Washington Trigg, a Western member, who had brought up the architect and builder from San Francisco, had returned in a state of excitement. He had seen at an art exhibition in that city a small replica of a famous statue of California, and, without consulting his fellow members, had ordered a larger copy for the new settlement. He, however, made up for his precipitancy by an extravagant description of his purchase, which impressed even the most cautious. “It's the figger of a mighty pretty girl, in them spirit clothes they allus wear, holding a divinin' rod for findin' gold afore her in one hand; all the while she's hidin' behind her, in the other hand, a branch o' thorns out of sight. The idea bein'--don't you see?--that blamed old 'forty-niners like us, or ordinary greenhorns, ain't allowed to see the difficulties they've got to go through before reaching a strike. Mighty cute, ain't it? It's to be made life-size,--that is, about the size of a girl of that kind, don't you see?” he explained somewhat vaguely, “and will look powerful fetchin' standin' onto a pedestal in the hall of the hotel.” In reply to some further cautious inquiry as to the exact details of the raiment and of any possible shock to the modesty of lady guests at the hotel, he replied confidently, “Oh, THAT'S all right! It's the regulation uniform of goddesses and angels,--sorter as if they'd caught up a sheet or a cloud to fling round 'em before coming into this world afore folks; and being an allegory, so to speak, it ain't as if it was me or you prospectin' in high water. And, being of bronze, it”-- “Looks like a squaw, eh?” interrupted a critic, “or a cursed Chinaman?” “And if it's of metal, it will weigh a ton! How are we going to get it up here?” said another. But here Mr. Trigg was on sure ground. “I've ordered it cast holler, and, if necessary, in two sections,” he returned triumphantly. “A child could tote it round and set it up.”