For a year or two, Perley was content to move on slowly. After that, he grew ambitious and restless again. The fire had not burned out; it was only covered for a while. Of Jenkins, his partner, he had no very high opinion. He considered him a mere plodding genius, whose mind was in no way suggestive. He would do for a well beaten track, but for enterprise he was nobody. So he thought. But Jenkins had rather more shrewdness than his partner gave him credit for. He belonged to the class of men who think a great deal before they act, and who, therefore, rarely make mistakes in business matters. He understood Perley “like a book,” and was, therefore, prepared to counteract, judiciously, all his efforts that were not wisely directed. Reactions of this kind becoming, as business grew into importance, more and more frequent, Mr. Perley felt restless under them, and often lamented that affairs were not entirely under his own control. This was the aspect of things when the golden news from California startled the most sober-minded with its tale of wonder. Perley believed every word of the first account, while Jenkins coolly took the liberty of doubting the whole story. “It’s preposterous,” said he. “But look at the official nature of the intelligence,” urged Perley. [Illustration: _Engraved Expressly for Graham’s Magazine._ A CASE OF GOLD FEVER.] “Officials can lie as well as other people. It’s all a speculation to get settlers out there. Don’t tell me of gold scattered about as thick as jack-stones.” Perley maintained the other side of the question, and soon had the satisfaction of pushing most abundant confirmations into the face of his partner. “Well,” said Jenkins, “what of it? Suppose there is gold there? It doesn’t make me any better off.” “But it will make you better off, if you seize the advantage now offered to every energetic and truly enterprising man.” Mr. Jenkins opened his eyes rather wider than usual; then shrugging his shoulders, he answered: “My business creed is—‘Let well enough alone.’” “And mine,” replied Perley, “is to seize upon every advantage that offers.” At this point the conversation was interrupted, and as neither party, for good reasons, thought it advisable to renew it, the subject did not come up between them for several days. During this time Perley could think of little else but California, and the golden harvest it presented; and the more he thought of it, the more fully satisfied was he that an immense fortune might speedily be realized by trading in that region. What was in the way, when blankets sold for ten dollars each, a pair of boots for double that sum, flour for sixty dollars a barrel, and every thing else in proportion? “The fact is, Jenkins,” said he, renewing the subject not many days after the first conversation, “we must make some of this hay while the sun is shining.” “The golden hay, you mean.” “I do.” “How are we to make it?”