lerk. "They'll not be touched.
Not a door in this hotel has a lock. Thieves are given short shift in
San Francisco, and they know it. You can leave a bucket of gold out in
the street and it'll all be there when you want it again."

"Beg your pardon, gentlemen," spoke a voice near at hand, "but I see
you're carrying a newspaper or two. Would you sell them?"

He was a brusque, bearded man, in miner costume, but he spoke like a
person of education.

"I'll give you a dollar apiece," cried another man, hurrying forward;
and almost immediately the three in the Adams party were surrounded by
a crowd.

"Wait a minute," bade the first man. "I was here first. I'll give you
a dollar apiece."

Charley gasped. Were they crazy?

"But, gentlemen, these are only some old papers we happened to have as
fillers," protested Mr. Adams, as much astonished as Charley.

"How many have you got?" demanded the second speaker.

"Probably a dozen."

"Where from?"

"St. Louis; two or three from New York, maybe."

"I'll give you eight dollars for the lot."

"Give you nine," bid somebody else.

"But they're six weeks old, gentlemen," informed Mr. Adams.

"Only six weeks old?" queried the first man. "I'll give you ten
dollars for a dozen! And here's your money." He held out a ten-dollar
gold piece.

"Go up and get the other papers, Charley," directed Mr. Adams. "If
these men are crazy it isn't our fault. When you see the papers, if
you don't want them you needn't take them, sir," he said to the man.

"I'll take them," laughed the man, grimly. "Papers only six weeks old?
Why, stranger, that's fresh news out here. You can sell a thousand at
a dollar apiece."

"Wish I had them, then," remarked Mr. Adams. And Charley scuttled
away. He brought back all the crumpled papers that he could find.
They sold every one--the first lot at ten dollars for a dozen, and the
three more, in which the washing was wrapped, at dollar apiece on
delivery later!

"This will pay for our washing, at least," commented Mr. Adams. "Is
there a laundry near here?" he asked, of the clerk.

"Right around the corner."

"Thank you."

They went out--Charley sighing as he thought of the big stack of old
newspapers, back home. Why, they might have brought out a hundred
more! What a queer town this was, where people would pay a dollar
apiece for old papers! He resolved to write to his mother the first
thing, and tell her when _she_ came out to