dy."

[Illustration: Passersby who laughed at the inscription witnessed
simultaneously the rescue of an almost-submerged donkey by means of an
improvised derrick.]

The affair of The Hounds was already past history when the gold-seekers,
hunted from the heights by early snows, returned to San Francisco in
great numbers. Sara Roberts and his evil band had been deported.
Better government obtained but there were many other civic problems
still unsolved. San Francisco, now a hectic, riotous metropolis of
25,000 inhabitants, was like a muddy Venice, for heavy rains had made
its unpaved streets canals of oozy mud. At Clay and Kearny streets, in
the heart of the business district, some wag had placed a
placard reading:

THIS STREET IS IMPASSABLE
NOT EVEN JACKASSABLE

In which there was both truth and poetry. Passersby who laughed at the
inscription witnessed simultaneously the rescue of an almost-submerged
donkey by means of an improvised derrick.

* * * * *

Benito was showing his friend David Broderick, a recent arrival from New
York, some of San Francisco's sights. "Everything is being used to
bridge the crossings," said the former laughingly ... "stuff that came
from those deserted ships out in the bay. Their masts are like a
forest--hundreds of them."

"You mean their crew deserted during the gold rush?" Broderick inquired.

"Yes, even the skippers and officers in many cases.... See, here is a
cargo of sieves with which some poor misguided trader overwhelmed the
market. They make a fair crossing, planted in the mud. And there are
stepping stones of tobacco boxes--never been opened, mind you--barrels
of tainted pork and beef. On Montgomery street is a row of cook stoves
which make a fine sidewalk, though, sometimes the mud covers them."

"And what are those two brigs doing stranded in the mud?" asked
Broderick.

"Oh, those are the Euphemia and Apollo. They use the first one for a
jail. That's Geary's scheme. He's full of business. And the second's a
tavern.... Let's go up to the new post-office. Alice is always eager
for a letter from her folks in Massachusetts."

They made their way to the new wooden structure at Clay and Pike streets
where several clerks were busily sorting the semi-weekly mail which had
just arrived. Hundreds of people stood in long queues before each of the
windows. "Get in line stranger," said a red-shirted man laughingly.
"Only seventy-five a