The canoe of the
long-nosed man and his companions already had started, for its place
was vacant. Charley looked to see.

"It can't be that they've deserted!" exclaimed his father.

Mr. Grigsby shook his head, and smiled.

"Scarcely," he said. "See here. I've been waiting to show you."

He waded in knee deep, pulled up the pole and returned with it. A
fragment of grass rope still hung to it. The rope had been cut!

"I think," said Mr. Grigsby, slowly, "that we've our three friends to
thank for this. Looks to me as though somebody had cut the rope and
set the canoe adrift, with our men in it."

"Then they're liable to be miles down the river!"

"Just so, baggage and all."

"We can't wait," asserted Mr. Adams. "If we wait we run a good chance
of missing the steamer. I wouldn't have those three rascals get there
first for a thousand dollars. How about another canoe? Have you
tried?"

"Not yet. I didn't know whether you wanted to leave your baggage."

"Certainly I'll leave it. It can follow us. We can't stay here long
and run the risk of cholera. If you'll look for a canoe I'll see if we
can't hire passage with some of these other parties. Here, gentlemen!"
he called, to a canoe about to push out, and not heavily loaded. "Got
any room to spare?"

"Nary an inch, mister," responded one of the men. And away they went.

Again and again Mr. Adams tried, and he always got the same answer.
Truly, this was a very selfish crowd, every man thinking only of
himself and the goal ahead. They all acted as if the gold would be
gone, did they not reach California at the very earliest possible
minute. The fact is, Charley felt that way himself.

Back came Mr. Grigsby, hot and wet and disgusted.

"There's not a canoe to be had," he announced. "I can't get a boat for
love or money. Either they're all in use, or the people claim they
want to use them later. I expect we'll have to wait."

"Do you think our men will be back?"

"Yes, sir, as soon as they can. They seem honest. We can't walk,
anyway."

"No, I should say not," responded Mr. Adams, surveying the jungle
encompassing close. "We couldn't go a mile. The river's the only
trail. Very well, we'll wait a while. I've waited before, and so have
you."

"Many a time," and Mr. Grigsby composedly seated himself on the bank,
his rifle between his knees.

"I'll see about some breakfast, then," volunteered Mr. Adams. And away
he strode.

Char