"I was. I was with Carson and Fremont in Forty-three--Forty-four, and again in Forty-five--Forty-six." "I know about those travels," cried Charley. "I'm reading Colonel Fremont's reports now. I'm just finishing his last one. I guess they're about the best description of California there is. Did you fight in the war?" The man smiled. "See my shirt?" he queried. "All we Fremont men wore these navy shirts--some of us clear through the campaign. The sloop of war _Portsmouth_ sent us a lot of ship's supplies, when we marched down from the mountains to Sutter's Fort, just before the uprising of the Bear War in June, Forty-six. I saved my shirt, and now I only wear it occasionally. I'm sorter proud of this shirt." "I should think you would be," agreed Charley. "Did you mine in California?" "Yes, sir. I started in to settle there, after the war, till the gold craze broke out. Ever see any dust?" "Some," admitted Charley. "There's not much in this sack now," continued the Fremont man, showing it. "But I've filled it many a time." "I've got a sack, too," said Charley, exhibiting it. "You've been out there?" "No, sir. I got this in St. Louis." "Let's see." And the man fingered it. "It's old-timer--been used plenty. Some dust sticking to it, too. Huh." "Is there lots of gold out there?" asked Charley. "Gold?" repeated the man; and laughed. "I found fifteen hundred dollars in two days, first thing; then I didn't find any for a month. But I cleaned up $10,000, and I'm going back after more. It's all luck, now; but after the surface has been scraped off, then it will be skill. Does your father know anything about mining?" "No, sir. He's a soldier. He was with General Scott." "That won't cut much figure," said the man, quickly. "Soldiers and sailors and lawyers and doctors and farmers and trappers and even Indians are all grubbing together--and none of us knows a blamed thing except that gold is soft and yellow and will pass for currency--sixteen dollars an ounce. But good luck to you. Going across the Isthmus, I reckon?" "Yes, sir." "That's the easier way. Well, if I see you out there and can help you along any way, you can count on me. But it's a country where every tub stands on its own bottom, and no man's any better than any other man." So saying, he threw his rifle into the hollow of his arm and paced away, into the cabin. Charley gazed after him, and reflected that although they might have an enemy with them, they also had made a friend. "If he was with Carson and Fremont, he's all right," declared Mr. Adams, when Charley related the conversation. "But we'll be beholden to nobody, as long as we can help ourselves. We two bunkies can paddle our own canoe, can't we?"