pans. They all were so busy that they seemed to note
nothing on either side of them or overhead. Their eyes were glued to
the sand and the holes and the pans. Other parties had halted by the
way, for rest in the shade of trees; and these hailed the Adams party
with the usual calls: "How far to the diggin's, strangers?" "This is
the American, ain't it?" "Say! How much do you s'pose a man can dig
in a day, up there?" "Where you folks from, and where you bound?" "Is
it always this hot in Californy?" And so forth, and so forth.

Several parties on their way back to Sacramento also were met; they
were brown and hairy and rough and ragged, and some of them limped
weakly as if they could scarcely carry their weapons, picks, spades,
crowbars and blanket-rolls. They all were received with a perfect
volley of excited queries from the resting parties--to which they
replied with wave of hand and sometimes with a triumphant flourish of a
fat little sack.

But Mr. Grigsby paused not for the gold seekers in the river, or under
the trees, or on the way down. He tramped stoutly, with his long
stride; Charley just as stoutly followed behind, leading the packed
burro, and at the tail of the burro strode, a little unevenly, the tall
and soldierly Mr. Adams.

[Illustration: From Sacramento to "the diggin's," 1849. Showing the
trail of Charley Adams' party, searching for the Golden West Mine]

The dusty road continued through the wide rolling plain which formed
the east half of the great Valley of the Sacramento. The herbage was
short and brown, except at the margin of the streams, and the hot
landscape was broken by occasional large spreading trees, singly and in
clumps. As the foothills gradually drew nearer, the number of miners
became greater. Finally, at sunset, Mr. Grigsby halted at a grassy
hollow, near the American, where there was a considerable camp of men,
and even two women. A rude sign announced the title "Woodchuck's
Delight."

"We'll camp, too, I reckon," he quoth, dropping his pack; and Charley
was glad to hear the words. "How are you?" greeted Mr. Grigsby to the
nearest miners, as he turned to unpack the burro.

"Howdy, strangers? Where you from and where you going?"

"Just coming in, or have you made one pile?"

"That's a burro, ain't it? Will you sell him?"

"What might your names be, strangers?"

To these and other queries Mr. Grigsby answered good-naturedly, as he
and Mr. Adams stripped the