"You've got some pluck to travel so far away from home with such a
slender capital, by Jove!"

"I don't know that it's pluck.  It's necessity."

"Something of both, perhaps.  Don't you feel afraid of what may
happen?"

"No," said Joe.  "California is a new country, and there must be
plenty of work.  Now, I am willing to work and I don't believe I
shall starve."

"That's the way to feel, Joe.  At the worst, you have me to fall back
upon.  I won't see you suffer."

"It is very lucky for me.  I hope I shan't give you any trouble."

"If you do, I'll tell you of it," said Folsom, laughing.  "The fact
is, I feel rather as if I were your guardian.  An odd feeling that,
as hitherto I have been looked after by others.  Now it is my turn to
assume authority."

"You will find me obedient," said Joe, smiling.  "Seriously, I am so
inexperienced in the way of the world that I shall consider it a
great favor if you will give me any hints you may think useful to me."

Folsom became more and more pleased with his young charge.  He saw
that he was manly, amiable, and of good principles, with only one
great fault--poverty--which he was quite willing to overlook.

They selected their seats in the saloon, and were fortunate enough to
be assigned to the captain's table.  Old travelers know that those
who sit at this table are likely to fare better than those who are
farther removed.

While Folsom was walking the deck with an old friend, whom he had
found among the passengers, Joe went on an exploring expedition.

He made his way to that portion of the deck appropriated to the
steerage passengers.  Among them his eye fell on the man who swindled
him.

"You here!" exclaimed the fellow in amazement.

"Yes," said Joe, "I am here."

"I thought you said your ticket wasn't good?"

"It wasn't, as you very well know."

"I don't know anything about it.  How did you smuggle yourself
aboard?"

"I didn't smuggle myself aboard at all.  I came on like the rest of
the passengers."

"Why haven't I seen you before?"

"I am not a steerage passenger.  I am traveling first-class."

"You don't mean it!" ejaculated the fellow, thoroughly astonished.
"You told me you hadn't any more money."

"So I did, and that shows that you were the man that sold me the
bogus ticket."

"Nothing of the kind," said the other, but he seemed taken aback by
Joe's charge.  "Well, all I can say is, that you know how to get
round.  When a man or boy can travel first-class without a cent of
money, he'll do."

"I wouldn't have come at all if I had had to swindle a poor boy out
of his money," said Joe.

Joe walked off without receiving an answer.  He took pains to
ascertain the name of the man who had defrauded him.  He was entered
on the passenger-list as Henry Hogan.




CHAPTER X

THE DETECTED THIEF

"Do you expect to be seasick, Joe?"

"I don't know, Mr. Folsom.  This is the first time I have ever been
at sea."

"I have crossed the Atlantic twice, and been sick each time.  I
suppose I have a tendency that way."

"How does it feel?" asked Joe curiously.

Folsom laughed.

"It cannot be described," he answered.

"Then I would rather remain ignorant," said Joe.

"You are right.  This is a case where ignorance is bliss decidedly."

Twenty-four hours out Folsom's anticipations were realized.  He
experienced nausea and his head swam.

Returning from a walk on deck, Joe found his guardian lying down in
the stateroom.

"Is anything the matter, Mr. Folsom?"

"Nothing but what I expected.  The demon of the sea has me in his
gripe."

"Can I do anything for you?"

"Nothing at present, Joe.  What art can minister to a stomach
diseased?  I must wait patiently, and it will wear off.  Don't you
feel any of the symptoms?"

"Oh, no--I feel bully," said Joe.  "I've got a capital appetite."

"I hope you will be spared.  It would be dismal for both of us to be
groaning with seasickness."

"Shall I stay with you?"

"No--go on deck.  That is the best way to keep well.  My sickness
won't last more than a day or two."

The young man's expectations were realized.   After forty-eight hours
he recovered from his temporary indisposition and reappeared on deck.

He found that his young companion, had made a number of
acquaintances, and had become a general favorite through his frank
and pleasant manners.

"I think you'll get on, Joe," said he.  "You make friends easily."

"I try to do it," said Joe modestly.

"You are fast getting over your country greenness.  Of course you
couldn't help having a share of it, having never lived outside of a
small country village."

"I am glad you think so, Mr. Folsom.  I suppose I was very green and
I haven't got over it yet, but in six months I hope to get rid of it
wholly."

"It won't take six months at the rate you are advancing."

Day succeeded day and Joe was not sick at all.  He carried a good
appetite to every meal and entered into the pleasures of sea life
with zest.  He played shuffle-board on deck, guessed daily the ship's
run, was on the alert for distant sails, and managed in one way or
another to while away the time cheerfully.

They had got into the Gulf of Mexico, when, one day, there was an
unwonted commotion in the steerage.

A poor German had lost forty dollars, the entire capital he was
carrying with him to the new country.

"Some tief has rob me," he complained, in accents of mingled grief
and anger.  "He has rob me of all my gold.  He has not left me one
cent."

"When did you miss the money?" inquired the first officer.

"Just now," said the poor German.

"When did you see it last?"

"Last night when I went to mine bed."

"Did you take off your clothes?"

"No."

"What men sleep near you?"

The German pointed to two.  The first was a German.

"But he would not rob me.  He is mine friend," he said.  "He is
Fritz."

"Who is the other man?"

The German pointed to Henry Hogan, the same man who had defrauded Joe.

"The man's a fool," said Hogan.  "Does he mean to say a gentleman
like me would steal his paltry money?"

"He hasn't said so," said the first officer quietly.  "He only said
that you slept near him."

"He'd better not accuse me," blustered Hogan.

The officer was a judge of human nature, and Hogan's manner and words
made him suspect that he was really the guilty party.

"My man," said he, "you are making a fuss before you are accused.  No
charge has been made against you.  The man's money has been taken,
and some one must have taken it."

"I don't believe he ever had any," said Hogan.

"Can you prove that you had the money?" asked the officer, addressing
the German.  "Has any one on board seen it in your possession?"

An Irishman named Riley came forward.

"That can I do," said he.  "It was only yesterday morning that I saw
the man counting his money."

"In what denomination was the money?"

Pat Riley scratched his head.

"Sure I didn't know that money belonged to any denomination, sir."

The officer smiled.

"I mean, was it in five, or ten, or twenty dollar pieces."

"There was four tens, sir--four gould eagles."

"Is that right?" inquired the officer, turning to the German.

"Yes, sir, that's what I had."

"Then," said the officer, "it seems clearly proved that our German
friend here had the money he claims.  Now, I suggest that the two men
he has said occupied bunks nearest to him shall be searched.  But
first, if the man who has taken the money will come forward
voluntarily and return the same, I will guarantee that he shall
receive no punishment."

He paused for a brief space and looked at Hogan.

Hogan seemed uneasy, but stolid and obstinate.

"Since my offer is not accepted," said the officer, "let the two men
be searched."

Fritz, the young German, came forward readily.

"I am ready," he said.

"I am not," said Hogan.  "I protest against this outrage.  It is an
infringement of my rights as an American citizen.  If any one dares
to lay hands on me, I will have him arrested as soon as we reach
California."

His threat produced no effect upon the officer.  At a signal two
sailors seized him, and, despite his struggles, turned his pockets
inside out.

Among the contents were found four gold eagles.

"It is my money!" exclaimed the poor German.

"You lie!  The money is mine!" said Hogan furiously.

"There was a cross, which I scratched with a pin, on one piece," said
the German.  "Look! see if it is there."

Examination was made, and the scratch was found just as he described
it.

"The money evidently belongs to the German," said the officer.  "Give
it to him."

"You are robbing me of my money," said Hogan.

"Look here, my friend, you had better be quiet," said the officer
significantly, "or I will have you tied up to keep out of mischief.
You are getting off very well as it is.  I have no doubt you have
been up to other dishonest tricks before this one."

"That is true, sir," said Joe, speaking up for the first time.  "This
is the same man who sold me a bogus ticket, two days before we
sailed, for fifty dollars."

"It's a lie!" said Hogan.  "I'll be even with you some time, boy, for
that lie of yours."

"I don't care for the threats of such a scoundrel as you are," said
Joe undauntedly.

"Look out for him, Joe," said Folsom.  "He will try to do you a
mischief some time."

He would have been confirmed in his opinion had he observed the
glance of hatred with which the detected thief followed his young
ward.




CHAPTER XI

JOE ARRIVES IN SAN FRANCISCO

At the isthmus they exchanged steamers, crossing the narrow neck of
land on the backs of mules.  To-day the journey is more rapidly and
comfortably made in a railroad-car.  Of the voyage on the Pacific
nothing need be said.  The weather was fair, and it was uneventful.

It was a beautiful morning in early September when they came in sight
of the Golden Gate, and, entering the more placid waters of San
Francisco Bay, moored at a short distance from the town.

"What do you think of it, Joe?" asked Charles Folsom.

"I don't know," said Joe slowly.  "Is this really San Francisco?"

"It is really San Francisco."

"It doesn't seem to be much built up yet," said Joe.

In fact, the appearance of the town would hardly suggest the stately
capital of to-day, which looks out like a queen on the bay and the
ocean, and on either side opens her arms to the Eastern and Western
continents.  It was a town of tents and one-story cabins, irregularly
and picturesquely scattered over the hillside, with here and there a
sawmill, where now stand some of the most prominent buildings of the
modern city.  For years later there was a large mound of sand where
now the stately Palace Hotel covers two and a half acres.  Where now
stand substantial business blocks, a quarter of a century since there
appeared only sandy beaches or mud-flats, with here and there a
wooden pier reaching out into the bay.  Only five years before the
town contained but seventy-nine buildings--thirty-one frame,
twenty-six adobe, and the rest shanties.  It had grown largely since
then, but even now was only a straggling village, with the air of
recent settlement.

"You expected something more, Joe, didn't you?"

"Yes," admitted Joe.

"You must remember how new it is.  Ten years, nay, five, will work a
great change in this straggling village.  We shall probably live to
see it a city of a hundred thousand inhabitants."

The passengers were eager to land.  They were tired of the long
voyage and anxious to get on shore.  They wanted to begin making
their fortunes.

"What are your plans, Joe?" asked Charles Folsom.

"I shall accept the first job that offers," said Joe.  "I can't
afford to remain idle long with my small capital."

"Joe," said the young man seriously, "let me increase your capital
for you.  You can pay me back, you know, when it is convenient.
Here, take this gold piece."

Our young hero shook his head.

"Thank you, Mr. Folsom," he said, "you are very kind, but I think it
will be better for me to shift on what I have.  Then I shall have to
go to work at once, and shall get started in my new career."

"Suppose you can't find work?" suggested Folsom.

"I will find it," said Joe resolutely.

"Perhaps we might take lodgings together, Joe."

"I can't afford it," said Joe.  "You're a gentleman of property, and
I'm a poor boy who has his fortune to make.  For the present I must
expect to rough it."

"Well, Joe, perhaps you are right.  At any rate, I admire your pluck
and independent spirit."

There was a motley crowd collected on the pier and on the beach when
Joe and his friend landed.  Rough, bearded men, in Mexican sombreros
and coarse attire--many in shirt-sleeves and with their pantaloons
tucked in their boots--watched the new arrivals with interest.

"You needn't feel ashamed of your clothes, Joe," said Folsom, with a
smile.  "You are better dressed than the majority of those we see."

Joe looked puzzled.

"They don't look as if they had made their fortunes," he said.

"Don't judge by appearances.  In a new country people are careless of
appearances.  Some of these rough fellows, no doubt, have their
pockets full of gold."

At this moment a rough-looking fellow stepped forward and said
heartily:

"Isn't this Charles Folsom?"

"Yes," answered Folsom, puzzled.

"You don't remember me?" said the other, laughing.

"Not I."

"Not remember Harry Carter, your old chum?"

"Good Heaven!" exclaimed Folsom, surveying anew the rough figure
before him.  "You don't mean to say you are Harry Carter?"

"The same, at your service."

"What a transformation!  Why, you used to be rather a swell and
now----"

"Now I look like a barbarian."

"Well, rather," said Folsom, laughing.

"You want me to explain?  Such toggery as I used to wear would be the
height of folly at the mines."

"I hope you have had good luck," said Folsom.

"Pretty fair," said Carter, in a tone of satisfaction.  "My pile has
reached five thousand dollars."

"And how long have you been at work?"

"A year.  I was a bookkeeper in New York on a salary of fifteen
hundred dollars a year.  I used to spend all my income--the more fool
I--till the last six months, when I laid by enough to bring me out
here."

"Then you have really bettered yourself?"

"I should say so.  I could only save up five hundred dollars a year
at the best in New York.  Here I have crowded ten years into one."

"In spite of your large outlay for clothes?"

"I see you will have your joke.  Now, what brings you out here?  Are
you going to the mines?"

"Presently, but not to dig.  I came to survey the country."

"Let me do what I can for you."

"I will.  First, what hotel shall I go to?"

"There is the Leidesdorff House, on California Street.  I'll lead you
there."

"Thank you.  Will you come, Joe?"

"Yes, I will go to find out where it is."

The three bent their steps to the hotel referred to.  It was a shanty
compared with the magnificent hotels which now open their portals to
strangers, but the charge was ten dollars a day and the fare was of
the plainest.

"I guess I won't stop here," said Joe, "My money wouldn't keep me
here more than an hour or two."

"At any rate, Joe, you must dine with me," said Folsom.  "Then you
may start out for yourself."

"You must dine with me, both of you," said Carter.

Folsom saw that he was in earnest, and accepted.

The dinner was plain but abundant, and all three did justice to it.
Joe did not know till afterward that the dinner cost five dollars
apiece.

After dinner the two friends sat down to talk over old times and
mutual friends, but Joe felt that there was no time for him to lose.
He had his fortune to make.  Still more important, he had his living
to make, and in a place where dollars were held as cheap as dimes in
New York or Boston.

So, emerging into the street, with his small bundle under his arm, he
bent his steps as chance directed.




CHAPTER XII

JOE FINDS A JOB

Joe knew nothing about the streets or their names.  Chance brought
him to Clay Street, between what is now Montgomery and Kearny
Streets.  Outside of a low wooden building, which appeared to be a
restaurant, was a load of wood.

"I wonder if I couldn't get the chance to saw and split that wood?"
thought Joe.

It would not do to be bashful.  So he went in.

A stout man in an apron was waiting on the guests.  Joe concluded
that this must be the proprietor.

"Sit down, boy," said he, "if you want some dinner."

"I've had my dinner," said Joe.  "Don't you want that wood outside
sawed and split?"

"Yes."

"Let me do it."

"Go ahead."

There was a saw and saw-horse outside.  The work was not new to Joe,
and he went at it vigorously.  No bargain had been made, but Joe knew
so little of what would be considered a fair price that in this first
instance he chose to leave it to his employer.

As he was at work Folsom and his friend passed by.

"Have you found a job already?" said Folsom.

"Yes, sir."

"You have kept your promise, Joe.  You said you would take the first
job that offered."

"Yes, Mr. Folsom; I meant what I said."

"Come round to the Leidesdorff House this evening and tell me how you
made out."

"Thank you, sir, I will."

"That seems a smart boy," said Carter.

"Yes, he is.  Help him along if you have a chance."

"I will.  I like his pluck."

"He has no false pride.  He is ready to do anything."

"Everybody is here.  You know Jim Graves, who used to have his
shingle up as a lawyer on Nassau Street?"

"Yes.  Is he here?"

"He has been here three months.  What do you think he is doing?"

"I couldn't guess."

"I don't think you could.  He has turned drayman." Charles Folsom
gazed at his friend in wonder.

"Turned drayman!" he exclaimed.  "Is he reduced to that?"

"Reduced to that!  My dear fellow, you don't understand the use of
language.  Graves is earning fifteen dollars a day at his business,
and I don't believe he made that in New York in a month."

"Well, it is a strange state of society.  Does he mean to be a
drayman all his life?"

"Of course not.  A year hence he may be a capitalist, or a lawyer
again.  Meanwhile he is saving money."

"He is a sensible man, after all; but, you see, Carter, it takes time
to adjust my ideas to things here.  The first surprise was your rough
appearance."

"There is one advantage my rough life has brought me," said Carter.
"It has improved my health.  I was given to dyspepsia when I lived in
New York.  Now I really believe I could digest a tenpenny nail,
or--an eating-house mince pie, which is more difficult."

"You have steep hills in San Francisco."

"Yes, it is something of a climb to the top of Clay Street Hill.
When you get to the top you get a fine view, though."

Now the hill may be ascended in cars drawn up the steeply graded
sides by an endless rope running just below the surface.  No such
arrangement had been thought of then.  Folsom gave out when he had
completed half the ascent.

"I'll be satisfied with the prospect from here," he said.