ew to travel clear around Cape Horn of South America, or to cross the
Isthmus of Panama and to sail up the Pacific Coast, but the majority to
ride and walk, with wagon and team, across the deserts and mountains
from the Missouri River 2000 miles to California. A number of
neighbors and other friends of the Adamses had gone. Even Mr. Walker,
Billy Walker's father, was going as soon as he could provide so that
his family would not suffer in his absence; and he was talking of
taking Billy. As Billy was Charley's best chum, this seemed pretty
mean--for Charley, not for Billy, of course. To Charley there seemed
no chance of _his_ going, traveling across those wild plains and
ranges, sleeping out of doors, and fighting Indians, perhaps, and then
gathering gold in far California itself. His father was laid up, still
recovering from wounds received in the war with Mexico. Charley was
proud of his soldier father, who had served under General Scott all
through the war, until disabled in the capture of Mexico City; but he
did wish that there was some way for them to go to those gold fields.

The snow-storm had about ceased. The snow was two feet deep, in the
streets, and the air was nipping chill. The streets were deserted, as
evening settled down and Charley neared home. Now when he passed an
open stairway, leading up into a building, he saw a huddled figure just
inside the entrance.

He hurried on, but suddenly he stopped short. The figure had not
stirred, as he passed--it looked odd--maybe it was only crouching there
for shelter from the wind and snow--or maybe it was asleep--or maybe
frozen. Jiminy! He ought not to go and leave it. Boy Scouts of
America had not been organized, in 1849; but Charley was a Boy Scout at
heart, so he turned back, anxious to do a good turn if possible.

When he peered into the entrance to the stairway, the huddled figure
was there, just as first seen. It was that of a man, in ragged
clothing, with worn boots, slouch hat, and unkempt beard visible where
the face was bent forward upon the chest and folded arms. The figure
did not move, and Charley spoke to it.

"Hello."

There was no response.

"Hello, there! What are you doing?"

Still no answer of any kind.

"Hey! Wake up!" bade Charley, more boldly. "You'll freeze."

Into Charley's throat welled a little tinge of fear; the figure
remained so quiet and motionless. He reached in and shook the man by
the shoulder. It was