Where a spring gushed forth and furnished water to the ships, Juan Fuller had his washhouse.  Within a stone’s throw was the grist mill of Daniel Sill where a mule turned, with the frequent interruptions of his balky temperament, a crude and ponderous treadmill.  Grain laden ox-carts stood along the road before it.

Farther down was Finch’s, better known as John the Tinker’s bowling alley; Cooper’s groggery, nicknamed “Jack the Sailor’s,” Vioget’s house, later to be Yerba Buena’s first hotel.  The new warehouse of William Leidesdorff stood close to the waterline and, at the head of the plaza, the customs house built by Indians at the governor’s order looked down on the shipping.

Benito reined his horse as he reached the Plaza where a dozen other mounts were tethered and left his steed to crop the short grass without the formality of hitching.  He remembered how, nine years ago, Don Jacob Primer Leese had given a grand ball to celebrate the completion of his wooden casa, the first of its kind in Yerba Buena.  There had been music and feasting with barbecued meats and the firing of guns to commemorate the fourth of July which was the birth of Americano independence.  Long ago Leese had moved his quarters farther from the beach and sold his famous casa to the Hudson’s Bay company.  Half perfunctorily, young Windham made his way there, entered and sat down in the big trading room where sailormen were usually assembled to discourse profanely of the perils of the sea.  Benito liked to hear them and to listen to the drunken boasts of Factor William Rae, who threatened that his company would drive all Yankee traders out of California.  Sometimes Spear would be there, sardonically witty, drinking heavily but never befuddled by his liquor.  But today the place was silent, practically deserted so Benito, after a glass of fiery Scotch liquor with the factor, made his way into the road again.  There a hand fell on his shoulder and Spear’s hearty voice saluted him: 

“How fares it at the ranch, Camerado?”

“Moderately,” the young man answered, “for my mother waits impatiently the coming of my father.  She is very lonely since my uncle died.  Though Inez tries to comfort her, she, too, is apprehensive.  The time set by my father for home-coming is long past.”

“It is the way of women,” Spear said gently.  “Give them my respects.  If you ride toward home I will accompany you a portion of the way.”

Benito turned an almost furtive glance on his companion.  “Not yet,” ... he answered hastily, “a thousand pardons, senor.  I have other errands here.”

He nodded half impatiently and made his way along the embarcadero.  Spear saw him turn into the drinking place of Cooper.

A stranger caught Spear’s glance and smiled significantly.  “I saw the lad last night at poker with a crowd that’s not above a crooked deal....  Someone should stop him.”  In the voice was tentative suggestion.