Gold Seekers of 49 | Page 6

had been crazy over the California gold.
It was claimed that as far back as January, 1848, a man named Marshall,
while digging a mill-race somewhere in interior Upper California, for a
Captain Sutter of Sutter's Fort ranch, on the emigrant trail over the
Sierra Nevada mountain-range down to Sacramento, had washed into
plain sight an unlimited supply of gold flakes.
However, when the news first had reached Washington and New York
and had filtered back to St. Louis, it was several months old and
seemed scarcely worth attention, California being such a long way off.
But now the President himself was authority for the fact that gold

actually was lying around loose, for anybody to pick up, in this fair
new land of California, and that thousands of people already were
gathering it!
The President offered as proof letters from Colonel Richard B. Mason,
the military governor of California, and from the Honorable Thomas O.
Larkin, who had been the United States consul in California. The letters
said not only that gold had been found, as before stated, but that 10,000
people (nearly all the able-bodied population of California) were out
looking for more, and finding it, too! Sailors were deserting the ships
and soldiers the ranks; servants were leaving the houses and merchants
the stores, and the whole territory was wild. Congressmen at
Washington asserted so much gold would be put on the market that
gold money would lose its value, it would be so common.
These reports sounded like fairy-tales come true. Think of it! Gold,
lying around on the surface of the ground, to be pocketed by the first
finders! In spite of the fact that California had been a part of the United
States only two years, or since the war with Mexico, and was distant
2000 miles across uninhabited desert and mountains, as soon as the
word about gold was guaranteed to be really the truth a tremendous
number of people here in the "States" set about dropping everything
else and starting right away, to seek their fortunes.
Hundreds of St. Louis people had left, in parties large and small, a few
to travel clear around Cape Horn of South America, or to cross the
Isthmus of Panama and to sail up the Pacific Coast, but the majority to
ride and walk, with wagon and team, across the deserts and mountains
from the Missouri River 2000 miles to California. A number of
neighbors and other friends of the Adamses had gone. Even Mr. Walker,
Billy Walker's father, was going as soon as he could provide so that his
family would not suffer in his absence; and he was talking of taking
Billy. As Billy was Charley's best chum, this seemed pretty mean--for
Charley, not for Billy, of course. To Charley there seemed no chance of
his going, traveling across those wild plains and ranges, sleeping out of
doors, and fighting Indians, perhaps, and then gathering gold in far
California itself. His father was laid up, still recovering from wounds

received in the war with Mexico. Charley was proud of his soldier
father, who had served under General Scott all through the war, until
disabled in the capture of Mexico City; but he did wish that there was
some way for them to go to those gold fields.
The snow-storm had about ceased. The snow was two feet deep, in the
streets, and the air was nipping chill. The streets were deserted, as
evening settled down and Charley neared home. Now when he passed
an open stairway, leading up into a building, he saw a huddled figure
just inside the entrance.
He hurried on, but suddenly he stopped short. The figure had not stirred,
as he passed--it looked odd--maybe it was only crouching there for
shelter from the wind and snow--or maybe it was asleep--or maybe
frozen. Jiminy! He ought not to go and leave it. Boy Scouts of America
had not been organized, in 1849; but Charley was a Boy Scout at heart,
so he turned back, anxious to do a good turn if possible.
When he peered into the entrance to the stairway, the huddled figure
was there, just as first seen. It was that of a man, in ragged clothing,
with worn boots, slouch hat, and unkempt beard visible where the face
was bent forward upon the chest and folded arms. The figure did not
move, and Charley spoke to it.
"Hello."
There was no response.
"Hello, there! What are you doing?"
Still no answer of any kind.
"Hey! Wake up!" bade Charley, more boldly. "You'll freeze."
Into Charley's throat welled a little tinge of fear; the figure remained so
quiet and motionless. He reached in and shook the man by the shoulder.
It was cold and stiff.

"Wake up! Wake up!"
Hurrah! The man