... Well, let 'em come."
"And now you boys go home and get some sleep. By the Eternal, you
deserve it!"
CHAPTER LXII
ADOLPH SUTRO'S TUNNEL
William C. Ralston's Bank of California had become the great financial
institution of the West. Ralston was the Rothschild of America. Through
him Central Pacific Railway promoters borrowed $3,000,000 with less
formality than a country banker uses in mortgaging of a ten-acre farm.
Two millions took their unobtrusive wing to South America, financing
mines he had never seen. In Virginia City William Sharon directed a
branch of the Bank of California and kept his eye on mineral investment.
Benito sat in Ralston's office one morning, smoking and discussing the
Montgomery street problem when a clerk tapped at the door.
"A fellow's out here from Virginia City," he said nervously. "Wants to
see you quickly 'and no bones about it.' That's what he told me."
"All right, send him in," said Ralston laughing. "Stay, Benito. He won't
take a minute...." Ere he finished there stalked in a wild-eyed
individual clad in boots, the slouch hat of the mining man, a suit of
handsome broadcloth, mud-bespattered and a heavy golden watch chain with
the usual nugget charm.
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