s very busy here. He is
one of the few that has received a large grant of land, and it is
because the clergy love him so much they oppose his wish in nothing.
Do you see those sharp points against the sky? They are the tops of
lofty trees, like the masts of giant ships, and with many rigid arms
spiked like the pines. You saw a few of them in the hollow below
Tamalpais, but up on those mountains there are miles and miles of
mighty forests. No white man has ever penetrated them, nor ever will,
perhaps. We have no use for them, and even if you made this your
kingdom, senor, I suppose not many would come with you. Far, far down
where the water stops are the Mission of Santa Clara and the pueblo of
San Jose; but I have heard you cannot approach within many miles of the
land in a boat."

When they had sailed south for a few moments the boat came about
sharply. Concha laughed. "I had forgotten the chart. I rather hoped
you would run on a shoal."

But as they approached the cove of Yerba Buena again she caught his arm
suddenly, unconscious of the act, and the little dancing lights of
humor in her eyes went out. "Your white city, senor! Ay, Dios! what a
city of dreams that can never come true!"

The soft white fog that sometimes, even at this season, came in from
the sea, was rolling over the hills between the Battery and the
Presidio, wreathing about the rocky heights and slopes. It broke into
domes and cupolas, spires and minarets. Great waves rolled over the
sand dunes and beat upon the cliffs with the phantoms clinging to its
sides. Then the sun struggled with a thousand colors. The sun
conquered, the mist shimmered into sunlight, and once more the hills
were gray and bare.

Rezanov laughed, but his eyes glowed down upon her. "I am not sure it
was there," he said. "I have an idea your imagination and touch acted
as a sort of enchanter's wand. The others evidently saw nothing."

"The others saw only fog and shivered. But it was there, senor! We
have had a vision. A Russian city! Ay, yi!"

But Rezanov had forgotten the city. Her reboso had fallen and a strand
of her hair blew across his face. His lips caught it and his eyes
burned. They rounded a headland and the world looked green and young.

"Concha!" he whispered.

Her eyes flashed and melted, she lifted her chin; then burst into a
merry ripple of laughter.

"Senor!" she said, "if you make love to me, I shall have to compare you
with many o