Even as late as October, 1871, such a pocket was struck by a drunken Swede, near Georgetown, El Dorado county, and he took out $100,000 in a single day, then went on a drunk, which he has not yet got over.
Such pockets are good things to have. The company in the gulch, in which the owner of the mule was a large stockholder, after some bargaining bought the claim for $10,000, paid him down in gold-dust and orders on their partners, and hurried him off for Placerville early next morning, lest he should repent of his bargain and want to back out. Next morning they were at work there bright and early, while he was collecting his money in Placerville, and getting ready to "go down to the Bay"—i. e., to visit San Francisco. This was on Wednesday. The mule was delivered to his delighted owner, and, in consideration of his good services, enjoyed tall feed in a livery-stable for the rest of the week. His proprietor, anxious to inspect his new source-of untold wealth, hired a horse and started at once for the gulch.
On Saturday he returned with a face as long as the moral law, and black as a thunder-cloud. The party who purchased the victim's claim, himself included, had worked it for three days in succession, and given the whole side hill a thorough prospecting. They found two small nuggets, aggregating about $12, the first day; nothing on the second; and the third day was even as the one before it. They were sold, bilked, swindled, wronged, out and injured to the tune of $10,000. What became of the greenhorn they could
