Mr. Holman also became alarmed at seeing the bluish pallor of his face.
“Why, this is a congestive chill,” said he, hurrying off to call the doctor, who resided at the hotel, and who fortunately was at home.
Prompt and efficient medical attendance saved Don Mariano's life, but he was too ill to leave his bed for several days. His two friends remained with him, writing home that business matters detained them.
Doña Josefa did not feel anxious; she thought that her husband was busy negotiating a loan on his land, and this detained him.
Gabriel and Lizzie also were in constant attendance, and thus the sick man was kept in a cheerful frame of mind, a thing much to be desired in sickness always, but more especially in his case, accustomed as he was to be surrounded by a loving family.
Still he was anxious to return home. Reluctantly the doctor allowed him to do so, hoping that the salubrious climate of Southern California would be beneficial. But he said to him:
“I let you go on condition that you pledge me your word to be very careful not to get into a profuse perspiration and then rush out into the cold air. If your lungs had not been originally so healthy and strong you could not have rallied so soon, if ever; but they are yet filled with phlegm, and the least cold might give you pneumonia.” To Gabriel the doctor repeated the same words of warning, adding: “Not only is the condition of your father's lungs very precarious, but also that of his heart. He must not task either too much.”
Gabriel was thoroughly alarmed at hearing the doctor's opinion, and immediately wrote to his mother how careful his father ought to be, and how she should watch him.
Don Mariano tried to be careful, but having been very healthy all his life, he did not know how to be an invalid, nor guard against fresh colds.
About two weeks had elapsed since his return from San Francisco, when a notice that many of his city lots would be sold for taxes brought Don Mariano to town. He still held to the belief that a railroad to San Diego would surely be built at some future day, but had ceased hoping to see that day. However, he would willingly have waited for a rise in real estate before selling any of his city property, but he saw it was ruinous for him to pay taxes—taxes for town property and taxes for squatters—it was too much; so he reluctantly concluded that it would be best to lose a great many lots (yes, whole blocks), permitting them to be sold for taxes, hoping to redeem them on the following year if Tom Scott was more successful with the Texas Pacific. Mr. Mechlin and Mr. Holman did the same, and many other unlucky ones followed their discouraging examples. Thus city lots by the hundreds were sold every year.