lend him the money. Lend him the money! As
if Charley wouldn't gladly give him every cent--yes, and stay home
himself, to boot, if necessary. But that was not necessary; Charley
was to go, as partner and comrade.

Plans followed thick and fast, and Charley was chock full of news when
he found Billy Walker.

"You don't know what I know!"

"What?" asked Billy.

"I'm going out to California! I'll get there before you do!"

"Aw--honest?" queried Billy. "We start day after to-morrow. How'll
you beat us? When do you start? Who else is going?"

"Start next week. Dad and I."

"Why don't you come with us? We'd have a lot of fun. How are you
going to beat us? What's your outfit? We've got a mighty fine team of
horses."

"We are not going overland," announced Charley, triumphantly. "That's
too long, and my father needs the sea air. We're going across the
Isthmus and sail up the Pacific to San Francisco!"

"How long will that take?" demanded Billy.

"About a month and a half, in all."

"Oh, shucks!" said Billy. "It'll take us three months. That's what
the papers say, anyhow. Maybe you _will_ beat us, then. But I'll have
twice as much fun."

"Why?" asked Charley.

"Because we'll be twice as long--see? What are you going to take?
You'd better look over our stuff. Come on."

"We've bought everything we could here in St. Louis," explained Billy,
as he led the way. "They say California prices are awful, there's such
a rush. Our wagon's full."

And as it stood in the Walkers's back yard, it certainly was.

"We won't need such a lot of provisions," said Charley, wisely. "We
get fed on the boats."

"That's so," agreed Billy. "But dad and I'll use up 150 pounds of
flour and bacon apiece, just getting across. An article in the paper
said people ought to carry that much, besides coffee and sugar and salt
and all that. Now I'll show you my clothes."

That was more interesting. The stout flannel shirts and the jean
trousers and the heavy cow-hide boots and the belt and the wide-brimmed
slouch hat and the coarse knitted socks looked very business-like. Mr.
Walker's clothes were about the same, except that his flannel shirts
were red, while Billy's were blue. Charley resolved that he'd get red,
for himself.

"You ought to have guns, too," asserted Billy. "You might need 'em.
We'll need ours, I bet, for buffalo and Injuns and grizzly bears. The
papers say to take a rifle and pair of pistol