' Hello! What's
that?"
It was the swish and splutter of hoofs on the road before the door. The
Sacramento coach! In an instant every man was expectant, and Starbuck
darted outside on the platform. Then there was the usual greeting and
bustle, the hurried ingress of thirsty passengers into the saloon, and a
pause. Uncle Jim returned, excitedly and pantingly. "Look yer, boys! Ef
this ain't the richest thing out! They say there's two more relations o'
Spindler's on the coach, come down as express freight, consigned,--d'ye
hear?--consigned to Spindler!"
"Stiffs, in coffins?" suggested an eager voice.
"I didn't get to hear more. But here they are."
There was the sudden irruption of a laughing, curious crowd into the
bar-room, led by Yuba Bill, the driver. Then the crowd parted, and
out of their midst stepped two children, a boy and a girl, the oldest
apparently of not more than six years, holding each other's hands. They
were coarsely yet cleanly dressed, and with a certain uniform precision
that suggested formal charity.
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