“Went out prospecting and find every stone and foot of ground has been turned over. Newcomers are arriving constantly. Men are coming and going.”
-Hiram Pierce
RAW GOLD NUGGETS
In the bottom of your $1.50 goldpan, there’s a glimmer in the fading sunlight.
Gold.
Excitement flutters in your stomach. You discreetly slip the nugget in your vest pocket and head back toward town.
You take it to the goldsmith (one of eleven in Coloma) and get an estimate: $1.13.
The story from the other goldsmiths are the same, $1.08, $1.06, $1.15.
Back at the general store, $1.15 could buy you just three hard-boiled eggs.
Instead, you buy a tent and head south into the woods as the sun sets over your right shoulder. The smoke from a distant fire tickles your nostrils, and you follow it deep into the woods.
You find the smoldering embers at an abandoned camp. All that’s left by the dying fire is a map of California; someone who couldn’t find his fortune in Coloma must have left it by the day-old fire.
Three locations are circled: Calistoga, Los Angeles, and something called Hangtown, which is just upriver from where you camp for the night.