"Yes, we met in the streets of San Francisco; both penniless, yet both determined to conquer fortune, and to wring from the bowels of our mother earth the gold which should enable us to achieve the purposes of our lives." "You remember we formed a chance acquaintance, which afterward ripened into friendship." "It did," answered the other man. "But at the same time we entered into a singular agreement. We resolved that whatever our past history might be, it should remain buried in oblivion, so long as we dwelt together in the wilds of California. We agreed that neither should tell his companion the secrets of his life, or the purpose which he had to accomplish in the future; that even our names should be unknown to each other, and that though living together upon the footing of friends and brothers, we should address each other merely as Brown and Smith." "Yes, this was our bond." "We further resolved that we would spend the last dollars we possessed in the purchase of a set of implements, and that we would penetrate into the loneliest tract in the continent, into recesses never visited by the herd of gold-diggers, whose labors exhaust the soil in districts where the precious ore has been found. We determined to search for our prize where none had sought before us, and we resolved to brave every hardship, to endure every peril, for the several ends of our lives." "We did." "At San Francisco, we picked up our faithful Sambo yonder," said the man known as Brown, looking to the negro, "and we got a bargain." "Because poor Sambo was lame, massa. Very few gentlemen will buy lame niggers." "Lame or not, we found you a treasure, Sambo, and between us we soon contrived to cure your lame leg, and made you as sound as the best of us." "Yes," cried the negro, grinning from ear to ear, "you did, massa, you did. Kind good massa, Sambo never forget." "Well, Smith, after eight good months' labor in this district we find ourselves--" "About as well off as when we came here," answered the other; "we contrived to find a little gold dust during our first month's work, and that has enabled us to pay for the supplies we've had from the nearest village, and to keep up the war all the time; but beyond that we've had no luck whatever." "None; therefore my proposal is that we leave this place to-morrow at daybreak, and try a fresh district." The eyes of the man who called himself Smith sparkled at this proposition, but the negro interposed with an exclamation of terror: "You'll nebber go to-morrow, massa," he cried; "'scuse poor nigger what ought to mind his own business, but surely massa will nebber go to-morrow?" "And why not to-morrow?" asked Brown. "Because to-morrow Friday; massa, Friday bery unlucky day." "An unlucky day, Sambo, is it?" answered his master; "faith, I think every day has been precious unlucky to us for the last eight months." The negro shook his woolly head, and showed two rows of white teeth.