I stand by my campfire, hands in pockets against the night chill. Looking out over Lake Powell. Ole Moon big and bright, haze starting to settle in as the heat gives up the fight and lets the cool evening in. Getting on in years now, but when I was young, before 'The Water" Me, Jim, Light Feather and Shorty used to run these canyons. Looking for gold or signs of. So many evenings by the camp fires, Days looking for that gold, so many laughs, good times and bad, all under the water now. I start thinking. Time Shorty broke his leg, it took us 3 days to get him to a doctor. Light Feather falling into that Cactus patch. We saw a lot more of him than we wanted to pulling out the needles. Ole Jim hanging of the cliff face 50- 60 ft in the air. We couldn't get to him and he fell. The moon shine shows where we buried him. I'm the only one left. Light Feather just disappeared one day. Shorty got the "tireds" and sat down in the shade of a rock. I'll be seeing you boys soon, and the water won't stop us from finding that gold.