"If the town grows much faster it will be a tragedy," remarked Adrian to James Lick that afternoon. Lick had bought a city lot at Montgomery and Jackson streets and had already sold a portion of it for $30,000. He was a believer in San Francisco's future, and at San Jose his flour mill, once contemptuously called "Lick's folly," was grinding grain which at present prices brought almost its weight in gold. "Things always right themselves, my boy," he said. "Don't worry. Keep pegging away at your sand lots. Some day you'll be a millionaire." "But half of these people are homeless. And every day they come faster. In our neighborhood are a dozen ramshackle tents where these poor devils keep 'bachelors' hall' with little more than a skillet and a coffee pot. They call it 'ranching.'" He laughed. "What would our old land barons have thought of a rancho four by six feet, which the first of our trade winds will blow into the bay?" "The Lord," said Lick, devoutly, "tempers the wind to the shorn lamb. And also to the homeless squatter on our sandy shores." "I hope you're right," responded Stanley. "It does me good to hear someone speak of God in this godless place. It is full of thieves and cut-throats; they've a settlement at the base of the hill overlooking Clark's Point. No man's life is safe, they tell me, over there." Lick frowned. "They call it Sydney Town because so many Australian convicts have settled in it. Some day we'll form a citizens' committee and run them off." "Which reminds me," Lick retorted, "that McTurpin came to town this morning. With a veiled woman ... or girl. She looks little more than a child." Adrian surveyed the other, startled. "Child?" His mind was full of vague suspicions. "Well, she didn't weigh more than a hundred. Yes, they came--both on one horse, and the fellow's companion none too well pleased, I should say. Frightened, perhaps, though why she should be is a puzzle." Lick shrugged his shoulders. "Has he taken the girl to his--the ranch?" asked Adrian. "Don't know. I reckon not," Lick answered. "They ate at the City Hotel. He'd a bag full of dust, so he'll gamble and guzzle till morning most likely." He regarded his friend keenly, a trifle uneasily. "Come, Adrian ... I'll walk past your door with you." "I'm not going home just yet, thanks," Stanley's tone was nervously evasive. "Well, good-night, then," said the other with reluctance. He turned south on Kearny street toward his home. Stanley, looking after him, stood for a moment as if undetermined. Then he took his way across the Plaza toward the City Hotel.