We all knew that this was only a respite—that more serious trouble was ahead. But, in fact, it proved the camp’s salvation. A gentleman called Sumner—I forget his other name—a Northerner of character and standing, who knew all about our case, came to our defense in San Francisco. I also sent a full statement of our case to my friend, Colonel Crockett, later a Justice of the Supreme Court. These two waited on General McDowell, in command of the Department of the Pacific, and so far convinced him that he sent rather peremptory orders to Visalia not to interfere with us further, except on direct command.
At the same time I was advised that I was free to go to and from San Francisco; that there never had been, in fact, a charge against me; that the rearrest of Mr. Greathouse was in no way connected with myself; that the United States marshal had only been advised to keep an eye on me; that he had only wired the Sheriff at Santa Cruz to do the same.
Tn other words, I had fled from a man of straw—from a lighted pumpkin head in a dark room—and had stumbled over a fortune.
With sufficient money, I made haste to San Francisco, paid my trifling debts, not overlooking the hotel keeper; bought a quartz mill and appurtenances, rushed it down the valley and had the stamps falling in record-breaking time.
The year 1865 was a busy one for Havilah and the Clear Creek mining district. It became a heavy gold producer—miners, capitalists, speculators swarmed into it from all over the Pacific slope. I laid out my townsite in due season and sold it out at fancy figures. The main street brought an average of $20 per foot. A boom was on all along the line. I was offered fancy prices for my mining claims. I let them go. My principle was to avoid what is vulgarly known as “hoggishness.” When I could make a million by a business turn I considered it a good day’s work.
But as a matter of fact, I only cleaned up with $800,000. That is what I banked in San Francisco long before the end of 1865.
The town of Havilah prospered mightily. At one time it must have numbered nearly 3000 inhabitants. It was a brisk center with hotels, livery stables, large merchandise stores, lawyers, doctors, preachers, open gambling houses, hurdy-gurdies, saloons, banks, bagnios and the other evidences of advanced civilization.
Not only that, but its enterprising inhabitants appeared before the next legislature and asked for the creation of a new county. Though by that time a permanent resident of San Francisco, I assisted in the passage of a bill that cut off from Tulare the county of Kern, and named Havilah the county seat. It so remained until the decline of mining and the growth of agriculture in the lowlands moved the capital to Bakersfield.
These statements can be verified by official records of Kern county and of the town of Havilah, which I presume still exist. Also by the testimony of many people still living.
Such were the tricks Dame Fortune played me in a period of a little longer than a year.