moon was sailing overhead. The shadows of the hills hung deep in the
hollows; and, abroad, a wide landscape slept in the unearthly radiance.
A thousand thousand cheerful frogs piped up a chorus against the
brooding moon-stillness they could not quite break. After the glare of
the Arcade and the feverish hum and bustle of the busy new city, this
still peace was almost overpowering. I felt, somehow, that I dared not
give way to it all at once, but must admit its influence trickle by
trickle until my spirit had become a little accustomed. Thus gradually I
dropped into a reverie. The toil, excitement, strain, striving of the
past eight or nine months fell swiftly into the background. I relaxed;
and in the calm of the relaxation for the first time old memories found
room.

How long I had tramped, lost in this dreaming, I did not know; but at
some point I must have turned back, for I came to somewhere near the end
of Sacramento Street--if it could be said to have an end--to find the
moon far up toward the zenith. A man overtook me, walking rapidly; I
caught the gleam of a watch chain, and on a sudden impulse I turned
toward him.

"Can you tell me what time it is?" I asked.

The man extended his watch in the moonlight, and silently pointed to its
face--with the muzzle of a revolver!

"Half-past twelve," said he.

"Good Lord!" I cried with a shout of laughter. "Do you take me for a
robber, Talbot?"

CHAPTER XLIII

THE GOLDEN WEB

He thrust away his watch and the pistol and with a shout of joy seized
both my hands.

"Well! well! well! well!" he cried over and over again. "But I _am_
glad to see you! I'd no idea where you were or what you were doing! Why
couldn't you write a man occasionally?"

"I don't know," said I, rather blankly. "I don't believe it ever
occurred to us we _could_ write."

"Where are the others? Are they with you?"

"We'll look them up," said I.

Together we walked away, arm in arm. Talbot had not changed, except that
he had discarded his miner's rig, and was now dressed in a rather quiet
cloth suit, a small soft hat, and a blue flannel shirt. The trousers he
had tucked into the tops of his boots. I thought the loose, neat costume
very becoming to him. After a dozen swift inquiries as to our welfare,
he plunged headlong into enthusiasms as to the town.

"It's the greatest city in the world!" he cried; then catching my
expression, he added, "or it's going to be. Think of it, Frank! A