Dolores' handkerchief for the last time. On to Dixie! Going home!

Out on the bay, thronged with the ships of all nations, the steamer
glides. Its shores are covered with smiling villages. Happy homes
and growing cities crown the heights. Past grim Alcatraz, where
the star flag proudly floats on the Sumter-like citadel, the boat
slowly moves. It leaves the great metropolis of the West, spreading
over its sandy hills and creeping up now the far green valleys. It
slips safely through the sea-gates of the West, and past the grim
fort at the South Heads. There, casemate and barbette shelter the
shotted guns which speak only for the Union.

Valois' heart rises in his throat as the sentinel's bayonet glitters
in the sunlight. Loyal men are on the walls of the fort. Far away
on the Presidio grounds, he can see the blue regiments of Carleton's
troops, at exercise, wheel at drill. The sweeping line of a cavalry
battalion moves, their sabres flash as the lines dash on. These
men are now his foes. The tossing breakers of the bar throw their
spray high over bulwarks and guard. In grim determination he
watches the last American flag he ever will see in friendship, till
it fades away from sight. He has now taken the irrevocable step.
When he steps on Mexican soil, he will be "a man without a country."
Prudential reasons keep him aloof from his companions until Guaymas
is reached. Once ashore, the comrades openly unite. Without delay
the party plunges into the interior. Well armed, splendidly mounted,
they assume a semi-military discipline. The Mexicans are none too
friendly. Valois has abundant gold, as well as forty thousand
dollars in drafts on Havana, the proceeds of Lagunitas' future
returns advanced by Hardin.