Little credence had been given his announcements. In the
south, near San Fernando Mission, gold had long ago been found, but not
in sufficient quantities to allure the fortune hunter.
"See, is it not pretty?" asked Benito, pouring out a handful of the
shining stuff which he had purchased from the teamster.
"Pretty, yes, but what's it worth?" asked Adrian, dubiously.
"Some say it's true value is $16 for an ounce," responded Inez, her eyes
shining. "Samuel Brannan had a letter from a member of his band who says
they wash it from the river sand in pans."
"Sam's skeptical, though," retorted Stanley. "And, as for me, I've a
mine right here in San Francisco." He spoke enthusiastically. "Moving
sandhills into the bay. Making a new city front out of flooded bogs!
That's realism. Romance. And what's better, fortune! Isn't it, my girl?"
Inez' eyes were proud. "Fortune, yes, and not a selfish one. For it is
making others richer, San Francisco better."
"Which is well enough for you," returned Benito with a hint of
sullenness. "But I am tired of clerking for Ward & Smith at two dollars
a day. There's no romance in that." With a quick, restless motion he ran
the golden dust through his fingers again.
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