e vast
Pacific Ocean.

Ere the travellers could find words to express their feelings, a rock,
with a piece of stick and a small rag attached to it, attracted their
attention.

"We are not the first who have set their feet here, it seems," said Ned,
pointing to the signal.

"Strange!" muttered Tom Collins, as they turned towards the rock; "that
does not look like an Indian mark; yet I would have thought that white
men had never stood here before, for the spot is far removed from any
known diggings, and, as we know fail well, is not easily reached."

On gaining the rock, they found that the rag was a shred of linen,
without mark of any kind to tell who had placed it there.

"It must have been the freak of some Indian hunter," said Ned, examining
the rock on which the little flag-staff was raised. "Stay--no--here are
some marks cut in the stone! Look here, Tom, can you decipher this? It
looks like the letter D--DB."

"DB?" cried Tom Collins, with a degree of energy that surprised his
friend. "Let me see!"

Tom carefully removed the moss, and cleared out the letters, which were
unmistakeable.

"Who can DB have been?" said Ned.

Tom looked up with a flushed countenance and a glittering eye, as he
exclaimed--

"Who? Who but Daniel Boone, Cooper's great hero--Hawk-eye, of the `Last
of the Mohicans'--Deer-slayer--Leather-stocking! _He_ has been here
before us--ay, brave spirit! Long before other hunters had dared to
venture far into the territory of the scalping, torturing, yelling
red-skin, this bold heart had pushed westward, fearless and alone, until
his eagle eye rested on the great Pacific. It _must_ have been he. I
have followed him, Ned, in spirit, throughout all his wild career, for I
knew him to be a _real_ man, and no fiction; but little did I think that
I should see a spot where his manly foot had rested, or live to discover
his _farthest step_ in the `far west!'"

Ned Sinton listened with interest to the words of his friend, but he did
not interrupt him, for he respected the deep emotions that swelled his
heart and beamed from his flashing eye.

"We spoke, Ned, sometime ago, of historical associations," continued
Tom,--"here are historical associations worth coming all this way to
call up. Here are associations that touch _my_ heart more than all the
deeds of ancient chivalry. Ah! Daniel Boone, little didst thou think
when thy hawk's eye rested here, that in a few short years the land
wo