I bought a stage ticket to Nipton, Cal., and from that point purchased a ticket to Los Angeles. Next day I shipped from Los Angeles to Weed, Cal. Weed is in the Siskiyou Mountains, six hundred miles from Los Angeles. I deserted the train at Stockton, Cal., with another young fellow, and we took the boat from this point to 'Frisco. By this manoeuvering I saved nearly half the fare from Searchlight to San Francisco. I had a hard time finding a lodging house in 'Frisco, for over four-fifths of the hotels had gone up in the big fire. After several hours of weary tramping about the streets, I found the St. George Hotel, a large frame building, erected temporarily on Mission street. Lodging in 'Frisco was high and board brought fabulous prices. Two weeks later I awoke to the realization that my $50.00 had dwindled to $5.00. Part of this money had gone for a new suit of clothes, but the other had been spent for living expenses. I couldn't start for home with but $5.00, and only one other course was left--I must go to work. I didn't care to work in 'Frisco, though, for it was only skilled labor that was commanding high prices. I met a young man in the hotel, P. A. Franck, from No. 3851 Juniata street, St. Louis, Mo., who had left his St. Louis home to make a fortune in San Francisco, but disappointed with the poor wages paid for labor in 'Frisco compared with the high cost of living expenses, he readily agreed to leave with me. Murray & Ready's Employment Bureau, on Tenth and Market streets, shipped us three hundred miles to the Sugar Pine Mountains, in central California to work at a saw-mill. We left the train at Madera, Cal., at which town was located the Sugar Pine Company's office. From Madera we took a sixty-mile stage ride through the Sugar Pine Mountains to the saw-mill, arriving there late one afternoon. That night we learned that the mill owners had decided to close down the mill until the following spring, and that, if we went to work, in all probability the job would give out by the time we had worked out our fare from San Francisco. That night we slept on the bare floor of a little log hut up the mountain side, the man in the company store saying all his bed covering had been sold out. The next morning we were both frozen nearly stiff; we awoke before light and struck the trail back to Madera. I had a thirty-pound grip of clothing and Franck was weighted down with a still heavier grip and an overcoat. All day long we tramped over the mountains, and all the following night. By morning of the second day we were making scarcely a mile an hour, and were so near played out we were forced to rest every ten or fifteen minutes. Once Franck's shoe became untied, and in stooping to tie it he pitched heavily forward upon his hands and knees. Only once did we get anything to eat, the halfway house sold us a scanty meal for 50 cents each. [Illustration: THE HOMEWARD JOURNEY.