The next day as Thure and Bud were sitting in the shade of the cool side of the gulch, a little apart from the others, eating their lunch and discussing the great find they expected to make when they turned the water of the little stream into the new channel, Thure, whose eyes happened to be looking down the gulch at that moment, suddenly exclaimed:
"Hello, look who's coming!" and he pointed down the gulch to where a man could be seen walking slowly toward them, a pick and shovel and gold-pan slung across his broad shoulders, a Mexican sombrero on his head and the rest of his body clothed in a blue flannel shirt and linen trousers that had once been white, protected by deerskin leggings and thrust into the tops of knee-boots.
"Out prospecting, I reckon," and Bud glanced curiously at the advancing stranger, for visitors had been rare in that lonely gulch. "Let's ask him to dine with us," and he smiled as he glanced at the coarse but abundant fare spread out on the ground between them. "He must be hungry, if he has lugged those things on his back far. Hello!" and he turned to the stranger, who by this time had come to within a couple of rods of where the two boys sat, "You are just in time to help us finish up these beans and pork. Come and have a seat at our table," and he grinned a welcome, as he nodded toward the food.
"I don't care if I do," smiled back the stranger, as he flung pick and shovel and pan from his back and dropped down by the side of the boys, "especially since I've got a little jerked venison here that I know will taste good to you, if you've been living on salt pork as long as the most of the miners have," and he began to undo a little bundle tied to the end of his pick, and presently disclosed a chunk of dried venison and a couple of ship-biscuits, wrapped up in a coarse but clean cloth. This food he at once laid down on the cloth, which he had spread out on Bud's table, and bade the boys help themselves, at the same time and without any further invitation helping himself to the beans and pork.
"Wait, and I'll get you a cup of hot coffee," and Bud jumped to his feet and hurried to where Ham was superintending the boiling of a pot of coffee over the camp-fire.
"Say, dew you know who that feller is who has j'ined grub with you?" queried Ham, grinning, as he filled a tin cup full of the coffee and handed it to Bud.
"Oh, just a miner out prospecting, I reckon," answered Bud, as he took the coffee. "We thought we would be social and asked him to share our meal," and he started back with the coffee.
"Wal," and the grin on Ham's face broadened, "that feller is James W. Marshall!"
"What!" and Bud stopped so suddenly that he almost spilt the coffee. "Not the James W. Marshall who discovered the first gold in California!"
"Th' identicle cuss," laughed Ham. "But 'tain't done him much good so far."