rk volunteers," replied her husband.
"They've been recruited for the past year for service in California.
Colonel Stevenson, the commander, is a most distinguished man. The
president himself made him an offer of command if he could raise a
regiment of California volunteers." Windham smiled. "I believe it is
for colonization rather than actual military duty that they've been sent
out here ... three shiploads of them with two doctors and a chaplain."

As they picked their way along a narrow footpath toward the beach, the
portly Leidesdorff advanced to greet them. "Would that I had a cloak of
velvet," he said gallantly, "so that I might lay it in the mire at your
feet, fair lady." Anita Windham flashed a smile at him. "Like the
chivalrous Don Walter Raleigh," she responded. "Ah, but I am not a Queen
Elizabeth. Nor is this London." She regarded with a shrug of distaste
the stretch of mud-flats reaching to the tide-line, rubbish--littered
and unfragrant. Knee-deep in its mire, bare-legged Indians and booted
men drove piles for the superstructure of a new pier.

Lieutenant Bryant joined them, brisk and natty in his naval garb. He was
the new alcalde, Bartlett having been displaced and ordered to
rejoin his ship.

"No, it's not London," he took up Anita's statement, "but it's going to
be a better San Francisco if I have my way. We'll fill that bog with
sand and lay out streets between Fort Montgomery and the Rincon, if the
governor'll cede the tide-flats to the town. Jasper O'Farrell is
making a map."

"See, they are landing," cried the Dona Windham, clapping her hands.

A boat put off amid hails from the shore. Soon four officers and a
boat's crew stood upon the landing pier and gazed about them curiously.

"That's Colonel Stevenson," said Bryant, nodding toward the leader. On
the verge of fifty, statesmanlike of mien and manner, stood the man who
had recruited the first volunteer company which came around The Horn. He
fingered his sword a bit awkwardly, as though unused to military dress
formalities. But his eyes were keen and eager and commanding.

More boats put off from the anchored vessel. By and by the parade
began, led by Captain Stevenson. It was a straggling military formation
that toiled up-hill through the sand toward Portsmouth Square. These men
were from the byways and hedges of life. Some of them had shifty eyes
and some bold, predatory glances which forebode nothing good for San
Francisco's peace. Advent