After this, the Commodore started a line of steamers in opposition to the fleet of Pacific Mail, and kept his boats running until he was bought off. About this time an event happened which has preserved for posterity a good story, highly characteristic of the Commodore. His son-in-law, James M. Cross, had conceived the idea of embarking in the wholesale leather business in the “Swamp.” He had been talked into it by an experienced man who was to be his partner. A store was secured, and everything put under way for the start, with the exception of the capital, which Mr. Cross had agreed to contribute against the experience of his partner. The amount was to be $50,000. Mr. Cross, knowing that the Commodore had at this time become rich and prosperous, felt satisfied that it was only necessary to make application to his enterprising father-in-law for the amount required. Thereupon, with the confidence begotten of implicit trust, he approached the Commodore for this temporary accommodation, giving him a full description of the nature of the business. After listening attentively to the statement of his esteemed son-in-law, the Commodore said in reply: “Now, James, if I let you have this $50,000 to put in the leather business, how much do you think you will be able to make for your share out of the profits?” Mr. Cross thought the best position to take with a rigid business man like his father-in-law was to be prudently conservative in his expectations, and to keep all his Colonel Seller prospects in the background. After a few moments reflection he replied: “I believe I am almost certain to make $5,000 a year.” The Commodore promptly responded: “James, as I can do better than that myself in handling $50,000, I will give you $5,000 a year hereafter, and you may consider yourself in my employ at that salary.” There was no way for James to wriggle out of it, and he accepted the situation with apparent good grace, whatever his internal emotions may have been at the time. The Commodore forthwith dispatched Mr. Cross to San Francisco to manage his steamboat business there. He soon discovered, however, that James was hardly aggressive enough for the go-ahead fellows on the gold coast, and he was recalled. After looking around some time for a man possessing the necessary requirements to be placed in successful competition with the adventurous spirits of the Pacific Slope, his search was rewarded by an introduction to Commodore C. K. Garrison, then in command of a Mississippi steamboat. Garrison had established his reputation for being the best euchre player on the river, and for much besides which that term implies. He was brave and fearless—in fact, in some respects, a Jim Bludso of real life, with the self-sacrificing qualities of that hero largely discounted, or perhaps entirely left out. It required men of mettle in those days to run a steamboat on the Father of Waters, when the greater portion of the