the shadowy darkness of the surrounding night!

Thure and Bud were very tired; but they stood for many minutes looking
on this wondrous and fairylike scene, half expecting to see it all
vanish instantly at the wave of some magician's wand, before they turned
to prepare for the night. On their way back to camp and just as they
were passing a large camp-fire, they met two horsemen riding down toward
the ferry.

"No crossing to-night!" called out Thure.

The two horsemen turned their faces in their direction; and both boys
started, for, by the light of the camp-fire, they saw that one of the
men was large and the other was small and that the nose of the large man
had been broken, and then the darkness hid their faces from their sight,
as the two horsemen hurried on without uttering a word in reply.

CHAPTER VIII

ACCUSED OF MURDER

There were no laggards in the camp on the west side of the Sacramento
River the next morning. Long before sun-up a line of wagons and animals
and men stood waiting at the ferry, ready to be carried across the
river; and among the first of these were our anxious young friends,
Thure and Bud. They had pushed on ahead of their fellow travelers of the
day before, the little company of Oregon gold-seekers, who had been
delayed in getting into the line on account of their wagons, and were
fortunate enough to get near the ferry; and, just as the first rays of
the morning's sun looked down on the novel and interesting scene, they
led their animals on board the ferry-boat.

The boat was jammed with men and wagons and horses and mules and oxen.
The men were all talking excitedly of the mines, the animals were
frightened and restless--indeed, all living beings seemed to breathe in
excitement and restlessness and anxiety out of the very air, with every
breath they drew into their bodies.

"Glory be!" commented Bud, as his eyes looked over the motley gathering
of men that crowded every available spot on the boat, "but this is a
queer-looking lot of men to see in the wilds of California! Looks like
every nation in the world was represented right here in this one boat
load and sounds like the confusion of tongues at the tower of Babel.
There sure has got to be a lot of gold, if everybody gets a share!" and
his face clouded. "Say, but this boat is slow!" and he turned his
impatient eyes toward the shore, where, in the garish light of day, the
city of canvas seemed real enough, but not a whit l