was--a large frame building, apparently not all completed, amidst
a clearing of stumps, on the edge of a ravine near the foot of a slope.
Several log cabins and a number of tents stood near it; and shacks and
tents dotted the gullies around. But, as Captain Sutter had said, the
mill was not running; and as the red-whiskered man had alleged, the
locality was not bustling.

"I expect the place has been all worked out, by the first rush,"
commented Mr. Grigsby, as he led on, up the well-marked trail.

"This is where the gold was discovered in Forty-eight, is it?" queried
Charley's father, as on the edge of the clearing they paused, to take
breath, and gaze about them.

"Yes, sir; and unless I'm much mistaken, there's Jim Marshall himself,
in front of that cabin."

So saying, followed by his party the Fremonter crossed the clearing, as
if making for one of the cabins before whose open door a man was
sitting, on a stool. The man appeared scarcely to notice their
approach, and barely turned his head when, halting, Mr. Grigsby
addressed him.

"How are you, Jim? I met you down at Sutter's, after the war. My
name's Grigsby."

"Yes, I remember your being 'round there," responded Mr. Marshall, in a
soft, slow drawl, rising to shake hands. "The country wasn't so full,
then."

He was a rather tall, well-built man, with long brown beard and slouch
hat. He had wide brown eyes, with a sombre gaze in them. In fact, his
whole countenance was sober and a bit sullen.

"So you're still at the mill."

"I have been, but I'm going out. There's no place for me here. The
man who discovered this gold ain't given an ounce of it," and Mr.
Marshall's voice was bitter. "What did I get for all I did when I
opened that mill-race? Nothing; not even gratitude. It's Government
land, they say, and so the people flock in and take it, and my only
chance is to rustle like everybody else. Do you think that's fair?
No, sir! If I had my percentage of all the gold being mined around
here I'd be a rich man. Instead, they give me a hundred feet, and
expect me to dig like the rest. Bah! I'll starve, first."

Although Mr. Marshall was trying to make this a tale of woe, Charley,
for one, could not quite see the reasonableness in it.

"Well, Jim," hastily soothed Mr. Grigsby, "this is a country of hustle,
and most of us have to look out for ourselves. You were here first,
and I suppose people figured on your making the most of opportuni