“You’ll never regret it,” said the other.  “Not only are the stories about an abundance of gold authentic, but I have good reasons for believing that the half has not been told.  I talked with a man last night, who says that he knew of several instances where lumps of the precious metal, weighing several pounds, have been picked up.  One man collected ten thousand dollars worth of lumps of pure gold in a week.”

“That’s a large story,” replied Andrew, smiling.

“Perhaps so; but it is not all a fabrication.  At any rate, I am off to this region, and my advice to you is, to join our little party.”

“When do you start?

“To-morrow morning.”

“I’ll think about it,” said Andrew Howland.

“You must think quickly,” was answered.  “There is no time to spare.  It is but two hours to nightfall; and we are to be in the saddle by sunrise.  So, if you conclude to join our party you have but small space left for preparation.”

Andrew stood with his eyes upon the ground for nearly a minute; then looking up, he said, in a firm voice—­

“I will go.”

“And, my word for it, you’ll never repent the decision.  Gathering up lumps of gold by the peck is a quicker way to fortune than dragooning it at five dollars a month—­ha?”

“My anticipations lie within a much narrower circle than yours,” was quietly answered to this; “but one thing is certain, if gold is to be had in California for the mere digging, you may depend on Andrew Howland getting his share of the treasure.”

“That’s the spirit, my boy!” said the other, clapping him on the shoulder—­“the very spirit of every member of our little party.  And if we don’t line our pockets with the precious stuff, it will be because none is to be found.”

On the next morning, Andrew Howland started on his long and perilous journey for the region of gold, with a new impulse in his heart, and a hope in the future, such as, up to this time, he had never known.  But it was not a mere selfish love of gold that was influencing him.  He was acted on by a nobler feeling.

CHAPTER XII.

From the shock of his son’s failure, Mr. Howland did not recover.  In arranging with his own creditors, he had arranged to do too much, and consequently his reduced business went on under pressure of serious embarrassment.  He had sold his house, and two other pieces of property, and was living at a very moderate expense; but all this did not avail, and he saw the steady approaches of total ruin.

One day, at a time when this conviction was pressing most heavily upon him, one of the creditors of Edward, who had lost a good deal by the young man, came into the store, and asked if he had heard lately from his son.

Mr. Howland replied he had not.

“He’s in Mobile, I understand?” said the gentleman.

“I believe he is,” returned Mr. Howland.