Luckily, at about that time, I buddied up with a somewhat cantankerous, but very helpful, guy named Rod. He had become a local legend for his ability to consistently find gold.

As we got closer to a wide stream bed, we started hearing some gunfire. It was single shots at first, then semi and automatic weapons fire…

He got out his new salt gun and began searching for the source of the intruder. He soon isolated the sound to a point in the rafters above the stove.

It all occurred when Gus and I returned to a remote placer gold area where we had previously found really good gold. The problem was that it would take about an hour to walk through the desert to get to it.

Midway into my first tank of gas I was beginning to see color in my sluicebox. Needless to say, I was excited.

My brother Darryl and I had not had a prospecting adventure since January and we wanted to try out our new drywasher, so we decided to go for the weekend and check out some claims near Barstow…

We started off excited and enthusiastic as we began hiking up the river, daydreaming about finding big gold.