A Prospector's First Page

The opening leaf of Alder Venn's prospect journal — pure hope, the day he set the first timber and read silver in the seam.

First timber set today, and my hands would not stop shaking to do it. The seam runs pale and true off the west face, the kind of shine that makes a poor man forget he is one. I have driven the adit a good six paces into the rise and the water stays low, praise be, no more than a boot's wet.

I have borrowed against next season and I do not care. Let them talk in town. When the Venn silver comes out of this stone the talk will change its tune quick enough, and I will buy the first round for every man who called me a fool. Deeper tomorrow. The vein wants following and I mean to follow it.