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Updated: May 8, 2025
Each boy rose and bowed. Nat returned the bow. Abe kept saying funny things under his breath that the schoolmaster could not hear. But the children heard, and they could hardly keep from laughing out loud. Sally sat on the second bench. "Mrs. Lincoln," said Abe in a high falsetto voice, "this here be Mr. Grigsby." While she was making her curtsy, Sally's cheeks suddenly grew red.
The hotel man led the way down a narrow hall of rough boards, and flung open a door. "Here's your room," he announced, shortly. "Don't ask for what you don't see. We haven't got it. You're lucky, gentlemen, not to be obliged to sleep in a tent and San Francisco nights are cold. Five dollars each, please." "Certainly," said Mr. Adams; and he and Mr. Grigsby settled for the party.
"You're overshooting. You saw me ashore." "Yes, we saw you," replied Mr. Grigsby. "Meaning, I suppose," resumed the long-nosed man, "that if I didn't do it some of my friends did. You saw them ashore, too, didn't you?" "Saw one of them, perhaps," admitted Mr. Adams.
"We'll not stand to be robbed in any such fashion. Let's go and see what they have to say." "The way I size those gentry up," said Mr. Grigsby, "they're there and we're here, and they won't let us get much closer. Maybe we can starve 'em out, though," and he surveyed the ridge. "I'm with you, in anything you want to do," spoke Mr. Walker. "How many are there? Three?"
All they wanted now was anybody's boat, of any kind. Charley was glad to see them go. Francisco grinned at Mr. Adams and Charley. From the stern where he was sitting Mr. Grigsby approved, to Francisco, with a jocular sentence in Spanish, at which Francisco grinned again. Maria spoke aside, and Mr. Adams nodded, translating to Charley: "Maria says we have paid for the boat and it is our boat.
What could have hap " She glanced up at the mine buildings perched above the roadway and smothered a little cry. Ford's eyes followed hers. All across the slab-built shaft-house and the lean-to ore sheds was stretched a huge canvas sign. Stuart Ford & John Grigsby, Props. The white-haired old man standing in the leading buckboard was trembling with righteous indignation.
Adams answered never a word and neither, of course, did Charley. He rather hoped that, after all, the group would decide not to handle the long-nosed man roughly, even though he was a dangerous person. Mr. Jacobs evidently was nervous despite his bragging; and when the group advanced again, he turned pale. The man with the goatee spoke, first addressing Mr. Grigsby and Mr. Adams.
So speaking, the first mate turned on his heel and left. Charley saw his father flush angrily, but Mr. Grigsby only laughed. "Let him go," he said. "We can do our own fighting." A passenger standing near evidently had overheard the conversation, for he asked, quietly: "Do I understand somebody tried to cut your boat down, last night?" "Yes, sir." "His name was Jacobs, wasn't it?" "Yes, sir."
"What color eyes?" "I don't know," confessed Charley, truthfully. "B-black, I think." "Don't know!" grunted Mr. Grigsby. "After this, notice those things. A man can change his hair, but he can't change his eyes. When you've followed the trail a while, like I have, you'll learn to size a man up at a glance, and never forget him. Kit Carson was a great fellow for that. So was Frémont.
"I believe I'll go to bed," faltered Charley. "Pshaw! You are looking kinder green," said Mr. Grigsby, surveying him. "Feel sick, Charley?" queried his father. Charley's actions spoke louder than words, for suddenly he was at the rail getting rid of his hard-earned supper. When he tottered back, already his father was spreading quilt and blanket against the rail behind which hung the boat.
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