mselves were gaunt and ragged
and pitiable. As brown as any Arabs and as bearded as the miners were
the leading horsemen.

"Howdy?" greeted one, with a nod. "How far to Sutter's?"

"Seventy miles," responded a score of voices. "Where you from?"

"The Missouri River."

"When did you leave?"

"Last week in April."

The first of the wagons came lumberingly creaking in. It was drawn by
two yoke of lean spotted oxen. The wheels had been wrapped with
rawhide, for repairs, and the canvas top was torn and discolored and
askew. From the puckered front peered a woman and two children; the
man of the family was walking wearily beside, swinging an ox-goad.

"Howdy, strangers?" he hailed, as he halted. "Are these the Californy
diggin's?"

"Is this Californy?" put in the woman, quaveringly.

"You bet your bottom dollar, friends," was the hearty answer. "This is
Californy, and these are the Shirt-tail Diggin's, the best on 'arth."

"Haven't got any flour for trade, have you?" queried the man.

"Nary flour, nary anything for trade, stranger, but I'll _give_ you a
sack o' the best flapjack flour that ever came out a store."

"Hooray for the first woman in Shirt-tail Diggin's!" rose the cheer,
and the crowd surged forward excitedly.

"No, strangers, I don't want your flour for nothin'," said the man, as
if a little alarmed. "I'm busted for money, but I'll trade ye, and
trade ye fair."

"Where's the gold? I'd like to see some gold," ventured the woman--a
little alarmed at the uproar.

"Pass the hat, boys," ordered the spokesman of the camp; he fished out
his buckskin sack, shook a generous portion into the top of his old
hat, and started the hat through the crowd. Somebody hustled back with
flour, somebody else with bacon; Shirt-tail camp fairly fought for the
privilege of handing these and other supplies in, to the wagon, and
there was added a buckskin sack half full of dust.

"Oh, we can't take these," appealed the woman, shrinking. She wasn't
handsome, just now; she was thin, haggard and tanned, and wore a calico
gown; but to the miners she was a woman, just the same, and Charley
found himself wishing she were his mother.

"Take 'em! Throw 'em in, boys, anyway. They're for the first woman in
Shirt-tail. Hooray! Hooray!"

"Charley Adams! Oh, Charley!" cried a voice, piercing the crazy
clamor. Charley whirled and looked. It was--why, Billy Walker! Of
course! Billy Walker! He had forgotten abou