"Heaven help me if I can't meet the next interest!" said Mark Nelson, later in the day, to his wife.
"Don't be too much troubled about the future, Mark," said his wife, who was of a more hopeful temperament than her husband; "I am sure that you will get some help from Tom before six months are over."
"I hope so," answered her husband; but for the rest of the day he was very grave.
Walter drove over Whiteface, at his father's request; but he came near crying, stout boy as he was, at the loss of the faithful animal which his father had reared from a calf.
After his escape from the grizzly Tom had no further adventures of an exciting character. One afternoon he and his companions arrived at Sacramento. It was but a small settlement, but was more town-like than any place they had yet seen in California. They drove to a two-story frame building, which was the chief hotel in the town. Taking the precaution to inquire the price of board and lodging, they were dismayed by the extravagance of the charges. Tom saw that his reserve fund of twenty dollars would scarcely last him forty-eight hours.
"I can't stay here, Mr. Ferguson," he said. "I will take my chances and camp out, if necessary."
"I agree with you, lad; I'm not inclined to waste my substance on luxurious living."
"There won't be much luxurious living, I guess," said Ebenezer Onthank, who, with Yankee curiosity, had already visited the kitchen and obtained some idea of the fare to be expected. "I kin get better board at Green Mountain Mills for three dollars a week, and folks are darned glad to accommodate you for that price. These chaps seem to think and act as if we were made of money."
"I wish some of your Green Mountain Mills boarding-houses were here," said Tom. "I could save plenty of money then."
"Well, gentlemen, do you want to stay here?" inquired the landlord.
"We'd like to, squire, but not bein' millionaires I guess we'll have to put it off till times are better."
"Just as you say," said the landlord, indifferently. "There's others waiting for the only room I have empty." Then, noticing for the first time the express wagon which Tom had left outside, he asked, in a tone of interest, "Who owns that team?"
"It belongs to this boy and myself," answered Ferguson.