eer saw-miller, who
brought the first pianos to California.

Where a spring gushed forth and furnished water to the ships, Juan
Fuller had his washhouse. Within a stone's throw was the grist mill of
Daniel Sill where a mule turned, with the frequent interruptions of his
balky temperament, a crude and ponderous treadmill. Grain laden ox-carts
stood along the road before it.

Farther down was Finch's, better known as John the Tinker's bowling
alley; Cooper's groggery, nicknamed "Jack the Sailor's," Vioget's house,
later to be Yerba Buena's first hotel. The new warehouse of William
Leidesdorff stood close to the waterline and, at the head of the plaza,
the customs house built by Indians at the governor's order looked down
on the shipping.

Benito reined his horse as he reached the Plaza where a dozen other
mounts were tethered and left his steed to crop the short grass without
the formality of hitching. He remembered how, nine years ago, Don Jacob
Primer Leese had given a grand ball to celebrate the completion of his
wooden casa, the first of its kind in Yerba Buena. There had been music
and feasting with barbecued meats and the firing of guns to commemorate
the fourth of July which was the birth of Americano independence. Long
ago Leese had moved his quarters farther from the beach and sold his
famous casa to the Hudson's Bay company. Half perfunctorily, young
Windham made his way there, entered and sat down in the big trading room
where sailormen were usually assembled to discourse profanely of the
perils of the sea. Benito liked to hear them and to listen to the
drunken boasts of Factor William Rae, who threatened that his company
would drive all Yankee traders out of California. Sometimes Spear would
be there, sardonically witty, drinking heavily but never befuddled by
his liquor. But today the place was silent, practically deserted so
Benito, after a glass of fiery Scotch liquor with the factor, made his
way into the road again. There a hand fell on his shoulder and Spear's
hearty voice saluted him:

"How fares it at the ranch, Camerado?"

"Moderately," the young man answered, "for my mother waits impatiently
the coming of my father. She is very lonely since my uncle died. Though
Inez tries to comfort her, she, too, is apprehensive. The time set by my
father for home-coming is long past."

"It is the way of women," Spear said gently. "Give them my respects. If
you ride toward home I will accompany you a portion