whips freely on their
sturdy little pack-horses in order to hold their places in the train.

All day long they pressed steadily forward, as fast as mule legs could
drag the heavy wagons; and, a little before night, they struck the
northern trail from San Francisco to Sacramento City, now a
well-traveled road. Here, for the first time, Thure and Bud began to get
something of an idea of what the rush to the gold-mines was like. There
were some twenty-five wagons, a hundred or more horsemen, and many men
on foot in sight of their eyes, when their wagons swung around a small
hill and on to the trail, now hardened into a road by the thousands of
wheels and hoofs that had recently passed over it; and all were hurrying
forward, as if they were fearful they would be too late to reap any of
the golden harvest.

"Great buffaloes!" and Tim Perkins turned anxiously to Thure, by whose
side he was riding, "dew you reckon all them folks are bound for the
diggin's?"

"Yes," answered Thure. "Can't you see that everyone is armed with a pick
and shovel and gold-pan? Why, even the men on foot are lugging picks and
shovels and gold-pans on their backs!"

"An'," continued Tim, the anxious look on his face deepening, "dew you
reckon they've bin a-tearin' over th' trail tew th' diggin's like this
for long; or is this jest a stampede we have struck?"

"A ship has probably landed at San Francisco lately," Thure replied;
"and these are some of the gold-seekers who came in it. But I don't
think from what I have heard that what we are seeing is an unusual sight
along this trail. They've been rushing to the mines like a herd of
stampeding cattle for months."

"Gosh! I'm afeard they'll find all th' gold afore we git thar! If
'twon't for Sal an' th yunks I'd hurry on ahead. Dang it, if I was only
thar right now I might be discoverin' a pocket full of gold, like that
miner aside your dad did, at this identical moment! Hi, thar, Jud," and
he turned his eyes glowing with excitement to the face of the
train-captain, "let's see if we can't git ahead of some of this tarnel
crowd; or they'll be a-landin' on all the good spots afore we git thar."

"Now, jest keep a tight rein on your hosses, Perkins," grinned Jud
Smith, the leader of the little company of Oregon gold-seekers; "an'
rekerleck th' old sayin' 'th' more haste th' less speed,' But," and an
uneasy look came into his own eyes, "it sure does look like all creation
had started for th' diggin's.