"I don't think I shall ever live to see California," answered Mr. Peabody plaintively.
"Why, what's the matter now?" asked Tom, checking an inclination to laugh; "are you sick?"
"I don't feel very well, Tom. I'm very delicate, and this journey is almost too much for my strength."
"Oh, cheer up, Mr. Peabody! Think of the gold that awaits you at the end of the journey."
"It's all that keeps me up, I do assure you. But I am afraid I shall never live to get there," said Peabody, with a groan.
"Don't think of such things, Mr. Peabody. Of course none of us is sure of living, but the chances are, that we shall reach California in health, make our fortunes, and go home rich. At any rate, that's what I am looking forward to."
"I wouldn't mind so much but for one thing, Tom."
"What is that?"
"Fletcher insists that I shall take my turn in standing guard. If I were not so delicate I wouldn't mind; but I know I can't stand it. I'll give you two dollars to take my place, every time my turn comes."
"I am willing, if Mr. Fletcher is," said Tom, who was by no means averse to making a little extra money.