“Why, Madam, I’ve been waitin’ here all mornin’ for the owner to come and get ’em.”
Ah, now I understood. He was responsible for the shoes and he thought that they belonged to a man. Fifty cents passed into the faithful black hands and my porter disappeared with just a hint of a smile on his face.
CHAPTER XII
OFF FOR CALIFORNIA
We left Portland on the night train for San Francisco. I took my gull, the Captain we called him, into the sleeper with me. He was asleep when I placed his basket under my berth, but about midnight he awoke and squawked frightfully.
I rang for the porter but before he arrived the Captain had awakened nearly every one in the car. Angry voices were heard inquiring what that “screeching, screaming thing,” was.
An old gentleman thrust his red night capped head out of his berth next to mine and angrily demanded of me where that nasty beast came from. When I politely told him he said he wished that I had had the good sense to leave it there. Then he said something that sounded dreadfully like swear words, but being such an old gentleman I’ve no doubt that my ears deceived me.
At any rate it was something about sea gulls in general and my own in particular. His red flannel cap disappeared and presently I heard him snoring away up in G. Now my poor gull only squawked on low C. After that the Captain traveled in the baggage car with the trunks and packages.
Traveling south from Portland one passes farms and orchards until the foot of the Sierra Nevada range is reached. Most of the farms are well improved. Many of the orchards are bearing, while others are young.
Here and there in the mountains are cattle ranches. These mountains are not barren, rugged rocks like the Selkirks of Alaska. Here there is plenty of pasture to the very summit of the mountains.