"What?" cried Fred, suddenly sitting up, and wiping the perspiration from his brow.
I repeated the statement.
"It's a d——d lie," cried Fred.
"Then let's go and prove it so."
"How's the climate in that part of the world—hot or cold?"
"About the same as here."
Fred meditated for a few minutes, lighted his pipe, and smoked on in silence; and as there was nothing better to do. I joined him.
"We are not making a fortune here in California, and if we don't do any thing in Australia, we shall see the country, and that will be worth something," I said.
"Then let's go," cried Fred, refilling his pipe; and that very evening we commenced selling our stock of superfluous articles to our numerous neighbors, saving nothing but tent, revolvers, rifles, and a few other articles that would stand us in need when we reached Australia.
A week from the day that we made up our mind to try what luck there was in store for us in Australia, we were on board of a clipper ship, and with some two dozen other steerage passengers (for Fred and myself were determined to be economical) we were passing through the Golden Gate on our way to a strange land, where we did not possess a friend or acquaintance that we knew of.