“Kitty's cooking is as fair as the reputation of her house is not. She charges two dollars for a meal of pork and beans.”
“'Tis the regular price everywhere. I'll be back soon.” After the meal John went to, the barbecue, imbibing rather freely of the fire-water barrel and making a night of it.
Heavy travel continued over the bridge all afternoon—a prairie schooner with three oxen, two mules and a bronco pulling it; a prospector in his red flannel undershirt, driving a laden donkey; a hurdy-gurdy troupe on its way to the barbecue; a stage-coach drawn by six half-broken wild horses; an old Spanish settler on a beautiful, black thoroughbred; a late arrival from Oregon, mounted upon a sturdy mule with his young wife upon a pillion behind him, and a whole drove of China-men being taken out to work a white man's claim up on the Divide.
There passed Welch miners, who were to be the fore-runners of quartz mining; miners from Australia, who were to replace the wooden “bateas” of the Mexicans with the rocker and the iron gold-pan, and the term of “specimen” with “nugget.”
Finally came a hale, old voyaguer whom Longley greeted heartily as he swung open the toll gate:
“Greetings, Monsieur Francois Gendron, and from whence came you today?” The big Frenchman handed over the “six-bits” toll for himself and his horse.
“From New Helvetia.”
“Ah—Sacramento.”
“And I am bound for the North Fork Dry Diggings.”
“Auburn?” smiled Longley.