PIONEER BOYS OF THE GOLD FIELDS

OR

THE NUGGET HUNTERS OF '49

BY CAPTAIN RALPH BONEHILL

AUTHOR OF "PIONEER BOYS OF THE GREAT NORTHWEST,"
"WITH BOONE ON THE FRONTIER,"
"FLAG OF FREEDOM SERIES," ETC.

CHATTERTON-PECK COMPANY
NEW YORK, N. Y.

Copyright, 1906 BY
STITT PUBLISHING COMPANY

BOOKS BY CAPTAIN RALPH BONEHILL

THE FRONTIER SERIES

Price, per Volume, $1.00

WITH BOONE ON THE FRONTIER;
Or, The Pioneer Boys of Ohio.

PIONEER BOYS OF THE GREAT NORTHWEST;
Or, With Lewis and Clark Across the Rockies.

PIONEER BOYS OF THE GOLD FIELDS;
Or, The Nugget Hunters of '49.

FLAG OF FREEDOM SERIES

Price, per Volume, 60 cents

WHEN SANTIAGO FELL;
Or, The War Adventures of Two Chums.

A SAILOR BOY WITH DEWEY;
Or, Afloat in the Philippines.

OFF FOR HAWAII;
Or, The Secret of a Great Volcano.

THE YOUNG BANDMASTER;
Or, Concert Stage and Battlefield.

WITH CUSTER IN THE BLACK HILLS;
Or, A Young Scout Among the Indians.

BOYS OF THE FORT;
Or, A Young Captain's Pluck.

PREFACE

"Pioneer Boys of the Gold Fields" relates the adventures of three sturdy youths who go west to seek their fortune during the great rush to California in 1849.

At the start the boys are unknown to each other—one coming from the city, another from the country, while a third is just home from a long whaling voyage. But the magic word, "Gold!" is on every lip, and in company with thousands of others, they make the long and perilous journey across the plains and the mountains, to the Land of Promise. On the way they have several encounters with wild beasts and with Indians,—scenes taken from actual life. When the gold diggings are reached they find that a great deal of hard labor lies before them, but they do not shirk, and their success is well deserved. They find the gold fields overrun with bad men, and at the height of their prosperity they are robbed of their treasure. What happens after that, the pages which follow relate in detail.

In writing this story the author has had but one purpose in view—to give his readers a faithful picture of the exciting times of '49, when rich and poor, high and low, laborers and bankers, journeyed by land or by water to California in search of gold. The excitement was intense, equaled only by that when gold was first discovered in the Klondyke region. In those days there were no railroads across the western portion of our country, and the journey had to be made on foot or on horseback and took months where it now takes but days. Those who did not go by land sailed either to the Isthmus of Panama, crossed, and went up the coast of California by ship, or else took the still longer voyage around Cape Horn. Surely the hearts of these Argonauts were of the stoutest, and their deeds deserved to be chronicled!

Captain Ralph Bonehill.

August 15, 1906.

CONTENTS

PIONEER BOYS OF THE GOLD FIELDS

CHAPTER I

MARK AND HIS DIFFICULTIES

"I wonder if this report can be true, Carl?"

"What report, Mark?"

"This report in the newspapers that great nuggets of gold are to be found in California," replied Mark Radley. He pointed to the sheet he had been perusing. "Here is an account of a miner picking up ten thousand dollars' worth of nuggets in two days, and another account of a gold hunter washing out six thousand dollars' worth of dust in a week. I declare it's enough to make a fellow's mouth water just to think about it!"

"Beats working in a musty law office all to bits, eh?" was Carl Felmore's remark, and he uttered a short laugh. "I'll wager the reports are false, Mark," he added. "Why, if there was so much gold in California the Spaniards out there would have gotten it long before Uncle Sam took possession of the country."

"Here are names and dates," answered Mark, with a serious shake of his head. "If the reports are false, I don't see how they got those."

"Even if the reports are true, I don't think I'd care to go away out to California for the gold," resumed Carl, who was a bit of a coward. "Why, it's three thousand miles from Philadelphia, and you'd have to either go out on horseback most of the way, or take a steamer or a sailboat to the Isthmus of Panama and then up the gold coast, or else go clear around Cape Horn! You don't catch me making such a trip as that!"

"It would just suit me," cried Mark, enthusiastically. "I'd take a trip to the moon if I could get there. I'd like the sport——"

"Never mind taking a trip to the moon, young man!" broke in a harsh voice at Mark's back. "Just get to work and leave California alone. Have you finished that copying I gave you yesterday?"

"Not yet, Mr. Powers," answered Mark. "But I'll have it done in half an hour."

"Good-by, Mark," came from Carl Felmore, and he slipped out of the office without another word.

"I don't want that Felmore boy hanging around here," cried Jadell Powers, wrathfully. "After this he must keep away."

"He brought over some legal papers for Cross & Barwick," answered Mark, quietly. He saw that his step-father was not in an agreeable frame of mind.

"Oh! Well, he needn't hang around, even so," grumbled Jadell Powers, but in a more subdued tone of voice. "Hurry up with those papers. I must get to court by ten o'clock and it's now half-past nine."

"I'll hurry all I can," answered Mark.

"You were out late last night," went on the lawyer, after a moment of silence.

"Only until ten o'clock. I went to a concert given by the college boys."

"Humph! A fine way to waste your money."

"It was my own money," answered Mark, with spirit.

"Nevertheless, you had no need to throw it away, young man. But don't talk now—get through with those papers," and the lawyer turned away, and departed for a nearby court.

Mark Radley was a lad of sixteen, tall, broad-shouldered, and rather good-looking, with brown eyes and curly brown hair. He was an orphan, his father having died when he was but five years old and his mother departing this life when the boy was fourteen. Mark had had two sisters, but both had died when quite young.

When Mark was ten years of age, Mrs. Radley had met and married Jadell Powers, a man ten years her senior, and known in Philadelphia as a fairly successful lawyer. Powers was a widower, having one son, who had run away from home when out of grammar school. Those who had dealings with him knew him to be very irritable and a good deal of a miser, but Mrs. Radley knew nothing of his shortcomings until they were married several months. Then her eyes were opened, and for four years—up to the day of her death—she suffered much, but always in silence.

Almost from the start, Mark could not get along with his step-father, and boy and man had more than one open quarrel and on three different occasions the youth was on the point of running away, but the presence of his mother deterred him.

When Mrs. Radley died Mark felt he was free, but much to his consternation he was given to understand that his mother had made no will and that his step-father had legal rights in the property which could not be ignored. By slick management Jadell Powers had himself made Mark's guardian.

"You must toe the mark after this, young man," said the lawyer, after matters had been adjusted. Then he took Mark out of high school and made the boy enter his law office, although Mark did not take to a legal calling in the slightest degree.

"I wish I had hold of my money, I'd travel a bit before settling down," Mark told his friend Carl. But Mark got hold of very little cash, and so had to stick at the office grind, week in and week out, winter and summer. Once in a great while he slipped away—to play ball or go fishing—but this always brought on a good scolding from his step-father.

"Boys nowadays want to play, they don't want to work," grumbled Jadell Powers. And then he would give Mark copying and other work to do that would keep the lad busy until nine or ten o'clock at night.

Two days before the opening of this story the boy and his step-father had had some hot words concerning several legal documents which Mark had copied. Mr. Powers had given directions to have them transcribed in a certain way. Mark had followed directions, and then the lawyer said that was not the way at all. In his rage Jadell Powers had threatened to thrash Mark and had taken up a book to throw at the boy's head. But Mark had stood his ground.

"You hit me and I'll hit you!" he cried, pale with resentment, and the look in Mark's eye made the lawyer drop the volume on his desk. There the quarrel rested, but it was not settled by any means.

Mark was so busy copying the papers which had been given to him that he had no time to think of his troubles, but once his step-father was gone a look of disgust crossed the boy's face.

"I'm just about as sick of this as a fellow can be!" he murmured, as he walked across the office, to gaze out of the window to the street below. "It's getting worse and worse every day! I really can't see how I'm going to stand it much longer! I wish I was a thousand miles from here!"

The office was a small affair, fronting on one of the main streets of Philadelphia. Next to it was another apartment, in which were located Mr. Powers' private desk and his safe—the latter an old-fashioned affair and scarcely fireproof.

As Mark gazed out of the window he saw a commotion in the street—coming from a restaurant on the corner. Then the cry of fire was raised, and soon a crowd gathered, while a dozen people ran from the burning building.

"A fire! I must see it!" cried the lad. He was dying for a little excitement, and rushed out of the office, slamming the door after him. He hurried downstairs and outside, and soon joined the crowd in the street.

In those days—it was but the year 1848—fire engines were not what they are to-day, and it took some time for them to reach the locality of the conflagration. But fortunately, the fire did not amount to much, and in half an hour it was out and the crowd dispersed as rapidly as it had gathered.

"Phew! I'll have to get back to the office—somebody may come in on business!" Mark told himself, and he ran back to the building with all speed. As he hurried up the stairs, he met a man coming down—a tall, slim individual, with a clean-shaven face.

"Excuse me, were you looking for Mr. Powers?" asked the boy. He had never seen the man before.

"No," was the quick answer. "I got into the wrong building. I was looking for No. 324," and without saying more the stranger descended quickly to the lower hall and disappeared into the street.

"He is certainly in a hurry," thought Mark, and soon reached the door to the office—to find it standing wide open. "Humph! I thought I shut this," he added, as he entered.

Everything seemed to be as he had left it, and having taken a look around, he began some more copying, keeping this up until half-past twelve, when his step-father returned and allowed him to go to dinner.

"I want you to copy these papers this afternoon, Mark," said Jadell Powers, when the boy returned. "Mind, I want the work done nicely, and don't leave it until it is all finished."

Mark took the papers and looked them over. There were many pages of fine writing.

"I can't get these done to-day!" he cried.

"Yes, you can!"

"They'll take until to-morrow noon, sir. There are eighteen pages in this, and six pages of that——"

"I want no back talk, young man!" stormed Jadell Powers. "You'll have those done by to-night. If not, I'll have an account to settle with you!" And he shook his fist at the boy.

Mark's temper was none of the best and his face reddened. Then, seized by a mood he could not control, he dashed the legal documents to the floor.

"I won't copy your old papers!" he cried. "You can copy them yourself!"

"What's that?" screamed Jadell Powers, and of a sudden he made a leap for Mark. But the youth was too quick for him. Catching up his cap, he ran for the door, banging the barrier in his step-father's face. Then he leaped down the stairs, three steps at a time, and reaching the street, hurried up the block and around a corner as fast as his legs could carry him.

CHAPTER II

NEWS FROM CALIFORNIA

"Well, I wonder what I am to do next?"

It was Mark who asked himself that question. He was sitting in one of the public parks of the city. He had walked rapidly for the best part of an hour and was almost exhausted.

"I'll bet Mr. Powers is as mad as sixteen hornets," he mused. "He will want to skin me alive—if he catches me. But he isn't going to catch me just yet. I'd rather run away than fall into his clutches! How he did glare at me when I threw down those documents! I rather guess I'd best not go back."

Mark sat still for a few minutes and then heaved a deep sigh. Never had he felt so utterly alone as now. He had no relatives to turn to in his troubles.

"What's the matter; out of a job?" asked a man sitting by. He had heard Mark sigh.

"Not exactly," answered the boy, and to avoid being questioned further, he arose and moved away.

He walked through the park and a little later found himself standing in front of a newspaper office.

"All about the news from Californy!" cried a newsboy with a bundle of papers. "Millions of dollars bein' picked up! People going by the thousands to the gold fields!"

"Give me a paper!" cried Mark, without stopping to think twice. He handed out the price and then began to look at the news from the Far West. It was most alluring, and many stopped on the streets to read all the details.

"Wisht I could go to Californy!" said the newsboy to Mark. "Pickin' up gold is better'n sellin' papers, ain't it?"

"I should say so!" answered Mark, and moved on slowly. "Maybe I'll go!" he continued.

"Wish yer luck," returned the newsboy, gayly, and darted off to dispose of the rest of his papers.

The news was certainly fascinating, and it is small wonder that it caused such wild excitement. Rich and poor alike read the wonderful accounts, and day after day men streamed westward overland, or departed by vessel for Panama, or for the longer trip around Cape Horn.

"What a trip it would be!" murmured Mark, after the reading of the account was finished. "I declare, I do feel like going. And what's to hinder me?"

He straightened up and a strange look filled his face. Mark was naturally impulsive, but when he made up his mind to do a thing he usually did it.

"Mr. Powers doesn't care for me, and there is nothing to hold me back," he told himself. "Yes, I might as well go! The first people on the ground are sure to get the richest nuggets! Who knows but what I may make my fortune! Ho, for the West!"

A smile of enthusiasm broke out on his face and he quickened his pace. But then he grew thoughtful. He had only seven dollars that he could call his own and six dollars of the amount was at his home, two miles away.

"I'd better get my money and some clothes before Mr. Powers goes home," he reasoned. "If he catches me, there'll be too much music to suit me!"

In those days there were no trolley cars, only dingy stages running to where Mark wished to go. He hopped aboard one of these, paid his fare, and was soon set down at the right corner.

"Why, you are back early, Master Mark," said the housekeeper, who saw him enter.

"Yes, Mrs. Nason. I'm going on a journey. Mr. Powers hasn't got back yet, has he?"

"No, I don't expect him before his regular time, half-past six."

The housekeeper wanted to question him further, but he ran up to his room. He had a valise which had belonged to his mother, and into this he placed such clothing as he wished to take along. Then he brought out his money, a watch that had been his father's, and some jewelry that had belonged to Mrs. Radley.

"I may have to sell some of those things before I reach the Land of Gold," he thought. "But I'll not dispose of them until I actually have to."

When he went below, he found the housekeeper waiting for him.

"So you are going on a journey," she said. "May I ask where to, Master Mark?"

"I'm sorry, but I cannot tell you," he answered, briefly. "To tell the truth, Mrs. Nason, I don't want my step-father to know."

"Oh!" The housekeeper grew doubly interested. "Do you mean to say you are going to run away?"

"I don't think I'll run very much."

"You must have had another quarrel."

"We are quarreling all the time. I can't stand his ways, Mrs. Nason."

"I don't blame you, Master Mark. He is a terrible hard man to get along with. Maybe he means well, but, but——"

"If he does, he doesn't show it. I must be off, for I don't want to meet him. Good-by." He held out his hand.

"Good-by, and good-luck, no matter where you go! But you must come back some day! The property is yours, remember that!"

"Oh, I'll remember, and I'll come back," answered Mark, and gave her a smile.

"And one thing more, Master Mark," the housekeeper continued, in a lower tone. "If you need money, I have some saved, and——"

"Thank you, Mrs. Nason, you are very kind. But I don't want any but my own."

"If you do, write, and I'll send you some," she continued.

"Thank you very much."

"And if you get into trouble, let me know, and I'll do what I can for you."

"Perhaps I'll send you a letter some day. But you mustn't show it to Mr. Powers."

"I'll do as you wish, Master Mark."

Mark put on his cap and turned towards the front door. Soon he was outside and hurrying towards the front gate. As he opened it he found himself face to face with his step-father.

"Ha! I thought you might be here!" roared Jadell Powers. "I've caught you nicely!" He grabbed the youth by the arm. "What are you doing with that bag?"

"It's my bag, and I am going away!" retorted Mark. "Let go of me!"

"Let go? Not much, young man! I have caught you red-handed!"

"I don't know what you mean by red-handed," said Mark, doggedly. "I am going away and that is all there is to it. You shan't stop me!"

"If you talk like that, do you know what I'll do?" stormed Jadell Powers. "I'll hand you over to the police!"

"You have no right to do that."

"Yes, I have!"

"You have not. I have done no wrong. You want to make a regular slave of me, but I won't stand it. I'm going to strike out for myself."

"Tut! tut, a fine way for a boy of your age to speak! You ought to be in a—a reformatory this minute! This is what I get for trying to make a man of you!"

"I don't want to be a lawyer, and I'm not going to copy legal documents all day long," answered Mark, as determinedly as ever.

"You'll be what I want you to be!"

"It takes two to make a bargain, Mr. Powers. Ever since my mother died you have tried to rule over me with a rod of iron. But I won't stand it. I'm going away and I'll take care of myself, until I am of age. Then I'll come back and claim what belongs to me."

"Humph!" The lawyer paused for a second. "Where do you calculate to go?" he questioned, curiously.

"That is my business."

"Maybe you want to take that trip to the moon, or to California, eh?"

"I've heard there are good chances for a boy in New York and Boston," said Mark, to throw his step-father off the scent.

"Tut! tut! There are just as good chances right here in Philadelphia. Remember the old saying, 'A rolling stone gathers no moss.'"

"I don't want to gather moss; I want to do as the rolling stone does, get polished," answered Mark, grimly.

"If you stay in Philadelphia and behave yourself, I'll try my best to make a man of you."

"Mr. Powers, we can't get along together—you know that as well as I do. Ever since mother died we have quarreled. I can't stand it any longer,—and so I am going away."

"Humph!"

"You can sneer if you wish—but I am going away,—and I'll do the best I can for myself."

"Going away to have a good time, I suppose. As soon as your money is gone you'll be back on my hands."

"No, I won't be back."

"Well, you shan't go away with my money," and now the lawyer tightened his grip on his step-son's arm.

"Your money?" came from Mark. "What little I have is my own."

"Really?" And Jadell Powers' face took on a sour look.

"Yes, really. I've only got seven dollars, but every penny of that I saved myself—out of the little spending money you allow me, and out of what I got when I sold that old sled and pair of skates I had."

"Mark, you're a cute rascal, but your story won't hold water. You've got three hundred dollars that belongs to me!"

"Three hundred dollars?" gasped the youth, in amazement.

"Yes, three hundred dollars—which you took from my safe this very morning!" cried Jadell Powers. "I want you to hand the money over instantly. If you don't, I'll call an officer of the law and have you locked up!"

CHAPTER III

MARK RUNS AWAY

For the moment after his step-father had announced that he had lost three hundred dollars Mark was so dumfounded that he could not speak.

"I—you—Did you lose three hundred dollars?" he gasped, at last.

"Yes, I did. And you've got the money," returned Jadell Powers.

"Mr. Powers, I haven't a cent of that money. In fact, I didn't know you had three hundred dollars in the safe."

"I know better. I put the money in there yesterday, and you were there when I did it."

"Perhaps I was there, but I didn't see you handle any money. Are you sure it was stolen?"

"Of course I am."

"Didn't you lock the safe door?"

"Yes, but the safe is old and anybody could get it open by trying. Come, Mark, confess and give back the money. If you don't, you know what I said."

The youth did not listen to the words. He was thinking of the stranger he had met on the stairs, when returning from the fire. Could that individual be the thief?

"Mark, do you hear me?" stormed Jadell Powers. "Tell me where that money is this instant!"

"I don't know where it is. But I think I know who took it."

"Was there anybody else in the office?"

"I think so, although I am not sure. Did you hear about the fire in Koster's bakery?"

"Yes."

"Well, when the fire broke out I ran downstairs to see what was the matter. I stayed down in the street a while. When I started to come back to the office I met a strange man coming down the stairs. I asked him if he wanted to see you. He said no, and said he had gotten into the wrong building. He got out into the street in a terrible hurry."

"Tut, tut, young man! Do you expect me to believe such a cock-and-bull story as that? Not I! Just you hand over that money, or I'll call a policeman without delay."

Mark gazed at his step-father in horror. Evidently the close-fisted lawyer meant just what he said, and the youth had a dim mental vision of being dragged to prison and of being convicted of an awful crime.

"I haven't got the money, and I don't intend to be locked up!" he burst out, and with a dexterous twist he freed himself from his step-father's grasp and bounded down the street.

"Stop! Stop!" yelled Jadell Powers. "Stop, I say! Somebody stop him! He's a thief!"

He ran after the boy, but Mark was a swift runner and soon put a goodly distance between himself and his pursuer. Fortunately, no other people were close at hand, and by the time some men and boys joined in the chase, Mark was three squares away and still running like a frightened deer.

"He shan't catch me!" he muttered to himself, as he kept up his running.

He was somewhat hampered by his valise, which was heavy, and on reaching a street where ran a line of stages, he jumped aboard a passing vehicle. As the driver was behind time, he whipped up his horses, and before long Mark was a good mile from home. Nobody seemed to be in pursuit and this caused him to breathe a sigh of relief.

Yet the youth felt strangely depressed. Contrary to his expectations, he was leaving home under a heavy cloud.

"Unless the real thief is caught, Mr. Powers will always think I took that money," he reasoned, dismally. "Perhaps I am to blame, too, for I left the office during business hours and forgot to lock the door."

At last Mark found himself in the shipping district of the city. It was growing dark, and the majority of the business people had taken themselves to their homes. As the stage came to a corner, he alighted and stared around him, not knowing where to go next.

"I guess I had better get out of town," he told himself. "Mr. Powers will be after me hot-footed to-night and in the morning. Three hundred dollars looks like a fortune to him. And it is a big sum of money. Wish I had it for my own! I'd start West right away, and ride all the way, too!"

An hour later found Mark on the way out of town. Strange as it may seem, he fell in with a man who was driving ten horses which had just come in on a boat. The man wanted to know the way to the village of Chesbrook.

"I know the way," said the boy, quickly. "Let me ride one of the horses and I'll show you."

"If you want to go to Chesbrook, hop up," answered the man, and in a moment Mark was in the saddle for the twenty-mile journey.

"I haven't got much money and I want to save all I can," explained Mark.

"Horseback traveling is good enough for me," answered the man. "I hate a stage coach, an' them railroad trains is too plaguety risky. I rode in one once an' I felt sure we was goin' to be killed ev'ry minit!"

"Then you don't belong in the East?"

"No, I belong out to Hankertown, in the western part o' the State."

"Are you going that far?"

"Yes, after a day's stop at Chesbrook."

"Going to take the horses along?"

"Four of 'em. The others are for a man at Chesbrook."

"Then maybe you won't mind if I ride to Hankertown with you," went on Mark, after pausing in thought.

"Oh, are you goin' West?"

"Yes—if I can get there."

"Say, you ain't goin' to try for Californy?" cried the man, with added interest.

"Perhaps—I haven't made up my mind exactly. Maybe I'll get tired of the trip after I've been on the road a while."

"I'd like to take the trip to Californy myself. But I don't know as I can git away. I've been away from hum a good spell already."

It was well on towards midnight when Chesbrook was reached. It was only a small village, with a small square building that went by the name of hotel. Here the man put up for the night, and Mark did the same, the boy paying "four shillings"—fifty cents—for his bed and breakfast in the morning.

By ten o'clock the man with the horses had transacted his business at the village and he and Mark began their journey further westward. It was a clear day and a night's rest had put the boy in fine condition physically, although he was still worried, fearing that his step-father might be on his track.

Towards the middle of the afternoon Mark and Jed Dickson—such was the man's name—came to a fork in the road.

"Which is the right road?" questioned the boy, as he drew rein.

"I allow as how the road to the right is right," answered Jed Dickson.

They turned in that direction, but scarcely had they covered half a mile when they saw that the road was very poor and that there had been no traveling upon it for several days.

"This looks like a side road to me," observed Mark.

"Reckon you're correct," answered the man. He scratched his head. "Ain't nothin' to do but to go back."

"Wait, I hear talking!" went on Mark. "Somebody must be coming. Perhaps we can find out which way to go."

They waited and heard two persons coming along, each on horseback. One was a burly fellow of fifty, with a heavy beard, and the other a youth of Mark's age, dressed in a sailor suit.

"Say, messmate, it looks to me like we were on the wrong tack," came from the sailor boy, as he drew rein just around a bend from where Mark and Jed Dickson were waiting.

"Oh, we're all right," came from the burly man. "By the way, how much money did you say you had with you?" he continued.

"One hundred and forty dollars—and I don't want to lose it, either."

"Let me carry it for you, lad."

"No, I'll carry it myself. And I reckon I'll go back," went on the sailor boy.

"You'll hand that money over to me," cried the burly man.

"What, would you rob me?" gasped the youth.

"I want that money, and I am bound to have it," came coolly from the burly individual. "We are alone out here, so it won't help you to make a fuss about it."

"You brought me here to rob me!" cried the sailor boy. "I thought something was wrong. Well, you ain't going to rob me just yet. Get up there!" The last words to his horse.

"Stop!" roared the burly man, and urging his own steed forward he caught the other horse. "That money, I say, or I'll——"

"Hi! leave him alone!" cried Mark, riding forward. "Leave him alone, you villain!"

"We don't allow no highway robbery in these parts," sang out Jed Dickson.

Both came up alongside of the burly fellow, who drew back in commingled alarm and disgust.

"Hullo—friends!" sang out the sailor boy, joyfully. "Here's luck for me sure!"

"And no luck for me!" growled the burly man, and urging his steed around, he disappeared back of some bushes and was gone.

"Do you know that man?" asked Mark.

"Never clapped eyes on him until this morning," answered the other boy. "He said he would show me the way to Hopeville, but I guess he wanted to get me in some lonely spot and then rob me. You two came up in the nick of time,—and I'm mighty glad of it!" He gave Mark and Jed Dickson a grateful look.

"Where did you come from?" asked Dickson.

"From Philadelphia. You see, I'm just ashore from a whaling voyage," was the answer. "I got tired of the sea and thought I'd try it on land for a spell. I've got an old aunt living at Hopeville and I allowed I'd pay her a visit. My name is Bob Billings. Who are you?"

"I am Mark Radley."

"And I am Jed Dickson. Don't you want to go after that rascal?"

"I don't reckon we can catch him, for he'll do his best to keep out of sight," answered Bob Billings. "I was a fool to let him know what money I was carrying with me. I got paid off four days ago, and I thought if my aunt needed anything I'd let her have some of the cash. She's the only relative I've got in the world."

CHAPTER IV

MARK MAKES A FRIEND

Mark soon discovered that Bob Billings was a light-hearted chap who took matters as they came, without making much fuss about things.

"I should have been mad if that man had robbed me," said the sailor boy. "But as he didn't get my money I'm going to drop the matter. But if I ever meet him again I'll give him a black eye, or else my name isn't Bob!"

"Hopeville is on the road we want to take," said Jed Dickson. "An' such bein' the case, we may as well travel together for a spell;" and so it was agreed.

As they journeyed along Bob Billings told much about himself. His parents had died while he was young, and he had been turned over to the care of an old sea captain who had taken him on several trips to Cuba and Porto Rico. Then the captain had died and Bob had shipped for the whaling voyage just mentioned. But whaling had not suited him and he said he was now going to stay ashore for some time and perhaps for good.

"Sailoring isn't what it is cracked up to be," said he. "The grub is poor and the hands are sometimes treated like dogs. I'll have to get the fever pretty bad before I go to sea again."

"I never had any desire to go to sea," said Mark. "I'd rather make my fortune on land."

"Where are you bound?"

"I've got a notion to strike out for California. But it's a long journey."

"You're right there. Heard about the gold, I suppose?"

"Yes."

"I heard about that myself. I met one man in Philadelphia who was crazy on the subject. He sold almost the shirt off his back to get money enough to buy a ticket on a steamer for Panama."

"I'd rather go overland—I think it would be more fun."

"You'll have the Rocky Mountains to climb," put in Jed Dickson. "Won't be no fun in that—especially if you're out there in the winter time!"

"Oh, I don't mind the cold so much."

"I've been thinking of going to California myself," resumed Bob Billings. "But I want to see how old Aunt Betsey is first. Maybe she will want me to stay with her for a spell. She didn't use to care for me, but maybe she is changed now."

Hopeville was reached about supper time, and Mark and Jed Dickson put up at the local tavern, while Bob Billings went off to find his aunt, whom he had not seen in three years.

"He's a nice sort," said Mark. "If I went to California I'd like to have him along."

An hour passed and they were just finishing their supper when the sailor boy reappeared. His face wore a sober look.

"I've had bad news," said he, dropping into a chair. "My aunt died nearly a year ago. They sent me a letter about it, but it never reached me."

"That's hard luck," said Mark, sympathetically.

"Did she leave any money?" questioned the matter-of-fact Dickson.

"Left about a hundred dollars, so they tell me, and that was used to pay her funeral expenses. They sold off her things, and a lawyer is keeping about another hundred in trust for me. But I'd rather Aunt Betsey was alive. Now I'm utterly alone in the world."

Bob Billings put up at the hotel, going into a room with Mark. Before retiring the two became quite confidential.

"So you're running away," said Bob, on hearing Mark's story. "Well, I don't blame you, if your step-father is that sort. I'd cut sticks myself. I hope you make your pile, if you ever reach California."

"Don't you want to go, now you are all alone?"

"Yes, I do, and there's my hand on it!"

The boys shook hands warmly—and from that moment they were chums. They talked over many things, and Mark confessed that he had but five dollars and a quarter left of the amount with which he had started.

"Never mind, I've got quite a pile," answered Bob.

"But I don't want to sponge on you, Bob."

"I'll make you a loan of twenty-five dollars," replied the sailor boy, producing the money. "I haven't forgotten how you saved me from being robbed. If it hadn't been for you and Dickson I'd be penniless."

"Well, I'll take the money as a loan—when what I have on hand is gone," answered Mark.

It was decided that Mark should remain at Hopeville with Bob for a few days, and in the morning the two boys bid good-by to Jed Dickson. As a keepsake, and for his kindness in assisting Bob, the sailor boy presented Dickson with a fancy watch charm, for which the man was very thankful.

"Hope we meet again some day," said Dickson to both boys. "Maybe in the gold diggings, eh?"

"Perhaps," answered Mark. As yet, California seemed a long way off.

During the day Bob saw the lawyer who had the money left by the sailor boy's aunt. There was a little trouble about getting the lawyer to turn the money over to Bob—he not being of age—but finally the matter was straightened out and Bob found himself exactly ninety-five dollars richer than before.

"Now, take my advice and be careful of your cash," said the lawyer.

"I'm going to California," answered Bob. "And I'm going to take my friend here with me."

"Indeed! It's a long trip for boys!"

"I guess we'll get through somehow," said Bob, lightly.

When the two boys were by themselves, Bob insisted that Mark should carry exactly half the money.

"If we are going to be partners, you've got to shoulder half the responsibility," said the sailor boy.

"Partners it is!" cried Mark. "Say, Bob, you're the right sort, and I like you tremendously!"

"And I like you. Shake! We're partners from this minute forward. If we reach California and get any gold——"

"It's share and share alike," finished Mark. "I hope we get a ton or two of nuggets!"

"A ton! You don't want much! Why didn't you say ten tons while you were about it? Now I'd like to find a nugget about as big as—as——"

"Your head," finished Mark.

"Well, that would be plenty large enough, I'm certain."

On the next day the journey westward was resumed. They went partly by stage and then struck a coal road and got a "lift" on one of the cars. After that came a journey on one of the streams flowing into the Ohio. Then they got aboard a flatboat bound for the Mississippi.

"This is something like," said Bob, as they watched the boat glide along. The flatboat was of fair size and carried twenty or thirty passengers. The deckhands were negroes and they sang as they worked. The furnace on the craft burnt wood, and they often had to make a landing at a yard along the river bank, to get fresh fuel aboard.

They were making one of these landings when the two boys saw a lively discussion going on between two men. One was trying to sell a good-sized scow to the other for ten dollars. The other man, however, wanted to give only five dollars.

"Say, we might take that scow!" cried Mark. "We could easily float down to the Mississippi in it and then sell it at Cairo, or some other point. We could take provisions along, and such traveling would be very cheap."

"Let's do it!" cried Bob. The idea of navigating a craft of their own appealed to him, in spite of the fact that he wanted no more of life on the ocean.

They went ashore, and after a few minutes' talk bought the scow for eight dollars. Then, from a nearby farmer, they procured some provisions, and by nightfall were on their way westward once more.

"Let's call the scow Eldorado," cried Mark. "And you are now Captain Bob."

"What does Eldorado mean?" questioned Bob. "I hear them talking of California as an Eldorado."

"It means Golden—the Land of Gold," answered Mark.

"Well, this scow isn't golden—it's mud-color, Mark."