J.H. retraced his steps along yet another tributary of the river. Once again the waters had led to nothing more then an obscure beginning in a trickle of springwater. He was certain that one of the many streamlets would lead him to the source of legend, but which one? The grant the company was working under wouldn't last forever - and if he produced no results they would probably try to replace him anyway. Still - in his honest opinon, there was no one better then he at reading geological clues to archeological discoveries.
Of course, if he did get canned, he could spend some time trying to track down another branch of the family from which his parents had so thoroughly disconnected themselves. The Coffins of Notquiteright Island, Maine were among the addresses listed in his mothers old diary as among those cousins who had refused wedding invitations.