lighted as he. "I expect you've made as much as half a
dollar. Now it's time for tenderfeet to go to bed."

Through the dusk Charley trudged back to the fire, with his pan and his
gold, feeling much indeed like a regular Forty-niner.

His father and Mr. Grigsby were sitting by the fire, talking, when in
he burst upon them.

"I got some! I got some!" panted Charley.

"Did you? All right. Show up."

"It's in my sack. See?" And Charley "showed." "I didn't stay to pan
much. But I learned how."

"A trace of gold, and considerable sand," pronounced Mr. Grigsby. "But
that's enough, for a starter--only you want to dry that stuff out, lad,
and blow the sand away. Understand?"

"We've decided to push right along, Charley," said his father, just as
if he and Mr. Grigsby considered Charley as much of a partner as they
were, "up the trail to Marshall's place; then we can turn north for the
north branch of the American, or for the Yuba and the Feather beyond.
They're all mining districts. Do you agree?"

"I agree," assented Charley. "And whenever we camp we can wash out
gold, can't we?"

His father laughed.

"Certainly. By the time the mine is reached, may you'll have filled
your sack."

Charley yawned mightily. The future seemed golden bright--yet he felt
as though he couldn't keep awake long enough to discuss it. His father
yawned; so did Mr. Grigsby; already the majority of the campers were
stretched out in their blankets, some of them snoring; and to bed went
the Adams party, also.

Charley removed his boots and trousers and flannel shirt; and rolling
himself in his army blanket used them as a pillow--the fashionable
scheme, he noticed. He was asleep so soon, and slept so "fast," that
he was perfectly astonished to wake into daylight and breakfast time.

The camp of Woodchuck's Delight was breaking apart, for a number of its
tender-footed inhabitants had started on, up or down the trail. As his
father and Mr. Grigsby were packing the burro, the red-whiskered giant
of the evening before passed by, and waved an "Adios."

"It's almost time that we met some of the overland crowd, isn't it?"
remarked Mr. Adams, as they took up the march, in the same order as
before.

"Not quite," answered Mr. Grigsby. "That's a four months' trip, and I
don't reckon any of 'em got away much before the middle of April.
It'll be two or three weeks or more, yet, when the first of them cross
the range."

"Will they