"Who are you?" demanded the captain, brusquely.  
"I'm one of your passengers; that's enough. I've paid my money to get to San Francisco with reasonable comfort and dispatch. We are late now, and , and I protest against your delaying to take more passengers aboard."
 
"I'm running this ship. You get back where you belong," ordered the captain.
 
"This is a party of tramps," the long-nosed man. "They've come off the beach with a forged letter. I know 'em. I'll report you to the company. I'll see if the United States Government won't——"
 
"For shame!"
 
"Put him out!"
 
"Throw him overboard!"
 
Cries from the other passengers interrupted him; and so did the captain.
 
"Here! Chuck this fellow aft!" he called, to the sailors. "If he makes any more fuss, put him below and keep him there." And he summoned, to Mr. Adams: "Come aboard, and hurry up."
 
So on up the stairs clambered Charley.
 
"Good-bye," he called back, to young Mr. Motte.
 
Mr. Grigsby and Charley's father followed; and on the instant the captain hurried to the bridge. The steamer's paddle-wheels began to turn; she ahead.
 
Sailors closed the rail, and Charley and his two companions were left there. Below, the two canoes fell behind. Charley waved to them, and was answered.
 
So at last they actually were off, on the last leg of their journey to California. It had been a narrow .
 
"That long-nosed individual seems to prefer your absence to your company," remarked Mr. Grigsby, leaning upon his rifle and glancing coolly about.
 
"Yes. We've some information he thinks he can use better than we can," answered Mr. Adams.
 
"You may have to deal with him pretty smartly, if he crosses your trail many more times," observed Mr. Grigsby.
 
"We will, when necessary," promised Mr. Adams. "We'll take care of ourselves; eh, Charley?"
 
"Yes, sir," agreed Charley.
 
"Very good," said Mr. Grigsby. "As I size him up—and his two pards, too—he'll be afraid to do much more, aboard this ship. He's gone as far as is safe for him. But when you reach San Francisco, then look out. Meanwhile I'll help you keep an eye on him."
 
"Thank you, sir," responded Mr. Adams.
 
Out through the open Bay of Panama swept the California; past several small rocky islands, with some islands ahead on the left or south which were said to be the famous Pearl Islands, where pearls as large as filberts were found . In about an hour stop was made at the equally famous Island of Taboga—the most beautiful place, as seemed to Charley, in the world. It had a white beach; from the beach rose long slopes of green, shaded by bananas, palms, , plantains, oranges, limes—every kind of tropical growth. And these slopes were gayly colored with tiers of peak-roofed huts and houses, in pink and yellow and brown and blue and red. Along the beach were scores of white canoes. The people of Taboga, mostly negroes and mixed breeds, appeared to have nothing to do but loaf about and fish and eat and play. It was a sort of a resort place.
 
At Taboga the California took on fresh water, and on she steamed, for the open sea.
 
Gradually the walls and houses of Panama, and even Ancon Hill, faded from view.
 
The captain came down from the bridge, and approached the little party.
 
"I'll turn over my cabin to you, for sleeping quarters," he announced, rather more than before. "You'll all have to in together, some way, but I'll rig you up a cot. I'll pair off with the first mate."
 
"We can't permit that, sir," answered Mr. Adams, at once. "Not a bit. Any place on deck will do. We slept on deck, to Chagres, and we can do the same here."
 
"No, sir," and the captain decisively. "We're overloaded, and you'll not find a spot vacant. I'll fare very well with the mate. I can use the cabin daytimes, when necessary. You must have done the handsome thing by Crosby, and I'll return the compliment as far as possible. The will have your luggage stowed away, and show you where you belong."
 
So saying, the captain left, not waiting for thanks.
 
The cabin, of course, was airy and convenient, and to occupy it made Charley feel like a personage of importance. Mr. Grigsby chose the cot (which was to be folded away during the day), and insisted on Charley and his father taking the . After arranging their baggage, they might stroll about and inspect the ship.
 
By this time the California was headed well out to sea. Evidently the Pacific Mail Company was wealthy and progressive. The California was much larger and finer than the Georgia, her decks were scrubbed smooth and white, her brass-work highly polished, and everything looked to be in apple-pie order. Her table, too, proved to be better supplied than the table on the Georgia. In a large pen, forward of the wheel-house, surrounding a platform built for the purpose, were confined a quantity of cattle, sheep and , for fresh meat. Every day or so several were . Over the upper deck were stretched shade . Officers and crew were smart and spick and span.
 
But, like the Georgia, the California was too crowded for real comfort. From the steerage, below, to the first cabin or upper deck, the passengers had occupied every kind of quarters; the sea was smooth, so that few were , but the sun beat down from directly overhead, out of a sky almost cloudless, and even under the awnings the heat and moisture were well-nigh unendurable. The gold seekers who clung to their heavy boots and trousers and shorts fairly panted.
 
However, it was a three weeks' voyage, now, and there was no retreat. Anyway, people said that after crossing the Tropic of Cancer, there would be more of a breeze, and the weather would cool off rapidly, the nearer the California got to San Francisco.
 
The majority of the passengers had come across the from the Georgia, and Charley recognized a number of them. The long-nosed man and his two cronies carefully kept away from the Adams party; Charley saw them only occasionally. After all, they were cowards, with guilty consciences.
 
"Charley," said his father, that afternoon while they were together, "what do you think of telling Mr. Grigsby about the mysterious miner we took care of, back home, and his Golden West mining claim? Seems to me Grigsby's a honest man, he's been of great help to us, and while he hasn't asked any questions he must be wondering why our friend Jacobs is hounding us so."
 
"Yes, sir; I think he ought to know," asserted Charley.
 
"All right; we'll tell him to-night. Then he'll understand the situation, and it may save us trouble. Besides, it's only fair. We don't want him to support us ."
 
"No, sir," agreed Charley.
 
So that night, while turning in, in the cabin, Mr. Adams laid the situation before the tall Frémonter. He explained the whole affair, from the beginning to the sailing of the Georgia. And he showed the by the mysterious miner, and the rough and the buckskin bags.
 
Mr. Grigsby thoughtfully nodded.
 
"I see," he , studying the sketch map. "Map's not very clear, though. Might be a map of the American River, out of Sutter's Fort. That's the main overland trail, down from the Sierra, and where the first gold excitement led. Or it might be the Feather, or the Yuba. 'G. H.' of course means 'gold here'; it's the regular sign. Six G. H.'s—one of 'em smudged. Huh! Yep, if I were you I'd try the American River first; but you want to look mighty sharp. It's no great in the gold fields to jump another fellow's claim, and even if you get there ahead that other party's liable to be hot after you to you."
 
"Charley and I'll defend our rights," said Mr. Adams, stanchly.
 
"Well," continued Mr. Grigsby, "if I'm around you can count on me. And there'll be other men who won't be inclined to stand for skullduggery. The diggin's will be put under law and order, after a bit, or else no man's life or property will be safe for a day. But until then, look out, and keep looking out."
 
"We will," assured Mr. Adams, nodding confidently at Charley, who soberly nodded back.
 
"And if I were you," added the Frémonter, "I'd tuck those papers in a safe place. Wouldn't leave them around anywhere. See?"
 
"I've been carrying them on my own person," explained Mr. Adams.
 
"The very place where anybody wanting them by hook or would look first," said the Frémonter.
 
"Humph!" admitted Mr. Adams. "That's probably so." He looked about thoughtfully. "But I don't know of a better place—'twouldn't do to stick them anywhere in the cabin, or the baggage. Here!" he exclaimed, struck with an idea. "What's the matter with Charley! Nobody would suspect that a boy was in charge of valuables. Charley, you take these and tuck them away on you where they'll be safe."
 
"Put them in your shoe—or in your bootleg when you wear boots," instructed Mr. Grigsby.
 
"What about night?" asked Charley.
 
"I'll tend to the nights," grimly said the Frémonter. "You might change them to your pillow, nights, and they wouldn't be any safer and you'd be apt to forget them. But my cot will be across the , nights, and I in it."
 
"Very good," approved Mr. Adams. And so Charley carried the papers in his shoe.
 
For a week the California sped on, over a rolling blue sea, accompanied by the and and the steady of her huge paddle-wheels. On the right, or east, the coastline was at first high and mountainous, but soon became only a bluish line, across the miles of water. The decks were hot, amidst this summer sea! Almost ev............