were confined a quantity of cattle, sheep and hogs, for fresh
meat. Every day or so several were slaughtered. Over the upper deck
were stretched shade awnings. Officers and crew were smart and spick
and span.

But, like the _Georgia_, the _California_ was too crowded for real
comfort. From the steerage, below, to the first cabin or upper deck,
the passengers had occupied every kind of quarters; the sea was smooth,
so that few were seasick, but the sun beat down from directly overhead,
out of a sky almost cloudless, and even under the awnings the heat and
moisture were well-nigh unendurable. The gold seekers who clung to
their heavy boots and trousers and flannel shorts fairly panted.

However, it was a three weeks' voyage, now, and there was no retreat.
Anyway, people said that after crossing the Tropic of Cancer, there
would be more of a breeze, and the weather would cool off rapidly, the
nearer the _California_ got to San Francisco.

The majority of the passengers had come across the Isthmus from the
_Georgia_, and Charley recognized a number of them. The long-nosed man
and his two cronies carefully kept away from the Adams party; Charley
saw them only occasionally. After all, they were cowards, with guilty
consciences.

"Charley," said his father, that afternoon while they were together,
"what do you think of telling Mr. Grigsby about the mysterious miner we
took care of, back home, and his Golden West mining claim? Seems to me
Grigsby's a thoroughly honest man, he's been of great help to us, and
while he hasn't asked any questions he must be wondering why our friend
Jacobs is hounding us so."

"Yes, sir; I think he ought to know," asserted Charley.

"All right; we'll tell him to-night. Then he'll understand the
situation, and it may save us trouble. Besides, it's only fair. We
don't want him to support us blindfolded."

"No, sir," agreed Charley.

So that night, while turning in, in the cabin, Mr. Adams laid the
situation before the tall Fremonter. He explained the whole affair,
from the beginning to the sailing of the _Georgia_. And he showed the
scrawl by the mysterious miner, and the rough sketch and the buckskin
bags.

Mr. Grigsby thoughtfully nodded.

"I see," he mused, studying the sketch map. "Map's not very clear,
though. Might be a map of the American River, out of Sutter's Fort.
That's the main overland emigrant trail, down from the Sierra, and
where the first gold excitement l