Coloma, near to the Sutter's saw-mill, was about thirty miles on east, up the trail. The trail did not always keep to the American, but from it. However, streams flowing into the American were crossed, and ever the trail waxed more interesting. Several new towns were passed—one, called the Mormon Diggings, was inhabited largely by Mormons from Salt Lake. Here mining was in full blast, with many improved methods, as by "cradles," which were boxes set upon rockers and rocked like a cradle so that the water and sand were flowed out as from a pan; and by long boxes called "Long Toms," set on an incline so that when the water and dirt were flowed down them, their cleats, nailed across the bottom on the inside, caught and held the heavy sand and gold. Then the cleats were cleaned and the gold separated. As further into the foothills the trail led, the more numerous were the miners; and when the first of the mountains were entered, every and ravine held its busy population.  
Now the mountains, high and thickly timbered, clustered before and on either side, when, on the afternoon of the second day (for Mr. Adams traveled slowly on account of his leg), Mr. Grigsby, ahead, and said:
 
"There's the saw-mill."
 
So it was—a large frame building, not all completed, amidst a clearing of , on the edge of a ravine near the foot of a slope. Several log cabins and a number of tents stood near it; and and tents dotted the gullies around. But, as Captain Sutter had said, the mill was not running; and as the red-whiskered man had , the locality was not .
 
"I expect the place has been all worked out, by the first rush," commented Mr. Grigsby, as he led on, up the well-marked trail.
 
"This is where the gold was discovered in Forty-eight, is it?" Charley's father, as on the edge of the clearing they paused, to take breath, and gaze about them.
 
"Yes, sir; and unless I'm much mistaken, there's Jim Marshall himself, in front of that cabin."
 
So saying, followed by his party the Frémonter crossed the clearing, as if making for one of the cabins before whose open door a man was sitting, on a stool. The man appeared scarcely to notice their approach, and barely turned his head when, halting, Mr. Grigsby addressed him.
 
"How are you, Jim? I met you down at Sutter's, after the war. My name's Grigsby."
 
"Yes, I remember your being 'round there," responded Mr. Marshall, in a soft, slow drawl, rising to shake hands. "The country wasn't so full, then."
 
He was a rather tall, well-built man, with long brown beard and slouch hat. He had wide brown eyes, with a sombre gaze in them. In fact, his whole was sober and a bit .
 
"So you're still at the mill."
 
"I have been, but I'm going out. There's no place for me here. The man who discovered this gold ain't given an ounce of it," and Mr. Marshall's voice was bitter. "What did I get for all I did when I opened that mill-race? Nothing; not even . It's Government land, they say, and so the people flock in and take it, and my only chance is to like everybody else. Do you think that's fair? No, sir! If I had my percentage of all the gold being mined around here I'd be a rich man. Instead, they give me a hundred feet, and expect me to dig like the rest. Bah! I'll starve, first."
 
Although Mr. Marshall was trying to make this a tale of , Charley, for one, could not quite see the reasonableness in it.
 
"Well, Jim," hastily Mr. Grigsby, "this is a country of , and most of us have to look out for ourselves. You were here first, and I suppose people figured on your making the most of opportunity. Anyway, I wish you'd take us over to the mill-race and show these two partners of mine just where you discovered the gold. We aren't going to stay, but we'd like to see that much."
 
"Yes, I can do that," Mr. Marshall. "Leave your animal here, if you want to. There aren't many white people about" (and he bitterly, again) "to steal it."
 
Charley tied the burro to the cabin. Mr. Marshall led the way over to the mill, which was abandoned and idle, and paused on the of a wide ravine that extended back to the mill wheel.
 
The ravine was and torn, its bottom bare to the rocks and its sides by holes. A number of Chinamen and Indians were working in it, scraping about and filling pans and wicker baskets with loose dirt, which they washed in the stream through. But there were no white men.
 
"That was the tail-race," explained Mr. Marshall, "which led off the water after it had passed under the wheel. After we got the mill to going, about the middle of January, last year, we found the tail-race wasn't big enough to carry off the water fast and make a current that would turn the wheel. So I threw the wheel out of gear, one night, and lifted the head-gate of the race full open, to flow a hard stream through and wash the tail-race deeper. Next morning early, which was January 24, I went down with Weimer (you know Weimer, Mr. Grigsby; he served in the Frémont during the conquest), who was me, to see what the water had done. We shut it off first, of course, above. Well, the tail-race certainly had been a good bit, and we were looking in, as we walked, congratulating ourselves on the job, when I saw a sparkle of yellow on a flat bed-rock. I went down in and picked it up, and I was sure it was gold. I sent an Indian back to the men's cabin for a tin plate. I didn't want to say much about the find till I'd made certain that it wasn't , but during the day Weimer and I searched about and found a little more. We tried it out with potash in Mrs. Weimer's soap kettle, and it didn't . The other men got excited, and the next day started to about on their own account, in the rain. I took what I had down to the fort, and the captain and I locked ourselves in and tested it with nitric acid, weighed it, pounded it, did everything we could think of, and made dead certain that gold it was. Next day the captain himself came up ............