The nest-building instinct was astir in her and
she pondered on the house they were to build, how they must arrange
something for a table, and maybe fashion armchairs of barrels and red
flannel. Finally, in a last voluptuous flight of ecstasy, she saw
herself riding into Sacramento with a sack of dust and abandoning
herself to an orgie of bartering.
One afternoon three men, two Mexicans and an Australian sailor from a
ship in San Francisco cove, stopped at the camp for food. The
Australian was a loquacious fellow, with faculties sharpened by
glimpses of life in many ports. He told them of the two emigrant
convoys he had just seen arrive in Sacramento, worn and wasted by the
last forced marches over the mountains. Susan, who had been busy over
her cooking, according him scant attention, at his description of the
trains, suddenly lifted intent eyes and leaned toward him:
"Did you see a man among them, a young man, tall and thin, with black
hair and beard?"
"All the men were tall and thin, or any ways thin," said the sailor,
laughing. "How tall was he?"
"Six feet," she replied, her face devoid of any answering smile, "with
high shoulders and walking with a stoop.
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