"I don't know. My orders are that you shall move immediately. See that you do it," said the man rudely. While holding the paper in my hands I glanced over it hastily, and saw the marks of a spurious document. It was poorly constructed, and bore no official signs. I recognized it as a counterfeit. "We have had permission from captain S., one of the aldermen, to put our tents here, and we shall stay unless he orders us away," said I stoutly. "You have permission from captain S.?" he asked in surprise. "Yes, sir, from captain S. himself, and you can say to the chief of police that we shall stay here until the captain orders us to leave," saying which I stepped back into the tent. The man retreated, muttering to himself as he went, for he was utterly routed, and never returned; neither did we hear any more for some time about moving our tents. It was as I suspected. Mr. Sourdough had thought to frighten us away, and the order from the chief of police was utterly bogus. Some time afterward, when madam attempted to put a floor into her tent, "Sourdough" again put in an appearance. He threatened, but she held out, when the obstinate and perverse old man trotted off down town and secured an officer and four soldiers to come and put her off. The officer looked the ground over, inquired if there was room for teams to pass if necessary, and seeing her tent in line with many others, he turned to the old man and said: "This tent takes up no more of the street than the others. This lady has as much right to be here as any one else. What is the matter with you? Let the women alone," and he and his soldiers marched away. Mr. Sourdough tore his hair. He was wild with anger. The floor of madam's tent went down and stayed. Each day I was in the habit of giving my Swedish friends a call, and found them finally ready to set up their restaurant tent. A large floor was laid on Second street near the post-office, the large canvas stretched over the frame, tables and seats provided, a corner partitioned off for a kitchen, dishes placed upon shelves, and they began serving meals. At this juncture I happened in one day just before noon and found them rushed with work and unable to fill their meal orders for lack of help. Mary was peeling potatoes in haste, while trying to do other things at the same time, and Ricka and Alma were flying like bees. "Let me peel those potatoes for you," said I, taking the knife from Mary's hand; and when she demurred, I told her I really had nothing to do, and would be glad to assist. When the potatoes were peeled, dishes were heaped up to be cleaned, and I quickly washed them, feeling that I was of some service, and not heeding the surprised looks of a few acquaintances who chanced to catch a glimpse of me at work in the kitchen through the door. This I did each day, coming over after I had eaten my breakfast, and rolling up my sleeves to my elbows, drove them deep into the dish pan and hot water.