Brown, like Keeler, was to take the stage to Nevada City on the morrow,
provided with a fee for current expenses.
"Well," said Palmer, "I am glad for my part that the California gold
craze is coming to an end. When the farmers down in the Sacramento
Valley get the upper hand, they will stop hydraulic mining, for it keeps
covering their good soil with sand and clay. The Government authorities
say we are filling up San Francisco Bay, too; so Uncle Sam is going to
step in and do something. Then those rowdies along Kanaka Creek and all
the other bad men in this country will have to move on."
"And so will the rest of us," smiled Francis. "A man who has made his
pile can afford to retire. But what about Keeler here, and me?"
"Well," persisted Palmer, "I think Will Cummins was right in wanting to
leave the gold fields. Gold makes people crazy. Half our gamblers and
thieves would be decent men in a decent community."
"Mr. Palmer means," said Keeler, "that Pat Flynn, who is a good
Democrat, but who doesn't pay back the fifty dollars he borrowed from
Mr. Palmer last winter, would be a better Democrat back in Connecticut,
making wooden hams and nutmegs.
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