llowing delicately the moods or
reflections of the spirit within, or whether it was a purely fortuitous
effect of light and refraction, no man was ever able to say. And some
men later made some very bad guesses. I myself think it was the devil of
genius--a devil behind the steady control of a clear brain. His name, I
soon discovered, was Talbot Ward.

At this period I was starting in as an assistant bookkeeper to a large
exporting firm. They were enterprising people, and already they were
laying plans to capture some of the California trade. The office talk I
heard concerning the purchase of ships, the consignment of arms, the
engagement of captains and of crews further inflamed my imagination. I
received the vast sum of nine dollars per week. As I was quite alone in
the world, and possessed no other resources, the saving of the five
hundred dollars agreed upon as the least sum with which it was possible
to get to California was fairly out of all question.

One evening, after the meeting, to my great surprise, Ward fell into
step with me. We had up to that moment never exchanged a word.

"In New York long?" he demanded.

"About six months," I told him.

"Farm bred, of course?" he remarked. "Where?"

"Ashbury in Vermont," I replied, without the slightest feeling that he
was intrusive.

He stopped short in the street and looked me up and down reflectively,
but without comment.

"I've been watching you at these fool meetings," said he, falling into
step again.

In spite of myself I experienced a glow of gratification at having been
the object of his interest.

"Fool meetings?" I echoed inquiringly.

"Suppose, by a miracle, all that lot could agree, and could start for
California to-morrow, in a body--that's what they are organized for, I
believe," he countered--"would you go with them?"

"Why not?"

"Martin is why not; and Fowler is why not; and that little Smith runt,
and six or eight others. They are weak sisters. If you are going into a
thing, go into it with the strong men. I wouldn't go with that crowd to
a snake fight if it was twelve miles away. Where do you live?"

"West Ninth Street."

"That's not far. Have you a good big room?"

"I have a very small hall bedroom," I replied wonderingly; "a number of
us have the whole of the top floor."

Somehow, I must repeat, this unexplained intrusion of a total stranger
into my private affairs did not offend.

"Then you must have a big sitting-room. How