arshall's mill on the south fork of the
American River. Little credence had been given his announcements. In the
south, near San Fernando Mission, gold had long ago been found, but not
in sufficient quantities to allure the fortune hunter.

"See, is it not pretty?" asked Benito, pouring out a handful of the
shining stuff which he had purchased from the teamster.

"Pretty, yes, but what's it worth?" asked Adrian, dubiously.

"Some say it's true value is $16 for an ounce," responded Inez, her eyes
shining. "Samuel Brannan had a letter from a member of his band who says
they wash it from the river sand in pans."

"Sam's skeptical, though," retorted Stanley. "And, as for me, I've a
mine right here in San Francisco." He spoke enthusiastically. "Moving
sandhills into the bay. Making a new city front out of flooded bogs!
That's realism. Romance. And what's better, fortune! Isn't it, my girl?"

Inez' eyes were proud. "Fortune, yes, and not a selfish one. For it is
making others richer, San Francisco better."

"Which is well enough for you," returned Benito with a hint of
sullenness. "But I am tired of clerking for Ward & Smith at two dollars
a day. There's no romance in that." With a quick, restless motion he ran
the golden dust through his fingers again. "I hope they are true, these
stories. And if they are--" he looked at the others challengingly, "then
I'm off to the mines, muy pronto."

"Come," said Stanley, "let us have a game of chess together." But
Benito, with a muttered apology, left them and went out. San Francisco
had streets now, since the O'Farrell survey's adoption by the council.
The old Calle de Fundacion had become Dupont street and below it was
Kearny street, named after the General and former Governor. To the west
were parallel roads, scarcely worthy of the name of thoroughfares,
christened in honor of Commodore Stockton, Surgeon Powell of the
sloop-of-war Warren, Dr. Elbert Jones, Governor Mason, Chaplain
Leavenworth, the present Alcalde, and George Hyde, the former one.
Thomas Larkin, former counsel at Monterey, was also to be distinguished.
East and west the streets had more haphazard names. Broadway and
California were the widest, aside from the projected Market street,
which would have a lordly breadth of 120 feet. Some were named after
Presidents--Jackson, Washington and Clay.

The council had authorized two long wharves, one at the foot of Clay
street, 547 feet long. This was a great undertakin