We started from Hangtown at five o'clock in the morning and at
twelve o'clock that night the driver drew rein at the American
Exchange Hotel in Sacramento. The coach was loaded down to its
utmost capacity, there being nine passengers aboard. The roads
were very rough at this season of the year--being the latter part
of February--and I would rather have ridden on the hurricane deck
of the worst bucking mustang in California than in that coach.
This hotel was kept at that time by a man named Lamb.
That night when the proprietor assigned the passengers to their
respective rooms he asked us if we wished to take the boat for San
Francisco the next morning. I told him that I did, whereupon he
asked me if I wanted my breakfast. I told him that I did, saying
that I didn't want to go from there to San Francisco without
anything to eat. This caused quite a laugh among the bystanders;
but I did not see the point, for at that time I did not know that
one could get a meal on a steamboat, for I had never been near
one.
Just as I stepped on the boat next morning, a man rushed up to me
with a "Hello there! how are you?" as he grasped me by the hand.
Seeing that I did not recognize him, he said: "I don't believe you
know me." I told him that he had one the best of me. He said: "You
are the boy scout that was with Capt. Mill last summer, and you
rode in my wagon.
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