"I may say it was. The young lady was the daughter of a merchant prince.

I saw that she loved me, but her father would not consent to our union, on account of my limited means. I read in the _Transcript_ of the gold discoveries in California. I determined to go out there, and try my fortune. If I am successful I will go home, and, with a bag of gold in each hand, demand the hand of Matilda from her haughty sire. When he asks me for my credentials, I will point to the gold, and say, 'Behold them here!'"

"If both your hands are full I don't see how you can point to the bags of gold," said Tom, who liked to tease the young Bostonian.

"There are a great many things you don't understand," said Mr. Peabody, irritably.

"He is right, Tom," said Ferguson, with a quiet smile.

"If you are both against me, I will give it up," said Tom. "All I can say is, I hope you'll get the two bags of gold, Mr. Peabody, and that you'll get the young lady, too."

Here Fletcher came up, and called upon Tom to a.s.sist in preparations for supper. Our hero readily complied with the request. Indeed, he always showed himself so obliging that he won the favorable regards of all.

Mr. Peabody continued the conversation with Mr. Ferguson.

"Do you think there's as much gold in California as people say?" he asked.

"No," answered the Scotchman.

"You don't?" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the Bostonian, in dismay.

"No; people always magnify when they talk of a new country. Now, my friend, how much do you expect to get in the first year?"

"Well, about fifty thousand dollars," answered Peabody.

"And how much were you earning in Boston--a thousand dollars?"

"About that," answered Peabody vaguely. In fact, he had been working on a salary of twelve dollars a week, in a retail dry-goods store on Washington Street.

"Then you expect to make fifty times as much as at home?"

"Don't you think I will?"

"I have never had such large expectations. If I make three or four thousand dollars in twelve months it will satisfy me."

"But a man would never get rich, at that rate," said Lawrence Peabody uneasily.

"I don't know about that. It depends as much on what a man does with his money, as on the amount he makes," said the prudent Scot.

"I am afraid I did wrong in leaving Boston," said Peabody gloomily. "If I am to travel many weeks through the mud, and get no more than that, I shall feel that I am poorly paid."

"You don't feel like my young friend Tom. He is full of hope, and enjoys everything."

"He hasn't been brought up as I have," said Peabody. "A country boy in cowhide boots is tough, and don't mind roughing it."

Ferguson did not have a chance to answer, for there was a summons to supper--a welcome call, that made even Mr. Lawrence Peabody look cheerful for the time being.

CHAPTER XXIII.

MR. PEABODY'S TROUBLES.

When the party camped for the night the custom was to arrange the baggage wagons in a semicircle, and provide a resting-place for the women and children inside. As they were pa.s.sing through a country occupied by Indians it was necessary to post one or more sentinels to keep watch through the night, and give notice of any who might be seen lurking near the camp. Fortunately, however, an Indian attack was seldom made at night. The time generally selected was in the morning, when the party were preparing to start on their day's march. Tom, as a boy, would have been excused taking his turn; but this did not suit him. He requested as a favor, that he might stand watch with the rest.

"Can he be relied upon? Is he not too young?" asked Fletcher, the leader, of Mr. Ferguson.

"You can depend upon him," said the Scotchman confidently. "There's more manliness in Tom than in many men of twice his years."

"Then I will put his name on the list," said Fletcher.

"That's right. I'll answer for him."

But there was one of the travelers who was by no means eager to stand on watch. This was Lawrence Peabody, the young man from Boston. He sought an interview with Fletcher, and asked to be excused.

"On what grounds, Mr. Peabody?" asked Fletcher, surprised.

"It doesn't agree with me to lose my night's sleep," said Peabody. "I am naturally delicate, and----"

"Your excuse is not satisfactory, Mr. Peabody. We are banded together in a little community, having mutual rights and mutual obligations. In the arrangements made for the common safety it is your duty to bear your part."

"I am willing to provide a subst.i.tute," said Peabody eagerly.

"Where will you find a subst.i.tute?"

"I have been talking with Tom Nelson. He says he is willing to serve in my turn."

"He will serve when his own turn comes; that will be all we can expect of him."

"But he is only a boy. Why should he be expected to take his turn?"

"If he is old enough to be a subst.i.tute, he is old enough to stand watch for himself."

"But, Mr. Fletcher, I am very delicate," protested Lawrence Peabody. "I must have my regular sleep, or I shall be sick."

"We must take our chances of that, Mr. Peabody."

"I shall be very likely to go to sleep on my post."

"I wouldn't advise you to," said Fletcher seriously. "It might be dangerous."

"Dangerous!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Peabody nervously.

"Precisely. If a lurking Indian should surprise you, you might wake up to find yourself scalped."

"Good gracious!" exclaimed the Bostonian, his teeth chattering, for he was not of the stuff of which heroes are made. "Do you--think there is any danger of that?"

"Considerable, if you neglect your duty."