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Updated: June 4, 2025
They accordingly sold their place and took vessel with their household goods, for San Diego, from which point they purposed to advance across the country three hundred miles to the point where Crossman had located his placer.
Rows of colored lamps were set thickly along the shore, and disposed everywhere among the rocks on which the Crossman House stands; lights glistened from all the islands, from a thousand row-boats, and in all the windows. It was very like Venice, seen from the lagoon, when the Italians make a gala-night.
Crossman's dog had ceased to bark at night, as was his wont, and sent her a note inquiring about it, for she thought there was something poetical in connection with nocturnal noises, which she hoped Mrs. Crossman felt also. Fanny conveyed the note, and read it likewise, as Mrs. Crossman declared her inability to read writing with her new spectacles, which a peddler had cheated her with lately.
She struck a provocative pose, her hand on her hip, her head thrown back, while her eyes changed colour as alexandrite in the sun. The Curé turned on Crossman. "What is this woman to you?" Her eyes defied him. "Tell him," she jeered. "What am I to you?" "She is here with Antoine Marceau, the log-brander," Crossman answered unsteadily. "She takes care of our cabin, Jakapa's and mine."
The only trouble that is liable to arise out of this is that the postmaster threatens to commence an action against Crossman for obstructing the mails. Probably the meanest trick that was ever played on a white man was played in Milwaukee, and the fact that there is no vigilance committee there is the only reason the perpetrators of the trick are alive.
Quietly he gathered together his axe, mittens, and cap, and shrugging his huge shoulders into his mackinaw, looked out at the glorious brightness of the stainless world and frowned. "Come, Aurore," he said quietly. A little later, as Crossman rose to replenish the dwindling fire, he saw him, followed by Aurore, enter the northern end of the timber limit. Were they leaving, Crossman wondered.
Mr. Crossman, of Marshall street, is a man who was once a boy himself, if his memory serves him, and no boy of his is going to ask him for anything that is in his power to purchase and be refused. But when his boy asked him to buy a goat Mr. Crossman felt hurt.
Parlin, presently. "Yes, grandma; the berries are just as thick." "O, just as fick!" repeated Katie, clapping her hands. "In the Crossman orchard," added Dotty. "Prosser Horcher," put in Katie, choking a little at the large words. "May her, gamma?" Now, Dotty knew, as her grandmother did not, that there were two orchards; and the one she meant was a mile and a half away.
He frowned, made the sign of the cross, jerked out the knife, and thrust its point in the purifying blaze of the charcoal fire. But he made no comment. Crossman turned on his heel and entered the office-building. Through the south window he saw Jakapa snowshoeing swiftly up the short incline to the door; beside him walked the Curé, pleading and anxious.
This man, whose indolence had made him a common loafer, had become a petty thief; he would lurk around backyards and steal any article he could lay his hands to an axe, a shovel, or a garment off a line. 'What you say is true enough, Ragged Pete, said a boy of about fourteen, quite good looking, and dressed with comparative neatness. 'A Crossman has to look sharp now-a-days to make a boodle.
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