Although it was near to November, the foliage of the trees was barely colored. The climate of California charmed me. We were making fast time down grade, in spite of our jaded condition, and we did not tarry for lunch. When Placerville hove in sight I was a most tickled donk. Just one minute after dark we ambled into town, and were escorted to the famous spot where Horace Greeley first stepped on California soil.
[CHAPTER LVI.]
'Frisco at last, we win!
BY PYE POD.
Who can tell a man from manners?
Who can tell him by his close?
Beggars often smoke Havanners;
Nabobs wear a bottle-nose.
Placerville greeted us royally. It was once one of the largest cities in California, and in those lawless days was called Hangtown. After describing my journey in my happiest vein, the thoughtful sheriff passed his hat and presented me with about nine dollars. Then amid hearty cheers for Mac A'Rony, we were escorted to a hotel.
That evening Coonskin and I were fêted by the young "bloods" of the town.