"Look at the crowd!" exclaimed Mr. Adams, as they emerged at the corner; for part way up a hilly street a great throng had gathered in front of a low building, and a constant stream of other people were hastening that way. "What's the matter up there?" he inquired, of a passerby.
The man scarcely paused. He only turned his head, to drawl:
"Post-office, mister, and the mail's come in."
"That must be the mail we brought," cried Charley.
"If you came on the California, you brought it, sonny," informed another stranger.
"When's the office open, sir?" inquired Mr. Adams.
"Whenever the mail's distributed, of course," replied the man. "I hear the California fetched about 25,000 pieces, in all languages from American to Chinese. The postmaster and two assistants have been working all night and they'll probably work all day and another night."
"Well, we don't expect anything this time; do you, Grigsby?"
The Frémonter shook his head.
"Nor do I," volunteered the strange man. "But I've a partner up there who's been expecting a letter for six months. See those lines of hopefuls? By noon they'll be extended two blocks. The first in line must have got there as soon as the ship was sighted, last evening. I've known men to wait in line for a week, and have their meals brought to them. And then as like as not they didn't get their letter."