This winter passed off, apparently, very slowly, being the most
lonesome winter I had put in since I struck the mountains.
Along about the middle of February our groceries were running
short and Jim went to Hangtown for supplies. On his return he
brought me a letter from Col. Elliott, asking me to come to San
Francisco at once.
I asked him what he thought of it, and he told me by all means to
go.
I told him I would have to stop in San Francisco and buy me a suit
of clothes before going out to the fort to see Col. Elliott. He
thought this was useless, saying: "Your buckskin suit that Kit
Carson gave you is just what you want for a trip like that."
I thought that if I wore such a suit in civilization the people
would make light of me, and I hated the idea of being the laughing
stock for other people.
Jim said: "It is Col. Elliott you are going to see, and he would
rather have you come that way than any other."
I took my suit down and looked at it, and it was a fine one of the
kind. I had never worn it since Uncle Kit's wedding, so it was
practically new. I decided to wear it, and the next morning I
started for San Francisco, Jim accompanying me to Hangtown to take
the horses back to his ranche.
At Hangtown I took the stage for Sacramento, which, by the way,
was the first time I had ever ridden in a stage-coach.
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