"City Hotel, Parker House, Portsmouth Hotel, United States Hotel; they're all running, and full to the roofs, too, stranger. If you want a bed you've got to make tracks--and I reckon by the looks of your feet you'll make 'em." "We'll go up to the plaza, I reckon, then," said Mr. Grigsby, to his partners. "Better put on our boots first." They wiped their feet on a piece of old canvas lying near, and donned their stockings and boots. "How'll we get our trunk up to the hotel, I wonder?" spoke Charley's father. "Here----" and he called to a couple of Mexicans standing near. "Want to earn fifty cents?" The Mexicans laughed, and shrugged their shoulders; and one of them, in a very impudent fashion, made a derisive answer in Spanish. Charley's father colored, and took an angry step forward; but a miner stopped him. "Go easy, stranger," he said. "This is a free land." He thrust his hand into his pocket, and actually extended to Mr. Adams two dollars. "Carry your trunk yourself," he said. "Fifty cents wouldn't take it to the end of this wharf." And the onlookers shouted at the joke. So Mr. Adams laughed. "All right," he uttered. "I offered what I thought was a fair wage. If somebody'll kindly help us up with that trunk we'll tend to the other baggage and pay the regular tariff." "Now you're talkin'," approved the miner. "Why, most of us out here wouldn't stoop over to pick up four bits. What's four bits, in these diggin's? 'Twouldn't buy a cup of coffee. But say, if you really want to make easy money, instead o' spendin' it, I've got a little investment worth your attention." "What is it?" "Best water lot in the city." A score of voices interrupted, and the Adams party found themselves almost mobbed. "Don't listen to him. Hear me!" "If you want a water lot----" "No, no; I've got 'em all skinned." "Wait a minute, now." "The most valuable proposition in California." "A water lot is what you ought to have. As soon as the city builds out----" And so forth, and so forth. It was most bewildering. "Where is your lot, sir?" demanded Mr. Adams. "Right under the red skiff yonder," directed the first miner. "Level and sightly, as you can see as soon as the tide's full out. Straight in line for the extension of Clay Street. Can't be beat." "What's your price?" asked Mr. Grigsby, with a wink at Charley. "You can have that fine lot for only $10,000 cash. It's worth $15,000." Mr. Adams threw back his head and laughed, and laughed. Even Mr. Grigsby guffawed. And Charley was indignant. These San Franciscans must think them awful green, to offer them "lots" away out in the bay--and at $10,000! "Come on, boys!" bade his father. "I'm afraid, gentlemen, that your real estate doesn't appeal. It might make a good navy yard, but not the kind of a yard that I could use for my family." "You'll see the day when you'll wish you'd taken some of those lots, strangers," warned the man, after them.