"Prospect" does not refer to the fine view, as romantic readers may imagine; it means simply a camp of prospectors. And who are prospectors? They are a strange, romantic race of treasure hunters, scattered all over this mountain country. They are never at rest; hunting for lodes, developing and selling out; in a poor camp longing for a good one, in a good one longing for a better, and if perchance they "strike it rich," nine times out of ten they will sell quickly, spend the money lavishly, and are off to prospect again. The man who has prospected a few years rarely settles into a regular miner; though the latter often prospects to find his own claim before working it. Of course they are a peculiar race; of course they are superstitious about luck, have strange theories about lode-formation, prejudices about the "run of the rock," and undoubted faith in their own future, and all expect soon or late to discover and develop a "Comstock" or an "Emma."