out of the
room, passed my door, and went stealthily down the staircase.
Convinced of this, I resolved not to call public attention to my being
in my own room at the time of the incident; so I did not summon any one,
but, redoubling my efforts, I at last opened the door sufficiently to
pass out, and at once joined the other guests in the garden. Already,
with characteristic recklessness and audacity, the earthquake was
made light of; the only dictate of prudence had resolved itself into
a hilarious proposal to "camp out" in the woods all night, and have
a "torch-light picnic." Even then preparations were being made for
carrying tents, blankets, and pillows to the adjacent redwoods; dinner
and supper, cooked at campfires, were to be served there on stumps of
trees and fallen logs. The convulsion of nature had been used as an
excuse for one of the wildest freaks of extravagance that Carquinez
Springs had ever known. Perhaps that quick sense of humor which
dominates the American male in exigencies of this kind kept the
extravagances from being merely bizarre and grotesque, and it was
presently known that the hotel and its menage were to be appropriately
burlesqued by some of the guests, who, attired as Indians, would
personate the staff, from the oracular hotel proprietor himself down to
the smart hotel clerk.
During these arrangements I had a chance of drawing near Mrs. Saltillo.
I fancied she gave a slight start as she recognized me; but her
greetings were given with her usual precision. "Have you been here
long?" she asked.
"I have only just come," I replied laughingly; "in time for the shock."
"Ah, you felt it, then? I was telling these ladies that our eminent
geologist, Professor Dobbs, assured me that these seismic disturbances
in California have a very remote centre, and are seldom serious."
"It must be very satisfactory to have the support of geology at such a
moment," I could not help saying, though I had not the slightest idea
whose the figure was that I had seen, nor, indeed, had I recognized
it among the guests. She did not seem to detect any significance in
my speech, and I added: "And where is Enriquez? He would enjoy this
proposed picnic to-night."
"Enriquez is at Salvatierra Rancho, which he lately bought from his
cousin."
"And the baby? Surely, here is a chance for you to hang him up on a
redwood tonight, in his cradle."
"The boy," said Mrs. Saltillo quickly, "is no longer in his cradle;
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