d Charley.

"Well," said Mr. Grigsby, "gold may be loose in the dirt, or held in
rock. The first is a placer, the other is a vein or lode. Nearly all
the mining out here is placer mining, where the dirt is dug out and
washed away, leaving the gold. But of course the gold in the placer
beds must have come out of a vein somewhere above. It doesn't grow
like grass. 'Cording to the scientific idee it was melted into the
rock, first, like into quartz, and then was worn away by the weather
and carried into the dirt. I don't fancy breaking up rock, to get
gold, when in a placer it's already been broken for you. But they say
quartz mining can be made to pay well, if you have the proper
machinery. As like as not this man 'Tom' was waiting for machinery."

"Tom." Tom who? And what was his nephew's name? And did his nephew
know about the mine? And was he out here looking for it? These and
other questions Charley kept putting to himself, because nobody could
answer them for him. The main thing now, anyway, was to get off, to
the "diggin's."

They paid their bill, shouldered their baggage, and wearing their
complete miner's costumes (Charley sporting his knife and his belt)
they proceeded down to Long Wharf and the _Mary Ann_. On their way
they collected their washing from the bowing Frenchman.

Long Wharf was the principal wharf, where they had climbed the stairs
when landing from the _California_, and was at the foot of Clay Street,
just beyond Montgomery, only a few blocks from the plaza of Portsmouth
Square. The tide was half in, partially covering the ugly mud-flats,
and extending all around the wharf.

Considerable of a crowd had collected, on the wharf. They were in
flannel shirts and boots and coarse trousers belted about with pistol
and knife, and were laden with baggage rolls. Evidently they, too,
were off to the mines; perhaps by the _Mary Ann_.

"That must be the schooner, out yonder--I can see _Mary Ann_ on her
stern," spoke Mr. Grigsby. "And I reckon that's her boat coming in."

"I'll get you out quicker'n that, stranger, if you're for the _Mary
Ann_," cut in an alert by-stander. "Five dollars for the trip; safety
guaranteed."

"Not to-day," smiled Mr. Grigsby.

A skiff was being pulled in, from a schooner anchored out a short
distance. At a nod from Mr. Grigsby, Charley and his father pressed
forward with him, to meet the boat at the foot of the long stairs.
Yes, it was from the _Mary A