n, went plumb out into the
middle of the street. Lord! what a yellin' there was inside! Nobody
hurt, but one woman went plumb out'r her mind. They've got her tied to
the bed-post now. And what a lootin' of saloons there was until the
soldiers marched in! Now, I hear, that there mayor has issued an order,
which is to be pasted up all over, that any man caught lootin' anything,
saloons or otherwise, is to be shot dead and no questions asked. Good
job, that. I guess we're in for high old times, miss. I'm makin' for
Oakland, where I live. I brought in a load last evenin' and stopped
over. Some of my friends live down by the ferry, and I'll pick them up,
if they want to get out. Don't you want to come along? My wife and me'll
be glad to put you up if you can't do any better."

Isabel thanked him warmly, and assured him that she would be safe in any
case, then discovered a loose half-dollar in the pocket of her jacket.
The man accepted it philosophically.

"You were welcome to the ride, but I'm not the one to say nay to a bit
of silver so long as you say you're not hard up yourself. Guess it'll
come in handy. Well, s'long. Good luck to you. I've enjoyed your society
very much."

XII

The teamster had deposited her at Taylor and Jackson streets, and as she
passed the Trennahans' door it occurred to her to ask how they fared.
The house appeared to be uninjured, but the electric bell was useless,
and it was not until she had knocked several times that an old Mexican
servant answered the summons. Then she learned that the family had left
for Menlo Park in their touring car immediately after the earthquake, as
the boys were at the country-house with their tutor. The woman had been
maid for many years to Mrs. Polk and had lived with Magdalena since her
aunt's death. She was a privileged character, and during Isabel's visit
had accepted her relationship to the house of Yorba and waited on her
personally.

"So tired you look," she said. "Come in, no?" Then, as the invitation
was declined, she leaned her stout shapeless figure against the
door-frame and begged Isabel for an account of her experience. Isabel
gave it briefly, and the old woman shook her head. "So terreeblay
thing!" she sighed. "Seventy years I live in California and this the
more bad earthquake I never feel. My mother she feel the great
earthquake of 1812 in the south, when the padres plant a long straight
branch in the middle of the square of San Gabriel,