they'd guess that I knew the
captain. All we early Americans in California knew _him_, and he stood
ready to help us out. Well, sir, they left a clue, at any rate. We'll
follow as fast as we can."

"Do you think we'll catch them?" asked Charley, eagerly.

"We'll do our best, whether we catch 'em or not," answered the
Fremonter. "It's a big country, up yonder in the mountains, as they'll
find out. Now, I'm thinking that we can't do better than to take the
trail up the south branch of the American, to the saw-mill, and see Jim
Marshall. He's been living right in the middle of things and may know
something we'll want to hear."

"You mean the Marshall who discovered this California gold, for
Americans?" queried Charley's father. "Well, I'd certainly like to see
him, and have Charley see him; and the place, too."

"All right. Maybe we can kill two birds with one stone," answered the
Fremonter. "And from the mill we can work north, to the other branch
of the American."

The baggage was undisturbed, on the levee. Charley held the burro, and
his father and Mr. Grigsby proceeded to pack her. Mr. Grigsby had
stopped at a store, on their way, and bought two crowbars, a new rope
and a pack-saddle, and some dried-beef. The crowbars cost $1.50 each,
the rope cost $5, and the pack-saddle, of oak and rawhide and shaped
like two letter X's fastened together by the middle, cost $8. The meat
was the cheapest. It came in long strips, and sold by the yard--six
yards for fifty cents!

The Fremonter was of course an expert at packing a horse or mule, and
Mr. Adams knew considerable about it, from his army experience.
Charley wondered at the neatness with which his comrades hoisted aboard
all the variously shaped articles, and tied them fast so that they
balanced.

"They call this the diamond hitch," grunted Mr. Grigsby, as he hauled
tight, while the little burro stood with ears meekly drooped. "Rope
makes the shape of a diamond--see? But it's only the regular trappers'
pack throw. I've used it a thousand times and more. Well, we're all
ready; hurrah for the gold mines. Charley, you can lead the critter.
I'll go ahead, to show the road."

"Hurrah for the gold mines!" echoed Charley; and away they trudged.

As they left the hurly-burly of the _embarcadero_, and threaded their
way through the bustling town, which was like another San Francisco,
nobody appeared to notice their march. It probably was an old story,