The hungry mortals looked forward longingly for their arrival at Sacramento. For here surely they would be adequately supplied. But they were doomed to disappointment. Adjutant General Allen worked upon this hypothesis, that if the men did not bring the rations he ordered them to, they themselves were to blame and must therefore suffer the consequences. But how foolish is such reasoning. What if the men are to blame? Is it not the duty of a general to see that his men receive the proper subsistence. It is indeed a poor commander who hopes for success and at the same time allows his men to suffer hunger in the midst of plenty. Happily the men did not know what awaited them, they were content to live in hopes. The train passed through Stockton at about 6:30 A. M. Here Companies A and B of the Sixth Regiment were standing in line ready to join the San Francisco regiments and proceed to the capital. They were taken on board the second section. The journey from Stockton was soon finished, and at 8:30 A. M. the first section arrived in Sacramento, and stopped at Twenty-first street. [Illustration] [Illustration: THE MOB IN FRONT OF THE DEPOT AT SACRAMENTO, JULY 4TH, 1894. (BARRY BALDWIN HARANGUING THE STRIKERS FROM THE TOP OF A PULLMAN CAR.)] [Illustration] CHAPTER III. FOURTH OF JULY AT SACRAMENTO. “In war take all the time for thinking that the circumstances allow, but when the time for action comes, _stop thinking_.” _Andrew Jackson._ Sacramento at last! Ah, boys, little did we think when our section pulled in at Twenty-first street, that we were now on the future field of the great and glorious, but bloodless battle of “The Depot.” The battle of strategic “co-operations” and still existing “truces,” in which we were destined to take such a prominent “standing” part. Sacramento! The scene of our future troubles and joys (much of the former but how very few of the latter). Our troubles began when the order came to sling knapsacks and form in the street. That never to be forgotten 4th of July was a banner day for heat, even in the annals of sultry Sacramento; and as we stepped from our car, tired, hungry, and oh, my! how hot, we were inhumanely confronted by a large sign on the side of a brewery, “Ice Cold Buffalo 5cts.” The eye of many a brave comrade grew watery and his mouth dry as we stood there in the burning rays of the sun with our knapsacks and blankets on our backs facing that sign like a little band of modern Spartans and waiting patiently for the order to march. Soon the “glittering staff,” armed to the teeth, passed “gorgeously” by; the order “forward” echoed along the line, and the “army of occupation” was in motion.