It never entered his head to ask any one to give her a home. He felt under unpayable obligations already to Mr. Harwood for bringing them so far upon their way, and treating them so kindly, therefore to ask him to do more, he thought would be the greatest presumption, so instead of asking help of any man, he asked it of God.
He was still sitting with his head bowed on his knees, and the tears streaming down his cheeks, most earnestly praying, when, suddenly, a flash from the light of a lantern passed over him, and a voice exclaimed: "why, here you are, I have been searching for you for ever so long."
It was one of the young men from St. Louis, with whom Guy had been on most excellent terms ever since they left W——.
"Yes, it is I," he returned, rather reluctantly, for he was ashamed that he should have found him crying. "What is the matter, John?" he presently added.
"The matter! why, don't you know we are to break up camp to-morrow, and one party go one way into California, and the other another! Now, which one are you going with, Guy?"
"I don't know," he said, with difficulty repressing a sob, "one part of California is the same to me as another. I have no friends there, and, oh dear, I very much fear I ought not to have come at all."
"Oh, don't say that," exclaimed John, cheerfully, "you just come along with me and my partners, we are going straight to the placer diggings, and we'll take care of you until you can do for yourself, which won't be long, you may be sure; I shouldn't wonder if you're as rich as Rothschild in a few years."
Guy's eyes sparkled, but in a moment his countenance fell, and he faltered out,—
"But what is to become of mother,—I couldn't leave her alone in a strange country, her heart would break."