n, they
had sneaked away during the night.

The one wharf toward which the boat seemed to be making was crowded
with people and piled high with baggage. Every inch appeared
occupied--and now another difficulty presented. The tide was out, for
the water ended a quarter of a mile from the shore! The boat
sluggishly stopped.

"Here you are," said one of the boatmen. "Tumble out."

"What do you mean?" demanded Mr. Adams. "We've paid you two dollars
each to take us ashore. You don't expect us to walk through this mud,
do you?"

"Walk or fly. This is shore, as you can see for yourself. Boats don't
travel on stilts, in this country."

Other boats also were being stuck, and many of the passengers were
already wading knee-deep in ooze, for the dry land.

"An outrage!" exclaimed Mr. Adams.

"We can't control the tides, stranger, even in California," spoke the
other boatman. "We can leave you here and come again in about four
hours and take you the rest of the way for two dollars more. Tide'll
be turned by that time."

"What'll you charge to carry us in from here, now?" asked Mr. Grigsby.

"Five dollars apiece for self and baggage."

"Come on, Charley," bade Mr. Adams. "Off with your boots and
stockings. We can do as the rest do."

"That's the talk," approved Mr. Grigsby.

Barefooted, trousers rolled high, out they stepped, and lugging their
bed rolls and other hand baggage, stumped for the shore.

"Five dollars apiece!" muttered Mr. Grigsby. "Money must be mighty
cheap out here."

"If that's a sample of prices, the quicker Charley and I get out of
town, the better," answered Mr. Adams. "Eh, Charley?"

All along the stretch of tide-flats passengers from the _California_
were wading ashore. The women were being carried pickaback--and
screamed when their helpers stumbled. It was a comical sight, for
several men already had tripped and fallen, and were a mass of mud.

A number of men and boys were digging in the mud for clams. One man
they passed had such an odd appearance that Charley turned and stared
back at him. He was of a strange yellow complexion, his eyes were set
slantwise, he wore a short, loose, bluish frock with wide sleeves, and
a round little hat, and down his back hung a long pig-tail.

"There's a queer sort of Injun," remarked Mr. Grigsby. "Some sort of a
Sandwich Islander, I reckon."

"No; that's a Chinese--a Chinaman they call him in New Orleans," said
Mr. Adams. "I've see