The professor and the rifleman had found themselves on the morning ferry to Oakland, followed by the train to Sacramento. Although they had a few options, the two men had chosen that route out of San Francisco. They had speculated during the travel as to what manner of escape their other pardners had chosen. But neither the Texan nor the Easterner could be sure that the others had even stayed together, let alone which direction they had fled.

After the night of battle with the Tongs, all of the men had returned to their apartment, drained. They needed rest, they needed their belongings. They got none of the former; fortunately they got most of the latter before the boo how doy had arrived. The supply of the black-robed highbinders seemed endless. Despite their lingering wounds and fatigue, the men managed to secure their belongings, and spilt up before the highbinders could pin them down in the apartment. Thanks to the professor for arguing the need for a lookout, as Cole Trayne had spotted the hatchet-men advancing from his perch at the apartment window overlooking the alley.

Now, the two pards breathe deeply as the locomotive's breaks grind against the rails, bringing all of its cars to a halt at Sacramento station. Both Jacob and Earnest felt confident that none of the boo how doy had followed them on the ferry or the train. Probably, the Tongs were satisfied to be rid of heroes who had dared to disrupt their business. Across the bay, perhaps, the same as across the ocean.

The train empties, with Richardsen and Ringgenberg among those disembarking, as the railway attendants clear all the passenger cars at the termination point of this passage.

It is a cool April noon in the vast rail yard. The railway office, the saloon, the hotel, the street merchants . . . all abuzz.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:53, Sun 07 Oct 2018.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg # 1):

"Hope ev'rybody else got out've 'Frisco all right," Jacob remarked to Earnest as the twosome were exiting the train-car that had carried them to Sacramento. The Texan was feeling better, having slept some during the train ride once he had satisfied himself that their foes had given up the chase. He rested his long-arm in its leather scabbard across his right shoulder and carried his other loose belongings in a canvas duffel bag, having turned down a porter's offer to help him with his belongings.

"Footloose an' fancy-free -- reckon that's us, ain't it, Perfesser?" he remarked to Earnest, grinning as he did so. Just about now the Texan was cresting on a wave of good humor, brought on as a result of his having survived the serious-minded efforts of many black-clad heathens to kill him. "Reckon that sounds better'n what we'd say back home -- 'bout our still bein' above snakes, or some such."

Jacob glanced around at the hustle and bustle of those making their way through the train-yard. It seemed to him that most of these other folks had a pretty good idea where they were going, and were in a rush to get there -- unlike Earnest and himself. The rifleman supposed that being around so many people must come naturally to the easterner, but it made the Texan -- who was more at home in sparsely-populated, wide-open spaces -- a mite fidgety.

"What's yer druthers, Perfesser?" he asked, turning to his traveling companion. "Me, I reckon I'd be inclined to either head for a hoe-tell an' git a room, or else stop off in a saloon an' have a drink or two, to cely-brate our good fortune."

During their time together Jacob had come to respect the easterner's cool head and thoughtful judgment, and the rifleman was willing to let Earnest decide where they should mosey . . .


OOC: Edit: Nothing substantive -- fixed a couple of typos.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:11, Mon 08 Oct 2018.

In reply to Jacob Richardsen (msg # 2):

Earnest is very glad to have put distance between them and San Francisco, and he answers his compatriot with his characteristic grin.

Well the others were equally motivated and capable, so I'm sure they are fine... besides, they didn't have me to drag along!

As his trunk is unloaded, he grabs one side and looks to Jacob and nods to the other trunk handle.

Do you mind? We should get a room first so we can drop this thing off... then a drink is definitely in order!

In reply to Earnest Nicholas Samuel Ringgenberg (msg # 3):

"Makes sense," Jacob replied, nodding his agreement that they should rent a room so that they could drop off their baggage before heading over to a saloon.

Keeping his Winchester resting on his shoulder, he bent down to pick up one end of Earnest's trunk, resting his own duffel bag atop it. "Damnaeshun, Perfesser!" he exclaimed as he straightened up.

"This thing shore 'nuff weighs a heap! I like to have pulled my back out when I lifted up on it. You must have a whole wagonload of books in here."

"How many books can one man read, any damn way?" the Texan asked, chuckling so as to let Earnest know that his griping was all in good fun.

Jacob glanced around. "You got any idea as to which hoe-tel we oughtta head towards? Or should we ask one of the porters?"

---

OOC:

Earnest, I have made a bit of an assumption that your (IC) trunk is heavy, as if it is filled with books (and maybe a few clothes and other odds and ends). If I am incorrect about this, just let me know, and I shall cheerfully edit. :)

In reply to Jacob Richardsen (msg # 4):

Earnest chuckles back at his friend.

Heh! Not many books, but I have my various kits... I am a man of science after all! Let's ask a porter about hotels...

Earnest directs them to a respectable looking porter.

Excuse me my good man, can you point us to a decent hotel close by please?

---

OOC:

The trunk is not too heavy, but it wouldn't be light either! Your comment is fine as-is.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:59, Tue 09 Oct 2018.

In reply to Earnest Nicholas Samuel Ringgenberg (msg # 5):

As Ringgenberg approaches the porter, with Richardsen hefting the other end of the steamer trunk, the middle-aged negro visually inspects the easterner from head to toe.

He smiles, perhaps unused by being asked for anything so politely.

"Yonder," is all the man says, thumbing the direction over his right shoulder.

Focusing his eyes, the professor sees a two story hotel straight ahead. The Stockton.