a few
hardships must be expected, in making a fortune. With the morning
breeze the _Mary Ann_ hoisted in her anchor. All sails set again, she
glided through the slough, and struck the current of the Sacramento.

The Sacramento proved to be a fine, noble stream, flowing 200 and 300
yards wide, with gentle current and plenty of "sea room" around and
under. The banks were heavily timbered clear to the water's edge,
flowers blossomed gaily, and through grassy openings in the timber on
the right were given glimpses of the distant foothills, over-topped by
the blue-misted snow-crests behind them. It certainly looked like a
wonderful country, not only for mining but for farming, also.

The banks appeared mainly deserted, save where squatters, as they were
called, had taken land, cleared it, and had piled up wood to sell.
There was one spot which Mr. Grigsby said was an Indian village, and he
pointed out reed huts. But the most interesting feature was the boats,
most of them going up, a few coming down.

There were two schooners, larger than the _Mary Ann_, but crowded as
full, which, just ahead, tacking back and forth, sometimes were near,
sometimes far. There were also smaller boats, skiffs and scows, full
to the gunwales, their passengers rowing and paddling hard, as if in a
race. In one funny hand-made skiff the men were using boards and even
pans. They scarcely paused to cheer the _Mary Ann_ as she triumphantly
glided past, and her passengers yelled:

"Bye-bye!" "See you later!" "We're bound for the mines. Where are
you going?" "Want a tow?" And so forth, and so forth. Another boat
was a suspiciously built yawl, which looked much like the boat in which
Charley had slept, over the stern of the _California_. It held nine
men, three of them in sailor costumes; and on the bows a name evidently
had been scratched out. Rowing desperately, the men in it barely
glanced up as the _Mary Ann_ passed. They appeared to be anxious to
sheer off.

"Here's a runaway, I'll bet my hat," exclaimed the captain of the _Mary
Ann_, who happened to be standing near the Adams party. "It's a ship's
boat, and those men row like sailors--let alone their clothes. They've
taken French leave, for the mines. It's impossible to hold a crew, in
San Francisco Bay. If they can't steal a boat they'll swim ashore and
make their way on foot."

Now down the river came a broad scow, made of rough planks, and steered
by sweeps. As it p