s befell Captain Bunting, and many
hundreds of others--the crew deserted to the mines. Thereupon the
captain and young Collins also betook themselves to the gold-fields,
leaving the ship to swing idly at her anchor. Like most of the first
arrivals at the mines, Collins was very successful, and would soon--in
diggers' parlance--have "made his pile,"--i.e. his fortune, had not
scurvy attacked and almost killed him; compelling him to return to San
Francisco in search of fresh vegetables and medicine, neither of which,
at that time, could be obtained at the mines for love or money. He
recovered slowly; but living in San Francisco was so expensive that, ere
his health was sufficiently recruited to enable him to return to the
gold-fields, his funds were well-nigh exhausted. In order to recruit
them he went, in an evil hour, to the gaming-saloons, and soon became an
inveterate gambler.

In the providence of God he had been led, some years before, to become
an abstainer from all intoxicating drinks, and, remaining firm to his
pledge throughout the course of his downward career, was thus saved from
the rapid destruction which too frequently overtook those who to the
exciting influences of gambling added the maddening stimulus of alcohol.
But the constant mental fever under which he laboured was beginning to
undermine a naturally-robust constitution, and to unstring the nerves of
a well-made, powerful frame. Sometimes, when fortune favoured him, he
became suddenly possessor of a large sum of money, which he squandered
in reckless gaiety, often, however, following the dictates of an
amiable, sympathetic disposition, he gave the most of it away to
companions and acquaintances in distress. At other times he had not
wherewith to pay for his dinner, in which case he took the first job
that offered in order to procure a few dollars. Being strong and
active, he frequently went down to the quays and offered his services as
a porter to any of the gold-hunters who were arriving in shoals from all
parts of the world. It was thus, as we have seen, that he first met
with Ned Sinton and his friends.

All this, and a great deal more, did Ned worm out of his companion in
the course of half-an-hour's stroll in the Plaza.

"Now," said he, when Collins had finished, "I'm going to make a proposal
to you. I feel very much interested in all that you have told me; to be
candid with you, I like your looks, and I like your voice--in fact, I
l