An hour later Grant was surprised to come across Tom sawing and splitting wood in front of a restaurant.

“What are you doing, Tom?” he asked, in surprise.

“Earning some money,” answered Tom complacently.

“How much will you get for the job?” asked Grant.

“Three dollars and my dinner. It won’t take me more than three hours to finish up the job. What do you think of that?”

“I’d like a job like it. I’m getting alarmed at the high prices here in Sacramento. I don’t know what I am going to do.”

“How much have you got left?”

“Only nine dollars, and it will cost me that to get to the nearest mines.”

“That’s bad!” said Tom, looking perplexed. “Perhaps father’ll lend you some.”

Grant shook his head.

“I don’t want to borrow of him,” he said. “He will have all he can do to look out for himself and your mother.”

“I don’t know but he will.”

“I guess I’ll get along somehow,” said Grant, with assumed cheerfulness.

“If I can help you, Grant, I will; but it isn’t like being out on the plains. It didn’t cost so much there for living.”

At this point a stout man came to the door of the restaurant. It was the proprietor.

“How are you getting on with the wood?” he asked Tom.

“Pretty well.”

“Whenever you want your dinner you can stop short and come in.”

“Thank you. I took a late breakfast, and will finish the job first.”

“Who is the boy—your brother?”

“No; it’s a friend of mine.”

“Do you want a job?” asked the proprietor, turning to Grant.

“Yes, if it’s anything I can do.”

“One of my waiters has left me and gone to the mines. The rascal left without notice, and I am short-handed. Did you ever wait in a restaurant?”

“No, sir.”

“Never mind, you’ll soon learn. Will you take the job?”

“How much do you pay?”

“Three dollars a day and board.”

“I’ll take it,” said Grant promptly.

“Come right in, then.”

Grant followed his new employer into the Eldorado restaurant, and received instructions. It may seem easy enough to wait on guests at an eating-house, but, like everything else, an apprenticeship is needful. Here, however, it was easier than in a New York or Chicago restaurant, as the bill of fare was limited, and neither the memory nor the hands were taxed as severely as would have been the case elsewhere. Grant was supplied with an apron, and began work at once. When Tom got through his job, and came in for dinner it was Grant who waited upon him.

Tom smiled.

“It seems queer to have you waiting upon me, Grant,” he said. “How do you like it as far as you’ve got?”

“There’s other things I would like better, Tom, but I think I’m lucky to get this.”

“Yes; yours is a more permanent job than mine. I’m through.”

“Just tell your father and mother where I am,” said Grant. “I hear I’m to sleep in the restaurant.”

“That’ll save the expense of a bed. How long do you think you’ll keep at it, Grant?”

“A month, perhaps, if I suit well enough. By that time I’ll have money enough to go to the mines.”

“Then you haven’t given that up?”

“No; I came out to California to dig gold, and I shan’t be satisfied till I get at it.”

When meal hours were over that afternoon Grant started out for a stroll through the town. As he was passing the Morning Star saloon a rough, bearded fellow, already under the influence of liquor, seized him by the arm.

“Come in, boy, and have a drink,” he said.

Grant shrank from him with a repugnance he could not conceal.

“No, thank you!” he answered. “I don’t drink.”

“But you’ve got to drink,” hiccoughed his new acquaintance.

In reply Grant tried to tear himself away, but he could not release the strong grip the man had on his coat-sleeve.

“Come along, boy; it’s no use. Do you want to insult me?”

“No, I don’t,” said Grant; “but I never drink.”

“Are you a temperance sneak?” was the next question. “Don’t make no difference. When Bill Turner wants you to drink, you must drink—or fight. Want to fight?”

“No.”

“Then come in.”

Against his will Grant was dragged into the saloon, where half a dozen fellows were leaning against the bar.