This car was sixty feet in length and would make you think you were in a
palace hotel on wheels. Hank Small, who had hands as big as a garden
spade, was the engineer, with engine No. 96, which was always expected
to pull the pay car. Then there was a man by the name of Olmsby who was
one of the check clerks, young and very fine looking. Then there was
another man in the employ of the company by the name of Gerald who was
auditor for the company and had feet twice as large as any other man.
Now I want my readers to hold these three men in mind and their
peculiarities for I shall refer to them later on.

We are all now seated at the supper table, ten in all, and all railroad
men except myself, with the dignified paymaster at the head of the table
and his check clerk, Olmsby, at the foot, who assumed the duty of saying
grace by making motions around his chest and head, accompanied with
these words, "Bucksaws filed and set." This created some amusement and
was the only time it occurred. The supper went on and the tables were
cleared away, and then there was chatting and story telling. Finally I
started to tell a story and had gotten fairly into it when I suddenly
discovered that every man in the room was sound asleep. It did not take
me long to wake them up and have every man on his feet or on the floor.
This did not last long, for I brought out one of my boxes of cigars and
that settled the question right there. The next day we were in the San
Joaquin Valley and continued the trip, paying the men as we went along,
until we reached Bakersfield. This was the end of the road at that time.
Then we returned to Stockton, to Sacramento, to Red Bluff, which was the
end of the road in that direction at that time. From there we returned
to San Francisco, having had a very fine and agreeable trip, and each
one returned to his former allotted position. I at this time was in the
produce commission business on Washington street near Front street.
Inside of a year Mr. Olmsby left the railroad company, married and went