Wherever the land they traveled through seemed to promise gold, they would stop and prospect.

Many a pan of likely looking dirt they washed beside some stream where the burros stopped to drink and feed a little on the grassy banks.
So, late in June, they reached Reno; outfitted and went on again, traveling to the north, to the green country for which they yearned, though now they were fairly in it and would have stopped if any tempting ledge or bar had come in their way.

They prospected every gulch that showed any mineral signs at all.

It was a carefree kind of life, with just enough of variety to hold Bud's interest to the adventuring.

The nomad in him responded easily to this leisurely pilgrimage.