"No, why should I? It wasn't built until fifty-two."
He ignored my insinuation and turned back to his informer. "What about the Parrott Building? It sounds like an aviary."
"Not exactly," he smiled. "It was made of granite blocks, cut and dressed and marked in China and then shipped over and set up by the 'China Boys,' as the Orientals here called themselves."
"It's a curious coincidence," I ventured, "that the Hong Kong Bank now occupies the lower floor. What a freak of the winds it was that swept the big fire around that and the Montgomery block, and left them both for posterity!"
"Your fire seemed to have had a special veneration for historic structures," the Easterner commented. "It respected the Mission in like manner."
"Yes, somewhat," returned the miner, "but it might have had a little more respect and spared the Tehama House and the What Cheer House. I hated to see them go."
"And the Niantic Hotel and Fort Gunnybags," I added.
"Here! Here! I rise for a point of information," cried the alien. "Did the cheer inebriate and what is the technical difference between gunny-sacks and carpet bags?"
"Oh, that was our Vigilance Headquarters of fifty-six, where we hung
Casey and Cora," elucidated the Forty-niner.
"Help," gasped the Bostonian, sinking upon the bench.