“Well, he isn’t exactly a millionnaire yet,” answered Grant, with a laugh.
“I’m afraid not, if we’re to judge by appearances,” and Mr. Cooper shook his head, as he bestowed another glance on Grant’s outfit. “He’d much better give up this notion of gold-digging and come back here in the shop with me.”
“But at mining you may strike it rich any day, you know,” returned Grant cheerfully. “Tom has really reason to feel encouraged, and may surprise you by making his fortune yet.”
“Those aint the kind of surprises that grow on every bush,” and Mr. Cooper once more sagely shook his head.
After accepting of the hospitality of the kindly blacksmith and his wife, Grant proceeded on his journey.
He was lucky enough to secure the only remaining seat in the next coach for San Francisco, and was soon started on the last stage of his progress toward the Golden Gate. Of his fellow passengers two were miners, two farmers, one a school-teacher, another a boy of about Grant’s age, and the seventh a black-eyed gentleman, who listened attentively to all that was said, but made very few remarks himself.
Grant was glad to find his place next to the youngest member of the party, who gave his name as Robert Campbell, and stated that he had been on a visit to a relative in Sacramento.
“I trust we don’t fall in with the road agents,” remarked one of the miners, soon after they had got under way.
“Why, do you think there is any danger of it?” inquired the school-teacher anxiously.
“Well, that’s one of the things we may expect on such a trip as we are taking,” returned the miner, adding: “I’d much prefer they wouldn’t make me hold up my hands this time, however.”