"We'll try close beneath it and give the thing a show." They did as he suggested, and his expression was sardonically incredulous when Weston proceeded along the foot of the hillside, where the ground was a little clearer, with a branch of the fork clutched in each hand.

The pointed stem was directed almost horizontally in front of him, and it remained in that position for about twenty minutes, when he lowered it with a gesture of discouragement.
"Felt nothing yet ?" Devine inquired eagerly.

"There's a kind of hollow yonder running into the thicket." Weston made no answer, but he turned in among the willows, and for half an hour or so they stumbled and floundered among the clinging branches.

Still there was no deflection of the fork, and when at length they stopped again, gasping and dripping with perspiration, Devine laughed rather grimly.
"Oh, give it a rest; I guess that's what it wants," he said.

"I'll hang on for another half-hour, and then I'm going prospecting on my own account.