o set 'em up across the street,
let alone go to 'Frisco."

For answer Curtis pulled out a wallet, drew therefrom a roll of bills
that amounted to about $1,000, divided the pile into two halves, laid
them on the table and indicated them with his forefinger.

"John," he offered, "if you'll come with me you can put one of those
piles in your pocket. What do you say?"

Inasmuch as I had had previously little opportunity to really explore
San Francisco, the idea appealed to me and we shook hands on the
bargain. Christmas morning, fine, cloudless and warm, found us seated on
the San Jose stage. San Jose then was nearly as large a place as Tucson
is now--about twenty odd thousand, if I remember rightly. The stage
route carried us through the mission country now so widely exploited by
the railroads. Santa Barbara, San Luis Obispo and Monterey were all
towns on the way, Monterey being probably the largest. The country was
very thinly occupied, chiefly by Spanish haciendas that had been in the
country long before gold was discovered. The few and powerful owners of
these estates controlled practically the entire beautiful State of
California prior to '49, and at the time I write of still retained a
goodly portion of it. They grew rich and powerful, for their lands were
either taken by right of conquest or by grants from the original Mexican
government, and they paid no wages to their peons. These Spaniards, with
the priests, however, are to be credited with whatever progress
civilization made in the early days of California. They built the first
passable roads, they completed rough surveys and they first discovered
the wonderful fertility of the California soils. The towns they built
were built solidly, with an eye to the future ravages of earthquakes and
of Time, which is something the modern builder often does not do. There
are in many of their pueblos old houses built by the Spaniards in the
middle part of the eighteenth century which are still used and occupied.

We arrived in San Francisco a few days after our departure from Los
Angeles, and before long the city had done to us what she still does to
so many--had broken us on her fickle wheel of fortune. It wasn't many
days before we found ourselves, our "good time" a thing of the past, "up
against it."

"John," said Curtis, finally, "we're broke. We can't get no work.
What'll we do?"

I thought a minute and then suggested the only alternative I could think
of. "Let's g