Port O' Gold Part 45

In front of Flood and O'Brien's saloon a hand fell heartily upon Benito's shoulder. "Come in and have a drink," James Lick invited.

Lick had "made a pile" of late. He was building a big hotel on Montgomery street; was recognized as one of San Francisco's financiers.

He took Benito by the arm. "We've got to celebrate. I've made ten thousand on my Ophir shares. Carrying any mining stock, Benito?"

"No," retorted Windham. He suffered Lick to lead him to the bar. Will O'Brien, a shrewd-faced merry Irishman, took their orders. He and Flood had bought an interest in Virginia City ... "a few fate only, but it's goin' t' make us rich, me lad," he said enthusiastically as he set their gla.s.ses out upon the bar. "We'll all be nabobs soon. Ain't that the G.o.d's truth, Mr. Ralston?"

"Sure, my boy," a deep voice answered heartily. Windham turned and saw a man of forty, tall, well-molded, with a smiling forceful countenance. He seemed to smack of large affairs.

Benito sipped his liquor, listening absorbedly while Ralston rattled off facts, figures, prospects in connection with the Comstock lode.

"The Nevada mines will pay big," Benito heard him tell a group of bearded men who hung upon his utterances. "BIG! You can bet your bottom dollar on it. If you've money, don't let it stay idle."

Benito bade his friend good-bye and went out, thinking deeply. He wondered what Alice would say if....

Nesbitt of The Bulletin interrupted his musing. "Heard the news, Benito?

We're to have a stock exchange next month."

"The brokers are opposed to it. They don't want staple values, because, now and then, they can pick up a bargain or drive a hard trade. And they can peddle 'wildcat' stocks to tenderfeet.... We must stop that sort of thing."

"Quite so," said Windham vaguely comprehending. Nesbitt babbled on.

"There are to be forty charter members, with a fund of $2000."

He took a pencil from his pocket. Tapped Benito's shirt front with it.

"Buy a little Gould and Curry.... I've just had a tip that it will rise." He hurried on.

Windham let his clients wait that afternoon. He took a walk toward Twin Peaks on Market street. That lordly, though neglected, thoroughfare began to make pretensions toward commercial activity. Opposite Montgomery street was St. Ignatius Church. Farther down toward the docks were lumber yards and to the west were little shops, mostly one-storied, widely scattered. Chinese laundries, a livery stable or two. The pavements were stretches of boardwalk interspersed with sand or mud, trodden into pa.s.sable trails. Down the broad center ran a track on which for years a dummy engine had labored back and forth, drawing flat cars laden with sand. Now most of the sand hills were leveled above Kearny street. Benito picked his way along the northern side of Market street till he came to Hayes. There the new horse car line ran to Hayes park.

One was just leaving as he reached the corner, so he hopped aboard. As the driver took his fare he nodded cordially. Benito recognized him as a former client.

"Listen," said the fellow, "you did me a good turn once, Mr. Windham.

Now I'll return the compliment." He leaned nearer, whispered. "Buy some Hale and Norcross mining stock. I've got a tip straight from the president. It's going up."

In the spring of '64, Virginia City mines still yielded treasure harvests unbelievable. Windham's bank account had risen to the quarter-million mark. Month by month he watched his a.s.sets grow by leaps more marvelous than even his romantic fancy could fore-vision. Stocks were climbing at a rate which raised the value of each share $100 every thirty days.

San Francisco's Stock and Exchange Board, the leading of the three such inst.i.tutions, had quarters in the Montgomery block. Electric telegraphs, which flashed its stock quotations round the world, made it a money power in London, Paris and New York.

Benito had a home now in South Park, the city's new, exclusive residence section. From there the Omnibus Street Railway Company, in which he was a large stockholder, operated horse cars to North Beach. He wore a high hat now and spectacles. There were touches of gray in his hair.

As he entered the exchange, a nimble-fingered Morse-operator was marking figures on a blackboard.

Windham heard his name called; turning, met the outstretched hand of William Ralston. They chatted for a time on current matters. There was to be a Merchants' Exchange. Already ground was broken for the building.

The Bank of California, one of Ralston's enterprises, would soon open its doors. Ralston was in a dozen ventures, all of them constructive, public spirited. He counted his friends by the hundreds. Suddenly he turned from contemplation of the blackboard to Benito.

"Carrying much Virginia City nowadays?"

Benito told him. Ralston knit his brow, deliberating. Then he said with crisp decision, "Better start unloading soon, my son."

Benito was surprised; expostulated. Ophir, Gould and Curry, Savage were as steady as a rock. He didn't want to lose a "bag of money." Ralston heard him, nodded curtly, walked away. Disturbed, rebellious, Benito quit the place. He wanted quiet to digest the older man's advice.

Ralston had the name of making few mistakes. Restlessly Benito sought an answer to his problem. In the end he went home undecided and retired dinnerless, explaining that he had a headache. He awoke with a fever the next morning. Alice, frightened by his haggard eyes, sent Po Lun for a doctor.

CHAPTER LX

THE SHATTERED BUBBLE

Benito looked up from his pillows, tried to rise and found that he had not the strength. Someone was holding his wrist. Oh, yes, Dr. Beverly Cole. Behind him stood Alice and Robert.... How tall the boy looked beside his little mother! They seemed to be tired, worried. And Alice had tears in her eyes.

He heard the doctor's voice afar off, saying, "Yes, he'll live. The danger's over--barring complications." Once more his senses drifted, slept.

In the morning Po Lun brought a cup of broth and fed him with a spoon.

"Long time you been plenty sick," the Chinaman replied to his interrogation.

"Where's Alice?"

"She go 'sleep 'bout daylight.... She plenty ti'ed. Ebely night she sit up while you talk clazy talk."

"You mean I've been delirious, Po Lun?"

The Chinese nodded. "You get well now plitty soon," he said soothingly and, with the empty cup, stole softly out. After a time Alice came, rejoiced to find him awake. The boy, on his way to school, poked a bright morning face in at the door and called out, "h.e.l.lo, dad! Better, ain't you?"

"Yes, Robert," said Benito. When the boy had gone he turned to Alice.

"How long have I been ill?"

"Less than a fortnight--though it seems an age." She took his hand and cried a little. But they were happy tears. He stroked her hair with a hand that seemed strangely heavy.

Three weeks later, hollow-eyed, a little shaky, but eager to be back at work, Benito returned to his office. A press of work engaged him through the morning hours. But at noon, he wandered out into the bright June sunshine, walking about and greeting old friends. At the Russ House Cafe, where he lunched, William Ralston greeted him cordially.

"How is the war going?" Windham asked. "I've been laid up for a month--rather out of the running."

"Well, they're devilish hard fighters, those Confederates. And Lee's a master strategist.... But we've the money, Windham. That's what counts.

The Union owes a lot to California and Nevada."

"Nevada!" with the word came sudden recollection. "That reminds me, Ralston.... How are stocks?"

But the banker, with a muttered excuse hastened off.

Benito finished his coffee, smoked a cigarette and made his way again into the street.

Presently he went into the stock exchange, almost deserted now, after the close of the morning session. O'Brien was there, smoking a long black cigar and chatting in his boisterous, confidential way with Asbury Harpending. The latter was babbling in real estate.