"Oh, I was up north at Sutter's Fort, with Fremont and the rest, waiting to get supplies--this shirt, among other things." For Mr. Grigsby had donned his star-collar shirt, as if in honor of the occasion. "We marched in later." Monterey seemed to be a very quiet, sleepy old place. The majority of the citizens were the native Californians, wearing their picturesque costumes of slashed velvet trousers loose at the bottom and tight at the knee, red sashes about their waists, silk shirts and short velvet jackets, and peaked, wide-brimmed, tasseled felt hats. The morning air was chilly, although the sun shone brightly. In front of many of the stores and in the plaza or square little fires had been built, around which the people were huddling, to get warm. Mr. Grigsby explained that there wasn't a stove in town, probably, that everybody cooked in small fireplaces, and that until the Americans came and introduced the bonfire the natives were "too blamed lazy" to do more than shiver themselves warm! "Why, these natives wouldn't walk across a street," he said. "They all rode--that is, the men. And why not, when horses were to be had for nothing. Ten dollars would buy the best horse in the territory." Considerable of a crowd had gathered in front of the town hall, clustered and craning and gazing at some object in their midst. Mr. Grigsby, stalwart and proud in his Fremont shirt, sauntered to see. Presently he called and beckoned. "Here you are. Here's what you're looking for." So Mr. Adams and Charley crossed, also. The crowd gave way courteously, exposing a smiling, good-looking Californian, leaning against the heavy saddle of his horse. "Here you are," repeated Mr. Grigsby, who was fingering the contents of a small canvas sack, evidently the property of the horseman. "You want to see gold? Take a look at it." Following his father, Charley peeped within. The canvas sack was half full of dull yellow--a yellow like the yellow which the buckskin sack had contained, in St. Louis. However, this yellow was coarser. "Flake gold," announced Mr. Grigsby. "Straight from the mines. Is that not so, amigo?" "Si, senors," smilingly answered the native. And continued, in good English: "From the American River." "Did you get--find it?" queried Charley, eagerly. "Yes, and more. Everybody finds it who looks." "How long were you gone?" asked Mr. Adams. "Who knows, senor? Coming and going, perhaps two weeks, but I stopped with friends along the way." "How long were you in finding this, then?" "Four, maybe five, days. It is easy." "What will you do with it, senor?" inquired Mr. Grigsby. The man shrugged his shoulders. "Who knows? When one has money he has friends. For a few days I can be rich. When I am poor again, there is plenty more gold to be had." "Were there many other people searching?" asked Mr. Adams. "An army, senor. They are working like ants."