“Pretty good,” answered Tom, modestly.

“And you’re goin’ out to Californy to make your fortune?”

“I hope to do something that way.”

“And that gentleman with you—is he an old friend?”

“I am working for him; I am his private secretary.”

Peter Brush looked amazed.

“What does he want of a private secretary when he is crossing the plains?” he asked.

“I don’t know exactly.”

“What do you do, if you don’t mind tellin?” asked Mr. Brush.

“I carry a satchel,” said Tom.