"How kind you are, Mr. Ferguson!" exclaimed Tom, eagerly seizing the Scotchman's hand.
"No, my lad; I am only just. I am glad to help a boy who is working for his father and family."
"I shouldn't deserve to succeed if I didn't," said Tom, earnestly.
"Always bear that in mind, my lad, and God will smile on your efforts, and raise you up friends."
In spite of the high price, Tom and his partner felt justified now in stopping over night at the hotel where they had met with such a piece of good luck, and the next day started down the river for San Francisco.
CHAPTER XXI.
TOM BUYS A BUSINESS.
It was an interesting moment for our two friends when they landed in San Francisco. The future Western metropolis was only a town of scattered wooden and adobe houses, with irregular streets and a general lack of uniformity in its buildings; but everybody seemed on the alert. The number of drones was wonderfully small; even the constitutionally lazy could not resist the golden incentives to labor. Money was looked upon with very different eyes there and at the East. No one took the trouble to dispute prices; and a man who landed with an article rare or desirable could often obtain twenty times its value. Within ten minutes of his arrival Tom witnessed a case of this kind.