The squad composed of Corporal Burdick, privates Monahan, McKaig, and O’Brien, relieved the guard at Boca, Sunday afternoon, July 22d, at 3 P. M. Not having had any thing to eat since breakfast, and being anxious to try the fare of the Boca Hotel, which their comrades had praised so enthusiastically, Monahan, McKaig, and O’Brien, not content to wait until 6 o’clock, decided to try and get some thing to eat, though of course the noonday meal at the hotel had long since passed into history.
Burdick stood guard, saying that he would save his appetite, and endeavor to do justice to his dinner at 6 o’clock. By dint of tales of starvation that would do credit to Baron Munchausen, our three worthies prevailed on the hotel clerk, whose face, O’Brien said, seemed very familiar, to give them what he could get in the kitchen. A very good lunch was improvised, and during the course of its disappearance it flashed across the mind of O’Brien that this same clerk so strangely met with in a small town high up in the rocky passes of the Sierra Nevada’s was none other than Jimmy Madden, an old schoolmate, and resident of the Mission. Mutual recognition was in order, and the future well feeding of this detail, at least, was assured. Even at midnight a fine meal of hot coffee, boiled eggs, tongue sandwiches, and (hold your breath) cream puffs! was furnished them by their kindly host. In regard to these same cream puffs “Kinky” Mac claimed, to use the common parlance, to “have a kick coming.” Monahan and Burdick had gone up to the hotel at twelve to get the midnight repast, leaving O’Brien on guard, and “Kinky” asleep on the lee side of a clump of sage brush with his hat for a pillow. On their return, the can holding the solids was quickly opened, and O’Brien, holding the lantern above it, saw before his wondering eyes three cream puffs. The sight of such luxuries made him gasp and press his hand to his palpitating heart. But three cream puffs for four men, what could it mean? He glanced quickly at lengthy Monahan and the little corporal who has read Gulliver’s Travels, and saw a guilty look flit across their faces, half shown by the feeble light of the lantern which he still held above the precious can. He discreetly held his peace, however, and busied himself disposing of his share, which, of course, included one cream puff. They did the same and then wakened Kinky. He was enchanted with his eggs, sandwiches, and coffee. All would still have been lovely, but Monahan, intoxicated with good fortune, asked Ben how he liked the cream puffs!
“Cream puffs!” shouted Kinky, “Where’s mine?”
Consternation in the enemy’s camp. Explanations were useless. He wanted his cream puff and on its nonproduction branded all three as land pirates and highwaymen. The punishment of the guilty had overtaken them. “Kinky” talked, and when he talks “stand from under,” for tho’ he says little and rambles much, he keeps it up incessantly. All that night were the hapless men punished for yielding to the temptation which had been too great; and in the morning promises to reform were eagerly made if “Kinky” would only drop the cream-puff subject.
On leaving the hotel after their impromptu repast our three boys saw that, this being Sunday, the veranda was crowded with mountaineers of all descriptions. They were passing down the steps, when they were accosted by one, who wanted to know “Who the fourteen-year-old kid was you had on there last night, and waked the town crying for his mamma?” Answering him, not sharply, but decidedly, that “they didn’t know who was on there last night, but they did know who would be on to-night, and would guarantee them,” they passed on down the steps feeling that such a performance last night must be offset by a very decided tone to-day. This was a Sunday crowd and liable to be all drunk by night. Later in the evening one drunken lumberman informed Corporal Burdick that he intended to go up on the bluff above the bridge and fire off blank cartridges at the sentry; but no notice was taken of him by the corporal, and he was finally persuaded by a very sensible friend that “he’d better not try it. This was not the same crowd that was on last night.”
Another approached private O’Brien while on guard, and wanted to know what four soldiers could do against all the men in town if they wanted to take the bridge and burn it. He was promptly answered that the four soldiers considered themselves enough to hold the bridge until relieved, and proposed to do it, too. All this questioning seemed to indicate, at least, a desire to try to take the bridge, and to provide against surprise, the guard vacated the empty box-car, which was used as a guard-house, and carried their blankets, etc., across the bridge and onto a bluff which overhung it and held a commanding view of its entire length and all the approaches to it. Here they felt well able to hold their ground until relieved next day. No disturbance occurred, however, the night passing quietly, with the exception of the noise created by McKaig’s tirade against criminals in general and cream-puff thieves in particular. The night was divided into watches of two hours each, one man standing guard on the edge of the bluff overhanging the bridge, while his comrades slept in the sage brush, rolled in their blankets, within reach of his hand.
The next morning, Monday, was spent by those off guard fishing in the Truckee or in Boca creek, half a dozen fish being secured, or in wandering over the ruins of the famous Boca Brewery, which had been burned the year previous. On account of the purity of the water used, this beer had the reputation of being the best made.
The belligerent spirits of the night before had all gone off to work, and no more excitement was furnished the squad.
At about 10 o’clock the relieving train passed through, dropping off the squad for the next day. Our squad did not have to wait for the return of the train, however, the details at Boca and Prosser being ordered to ride in on a freight train just arrived at Boca, and now, having taken on some extra ice-cars was ready to leave.
The ride in was uneventful, the two details arriving in Truckee at noon, just in time for dinner at the Truckee hotel.