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5 January, Northern California
Adrenaline ping-ponged through Nolen Martin's stomach as the front wheels of the pickup dropped over the lip of the ridge, jolting to a stop. He studied the faint trail twisting down the steep hill toward the roar of the waterfall. "Digger, is there an easier way down?"

"This is the only trail that stays on National Forest property, and allows us to get our half-ton of gear down to the stream," the old man answered. "Too steep on the other side."

"Like this isn't?" Nolen released his harsh grip on the steering wheel, then took a drink from his canteen to wet his suddenly dry mouth. "You sure you received the owner's approval for us to work this site?"

Digger looked out the passenger window so Nolen could not observe his face as he answered. "She had no complaints. Why you holding up? Can't handle it?"

"Might as well try. I never did expect to see my thirty-sixth birthday..." Within seconds the bumps in the trail started jackhammering the pickup. Stomping the brakes did not slow their decent. "Hold on. This could be rough." Nolen wrestled the twisting steering wheel to keep the four-wheel drive pickup from flipping. It started a precarious slide sideways down the steep hillside. Fighting to avoid a boulder, he sideswiped a fir tree guarding the limit of the trail. Nolen fought for control, as he bounced the pickup across the rutted bottom of the ravine, and pointed the truck up the next sharp rise. He gunned the engine, spinning the knobby tires and kicking up a shower of dry grit.

Beside him, Digger's angular frame banged about, even though the old man tried to brace his body. "Your driving ain't helping my bones any. Even Pal doesn't like this bumping around." Barking at the two men, a black Labrador struggled to remain upright in the packed truck bed.

"You were the one who told me to follow this route. Actually, I think I'm doing a...Ouch!...damn good job."

The truck flew off the top of a dirt embankment, and dropped onto a patch of powdery sand, blasting a tan cloud into the air. Nolen skidded the pickup to a halt and leaned back. "Yes!" he yelled shoving his fists above his head. "Two times I swore we were going to roll." Nolen took off his favorite camouflaged cap, and brushed wet strands of blond hair from his forehead while watching Digger rub his elbow.

"Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine. And I told you before to quit babying me."

Nolen shrugged. "OK. Let's inspect your idea of a great gold site." He stepped out of the pickup, then flipped the seat forward to open a protective case containing his portable computer, binoculars, and several U.S. Geologic Survey maps.

After Nolen set up the computer and maps on the hood of the pickup, the two men and the dog moved to the edge of the gravel shoreline. There, they surveyed the cold, churning creek. To their right, green water tumbled fifty feet, crashing against slate-gray boulders. From the white water pool at the base of the waterfall, the stream shot through an expanding rock canal. On the far shore, the water raced along a moss-covered, granite wall. Where the wall ended, the creek deflected left and widened, allowing the current to lose two-thirds of its momentum, and swirl past a crescent-shaped sandbar.

"You were correct when we did our library research," Nolen said. "The 1849 prospectors used the ravine as a convenient place to toss debris from the upstream mines."

Digger scratched his white stubbled chin, and squinted at the man-made dam. "Perfect! This here creek's been washing through that ore from those old claims. Even if we don't find a hard rock vein, there's bound to be gold on the bottom."

"It's perfect all right -- perfectly dangerous. You want me to dive to the bottom, fight the surge from the waterfall, and poke around in the dark for gold. How long did it take you to dream up this idea?"

"Didn't take no time a'tall," the old man replied with a grin. "Just thought about how you crave adventure. Like when you were in the Army, jumping from airplanes with explosives strapped to your back, becoming a war hero by saving women and children. I knew you wouldn't back away from this site."

Nolen lifted his binoculars to inspect the rock formations near the pool, looking for fingers of white quartz in the gray stone. "Why is this spot so much better than the places we worked downstream yesterday, and the day before that?"

"Current. Here, it's fast and it's tricky. Sure to scare off most prospectors. Working other locations would be much safer."

Nolen returned to the pickup and entered site details into the computer program. He analyzed the updated map on the computer screen, with its red speckles of clustered numbers, highlighting the ten-square-mile box they had been searching during the last week. Through some of the clusters, a white vector line sliced, predicting the presence of a gold vein. "Well, the probability program agrees with you. There's a ten percent better chance here than downstream."

"Yup, this could be the place where we find the Eastern vein of the California mother lode." Smiling and flapping his elbows the old man danced a little jig in the sand.

"Digger, I've listened to your big dream for years. All you need now is a nice little strike. One with enough gold to pay off Hilda's many medical bills, and allow you to take her to a good cancer specialist."

"Don't you forget it's your foster mother's dream too. That's why she's stood by me for the last twenty-six years, while I've prospected both the east and west sides of the Sierra Nevada." As he spoke, Digger traced a line across the unfolded survey map with his shaky hand. "I've hunted gold from Mariposa in the south, to El Dorado in the north, one hundred twenty miles of the greatest gold country in the USA."

"Long on hope, but short on results," Nolen quipped.

"That's why over the last eight years, I've been working more to the east, in the Reno-Susanville area. It's here someplace."

"Not many promising surface signs," Nolen replied. "The original miners may have found all the lode gold in this area."

"It's been over a century and a half since then. Lots of weather and earthquakes have exposed rock that hasn't been worked yet. Remember what I told you when we studied the mining records and old maps? Any unfound veins are goin' to be in overlooked or hard to reach spots."

"Like the bottom of this pool?" Nolen placed his hand on Diggers arm to quiet him. "Hear that grinding noise? That's a boulder in the pool shifting after the sand has been washed away from its bottom. The recent rains have got this stream raging." A shiver of apprehension shook Nolen.

"Don't you worry about the pool. After we find that branch of the mother lode, there's goin' be another gold rush in California. It'll be bigger than in 1849 when thousands of people from the east coast suffered months of hardship to come here. Just imagine 100,000 people, in their cars and trucks, flooding into this area overnight."

Nolen closed the computer and returned it to the cab of the truck. "Digger, don't forget all the problems that erupt after finding a huge strike. Remember you taught me that more people steal gold from prospectors than find it on their own."

"Stop being a pessimist, boy. That high-tech program you wrote is goin' to help find my vein. I've finally got a technology, as good if not better, than the big exploration companies! Those crooks can all kiss my ass now."

Nolen surveyed the surrounding trees for small yellow markers, used to define the boundaries of a filed claim. "Are you sure no one has staked a claim to this area? Since the price of gold rose above $500 an ounce, it's again profitable to reprocess the tailings near these old mining sites."

"Son, I checked the county records, and no one has placed a claim on this here part of the creek. So let's quit jawin' and get this truck turned around and the pumps runnin'. We've got plenty of daylight left. Move your short body."

"I've told you a hundred times, 5'8" is the optimum size for an American male," Nolen joked. "I'm not a height inflicted scarecrow like you."

Nolen backed the truck to the edge of the embankment, where the men slid the new Keene Engineering dredging equipment and air system onto the tailgate. While Digger started the small engines, Nolen pulled on his wet suit and prepared his diving gear. He inspected every inch of the air hose that would supply him life-sustaining oxygen and its inner tube flotation support. Then, he laid out the dredging tube, underwater lamp, and safety rope, with attached communication cable. Nolen handed Digger a headphone, and slipped on his diving helmet to verify that the radio operated properly.

"I'll use the trailer hitch," Digger rasped into his headphone, "as the near-shore anchor point. With you hooked to the rope, I can let the current push you through the pool."

"Piece of cake," Nolen answered, hoping to hide his nervousness. "Make sure the air hose doesn't snag. I'm not so good at holding my breath." Nolen waded into the cold creek just below the waterfall, awkwardly flopping his swimming flippers, while balancing on the green moss-covered rocks. "Oh crap," Nolen swore when his foot slipped, and the current snatched him into the deep water with his safety rope and air hose snaking behind him. The stream's force rushed him toward a rock outcropping, jutting from the far granite wall.

"You're not looking real talented," Digger radioed, "floating along on your back like a flopping clown."

Nolen tried to twist his body around, to view the approaching wall, in an attempt to cushion his imminent impact. "Damn, this is going to hurt." He pancaked against the wall, slamming his left knee. Scraping one hand, he grabbed onto the jagged outcropping. He looped the safety rope around the rock for a hold against the slimy wall. It took three attempts to get braced, before he could hammer in a piton, and safety clip his rope to it.

Secured, he looked toward Digger. "This first dive, I'll try to stay about ten feet below the surface. Give me plenty of slack!"

Nolen dove, and the chilling liquid closed around him, strangling the sunlight. The torrent, ricocheting off the wall, buffeted his body, spinning and tossing him. Vertigo stalked his senses. He fought to keep his diving light aimed downstream, using its feeble shaft to warn him of any approaching danger.

Digger's distant voice echoed in Nolen's helmet. "Be careful, son. Don't get tangled in a sunken tree."

The granite wall flashed by, mere inches from Nolen's fragile mask. He tried to swim away. But his paddling had no effect. "I'm out of control, Digger." All his muscles tightened, and he closed his eyes, waiting to crash into the rock. Moments later, the roller-coaster waves spit Nolen into the slow shallows near the sandbar, allowing him to crawl back onto land.

After lashing on extra diving weights and instructing Digger to control the drift speed by slowly letting out the rope, Nolen repeated the procedure two more times. Finally, he limped back upstream.

"Does it look good, or are we wastin' our time?" Digger pressured.

"It's like a huge vertical sieve. Some quartz marbling and many cracks in the far wall. Plenty of heavy black sand packed into the cracks. It's worth a try. However, we're not going to expose any treasure without a struggle."

"Nothing's ever worn down my will to keep trying," Digger replied.

"Your willpower, but my body's paying the price. Even though I'm in the best shape of my life, this stream battered the heck out of me. Almost broke my knee on one hit. An hour or two down there, and I'll be a mass of bruises."

"You're young; you'll recover quickly. Now, how deep is it?"

"Near the waterfall, it's about forty feet. From there, it slopes upward to six feet by the sandbar. It will be easier to handle the dredge hose, if I strap the lamp to my chest and walk upstream into the deeper water, by moving along the base of the wall. That way, you can support me by pulling the safety rope tight."

"Any obstructions?"

"Several large boulders. My worry is one might roll against my leg and pin me to the bottom."

"Son, you don't have to do this if you think it's too dangerous. I'll understand. Sending us money, and then givin' up your commission in the Army is too much already. I know it caused trouble between you and your wife."

"Our separations were not caused by paying Hilda's doctor bills. Anyway, I can't change that situation right now. What I can do is help you and Hilda."

Digger placed his gnarled hand on Nolen's shoulder. "Thanks, son..."

"It's OK," Nolen interrupted. "Let's set up the sluice box and get started."

The two men pulled a one-foot wide, six-feet long, plastic sluice box off the top of the truck and laid it parallel to the stream. Digger shoved several flat rocks under its upstream edge. Sand and water, sucked from the stream by the dredge, would wash through the sluice. Any heavy gold particles carried in the slurry, would settle behind the molded cross-slats spaced along the bottom of the box.

Nolen returned to the shallows and began edging toward the far shore. After sinking to the bottom of the stream, he studied the base of each large boulder and the cuts in the bedrock, memorizing promising places to dredge. Holding himself on the streambed became more difficult as the creek narrowed. Three-quarters of the way to the waterfall, the current's blast prevented him from taking a step without being swept backward. The current pounded him with body blows. He stopped to sink another piton into the rock wall, and hooked his rope to it for additional support.

Nolen crouched and shoved the two-inch-wide dredging tube into the sand and gravel, letting it gulp the material like a vacuum cleaner. A wire mesh on the mouth of the hose kept large rocks from being sucked up and choking the water flow. With slow motion strokes, Nolen cleaned the cracks near the base of the wall. Then, using a metal rod, he loosened sand packed within the holes in the rock slab. Routinely, he straightened his bent spine, trying to escape from the relentless pressure of the current.

Nolen began his third sweep, braced against a chair-sized boulder. "Digger, I'm looking at a triangular crack in the wall. Appears eight-feet-long. It's fist-wide at the top, then gradually spreads to about twenty-four inches across at the bottom."

"Well, quit yapping and get to work. I ain't seen any gold flakes in the sluice box yet."

"Weren't you the one who taught me to be patient when hunting gold?"

"Tossing handfuls of worthless pebbles back into the stream isn't helping my Hilda any," Digger grumbled.

After clearing the narrow upper portions of the crack, Nolen squirmed onto his stomach. He swung the hose back and forth along the base of the wall, excavating a shoulder-wide cavity. He aimed his diving light into the opening. Thousands of brown and tan specks swirled in the lamp light.

"I think there's some glitter in the back of this hole I'm working. I can't tell for sure."

"Maybe Mother Nature is ready to give us something of value," Digger answered rubbing his hands together.

"Or, just luring me into a trap. Only way to find out is to squeeze farther into this damn crevice." Nolen crawled forward and shoved his arm and the hose deeper inside. Sand slithered into the tube, exposing the top of a nugget. He stretched his arm, but his fingers wiggled long inches from the gold.

Nolen backed out and wedged the dredge hose between the wall and a nearby boulder. "I couldn't reach it, Digger. I'll have to go in farther."

"Will your claustrophobia let you enter the hole?"

"Ever since I was a kid I've told you I'm not claustrophobic." Nolen tried ignoring the sudden clammy sweat inside his suit as he unhooked his diving lamp from his chest. With the lamp and hose in one hand, he reentered the narrow crack. Using his elbows and toes, he inched forward. When the hard rock bit into his sides, a shiver skidded up his spine. Too damn tight in here! his mind cried. Compulsively he scurried out, his breathing rate tripled.

"How are you doing, boy?"

"Leave me alone, damn it. I'm busy." Attempting to regain self-control, he closed his eyes, then counted to twenty as he slowly crawled into the hole. To prevent his mind from focusing only on the rock's firm body grasp, he concentrated on the yellow sparkle, deep within the crevice. He scolded himself for panicking. Quit being a wimp, he thought. You can't give up on your promise to help Hilda, just because it's getting tough.

"Yahoo!" Digger cheered. "Eight dime-sized nuggets just settled behind one baffle. You're into a good pocket."

Encouraged, Nolen squeezed farther into the hole.

"You don't need to point the gun at me," Digger rasped. "I won't do nothin' foolish."

Nolen stopped dredging. "Digger, who the hell are you talking to? Why is Pal barking?"

"Son, there's some young woman up here, pointing a shotgun at me. Don't shoot, lady! I've got to get my boy out of the pool!"

Through the earphones, Nolen heard two muffled explosions. Then, he felt the sudden drop in air pressure inside his face mask. Frightened, he gulped air before the ice cold water shocked his face. He drove his hands into the sand, scrambling to push out of the hole. But his weight belt jammed against the rock. The need for oxygen began clawing at his chest and throat. Nolen twisted and squirmed backward with all his might, ignoring the pain as the rock and belt ripped his skin. He popped out of the hole. Tearing off his weight belt, he struggled to keep his mouth shut to avoid sucking in suffocating water.

After what seemed an eternity, Nolen surfaced, coughing and spitting. He fell to his hands and knees on the sandbar, gulping air. Looking up, he spotted the ugly black eye of a pump shotgun being held by the woman. She stood, partially hidden, behind the trunk of a nearby fallen redwood. The tree and a bulky coat hid her features, except the mop of dark curls surrounding her face and the determination flashing from her eyes.

"What's...what's going on?" Nolen coughed.

"Get off my land!" she shouted, then aimed slightly behind him.

The roar of the shotgun told Nolen all he needed to know. He bolted for the pickup with his flippered feet scattering sand and water. Jumping onto the running board, he lunged for the side mirror as Digger stomped the gas pedal, fishtailing the pickup.

Through the sudden dust cloud, the woman fired again at Nolen ...

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