McComb wooed him back to journalism just as he was on the point of
returning to his old work on the Mississippi River, this time as a
Government pilot. During the earlier years in San Francisco, he was in
the habit of writing weekly letters to the 'Territorial Enterprise'
--personals, market-chat, and the like. But when he criticized the police
department of San Francisco in the most scathing terms, the officials
"found means for bringing charges that made the author's presence there
difficult and comfortless." So he welcomed the opportunity to join
Steve Gillis in a pilgrimage to the mountain home of Jim Gillis, his
brother--a "sort of Bohemian infirmary." Mark Twain revelled in the
delightful company of the original of Bret Harte's "Truthful James," and
he enjoyed the mining methods of Jackass Hill, like the true Bohemian
that he was. Soon after his arrival, Mark and Jim Gillis started out in
search of golden pockets. As De Quille says:

"They soon found and spent some days in working up the undisturbed
trail of an undiscovered deposit, They were on the 'golden
bee-line' and stuck to it faithfully, though it was necessary to carry
each sample of dirt a considerable distance to a small stream in
the bed of a canon in order to wash it. However, Mark hungered and
thirsted to find a big rich pocket, and he pitched in after the
manner of Joe Bowers of old--just like a thousand of brick.

"Each step made sure by the finding of golden grains, they at last
came upon the pocket whence these grains had trailed out down the
slope of the mountain. It was a cold, dreary drizzling day when
the 'home deposit' was found. The first sample of dirt carried to
the stream and washed out yielded only a few cents. Although the
right vein had been discovered, they had as yet found only the tail
end of the pocket.