1ink Saves You Money on Printer Ink! 1 Ink Don't pay a fortune for printer ink. Save with 1ink! Free Shipping Available. [1]Learn More [2]1 Ink [3][af8O7UaR3Yf6D9dtVmKinvVvjiKydtOiOKyjtvnVndsjmWhFmjjVnYOL0Mjhb43] 1ink Saves You Money on Printer Ink! "Look, Roberto," exclaimed Senora Windham as they cantered into San Francisco one morning. "A ship all gay with banners! See the townsfolk are excited. They rush to the Embarcadero. The band plays. It must be the festival of some Americano patron saint." "It is the long expected New York 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. Adventurers for the most part, lured to this new land, some by the wander spirit, others by a wish to free themselves from the restraints of law. Certain of them were to die upon the gallows; others were to be the proud and honored citizens of a raw, potential metropolis. They talked loudly, vehemently, to one another as they marched like school boys seeing strange sights, pointing eagerly at all that aroused their interest. The officers marched more stiffly as though conscious of official noblesse oblige. "I wish that Inez might have seen it," Mrs. Windham said a little wistfully. "But she must help the Indian seamstress with her gown for the dance. Don Adrian is to be there." "He has decided that there are other ways of serving God than in the pulpit," remarked Stanley. "They talk of making him the master of the school ... if our committee can ever decide on a location and what's to pay for it." * * * * * In the full regimentals of his rank, Colonel Stevenson graced Leidesdorff's ballroom that evening, cordially exchanging smiles and bows with San Francisco's citizenry. Besides him was his quartermaster, Captain Joseph Folsom who, though less than thirty, had seen active service in a Florida campaign against the Seminoles. He held himself slightly aloof with the class consciousness of the West Pointer. Nearby stood a lanky surgeon of the volunteers discussing antiseptics with Dr. Jones. Leidesdorff was everywhere, pathetically eager to please, an ecstatic, perspiring figure, making innumerable inquiries as to the comfort of his guests. "He's like a mother hen worried over a brood of new chicks," said Brannan to Jasper O'Farrell. "And a damned fine little man," the Irishman answered. "Oh--I beg your pardon, Senorita." Inez Windham smiled forgiveness, nodding when he asked her for a dance. "Tell me," she asked eagerly, "of the grand new map you make for San Francisco." "Ah," O'Farrell said, "they laugh at it because I have to change Vioget's acute and obtuse angles. They call it 'O'Farrell's Swing.' You see, I've had to change the direction of some streets. There are many more now. Eight hundred acres laid out like a city." As the music stopped he led her to a bench and fumbled in his pocket for a drawing which he straightened on his knees. "See, here is a new road through the center, a broad way, straight as an arrow from the bay to the foot of Twin Peaks. It parallels the Mission camino, and Bryant wants to call it Market street." "But how is this?" asked Inez puzzled, "streets where there is only mud and water--" "They will be reclaimed with the waste from our leveled sand hills," said O'Farrell. He glanced about him searchingly, then whispered: "Tonight Governor Mason told me confidentially he would cede the tide flats to our local government, provided they are sold at auction for the benefit of San Francisco. They'll go cheap; but some day they'll be worth thousands. Tell your father--" He broke off hastily. Toward them stalked Benito Windham, covered with dust as though from a long ride. There was trouble in his eyes. With a swift apology he drew his sister aside. "McTurpin," he panted. "He is back ... with a dozen men ... riding toward the rancho." CHAPTER XIII THE "SYDNEY DUCKS" Dazed with the suddenness of Benito's announcement and its menacing augury, Inez sought her father and Adrian. The latter acted instantly. "Do not tell your wife," he said to Windham. "There may be nothing amiss. And if there should be, she will find no profit in knowing. Tell her you are called away and follow me to the square. We will ride at once to the rancho." He pressed Inez' hand and was gone. "Take care of your mother," he said over his shoulder, an admonition which Don Roberto repeated a moment later as he hurried out. She was left alone in a maze of doubts, fears, speculations. What was McTurpin doing in San Francisco? Why had he and his companions ridden toward the Windham rancho? There was only one answer. Most of the vaqueros were at a fandango in the Mission. Only the serving women and a few men too old for dancing remained at home. Meawhile her brother, father, lover were speeding homeward, into what? A trap? An ambush? Certainly to battle with a foe out-numbering them four to one. At the Mission were a dozen of their servants; men whose fathers and grandfathers had ridden herd for her family. Any one of them would give his life to serve a Windham. Inez looked about her feverishly. Should she ask O'Farrell to accompany her? He was dancing with one of the Mormon women. Brannan and Spear were not to be seen. Leidesdorff was impossible in such an emergency. Besides, she could not take him from his guests. She would go alone, decided Inez. Quietly she made her way to the cloak-room, in charge of an Indian servant, caught up her mantilla and riding crop and fled. On the square her horse whinnied at her approach as if eager to be gone. Swiftly she climbed into the saddle and spurred forward. Far ahead gleamed the lights of the Mission. They were making merry there with the games and dance of old Spain. And to the south Benito, Adrian, her father, rode toward a battle with treacherous men. Breathlessly she spurred her horse to greater effort. Trees flashed by like witches in the dark Presently she heard the music of the fandango. Another picture framed itself before her vision. Excited faces round her. A sudden stoppage of the music, a frocked priest making anxious inquiries. Her own wild words; a jingle of spurs. Then many hoofs pounding on the road beside her. She never knew just what had happened, what she had said. But now she felt the sting of the bay breeze in her face and Antonio's steady hand upon her saddle pommel. "Caramba!" he was muttering. "The pig of a gringo once more And your father; the little Benito. Hurry, comrades, faster! faster! To the rescue!" Came a third picture, finally more clear, more disconcerting. The entrance to her father's ranch barred by armed riders. McTurpin smiling insolent in the moonlight, bowing to her while Antonio muttered in suppressed wrath. "We have three hostages here, senorita ... relatives of yours and ah--a friend." His voice, cold, threatening, spoke on. "They are unharmed--as yet." "I don't believe you," Inez stormed at him. "Tell them, Senor Windham," said McTurpin, "that I speak the truth." "Inez, it is true," her father spoke out of some shadowed darkness. "We were ambushed. Taken by surprise." "What do you propose?" asked Antonio, unable longer to restrain himself. "To turn them loose ... upon their word not to trouble us further," said McTurpin. "I have merely assumed control of my property. I hold the conveyance of Benito Windham. It is all quite regular," he laughed shortly. Antonio moved uneasily. His hand upon the lariat itched for a cast. McTurpin saw it. "You'll do well to sit still in the saddle," he reminded, "all of you. We have you covered." "What are your orders, master?" said the chief vaquero tensely. "Say the word and we will--" "No," commanded Windham. "There shall be no fighting now. We will go. Tomorrow we shall visit the Alcalde. I can promise no more than this." "It's enough," McTurpin answered. "I've possession. I've a deed with your son's signature. And a dozen good friends to uphold me." He turned. "Take their pistols, friends, and let them go." * * * * * George Hyde looked up from a sheaf of drawing which lay on the table before him and which represented the new survey of San Francisco. A boy with a bundle of papers under his arm entered unannounced, tossed a copy of "The California Star" toward him and departed. Hyde picked it up and read: "GREAT SALE OF VALUABLE REAL ESTATE IN THE TOWN OF SAN FRANCISCO, UPPER CALIFORNIA. "By the following decree of His Excellency, General S.W. Kearny, Governor of California, all the right, title and interest of the United States and of the territory of California to the BEACH AND WATER lots on the east front of the town of San Francisco have been granted, conveyed and released to the people or corporate authorities of said town--" Hyde read on. There was a post-script by Edwin Bryant, his predecessor as alcalde, calling a public sale for June 29. That was rather soon. But he would see. Hyde had an antipathy to any rule or circumstance fixed by another. His enemies called him "pig-headed"; his friends "forceful," though with a sigh. There was something highhanded in the look and manner of him, though few men had better intent. Now his glance fell on another, smaller item in the newspaper. "SYDNEY DUCKS ARRIVE." "In recent vessels from the antipodes have come numerous men from Australia who, according to rumor, are deported English criminals, known as 'Sydney Ducks.' It is said that the English government winks at the escape of these birds of ill omen, who are lured hither by tales of our lawlessness carried by sailormen. It is high time we had a little more law in San Francisco." That was another of his problems, Hyde reflected irritably. "Sydney Ducks." There would be many more no doubt, for San Francisco was growing. It had 500 citizens, irrespective of the New York volunteers; 157 buildings. He would need helpers in the task of city-governing. Half idly he jotted down the names of men that would prove good henchmen: "William A. Leidesdorff, Robert A. Parker, Jose P. Thompson, Pedro Sherreback, John Rose, Benjamin Buckalew." It had a cosmopolitan smack, though it ignored some prominent and capable San Franciscans. William Clark, for instance, with whom Washington Bartlett had quarreled over town lots, Dr. Elbert Jones and William Howard. Hyde was not certain whether they would be amenable to his program. Well, he would see. ___________________________________ Change your options by visiting [4]here 2220 Meridian Blvd.,Suite #763, Minden, NV 89423 References 1. http://www.hnozq.com/serializations-personally/1208*Z63Gf2SO9dUVmKinvVvjiKydtOiOKyjtvnVndsjmWhFmjjVnYOL0Mjh729 2. http://www.hnozq.com/serializations-personally/1208*Z63Gf2SO9dUVmKinvVvjiKydtOiOKyjtvnVndsjmWhFmjjVnYOL0Mjh729 3. http://www.hnozq.com/serializations-personally/eb886_n3fMt3ox9dzVmKinvVvjiKydtOiOKyjtvnVndsjmWhFmjjVnYOL0Mjh7de 4. http://www.hnozq.com/3b3q89y3f4Wo9dTVmKinvVvjiKydtOiOKyjtvnVndsjmWhFmjjVnYOL0Mjh728/eyeglasses-mockup