Robert and Benito Windham, on the hill above Clark's Point, looked down
toward the beach, where a crowd was gathering for the auction of
tidewater lots. The Windhams, since their dispossession by McTurpin, had
been guests of hospitable Juana Briones. Through the Alcalde's order
they had secured their personal effects. But the former gambler still
held right and title to the Windham acres. Adrian Stanley made his home
at the City Hotel and had been occupied with an impromptu school where
some four score children and half a dozen illiterates were daily taught
the mysteries of the "Three Rs."
"Adrian has determined to buy some of these mud-lots," said Windham to
his son. "He believes some day they will be valuable and that he will
make his fortune." He sighed. "I fear my son-to-be is something of a
visionary."
Benito gave his father a quick, almost furtive glance. "Do not condemn
him for that," he said, with a hint of reproach. "Adrian is far-sighted,
yes; but not a dreamer."
"What can he do with a square of bog that is covered half of the time by
water?" asked Windham.
"Ah," Benito said, "we've talked that over, Adrian and I. Adrian has a
plan of reclamation.
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