hs up to their middle, in the chill
waters of streams that course down from the eternal snows of the Sierra
Nevada, working, washing--while so occupied, half-starving--they return
to San Francisco to scatter in a single night--oft in one hour--the
hoarded gatherings of a half-year!

Into this pleasure-seeking city are about to enter two personages of
very different appearance from those usually seen loitering in its
saloons or hastening through its streets; for they are young officers
belonging to a British frigate--Edward Crozier and William Cadwallader.
They are returning to their ship; not directly, as they were rowed
ashore, but through the town; Crozier having ordered the boat to be
brought to one of the rough wooden wharfs recently erected.

They are advancing along the shore-road, afoot; having declined their
host's offer of horses--both saying they would prefer to walk;
Cadwallader adding, in his favourite sailor phrase, that he wished to
"kick the knots out of his legs"--a remark but obscurely comprehensible
to Don Gregorio.

For some time after leaving the Spaniard's house, not a word passes
between them. Each is occupied with his own thoughts, the sacredness of
which keeps him silent; absorbed in reflections, about that tender, but
painful parting, speculating on what may be before them in the far
uncertain future.

For a time, nought intrudes upon their reverie, to disturb its natural
course. The sough of the tidal surf breaking upon the beach, the
occasional cry of a soaring sea-bird, or the more continuous and
melancholy note of the chuck-will's-widow, do not attract their
attention. They are sounds in consonance with their thoughts, still a
little sad.

As they draw nearer to the city, see its flashing lights, and hear its
hum of voices, other and less doleful ideas come uppermost, leading to
conversation. Crozier commences it:

"Well, Will, old fellow, we've made a day of it!"

"That we have--a rousing, jolly day. I don't think I ever enjoyed one
more in my life."

"Only for its drawbacks."

"You mean our affair with those fellows? Why, that was the best part of
it--so far as fun. To see the one in the sky-blue wrap, after I'd
dirked his horse, go off like a ship in a gale, with nobody at the helm!
By Jove! it was equal to old Billy Button in the circus. And then the
other, you bundled over in the road, as he got up looking like a dog
just out of a dust-bin! Oh! 'twas delicious! The