choked by the swirl of dust, gazed after them. Sherwood, leaning slightly
forward against the first eagerness of the animals, showed a strong,
competent, arresting figure, with his beaver hat, his keen grim face, his
snow-white linen, and the blue of his brass-buttoned-coat. The beautiful
horses were stepping as one, a delight to the eye, making nothing whatever
of the frail vehicle at their heels. But Sam's eye lingered longest on the
small stately figure of his mistress. She sat very straight, her head high,
the little parasol poised against the sun, the other hand clasping the hat
ribbon.

"Dem's quality foh sure!" said Sam with conviction.

Sherwood drove rapidly around the edge of the Plaza and, so into Kearney
Street. From here to the water front were by now many fireproof brick and
stone structures, with double doors and iron shatters, like fortresses. So
much had San Francisco learned from her five disastrous fires. The stone
had come from China, the brick also from overseas. Down side streets one
caught glimpses of huge warehouses--already in this year of 1852 men talked
of the open-air auctions of three years before as of something in history
inconceivably remote. The streets, where formerly mule teams had literally
been drowned in mud, now were covered with planking. This made a fine
resounding pavement. Horses' hoofs went merrily _klop, klop, klop_, and the
wheels rumbled a dull undertone. San Francisco had been very proud of this
pavement when it was new. She was very grateful for it even now, for in the
upper part of town the mud and dust were still something awful.
Unfortunately the planks were beginning to wear out in places; and a city
government, trying to give the least possible for its taxes, had made no
repairs.

There were many holes, large or small: jagged, splintered, ugly holes going