— You are heading to San Francisco? — asked Charlie.
— You bet I am. Four months I’ve been away, and the closer I get I can’t hardly believe it. I got it all worked out to the last detail.
— Got what worked out?
— All the things I’m going to do. — We did not ask that he elaborate, but he needed no invitation to continue. — First thing I’m going to do is rent a clean room, up high so I can look down and see everything as it passes. The second thing I’m going to do is call for a piping hot bath. Third thing is I’m going to sit in it with the window open and listen to the town. Fourth thing I’m going to do is have a shave, to the bare cheek, and a haircut, close-cropped and parted. Fifth thing I’m going to do is buy a new outfit from the hat to the boots. Shirt, undershirt, pants, stockings, all of it.
— I have to go to the toilet. — Charlie interrupted, and he walked away into the forest. The prospector was undisturbed by my brother’s rudeness and in fact did not appear to notice it. He was staring into the fire as he spoke; he, probably would have continued talking even I had left:
— Sixth thing Im going to do is eat a steak as big as my head. Seventh thing I’m going to do is get very, very drunk. Eighth thing I’m going to do is get a pretty girl and lie down a while. Ninth thing I’m going to do is talk with her about her life, and she’ll ask about mine, and we’ll go back and forth like this, civilized and properly. Tenth thing I’m going to do is no one’s business in the world but my own. Eleventh thing I’m going to do is send her away and stretch out in the clean, soft bed, like this. — He stretched out his arms as wide as he was able. — Twelfth thing, boy, I’m going to sleep and sleep and sleep!