"We don't want the room for a week. We'll take it for a night, though. We're on our way to the mines," said Mr. Adams.
"So is everybody else," sharply answered the clerk. "For one night the room is five dollars apiece, and I'll be losing money at that."
"All right. We've got a trunk out in front. Have it sent up, please."
"Can't do it, sir. Every man is his own porter, in this town. The stairs are fairly wide. I'll show you up."
The Mexicans had dropped the trunk on the long porch, and refused to carry it another inch. And when they were to be paid off, they insisted that the two dollars meant two dollars apiece! Bystanders gravely agreed that this was the correct price.
"Whew!" sighed Mr. Adams, with a quizzical smile, after he had paid. "No wonder that twenty dollars a day is small wages, out here. What an enormous amount of money there must be in circulation! Grab an end, Charley. Come along, Grigsby. Let's inspect our quarters."
XV
THE SIGHTS OF SAN FRANCISCO
Charley took one end of the trunk, his father the other, and piloted by the hotel man, with Mr. Grigsby, lugging the hand baggage, in their wake, they climbed two flimsy flights of stairs to the third floor! The hotel man led the way down a narrow hall of rough boards, and flung open a door.