San Francisco in this time of panic and distress was more quiet and orderly than ever before. I saw not a single disturbance of the peace. With it all, the soldiers were polite, and seemed to try in every way to show courtesy and consideration. When they had to order people back, they did it in a quiet and gentlemanly way. [Illustration: Copyright 1906 by Tom M. Phillips. =CAMP KITCHEN.= Cooking in Baseball Park.] [Illustration: Copyright 1906 by Tom M. Phillips. =SHACKS ERECTED IN A FEW HOURS.= Another view in Golden Gate Park.] [Illustration: =GOVERNOR PARDEE OF CALIFORNIA.= The prompt help in relief work rendered by Gov. Pardee stamps him as one of the greatest humanitarians of the present day.] [Illustration: Copyright, Clinedinst, Washington. =MAJOR GENERAL ADOLPHUS W. GREELY.= Commander of the Pacific Division of the U. S. Army in the earthquake district. General Greely is well known for his Arctic expedition.] I met men who claimed to have seen men shot down by the soldiers for defying orders for unlicensed looting. Also there is a story of a negro being shot dead by a policeman for robbing a dead body. One story I would like to believe--that a poor wretch pinned in among the blazing ruins roasting to death begged to be shot and some cavalry trooper had the moral courage to send a bullet through his brain. Although I walked probably fifteen miles back and forth through the city, I saw very little unlicensed looting. Many grocery stores which did not seem to be in immediate danger, were thrown open; one very oddly. The proprietor nailed up one window with slats about four inches wide. He made the refugees line up, and each was privileged to take all he could reach through the window slats. Some grocers and tradesmen were not so charitable. In other places I saw them demanding from people in danger of starving, 75 cents a loaf for bread. Bread was the scarcest article except water. The last of the tragedy that I witnessed was not only the most dramatic but the most tremendous. It should be called the "Exodus," for it was a Biblical scene. It was the headlong flight of those who were most terror-stricken to get out of the doomed city. All day long a procession of almost countless thousands was to be seen hurrying with all the possessions they could carry. There were people with bundles, packs, laden express wagons, hacks bulging with plunder, brewery wagons pressed into service, automobiles, push carts, even fire hose wagons. I happened along at a crucial moment. One of the lieutenants whose peculiar and melancholy function seemed to be to pronounce the doom of one section after another, had just sent warning to Nob Hill, the center of fashion in San Francisco. For hours I had been working my way toward the Oakland ferries. As a last hope, some one told me I might get there by going over these hills and following the line of the water front.