Slowly a stream of prospectors started coming up the hill and standing at the door. Dobbins had thrown a large strongbox up on the table, I had volunteered to record names and weights. As I waited for people to get organized, I studied the men crowding around the door. Dobbins was letting only one person in at a time so things were going slow. As a man of the twenty-first century, I was witnessing humanity on an entirely different level, what stood before me. If I were to take these men to 2014 and turn them loose into society it would be like trying to stick a square peg into a round hole. The American male had most definitely taken a wrong turn somewhere. I didn't have a sensitive nose, but BO was the choice of perfume around here. Long scraggly beards, thin haggard looking, fluent in what Tom Woolf called "army creole." I was looking at American society circa 1876, these men had come from all over the country just on someone's word there was gold here. Finally we got a system going weighing the men's little bags of gold. Some had more than others, Dobbins word was law, if the scale said you had only eight ounces of gold, that's what you had. After Mr. Dobbins called the weight I wrote it next to the man's name and had him sign next to his name. Surprisingly, every man knew how, I guess those one room school houses were doing their job. We also tagged each poke with the weight and name. After a little over an hour, everyone had their gold in. Mr. Dobbins asked if there were any stragglers but it appeared all were here. With as many men watching as could fit into the cabin Mr. Dobbins closed the chest after placing the sheet of paper inside. A sturdy lock then finished the job.
"You boys be mighty careful yahear, this is a mighty mean bunch, wouldn't want them lookin' for me. Jake and I made a little speech assuring the men the gold would arrive at O'Rourke's safely I could see a lot of doubt in their eyes.