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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12560 ***
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 12560-h.htm or 12560-h.zip:
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/5/6/12560/12560-h/12560-h.htm)
+      or
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/5/6/12560/12560-h.zip)
+
+
+
+
+
+PORT O' GOLD
+
+A History-Romance of the San Francisco Argonauts
+
+LOUIS J. STELLMAN
+
+1922
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: As they looked the sunlight triumphed, scattering
+the fog into queer floating shapes, luminous and fraught with weird
+suggestions.... One might have thought a splendid city lay before
+them, ... impalpable, yet triumphant, with its hint of destiny.]
+
+
+
+
+
+     TO THE CITY OF MY ADOPTION AND REBIRTH
+                  SAN FRANCISCO
+
+     Oft from my window have I seen the day
+     Break o'er thy roofs and towers like a dream
+     In mystic silver, mirrored by the Bay,
+     Bedecked with shadow craft ... and then a gleam
+     Of golden sunlight cleaving swiftly sure
+     Some narrow cloud-rift--limning hill or plain
+     With flecks of gypsy-radiance that endure
+     But for the moment and are gone again.
+
+     Then I have ventured on thy strident streets,
+     Mid whir of traffic in the vibrant hour
+     When Commerce with its clashing cymbal greets
+     The mighty Mammon in his pomp of power....
+     And in the quiet dusk of eventide,
+     As wearied toilers quit the marts of Trade,
+     Have I been of their pageant--or allied
+     With Passion's revel in the Night Parade.
+
+     Oh, I have known thee in a thousand moods
+     And lived a thousand lives within thy bounds;
+     Adventured with the throng that laughs or broods,
+     Trod all thy cloisters and thy pleasure grounds,
+     Seen thee, in travail from the fiery torch,
+     Betrayed by Greed, smirched by thy sons' disgrace--
+     Rise with a spirit that no flame can scorch
+     To make thyself a new and honored place.
+
+     Ah, Good Gray City! Let me sing thy song
+     Of western splendor, vigorous and bold;
+     In vice or virtue unashamed and strong--
+     Stormy of mien but with a heart of gold!
+     I love thee, San Francisco; I am proud
+     Of all thy scars and trophies, praise or blame
+     And from thy wind-swept hills I cry aloud
+     The everlasting glory of thy name.
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+This is the story of San Francisco. When a newspaper editor summoned me
+from the mountains to write a serial he said:
+
+"I've sent for you because I believe you love this city more than any
+other writer of my acquaintance or knowledge. And I believe the true
+story of San Francisco will make a more dramatic, vivid, human narrative
+than any fiction I've ever read.
+
+"Take all the time you want. Get everything straight, and _put all
+you've got into this story_. I'm going to wake up the town with it."
+
+To the best of my ability, I followed the editor's instructions. He
+declared himself satisfied. The public responded generously. The serial
+was a success.
+
+But, ah! I wish I might have written it much better ... or that Robert
+Louis Stevenson, for instance, might have done it in my stead.
+
+"Port O' Gold" is history with a fiction thread to string its episodes
+upon. Most of the characters are men and women who have lived and played
+their parts exactly as described herein. The background and chronology
+are as accurate as extensive and painstaking research can make them.
+
+People have informed me that my fictional characters, vide Benito, "took
+hold of them" more than the "real ones" ... which is natural enough,
+perhaps, since they are my own brain-children, while the others are
+merely adopted. Nor is this anything to be deplored. The writer, after
+all, is first an entertainer. Indirectly he may edify, inform or teach.
+My only claim is that I've tried to tell the story of the city that I
+love as truly and attractively as I was able. My only hope is that I
+have been worthy of the task.
+
+Valuable aid in the accumulation of historical data for this volume was
+given by:
+
+Robert Rea, librarian, San Francisco Public Library;
+
+Mary A. Byrne, manager Reference Department, San Francisco Public
+Library;
+
+John Howell and John J. Newbegin, booksellers and collectors of
+Californiana, for whose cheerful interest and many courtesies the author
+is sincerely grateful.
+
+THE AUTHOR.
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+       I Yerba Buena.
+      II The Gambled Patrimony.
+     III The Gringo Ships.
+      IV American Occupation.
+       V An Offer and a Threat.
+      VI The First Election.
+     VII The Rancheros Revolt.
+    VIII McTurpin's Coup.
+      IX The Elopement.
+       X Hull "Capitulates".
+      XI San Francisco is Named.
+     XII The New York Volunteers.
+    XIII The "Sydney Ducks".
+     XIV The Auction on the Beach.
+      XV The Beginning of Law.
+     XVI Gold! Gold! Gold!
+    XVII The Quest of Fortune.
+   XVIII News of Benito.
+     XIX The Veiled Woman.
+      XX A Call in the Night.
+     XXI Outfacing the Enemy.
+    XXII Shots in the Dark.
+   XXIII The New Arrival.
+    XXIV The Chaos of '49.
+     XXV Retrieving a Birthright.
+    XXVI Fire! Fire! Fire!
+   XXVII Politics and a Warning.
+  XXVIII On the Trail of McTurpin.
+    XXIX The Squatter Conspiracy.
+     XXX "Growing Pains".
+    XXXI The Vigilance Committee.
+   XXXII The People's Jury.
+  XXXIII The Reckoning.
+   XXXIV The Hanging of Jenkins.
+    XXXV The People and the Law.
+   XXXVI Fevers of Finance.
+  XXXVII "Give Us Our Savings".
+ XXXVIII King Starts the Bulletin.
+   XXXIX Richardson and Cora.
+      XL The Storm Gathers.
+     XLI The Fateful Encounter.
+    XLII The Committee Organizes.
+   XLIII Governor Johnson Mediates.
+    XLIV The Truce is Broken.
+     XLV The Committee Strikes.
+    XLVI Retribution.
+   XLVII Hints of Civil War.
+  XLVIII Sherman Resigns.
+    XLIX Terry Stabs Hopkins.
+       L The Committee Disbands.
+      LI Senator Broderick.
+     LII A Trip to Chinatown.
+    LIII Enter Po Lun.
+     LIV The "Field of Honor".
+      LV The Southern Plot.
+     LVI Some War Reactions.
+    LVII Waters Pays the Price.
+   LVIII McTurpin Turns Informer.
+     LIX The Comstock Furore.
+      LX The Shattered Bubble.
+     LXI Desperate Finance.
+    LXII Adolph Sutro's Tunnel.
+   LXIII Lees Solves a Mystery.
+    LXIV An Idol Topples.
+     LXV Industrial Unrest.
+    LXVI The Pick-Handle Parade.
+   LXVII Dennis Kearney.
+  LXVIII The Woman Reporter.
+    LXIX A New Generation.
+     LXX Robert and Maizie.
+    LXXI The Blind Boss.
+   LXXII Fate Takes a Hand.
+  LXXIII The Return.
+   LXXIV The "Reformer".
+    LXXV A Nocturnal Adventure.
+   LXXVI Politics and Romance.
+  LXXVII Aleta's Problem.
+ LXXVIII The Fateful Morn.
+   LXXIX The Turmoil.
+    LXXX Aftermath.
+   LXXXI Readjustment.
+  LXXXII At Bay.
+ LXXXIII In the Toils.
+  LXXXIV The Net Closes.
+   LXXXV The Seven Plagues.
+  LXXXVI A New City Government.
+ LXXXVII Norah Finds Out.
+LXXXVIII The Shooting of Heney.
+  LXXXIX Defeat of the Prosecution.
+      XC The Measure of Redemption.
+     XCI Conclusion.
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+As they looked, the sunlight triumphed, scattering the fog into queer,
+floating shapes, luminous and fraught with weird suggestions.... One
+might have thought a splendid city lay before them, ... impalpable, yet
+triumphant, with its hint of destiny.
+
+"Ah, Senor," Inez' smile had faded, ... "they have cause for hatred".
+
+Men with shovels, leveling the sand-hills, piled the wagons high with
+shimmering grains which were ... dumped into pile-surrounded bogs. San
+Francisco reached farther and farther out into the bay.
+
+Samuel Brannan rode through the streets, holding a pint flask of
+gold-dust in one hand ... and whooping like a madman: "Gold! Gold! Gold!
+From the American River".
+
+Passersby who laughed at the inscription witnessed simultaneously the
+rescue of an almost submerged donkey by means of an improvised derrick.
+
+Broderick's commanding figure was seen rushing hither and thither....
+"You and two others. Blow up or pull down that building," he indicated a
+sprawling, ramshackle structure.
+
+There sat the redoubtable captain, all the ... austerity of his West
+Point manner melted in the indignity of sneezes and wheezes.... "Money!
+God Almighty! Sherman, there's not a loose dollar in town".
+
+"Draw and defend yourself," he said loudly. He shut his eyes and a
+little puff of smoke seemed to spring from the end of his fingers,
+followed ... by a sharp report.
+
+In front of the building on a high platform, two men stood.... A
+half-suppressed roar went up from the throng.
+
+Terry, who had taken careful aim, now fired. Broderick staggered,
+recovered himself. Slowly he sank to one knee.
+
+The concourse broke into applause. Then it was hysteria, pandemonium.
+Fifty thousand knew their city was safe for Anti-Slavery.
+
+Half a thousand jobless workers, armed and reckless, marched toward the
+docks. They bore torches.... "A hell-bent crew," said Ellis.
+
+"My boy ... you're wasting your time as a reporter. Listen," he laid a
+hand upon Francisco's knee. "I've a job for you.... The new Mayor will
+need a secretary".
+
+"Perhaps I shall find me a man--big, strong, impressive--with a mind
+easily led.... Then I shall train him to be a leader.... I shall furnish
+the brain".
+
+"I am going South," Francisco told his son. "I cannot bear this".
+
+All at once he stepped forward.... Tears were streaming down his face.
+Then the judge's question, clearly heard, "What is your plea?" "Guilty!"
+Ruef returned.
+
+A HISTORY-ROMANCE OF THE SAN FRANCISCO ARGONAUTS
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE
+
+THE VISION
+
+"Blessed be the Saints. It is the Punta de Los Reyes." The speaker was a
+bearded man of middle years. A certain nobleness about him like an
+ermine garment of authority was purely of the spirit, for he was neither
+of imposing height nor of commanding presence. His clothing hung about
+him loosely and recent illness had drawn haggard lines upon his face.
+But his eyes flashed like an eagle's, and the hand which pointed
+northward, though it trembled, had the fine dramatic grace of one who
+leads in its imperious gesture. He swept from his head the once
+magnificent hat with its scarred velour and windtorn plume, bending one
+knee in a movement of silent reverence and thanksgiving. This was Gaspar
+de Portola, October 31,1769.
+
+Near him stood his aides. All of them were travel-stained, careworn with
+hardship and fatigue. Following their chieftain they uncovered and
+knelt. To one side and a little below the apex of a rocky promontory
+that contained the little group, Christian Indians, muleteers and
+soldados crossed themselves and looked up questioningly. In a dozen
+litters sick men tossed and moaned. A mule brayed raucously, startling
+flocks of wild geese to flight from nearby cliffs, a herd of deer on a
+mad stampede inland.
+
+Portola rose and swept the horizon with his half-fevered gaze. To the
+south lay the rugged shore line with its sea-corroded cliffs, indented
+at one point into a half-moon of glistening beach and sweeping on again
+into vanishing and reappearing shapes of mist.
+
+Far to the northwest a giant arm of land reached out into the water,
+high and stark and rocky; further on a group of white farallones lay in
+the tossing foam and over them great flocks of seabirds dipped and
+circled. Finally, along the coast to the northward, they descried those
+chalk cliffs which Francis Drake had aptly named New Albion, and still
+beyond, what seemed to be the mouth of an inlet.
+
+Dispute sprang up among them. Since July 14th they had been searching
+between this place and San Diego for the port of Monterey. "Perhaps this
+is the place," said Crespi, the priest, reluctantly. "Vizcaino may have
+been amiss when he located it in 37 degrees."
+
+"Yes," spoke Captain Fernando de Rivera, "these explorers are careless
+dogs. One seldom finds the places they map out so gaily. And what do
+they care who dies of the hunger or scurvy--drinking their flagons in
+Mexico or Madrid? A curse, say I, on the lot of them."
+
+Portola turned an irritated glance of disapproval on his henchmen. "What
+say you, my pathfinder?" he addressed Sergeant Jose Ortega, chief
+of Scouts.
+
+"That no one may be certain, your excellency," the scout-chief answered.
+"But," his eyes met those of his commander with a look of grim
+significance, "one may learn."
+
+Portola laid a hand almost affectionately on the other's leather-covered
+shoulder. Here was a man after his heart. Always he had been ahead of
+the van, selecting camp sites, clearing ways through impenetrable brush,
+fighting off hostile savages. Now, ill and hungry as he was, for rations
+had for several days been down to four tortillas per man, Ortega was
+ready to set forth again.
+
+"You had better rest, Saldado. You are far from well. Start to-morrow."
+
+Ortega shrugged. "Meanwhile they mutter," his eyes jerked to the
+indiscriminate company below.
+
+"When men march and have a motive, they forget their grievances. When
+they lie in camp the devil stalks about and puts mischief into their
+thought. I have been a soldier for fourteen years, your excellency."
+
+"And I for thirty," said the other dryly, but he smiled. "You are
+right, my sergeant. Go. And may your patron saint, the reverend father
+of Assisi, aid you."
+
+Ortega saluted and withdrew. "I will require three days with your
+excellency's grace," he said. Portola nodded and observed Ortega's sharp
+commands wheel a dozen mounted soldados into line. They galloped past
+him, their lances at salute and dashed with a clatter of hoofs into the
+valley below.
+
+Young Francisco Garvez spurred his big mare forward till he rode beside
+the sergeant. A tall, half-lanky lad he was with the eager prescience of
+youth, its dreams and something of its shyness hidden in the dark
+alertness of his mien.
+
+"Whither now, my sergeant?" he inquired with a trace of pertness as he
+laid a hand upon the other's pommel. "Do we search again for that
+elusive Monterey? Methinks Vizcaino dreamed it in his cups." He smiled,
+a flash of strong, white teeth relieving the half-weary relaxation of
+his features, and Ortega turning, answered him:
+
+"Perhaps the good St. Francis hid it from our eyes--that we might first
+discover this puerto christened in his honor. We have three days to
+reach the Punta de los Reyes, which Vizcaino named for the kings
+of Cologne."
+
+For a time the two rode on in silence. Then young Garvez muttered: "It
+is well for Portola that your soldados love you.... Else the expedition
+had not come thus far." The sergeant looked at his companion
+smolderingly, but he did not speak. He knew as well as anyone that the
+Governor's life was in danger; that conspiracy was in the air. And it
+was for this he had taken with him all the stronger malcontents. Yes,
+they loved him--whatever treachery might have brooded in their minds.
+His eyes kindled with the knowledge. He led them at a good pace forward
+over hill and dale, through rough and briery undergrowth, fording here
+and there a stream, spurring tired horses over spans of dragging sand
+until darkness made further progress impossible. But with the break of
+day he was on again after a scanty meal. Just at sunrise he led his
+party up to a commanding headland where he paused to rest. His winded
+mount and that of Garvez panted side by side upon the crest while his
+troopers, single file, picked their way up the narrow trail. Below them
+was the Bay of San Francisco guarded by the swirling narrows of the
+Golden Gate. And over the brown hilltops of the Contra Costa a great
+golden ball of sunlight battled with the lacy mists of dawn.
+
+It was a picture to impress one with its mystery and magnificence. The
+two men gazed upon it with an oddly blended sense of awe and exultation.
+And as they looked the sunlight triumphed, scattering the fog into queer
+floating shapes, luminous and fraught with weird suggestions of castle,
+dome, of turret, minaret and towering spire. One might have thought a
+splendid city lay before them in the barren cove of sand-dunes, a city
+impalpable, yet triumphant, with its hint of destiny; translucent silver
+and gold, shifting and amazing--gone in a flash as the sun's full
+radiance burst forth through the vapor-screen.
+
+"It was like a sign from Heaven!" Garvez breathed.
+
+Ortega crossed himself. The younger man went on, "Something like a voice
+within me seemed to say 'Here shall you find your home--you and your
+children and their children's children.'"
+
+Ortega looked down at the dawn-gold on the waters and the tree-ringed
+cove. Here and there small herds of deer drank from a stream or browsed
+upon the scant verdure of sandy meadows. In a distant grove a score of
+Indian tepees raised their cone shapes to the sky; lazy plumes of
+blue-white smoke curled upward. Canoes, rafts of tules, skillfully bound
+together, carried dark-skinned natives over wind-tossed waters, the ends
+of their double paddles flashing in the sun.
+
+"One may not know the ways of God." Ortega spoke a trifle bruskly. "What
+is plain to me is that we cannot journey farther. This estero cuts our
+path in two. And in three days we cannot circle it to reach the Contra
+Costa. We must return and make report to the commander."
+
+He wheeled and shouted a command to his troopers. The cavalcade rode
+south but young Francisco turning in the saddle cast a farewell glance
+toward the shining bay. "Port O' Gold!" he whispered raptly, "some day
+men shall know your fame around the world!"
+
+
+
+PORT O' GOLD
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+YERBA BUENA
+
+It was 1845. Three quarters of a century had passed since young
+Francisco Garvez, as he rode beside Portola's chief of Scouts, glimpsed
+the mystic vision of a city rising from the sandy shores of San
+Francisco Bay.
+
+Garvez, so tradition held, had taken for his spouse an Indian maiden
+educated by the mission padres of far San Diego. For his service as
+soldado of old Spain he had been granted many acres near the Mission of
+Dolores and his son, through marriage, had combined this with another
+large estate. There a second generation of the Garvez family had looked
+down from a palatial hacienda upon spreading grain-fields, wide-reaching
+pastures and corrals of blooded stock. They had seen the Mission era wax
+and wane and Mexico cast off the governmental shackles of Madrid. They
+had looked askance upon the coming of the "Gringo" and Francisco Garvez
+II, in the feebleness of age, had railed against the destiny that gave
+his youngest daughter to a Yankee engineer. He had bade her choose
+between allegiance to an honored race and exile with one whom he termed
+an unknown, alien interloper. But in the end he had forgiven, when she
+chose, as is the wont of women, Love's eternal path. Thus the Garvez
+rancho, at his death became the Windham ranch and there dwelt Dona Anita
+with her children Inez and Benito, for her husband, "Don Roberto"
+Windham lingered with an engineering expedition in the wilds of Oregon.
+
+Just nineteen was young Benito, straight and slim, combining in his
+fledgling soul the austere heritage of Anglo-Saxons with the leaping
+fires of Castile. Fondly, yet with something anxious in her glance, his
+mother watched the boy as he sprang nimbly to the saddle of his favorite
+horse. He was like her husband, strong and self-reliant. Yet,--she
+sighed involuntarily with the thought,--he had much of the manner of her
+handsome and ill-fated brother, Don Diego, victim of a duel that had
+followed cards and wine.
+
+"Why so troubled, madre mia?" The little hand of Inez stole into her
+mother's reassuringly. "Is it that you fear for our Benito when he rides
+among the Gringos of the puebla?"
+
+Her dark crowned and exquisite head rose proudly and her eyes flashed as
+she watched her brother riding with the grace of splendid horsemanship
+toward the distant town of Yerba Buena. "He can take care of himself,"
+she ended with, a toss of her head.
+
+"To be sure, my little one," the Dona Windham answered smiling. No doubt
+it was a foolish apprehension she decided. If only the Dona Briones who
+lived on a ranchita near the bay-shore did not gossip so of the
+Americano games of chance. And if only she might know what took Benito
+there so frequently.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Benito spurred his horse toward the puebla. A well-filled purse jingled
+in his pocket and now and then he tossed a silver coin to some
+importuning Indian along the road. As he passed the little ranch-house
+of Dona Briones he waved his hat gaily in answer to her invitation to
+stop. Benito called her Tia Juana. Large and motherly she was, a woman
+of untiring energy who, all alone cultivated the ranchito which supplied
+milk, butter, eggs and vegetables to ships which anchored in the cove of
+Yerba Buena. She was the friend of all sick and unfortunate beings, the
+secret ally of deserting sailors whom she often hid from searching
+parties. Benito was her special favorite and now she sighed and shook
+her head as he rode on. She had heard of his losses at the gringo game
+called "pokkere." She mistrusted it together with all other alien
+machinations.
+
+Benito reached the little hamlet dreaming in the sun, a welter of
+scrambled habitations. There was the little ship's cabin, called Kent
+Hall, where dwelt that genial spirit, Nathan Spear, his father's friend.
+Nearby was the dwelling, carpenter and blacksmith shop of Calvert Davis;
+the homes of Victor Pruden, French savant and secretary to Governor
+Alvarado; Thompson the hide trader who married Concepcion Avila,
+reigning beauty of her day; Stephen Smith, pioneer saw-miller, who
+brought the first pianos to California.
+
+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.
+
+"I've no authority," Spear answered shortly. He turned his back upon the
+other and strode toward the plaza.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE GAMBLED PATRIMONY
+
+The stranger took his way toward the waterfront and into "Jack the
+Sailor's." Cooper, who had earned this nickname, stood behind a counter
+of rough boards polishing its top with a much soiled towel. He hailed
+the newcomer eagerly. "Hello, Alvin Potts! What brought you here? And
+how is all at Monterey?"
+
+"All's well enough," said Potts, concisely. He glanced about. Several
+crude structures, scarcely deserving the name of tables, were centers of
+interest for rings of rough and ill-assorted men. There were
+loud-voiced, bearded fellows from the whaler's crew. In tarpaulins and
+caps pulled low upon their brows; swarthy Russians with oily, brutish
+faces and slow movements--relics of the abandoned colony at Fort Ross;
+suave, soft-spoken Spaniards in broad-brimmed hats, braided short coats
+and laced trousers tucked into shining boots; vaqueros with colored
+handkerchiefs about their heads and sashes around their middles. A few
+Americans were sprinkled here and there. Usually one player at each
+table was of the sleek and graceful type, which marks the gambler. And
+usually he was the winner. Now and then a man threw down his cards,
+pushed a little pile of money to the center of the table and shuffled
+out. Cooper passed between them, serving tall, black bottles from which
+men poured their potions according to impulse; they did not drink in
+unison. Each player snatched a liquid stimulus when the need arose. And
+one whose shaky nerves required many of these spurs was young Benito.
+
+Potts observed the pale face and the hectic, burning eyes with a
+frowning disapproval. Presently he drew John Cooper to one side.
+
+"He's no business here, that lad ... you know it, Jack," Potts said,
+accusingly. The saloon keeper threw wide his arms in a significant
+gesture.
+
+"He won't stay away ... I've told him half a dozen times. No one can
+reason with that headstrong fool."
+
+"Who's that he's playing with?" asked Potts. "I mean the dark one with a
+scar."
+
+An impressive and outstanding figure was the man Potts designated.
+Stocky, sinister of eye and with a mouth whose half-sardonic smile drew
+the lips a little out of line, he combed his thick black hair now and
+then with delicate, long-fingered hands. They had a deftness and a
+lightning energy, those fingers with their perfectly groomed nails,
+which boded little good to his opponents. He sat back calmly in strange
+contrast to the feverish uncontrol of other players. Now and then he
+flashed a swift glance round the circle of his fellow players. Before
+him was a heap of gold and silver. They watched him deal with the
+uncanny skill of a conjurer before Jack Cooper answered.
+
+"That's Aleck McTurpin from Australia. Thought you knew him."
+
+"One of the Sydney coves?"
+
+"Not quite so loud," the other cautioned hastily. "They call him
+that--behind his back. But who's to tell? I'd like to get the lad out of
+his clutches well enough."
+
+"Think I'll watch the game," Potts said, and sauntered to the table. He
+laid a friendly hand on Windham's shoulder. Benito's pile of coin was
+nearly gone. McTurpin dealt. It was a jack-pot, evidently, for a heavy
+stake of gold and silver was upon the center of the board. Benito's hand
+shook as he raised his cards. He reached forth and refilled his glass,
+gulping the contents avidly.
+
+"Dos cartos," he replied in Spanish to the dealer's inquiry. Potts
+glanced at the three cards which Benito had retained. Each was a king.
+
+The young man eyed his first draw with a slight frown and seemed to
+hesitate before he lifted up the second. Then a little sucking gasp came
+from his throat.
+
+"Senor," he began as McTurpin eyed him curiously, "I have little left to
+wager. Luck has been my enemy of late. Yet," he smiled a trembling
+little smile, "I hold certain cards which give me confidence. I should
+like to play a big stake--once, before I leave--"
+
+"How big?" asked McTurpin, coldly, but his eye was eager.
+
+The Spanish-American faced him straightly. "As big as you like, amigo
+... if you will accept my note."
+
+McTurpin's teeth shut with a click. "What security, young fellow?" he
+demanded.
+
+"My ranch," replied Benito. "It is worth, they say, ten thousand of your
+dollars."
+
+McTurpin covered his cards with his hands. "You want to lay me this
+ranch against--what?"
+
+"Five thousand dollars--that is fair enough," Benito answered. He was
+trembling with excitement. McTurpin watched him hawk-like, seeming to
+consider. "Bring us ink and paper, Jack," he called to Cooper, and when
+the latter had complied, he wrote some half a dozen lines upon a sheet.
+
+"Sign that. Get two witnesses ... you, Jack, and this fellow here," he
+indicated Potts imperiously. He laid his cards face down upon the table
+and extracted deftly from some inner pocket a thick roll of greenbacks.
+Slowly, almost meticulously, he counted them before the gaping tableful
+of players. Fifty hundred-dollar bills.
+
+"American greenbacks," he spoke crisply. "A side bet with our friend,
+the Senor Windham." He shoved the money toward the center of the table,
+slightly apart from the rest.
+
+Benito waveringly picked up the pen. It shook in his unsteady fingers.
+"Wait," Potts pleaded. But the young man brooked no intervention. With a
+flourish he affixed his signature. McTurpin picked up the pen as Benito
+dropped it. "Put your name on as a witness," he demanded of the host.
+"Jack the Sailor" shook his head. "I've no part in this," he said, and
+turned his back upon them. "Nor I," Potts answered to a similar
+invitation.
+
+McTurpin took the paper. "Well, it doesn't matter. You've all seen him
+sign it: You ... and you ... and you." His finger pointed to a trio of
+the nearest players, and their nods sufficed him, evidently. He weighted
+the contract with a gold-piece from his own plethoric pile.
+
+"Show down! Show down!" cried the others. Triumphantly Benito laid five
+cards upon the table. Four of them were kings. A little cry of
+satisfaction arose, for sympathy was with the younger player. McTurpin
+sat unmoved. Then he threw an ace upon the table. Followed it with a
+second. Then a third. And, amid wondering murmurs, a fourth.
+
+He reached out his hand for the stakes. Benito sat quite still. The
+victorious light had gone out of his eyes, but not a muscle moved. One
+might have thought him paralyzed or turned to stone by his misfortune.
+McTurpin's hand closed almost stealthily upon the paper. There was a
+smile of cool and calculating satisfaction on his thin lips as he drew
+the stake toward him.
+
+Then with an electrifying suddenness, Benito sprang upon him. "Cheat!"
+he screamed. "You fleeced me like a robber. I knew. I understood it when
+you looked at me like that."
+
+Quick as McTurpin was in parrying attack--for he had frequent need of
+such defense--the onslaught of Benito found him unprepared. He went over
+backward, the young man's fingers on his throat. From the overturned
+table money rattled to the floor and rolled into distant corners.
+Hastily the non-combatants sought a refuge from expected bullets. But
+no pistol barked. McTurpin's strength far overmatched that of the other.
+Instantly he was on his feet. Benito's second rush was countered by a
+blow upon the jaw. The boy fell heavily.
+
+McTurpin smoothed his ruffled plumage and picked up the scattered coins.
+"Take the young idiot home," he said across his shoulder, as he strode
+out. "Pour a little whisky down his throat. He isn't hurt."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE GRINGO SHIPS
+
+Government was but a name in Yerba Buena. A gringo engineer named
+Fremont with a rabble of adventurers had overthrown the valiant Vallejo
+at Sonora and declared a California Republic. He had spiked the cannon
+at the Presidio. And now a gringo sloop-of-war was in the bay, some said
+with orders to reduce the port. Almost simultaneously an English frigate
+came and there were rumors of a war between the Anglo-Saxon nations.
+
+The prefect, Don Rafael Pinto, had already joined the fleeing Governor
+Castro. Commandante Francisco Sanchez, having sent his soldiers to
+augment the Castro forces in the south, was without a garrison and had
+retired to his rancho.
+
+Nevertheless, had the Senora Windham, with her son and daughter, called
+upon Sub-prefect Guerrero in hope of justice. Her rancho was being taken
+from her. Already McTurpin had pre-empted a portion of the grant and
+only the armed opposition of the Windham vaqueros prevented an entire
+dispossession.
+
+Though Guerrero listened, courteous and punctilious, he had obviously no
+power to afford relief. He was a curiously nervous man of polished
+manners whose eyelids twitched at intervals with a sort of slow St.
+Vitus' dance.
+
+"What can I do, Senora?" with a blend of whimsicality and desperation.
+"I am an official without a staff. And Sanchez a commander stripped of
+his soldados." He stepped to the door with them and looked down upon the
+dancing, rippling waters of the bay, where two ships rode.
+
+"Let these gringos fight it out together. This McTurpin is an Inglese,
+I am told, from their far colony across the sea. If the Americanos
+triumph take your claim to them. If not, God save you, my senora.
+I cannot."
+
+Don Guillermo Richardson, the former harbormaster, came up the hill as
+Dona Anita emerged from the Alcalde's office. He was a friend of her
+husband--a gringo--but trusted by the Spanish Californians, many of whom
+he had befriended. To him Mrs. Windham turned half desperately,
+confessing in a rush of words her family's plight. "What is to become of
+us?" she questioned passionately. "Ah, that my Roberto were here! He
+would know how to deal with these desperadoes." She gestured angrily
+toward the sloop-of-war which rode at anchor in the Bay.
+
+"You have nothing to fear, my friend," returned Richardson with a trace
+of asperity. "Commodore Sloat is a gentleman. He is, I understand, to
+seize Monterey and raise the the American flag there tomorrow. Yet his
+instructions are that Californians are to be shown every courtesy."
+
+"And our rancho?" cried the boy. "Will the Americano Capitan restore it
+to us, think you, Don Guillermo?"
+
+"I know not," said the other sadly. "You should have thought of that
+before you gambled it away, my son."
+
+Benito hung his head. Richardson passed on and the trio made their way
+toward the beach. There they found Nathan Spear in excited converse with
+John Cooper and William Leidesdorff.
+
+They were discussing the probability of an occupation by the American
+marines. "If they come ashore," said Leidesdorff, "I'll invite them to
+my new house. There's plenty of rum for all, and we'll drink a toast to
+Fremont and the California Republic as well."
+
+"Hurrah! Hurrah!" came a cheer from several bystanders.
+
+"I invite you all," cried Leidesdorff, waving his hands and almost
+dancing in his eagerness. "Every man-jack of you in all Yerba Buena."
+
+"How about the ladies, Leidesdorff?" called out a sailor.
+
+"Ah, forgive me, Senora, Senorita!" cried the Dane remorsefully. He
+swept off his wide-brimmed hat with an effort, for he had a fashion of
+jamming it very tightly upon his head. He laid a hand enthusiastically
+upon the shoulders of both Spear and Cooper. "It grows better and
+better. Tomorrow, if the Captain is willing," he jerked his head toward
+the Portsmouth, "tomorrow evening we shall have a grand ball. It shall
+celebrate the day of independence."
+
+"But tomorrow is the eighth of July," said Cooper.
+
+"What matter?" Leidesdorff exclaimed, now thoroughly enthusiastic. "It's
+the spirit of the thing that counts, my friends."
+
+A crowd was assembling. Mrs. Windham and her daughter drew instinctively
+aside. Benito stood between them and the growing throng as if to shield
+them from a battery of curious glances.
+
+"Will the ladies accept?" asked Leidesdorff with another exaggerated
+salute.
+
+Senora Windham, haughty and aloof, had framed a stiff refusal, but her
+daughter caught her hand. "Do not antagonize them, mother," she said in
+an undertone. "Let us meet this Gringo Commandante of the ship.
+Perhaps," she smiled archly, "it is not beyond the possibilities I may
+persuade him into giving aid."
+
+The elder woman hesitated, glanced inquiringly at Nathan Spear who stood
+beside them. He nodded. "The ladies will be pleased," he answered in
+their stead. Another cheer met this announcement.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+AMERICAN OCCUPATION
+
+Yerba Buena awoke to the sunrise of July 8, 1846, with a spirit of
+festive anticipation and a certain relief.
+
+Today the American sloop-of-war would land its sailors and marines to
+take possession of the port. Today the last remaining vestige of the
+Latin's dominance would end. A strange flag, curiously gay with stripes
+and stars, would fly above the customs house; strange men in uniforms of
+blue, and golden braid, would occupy the seats of power. Even the name
+of Yerba Buena would be altered, it was said. New Boston probably would
+be its title.
+
+Early morning brought ox-carts laden with gay, curious Spanish ladies
+from surrounding ranches, piquant eager senoritas with vivacious
+gestures of small hands and fluttering fans; senoras plump and placid,
+slower in their movements and with brooding eyes. They wore their
+laciest mantillas, silkiest gowns and daintiest footwear to impress the
+alien invader. And, beside their equipages, like outriders in the
+cortege of a queen, caballeros and vaqueros sat their caracoling steeds.
+
+Sailors from the trade and whaling ships, trappers, hunters and the
+motley populace of Yerba Buena made a colorful and strangely varied
+picture, as they gathered with the rancheros about the Plaza.
+
+At 8 o'clock four boats descended simultaneously from the Portsmouth's
+sides. They were greeted by loud cheers from the Americans on shore and
+watched with excited interest by the others. The boats landed their
+crews near the spring where a sort of wharf had been constructed. They
+returned for more and finally assembled seventy marines, a smaller
+number of sailors and the ship's band. Captain Montgomery, in the full
+dress uniform of a naval commander, reviewed his forces. Beside him
+stood Lieutenant John S. Misroon, large, correct and rather awkward,
+with long, restless arms; a youthful, rosy complexion and serious blue
+eyes. Further back, assembling his marines in marching order, was
+Lieutenant Henry Watson, a smaller man of extraordinary nervous energy.
+Montgomery gave the marching order. Fife and drum struck up a lively air
+and to its strains the feet of Yerba Buena's first invading army kept
+uncertain step as sailors and marines toiled through the sand. Half a
+thousand feet above them stood the quaint adobe customs house, its
+red-tiled roof and drab adobe walls contrasting pleasantly with the
+surrounding greenery of terraced hills. Below it lay the Plaza with its
+flagpole, its hitching racks for horses and oxen.
+
+Here the commander halted his men. "Lieutenant Watson," he addressed the
+senior subaltern, "be so good as to request attendance by the prefect or
+alcalde.... And for heaven's sake, fasten your coat, sir," he added in a
+whispered aside.
+
+Saluting with one hand, fumbling at his buttons with the other, Watson
+marched into the customs house, while the populace waited agape; but he
+returned very soon to report that the building was untenanted. Captain
+Montgomery frowned. He had counted on the pomp and punctilio of a formal
+surrender--a spectacular bit of history that would fashion gallant words
+for a report. "Haul down the flag of Mexico," he said to Lieutenant
+Misroon. "Run up the Stars and Stripes!"
+
+Lieutenant Misroon gazed aloft, then down again, embarrassed. "There is
+no flag, sir," he responded, and Montgomery verified his statement with
+a frowning glance. "Where the devil is it, then?" he asked explosively.
+
+A frightened clerk appeared now at the doorway of the custom house. He
+bowed and scraped before the irate commander. "Pardon, Senor
+Commandante," he said, quaveringly, "the flag of Mexico reposes in a
+trunk with the official papers of the port. I, myself, have seen the
+receiver of customs, Don Rafael Pinto, place it there."
+
+"And where is Don Rafael?"
+
+"Some days ago he joined the Castro forces in the South, Senor."
+
+"Well, well!" Montgomery's tone was sharp; "there must be someone in
+command. Who is he?"
+
+"The Sub-Prefect has ridden to his rancho, Commandante."
+
+"That disposes of the civil authorities," Montgomery reflected, "since
+Port-Captain Ridley is in jail with Fremont's captives." He turned to
+the clerk again. "Is there not a garrison at the Presidio?"
+
+"They have joined the noble Castro," sighed the clerk, recovering his
+equanimity. "There is only the commander Sanchez, Senor. He is also at
+his rancho."
+
+Despite his irritation, Captain Montgomery could not miss the humor of
+the situation. A dry chuckle escaped him. "Run up the flag," he said to
+Lieutenant Misroon, and the latter hastened to comply. An instant later
+the starry banner floated high above their heads. A cheer broke out.
+Hats flew into the air and from the ship's band came the stirring
+strains of America's national air. Then, deep and thunderous, a gun
+spoke on the Portsmouth. Another and another.
+
+Captain Montgomery, stiff and dignified, lifted his hand and amid an
+impressive silence read the proclamation of Commodore Sloat, in which
+all citizens of captured ports were assured of fair and friendly
+treatment and invited to become subjects of the United States. He
+suggested the immediate formation of a town militia. Leidesdorff came
+bustling forward.
+
+"My house is at your service, gentlemen," he said. "And tonight," he
+removed his hat and bowed toward the ladies, "tonight I bid you all to
+be my guests and give our new friends welcome." He saluted Montgomery
+and his aids, who, somewhat nonplussed, returned the greeting.
+
+Nathan Spear elbowed his way to the commander's side. With him came
+Senora Windham and the smiling Senorita Inez. Benito lingered rather
+diffidently in the background with a group of Spanish Californians, but
+was finally induced to bring them forward. There were general
+handshakings. Many other rancheros, now that the ice was broken, brought
+their wives and daughters for an introduction to the gringo commandante,
+and Montgomery, his good humor restored, kissed many a fair hand in
+response to a languishing smile. It seemed a happy and a friendly
+seizure. Inez said, eyes a-sparkle, "We shall see you at the ball this
+evening, Senor Commandante."
+
+"I shall claim the first dance, Senorita," said the sailor, bowing low.
+Her heart leaped as they left him, and she squeezed her brother's arm.
+"He is a kindly man, Benito mio. I shall tell him of this
+interloper--this McTurpin. Have no fear."
+
+Benito smiled a little dubiously. He had less faith than Inez in the
+future government of the Americans.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+AN OFFER AND A THREAT
+
+Aleck McTurpin, tired but exhilarated, rode toward the Windham rancho on
+the morning after Leidesdorff's ball. He had made a night of it and he
+was in high fettle. The Senorita Windham had granted him a dance despite
+her brother's scowling disapproval. Out of the charm of that brief
+association there had come into the gambler's mind a daring plan. To the
+Senorita Inez he had spoken of his claim upon the Windham rancho through
+her brother's note won on the gambling table. He had touched the matter
+very gently, for McTurpin knew the ways of women and was not without
+engaging qualities when they stood him in good stead.
+
+Now he rode toward a tryst with Inez Windham and his heart leaped at the
+prospect of another sight of her; within him like a heady wine there was
+the memory of her sparkling eyes, the roguish, mischievous, half-pouting
+mouth. The consciousness of something finer than his life had known
+aroused in him strange devotional impulses, unfamiliar yearnings.
+
+He and the Senorita were to meet and plan a settlement of McTurpin's
+claim against the rancho. He had asked her to come alone, and, after a
+swift look, half fearful, half desperate, she consented. It was an
+unheard-of thing in Spanish etiquette. But he believed she would fulfill
+the bargain. And if she did, he asked himself, what should he say--or
+do? For, perhaps, the first time in his life McTurpin was uncertain.
+
+Suddenly the road turned and he came upon her. She stood beside her
+horse, the morning sunlight in her wondrous dark hair. The ride had
+brought fresh color to her face and sparkle to her eyes. McTurpin caught
+his breath before the wonder and beauty of her. Then he sprang from his
+horse and bowed low. The Senorita Inez nodded almost curtly.
+
+"I have little time, Senor," she said, uneasily. "You are late. I may be
+missed." Her smile was all the more alluring for its hint of panic. "Can
+we not come to the point at once? I have here certain jewels which will
+pay a portion of the debt." She unclasped from her throat a necklace of
+pearls he had noted at the ball. She held them out toward him. "And here
+is a ring. Have you brought the paper?"
+
+McTurpin held up a protesting hand. "You wrong me, Senorita," he
+declared. "I am a gambler. Yes ... I take my chance with men and win or
+lose according to the Fates. But I have yet to rob a woman of her
+trinkets."
+
+"It is no robbery," she demurred, hastily. "Take them, I beseech you,
+and return the note. If it is not enough, we will pay more ... later ...
+from the proceeds of the ranch."
+
+"Senorita," said McTurpin eagerly, "let us compromise this matter more
+adroitly. Should I make no further claim upon your ranch than that which
+I possess, why may we not be neighbors--friends?"
+
+She tried to protest, but he rushed on, giving her no opportunity.
+"Senorita, I am not a man devoid of culture. I am not a sailor or a
+trapper like those ruffians below. Nor a keeper of shops. Senorita, I
+will give up gambling and become a ranchero. If--" he stammered,
+"If I--"
+
+Inez Windham took a backward step. Her breath came sharply. In this
+man's absurd confusion there was written plainer than his uncompleted
+words could phrase it, what he meant.
+
+"No, no," her little hands went out as if to ward off some repulsive
+thing. "Senor--that is quite impossible."
+
+McTurpin saw the look of horror, of aversion. He felt as though someone
+had struck him in the face. There was a little silence. Then he
+laughed, shortly.
+
+"Impossible?" the tone was cutting. "We shall see.... This is now a
+white man's country. I have offered to divide the rancho. What if I
+should take it all? Where would you go? You, the proud Senora and the
+shiftless young Benito?"
+
+The Senorita Inez' lips curled. "When my father comes he will know how
+to answer you," she told him, hotly.
+
+"If he were alive he would have come long since," McTurpin answered.
+"Many perish on the northern trails." He took a step toward her. "Do you
+know that this morning 200 more Americans arrived on the ship Brooklyn?
+They are armed and there is talk of 'running out the greasers.' Do you
+know what that means? It were well to have a friend at court, my
+little lady."
+
+"Go!" the girl blazed at him. "Go, and quickly--liar that you are. My
+brother and his vaqueros will know how to protect my mother and me." She
+sprang upon her horse and galloped toward the rancho. McTurpin, red and
+angry, watched her disappearing in a whirl of dust.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Look, my brother! He has spoken truly." Inez and Benito had ridden to
+the pueblo for a confirmation of McTurpin's words. They hitched their
+horses at the rack in Portsmouth Square and walked down toward the
+landing place. A large ship lay in the offing. Between her and the shore
+many small boats laden with passengers and varied cargoes plied to
+and fro.
+
+Inez, as they descended, noted many women clad in the exaggerated
+hoopskirts, the curious, short, gathered bodices and the low hats of the
+early forties. She thought this apparel oddly ugly, though the faces
+were not unattractive. They stood in knots, these women, some of them
+gazing rather helplessly about. The younger ones were surrounded by
+groups of admirers with whom they were chatting animatedly. There were
+also many children capering in the sand and pointing out to one another
+the strange sights of this new place. The men--hundreds of them it
+seemed to Inez--were busied with constructive tasks. Already there were
+many temporary habitations, mostly tents of varied shapes and sizes.
+Bonfires blazed here and there. Stands of arms in ordered, regular
+stacks, gave the scene a martial air. Piles of bed-clothing, household
+effects, agricultural implements, lay upon the sand. A curious
+instrument having a large wheel on one side caught the girl's attention.
+Near it were square, shallow boxes. A pale, broad-shouldered man with
+handsome regular features and brooding, poetic eyes stood beside the
+machine, turning the wheel now and then, and examining the boxes. He
+seemed to be a leader, for many people came to ask him questions which
+he answered with decision and authority.
+
+"Who is that?" asked Inez of Nathan Spear and Leidesdorff as the two
+approached. "And what is the strange contrivance upon which he has
+his hand?"
+
+"It is a printing press," Spear answered. "Yerba Buena is soon to have a
+paper for the chronicling of its metropolitan affairs. The man? Oh,
+that's Sam Brannan, the elder of this band of Mormons."
+
+"Is it true that they have come to drive us from our homes?" asked Inez
+fearfully.
+
+"Who, the Mormons? Lord forbid," retorted Spear. He beckoned to the
+elder, who approached and was presented. Inez, as she looked into his
+kindly eyes, forgot her fears. Brannan eagerly explained his printing
+press. She left him feeling that he was less enemy than friend.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE FIRST ELECTION
+
+Captain John J. Vioget's house was the busiest place in Yerba Buena, and
+John Henry Brown its most important personage. The old frame dwelling
+built by a Swiss sailor in 1840 had become in turn a billiard hall and
+groggery, a sort of sailors' lodging house and a hotel. Now it was the
+scene of Yerba Buena's first election. About a large table sat the
+election inspectors guarding the ballot box, fashioned hastily from an
+empty jar of lemon syrup. Robert Ridley, recently released from Sutter's
+Fort, where he had been imprisoned by the Bear Flag party, was a
+candidate for office as alcalde. He opposed Lieutenant Washington
+Bartlett, appointed to officiate pro tem by Captain Montgomery. Brown
+was busy with his spirituous dispensing. It was made a rule, upon
+Brannan's advice, that none should be served until he had voted.
+
+Brown kept shouting: "Ship-shape, gents, and reg'lar; that's the word.
+Place your vote and then you drinks.... Gord bless yer merry hearts."
+
+Thus he harangued them into order and coaxed many a Russian, Spanish,
+English and American coin across his bar. Suddenly he looked into the
+eyes of Aleck McTurpin.
+
+"Give me a brandy sling," the gambler ordered. He was in a rough mood,
+which ensues from heavy and continued drinking.
+
+"Have ye voted, Aleck?" Brown inquired.
+
+"I vote when I please," McTurpin answered sullenly, "and I drink when it
+suits me." He took from an inner pocket of his coat a derringer with
+silver mountings, laid it meaningly upon the bar. "I ordered a
+brandy sling."
+
+Brown paled, but his eye did not waver. Almost casually, he spoke. "Stop
+your jokin', Aleck. Rules is rules."
+
+McTurpin's fingers closed about the pistol. His eyes were venomous.
+
+Then Benito Windham entered. Just inside the door he paused,
+uncertainly. "I have come to vote for Senor Bartlett as Alcalde,"
+he declared.
+
+A laugh greeted him. "You should not announce your choice," said
+Inspector Ward severely. "The ballot is supposedly secret."
+
+McTurpin turned, his quarrel with Brown instantly forgotten. "Throw the
+little greaser out," he spoke with slow distinctness. "This is a white
+man's show."
+
+There was a startled silence. "He's drunk," Brown told them soothingly.
+"Aleck's drunk. Don't listen to him."
+
+"Drunk or not, I back my words." He waved the weapon threateningly. "Sit
+down there," he ordered Windham. "If you want to vote you'll vote for a
+gentleman. Write Bob Ridley's name on your ballot, or, by God! I'll fix
+you." Benito, as if hypnotized, took a seat at the table and dipped his
+quill in the ink. The others stirred uneasily, but made no move. There
+was a moment of foreboding silence. Then a hearty voice said from the
+door: "What's the matter, gentlemen?"
+
+No one answered. McTurpin, the pistol in his hand, still stood above
+Benito. The latter's fingers held the quill suspended. A drop of ink
+fell on the ballot slip unnoted. Brannan, with a puzzled frown, came
+forward, laid a hand upon the gambler's shoulder.
+
+"What's the matter here?" he asked more sharply.
+
+McTurpin turned upon him fiercely. "Go to hell!" he cried. "I'm running
+this."
+
+Brannan's voice was quiet. "Put the pistol down!" he ordered.
+Deliberately McTurpin raised his weapon. "Damn you--" But he got no
+farther. Brannan's fist struck fairly on the chin. One could hear the
+impact of it like a hammer blow. There was a shot, a bullet spent
+against the rafters overhead. McTurpin sprawling on the
+sawdust-covered floor.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On Windham rancho the Senora Windham waited with a faith that knew no
+end for the coming of her husband. There had been vague reports from
+vaguer sources that he had been captured by the northern savages. Inez
+and Benito were forever at her side--save when the boy rode into town to
+cull news from arriving sailors. The Spanish rancheros had all withdrawn
+to the seclusion of their holdings and were on the verge of war against
+the new authorities of Yerba Buena.
+
+Washington Bartlett, recently elected Alcalde, had abused his office by
+repeated confiscations of fine horses from the camponeras of
+Spanish-Californians, seizing them by requisition of military authority
+and giving orders on the government in exchange. This the Spaniards had
+borne in silence. But abuses had become so flagrant as to pass
+all bounds.
+
+"We must arm and drive these robbers from our California," said Benito
+passionately. "Sanchez has, in secret, organized one hundred caballeros.
+Only wait. The day comes when we strike!"
+
+"Benito," said his mother, sadly, "there has been enough of war. We
+cannot struggle with these Yankees. They are strong and numerous. We
+must keep the peace and suffer until your father comes."
+
+"There is to be a grand ball at the casa of the Senor Leidesdorff," said
+Inez. "El Grande Commandante of the Yankee squadron comes amid great
+ceremony. I will gain his ear. Perchance he will undo the wrongs of this
+Bartlett, the despoiler."
+
+"Inez mia," said her brother, "do not go. No good will come of it. For
+they are all alike, these foreigners."
+
+"Ah!" she cried, reproachfully, "you say that of the Senor Brannan? Or
+of Don Nathan?"
+
+"They are good men," Benito answered, grudgingly. "Have it as you will."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Yerba Buena did honor to Commodore Stockton under Leidesdorff's
+ever-hospitable roof. Hundreds of candles burned in sconces and
+chandeliers, festoons of bunting and greenery gave the big room a
+carnival air; Indian servitors flitted silently about with trays of
+refreshments, and the gold lace and braid of America's navy mingled
+picturesquely with the almost spectacular garb of stately Spanish
+caballeros. The commodore, though undersized, was soldierly and very
+brisk of manner. Stockton seemed to Inez a gallant figure. While she
+danced with him, she found his brisk directness not unpleasing. He asked
+her of the rancheros and of reports that came to him of their
+dissatisfaction with American authority.
+
+"They seem so cordial," he said, "these Spanish gentlemen. I cannot
+believe that they hate us, as it is said."
+
+"Ah, Senor." Inez' smile had faded and her deep and troubled eyes held
+his. "They have cause for hatred, though they come in all good will to
+welcome you."
+
+As it chanced, they passed just then close to a little group in which
+Alcalde Bartlett made a central figure. Two of Stockton's aids were
+hanging on his words.
+
+"Tomorrow, gentlemen, we shall go riding. I will find you each a worthy
+mount. We raise fine horses on the ranches."
+
+The fiery Sanchez, strolling by, overheard as well. Eyes ablaze, he went
+on swiftly joining Vasquez and De Haro near the door. They held low
+converse for an instant with their smouldering glances on the pompous
+Bartlett. Then they hurried out.
+
+[Illustration: "Ah, Senor," Inez' smile had faded ... "they have cause
+for hatred."]
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE RANCHEROS REVOLT
+
+Five horsemen rode into the morning sunshine down El Camino Real toward
+the south. One was Washington Bartlett, alcalde of Yerba Buena, whose
+rather pursy figure sat with an ungainly lack of grace the mettled horse
+which he bestrode. It was none other than Senora Windham's favorite and
+beloved mare "Diablo," filched from the Windham stables several days
+before. In compensation she received a bit of paper signifying that the
+animal was commandeered "for military necessity."
+
+The rancheros were patient fellows, Bartlett reflected. If his
+conscience smote him sometimes, he took refuge in the knowledge that
+America was still at war with Mexico and that these horses were the
+property of alien enemies. Non-combatants, possibly. Yet they had failed
+in declaration of allegiance to the United States.
+
+"I'll show you some excellent horseflesh today," he promised his
+companions. "And, what's better, you shall have your pick."
+
+"Well, that's extraordinarily good of you, alcalde," said the man who
+rode beside him. "But ... do you mean one gets these glorious
+animals--for love?"
+
+"Not--er--exactly," Bartlett answered. "You see, my deputies and
+officers, like yourself, must ride about to make their observations and
+reports. Such are the needs of war."
+
+"Of course," another rider nodded understandingly. "And as alcalde you
+have many deputies."
+
+"As well as many--er--observation officers like ourselves to supply," a
+third supplemented, slyly dropping one eyelid.
+
+The fourth man said nothing for a time. Then, rather unexpectedly, he
+asked: "And what do you give them in exchange, alcalde?"
+
+Bartlett turned in some surprise. "I give them notes of hand," he
+answered half resentfully. "Notes redeemable in American gold--when the
+war is over."
+
+"And, are these notes negotiable security? Will your shop-keepers accept
+them in lieu of coin?"
+
+"At proper discounts--yes," said Bartlett, flushing.
+
+"I have heard," the other remarked almost musingly, "that they are
+redeemable at from fifteen to twenty per cent. And that the only man who
+accepts them at even half of their face value is McTurpin the gambler."
+
+"That is not my business," Bartlett answered brusquely. The quintet rode
+on, absorbed and silent. Below them swept green reaches of ranch land,
+dotted here and there with cattle and horses or the picturesque
+haciendas of old Spanish families. The camino stretched white and broad
+before them, winding through rolling hillocks, shaded sometimes by huge
+overhanging trees.
+
+"Isn't this Francisco Sanchez, whom we go to visit, a soldier, a former
+commandante of your town, alcalde?" asked a rider.
+
+"Yes, the same one who ran away when Montgomery came." Bartlett laughed.
+"It was several days before he dared come out of the brush to take a
+look at the 'gringo invader.'"
+
+"I met him at the reception to Commodore Stockton," said the man who
+rode beside Bartlett. "He didn't impress me as a timid chap, exactly.
+Something of a fire-eater, I'd have said."
+
+"Oh, they're all fire-eaters--on the surface," Bartlett's tone was
+disdainful. "But you may all judge for yourselves in a moment. For, if
+I'm not mistaken, he's coming up the road to meet us."
+
+"By jove, he sits his horse like a king," said Bartlett's companion,
+admiringly. "Who are those chaps with him? Looks like a sort
+of--reception committee."
+
+"They are Guerrero and Vasquez and--oh, yes, young Benito Windham,"
+Bartlett answered. He spurred his horse and the others followed; there
+was something about the half careless formation of the four riders ahead
+which vaguely troubled the alcalde.
+
+"Buenos dias, caballeros," he saluted in his faulty Spanish.
+
+"Buenos dias, senors," Sanchez spoke with unusual crispness. "You have
+come for horses, doubtless, amigo alcalde?"
+
+"Ah--er--yes," said Bartlett. "The necessities of war are great," he
+added apologetically.
+
+"And suppose we refuse?" Benito Windham pressed forward, blazing out the
+words in passionate anger. "Suppose we deny your manufactured
+requisitions? Whence came the horse you sit like a very clown? I will
+tell you, tyrant and despoiler. It was stolen from my mother by
+your thieves."
+
+"Benito, hold your peace," said Sanchez sternly. "I will deal with this
+good gentleman and his friends. They shall be our guests for a time."
+
+As though the words had been a signal, five lariats descended apparently
+from a clear sky, each falling over the head of a member of Bartlett's
+party. They settled neatly and were tightened, pinning the arms of
+riders helplessly.
+
+"Well done, amigos," commented Sanchez as a quintet of grinning vaqueros
+rode up from the rear. "As you have so aptly said, the necessities of
+war are paramount, alcalde."
+
+"What's the meaning of this?" demanded Bartlett. "Release us instantly,
+or you shall suffer. Do you think," he sneered, "that a handful of
+greasers can defy the United States?"
+
+"Perchance, with so important an official as the great Alcalde Bartlett
+for your hostage, we can reach a compromise on certain points," said
+Sanchez. "Come, you shall suffer no hardship, if you accept the
+situation reasonably."
+
+"I warn you that this means death or imprisonment to all of you,"
+Bartlett shouted.
+
+"Ah, senor, the risks of war are many." Sanchez' teeth flashed. He
+clucked to his horse and the little cavalcade wound, single-file, up a
+narrow horse-trail toward the hills.
+
+They passed many bands of horsemen, all armed, saluting Sanchez as their
+chief. Among them were owners and vaqueros from a score of ranches.
+There was something grim, determined in their manner which foreboded
+serious trouble.
+
+One of Bartlett's fellow-captives leaned toward him, whispering: "Those
+fellows mean business. They're like hornets if you stir 'em up too far,
+these greasers."
+
+"Yes, by Jove! And they mean to sting!" said another.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+McTURPIN'S COUP
+
+Yerba Buena was in an uproar. Sanchez' capture of Alcalde Bartlett and
+his party had brought home with a vengeance the war which hitherto was
+but an echo from far Mexico. Now the peaceful pueblo was an armed camp.
+Volunteers rode in from San Jose, San Juan and other nearby pueblos,
+asking for a chance to "fight the greasers." All the ranches of the
+countryside buzzed with a martial ardor. Vaqueros, spurred with jangling
+silver-mounted harness, toward Francisco Sanchez' stronghold in the
+Santa Clara hills to battle with the "gringo tyrants."
+
+Commander Hull of the "Warren" had sent a hundred sailors and marines
+from his sloop, post haste, to quell the rebellion. Couriers rode to and
+fro between his headquarters in the custom house and the punitive
+expedition under Captain Ward Marston which was scouting the Santa Clara
+plains in search of the enemy.
+
+Even now the battle waged, no doubt, for Marston that morning reported a
+brush with the enemy, had asked for reinforcements. Hull had sent post
+haste a pack of ill assorted and undrilled adventurers from among the
+new arrivals. That was 9 o'clock and now the sun had passed its noon
+meridian--with no courier.
+
+William Leidesdorff came strolling up, his expression placid, smiling as
+always. He was warm from toiling up the hill and paused, panting, hat in
+hand, to mop his brow with a large red 'kerchief.
+
+"Ha! Commander!" he saluted. "And how goes it this morning?"
+
+Hull glanced at him half irritated, half amused. One could never quite
+be angry at this fellow nor in tune with him. Leidesdorff, with his
+cherubic grin, his plump, comfortable body, the close-cropped hair, side
+whiskers and moustache, framing and embellishing his round face with an
+ornate symmetry, was like a bearded cupid. Hull handed him the latest
+dispatch. "Nothing since then, confound it!" he said gloomily.
+
+"Ah, well," spoke Leidesdorff, with unction, "one should not be alarmed.
+What is that cloud of dust on the horizon? A courier perhaps."
+
+It proved to be Samuel Brannan, dusty and weary, with dispatches from
+Captain Ward which Hull almost snatched from his hand. A group of men
+and women who had watched his arrival, gathered about asking questions.
+Nathan Spear spoke first. He had been too ill to join the Americans, but
+had furnished them horses and arms. "How goes it with our 'army,' Sam?"
+he asked.
+
+"None too well," said Brannan. "Those greasers can fight and they've a
+good leader. Everyone of them would die for Sanchez. And everyone's a
+sharpshooter. For a time they amused themselves this morning knocking
+off our hats--it rather demoralized the recruits."
+
+Hull, with an imprecation, crushed the dispatch and turned to Brannan.
+"We must have more men and quickly," he announced. "Ward asks for
+instant reinforcements.... Can you recruit--say fifty--from
+your colony?"
+
+"Impossible," said Brannan, shortly. "I have sent all who can ride or
+manage a rifle." He came a little closer and regarded the commander
+steadily. "Did Ward write anything about a parley?" he inquired.
+
+"Yes," said Hull. "He indicates that peace might be arranged if I will
+give a guarantee against further horse or cattle commandeering."
+
+"May I suggest that such a course is wise--and just?"
+
+"Damn it, sir! You'd have me treat with these--these brigands!" the
+other shouted. "Never. They've defied the United States by laying
+violent hands on an official. They've wounded two of my marines."
+
+He turned to the crowd which had assembled. "Do you hear that? Two
+Americans wounded. Five held in captivity--including your alcalde. Shall
+we stand that passively? Shall we let the enemy dictate terms?"
+
+"No, no!" a voice shouted. "Fight to the last ditch. Kill the greasers.
+Hang them to a tree. I'm with you, horse and gun. Who else?"
+
+"I, I, I," a score made answer. They pressed forward. "Who's to lead
+us?" asked the first speaker.
+
+Brannan stepped forward but Commander Hull raised a protesting hand. "I
+shall send a corporal of marines from the Warren. You will rest your
+horse, since I cannot spare you a fresh mount, and hold yourself in
+readiness to act as a courier, Mr. Brannan." He summoned an orderly and
+sent him to the Warren with an order to Corporal Smith. Meanwhile the
+volunteers assembled in the square, thirty-four in all; men of half a
+dozen nationalities. One giant Russian loomed above them, a Goliath on a
+great roan horse. And near him, to accentuate the contrast, an elderly
+moustached, imperialed Frenchman on a mare as under-sized and spirited
+as himself.
+
+Brannan and Leidesdorff watched them galloping down the camino ten
+minutes later under the guidance of a smart young corporal.
+
+"I trust it will soon be over," said the former. "I saw Benito Windham
+riding beside Sanchez in the battle today."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Senorita Inez' head was high that afternoon when McTurpin came upon
+her suddenly in the patio of the Windham hacienda. She rose haughtily.
+"Senor, this intrusion is unpardonable. If my brother was within
+call--" McTurpin bowed low. There was a touch of mockery in his eye.
+"It is about your brother that I've come to talk with you, Miss Inez."
+
+The girl's hand sought her breast. "Benito! He is not--" Words failed
+her.
+
+"No, not dead--yet," McTurpin answered.
+
+"God in Heaven! Tell me," said the girl, imploringly! "He is wounded?
+Dying?" McTurpin took a seat beside her on the rustic bench. "Benito
+isn't dead--nor wounded so far as I know. But," his tone held an ominous
+meaning, "it might be better if he were."
+
+"I--I do not understand," said Inez, staring.
+
+"Then let me make it clear." McTurpin struck a fist against his palm.
+"Your brother is American. Very well. And what is an American who takes
+up arms against his country?"
+
+The girl sprang up. "It is a lie. Benito fights for freedom, justice
+only--"
+
+"That is not the view of our American Commander," McTurpin rose and
+faced her. "The law of war is that a man who fights against his country
+is a traitor." His eyes held hers hypnotically. "When this revolt is
+over there will be imprisonment or pardon for the Spanish-Californians.
+_But Benito will be hanged_."
+
+Inez Windham swayed. One hand grasped at the bench-back for support; the
+other clutched her bodice near the throat. "Benito," she said almost in
+a whisper. Then she turned upon McTurpin furiously. "Go," she cried. "I
+do not believe you. Go!"
+
+But McTurpin did not stir. "It is the law of nations," he declared, "no
+use denying it, Miss Windham."
+
+"Why did you come to tell me this? To torture me?"
+
+"To save you--and your brother?"
+
+"How?" she asked fiercely.
+
+"I have influence with Alcalde Bartlett." The gambler smiled. "He owes
+me--more than he can pay. But if that fails ..." he turned toward her
+eagerly, "I have means to accomplish his escape."
+
+"And the price," she stammered. "There is a price, isn't there?"
+
+His gaze met hers directly, "You, little Inez."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE ELOPEMENT
+
+Two riders, a man and a veiled woman evidently young, halted their
+horses in Portsmouth Square, where the former alighted and offered an
+arm to his companion. She, however, disdaining his assistance, sprang
+lightly from the saddle and, turning her back on him, gazed, motionless,
+toward the bay. There was something arresting and curiously dramatic
+about the whole performance, something that hinted of impending tragedy.
+The slight figure with its listless droop and stony immobility caught
+and clutched the sympathies of Nathan Spear as he was passing by. The
+man was Alec McTurpin; the girl, no doubt, some light o' love from a
+neighboring pueblo. Yet there was a disturbing familiarity about her.
+
+Spear watched them go across the square toward the City Hotel, a long,
+one-story adobe structure built by Leidesdorff as a store and home. On
+the veranda stood the stocky figure of Proprietor Brown, smoking a long
+pipe and conversing with half a dozen roughly dressed men who lounged
+about the entrance. He looked up wonderingly as McTurpin approached. The
+latter drew him to one side and appeared to make certain demands to
+which Brown acquiesced by a curt nod, as if reluctant. Then the man and
+woman passed around a corner of the building, the loungers peering
+curiously after them.
+
+A little later Spear observed the gambler issue forth alone and journey
+rapidly toward the landing dock. He noted that a strange ship rode at
+anchor. It must have come within the hour, he decided. Impelled by
+curiosity, he descended in McTurpin's wake.
+
+"What ship is that?" he asked of Leidesdorff.
+
+"I haven't learned her name. She's from the north coast with a lot of
+sick men. They've the scurvy and flux, I'm told. Dr. Jones has
+gone aboard."
+
+"I wonder what McTurpin's doing at the ship?" said Spear. "He'll get no
+gambling victims out of ailing seamen."
+
+"It's something else he wants, I fancy," said Bob Ridley, coming from
+the dock toward them. "He's looking for a preacher--"
+
+"Preacher?" cried the other men in unison.
+
+"Yes," responded Ridley. "Aleck's going to be married, the sly dog. And
+since the padres will have nothing to do with him, he's hard pressed.
+Perhaps the wench is a stickler for proprieties," he laughed. "Someone
+told him there was a sky pilot aboard the ship!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Inez Windham removed her veil. She was in a small room, almost dark,
+where McTurpin had left her after locking the door on the outside. It
+was like a cell, with one small window high and narrow which let in a
+straggling transmitted light, dimming mercifully the crude outlines of a
+wooden stool, a bedstead of rough lumber, covered by soiled blankets, a
+box-like commode upon which stood a pitcher and basin of heavy crockery.
+
+The walls were very thin. From beyond them, in what was evidently a
+public chamber, came snatches of talk interspersed with oaths, a click
+of poker chips and coin, now and then a song. An odor of rank tobacco
+seeped through the muslin-covered walls. With a sudden feeling of
+nausea, of complete despair, the girl threw herself face down upon
+the bed.
+
+For a time Inez lay there, oblivious to all save the misery of her
+fate. If only her father had not gone with those northern engineers! If
+only Benito were here to advise her! Benito, her beloved brother, in
+whose path the gallows loomed. It was that picture which had caused her
+to yield to McTurpin. Even darker, now, was the picture of her own
+future. A gambler's wife! Her hand sought a jewelled dagger which she
+always carried in her coiffure. Her fingers closed about the hilt with a
+certain solace. After Benito was safe--
+
+Voices in the next room caught her interest by a mention of the Santa
+Clara battle.
+
+"Hull is fighting mad," she heard. "He promises to bring the greasers to
+their knees. It's unconditional surrender or no quarter, Brannan says."
+
+"First catch your pig--then butcher it," said another, meaningly. "The
+Spaniards have the best of it thus far. Hull's shouting frantically for
+reinforcements. Well, he won't get me. I think the rancheros have their
+side as well as we. If this stiff-necked commander would listen
+to reason."
+
+"He hasn't heard the other side," the first speaker resumed. "If he knew
+what Alcalde Bartlett had done to these poor devils through his horse
+and cattle raids--"
+
+A third man laughed. "He'll never learn that, partner, have no fear;
+who'll tell him?"
+
+"Well, here's to Uncle Sam," said a fourth voice. Followed a clink of
+glasses. Inez Windham sat up swiftly and dried her eyes. A daring
+thought had come to her.
+
+Why should not she tell Commander Hull the truth!
+
+She rose and smoothed her ruffled gown. A swift look from the window
+revealed that the road was clear. Inez began tugging at the door. It
+resisted her efforts, but she renewed the battle with all the fury of
+her youthful strength. Finally the flimsy lock gave a bit beneath her
+efforts; a narrow slit appeared between the door and jamb in which she
+forced her hands and thus secured a great purchase. Then, one foot
+against the wall, she tugged and pried and pulled until, with a sudden
+crack, the bar to liberty sprang open.
+
+She was free.
+
+Just across the Plaza the custom house looked down at her, the late sun
+glinting redly on its tiles. There, no doubt, she would find Commander
+Hull. She hastened forward.
+
+"Not so fast, my dear!"
+
+A hand fell on her shoulder rudely. With, a gasp she looked up at
+McTurpin.
+
+Beside the gambler, whose eyes burned angrily, Inez perceived a tall,
+lean, bearded stranger.
+
+"Let me go!" she demanded.
+
+"I have brought the parson," said McTurpin. "We can be married at once."
+
+"I--I--let us wait a little," stammered Inez.
+
+"Why?" the gambler asked suspiciously. "Where were you going?"
+
+"Nowhere," she evaded, "for a walk--"
+
+"Well, you can walk back to the hotel, my lady," said McTurpin. "I have
+little time to waste. And there's Benito to consider," he concluded.
+Suddenly he put an arm about her waist and kissed her. Inez thought of
+her brother and tried to submit. But she could not repress a little cry
+of aversion, of fear. The bearded man stepped forward. "Hold up a bit,
+partner," he drawled. "This doesn't look quite regular. Don't you wish
+to marry him, young lady?"
+
+"Of course she does," McTurpin blustered. "She rode all the way in from
+her mother's ranch to be my wife." He glared at Inez. "Isn't it true?"
+he flung at her. "Tell him."
+
+She nodded her head miserably. But the stranger was not satisfied. "Let
+go of her," he said, and when McTurpin tailed to heed the order, sinewy
+fingers on the gambler's wrist enforced it.
+
+"Now, tell me, Miss, what's wrong?" the bearded one invited. "Has this
+fellow some hold on you? Is he forcing you into this marriage?"
+
+Again the girl nodded dumbly.
+
+"She lies," said McTurpin, venomously, but the words were scarcely out
+of his mouth before the stranger's fist drove them back. McTurpin
+staggered. "Damn you!" he shouted, "I teach you to meddle between a man
+and his woman."
+
+Inez saw something gleam in his hand as the two men sprang upon each
+other. She heard another blow, a groan. Screaming, she fled uphill
+toward the custom house.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+HULL "CAPITULATES"
+
+Like a startled deer, Inez Windham fled from McTurpin and the stranger,
+her little, high-heeled slippers sinking unheeded into the horse-trodden
+mire of Portsmouth Square, her silk skirt spattered and soiled; her
+hair, freed from the protecting mantilla, blowing in the searching trade
+wind. Thus, as Commander Hull sat upon the custom house veranda, reading
+the latest dispatch from Captain Ward, she burst upon him--a flushed,
+disheveled, lovely vision with fear-stricken eyes.
+
+"Senor," she panted, "Senor Commandante ... I must speak with you at
+once!"
+
+Hull rose. "My dear young lady"--he regarded her with patent
+consternation--"my dear young lady ... w-what is wrong?"
+
+She was painfully aware of her bedraggled state, the whirlwind lack of
+ceremony with which she had propelled herself into his presence.
+Suddenly words failed her, she was conscious that an arm stretched
+toward her as she swayed. Next she lay upon a couch in an inner chamber,
+the commander, in his blue-and-gold-braid stiffness bending over her,
+gravely anxious.
+
+She rose at once, ignoring his protesting gesture.
+
+"I--I fainted?" she asked perplexedly. Hull nodded. "Something excited
+you. A fight in the street below. A man was stabbed--"
+
+"Oh!" The white face of the bearded stranger sprang into her memory, "Is
+he dead?"
+
+"No, but badly hurt, I fancy," said the Commander. "They have taken him
+to the City Hotel."
+
+Desperately, she forced herself to speak. "I have come, senor, to ask a
+pardon for my brother. He is very dear to me--and to my mother"--she
+clasped her hands and held them toward him supplicatingly. "Senor, if
+Benito should be captured--you will have mercy?"
+
+The commander regarded her with puzzled interest. "Who is Benito, little
+one?"
+
+"His name is Windham. My father was a gring--Americano, Commandante."
+
+Hull frowned. "An American ... fighting against his country?" he said
+sharply.
+
+"Ah, sir"--the girl came closer in her earnestness--"he does not fight
+against the United States ... only against robbers who would hide behind
+its flag." In her tone there was the outraged indignation of a suffering
+people. "Horse thieves, cattle robbers."
+
+"Hush," said Hull, "you must not speak thus of American officials. Their
+seizures, I am told, were unavoidable--for military needs alone."
+
+"You have never heard our side," the girl spoke bitterly. "Was it
+military need that filched two hundred of our blooded horses from the
+ranches? Was it military need that robbed my ailing mother of her pet,
+the mare Diablo? Was it military need that gave our finest steeds to
+your Alcalde for his pleasure, that enabled half a dozen false officials
+to recruit their stables from our caponeras and sell horses in the open
+market?" Her eyes blazed. "Senor, it was tyranny and theft, no less. Had
+I been a man, like Benito, I, too, should have ridden with Sanchez."
+
+"Can you prove these things?" asked the Commander, sternly.
+
+"Si, senor," said Inez quickly. "It is well known hereabouts. Do not
+take my word," she smiled, "I am a woman--a Spaniard, on my mother's
+side. Ask your own countrymen--Samuel Brannan, Nathan Spear, William
+Leidesdorff."
+
+Hull pulled at his chin reflectively. "Something of this sort I have
+already heard," he said, "but I believed it idle gossip.... If your
+brother had come to me, instead of riding with the enemy--"
+
+"He is a youth, hot-blooded and impulsive, Senor Commandante." Swiftly,
+and to Hull's intense embarrassment, she knelt before him. "We love him
+so: my mother, who is ill, and I," she pleaded. "He is all we have....
+Ah, senor, you will spare him--our Benito!"
+
+"Get up," said Hull a trifle brusquely. His tone, too, shook a little.
+"Confound it, girl, I'm not a murderer." He forced a smile. "If my men
+haven't shot the young scoundrel you may have him back."
+
+"And that," he added, as the girl rose with a shining rapture in her
+eyes, "may be tomorrow." He picked up a paper from the desk and regarded
+it thoughtfully. "There is truce at present. Sanchez will surrender if I
+give my word that there shall be no further raids."
+
+"And--you will do this, Commandante?" the girl asked, breathlessly.
+
+"I--will consult with Brannan, Leidesdorff and Spear, as you suggested,"
+Hull replied. But his eyes were kind. The Senorita Inez had her answer.
+Impetuously, her arms went around his neck. An instant later, dazed, a
+little red, a moist spot on his cheek and a lingering fragrance clinging
+subtly like the touch of vanished arms, Hull watched her flying heels
+upon the muddy square.
+
+"Well, I'll be damned!" he said, explosively.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the room which had been Inez' whilom prison--and which proved to be
+the only one available in the City Hotel, Adrian Stanley lay tossing and
+muttering. The woman who sat at his bedside watched anxiously each
+movement of his lips, listening eagerly to catch the incoherent,
+whispered words. For a time she could make of them no intelligent
+meaning. But now, after a long and quiet interval, he began to ask
+questions, though his eyes were still closed. "Am I going to die?"
+
+"No," said Inez, for it was she, "you've lost a lot of blood, but the
+doctor says there's small danger."
+
+The bearded face looked up half quizzically. "Are you glad?"
+
+"Oh ... yes," said Inez, with a quick-taken respiration.
+
+"Then it's all right," the patient murmured sleepily. His eyes closed.
+
+Inez' color heightened as she watched him. What had he meant, she
+wondered, and decided that his brain was not quite clear. But, somehow,
+this was not the explanation she desired.
+
+Presently Dr. Elbert Jones came in, cheering her with his breezy, jovial
+drawl.
+
+"Getting tired of your task?" he questioned. But Inez shook her head.
+"He protected me," she said. "It was while defending me that he was
+wounded." Her eyes searched the physician's face. "Where," she
+questioned fearfully, "is--"
+
+"McTurpin?" returned the doctor. "Lord knows. He vamoosed,
+absquatulated. You'll hear no more of him, I think, Miss Windham."
+
+For a moment the dark lashes of the patient rose as if something in the
+doctor's words had caught his attention; then they fell again over weary
+eyes and he appeared to sleep. But when Doctor Jones was gone, Inez
+found him regarding her with unusual interest.
+
+"Did I hear him call you Windham?" he inquired, "Inez Windham?"
+
+"Yes, that is my name," she answered.
+
+"And your father's?"
+
+"He is Don Roberto Windham of the Engineers," Inez leaned forward.
+"Oh!" her eyes shone with a hope she dared not trust. "Tell me, quickly,
+have you news of him?"
+
+"Yes," said Stanley. "He is ill, but will recover. He will soon return."
+His eyes dwelt on the girl in silence, musingly.
+
+"Tell me more!" she pleaded. "We believed him lost. Ah, how my mother's
+health will mend when she hears this. We have waited so long...."
+
+"I was with him in the North," said Stanley. "Often, sitting at the
+camp-fire, while the others slept, he told me of his wife, his daughter,
+and his son, Benito. In my coat," he pointed to a garment hanging near
+the door, "you will find a letter--" He followed her swift, searching
+fingers, saw her press the envelope impulsively against her heart. While
+she read his eyes were on her dreamily, until at last he closed them
+with a little sigh.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+SAN FRANCISCO IS NAMED
+
+Evening on the Windham rancho. Far below, across a vast green stretch of
+meadow sloping toward the sea, the sun sank into crimson canopies of
+cloud. It was one of those perfect days which come after the first
+rains, mellow and exhilarating. The Trio in the rose arbor of the patio
+were silent under the spell of its beauty. Don Roberto Windham, home
+again, after long months of wandering and hardship, stood beside the
+chair in which Senora Windham rested against a pillow. She had mended
+much since his return, and her eyes as she looked up at him held the
+same flashing, fiery tenderness which in the long ago had caused her to
+renounce Castilian traditions and become the bride of an Americano. At
+her feet upon a low stool sat her daughter, Inez, and Windham, as he
+looked down, was a little startled at her likeness to the Spanish beauty
+he had met and married a generation before.
+
+Conscious of his glance, her eyes turned upward and she held out her
+hand to him. "Father, mine," she said in English, "you have made the
+roses bloom again in mother's cheeks. And in my heart," she added with a
+quick, impulsive tenderness.
+
+Robert Windham bent and kissed her wind-tossed hair. "I think another
+has usurped me in the latter task." He smiled, although not without a
+touch of sadness. "Ah, well, Adrian is a fine young fellow. You need not
+blush so furiously."
+
+"I think he comes," said the Senora Anita, and, unconsciously, her arm
+went around the girl. "Is not that his high-stepping mare and his
+beanpole of a figure riding beside Benito in yon cloud of dust?"
+
+She smiled down at Inez. "Do not mind your mother's jesting--Go now to
+smooth your locks and place a rose within them--as I used to do when Don
+Roberto came."
+
+Inez rose and made her way into the casa. She heard a clatter of hoofs
+and voices. At the sound of one her heart leaped strangely.
+
+"We have famous news," she heard her brother say. "The name of Yerba
+Buena has been changed to San Francisco. Here is an account of it in
+Brannan's _California Star_." She heard the rustle of a paper then, once
+more her brother's voice: "San Francisco!" he pronounced it lovingly.
+"Some day it will be a ciudad grande--perhaps even in my time."
+
+"A great city!" repeated his mother. "Thus my father dreamed of it....
+But you will pardon us, Don Adrian, for you have other things in mind
+than Yerb--than San Francisco's future. See, my little one! Even now she
+comes to bid you welcome."
+
+Inez as she joined them gave her hand to Stanley. "Ah, Don Adrian, your
+color is high"--her tone was bantering, mock-anxious. "You have not,
+perchance, a touch of fever?"
+
+He eyed her hungrily. "If I have," he spoke with that slow gentleness
+she loved so well, "it is no fever that requires roots or herbs....
+Shall I," he came a little closer, "shall I put a name to it, Senorita?"
+His words were for her ears alone. Her eyes smiled into his. "Come, let
+us show you the rose garden, Senor Stanley," she said with playful
+formality and placed her silk-gloved fingers on his arm.
+
+Senora Windham's hand groped for her husband's. There were tears in her
+eyes, but he bent down and kissed them away. "Anita, mia, do not grieve.
+He is a good lad."
+
+"It is not that." She hid her face against his shoulder. "It is not
+that--"
+
+"I understand," he whispered.
+
+After a little time Benito spoke. "Mother, I learned something from the
+warring of the rancheros aganist Alcalde Bartlett." He came forward and
+picked up the newspaper which had fallen from his mother's lap. "I
+learned," his hand fell on his father's shoulder, "that I am an
+American."
+
+"Benito!" said his mother quickly.
+
+"I am Don Roberto's son, as well as thine, remember, madre mia!" he
+spoke with unusual gentleness. "Even with Sanchez, Vasquez and Guerrero
+at my side in battle, I did not shoot to kill. Something said within,
+'These men are brothers. They are of the clan of Don Roberto, of thy
+father.' So I shot to miss. And when the commandante, Senor Hull,
+dismissed me with kind words--he who might have hanged me as a
+traitor--my heart was full of love for all his people. And contrition.
+Mother, you will forgive? You, who have taught me all the pride of the
+Hidalgo. For I must say the truth, to you and everyone...." He knelt at
+her feet, impressing a kiss of love and reverence upon her
+outstretched hand.
+
+"Rise, my son," she said, tremulously. "You are right, and it is well."
+She smiled. "Who am I to say my boy is no Americano? I, who wed the best
+and noblest of them all."
+
+There was a little silence. Inez and Don Adrian, returning, paused a
+moment, half dismayed. "Come, my children," said Anita Windham.
+
+"Ah," cried Inez, teasingly, "we are not the only ones who have been
+making love." She led her companion forward. "We have come to ask your
+blessing, mother, father mine," she whispered. "I," her eyes fell, "I am
+taken captive by a gringo."
+
+"Do not use that name," her mother said reprovingly. But Don Roberto
+laughed. "You are the second to declare allegiance to the Stars and
+Stripes." He took Benito's hand. "My son's discovered he's American,
+Don Adrian."
+
+Presently Benito spoke again. "That is not all, my father. There is soon
+to be a meeting for relief of immigrants lost in the Sierra Nevada
+snows. James Reed will organize an expedition from Yerb--from San
+Francisco. And I wish to go. There are women and children
+starving, perhaps."
+
+"It is the Donner party. They tried a short cut and the winter overtook
+them. I, too, will go," said Don Roberto.
+
+"And I," volunteered Stanley.
+
+But the women had it otherwise. "You have been too long gone from me,"
+Anita quavered. "I would fear your loss again." And Inez argued that her
+Adrian was not recovered from his wound or illness. Finally it was
+decided that Benito only would accompany the expedition. The talk fell
+upon other matters. Alcalde Bartlett had been discredited, though not
+officially, since his return from capture by the rancheros. He was soon
+to be displaced and there would be no further commandeering of horses
+and cattle.
+
+"The commandante tells me," Windham said, "that there is still no news
+of the Warren's launch which was sent last December to pay the garrison
+at Sutter's Fort. Bob Ridley's men, who cruised the San Joaquin and
+Sacramento rivers, found nothing."
+
+"But--the boat and its crew couldn't vanish completely?" Benito's tone
+held puzzled incredulity. "There would be Wreckage. Floating bodies--"
+
+"Unless," said Adrian, "they had been hidden--buried secretly, perhaps."
+
+"Adrian, what do you mean?" asked Inez in excitement. "It was about the
+time that--"
+
+"McTurpin left," responded Stanley. "I've heard more than a whisper of
+his possible connection with the disappearance. McTurpin didn't leave
+alone. He rounded up half a dozen rough-looking fellows and they rode
+out of town together."
+
+There was a silence. Then Benito spoke. "We haven't seen the last of
+him, I fear."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE NEW YORK VOLUNTEERS
+
+It was almost a month later that Inez galloped home from San Francisco
+with a precious missive from the absent brother. They had outfitted at
+Johnson's ranch near Sacramento and, encountered the first expedition
+returning with twenty-two starved wretches from the Donner Camp. Many
+women and children still remained there.
+
+"We started on the day which is a gringo fete because it is the natal
+anniversary of the great George Washington," Benito's chronicle
+concluded. "May it prove a good omen, and may we bring freedom, life to
+the poor souls engulfed by the snowdrifts. I kiss your hands. BENITO."
+
+A fortnight passed before there came another letter. The second relief
+party had reached Donner Camp without mishap but, with seventeen
+survivors, had been storm-bound on a mountain summit and returned with
+but eleven of the rescued after frightful hardship. Benito was
+recuperating in a Sacramento hospital from frozen feet.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Look, Roberto," exclaimed Senora Windham as they cantered into San
+Francisco one morning. "A ship all gay with banners! See the townsfolk
+are excited. They rush to the Embarcadero. The band plays. It must be
+the festival of some Americano patron saint."
+
+"It is the long expected New York volunteers," replied her husband.
+"They've been recruited for the past year for service in California.
+Colonel Stevenson, the commander, is a most distinguished man. The
+president himself made him an offer of command if he could raise a
+regiment of California volunteers." Windham smiled. "I believe it is
+for colonization rather than actual military duty that they've been sent
+out here ... three shiploads of them with two doctors and a chaplain."
+
+As they picked their way along a narrow footpath toward the beach, the
+portly Leidesdorff advanced to greet them. "Would that I had a cloak of
+velvet," he said gallantly, "so that I might lay it in the mire at your
+feet, fair lady." Anita Windham flashed a smile at him. "Like the
+chivalrous Don Walter Raleigh," she responded. "Ah, but I am not a Queen
+Elizabeth. Nor is this London." She regarded with a shrug of distaste
+the stretch of mud-flats reaching to the tide-line, rubbish--littered
+and unfragrant. Knee-deep in its mire, bare-legged Indians and booted
+men drove piles for the superstructure of a new pier.
+
+Lieutenant Bryant joined them, brisk and natty in his naval garb. He was
+the new alcalde, Bartlett having been displaced and ordered to
+rejoin his ship.
+
+"No, it's not London," he took up Anita's statement, "but it's going to
+be a better San Francisco if I have my way. We'll fill that bog with
+sand and lay out streets between Fort Montgomery and the Rincon, if the
+governor'll cede the tide-flats to the town. Jasper O'Farrell is
+making a map."
+
+"See, they are landing," cried the Dona Windham, clapping her hands.
+
+A boat put off amid hails from the shore. Soon four officers and a
+boat's crew stood upon the landing pier and gazed about them curiously.
+
+"That's Colonel Stevenson," said Bryant, nodding toward the leader. On
+the verge of fifty, statesmanlike of mien and manner, stood the man who
+had recruited the first volunteer company which came around The Horn. He
+fingered his sword a bit awkwardly, as though unused to military dress
+formalities. But his eyes were keen and eager and commanding.
+
+More boats put off from the anchored vessel. By and by the parade
+began, led by Captain Stevenson. It was a straggling military formation
+that toiled up-hill through the sand toward Portsmouth Square. These men
+were from the byways and hedges of life. Some of them had shifty eyes
+and some bold, predatory glances which forebode nothing good for San
+Francisco's peace. Adventurers for the most part, lured to this new
+land, some by the wander spirit, others by a wish to free themselves
+from the restraints of law. Certain of them were to die upon the
+gallows; others were to be the proud and honored citizens of a raw,
+potential metropolis. They talked loudly, vehemently, to one another as
+they marched like school boys seeing strange sights, pointing eagerly at
+all that aroused their interest. The officers marched more stiffly as
+though conscious of official noblesse oblige.
+
+"I wish that Inez might have seen it," Mrs. Windham said a little
+wistfully. "But she must help the Indian seamstress with her gown for
+the dance. Don Adrian is to be there."
+
+"He has decided that there are other ways of serving God than in the
+pulpit," remarked Stanley. "They talk of making him the master of the
+school ... if our committee can ever decide on a location and what's to
+pay for it."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the full regimentals of his rank, Colonel Stevenson graced
+Leidesdorff's ballroom that evening, cordially exchanging smiles and
+bows with San Francisco's citizenry. Besides him was his quartermaster,
+Captain Joseph Folsom who, though less than thirty, had seen active
+service in a Florida campaign against the Seminoles. He held himself
+slightly aloof with the class consciousness of the West Pointer.
+
+Nearby stood a lanky surgeon of the volunteers discussing antiseptics
+with Dr. Jones. Leidesdorff was everywhere, pathetically eager to
+please, an ecstatic, perspiring figure, making innumerable inquiries as
+to the comfort of his guests.
+
+"He's like a mother hen worried over a brood of new chicks," said
+Brannan to Jasper O'Farrell.
+
+"And a damned fine little man," the Irishman answered. "Oh--I beg your
+pardon, Senorita."
+
+Inez Windham smiled forgiveness, nodding when he asked her for a dance.
+"Tell me," she asked eagerly, "of the grand new map you make for San
+Francisco."
+
+"Ah," O'Farrell said, "they laugh at it because I have to change
+Vioget's acute and obtuse angles. They call it 'O'Farrell's Swing.' You
+see, I've had to change the direction of some streets. There are many
+more now. Eight hundred acres laid out like a city."
+
+As the music stopped he led her to a bench and fumbled in his pocket for
+a drawing which he straightened on his knees. "See, here is a new road
+through the center, a broad way, straight as an arrow from the bay to
+the foot of Twin Peaks. It parallels the Mission camino, and Bryant
+wants to call it Market street."
+
+"But how is this?" asked Inez puzzled, "streets where there is only mud
+and water--"
+
+"They will be reclaimed with the waste from our leveled sand hills,"
+said O'Farrell. He glanced about him searchingly, then whispered:
+"Tonight Governor Mason told me confidentially he would cede the tide
+flats to our local government, provided they are sold at auction for the
+benefit of San Francisco. They'll go cheap; but some day they'll be
+worth thousands. Tell your father--"
+
+He broke off hastily. Toward them stalked Benito Windham, covered with
+dust as though from a long ride. There was trouble in his eyes. With a
+swift apology he drew his sister aside. "McTurpin," he panted. "He is
+back ... with a dozen men ... riding toward the rancho."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE "SYDNEY DUCKS"
+
+Dazed with the suddenness of Benito's announcement and its menacing
+augury, Inez sought her father and Adrian. The latter acted instantly.
+"Do not tell your wife," he said to Windham. "There may be nothing
+amiss. And if there should be, she will find no profit in knowing. Tell
+her you are called away and follow me to the square. We will ride at
+once to the rancho."
+
+He pressed Inez' hand and was gone. "Take care of your mother," he said
+over his shoulder, an admonition which Don Roberto repeated a moment
+later as he hurried out. She was left alone in a maze of doubts, fears,
+speculations. What was McTurpin doing in San Francisco? Why had he and
+his companions ridden toward the Windham rancho? There was only one
+answer. Most of the vaqueros were at a fandango in the Mission. Only the
+serving women and a few men too old for dancing remained at home.
+
+Meawhile her brother, father, lover were speeding homeward, into what? A
+trap? An ambush? Certainly to battle with a foe out-numbering them
+four to one.
+
+At the Mission were a dozen of their servants; men whose fathers and
+grandfathers had ridden herd for her family. Any one of them would give
+his life to serve a Windham.
+
+Inez looked about her feverishly. Should she ask O'Farrell to accompany
+her? He was dancing with one of the Mormon women. Brannan and Spear were
+not to be seen. Leidesdorff was impossible in such an emergency.
+Besides, she could not take him from his guests. She would go alone,
+decided Inez. Quietly she made her way to the cloak-room, in charge of
+an Indian servant, caught up her mantilla and riding crop and fled. On
+the square her horse whinnied at her approach as if eager to be gone.
+Swiftly she climbed into the saddle and spurred forward.
+
+Far ahead gleamed the lights of the Mission. They were making merry
+there with the games and dance of old Spain. And to the south Benito,
+Adrian, her father, rode toward a battle with treacherous men.
+Breathlessly she spurred her horse to greater effort. Trees flashed by
+like witches in the dark. Presently she heard the music of the fandango.
+
+Another picture framed itself before her vision. Excited faces round
+her. A sudden stoppage of the music, a frocked priest making anxious
+inquiries. Her own wild words; a jingle of spurs. Then many hoofs
+pounding on the road beside her.
+
+She never knew just what had happened, what she had said. But now she
+felt the sting of the bay breeze in her face and Antonio's steady hand
+upon her saddle pommel.
+
+"Caramba!" he was muttering. "The pig of a gringo once more. And your
+father; the little Benito. Hurry, comrades, faster! faster! To
+the rescue!"
+
+Came a third picture, finally more clear, more disconcerting. The
+entrance to her father's ranch barred by armed riders. McTurpin smiling
+insolent in the moonlight, bowing to her while Antonio muttered in
+suppressed wrath.
+
+"We have three hostages here, senorita ... relatives of yours and ah--a
+friend." His voice, cold, threatening, spoke on. "They are
+unharmed--as yet."
+
+"I don't believe you," Inez stormed at him.
+
+"Tell them, Senor Windham," said McTurpin, "that I speak the truth."
+
+"Inez, it is true," her father spoke out of some shadowed darkness. "We
+were ambushed. Taken by surprise."
+
+"What do you propose?" asked Antonio, unable longer to restrain himself.
+
+"To turn them loose ... upon their word not to trouble us further,"
+said McTurpin. "I have merely assumed control of my property. I hold the
+conveyance of Benito Windham. It is all quite regular," he
+laughed shortly.
+
+Antonio moved uneasily. His hand upon the lariat itched for a cast.
+McTurpin saw it. "You'll do well to sit still in the saddle," he
+reminded, "all of you. We have you covered."
+
+"What are your orders, master?" said the chief vaquero tensely. "Say the
+word and we will--"
+
+"No," commanded Windham. "There shall be no fighting now. We will go.
+Tomorrow we shall visit the Alcalde. I can promise no more than this."
+
+"It's enough," McTurpin answered. "I've possession. I've a deed with
+your son's signature. And a dozen good friends to uphold me." He turned.
+"Take their pistols, friends, and let them go."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+George Hyde looked up from a sheaf of drawing which lay on the table
+before him and which represented the new survey of San Francisco. A boy
+with a bundle of papers under his arm entered unannounced, tossed a copy
+of "The California Star" toward him and departed. Hyde picked it up
+and read:
+
+     "GREAT SALE OF VALUABLE REAL ESTATE IN THE TOWN OF SAN
+     FRANCISCO, UPPER CALIFORNIA.
+
+     "By the following decree of His Excellency, General S.W.
+     Kearny, Governor of California, all the right, title and
+     interest of the United States and of the territory of
+     California to the BEACH AND WATER lots on the east front of
+     the town of San Francisco have been granted, conveyed and
+     released to the people or corporate authorities of said
+     town--"
+
+Hyde read on. There was a post-script by Edwin Bryant, his predecessor
+as alcalde, calling a public sale for June 29. That was rather soon.
+But he would see. Hyde had an antipathy to any rule or circumstance
+fixed by another. His enemies called him "pig-headed"; his friends
+"forceful," though with a sigh. There was something highhanded in the
+look and manner of him, though few men had better intent. Now his glance
+fell on another, smaller item in the newspaper.
+
+     "SYDNEY DUCKS ARRIVE."
+
+     "In recent vessels from the antipodes have come numerous men
+     from Australia who, according to rumor, are deported English
+     criminals, known as 'Sydney Ducks.' It is said that the
+     English government winks at the escape of these birds of ill
+     omen, who are lured hither by tales of our lawlessness
+     carried by sailormen. It is high time we had a little more
+     law in San Francisco."
+
+That was another of his problems, Hyde reflected irritably. "Sydney
+Ducks." There would be many more no doubt, for San Francisco was
+growing. It had 500 citizens, irrespective of the New York volunteers;
+157 buildings. He would need helpers in the task of city-governing. Half
+idly he jotted down the names of men that would prove good henchmen:
+
+"William A. Leidesdorff, Robert A. Parker, Jose P. Thompson, Pedro
+Sherreback, John Rose, Benjamin Buckalew."
+
+It had a cosmopolitan smack, though it ignored some prominent and
+capable San Franciscans. William Clark, for instance, with whom
+Washington Bartlett had quarreled over town lots, Dr. Elbert Jones and
+William Howard. Hyde was not certain whether they would be amenable to
+his program. Well, he would see.
+
+A shadow loomed in his doorway. He looked up to see Adrian Stanley and
+Robert Windham.
+
+"Come in. Come in." He tried to speak cordially, but there was a shade
+of irritation in his tone. They, too, were a problem.
+
+"Be seated," he invited, as the two men entered. But they stood before
+him rather stiffly.
+
+"Is there any--news?" asked Adrian.
+
+"Nothing favorable," said Hyde uneasily. He made an impatient gesture.
+"You can see for yourselves, gentlemen, that my hands are tied. The
+man--what's-his-name?--McTurpin, has a perfectly correct conveyance
+signed by your son. Benito, I understand, does not deny his signature.
+And his right is unquestioned, for the property came to him direct from
+his uncle, who was Francisco Garvez' only son."
+
+"But--" began Adrian hotly.
+
+"Yes, yes, I know," Hyde interrupted. "The man is a rascal. But what of
+that? It does not help us; I have no power to aid you, gentlemen."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE AUCTION ON THE BEACH
+
+It was the morning of July 20. Fog drifts rode the bay like huge white
+swans, shrouding the Island of Alcatraz with a rise and fall of
+impalpable wings and casting many a whilom plume over the tents and
+adobe houses nestling between sandhills and scrub-oaks in the cove of
+San Francisco.
+
+Robert and Benito Windham, on the hill above Clark's Point, looked down
+toward the beach, where a crowd was gathering for the auction of
+tidewater lots. The Windhams, since their dispossession by McTurpin, had
+been guests of hospitable Juana Briones. Through the Alcalde's order
+they had secured their personal effects. But the former gambler still
+held right and title to the Windham acres. Adrian Stanley made his home
+at the City Hotel and had been occupied with an impromptu school where
+some four score children and half a dozen illiterates were daily taught
+the mysteries of the "Three Rs."
+
+"Adrian has determined to buy some of these mud-lots," said Windham to
+his son. "He believes some day they will be valuable and that he will
+make his fortune." He sighed. "I fear my son-to-be is something of a
+visionary."
+
+Benito gave his father a quick, almost furtive glance. "Do not condemn
+him for that," he said, with a hint of reproach. "Adrian is far-sighted,
+yes; but not a dreamer."
+
+"What can he do with a square of bog that is covered half of the time by
+water?" asked Windham.
+
+"Ah," Benito said, "we've talked that over, Adrian and I. Adrian has a
+plan of reclamation. An engineering project for leveling sandhills by
+contract and using the waste to cover his land. He has already arranged
+for ox-teams and wagons. It is perfectly feasible, my father."
+
+Robert Windham smiled at the other's enthusiasm. "Perhaps you are
+right," he said. "God grant it--and justify your faith in that huddle of
+huts below."
+
+Below them a man had mounted an improvised platform. He was waving his
+arms, haranguing an ever-growing audience. Benito stirred uneasily. "I
+must go," he said. "I promised Adrian to join him."
+
+"Very well," returned his father. He watched the slight and supple
+figure riding down the slope.
+
+Slowly he made his way back to the Rancho Briones. His wife met him at
+the gate.
+
+"Juana and Inez have gone to the sale," she announced. "Shall we join
+them in the pueblo later on?"
+
+"Nay, Anita," he said, "unless you wish it.... I have no faith in mire."
+
+She looked up at him anxiously. "Roberto! I grieve to hear it. They--"
+she checked herself.
+
+"They--what, my love?" he asked curiously.
+
+"They have gone to buy," said Anita. "Juana has great faith. She has
+considerable money. And Inez has taken her jewels--even a few of mine.
+The Senor O'Farrell whispered to her at the ball that the lots would
+sell for little and their value would increase immensely."
+
+"So, that is why Benito has his silver-mounted harness," Windham spoke
+half to himself. He smiled a little ruefully. "You are all gamblers,
+dreamers.... You dear ones of Spanish heritage."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the beach a strangely varied human herd pressed close around a
+platform upon which stood Samuel Brannan and Alcalde Hyde. The former
+had promised to act as auctioneer and looked over a sheaf of notes while
+Hyde in his dry, precise and positive tone read the details of the
+forthcoming sale. It would last three days, Hyde informed his hearers,
+and 450 lots would be sold. North of the broad street paralleling the
+Mission Camino lots were sixteen and a half varas wide and fifty varas
+deep. All were between the limits of low and high water mark.
+
+"What's a vara?" shouted a new arrival.
+
+"A Spanish yard," explained Hyde, "about thirty-three and a third inches
+of English measure. Gentlemen, you are required to fence your lots and
+build a house within a year. The fees for recording and deed will be
+$3.62, and the terms of payment are a fourth down, the balance in equal
+payments during a period of eighteen months."
+
+"How about the lots that lie south?" cried a voice.
+
+"They are one hundred varas square, same terms, same fees," replied
+Hyde. He stepped down and Brannan began his address.
+
+"The site of San Francisco is known to all navigators and mercantile men
+to be the most commanding commercial position on the entire eastern
+coast of the Pacific Ocean," he shouted, quoting from former Alcalde
+Bryant's announcement of three months previous. "The town itself is
+destined to become the commercial emporium of western America."
+
+"Bravo!" supplemented the Dona Briones, waving her fan. She was the
+center of a little group composed of Benito and Inez Windham, Adrian
+Stanley and Nathan Spear. Near them, keeping out of their observance,
+stood Aleck McTurpin.
+
+"The property offered for sale is the most valuable in or belonging to
+the town," Brannan went on, enthusiastically; "it will require work to
+make it tenable. You'll have to wrest it from the waves, gentlemen ...
+and ladies," he bowed to Juana and her companion, "but, take my word for
+it--and I've never deceived you--everyone who buys will bless my memory
+half a dozen years from now...."
+
+"Why don't ye get in yerself and practice what ye preach?" cried a
+scoffing sailor.
+
+Brannan looked him up and down. "Because I'm trying to serve the
+commonwealth--which is more than a drunken deserter from his ship can
+claim," he shot back hotly, "but I'm going to buy my share, never fear.
+Bill Leidesdorff's my agent. He has $5,000 and my power of attorney.
+That's fair enough, isn't it boys? Or, shall we let the sailor act as
+auctioneer?"
+
+"No! No!" a dozen cried. "'Rah for Sam. Go on! You're doin' fine!"
+
+"Thank you," Brannan acknowledged. "Who's to make the first bid? Speak
+up, now, don't be bashful."
+
+"Twenty-five dollars," called Juana Briones.
+
+"Thirty," said a voice behind her, a voice that caused young Windham and
+his sister to start, involuntarily. "McTurpin," whispered Inez
+to Adrian.
+
+"Thirty-five," spoke Juana, imperturbably.
+
+"Forty."
+
+Brannan looked straight into McTurpin's eyes. "Sold to Juana Briones for
+thirty-five dollars," he said, as his improvised gavel fell on the table
+before him.
+
+"I bid forty!" stormed McTurpin. All eyes turned to him. But Brannan
+paid him no attention. Someone laughed.
+
+"Next! Who bids?" invited the auctioneer.
+
+"Twenty-five," began Benito.
+
+This time there were other bidders, all of whom Brannan recognized
+courteously and promptly. Finally, Benito's bid of fifty seemed to win.
+Then McTurpin shouted, "Fifty-five!"
+
+Brannan waited for a moment. There were no more bids. "Sold to Benito
+Windham for fifty dollars," he announced.
+
+"Curse you!" cried the gambler, pushing forward, "you heard me bid
+higher, Sam Brannan!"
+
+Into his path stepped the tall figure of Robert Windham. "We are not
+taking bids from convicts," he said, loudly and distinctly.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+THE BEGINNING OF LAW
+
+McTurpin's look of blind astonishment at Windham's words was succeeded
+by a whitehot fury. Two eyes gleamed with snake-like venom and two spots
+of red glowed in his cheeks, as though each had felt the impact of a
+sudden blow. For a moment he neither moved nor spoke. Then a hand, which
+trembled slightly, made a lightning move toward his hip.
+
+"I wouldn't," drawled the voice of Robert Windham. His right hand,
+loosely in a pocket of his coat, moved slightly. "I've got you covered,
+Sydney Duck McTurpin ... if that's your real name."
+
+The other's hand fell at his side. The two men's glances countered, held
+each other, one calm, dignified, unafraid; the other, murderous,
+searching, baffled. Presently, McTurpin turned and strode away. Windham
+looked after the departing gambler. "'Fraid I've spoiled his morning,"
+he remarked to Nathan Spear.
+
+"Yes--to chance a knife or bullet in the back," retorted Spear,
+uneasily. Their further confidence was drowned in Brannan's
+exhortations: "On with the sale, boys," he shouted. "The side show's
+over ... with nobody hurt, thank Heaven! What'll you bid for a lot in
+the southern part of town? They're a hundred varas square--four times as
+big as the others. Not as central, maybe, but in ten years I bet they'll
+bring a thousand dollars. What's bid for a south lot, my hearties?"
+
+"Twenty-five dollars," said Inez Windham.
+
+"Oh, come, now, Senorita," cried the auctioneer, intriguingly,
+"twenty-five dollars for a hundred-vara lot. Have you no more faith in
+San Francisco?"
+
+"Its--all I have...." the girl spoke almost in a whisper.
+
+Brannan frowned. He looked about him threateningly. "Does anyone bid
+higher than Miss Windham?" he demanded. There was no response. Brannan's
+gavel fell, decisively. "Sold!" he cried, and half a dozen
+voices cheered.
+
+Inez Windham made her way to the auctioneer's stand and handed three
+banknotes to Alcalde Hyde. "But, my dear young lady," he expostulated,
+"you need only pay a fourth of the money down. Six dollars and a quarter
+is enough."
+
+"Oh," said Inez, "then I could have bought more, couldn't I!" She turned
+to Brannan, eagerly. "I could have bought four lots--if I'd only known."
+
+Brannan smiled at her. Then he turned to the crowd. "What d'ye say,
+boys, shall we let her have 'em?" he inquired. Instantly the answer
+came: "Yes, yes, give her the four. God bless her. She'll bring
+us luck."
+
+Impulsively, Inez mounted the platform; astonished at her own temerity,
+at the exuberance of some new freedom, springing from the barriers of a
+shielded life, she shouted at these strange, rough men about her: "Thank
+you, gentlemen!" Then her mother's look of horrified, surprise brought a
+sudden red into her cheeks. She turned and fled. Her father smiled,
+indulgently; Anita's frown changed presently into a look of whimsical,
+perplexed affection. "I am always forgetting, Inez mia," she said,
+softly, "that this is a new day--the day of the Americano."
+
+She watched Benito shouting bids at the side of Adrian, vying with such
+men as Howard, Mellus, Clark and Leidesdorff in the quest for lots.
+"Fifty of them have been sold already," Windham told her. "The auction
+will last three days because there are four hundred more."
+
+Suddenly, Anita Windham put forth a hand and touched that of her
+husband. "Buy one, for me, Roberto," she pleaded.
+
+"But--" he hesitated, "Anita carissima, what will you do with a
+rectangle of mire in this rough, unsettled place?"
+
+"For sentiment," she answered, softly, "in memory of my father, who had
+such abundant faith in San Francisco.... And, perhaps, Don Samuel is
+right. We may yet bless his name."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The summer of 1847 had passed. Inez Windham was the wife of Adrian
+Stanley. He had given up his school for larger matters. Every day his
+ox-teams struggled over sandy bottoms to the tune of snapping whips and
+picturesque profanity by Indian drivers. Men with shovels leveling the
+sand hills, piled the wagons high with shimmering white grains which
+were carried to the shore and dumped into pile-surrounded bogs till the
+tides left them high and dry. San Francisco reached farther and farther
+into the bay, wresting irregular nooks and corners from the
+ebbing-flowing waters, building rickety, improvised piers, sometimes
+washed out by the northers which unexpectedly came down with tempestuous
+fury. Quaint, haphazard buildings made their appearance, strange
+architectural mushrooms grown almost over night, clapboarded squares
+with paper or muslin partitions for inner walls. Under some the tides
+washed at their full and small craft discharged cargoes at their back
+doors. Ships came from Boston, Bremen, Sitka, Chile, Mexico, the
+Sandwich Islands, bringing all manner of necessities and luxuries.
+Monthly mails had been established between San Francisco and San Diego,
+as well as intermediate points, and there was talk of a pony express to
+Independence, Missouri.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There were many crimes of high and low degree, from rifled tills to dead
+men found half buried in the sands. Rumor told of thieves and murderers
+encamped in the hollow bowl of a great sandhill, where they slept or
+caroused by day, venturing forth only at night. Aleck McTurpin's name
+was now and then associated with them as a leader. Men were importing
+safes from the States and carrying derringers at night--even the
+peaceful Mormons. At this time Governor Mason addressed to Alcalde Hyde
+an order for the election of a Town Council.
+
+Adrian was full of these doings when he came home from an executive
+session before which he had appeared as an expert on reclamation. "They
+are good men, Inez," he declared, enthusiastically. "They'll bring law
+to San Francisco. And law is what we need more than all else, my dear."
+
+"And how will they go about it, with no prison-house, no courts or
+judges?" asked Inez, wonderingly.
+
+"Oh, those will soon be provided," he assured, "When there is a will for
+law the machinery comes." He smiled grimly. "McTurpin and his ilk had
+better look to themselves.... We are going after the gamblers."
+
+[Illustration:
+Men with shovels, leveling the sand-hills, piled the wagons high with
+shimmering grains which were dumped into pile-surrounded bogs. San
+Francisco reached farther and farther out into the bay.]
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+GOLD! GOLD! GOLD!
+
+San Francisco never could remember when the first rumor of gold reached
+it. Gold was to mean its transformation from a struggling town into a
+turbulent, riotous city, a mecca of the world's adventurers.
+
+Benito Windham, early in the spring of '48 brought home an echo of it
+from San Jose. One of Sutter's teamsters had exchanged a little pouch of
+golden grains for a flask of aguardiente. Afterward he had told of
+finding it in the tail-race of Marshall's mill on the south fork of the
+American River. Little credence had been given his announcements. In the
+south, near San Fernando Mission, gold had long ago been found, but not
+in sufficient quantities to allure the fortune hunter.
+
+"See, is it not pretty?" asked Benito, pouring out a handful of the
+shining stuff which he had purchased from the teamster.
+
+"Pretty, yes, but what's it worth?" asked Adrian, dubiously.
+
+"Some say it's true value is $16 for an ounce," responded Inez, her eyes
+shining. "Samuel Brannan had a letter from a member of his band who says
+they wash it from the river sand in pans."
+
+"Sam's skeptical, though," retorted Stanley. "And, as for me, I've a
+mine right here in San Francisco." He spoke enthusiastically. "Moving
+sandhills into the bay. Making a new city front out of flooded bogs!
+That's realism. Romance. And what's better, fortune! Isn't it, my girl?"
+
+Inez' eyes were proud. "Fortune, yes, and not a selfish one. For it is
+making others richer, San Francisco better."
+
+"Which is well enough for you," returned Benito with a hint of
+sullenness. "But I am tired of clerking for Ward & Smith at two dollars
+a day. There's no romance in that." With a quick, restless motion he ran
+the golden dust through his fingers again. "I hope they are true, these
+stories. And if they are--" he looked at the others challengingly, "then
+I'm off to the mines, muy pronto."
+
+"Come," said Stanley, "let us have a game of chess together." But
+Benito, with a muttered apology, left them and went out. San Francisco
+had streets now, since the O'Farrell survey's adoption by the council.
+The old Calle de Fundacion had become Dupont street and below it was
+Kearny street, named after the General and former Governor. To the west
+were parallel roads, scarcely worthy of the name of thoroughfares,
+christened in honor of Commodore Stockton, Surgeon Powell of the
+sloop-of-war Warren, Dr. Elbert Jones, Governor Mason, Chaplain
+Leavenworth, the present Alcalde, and George Hyde, the former one.
+Thomas Larkin, former counsel at Monterey, was also to be distinguished.
+East and west the streets had more haphazard names. Broadway and
+California were the widest, aside from the projected Market street,
+which would have a lordly breadth of 120 feet. Some were named after
+Presidents--Jackson, Washington and Clay.
+
+The council had authorized two long wharves, one at the foot of Clay
+street, 547 feet long. This was a great undertaking and had caused much
+discussion pro and con. But now it was almost completed and a matter of
+much civic pride. Large ships, anchored at its terminus, were
+discharging cargo, and thither Benito bent his course, head bent, hat
+pulled well down on his forehead, until a rousing slap on the back spun
+him around almost angrily. He looked into the wise and smiling eyes of
+Edward C. Kemble.
+
+"Well, lad," the editor of the _Californian Star_ accosted, "I hear
+you've been to San Jose. What's new up there, if I may ask you?"
+
+"Very little ... nothing," said Benito, adding, "save the talk of gold
+at Marshall's mill."
+
+"Pooh!" exclaimed the editor. "Marshall's mill, and Mormon island! One
+would think the famous fairy tale of El Dorado had come true."
+
+"You place no credence in it, then?" asked Benito, disappointed.
+
+"Not I," said Kemble. "See here," he struck one fist into the palm of
+another. "All such balderdash is bad for San Francisco. We're trying to
+get ahead, grow, be a city. Look at the work going on. That means
+progress, sustained stimulus. And along come these stories of gold
+finds. It's the wrong time. The wrong time, I tell you. It'll interfere.
+If we get folks excited they'll pull out for the hills, the wilderness.
+Everything'll stop here.... Then, bye and bye, they'll come
+back--busted! Mark my words, BUSTED! Is that business? No."
+
+He went off shaking his head sagely. Benito puzzled, half resentful,
+gazed after him. He abandoned the walk to the dock and returned with
+low-spirited resignation to his tasks at Ward & Smith's store.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For several months gold rumors continued to come. Citizens, fearing
+ridicule, perhaps, slipped unobtrusively out of town, to test their
+truth. Kemble was back from a trip to the so-called gold fields.
+Editorially, he made sport of his findings. He had seen feather-brained
+fortune-seekers gambling hopelessly with fate, suffering untold
+hardships for half the pay they could have gained from "honest labor."
+
+Now and then a miner, dirty and disheveled, came in ragged clothes to
+gamble or drink away the contents of a pouch of "dust." It was at first
+received suspiciously. Barkeepers took "a pinch for a drink," meaning
+what they could grasp with their fingers, and one huge-fisted man
+estimated that this method netted him three dollars per glass.
+
+San Francisco awoke to a famine in butcher-knives, pans and candles.
+Knives at first were used to gouge out auriferous rock, and soon these
+common household appurtenances brought as high as twenty-five dollars
+each. Candles ere long were the equivalent of dollars, and pans were
+cheap at five dollars each.
+
+Still San Francisco waited, though a constant dribble of departures made
+at last perceptible inroads on its population. Then, one May afternoon,
+the fat was in the fire.
+
+Samuel Brannan, who had been at his store in New Helvetia, rode through
+the streets, holding a pint flask of gold-dust in one hand, swinging his
+hat with the other, and whooping like a madman:
+
+"Gold! Gold! Gold! From the American River!"
+
+As if he had applied a torch to the hayrick of popular interest, San
+Francisco flamed with fortune-seeking ardor. Next morning many stores
+remained unopened. There were neither clerks nor proprietors. Soldiers
+fled from the garrison, and Lieutenant William T. Sherman was seen
+galloping northward with a provost guard to recapture a score of
+deserters. Children found no teacher at the new schoolhouse and for
+months its doors were barred. Cargoes, half-discharged, lay on the
+wharves, unwarehoused. Crews left en masse for the mines, and ships
+floated unmanned at anchor. Many of them never went to sea again.
+
+On every road a hegira of the gold-mad swept northward, many afoot, with
+heavy burdens, the more fortunate with horses and pack animals. Men,
+old, young, richly dressed and ragged--men of all conditions,
+races, nations.
+
+The end of May, in 1848, found San Francisco a manless Eden. Stanley,
+struggling with a few elderly Indians and squaws to carry on his work,
+bemoaned the madcap folly bitterly.
+
+[Illustration: Samuel Brannan rode through the streets, holding a pint
+flask of gold-dust in one hand ... and whooping like a madman: "Gold!
+Gold! Gold! From the American River!"]
+
+But Benito, with shining eyes, rode on to what seemed Destiny and
+Fortune. Ward & Smith's little shop lay far behind him. Even his sister
+and her busy husband. Before him beckoned Gold! The lure, adventure,
+danger of it, like a smiling woman. And his spirit stretched forth
+longing arms.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+THE QUEST OF FORTUNE
+
+By the end of June more than half of San Francisco's population had
+departed for the mines. They went by varied routes, mostly on horseback.
+Rowboats, which a month ago had sold for $50, were now bringing ten
+times that sum, for many took the river route to the gold fields. Others
+toiled their way through the hills and the Livermore Valley. The ferry
+across Carquinez Straits at Benicia, was thronged to the danger
+of sinking.
+
+Those who stayed at home awaited eagerly the irregular mails which
+straggled in from unsettled, unorganized, often inaccessible regions
+where men cut and slashed the bowels of the earth for precious metal, or
+waded knee-deep in icy torrents, washing their sands in shallow
+containers for golden residue. No letter had come from Benito to Inez or
+Adrian. But Robert Windham wrote from Monterey as follows:
+
+"My Children: Monterey is mad with the gold-lust, and our citizens are
+departing with a haste that threatens depopulation. Until recently we
+had small belief in the tales of sudden fortune started by the finds at
+Marshall's mill. Alcalde Colton dispatched a messenger to the American
+River on the 6th of June, and, though he has not returned, others have
+brought the news he was sent to gain. On the 12th a man came into town
+with a nugget weighing an ounce and all Monterey Buzzed with excitement.
+Everyone wanted to test it with acids and microscopes. An old woman
+brought her ring and when placed side by side, the metal seemed
+identical; it was also compared with the gold knob of a cane. Some
+declare it a humbug, but it is generally believed to be genuine gold.
+
+"Governor Mason, who has been messing with Alcalde Colton and a naval
+officer named Lieutenant Lanman, is now compelled to bake his own bread.
+The trio roast their coffee and cook what meals they eat. Even the negro
+who blacked their boots went gold hunting and returned after a few weeks
+with $2000.
+
+"Yesterday I met a rough-looking fellow who appeared to be starving. He
+had a sack on his shoulder in which was gold-dust and nuggets worth
+$15,000. You should have seen him a few hours later--all perfumed and
+barbered, with shiny boots; costly, ill-fitting clothes and a marvelous
+display of jewelry.
+
+"Alcalde Colton is going to the mines next month. He laughed when he
+told me of Henry Bee, the alguacil or jailor of San Jose. This man had
+charge of ten prisoners, some of whom were Indians, charged with murder.
+He tried to turn them over to the alcalde, but the latter was at the
+mines. So Bee took his prisoners with him. It is said their digging has
+already made him rich and that he'll let them loose. There is no one to
+chide him. And no one to care."
+
+Later in the day Sam Brannan and Editor Kemble looked in on the
+Stanleys. "It's sheer insanity!" exploded Kemble. "The soldiers have
+gone--left their wives and their children to starve. Even the church is
+locked. Governor Mason has threatened martial law in the mining regions,
+which are filled with cutthroats and robbers. It's said he contemplates
+giving furloughs of two or three months to the gold-fevered troops which
+remain. Was there ever such idiocy?"
+
+"You're wrong, Ed," Brannan told him. "This gold boom is the biggest
+thing that's ever happened. It'll bring the world to our door. Why,
+Mason has reported that gold enough's been taken from the mines already
+to pay for the Mexican war."
+
+"Bah!" cried Kemble, and stalked out muttering. Brannan laughed. "He's
+riding his hobby consistently. But he'll come down. So you've had no
+news from Benito?"
+
+"No," said Inez gloomily. "Perhaps it is too soon. Perhaps he has had no
+luck to tell us of as yet. But I wish he would write just a line."
+
+"Well, well, cheer up, my dear," said Brannan, reassuringly. "Benito can
+take care of himself. Next week I return to my store in the gold lands,
+and I'll have an eye out for the lad. How does your work go, Adrian?"
+
+"Poorly," answered Stanley. "Labor's too high to make money. Why, the
+common laborers who were satisfied with a dollar a day, now ask ten, and
+mechanics twenty. Even the Indians and the immigrants learn at once the
+crazy price of service."
+
+"San Francisco. Port o' Gold!" apostrophized the Mormon gaily. He went
+on his way with a friendly wave of the hand. His steps were bent toward
+Alcalde Hyde's headquarters. Hyde had made many enemies by his set,
+opinionated ways. There was talk of putting Rev. Thaddeus Leavenworth in
+his place. But Brannan was by no means certain this would solve the
+problem. He missed Leidesdorff sadly. The latter's sudden death had left
+a serious hiatus. He was used to talking problems over with the genial,
+hospitable Dane, whose counsel was always placid, well considered.
+
+Congress had failed to provide a government for California. San
+Francisco grumbled; more than all other towns she needed law.
+Stevenson's regiment had been disbanded; its many irresponsibles, held
+previously in check by military discipline, now indulged their bent for
+lawlessness, unstinted. Everything was confusion. Gold-dust was the
+legal tender, but its value was unfixed. The government accepted it at
+$10 per ounce, with the privilege of redemption in coin.
+
+The problem of land grants was becoming serious. There were more than
+hints of the alcalde's speculation; of illegal favors shown to friends,
+undue restrictions placed on others. Brannan shook his head as he
+climbed Washington street hill toward the alcalde's office. In the plaza
+stood a few mangy horses, too decrepit for sale to gold seekers.
+Gambling houses and saloons ringed the square and from these proceeded
+drunken shouts, an incessant click of poker chips; now and then a
+burst of song.
+
+The sound of a shot swung him swiftly about. It came from the door of a
+noisy and crowded mart of chance recently erected, but already the scene
+of many quarrels. The blare of music which had issued from it swiftly
+ceased. There was a momentary silence; then a sound of shuffling feet,
+of whispering voices.
+
+A man ran out into the street as if the devil were after him; another
+followed, staggering, a pistol in his hand. He fired one shot and then
+collapsed with horrid suddenness at Brannan's feet. The other man ran
+into Portsmouth Square, vaulted to the saddle of a horse and spurred
+furiously away.
+
+Brannan stooped over the fallen figure. It was that of a brawny, bearded
+man, red-shirted, booted, evidently a miner. That he was mortally
+wounded his gazing eyes gave evidence. Yet such was his immense vitality
+that he muttered, clutching at his throat--staving off dissolution with
+the mighty passionate vehemence of some dominating purpose. Brannan bent
+to listen.
+
+"Write," he gasped, and Brannan, with an understanding nod, obeyed. "I
+bequeath my claim ... south fork ... American River ... fifty feet from
+end of Lone Pine's shadow ... sunset ... to my pard ... Benito Wind--"
+His voice broke, but his eyes watched Brannan's movements as the latter
+wrote. Dying hands grasped paper, pencil ... signed a scrawling
+signature, "Joe Burthen." Then the head dropped back, rolled for a
+moment and lay still.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+NEWS OF BENITO
+
+Brannan turned from contemplation of the dead to find himself surrounded
+by a curious, questioning group. A bartender, coatless, red-faced,
+grasping in one hand a heavy bung-starter as if it were a weapon of
+defense; a gambler, sleeves rolled up, five cards clutched in nervous
+fingers; half a dozen sailors, vaqueros, a ragged miner or two and
+several shortskirted young women of the class that had recently drifted
+into the hectic night-life of San Francisco. All were whispering
+excitedly. Some of the men, with a show of reverence, removed
+their hats.
+
+"Do you know who did this?" Brannan asked.
+
+"I saw it," cried one of the women. She was dressed as a Spanish dancer
+and in one hand held a tambourine and castanets. "They fight," she gave
+a little smirk of vanity, "about me."
+
+Brannan recognized her as Rosa Terranza, better known as Ensenada Rose.
+She had been the cause of many rivalries and quarrels.
+
+"Dandy" Carter, the gambler, let down his sleeves and thrust the cards
+into his pocket.
+
+"Rose was dealin' faro," he explained, "and this galoot here bucks the
+game.... He lose. You un'erstan'. He lose a lot o' dust ... as much as
+forty ounces. Then--just like that--he stops." The gambler snapped his
+fingers. "He says, 'My little gal; my partner! God Almighty! I'm
+a-wrongin' them!' He starts to go, but Rose acts mighty sympathetic and
+he tells her all about the kid."
+
+"Hees little girl," the dancer finished. "I say we dreenk her health
+together, and he tell me of the senorita. He draw a picture of his claim
+with trees and river and a mountain--ver' fine, like an artist. And he
+say, 'You come and marry me and be a mother to my child'." She laughed
+grimly. "He was ver' much drunk ... and then--"
+
+"That Sydney Duck comes in," said Dandy Carter. "He sits down at the
+table with 'em. They begins to quarrel over Rose. And the fust I knows
+there was a gun went off; the girl yells and the other man vamooses,
+with this feller staggerin' after."
+
+"He shot from under the table," a sailor volunteered. "'Twas murder.
+Where I come from they'd a-hanged him for't."
+
+"But who was he?" Brannan asked the question in another form. The girl
+and Dandy Carter looked at one another, furtively. "I--don't know his
+name," the girl said, finally.
+
+"Don't any of you?" Brannan's tone was searching. But it brought no
+answer. Several shook their heads. Ensenada Rose shivered. "It's cold. I
+go back in," she said, and turned from them. Brannan stopped her with a
+sudden gesture. "Wait," he ordered. "Where's the map ... the paper this
+man showed you ... of his mine?"
+
+Ensenada Rose's eyes looked into Brannan's, with a note of challenge her
+chin went up. "Quien sabe?" she retorted. Brannan watched the slender,
+graceful figure vanish through the lighted door. In her trail the
+gambler and bartender followed. Presently a burst of music issued from
+the groggery; a tap-tap-tap of feet in rhythm to the click of castanets.
+Already the tragedy was forgotten. Brannan found himself face to face
+with the sailor. "I'll help you carry him--somewhere," he said. He
+raised the dead man's shoulders from the ground, and Brannan, following
+his suggestion, took the other end of the grim burden, which they bore
+to the City Hotel. Brannan, in the presence of Alcalde Hyde, searched
+Burthen's clothing for the plan which Rosa had described. But they did
+not find it; only a buckskin bag with a few grains of gold-dust at the
+bottom, a jackknife, a plug of tobacco, a scratched daguerreotype of a
+young girl with corkscrew curls and friendly eyes.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Next evening Nathan Spear chanced in to see the Stanleys. "Sam Brannan's
+gone," he told them. "Said he'd let you know about Benito. And here's a
+letter from Alcalde Colton of Monterey--who's at the gold-fields now."
+
+"Has he seen my brother?" Inez questioned, eagerly.
+
+Spear began to read: "Young Benito Windham has been near here for a
+fortnight. I am told, without much luck, He had to sell his horse and
+saddle, for the price of living is enormous; finally he paired off with
+a man named Burthen--strapping, bearded Kansan with a little daughter,
+about 17. They struck a claim, and Burthen's on the way to San Francisco
+for supplies. I'll tell you more when I have seen the lad and had a talk
+with him. The girl, I understand, was keeping house for them. A pretty,
+wistful little thing, they tell me, so I'd better keep an eye on
+Friend Benito."
+
+"Have you seen this Burthen? Is he here?" asked Stanley.
+
+"He was robbed--and killed last night at the Eldorado."
+
+"Sanctissima!" cried the girl, and crossed herself. "Then the little
+one's an orphan. And Benito--"
+
+"Her guardian, no doubt."
+
+Spear laughed. "He writes that a miner gave $24 in gold-dust for a box
+of seidlitz powders; another paid a dollar a drop for laudanum to cure
+his toothache. Flour is $400 per barrel, whisky $20 for a quart bottle,
+and sugar $4 a pound. 'It's a mad world, my masters,' as Shakespeare
+puts it, but a golden one. By and by this wealth will flow into your
+coffers down in San Francisco. Just now there is little disturbance, but
+it is bound to come. Several robberies and shootings have already taken
+place. There is one man whom I'd call an evil genius--a gambler, a
+handsome ruffian and a dead shot, so they tell me. It's rumored that he
+has a fancy for the little Burthen girl. Lord save her! Perhaps you
+know the rascal, for he hails, I understand, from San Francisco, one
+Alexander McTurpin."
+
+The three surveyed each other in a startled silence.
+
+"Benito and he are sure to quarrel," Inez whispered. "Madre Dolores!
+What can we do?"
+
+"Perhaps I'd better run up to the mines," said Adrian. "I've my own
+affair, you know, to settle with this fellow."
+
+"No, no, you must not," cried his wife in quick alarm.
+
+Spear smiled. "I wouldn't fret," he spoke assuringly. "Sam's gone up to
+see this fellow ... on a little business of his own."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+THE VEILED WOMAN
+
+Several months went by with no news from Benito. James Burthen had been
+buried in the little graveyard on a hill overlooking the bay. And that
+ended the matter in so far as San Francisco was concerned.
+
+In the Alta California, a consolidation of two rival papers, appeared a
+brief notice chronicling the death of an unidentified miner, whose
+assassin, also nameless, had escaped. Ensenada Rose, described as an
+exotic female of dubious antecedents and still more suspicious motives,
+had left the Eldorado on the morning after the shooting "for parts
+unknown." She was believed to hold some "key to the tragic mystery which
+it was not her purpose to reveal."
+
+But killings were becoming too familiar in the growing town to excite
+much comment. San Francisco's population had quadrupled in the past half
+year and men were streaming in by the hundreds from all quarters of the
+globe. Flimsy bunk-houses were hastily erected, springing up as if by
+magic overnight. Men stood in long lines for a chance at these sorry
+accommodations and the often sorrier meals which a score of enterprising
+culinary novices served at prices from one dollar up. Lodging was $30
+per month and at this price men slept on naked boards like sailors in a
+forecastle, one above the other. Often half a dozen pairs of blankets
+served a hundred sleepers. For as soon as a guest of these palatial
+hostelries began to snore the enterprising landlord stripped his body of
+its covering and served it to a later arrival.
+
+"If the town grows much faster it will be a tragedy," remarked Adrian
+to James Lick that afternoon. Lick had bought a city lot at Montgomery
+and Jackson streets and had already sold a portion of it for $30,000. He
+was a believer in San Francisco's future, and at San Jose his flour
+mill, once contemptuously called "Lick's folly," was grinding grain
+which at present prices brought almost its weight in gold.
+
+"Things always right themselves, my boy," he said. "Don't worry. Keep
+pegging away at your sand lots. Some day you'll be a millionaire."
+
+"But half of these people are homeless. And every day they come faster.
+In our neighborhood are a dozen ramshackle tents where these poor devils
+keep 'bachelors' hall' with little more than a skillet and a coffee pot.
+They call it 'ranching.'" He laughed. "What would our old land barons
+have thought of a rancho four by six feet, which the first of our trade
+winds will blow into the bay?"
+
+"The Lord," said Lick, devoutly, "tempers the wind to the shorn lamb.
+And also to the homeless squatter on our sandy shores."
+
+"I hope you're right," responded Stanley. "It does me good to hear
+someone speak of God in this godless place. It is full of thieves and
+cut-throats; they've a settlement at the base of the hill overlooking
+Clark's Point. No man's life is safe, they tell me, over there."
+
+Lick frowned. "They call it Sydney Town because so many Australian
+convicts have settled in it. Some day we'll form a citizens' committee
+and run them off."
+
+"Which reminds me," Lick retorted, "that McTurpin came to town this
+morning. With a veiled woman ... or girl. She looks little more than
+a child."
+
+Adrian surveyed the other, startled. "Child?" His mind was full of vague
+suspicions.
+
+"Well, she didn't weigh more than a hundred. Yes, they came--both on one
+horse, and the fellow's companion none too well pleased, I should say.
+Frightened, perhaps, though why she should be is a puzzle." Lick
+shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Has he taken the girl to his--the ranch?" asked Adrian.
+
+"Don't know. I reckon not," Lick answered. "They ate at the City Hotel.
+He'd a bag full of dust, so he'll gamble and guzzle till morning most
+likely." He regarded his friend keenly, a trifle uneasily. "Come, Adrian
+... I'll walk past your door with you."
+
+"I'm not going home just yet, thanks," Stanley's tone was nervously
+evasive.
+
+"Well, good-night, then," said the other with reluctance. He turned
+south on Kearny street toward his home. Stanley, looking after him,
+stood for a moment as if undetermined. Then he took his way across the
+Plaza toward the City Hotel.
+
+In the bar, a long and low-ceiling room, talk buzzed and smoke from many
+pipes made a bluish, acrid fog through which, Adrian, standing in the
+doorway, saw, imperfectly, a long line of men at the bar. Others sat at
+tables playing poker and drinking incessantly, men in red-flannel
+shirts, blue denim trousers tucked into high, wrinkled boots. They wore
+wide-brimmed hats, and cursed or spat with a fervor and vehemence that
+indicated enjoyment. Adrian presently made out the stocky form of
+McTurpin, glass upraised. Before him on the bar were a fat buckskin bag
+and a bottle. He was boasting of his luck at the mines.
+
+A companion "hefted" the treasure admiringly. "Did you make it gamblin',
+Alec?" he inquired.
+
+"No, by Harry!" said the other, tartly. "I'm no gambler any more. I'm a
+respectable gentleman with a mine and a ranch," he emptied his glass
+and, smacking his lips, continued, "and a beautiful young girl that
+loves me ... loves me. Understand?" His hand came down upon the other's
+shoulder with a sounding whack.
+
+"Where is she?" asked the other, coaxingly. "You're a cunning hombre,
+Alec. Leave us have a look at her, I say."
+
+"Bye and bye," McTurpin spoke more cautiously. "Bye and bye ... then you
+can be a witness to the marriage, Dave." He drew the second man aside
+across the room, so near to Adrian that the latter stepped back to avoid
+discovery.
+
+"She's a respectable lass," he heard McTurpin whisper. "Yes, it's marry
+or nothing with her ... and I'm willing enough, the Lord knows. Can ye
+find me a preacher, old fellow?"
+
+He could not make out the other's reply. Their voices died down to an
+imperceptible whisper as they moved farther away. Stanley thought they
+argued over something. Then the man called Dave passed him and went
+swiftly up the hill.
+
+Vaguely troubled, Stanley returned to the veranda. It was unoccupied for
+chilly evening breezes had driven the loungers indoors. Absently he
+paced the creaking boards and, having reached a corner of the building,
+continued his promenade along what seemed to be the rear of the
+building. Here a line of doors opened on the veranda like the upper
+staterooms of a ship.
+
+Why should he trouble his mind about McTurpin and a paramour? thought
+Adrian. Yet his thought was curiously disturbed. Something Spear had
+read from a letter vexed him dimly like a memory imperfectly recalled.
+What was there about McTurpin and a child? Whose child? And what had it
+to do with the veiled woman who had ridden with the gambler from the
+mines. Impishly the facts eluded him. Inez would know. But Inez must not
+be bothered just now--at this time.
+
+He paused and listened. Was that a woman sobbing? Of course not. Only
+his nerves, his silly sentiment. He would go home and forget the
+whole thing.
+
+There it was again. This time he could not be mistaken. Noiselessly he
+made his way toward the sound. It stopped. But presently it came again.
+From where? Ah, yes, the window with a broken pane.
+
+Soft, heartbroken, smothered wailing. Spasms of it. Then an interlude of
+silence. Adrian's heart beat rapidly. He tip-toed to the window, tried
+the door beside it. Locked. After a moment's hesitation he spoke,
+softly: "Is someone in trouble?"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+A CALL IN THE NIGHT
+
+There was no answer. For a second time Adrian's mind fought a belief
+that sense had tricked him. Now and then a shout from the bar-room
+reached him as he waited, listening. The wind whistled eerily through
+the scant-leaved scrub-oaks on the slopes above.
+
+But from the room at the window of which he listened there came no
+sound.
+
+Adrian felt like one hoaxed, made ridiculous by his own sentimentality.
+He strode on. But when he reached the farther corner some involuntary
+impulse turned him back. And again the sound of muffled sobbing came to
+him from the open window--fainter now, as though an effort had been made
+to stifle it.
+
+Once more he spoke: "I say, what's the trouble in there? Can I help?"
+
+Almost instantly a face appeared against the pane--a tear-stained face,
+terrified and shrinking.
+
+"Oh!" said a voice unsteady with weeping. "Oh! sir, if there is a heart
+in your breast you will help me to escape--to find my father."
+
+Her tone, despite agitation, was that of extreme youth. She was not of
+the class that frequent gambling halls. Both her dress and her manner
+proclaimed that. Adrian was perplexed. "Are you--" he hesitated, fearing
+to impart offense, "are you the girl who came with McTurpin?"
+
+"Yes, yes," she spoke hurriedly. "He told me my father was ill. He
+promised to take me to him. Instead, he locked me in this room. He
+threatened--oh! he is a monster! Will you help me? Do you know my
+father, sir?"
+
+"What is his name?" asked Stanley.
+
+"Burthen, sir, James Burthen," she replied, and fell once more to
+sobbing helplessly. "Oh, if I were only out of here."
+
+Stanley pressed his weight against the door. He was thinking rapidly. So
+this was the daughter of Benito's partner--the murdered miner of the
+Eldorado tragedy. He recalled the letter from Colton; the hint of
+McTurpin's infatuation and its menace. Things became clear to him
+suddenly. The door gave as he pressed his knee against it. Presently the
+flimsy lock capitulated and he walked into the room. The girl shrank
+back against the farther wall at his approach.
+
+"Oh, come," he said, a trifle testily, "I'm not going to hurt you. Get
+on your hat. I'll see you're taken care of. I'll place you in charge
+of my wife."
+
+"And my father," she begged. "You'll take me to him?"
+
+"Yes, yes, your father," he agreed in haste. "But first you'll come home
+with me."
+
+She snatched up a hat and shawl from the commode, and, with hurried
+movements rearranged her hair; then she followed him submissively into
+the gathering dusk, shrinking close as if to efface herself whenever
+they passed anyone. The streets were full of men now, mostly bound from
+hotels, lodging houses and tents to the Eldorado and kindred resorts.
+Many of them ogled her curiously, for a female figure was a rarity in
+nocturnal San Francisco.
+
+They passed dimly lighted tents in which dark figures bulked grotesquely
+against canvas walls. In one a man seemed to be dancing with a large
+animal which Stanley told her was a grizzly bear.
+
+"They have many queer pets," he said. "One of my neighbors keeps a pet
+coon, and in another tent there are a bay horse, two dogs, two sheep
+and a pair of goats. They sleep with their master like a happy family."
+
+"It is all so strange," said the girl, faintly. "In the East my father
+was a lawyer; we had a good house and a carriage; everything was so
+different from--this. But after my mother died, he grew restless. He
+sold everything and came to this rough, wild country. None of his old
+friends would know him now, with his beard, his boots and the horrible
+red flannel shirt."
+
+Adrian made no reply. He was thinking of the tragic news which must ere
+long be told to Burthen's daughter. For a time they strode along in
+silence--until Stanley paused before an open door. Against the inner
+light which streamed through it into the darkness of the street a
+woman's figure was outlined.
+
+"Well, here we are, at last," said Adrian. "And my wife's in the doorway
+waiting to scold me for being so late."
+
+Inez ran to meet him. "I have been anxious," she declared. She noted her
+husband's companion, and stepped back, startled. "Adrian, who is this?"
+
+"A daughter of the mur----" Adrian began. He broke the telltale word in
+two: "Of James Burthen--Benito's partner."
+
+"Ah, then you know my brother," Inez hailed her eagerly. She took the
+girl's hands in her own and pressed them. "You must tell us all about
+him--quickly. We have waited long for news."
+
+"You are--Mr. Windham's sister?" cried the girl almost incredulously.
+Then, with a swift abandonment to emotion she threw her arms about the
+elder woman's neck and sobbed.
+
+Stanley followed them into the house. He saw Inez supporting her
+companion, soothing her in those mysterious ways which only women know.
+His mind was stirred with grave perplexities.
+
+A peremptory knock aroused him from his cogitations. Could it be the
+gambler so soon? He thought there were voices. Several men, no doubt.
+
+Inez called out in a whisper, "Who is there?"
+
+"Go back," her husband ordered. "It's all right, dear. They're friends
+of mine."
+
+Inez came out quickly and stood beside him, looking up into his face.
+"You're sure? There's no--no danger?"
+
+Again the rat-tat-tat upon the panel, more peremptory than before.
+Stanley forced a laugh. "Danger! Why, of course not. Just a business
+talk. But go back and look after the girl. I don't want her coming out
+here while I've visitors." He patted her hand. His arm about her
+shoulder he ushered her across the threshold of the inner chamber and
+closed the door. Then he extinguished the lamp. Hand on pistol he felt
+his way toward the outer portal and, with a sudden movement flung it
+wide. Three men stood on the threshold. They seemed puzzled by the
+darkness. Out of it the host's voice spoke: "Who are you? What do
+you wish?"
+
+William Henry Brown was first to answer him. "We want you, Adrian, at
+the hotel. Can you come now--quickly?"
+
+"What for?" he asked suspiciously. "Who sent you here?"
+
+"Nobody," came the cheery voice of Dr. Jones. "There's a friend of yours
+at Brown's who needs you."
+
+"You mean--McTurpin?
+
+"Damn McTurpin!" spoke the third voice. It was Nathan Spear's. "Light
+your lamp. Nobody's going to shoot you, Stanley.... It's young Benito
+from the mines and down with fever. He's calling for you ... and for a
+girl named Alice.... If you can pacify him--that will help a lot. He's
+pretty low."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+OUTFACING THE ENEMY
+
+"Wait," said Adrian, hurriedly. He relighted the lamp and, going to the
+inner door, called softly. There was an agitated rustle; then the door
+swung back and Stanley saw the figure of his wife, beside whom stood the
+light-haired girl.
+
+"What is it, Adrian?"
+
+"There's someone sick at Brown's Hotel," said Adrian, "a friend of mine.
+I'm going over there." He made a sign imposing silence on the men.
+
+Inez came close. "You're certain it's no trick," she whispered, "it's
+not McTurpin's scheme to--"
+
+"No, no," he assured her hastily. "I'm sure of that." He seized his hat
+and coat. "Put down the window shades and answer no one's knock till I
+return." He kissed her and without more ado joined the men outside. He
+heard the door shut and lock click into place.
+
+For a time the quartette strode along in silence; then Brown spoke, as
+if the thought had been long on his lips, "Wasn't that--the girl
+McTurpin brought to town?"
+
+"Yes," said Adrian tersely, "it was she."
+
+Brown made no immediate response; he seemed to be digesting Adrian's
+remark. Finally he burst out, "If it's any of my business, what's she
+doing--there?"
+
+"She asked for help," retorted Stanley. He related the incident of the
+veranda. Spear laughed meaningly. "That's the second one you've taken
+from McTurpin; he'll be loving you a heap, old man."
+
+"He doesn't know it yet," Brown said. "But keep out of his way
+tomorrow."
+
+Stanley's teeth met with a little click. "When I've seen Benito, Alec
+McTurpin and I will have a showdown. But tell me of the boy. What
+brought him here?"
+
+"The missing girl, of course," said Dr. James. "He's daft about her.
+Alice Burthen ... that's her name, isn't it?"
+
+Stanley was about to make some rejoinder when they passed two men, one
+of whom looked at them curiously. He was McTurpin's companion of the
+bar-room episode. "Who's that?" asked Spear as Brown saluted the pair.
+
+"That's Reverend Wheeler, the new Baptist parson."
+
+"Yes, yes, I know. But the other one?"
+
+"Ned Gasket ... he's a friend of Dandy Carter's at the Eldorado."
+
+"And a Sydney Duck, I guess," the doctor added.
+
+"Do your own guessing, friend," said Brown, impatiently.
+
+Spear sighed. "We'll have to do more than guess about that stripe of
+citizen if we want law and order. It will take a rope I fear," he
+finished grimly.
+
+Brown led them round the back to a room not far from the one which had
+held Alice Burthen.
+
+"It's quieter here," he explained. "They get noisy sometimes along about
+midnight." He opened the door and struck a sulphur match by whose weird
+flicker they made out a bed with a tossing figure upon it. Adrian
+crossed over and took the nervous clutching hands within his own
+firm clasp.
+
+"Benito," he said. "Don't you know me? It's Adrian!"
+
+Brown with a lighted lamp came nearer, so that Stanley saw the
+sufferer's eyes. They were incognizant of realities. The murmuring voice
+droned on, fretfully, "I've looked for her everywhere. She's
+gone! gone!"
+
+Suddenly he cried out: "Alice! Alice!" half rising. But he tumbled back
+upon the pillow with a swift collapse of weakness and his words waned
+into mumbled incoherence.
+
+"Benito," Adrian addressed him earnestly, "Alice is with me. With me and
+Inez. She's safe. I'll bring her to you in the morning. Do you
+understand?"
+
+"With you--with Inez?" the sick man repeated. "Then tell her to come. I
+want her. Tell Alice to come--"
+
+"Tomorrow," Dr. Jones said, soothingly, "when you've had a chance to
+rest."
+
+"No, tonight," the fevered eyes stared up at them imploringly. Jones
+drew Adrian aside. "Pretend you'll do it or hell wear himself out. Then
+go. I'll give him something that will make him sleep." He emptied a
+powder in a tumbler of water and held it out to the sick man. "Drink
+this," he ordered, "it'll give you strength to see Miss Burthen."
+
+Benito's lips obediently quaffed the drink. His head lay quieter upon
+the pillow. Slowly, as they watched, the eyelids closed.
+
+"And now," said Adrian when he had assured himself that Benito slept,
+"I'm going for McTurpin."
+
+"Don't be a confounded fool," Dr. Jones said quickly.
+
+But Stanley paid no heed. He went directly into the saloon and looked
+about him. At a table, back toward him, sat a stocky figure, playing
+cards and reaching for the rum container at his side. Adrian stood a
+moment, musing; then his right hand slid down to his hip; a forward
+stride and the left hand fell on the player's shoulder.
+
+"We meet once more, McTurpin."
+
+The gambler rose so suddenly that the stool on which he sat rolled over.
+His face was red with wine and rage. His fingers moved toward an
+inner pocket.
+
+"Don't," said Adrian meaningly. The hand fell back.
+
+"What do you want?" the gambler growled.
+
+"A quiet talk, my friend. Come with me."
+
+"And, suppose I refuse?" the other sneered.
+
+"Oh, if you're afraid--" began Adrian.
+
+McTurpin threw his cards upon the table. Between him and a man across
+the board flashed a swift, unspoken message. "I'm at your service,
+Mr.--ah--Stanley."
+
+He led the way out, and Adrian following, gave a quick glance backward,
+noting that the man across the table had arisen. What he did not see was
+that Spear hovered in the offing, following them with watchful eyes.
+
+Toward the north they strolled, past a huddle of tents, for the most
+part unlighted. From some came snores and through many a windblown flap,
+the searching moonlight revealed sleeping figures. On a waste of
+sand-dunes McTurpin paused.
+
+"Now tell me what ye want," he snarled, "and be damned quick about it.
+I've small time to waste with meddlers."
+
+"On this occasion," Stanley said, "you'll take the time to note the
+following facts, Mr. McTurpin, Mr. Pillsworth--or whatever your true
+name may be--I've had a talk with Dandy Carter. He recognized you and
+Gasket when Burthen was killed, in spite of your beard. So did Rosa, of
+course, though she skipped the next morning. The Burthen girl is at my
+house." He paused an instant, thinking that he heard a movement in a
+bush nearby. "Well, that's all," he finished, "except this: If I find
+you here tomorrow, Alec McTurpin, murderer, card-sharp and abductor,
+I'll shoot you down like a dog."
+
+And then, with a splendid piece of bravery, he turned his back on the
+gambler, walking away with never a backward glance. He did not go
+directly home, but walked for an indeterminate interval till his spirit
+was more calm.
+
+The house was dark. Inez had obeyed him by leaving no trace of light.
+Doubtless by now they had retired. Suddenly he started, peered more
+closely at the door he was about to enter.
+
+It was slightly ajar. On the threshold, as he threw it open, Adrian
+found a lace-edged handkerchief. His wife's.
+
+Filled with quick foreboding, he called her name. His voice sounded
+hollow, strange, as if an empty house. Tremblingly he struck a light and
+searched the inner room. The bed had not been slept in. There was no one
+to be seen.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+SHOTS IN THE DARK
+
+Frantically Adrian ran out into the darkness, crying his wife's name.
+His thought went, with swift apprehension, over the events of recent
+hours. The villainous face of Ned Gasket passed before his memory
+mockingly; the meaning look McTurpin gave his henchman at the gaming
+table. Finally, with double force, that movement in the bushes as he
+told the gambler of his former captive's whereabouts. By what absurd
+imprudence had he laid himself thus open to the scoundrel's swift
+attack? What farther whimsy of an unkind Fate had prompted his
+long walk?
+
+Sudden fury flamed in Stanley's heart; it steadied him. The twitching
+fingers on the pistol in his pocket relaxed into a calm and settled
+tension. With long strides he made his way toward Brown's hotel.
+
+There was death in his eyes; men who caught their gleam beneath a
+lamplight, hastily avoided him. That Inez--at this time--should have
+been taken from her home, abducted, frightened or harassed, was the sin
+unpardonable. For it he meant to exact a capital punishment. The law,
+just then, meant to him nothing; only the primitive instinct of an
+outraged man controlled his mind.
+
+At the bar he paused. "Where's McTurpin, where's Gasket?" he demanded,
+harshly.
+
+The bartender observed him with suspicion and uneasiness. "Don't know.
+Haven't seen 'em since they started out with you," he answered.
+
+Stanley left the room without another word.
+
+He struck across the Plaza, entering the Eldorado gambling house. There
+he ordered a drink, gulped it, made, more quietly, a survey of the room.
+He scanned the players carefully. Spear sat at one of the tables, toying
+with a pile of chips and stroking his chin reflectively as he surveyed
+three cards.
+
+"Give me two. Hello, there, Adrian. Good Lord! what's up?"
+
+"Have you seen McTurpin or his friend, Ned Gasket?" He tried to speak
+quietly.
+
+A miner at another table leaned forward. "Try the stalls, pard," he
+whispered, while his left eyelid descended meaningly.
+
+"Wait," cried Spear and laid his cards down hastily. But Adrian was
+already on his way. At the rear were half a dozen small compartments
+where visitors might drink in semi-privacy with women who frequented
+the place.
+
+Adrian made the round of them, flinging aside each curtain as he went.
+Some greeted him with curses for intruding; some with invitations. But
+he did not find the men he sought, until the last curtain was thrown
+back. There sat Gasket and McTurpin opposite Ensenada Rose. She looked
+up impudently as Adrian entered. Into the gambler's visage sprang a
+quick surprise and fear. Instantly he blew out the lamp.
+
+A pistol spoke savagely almost in Adrian's face. He staggered, clasping
+one hand to his head. Something warm ran down his cheek and the side of
+his neck. He felt giddy, stunned. But a dominant impulse jerked his own
+revolver into position and he shot twice--as rapidly as he could operate
+the weapon. The narrow space was chokingly filled with acrid vapor.
+Somewhere a woman screamed; then came a rush of feet.
+
+It seemed to Adrian he had stood for hours in a kind of stupor when a
+light was brought. Gasket lay, his head bowed over on the table and an
+arm flung forward. He was dead. On the floor was a lace mantilla.
+
+Spear reached Adrian's side ahead of the others. "I heard him shoot
+first," he said, so that all might hear him. "Are you hit?"
+
+Adrian's hand went once more to his cheek. "Just a furrow," he said and
+smiled a trifle dazedly. "He fired straight into my face."
+
+"By Harry! He must have. Your cheek's powder-marked," cried Brannan,
+running up and holding the lamp for a better view. "See that, gentlemen?
+They tried to murder Mr. Stanley. This is self-defense. Who fired
+at you?"
+
+"This fellow!" Adrian indicated the sprawled figure. "Must have been. I
+shot at the flash from his gun; then I aimed at McTurpin. I missed him,
+probably."
+
+"Not so sure of that," said Brown, who had come running from his
+hostelry across the square. "Look, here's blood on the floor. A
+trail--let's follow it. Either McTurpin or the woman was hit."
+
+"I tried to avoid her," Adrian said. "I--hope I didn't--"
+
+"Never mind. You were attacked. They're all of a parcel," cried a man
+who wore the badge of a constable. "We've had our eyes on the three of
+them a long time. This fellow," he indicated Gasket, "was one of the
+crowd suspected of the Warren murders. He's the one who killed old
+Burthen. Dandy Carter let it out tonight; he's half delirious. We'd have
+strung him up most probably, if you hadn't--"
+
+"Come," urged Brannan, "let us follow this trail to the wounded. Perhaps
+he or she needs assistance." He held the lamp low, tracing the dark
+spots across an intervening space to the rear entrance; thence to a
+hitching rack where several horses still were tethered. "They mounted
+here," the constable decided. "One horse probably. No telling which it
+was that got the bullet."
+
+Adrian was conscious, suddenly, that his hand still held the pistol. He
+flung it from him with a gesture of repulsion.
+
+"My wife!" he said faintly, "Inez!"
+
+"What d'ye mean?" asked Spear.
+
+"Talk up, man. What's wrong?"
+
+"She's gone--abducted," Stanley answered. "Who'll lend me a horse. I
+must find McTurpin. He knows--"
+
+Unexpectedly Spear complicated matters. "You're mistaken, Stanley. I
+followed when you and he took your walk together. I suspected
+treachery--when Gasket sneaked along behind. I had McTurpin covered when
+you turned your back on him. He came here after that. Both of them have
+been here all the evening."
+
+Stanley put his hand to his head with a bewildered gesture.
+
+"Good God! Then where--? What has become of them?"
+
+"Maybe they got wind of Benito's presence. Maybe they're with him. Let's
+see."
+
+They hurried back to the City Hotel.
+
+"The room's dark," Spear lighted a taper and they softly opened the
+door. Benito slept; beside him drowsed a red-shirted miner slumped upon
+a chair. Adrian shook him, whispering, "Where's Doctor Jones?"
+
+"Don't know," muttered the watcher, sleepily. "This yere is his busy
+night I reckon. Asked me to look after this galoot. Feed him four
+fingers of that pizen if he woke."
+
+His head drooped forward and a buzzing sound came from his open mouth.
+Once more Adrian shook him.
+
+"Didn't he say anything about his destination?"
+
+"His which, pard?"
+
+"Where he was bound," the young man said half angrily.
+
+This time the other sat up straighter. For the first time he really
+awoke and took intelligent cognizance of the situation.
+
+"Now I come to think on it, he's bound for the hill over yonder. Woman
+named Briones come for him at a double quick. Good lookin' Spanish
+wench. She took him by the arm commandin' like. 'You come along,' she
+says and picks up his medicine chest. 'Don't stop for yer hat.' And he
+didn't." He winked heavily, chuckling at the reminiscence.
+
+"Then it isn't Juana Briones that's ill. Perhaps it's her husband."
+
+"Has she got a husband?" asked the miner, disappointedly. "No, I reckon
+'twant him. 'Twas a woman name o' Stanley. I remember now--Goin' to
+have a bebby."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+THE NEW ARRIVAL
+
+"Take my horse," said Brannan, hurriedly. "I'll stay here with Benito."
+He bundled the excited Stanley and Nathan Spear out of the room, where
+Benito still slept under the spell of the doctor's opiate. "You, too,"
+he told the miner, "you've had too much red liquor to play the nurse."
+He closed the door after them.
+
+The young contractor spoke first. "By the eternal, I never thought of
+that! I'm glad she had a woman with her."
+
+He spurred his horse toward Telegraph, Hill, as it had begun to be
+known, since signals were flashed from its crest, announcing the arrival
+of vessels. Down its farther slope was the little rancho of Dona
+Briones, where Inez in her extremity had sought the good friend of her
+childhood.
+
+Adrian's thought leaped forward into coming years. Inez and he together,
+always together as the years passed. And between them a son--intuitively
+he felt that it would be a son--a successor, taking up their burdens as
+they laid them down; bearing their name, their ideals, purposes along,
+down the pageant of time.
+
+He paid little heed as they passed through a huddle of huts, tents and
+lean-tos on the southern ascent. Though the hour was late, many windows
+were light and sounds of revelry came dimly, as though muffled, from
+curtain-hid interiors. There was something furtive and ill-omened about
+this neighborhood which one sensed rather than perceived. Spear rode
+close and touched Adrian's arm.
+
+"Sydney town," he whispered, meaningly. "The hang-out of our convict
+citizens from Australia, those eastern toughs and plug-uglies of the
+Seventh regiment who came here to feather their nests. Do you know what
+they've done? Formed a society called The Hounds. Appropriate, isn't it?
+Your friend McTurpin's one of them. Thanks to you, they've lost a
+valued member."
+
+"Hounds?" said Adrian. His thought still forged ahead. "Oh, yes, I've
+heard about them. They are going to drive out the foreigners."
+
+"Loot them, more likely," Spear returned, disgustedly; "then us, if we
+don't look out. Mark my word, they'll give us trouble. Alcalde
+Leavenworth's too careless by half."
+
+Stanley, paying scant attention, suddenly leaned forward in his saddle.
+At one of the windows a curtain was drawn back; a woman's face appeared
+for a moment silhouetted against inner light; then as swiftly withdrew.
+
+"Who was that?" asked Adrian, involuntarily reining in his mount.
+"Not--"
+
+"Rosa Terranza," said Spear excitedly.
+
+They listened. From within the tent-house came a sound of hasty
+movements, whispering. The light winked out. A bolt was shot;
+then silence.
+
+"I'll bet, by Jupiter, McTurpin's there," cried Adrian.
+
+"And that he's hurt," Spear added. "What shall we do?"
+
+"Let them be," decided Stanley, clucking to his horse. "My duty's
+ahead." He took the steep pitch of the hillside almost at a gallop and
+soon they were descending again into that little settlement of waterside
+and slope called North Beach. Juana Briones' place had been its pioneer
+habitation. Her hospitable gate stood always invitingly open. Through
+the branches of a cypress lights could be seen. The front door stood
+ajar and about it were whispering women. Adrian's heart leaped. Was
+something amiss? He dismounted impetuously, throwing the reins to an
+Indian who had come out evidently to do them service. Spear followed as
+he rushed through the door. There stood Dona Briones, finger on lip,
+demanding silence. Her face was grave.
+
+"How--how is she? How is Inez?" Adrian stammered.
+
+"The doctor's with her. Everything will be all right, I think. But make
+no noise. Go in that room and sit down."
+
+Adrian threw up his hands. "My God, woman! How can I sit still
+when--when--?"
+
+"Walk up and down, then," said Juana, "but take off your shoes."
+
+Which Adrian finally did. It seemed to him that he had paced the tiny
+chamber a thousand times. He heard movements, voices in the next room;
+now and then his wife's moan and the elder woman's soothing accents.
+Then a silence which seemed century long, a silence fraught with
+unimaginable terror. It was broken by a new sound, high pitched, feeble,
+but distinct; the cry of a child. Helplessly Adrian subsided into a
+chair beside Nathan Spear. "Do you hear that?" he asked, mopping
+his forehead.
+
+"Yes, I heard it," said the other non-committally.
+
+"I can't stand this any longer," Adrian exclaimed. "I'm going in there.
+I--I've got to know--"
+
+He rose, determinedly, shaking off Spear's detaining arm. In the doorway
+stood Dr. Jones. Again came the tiny cry. "It's a boy," said the medico,
+and held out his hand.
+
+But Adrian caught him by the shoulders. "My wife?" he asked. "How is
+she? Is there any--"
+
+"Danger? No, it's over," said the doctor. "Sit down and calm yourself."
+
+Adrian relaxed a trifle. Finally his set face softened; he laughed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was the evening of July 14, 1849. Stanley stood over the cradle of
+his son, looking worshipfully down at the tiny sleeping face. Inez
+Stanley, busied with the varied tasks of motherhood, came and stood for
+a moment beside him. She voiced that platitude of wives and mothers in
+their pride: "He looks just like you, Adrian."
+
+Stanley put his hands upon her shoulders. "Got your mouth, your big
+eyes," he said, and kissed her.
+
+They were wont to quarrel tenderly over this. But tonight Inez looked
+seriously up at her husband. Suddenly she hid her face upon
+his shoulder.
+
+"If only--if only--" she whispered, "he wouldn't grow up. And we
+wouldn't grow old."
+
+Stanley's fingers on her hair stroked gently. "Life is life, my dear,"
+he said at last. "Let us not question the inexorable too deeply.
+Yesterday is gone, you know. Tomorrow never comes.... And here we are
+together in the best town in the world. With love, good prospects ...
+our little Francisco--"
+
+"He will live to see a great city," said Inez, comforted. "He will help
+to make it." Her eyes were prophetic. The child stirred and hastily they
+withdrew, lowering the light so that his slumber might be undisturbed. A
+light tap sounded at the door and Adrian answered.
+
+Spear and Brannan with Benito stood upon the threshold. The latter
+entered, kissed his sister and was shown the sleeping child. "How is
+Alice?" Inez asked.
+
+"Well. And the best little wife in the world," Benito answered. His eyes
+glowed happily. "The tiny Francisco is growing like a weed. Only ten
+months old--"
+
+"Nine months, two weeks and three days," said his mother, glibly. "Won't
+you all come in and see the baby?" she invited.
+
+"No," Spear answered. "We must steal your husband for a' little while.
+There's business at the City Hall...."
+
+"Adrian's become a prominent citizen, you know," he added at her look of
+pouting protest.
+
+She brought her husband's hat. "Don't be long," she urged, and smiled a
+good-bye from the threshold. When he heard the door shut, Adrian turned
+on Brannan. "What's up?"
+
+"Plenty," said the other meaningly. "The Hounds have broken out. They
+looted Little Chili about dark tonight and one of them was shot. They
+threaten to burn the foreign quarter. They're arming. There's
+trouble afoot."
+
+"And what do you want of me?" Stanley questioned.
+
+"Damn it! Wake up, man!" cried Spear. "A citizens' committee. We're
+going to enforce the law--if it takes a rope."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+THE CHAOS OF '49
+
+Inez and Alice were returning from church on Sunday, July 15 when they
+encountered a strange, unsabbatical procession; a company of grim and
+tight-lipped citizens marching, rifles over shoulder toward the Bay. At
+their head was William Spofford. Midway of the parade were a dozen
+rough-appearing fellows, manacled and guarded. Among these Inez
+recognized Sam Roberts, gaunt and bearded leader of the hoodlum band
+known as The Hounds or Regulars. From Little Chili, further to the north
+and west, rose clouds of smoke; now and then a leaping tongue of flame.
+
+Presently Benito, musket at shoulder, came marching by and Inez plucked
+at his arm.
+
+"Can't stop now," he told her hurriedly. "We're taking these rogues to
+the sloop Warren. They're to be tried for arson and assault in the
+foreign quarter."
+
+"By the Eternal!" shouted a bystander enthusiastically. "We've got Law
+in San Francisco at last.... Hurrah for Bill Spofford and the Citizens'
+Committee."
+
+"There's Adrian," cried Inez as the rearguard of the pageant passed.
+"Isn't it fine? Alice, aren't you proud?"
+
+But Alice was a practical little body. "They'll be hungry when they come
+home," she averred. "Let us hurry back and get their dinner ready."
+
+[Illustration: Passersby who laughed at the inscription witnessed
+simultaneously the rescue of an almost-submerged donkey by means of an
+improvised derrick.]
+
+The affair of The Hounds was already past history when the gold-seekers,
+hunted from the heights by early snows, returned to San Francisco in
+great numbers. Sara Roberts and his evil band had been deported.
+Better government obtained but there were many other civic problems
+still unsolved. San Francisco, now a hectic, riotous metropolis of
+25,000 inhabitants, was like a muddy Venice, for heavy rains had made
+its unpaved streets canals of oozy mud. At Clay and Kearny streets, in
+the heart of the business district, some wag had placed a
+placard reading:
+
+     THIS STREET IS IMPASSABLE
+       NOT EVEN JACKASSABLE
+
+In which there was both truth and poetry. Passersby who laughed at the
+inscription witnessed simultaneously the rescue of an almost-submerged
+donkey by means of an improvised derrick.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Benito was showing his friend David Broderick, a recent arrival from New
+York, some of San Francisco's sights. "Everything is being used to
+bridge the crossings," said the former laughingly ... "stuff that came
+from those deserted ships out in the bay. Their masts are like a
+forest--hundreds of them."
+
+"You mean their crew deserted during the gold rush?" Broderick inquired.
+
+"Yes, even the skippers and officers in many cases.... See, here is a
+cargo of sieves with which some poor misguided trader overwhelmed the
+market. They make a fair crossing, planted in the mud. And there are
+stepping stones of tobacco boxes--never been opened, mind you--barrels
+of tainted pork and beef. On Montgomery street is a row of cook stoves
+which make a fine sidewalk, though, sometimes the mud covers them."
+
+"And what are those two brigs doing stranded in the mud?" asked
+Broderick.
+
+"Oh, those are the Euphemia and Apollo. They use the first one for a
+jail. That's Geary's scheme. He's full of business. And the second's a
+tavern.... Let's go up to the new post-office. Alice is always eager
+for a letter from her folks in Massachusetts."
+
+They made their way to the new wooden structure at Clay and Pike streets
+where several clerks were busily sorting the semi-weekly mail which had
+just arrived. Hundreds of people stood in long queues before each of the
+windows. "Get in line stranger," said a red-shirted man laughingly.
+"Only seventy-five ahead of us. I counted 'em.... Some have been in line
+since last night I'm told. They're up near the front and holding places
+for others ... getting $20 cash for their time."
+
+Broderick and Benito decided not to wait. They made another journey
+round the town, watching Chinese builders erecting long rows of
+habitations that had come in sections from Cathay. Everywhere was hasty,
+feverish construction--flimsy houses going up like mushrooms over night
+to meet the needs of San Francisco's swiftly augmenting populace.
+
+"It's like a house of cards," said Broderick, who had been a fireman in
+New York. "Lord help us if it ever starts to burn. Even our drinking
+water comes from Sausalito across the Bay."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+RETRIEVING A BIRTHRIGHT
+
+Benito Windham stole from his dwelling, closing the door softly after
+him so Alice, his wife, might not wake. A faint rose dawn colored the
+Contra Costa ridge. From a few of the huts and larger buildings which
+sprinkled San Francisco's hills and hollows so haphazardly, curls of
+blue white wood smoke rose into the windless air. Here and there some
+belated roisterer staggered toward his habitation. But otherwise all was
+still, quicscent. San Francisco slept.
+
+It was the morning of December 24, 1849--the first Christmas eve
+following the gold rush. Windham, who had lain awake since midnight,
+pondered upon this and other things. Events had succeeded each other
+with such riotous activity of late that life seemed more like a dream
+than a reality. His turbulent months at the mines, his high preliminary
+hopes of fortune, their gradual waning to a slow despair; the advent of
+James Burthen and his daughter; then love, his partner's murder and the
+girl's abduction; his pursuit and illness. Alice's rescue and their
+marriage; his return to find the claim covered with snow; finally a
+clerical post in San Francisco.
+
+A sudden distaste for the feverish, riotous town assailed him--a longing
+for the peace and beauty of those broad paternal acres he had lost upon
+the gaming table wrenched his heart.
+
+He pictured Alice in the old rose patio, where his American father had
+wooed his Spanish mother.
+
+Involuntarily his steps turned eastward. At Sacramento and Leidesdorff
+streets he left solid ground to tread a four-foot board above the water,
+to the theoretical line of Sansome street; thence south upon a similar
+foothold to the solid ground of Bush street, where an immense sand-*hill
+with a hollow in its middle, like a crater, struck across the path. Some
+called this depression Thieves Hollow, for in it deserting sailors,
+ticket-of-leave men from Botany Bay prison colony and all manner of
+human riff-raff consorted for nefarious intrigue.
+
+Benito, mounting the slope, looked down at a welter of tents, shacks,
+deck houses and galleys of wrecked ships. He had expected their
+occupants to be asleep, for they were nighthawks who reversed man's
+usual order in the prosecution of nocturnal and ill-favored trades. He
+was astonished to note a general activity. At the portholes of dwellings
+retrieved from the wreck of the sea, unkempt bearded faces stared; smoke
+leaped from a dozen rickety, unstable chimneys, and in the open several
+groups of men and women plied frying pans and coffee pots over
+driftwood fires.
+
+Benito observed them with a covert interest. A black-browed man with a
+shaggy beard and something leonine about him, seemed the master of the
+chief of this godless band. He moved among them, giving orders, and with
+two companions finally ascended to the top. Benito, concealing himself
+behind a scrub oak, watched them, animatedly conversing, as they
+descended and picked their way inland toward the Square. So swift their
+movements and so low their tones he could not make out the tenor of
+their discourse. He caught the words, "like tow," but that was all.
+Musingly, he went on.
+
+Up the broad and muddy path to Market street, thence west again to
+Third, he made his way. Now south to Mission and once more west, a
+favored route for caballeros. Benito had never traveled it before afoot.
+But his horse had succumbed to the rigors of that frantic ride in
+pursuit of Alice and McTurpin several months ago. Mounts were a
+luxury now.
+
+He skirted the edge of a lagoon that stretched from Sixth to Eighth
+streets and on the ascent beyond observed a tiny box-like habitation,
+brightly painted, ringed with flowers and crowned with an imposing
+flagpole from which floated the Star-Spangled Banner. It was a note of
+gay melody struck athwart the discordant monotony of soiled tent houses,
+tumble-down huts and oblong, flat-roofed buildings stretching their
+disorderly array along the road. Coming closer he saw the name,
+"Pipesville," printed on the door, and knew that this must be the
+"summer home," as it was called, of San Francisco's beloved minstrel,
+Stephen Massett, otherwise "Jeems Pipes of Pipesville," singer, player,
+essayist and creator of those wondrous one-man concerts dear to all the
+countryside.
+
+"Jeems" himself appeared in the doorway to wave a greeting and Benito
+went on oddly cheered by the encounter. In front of the Mansion House,
+adjoining Mission Dolores, stood Bob Ridley, talking with his partner.
+
+"You look warm, son," he remarked paternally to Windham, "let me mix you
+up a milk punch and you'll feel more like yourself. Where's your boss
+and whither are ye bound?"
+
+"Died," Benito answered. "Going to my--to the ranch."
+
+"Thought so," Ridley said. "I hear there's no one on it. Why not steal a
+march on that tin-horn gambler and scallawag. Rally up some friends and
+take possession. That's nine points of the law, my boy, and a half-dozen
+straight-shooting Americans is nine hundred more, now that Geary's
+alcalde and that weak-kneed psalm-singing Leavenworth's resigned
+under fire."
+
+"You're sure--there's no one at the place?" Benito questioned.
+
+"Pretty sure. But what's it matter? Everybody knows it's yours by
+rights. Wait," he cried, excitedly. "I'll get horses. Stuart and I will
+go along. We'll pick up six or seven bully boys along the way. Is it
+a go?"
+
+"A go!" exclaimed Benito, his eyes ashine. "You--you're too good, Bob
+Ridley." He pressed the other's hand. "My wife," he mused, "among the
+roses in the patio! The old home, Dear God! Let it come true!"
+
+An hour later ten men galloped through the gate of the Windham rancho.
+No one offered them resistance. It had the look of a place long
+abandoned. Dead leaves and litter everywhere. All of the animals had
+been driven off--sold, no doubt. The hacienda had been ransacked of its
+valuables. It was almost bare of furniture. The rose court, neglected,
+unkempt, brought back a surge of memories. A chimney had fallen; broken
+adobe bricks lay scattered on the grass.
+
+But to Benito it spelled home. For him and for Alice. This should be his
+Christmas gift. Old Antonio, his former major-domo, lingered still in
+San Francisco. He would send him out this very day to set the place in
+order. Tomorrow he and Alice would ride--his brow clouded. He should
+have to borrow two horses. No matter. Tomorrow they would ride--
+
+A startled exclamation from Bob Ridley roused him from his rhapsody.
+
+"Benito, come here! Look! What the devil is that?"
+
+From their eminence the town of San Francisco was plainly visible; tall,
+thin shafts of smoke rising straight and black from many chimneys; the
+blue bay shimmering in the morning sunshine; the curious fretwork
+shadows of that great flotilla of deserted ships. But there was
+something more; something startlingly unnatural; a great pillar of black
+vapor--beneath it a livid red thing that leaped and grew.
+
+"Good God! The town's afire!" cried Benito.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!
+
+Benito's first thought was of Alice. He had left her sleeping. Perhaps
+she had not yet awakened, for the morning was young. Adrian had gone to
+San Jose the previous afternoon. His wife, his sister and her child
+would be alone.
+
+Benito sprang upon his horse; the others followed. In less than half an
+hour they crossed Market street and were galloping down Kearny toward
+the Square. At California street they were halted by a crowd, pushing,
+shouting, elbowing this way and that without apparent or concerted
+purpose. Above the human babel sounded a vicious crackle of burning wood
+like volleys of shots from small rifles. Red and yellow flames shot high
+and straight into the air. Now and then a gust of wind sent the licking
+fire demon earthward, and before its hot breath people fled in panic.
+
+Benito flung his reins to a bystander. He was scarcely conscious of his
+movements; only that he was fighting for breath in a surging,
+suffocating press of equally excited human beings. From this he finally
+emerged, hatless, disheveled, into a small cleared space filled with
+flying sparks and stifling heat. Across it men rushed feverishly
+carrying pails of water. Dennison's Exchange on Kearny street, midway of
+the block facing Portsmouth Square, was a roaring furnace. Flame sprang
+like red, darting tongues from its windows and thrust impertinent
+fingers here and there through the sloping roof.
+
+Somewhere--no one seemed to know precisely--a woman screamed, "My baby!
+Save my baby!" The sound died to a moan, was stilled. Benito, passing a
+bucket along the line, stared, white faced, at his neighbor. "What was
+that?" he asked.
+
+"Quien sabe?" said the other, "hurry along with that pail. The roof's
+falling."
+
+It was true. The shingle-covered space above the burning building
+stirred gently, undulating like some wind-ruffled pond. The mansard
+windows seemed to bow to the watchers, then slowly sink forward. With a
+roar, the whole roof sprang into fire, buckled, collapsed; the veranda
+toppled. Smoke poured from the eight mansard windows of the Parker
+House, next door. South of the Parker House were single-storied
+buildings, one of wood, another of adobe; the first was a restaurant;
+over its roof several foreign-looking men spread rugs and upon them
+poured a red liquid.
+
+"It's wine," Bob Ridley said. "But they'll never save it. Booker's store
+is going, too. Looks like a clean sweep of the block."
+
+Broderick's commanding figure could be seen rushing hither and thither.
+"No use," Benito heard him say to one of his lieutenants. "Water won't
+stop it. Not enough.... Is there any powder hereabouts?"
+
+"Powder!" cried the other with a blanching face. "By the Eternal, yes! A
+store of it is just around the corner. Mustn't let the fire reach--"
+
+Broderick cut him short. "Go and get it. You and two others. Blow up or
+pull down that building," he indicated a sprawling ramshackle structure
+on the corner.
+
+"But it's mine," one of the fire-fighters wailed. "Cost me ten thousand
+dollars--"
+
+Fiercely Broderick turned upon him. "It'll cost the town ten millions if
+you don't hurry," he bellowed. "You can't save it, anyhow. Do you want
+the whole place to burn?"
+
+[Illustration: Broderick's commanding figure was seen rushing hither and
+thither.... "You and two others. Blow up or pull down that building," he
+indicated a sprawling, ramshackle structure.]
+
+"All right, all right, Cap. Don't shoot," the other countered with a
+sudden laugh. "Come on, boys, follow me." Benito watched him and the
+others presently returning with three kegs. They dived into the building
+indicated. Presently, with the noise of a hundred cannon, the corner
+building burst apart. Sticks and bits of plaster flew everywhere. The
+crowd receded, panic-stricken.
+
+"Good work!" cried the fire marshal.
+
+It seemed, indeed, as though the flames were daunted. The two small
+structures were blazing now. The Parker House, reeling drunkenly,
+collapsed.
+
+Unexpectedly a gust of wind sent fire from the ruins of Dennison's
+Exchange northward. It reached across the open space and flung a rain of
+sparks down Washington street toward Montgomery. Instantly there came an
+answering crackle, and exasperated fire-fighters rushed to meet the
+latest sortie of their enemy. Once more three men, keg laden, made their
+way through smoke and showering brands. Again the deafening report
+reverberated and the crowd fell back, alarmed.
+
+Someone grasped Benito's arm and shook it violently. He turned and
+looked into the feverishly questioning eyes of Adrian Stanley.
+
+"I've just returned," the other panted. "Tell me, is all well--with
+Inez? The women?"
+
+"Don't know," said Benito, half bewildered. The woman's wail for a lost
+child leaped terrifyingly into his recollection. His hand went up as if
+to ward off something. "Don't know," he repeated. "Wasn't home
+when--fire started."
+
+It came to him weirdly that he was talking like a drunken man; that
+Adrian eyed him with a sharp disfavor. "Where the devil were you, then?"
+
+"At the ranch," he answered. Suddenly he laughed. It all seemed very
+funny. He had meant to give his wife a Christmas present; later he had
+ridden madly to her rescue, yet here he was passing buckets in a fire
+brigade. And Adrian, regarding him with suspicion, accusing him silently
+with his eyes.
+
+"You take the pail," he cried. "You fight the fire." And while Stanley
+looked puzzledly after him, Benito charged through a circle of
+spectators up the hill. He did not know that his face was almost black;
+that his eyebrows and the little foreign moustache of which they had
+made fun at the mines was charred and grizzled. He knew only that Alice
+might be in danger. That the fire might have spread west as well as east
+and north.
+
+As he sped up Washington street another loud explosion drummed against
+his ears. A shout followed it. Benito neither knew nor cared for its
+significance. Five minutes later he stumbled across his own doorsill,
+calling his wife's name. There was no answer. Frenziedly he shouted
+"Alice! Alice!" till at last a neighbor answered him.
+
+"She and Mrs. Stanley and the baby went to Preacher Taylor's house. Is
+the fire out?"
+
+"No," returned Benito. Once more he plunged down hill, seized a bucket
+and began the interminable passing of water. He looked about for Adrian
+but did not see him. He became a machine, dully, persistently,
+desperately performing certain ever-repeated tasks.
+
+Hours seemed to pass. Then, of a sudden, something interrupted the
+accustomed trend. He held out his hands and no bucket met it. With a
+look of stupid surprise he stared at the man behind him. He continued to
+hold out his hand.
+
+"Wake up," cried the other, and gave him a whack across the shoulders.
+"Wake up, Benito, man. The fire's out."
+
+Robert Parker, whose hotel was a litter of smoking timbers, and Tom
+Maguire, owner of what once had been the Eldorado gambling house, were
+discussing their losses.
+
+"Busted?" Parker asked.
+
+"Cleaned!" Maguire answered.
+
+"Goin' to rebuild?"
+
+"Yep. And you?"
+
+"Sartin. Sure. Soon as I can get the lumber and a loan."
+
+"Put her there, pard."
+
+Their hands met with a smack.
+
+"That's the spirit of San Francisco," Ridley remarked. "Well we've
+learned a lesson. Next time we'll be ready for this sort of thing.
+Broderick's planning already for an engine company."
+
+"I reckon," Adrian commented as he joined the group, "a vigilance
+committee is what we need even more."
+
+To this Benito made no answer. Into his mind flashed a memory of the
+trio that had left Thieves' Hollow at daybreak.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+POLITICS AND A WARNING
+
+Benito Windham rose reluctantly and stretched himself. It was very
+comfortable in the living-room of the ranch house, where a fire crackled
+in the huge stone grate built by his grandfather's Indian artisans. Many
+of the valuable tapestries imported from Spain had been removed by
+McTurpin during his tenure, but even bare adobe walls were cheerful in
+the light of blazing logs, and rugs of native weave accorded well with
+the simple mission furniture. In a great chair that almost swallowed her
+sat Alice, gazing dreamily into the embers. Family portraits hung upon
+the wall, and one of these, stiff and haughty in the regimentals of a
+soldado de cuero, seemed to look down upon the domestic picture with a
+certain austere benignity. This was the painting of Francisco Garvez of
+hidalgo lineage, who had stood beside Ortega, the Pathfinder, when that
+honored scout of Portola had found the bay of San Francisco and the
+Golden Gate.
+
+"Carissima, how he would have loved you, that old man!" Benito's tone
+was dreamy.
+
+Alice Windham turned. "You are like him, Benito," she said fondly.
+"There is the same flash in your eye. Come, sit for awhile by the fire.
+It's so cosy when it storms."
+
+Benito kissed her. "I would that I might, but today there is an election
+in the city," he reminded. "I must go to vote. Perhaps I can persuade
+the good Broderick to dine with us this evening; or Brannan--though he
+is so busy nowadays. Often I look about unconsciously for Nathan Spear.
+It seems impossible that he is dead."
+
+"He was 47, but he seemed so young," commented Alice. She rose hastily.
+"You must be very careful, dear," she cautioned, with a swift anxiety,
+"of the cold and wet--and of the hoodlums. They tell me there are many.
+Every week one reads in the _Alta_ that So-and-So was killed at the
+Eldorado or the Verandah. Never more than that. In my home in the East
+they would call it murder. There would be a great commotion; the
+assassin would be hanged."
+
+"Ah, yes; but this is a new country," he said, a little lamely.
+
+"Will there never be law in San Francisco?" Alice asked him,
+passionately. "I have not forgotten--how my father died."
+
+Benito's face went suddenly white. "Nor I," he said, with an odd
+intensity; "there are several things ... that you may trust me ... to
+remember."
+
+"You mean," she queried in alarm, "McTurpin?"
+
+Benito's mood changed. "There, my dear." He put an arm about her
+shoulders soothingly. "Don't worry. I'll be careful; neither storm nor
+bullets shall harm me. I will promise you that."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Early as it was in the day's calendar--for San Francisco had no knack of
+rising with the sun--Benito found the town awake, intensely active when
+he picked his way along the edge of those dangerous bogs that passed for
+business streets. Several polling places had been established. Toward
+each of them, lines of citizens converged in patient single-file
+detachments that stretched usually around the corner and the length of
+another block. Official placards announced that all citizens of the
+United States were entitled to the ballot and beneath one of these, a
+wag had written with white chalk in a large and sprawling hand:
+
+"No Chinese Coolies in Disguise Need Apply."
+
+No one seemed to mind the rain, though a gale blew from the sea, causing
+a multitude of tents to sway and flap in dangerous fashion. Now and
+then a canvas habitation broke its moorings and went racing down the
+hill, pursued by a disheveled and irate occupant, indulging in the most
+violent profanity.
+
+At Kearny and Sacramento streets Benito, approaching the voting station,
+was told to get in line by Charley Elleard, the town constable. Elleard
+rode his famous black pony. This pony was the pet of the town and had
+developed a sagacity nearly human. It was considered wondrous sport to
+give the little animal a "two-bit" piece, which it would gravely hold
+between its teeth and present to the nearest bootblack, placing its
+forefeet daintily upon the footrests for a "shine."
+
+As he neared the polls in the slow succession of advancing voters,
+Benito was beset by a rabble of low-voiced, rough-dressed men, who
+thrust their favorite tickets into his hands and bade him vote as
+indicated, often in a threatening manner. Raucously they tried to cry
+each other down. "Here's for Geary and the good old council," one would
+shout. "Geary and his crowd forever."
+
+"We've had the old one too long," a red-shirted six-footer bellowed.
+"Fresh blood for me. We want sidewalks and clean streets."
+
+This provoked a chorus of "Aye! Aye! That's the ticket, pard," until a
+satirical voice exclaimed, "Clean streets and sidewalks! Gor a'mighty.
+He's dreamin' o' Heaven!"
+
+A roar of laughter echoed round the town at this sally. It was repeated
+everywhere. The campaign slogan was hastily dropped.
+
+At the polling desk Benito found himself behind a burly Kanaka sailor,
+dark as an African.
+
+"I contest his vote," cried one of the judges. "If he's an American, I'm
+a Hottentot."
+
+"Where were you born?" asked the challenging judge of election.
+
+"New York," whispered a voice in the Kanaka's ear, and he repeated the
+word stammeringly. "Where was your father born?" came the second
+question, and again the word was repeated. "What part of New York?"
+
+"New York, New York." The answer was parrot-like. Someone laughed.
+
+"Ask him what part of the Empire State he hails from?" suggested
+another. The question was put in simpler form, but it proved too much
+for the Islander. He stammered, stuttered, waved his hand uncertainly
+toward the ocean. Perceiving that he was the butt of public jest, he
+broke out of the line and made off as fast as his long legs could
+transport him.
+
+The man whose whispered promptings had proved unavailing, fell sullenly
+into the background, after venomous glance at the successful objector.
+Benito caught his eyes under the dripping crown of a wide-brimmed slouch
+hat. They seemed to him vaguely familiar. Almost instinctively his hand
+sought the pocket in which his derringer reposed. Then, with a laugh, he
+dismissed the matter. He had no quarrel with the fellow; that murderous
+look was aimed at Henry Mellus, not at him. So he cast his ballot
+and went out.
+
+Opposite the Square he paused to note the progress of rehabilitation in
+the burned area. It was less than a fortnight since he had stood there
+feverishly passing buckets of water in a fight against the flames, but
+already most of the evidences of conflagration were hidden behind the
+framework of new buildings. The Eldorado announced a grand opening in
+the "near future"; Maguire's Jenny Lind Theater notified one in
+conspicuous letters, "We Will Soon Be Ready for Our Patrons, Bigger and
+Grander Than Ever."
+
+Benito nodded to Robert Parker, whose hotel was rising, phoenix-like
+from its ashes.
+
+"Things are coming along," he said with a gesture toward the buildings.
+"Have you seen anything of Dave Broderick?"
+
+Parker shook the rain-drops from his hat. "Saw him going toward the
+Bella Union," he replied. "They say he's as good as elected. A fine
+State senator he'll make, too." Taking Benito's arm, he walked with him
+out of earshot of those nearby.
+
+"Benito," his tone was grave. "They tell me you've resumed possession of
+your ranch."
+
+"Yes," confirmed the younger. "Half a dozen of my old servants are there
+with Mrs. Windham and myself. I've bought a little stock on credit and
+all's going well."
+
+For a moment Parker said nothing; then, almost in Benito's ear, he spoke
+a warning: "Do you know that McTurpin is back?"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+ON THE TRAIL OF McTURPIN
+
+Benito, in a mood of high excitement, strode uphill toward the Bella
+Union, pondering the significance of Parker's startling information.
+
+So McTurpin had come back.
+
+He had been about to ask for further details when one of the hurrying
+workmen called his informant away. After all it did not matter much just
+how or when the gambler had returned. They were sure to meet sooner or
+later. Once more Windham's hand unconsciously sought the pistol in his
+pocket. At the entrance of the Bella Union he halted, shook the rain
+from his hat, scraped the mud from his feet upon a pile of gunnysacks
+which served as doormats, and went into the brilliant room. Since the
+temporary closing of the Eldorado, this place had become the most
+elegant and crowded of the city's gaming palaces. A mahogany bar
+extended the length of the building; huge hanging lamps surrounded by
+ornate clusters of prisms lent an air of jeweled splendor which the
+large mirrors and pyramids of polished glasses back of the counter
+enhanced. On a platform at the rear were several Mexican musicians in
+rich native costumes twanging gaily upon guitars and mandolins. Now and
+then one of them sang, or a Spanish dancer pirouetted, clicking her
+castanets and casting languishing glances at the ring of auditors about
+her. These performers were invariably showered with coins. Tables of all
+sizes filled the center of the room from the long roulette board to the
+little round ones where drinks were served. Faro, monte, roulette, rouge
+et noir, vingt-un, chuck-a-luck and poker: each found its disciples;
+now and then a man went quietly out and another took his place; there
+was nothing to indicate that he had lost perhaps thousands of dollars,
+the "clean-up" of a summer of hardships at the mines. A bushy bearded
+miner boasted that he had won $40,000 and lost it again in an hour and a
+half. Henry Mellus offered him work as a teamster and the
+other accepted.
+
+"Easy come, easy go," he commented philosophically and, lighting his
+pipe from one of the sticks of burning punk placed at intervals along
+the bar, he went out.
+
+In an out-of-the-way corner, where the evening's noise and activity
+ebbed and flowed a little more remotely, Benito discovered Broderick
+chewing an unlighted cigar and discussing the probabilities of election
+with John Geary. They hailed him cordially, but in a little while Geary
+drifted off to learn further news of the polls.
+
+"And how is the charming Mrs. Windham?" asked Broderick.
+
+"Well and happy, thank you," said Benito. "She loves the old place.
+Cannot you dine with us there tonight?"
+
+"With real pleasure," Broderick returned. "In this raw, boisterous place
+a chance to enjoy a bit of home life, to talk with a high-bred woman is
+more precious than gold."
+
+Benito bowed. "It is not often that we have a Senator for a guest," he
+returned, smiling.
+
+Broderick placed a hand upon his shoulder almost paternally. "I hope
+that is prophetic, Benito," he said. "I'm strangely serious about it.
+This town has taken hold of me--your San Francisco."
+
+They turned to greet Sam Brannan, now a candidate for the ayuntamiento
+or town council. "How goes it, Sam?" asked Broderick.
+
+"Well enough," responded Brannan. He looked tired, irritated. "There's
+been a conspiracy against us by the rowdy element, but I think we've
+beaten them now."
+
+Broderick's brow clouded. "We need a better government; a more
+effective system of police, Sam," he said, striking his first against
+the table.
+
+"What we need," said Brannan, "is a citizens' society of public safety;
+a committee of vigilance. And, mark my word, we're going to have 'em.
+There's more than one who suspects the town was set afire last
+December."
+
+"But," said Broderick, "mob rule is dangerous. The constituted
+authorities must command. They are the ones to uphold the law."
+
+"But what if they don't?" Brannan's aggressive chin was thrust forward.
+"What then?"
+
+"They must be made to; but authority should not be overthrown. That's
+revolution."
+
+"And where, may I ask, would human liberty be today if there'd never
+been a revolution?" Brannan countered.
+
+Benito left them. He had no stomach for such argument, though he was to
+hear much more of it in years to come. Suddenly he recalled the man who
+had tried to coach the Kanaka; who had glared so murderously at Mellus.
+Those eyes had been familiar; something about them had made him grip his
+pistol, an impulse at which afterward he had laughed. But now he knew
+the reason for that half-involuntary action. Despite the beard and
+mustache covering the lower portion of his face completely; despite the
+low-pulled hat, the disguising ulster, he knew the man.
+
+McTurpin.
+
+The hot Spanish temper which he had never entirely mastered, flamed like
+a scorching blast across Benito's mind. He saw again McTurpin smiling as
+he won by fraud the stake at cards which he had laid against Benito's
+ranch; he seemed to hear again the gambler's sneering laugh as he, his
+father and Adrian had been ambushed at the entrance of his home; in his
+recollection burned the fellow's insult to his sister; the abduction of
+Alice, his wife; the murder of his partner. He was certain that
+McTurpin had somehow been at the bottom of it. Swiftly he was lost to
+all reason. He took the weapon from his pocket, examined it carefully to
+make certain that the caps were unimpaired by moisture. Then he
+set forth.
+
+At the polling station he made casual inquiries, but the ballot-box
+stuffer for some time had not been seen.
+
+"Charley Elleard ran him off, I think," said Frank Ward, laughing. "He'd
+have voted Chinamen and Indians if he'd had his way. But if you're
+looking for the rascal try the gambling house at Long Wharf and
+Montgomery street; that's where his kind hang out."
+
+Later in the spring of 1850 Montgomery street was graded. Now it was a
+sloping streak of mud, the western side of which was several feet above
+the other. Where Long Wharf, which was to be cut through and called
+Commercial street, intersected, or rather bisected Montgomery, stood a
+large building with a high, broad roof. Its eaves projected over a row
+of benches, and here, sheltered somewhat from the rain, a group of
+Mexicans and Chilenos lounged in picturesque native costumes, smoking
+cigarettes. Through the door came a rollicking melody--sailor tunes
+played by skillful performers--and a hum of converse punctuated by the
+click of chips and coin. Benito entered. The room was blue with
+cigarette smoke, its score of tables glimpsed as through a fog. Sawdust
+covered the floor and men of all nationalities mingled quietly enough at
+play of every kind. A stream of men came and went to and from the gaming
+boards and bar.
+
+Benito ordered a drink, and surveyed the room searchingly. The man he
+sought was not in evidence. "Is McTurpin here?" he asked the bartender.
+
+If that worthy heard, he made no answer; but a slight, agile man with
+sly eyes looked up from a nearby table, "What d'ye want of him,
+stranger?"
+
+An arrogant retort sprang to Benito's lips, but he checked it. He bent
+toward the questioner confidentially. "I've news for Alec," he
+whispered; "news he ought to know--and quickly."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+THE SQUATTER CONSPIRACY
+
+Instantly the slight man rose. He had narrow eyes, shrewd and
+calculating and the sinuous motions of a contortionist. Linking his arm
+with Benito's, he smiled, disclosing small, discolored teeth. There was
+something ratlike about him, infinitely repellant. "Come, I'll tyke ye
+to 'im," he volunteered.
+
+But this did not suit Benito's purpose. "I must go alone," he said
+emphatically.
+
+The other eyed him with suspicion. "Then find him alone," he countered,
+sullenly. But a moment later he was plucking at Benito's elbow. "What's
+it all abaout, this 'ere news? Cawn't ye tell a fellow? Give me an
+inklin'; trust me and I'll trust you; that's business."
+
+Benito hesitated. "It's about the ranch," he returned at a venture.
+
+"Ow, the rawnch. Well, you needn't 'ave been so bloody sly about it.
+Alec isn't worried much abaout the rawnch. 'E's bigger fish to fry. But
+you can see 'im if you wants. 'E's at the Broken Bottle Tavern up in
+Sydney Town."
+
+They had a drink together; then Benito parted from his informant,
+ruminating over what the little man, so palpably a "Sydney Duck,"
+had told him.
+
+Benito surveyed his reflection in a glass. In his rain-bedraggled attire
+he might pass for one of the Sydney Ducks himself. His boots were
+splashed with mud, his scrape wrinkled and formless. He pulled the
+dripping hat into a disheveled slouch, low down on his forehead.
+McTurpin had not seen him with a beard, had failed to recognize him at
+the polling station. Benito decided to risk it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+One of the largest and most pretentious of Sydney Town's "pubs," or
+taverns, was The Broken Bottle, kept by a former English pugilist from
+Botany Bay. He was known as Bruiser Jake, could neither read nor write
+and was shaped very much like a log, his neck being as large as his
+head. It was said that the Australian authorities had tried to hang him
+several times, but failed because the noose slipped over his chin and
+ears, refusing its usual function. So he finally had been given a
+"ticket of leave" and had come to California. Curiously enough the
+Bruiser never drank. He prided himself on his sobriety and the great
+strength of his massive hands in which he could squeeze the water out of
+a potato. Ordinarily he was not quarrelsome, though he fought like a
+tiger when aroused.
+
+Benito found this worthy behind his bar and asked for a drink of English
+ale, a passable quality of which was served in the original imported
+bottles at most public houses.
+
+The Bruiser watched him furtively with little piglike eyes. "And who
+might ye be, stranger?" he asked when Benito set down his glass.
+
+"'Awkins--that's as good a nyme as another," said Benito, essaying the
+cockney speech. "And what ye daon't know won't 'urt you, my friend." He
+threw down a silver piece, took the bottle and glass with him and sat
+down at a table near the corner. Hard by he had glimpsed the familiar
+broad back of McTurpin.
+
+At first the half-whispered converse of the trio at the adjoining table
+was incomprehensible to his ears, but after a time he caught words,
+phrases, sentences.
+
+First the word "squatters" reached him, several times repeated; then,
+"at Rincon." Finally, "the best lots in the city can be held."
+
+After that for a time he lost the thread of the talk. An argument
+arose, and, in its course, McTurpin's voice was raised incautiously.
+
+"Who's to stop us?" he contended, passionately. "The old alcalde grants
+aren't worth the paper they're written on. Haven't squatters
+dispossessed the Spaniards all over California? Didn't they take the San
+Antonio ranch in Oakland, defend it with cannon, and put old Peralta in
+jail for bothering them with his claims of ownership?" He laughed. "It's
+a rare joke, this land business. If we squat on the Rincon, who'll
+dispossess us? Answer me that."
+
+"But it's government ground. It's leased to Ted Shillaber," one
+objected.
+
+"To the devil with Shillaber," McTurpin answered. "He won't know we're
+going to squat till we've put up our houses. And when he comes we'll
+quote him squatter law. He can buy us off if he likes. It'll cost him
+uncommon high. He can fight us in the courts and we'll show him squatter
+justice. We've our friends in the courts, let me tell you."
+
+"Aye, mayhap," returned a lanky, red-haired sailor, "but there's them o'
+us, like you and me and Andy, yonder, what isn't hankerin' for courts."
+
+McTurpin leaned forward, and his voice diminished so that Benito could
+scarcely hear his words. "Don't be afraid," he said. "I've got my men
+selected for the Rincon business, a full dozen of 'em ... all with clean
+records, mind ye. Nothing against them." He pounded the table with his
+fist by way of emphasis. "And when we've done old Shillaber, we'll come
+in closer. We'll claim lots that are worth fifty thou--" He paused. His
+tone sank even lower, so that some of his sentence was lost.
+
+It was at this juncture that Benito sneezed. He had felt the approach of
+that betraying reflex for some minutes, but had stifled it. Those who
+have tried this under similar circumstances know the futility of such
+attempts; know the accumulated fury of sound with which at length
+bursts forth the startling, terrible and irrepressible
+
+"Ker-CHEW!"
+
+McTurpin and his two companions wheeled like lightning. "Who's this?"
+the gambler snarled. He took a step toward the Bruiser. "Who the devil
+let him in to spy on us?"
+
+"Aw, stow it, Alec!" said the former fighter. "'E's no spy. 'E's one o'
+our lads from the bay. Hi can tell by 'is haccent."
+
+Benito rose. His hand crept toward the derringer, but McTurpin was
+before him. "Don't try that, blast you!" he commanded. "Now, my friend,
+let's have a look at you.... By the Eternal! It's young Windham!"
+
+"The cove you don hout o' his rawnch?" asked the Bruiser, curiously.
+
+"Shut up, you fool!" roared the gambler. His face was white with fury.
+"What are you doing here?" he asked Benito.
+
+"Getting some points on--er--land holding," said Windham. He was
+perfectly calm. Several times this man had overawed, outwitted, beaten
+him. Now, though he was in the enemy's country, surrounded by cutthroats
+and thieves, he felt suddenly the master of the situation. Perhaps it
+was McTurpin's dismay, perhaps the spur of his own danger. He knew that
+there was only one escape, and that through playing on McTurpin's anger.
+"A most ingenious scheme, but it'll fail you!"
+
+"And why'll it fail, my young jackanapes?" the gambler blazed at him.
+"Do you reckon I'll let you go to give the alarm?"
+
+It was then Benito threw his bombshell. It was but a shrewd guess. Yet
+it worked amazingly. "Your plan will fail," he said with slow
+distinctness, "because Sam Brennan and Alcalde Geary know you set the
+town afire. Because they're going to hang you."
+
+Rage and terror mingled in McTurpin's face. Speechless, paralyzing
+wrath that held him open-mouthed a moment. In that moment Windham acted
+quickly. He hurled the bottle, still half full of ale, at his
+antagonist, missed him by the fraction of an inch and sent the missile
+caroming against the Bruiser's ear, thence down among a pyramid of
+glasses. There was a shivering tinkle; then the roar as of a maddened
+bull. The Bruiser charged. Windham shot twice into the air and fled. He
+heard a rending crash behind him, a voice that cried aloud in mortal
+pain, a shot. Then, silence.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+"GROWING PAINS"
+
+On the morning of February 28, 1850, Theodore Shillaber, with a number
+of friends, made a visit to the former's leased land on the Rincon,
+later known as Rincon Hill. Here, on the old government reserve, whose
+guns had once flanked Yerba Buena Cove, Shillaber had secured a lease on
+a commanding site which he planned to convert into a fashionable
+residence section. What was his surprise, then, to find the scenic
+promontory covered with innumerable rickety and squalid huts. A tall and
+muscular young fellow with open-throated shirt and stalwart, hirsute
+chest, swaggered toward him, fingering rather carelessly, it seemed to
+Shillaber, the musket he held.
+
+"Lookin' for somebody, stranger?" he inquired, meaningly.
+
+Shillaber, somewhat taken aback, inquired by what right the members of
+this colony held possession.
+
+"Squatter's rights," returned the large youth, calmly, and spat
+uncomfortably near to Shillaber's polished boots.
+
+"And what are squatter's rights, may I ask?" said Shillaber, striving to
+control his rising temper.
+
+The youth tapped his rifle barrel. "Anyone that tries to dispossess
+us'll soon find out," he returned gruffly, and, turning his back on the
+visitors, he strode back toward his cabin.
+
+"Wait," called Shillaber, red with wrath, "I notify you now, in the
+presence of witnesses that if you and all your scurvy crew are not gone
+bag and baggage within twentyfour hours, I'll have the authorities
+dispossess you and throw you into jail for trespassing."
+
+The large young man halted and presented a grinning face to his
+threatener. He did not deign to reply, but, as though he had given a
+signal, shrill cackles of laughter broke out in a dozen places.
+
+Shillaber, who was a choleric man, shook his fist at them. He was too
+angry for speech.
+
+Shillaber had more than his peck of trouble with the Sydney Ducks that
+roosted on his land. He sent the town authorities to dispossess them,
+but without result. There were too many squatters and too few police.
+Next he sent an agent to collect rents, but the man returned with a sore
+head and bruised body, minus coin. Shillaber was on the verge of
+insanity. He appealed to everyone from the prefect to the governor. In
+Sydney Town his antics were the sport of a gay and homogeneous
+population and at the public houses one might hear the flouted landlord
+rave through the impersonations of half a dozen clever mimics. At The
+Broken Bottle a new boniface held forth. Bruiser Jake had mysteriously
+disappeared on the evening of election. And with him had vanished Alec
+McTurpin, though a sly-eyed little man now and then brought messages
+from the absent leader.
+
+In the end Shillaber triumphed, for he persuaded Captain Keyes,
+commander at the Presidio, that the squatters were defying Federal law.
+Thus, one evening, a squad of cavalry descended upon the Rincon
+squatters, scattering them like chaff and demolishing their flimsy
+habitations in the twinkling of an eye. But this did not end
+squatterism. Some of the evicted took up claims on lots closer in. A
+woman's house was burned and she, herself, was driven off. Another woman
+was shot while defending her husband's home during his absence.
+
+Meanwhile, San Francisco's streets had been graded and planked. The old
+City Hall, proving inadequate, was succeeded by a converted hotel. The
+Graham House, a four-story wooden affair of many balconies, at Kearny
+and Pacific streets, was now the seat of local government.
+
+For it the council paid the extraordinary sum of $150,000, thereby
+provoking a storm of newspaper discussion. Three destructive fires had
+ravaged through the cloth and paper districts, and on their ashes more
+substantial structures stood.
+
+There was neither law nor order worthy of the name. Only feverish
+activity. A newsboy who peddled Altas on the streets made $40,000 from
+his operations; another vendor of the Sacramento Union, boasted $30,000
+for his pains. A washerwoman left her hut on the lagoon and built a
+"mansion." Laundering, enhanced by real estate investments, had given
+her a fortune of $100,000.
+
+Social strata were not yet established. Caste was practically unknown.
+Former convicts married, settled down, became respected citizens.
+Carpenters, bartenders, laborers, mechanics from the East and Middle
+West, became bankers, Senators, judges, merchant princes and promoters.
+
+White linen replaced red flannel, bowie knives and revolvers were
+sedately hidden beneath frock coats, the vicuna hat was a substitute for
+slouch and sombrero.
+
+But, under it all, the fierce, restless heart of San Francisco beat on
+unchanged. In it stirred the daring, the lawless adventure, the feverish
+ambition and the hair-trigger pride of argonauts from many lands. And in
+it burned the deviltry, brutality, licentiousness and greed of criminal
+elements freed from the curb of legal discipline.
+
+David Broderick discussed it frequently with Alice Windham. He had
+fallen into a habit of coming to the ranch when wearied by affairs of
+state. He was a silent, brooding man, robbed somehow of his national
+heritage, a sense of humor, for he had Irish blood. He was a man of
+fire, implacable as an enemy, inalienable as a friend. And to Alice, as
+she sat embroidering or knitting before the fire, he told many of his
+dreams, his plans. She would nod her head sagely, giving him her eyes
+now and then--eyes that were clear and calm with understanding.
+
+Thus Alice came to know what boded for the town of San Francisco.
+"Benito," she said one night, when Broderick had gone, "Benito, my
+dearest, will you let me stir you--even if it wounds?" She came up
+behind him quickly; put her arms about his neck and leaned her golden
+head against his own. "We are sitting here too quietly ... while life
+goes by," her tone was wistful. "You, especially, Benito. Outside teems
+the world; the gorgeous, vibrant world of which our David speaks."
+
+"What do you want me to do?" he asked, stirring restlessly, "go into
+business? Make money--like Adrian?"
+
+"No, no," she nestled closer. "It isn't money that I crave. We are happy
+here. But"--she looked up at the portrait of Francisco Garvez, and
+Benito followed her glance. "What would he have you do?"
+
+"I promised him in thought," her husband said, "that I would help to
+build the city he loved. It was a prophecy," his tone grew dreamy, "a
+prophecy that he and his--the Garvez blood--should always stir in San
+Francisco's heart." Swiftly he rose and, standing very straight before
+the picture, raised his right hand to salute. "You are right," he said.
+"He would have wanted me to be a soldier."
+
+But Alice shook her head. "The conquest is over," she told him. "San
+Francisco needs no gun nor saber now. In our courts and legislatures lie
+the future battlegrounds for justice. You must study law, Benito.... I
+want"--quick color tinged her face--"I want my--son to have a
+father who--"
+
+"Alice!" cried Benito. But she fled from him. The door of her bedroom
+closed behind her. But it opened again very softly--"who makes his
+country's laws," she finished, fervently.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI
+
+THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEE
+
+About 8 o'clock on the evening of February 19, 1851, two men entered the
+store of C.J. Jansen & Co., a general merchandise shop on Montgomery
+street. The taller and older presented a striking figure. He was of such
+height that, possibly from entering many low doorways, he had acquired a
+slight stoop. His beard was long and dark, his hair falling to the
+collar, was a rich and wavy brown. He had striking eyes, an aquiline
+nose and walked with a long, measured stride. Charles Jansen, alone in
+the store, noted these characteristics half unconsciously and paid
+little attention to the smaller man who lurked behind his companion in
+the shadows.
+
+"Show me some blankets," said the tall man peremptorily. Jansen did not
+like his tone, nor his looks for that matter, but he turned toward a
+shelf where comforters, sheets and blankets were piled in orderly array.
+As he did so he heard a quick step behind him; the universe seemed to
+split asunder in a flash of countless stars. And then the world
+turned black.
+
+Hours afterward his partner found him prone behind the counter, a great
+bleeding cut on his head. The safe stood open and a hasty examination
+revealed the loss of $2,000 in gold dust and coin. Jansen was revived
+with difficulty and, after a period of delirium, described what had
+occurred. The next morning's Alta published a sensational account of the
+affair, describing Jansen's assailant and stating that the victim's
+recovery was uncertain.
+
+As Adrian, Benito and Samuel Brannan passed the new city hall on the
+morning of February 22, they noticed that a crowd was gathering. People
+seemed to be running from all directions. Newsboys with huge armfuls of
+morning papers, thrust them in the faces of pedestrians, crying, "Extra!
+Extra! Assassins of Jansen caught." Adrian tossed the nearest lad a
+two-bit piece and grasped the outstretched sheet. It related in heavy
+blackfaced type the arrest of "two scoundrelly assassins," one of whom,
+James Stuart, a notorious "Sydney Duck," was wanted in Auburn for the
+murder of Sheriff Moore. This was the man identified by Jansen. He
+claimed mistaken identity, however, insisting that his name was
+Thomas Berdue.
+
+"They'll let him go on that ridiculous plea, no doubt," remarked
+Brannan, wrathfully. "There are always a dozen alibis and false
+witnesses for these gallows-birds. It's time the people were doing
+something."
+
+"It looks very much as though we _were_ doing something," said Benito,
+with a glance at the gathering crowd.
+
+There were shouts of "Lynch them! Bring them out and hang them to a
+tree!" Someone thrust a handbill toward Benito, who grasped it
+mechanically. It read:
+
+     CITIZENS OF SAN FRANCISCO
+
+     The series of murders and robberies that have been committed
+     in the city seems to leave us entirely in a state of anarchy.
+     Law, it appears, is but a nonentity to be sneered at; redress
+     can be had for aggression but through the never-failing
+     remedy so admirably laid down in the Code of Judge Lynch.
+
+     All those who would rid our city of its robbers and murderers
+     will assemble on Sunday at 2 o'clock on the Plaza.
+
+"This means business," commented Adrian grimly. "It may mean worse
+unless their temper cools. I've heard this Stuart has a double. They
+should give him time--"
+
+"Bosh!" cried Brannan, "they should string him up immediately." He
+waved the handbill aloft. "Hey, boys," he called out loudly, "let us go
+and take them. Let us have a little justice in this town."
+
+"Aye, aye," cried a score of voices. Instantly a hundred men rushed up
+the stairs and pushed aside policemen stationed at the doors. They
+streamed inward, hundreds more pushing from the rear until the court
+room was reached. There they halted suddenly. Angry shouts broke from
+the rear. "What's wrong ahead? Seize the rascals. Bring them out!"
+
+But the front rank of that invading army paused for an excellent reason.
+They faced a row of bayonets with determined faces behind them. Sheriff
+Hayes had sensed the brewing troubles and had brought the Washington
+Guards quietly in at a rear entrance.
+
+So the crowd fell back and the first mob rush was baffled. Outside the
+people still talked angrily. At least a thousand thronged the court
+house, surrounding it with the determined and angry purpose of letting
+no one escape. Mayor Geary made his way with difficulty through the
+press and urged them to disperse. He assured them that the law would
+take its proper course and that there was no danger of the prisoners'
+release or escape. They listened to him respectfully but very few left
+their posts. Here and there speakers addressed the multitude.
+
+The crowd, the first fever abated, had resolved itself into a
+semi-parliamentary body. But no real leader had arisen. And so it
+arrived at nothing save the appointment of a committee to confer with
+the authorities and insure the proper guarding of the prisoners. Brannan
+was one of these and Benito another.
+
+"Windham's getting to be a well-known citizen," said a bystander to
+Adrian, "I hear he's studying law with Hall McAllister. Used to be a
+dreamy sort of chap. He's waking up."
+
+"Yes, his wife is at the bottom of it," Stanley answered.
+
+Sunday morning 8,000 people surrounded the courthouse. Less turbulent
+than on the previous day, their purpose was more grimly certain.
+
+Mayor Geary's impressive figure appeared on the balcony of the court
+house. He held out a hand for silence and amid the hush that followed,
+spoke with brevity and to the point.
+
+"The people's will is final," he conceded, "but this very fact entails
+responsibility, noblesse oblige! What we want is justice, gentlemen.
+Now, I'll tell you how to make it sure. Appoint a jury of twelve men
+from among yourselves. Let them sit at the trial with the presiding
+judge. Their judgment shall be final. I pledge you my word for that."
+
+He ceased and again the crowd began murmuring. A tall, smooth-shaven
+youth began to talk with calm distinctness.
+
+There was about him the aspect of command. People ceased their talk to
+listen. "I move you, gentlemen," he shouted, "that a committee of twelve
+men be appointed from amongst us to retire and consider this situation
+calmly. They shall then report and if their findings are approved, they
+shall be law."
+
+"Good! Good!" came a chorus of voices. "Hurray for Bill Coleman. Make
+him chairman."
+
+Coleman bowed. "I thank you, gentlemen," he said, then crisply, like so
+many whip-cracks, he called the names of eleven men. One by one they
+answered and the crowd made way for them. Silently and in a body
+they departed.
+
+"There's a leader for you," exclaimed Adrian to his brother-in-law.
+Benito nodded, eyes ashine with admiration. Presently there was a stir
+among the crowd. The jury was returning. "Well, gentlemen," the mayor
+raised his voice, "what is the verdict?"
+
+Coleman answered: "We recommend that the prisoners be tried by the
+people. If the legal courts wish to aid they're invited. Otherwise we
+shall appoint a prosecutor and attorney for the prisoners. The trial
+will take place this afternoon."
+
+"Hurray! Hurray!" the people shouted. The cheers were deafening.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+THE PEOPLE'S JURY
+
+Benito, as he elbowed his way through a crowd which ringed the city hall
+that afternoon, was impressed by the terrific tight-lipped determination
+of those faces all about him. It was as though San Francisco had but one
+thought, one straight, relentless purpose--the punishment of crime by
+Mosaic law. The prisoners in the county jail appeared to sense this wave
+of retributive hatred, for they paced their cells like caged beasts.
+
+It was truly a case of "The People vs. Stuart (alias Berdue) and
+Windred," charged with robbery and assault. Coleman and his Committee of
+Twelve were in absolute charge. They selected as judges, three popular
+and trusted citizens, J.R. Spence, H.R. Bowie and C.L. Ross. W.A. Jones
+was named the judge's clerk and J.E. Townes the whilom sheriff.
+
+While the jury was impaneling, Brannan spoke to Benito: "Twelve good men
+and true; the phrase means something here. Lord, if we could have such
+jurymen as these in all our American courts."
+
+Benito nodded. "They've appointed Bill Coleman as public prosecutor;
+that's rather a joke on Bill."
+
+Judge Spence, who sat between his two colleagues, presiding on the
+bench, now spoke:
+
+"I appoint Judge Shattuck and--er--Hall McAllister as counsel for the
+defendants."
+
+There was a murmur of interest. Judge Shattuck, dignified, a trifle
+ponderous, came forward, spectacles in hand. He put them on, surveyed
+his clients with distaste, and took his place composedly at the table.
+Hall McAllister, dapper, young and something of a dandy, advanced with
+less assurance. He would have preferred the other side of the case, for
+he did not like running counter to the people.
+
+Amid a stir the prisoners were led forward to the dock. Judge Spence,
+looking down at them over his spectacles, read the charges. "Are you
+guilty or not guilty?" he asked.
+
+Windred, the younger, with a frightened glance about the court room,
+murmured almost inaudibly, "Not guilty." The other, in a deep and
+penetrating voice, began a sort of speech. It was incoherent, agonized.
+Benito thought it held a semblance of sincerity.
+
+"Always, your honor," he declared, "I am mistaken for that scoundrel;
+that Stuart.... I am a decent man ... but what is the use? I say it's
+terrible...."
+
+"Judge" Spence removed his eyeglasses and wiped them nervously; "does
+anyone in the courtroom recognize this man as Thomas Berdue?"
+
+There was silence. Then a hand rose. "I do," said the voice of a
+waterfront merchant. "I've done business with him under that name."
+
+Immediately there was an uproar. "A confederate," cried voices. "Put him
+out." A woman's voice in the background shrieked out shrilly, "Hang
+him, too!"
+
+McAllister rose. "There must be order here," he said, commandingly and
+the tumult subsided. McAllister addressed Berdue's sponsor. "Can you
+bring anyone else to corroborate your testimony?"
+
+The merchant, red and angry, cried: "It's nothing to me; hang him and be
+damned--if you don't want the truth. I'm not looking for trouble." He
+turned away but the prisoner called to him piteously. "Don't desert me.
+Find Jones or Murphy down at the long wharf. They'll identify me....
+Hurry! Hurry! ... or they'll string me up!"
+
+"All right," agreed the other reluctantly. He left the court room and
+Judge Shattuck moved a postponement of the case.
+
+"Your honor," William Coleman now addressed the court, "this is no
+ordinary trial. Ten thousand people are around this courthouse. They are
+there because the public patience with legal decorum is exhausted;
+however regular and reasonable my colleague's plea might be in ordinary
+circumstances, I warn you that to grant it will provoke disorder."
+
+Judge Shattuck, startled, glanced out of the window and conferred with
+Hall McAllister.
+
+"I withdraw my petition," he said hurriedly. The case went on.
+
+Witnesses who were present when the prisoners were identified by Jansen
+gave their testimony. There was little cross-examination, though
+McAllister established Jansen's incomplete recovery of his mental
+faculties when the men were brought before him. Coleman pointed out the
+striking appearance of the older prisoner; there was little chance to
+err he claimed in such a case. The record of James Stuart was then dwelt
+upon; a history black with evil doing, red with blood. The jury retired
+with the sinister determined faces of men who have made up their minds.
+
+Meanwhile, outside, the crowd stood waiting, none too patiently. Now and
+then a messenger came to the balcony and shouted out the latest aspect
+of the drama being enacted inside. The word was caught up by the first
+auditor, passed along to right and left until the whole throng knew and
+speculated on each bit of information.
+
+Adrian, caught in the outer eddies of that human maelstrom, found
+himself beside Juana Briones. "The jury's out," she told him. "Jury's
+out!" the word swept onward. Then there came a long and silent wait.
+Once again the messenger appeared. "Still out," he bellowed, "having
+trouble." "What's the matter with them?" a score of voices shouted.
+Presently the messenger returned. His face was angry, almost apoplectic.
+One could see that he was having difficulty with articulation. He waved
+his hands in a gesture of impotent wrath. At last he found his voice and
+shouted, "Disagreed. The jury's disagreed."
+
+An uproar followed. "Hang the jury!" cried an irate voice. A rush was
+made for the entrance. But two hundred armed, determined men opposed the
+onslaught. The very magnitude of the human press defeated its own ends.
+Men cried aloud that they were being crushed. Women screamed.
+
+Soon or late the defenders must have fallen. But now a strange diversion
+occurred. On the balcony appeared General Baker, noted as the city's
+greatest orator. In his rich, sonorous tones, he began a political
+speech. It rang even above the excited shouts of the mob. Instantly
+there was a pause, an almost imperceptible let-down of the tension.
+Those who could not see asked eagerly of others, "What's the matter now?
+Who's talking?"
+
+"It's Ed Baker making a speech."
+
+Someone laughed. A voice roared. "Rah for Ed Baker." Others took it up.
+
+Impulsive, variable as the wind, San Francisco found a new adventure. It
+listened spellbound to golden eloquence, extolling the virtues of a
+favored candidate. Meanwhile Acting Sheriff Townes rushed his prisoners
+to the county jail without anyone so much as noticing their departure.
+
+Presently three men came hurrying up and with difficulty made their way
+into the court room.
+
+"Good God! Are we too late?" the leader of the trio asked, excitedly. He
+was the waterfront merchant who had recognized Berdue.
+
+"Too late for the trial," returned Coleman; "it's over; the jury's
+dismissed. Disagreed."
+
+"And what are they doing outside?" cried the other, "are they hanging
+the prisoners?"
+
+"No, the prisoners are safe," returned Coleman, "though they had a
+close enough shave, I'll admit." He laid a hand upon Benito's shoulder
+and there came a twinkle to his eyes. "Our young friend here had an
+inspiration--better than a hundred muskets. He sent Ed Baker out to
+charm them with his tongue."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII
+
+THE RECKONING
+
+It was June on the rancho Windham. Roses and honeysuckle climbed the
+pillars and lattices of the patio; lupin and golden poppies dotted the
+hillsides. Cloud-plumes waved across the faultless azure of a California
+summer sky and distant to the north and east, a million spangled flecks
+of sunlight danced upon the bay.
+
+David Broderick sat on a rustic bench, his eyes on Alice Windham. He
+thought, with a vague stirring of unrecognized emotion that she seemed
+the spirit of womanhood in the body of a fay.
+
+"A flower for your thoughts," she paraphrased and tossed him a rose.
+Instinctively he pressed it to his lips. He saw her color rise and
+turned away. For a moment neither spoke.
+
+"My thoughts," he said at length, "have been of evil men and trickery
+and ambition. I realize that, always, when I come here--when I see you,
+Alice Windham. For a little time I am uplifted. Then I go back to my
+devious toiling in the dark."
+
+A shadow crossed her eyes, but a smile quickly chased it away. "You are
+a fine man, David Broderick," she said, "brave and wonderful and strong.
+Why do you stoop to--"
+
+"To petty politics?" his answering smile was rueful. "Because I must--to
+gain my ends. To climb a hill-top often one must go into a valley.
+That is life."
+
+"No, that is sophistry," her clear, straight glance was on him
+searchingly. "You tell me that a statesman must be first a politician;
+that a politician must consort with rowdies, ballot-box stuffers,
+gamblers--even thieves. David Broderick, you're wrong. Women have their
+intuitions which are often truer than men's logic." She leaned forward,
+laid a hand half shyly on his arm. "I know this much, my friend: As
+surely as you climb your ladder with the help of evil forces, just so
+surely will they pull you down."
+
+It was thus that Benito came upon them. "Scolding Dave again?" He
+questioned merrily, "What has our Lieutenant-Governor been doing now?"
+
+"Consorting with rowdies, gamblers, ballot-box stuffers--not to mention
+thieves, 'twould seem," said Broderick with a forced laugh. Alice
+Windham's eyes looked hurt. "He has accused himself," she said
+with haste.
+
+"You're always your own worst critic, Dave," Benito said. "I want to
+tell you something: The Vigilance Committee forms this afternoon."
+
+The other's eyes flashed. "What is that to me?" he asked, with some
+asperity.
+
+"Only this," retorted Windham. "The committee means business; it's going
+to clean up the town--" Broderick made as if to speak but checked his
+utterance. Benito went on: "I tell you, Dave, you had better cut loose
+from your crowd. Some of them are going to get into trouble. You can't
+afford to have them running to you--calling you their master."
+
+He took from his pocket a folded paper. "We've been drafting a
+constitution, Hall McAllister and I." He read the rather stereotyped
+beginning. Broderick displayed small interest until Benito reached the
+conclusion:
+
+     WE ARE DETERMINED THAT NO THIEF, BURGLAR, INCENDIARY OR
+     ASSASSIN SHALL ESCAPE PUNISHMENT EITHER BY THE QUIBBLES OF
+     THE LAW, THE INSECURITY OF PRISONS, THE CARELESSNESS AND
+     CORRUPTION OF POLICE OR A LAXITY OF THOSE WHO PRETEND TO
+     ADMINISTER JUSTICE.
+
+"And do you mean," asked Broderick, "that these men will take the law
+into their own hands; that they'll apprehend so-called criminals and
+presume to mete out punishment according to their own ideas of justice?"
+
+"I mean just that," returned Benito.
+
+"Why--it's extraordinary," Broderick objected. "It's mob law--organized
+banditti."
+
+"You'll find it nothing of the sort," cried Windham hotly.
+
+"How can it be otherwise?' asked Broderick. What's to prevent rascals
+taking advantage of such a movement--running it to suit themselves?
+They're much cleverer than honest, men; more powerful.... Else do you
+think I'd use my political machine? No, no, Benito, this is
+farce--disaster."
+
+"Read this, then," urged Benito, and he thrust into the other's hand a
+list of some two hundred names. Broderick perused it with growing
+gravity. It represented the flower of San Francisco's business and
+professional aristocracy, men of all political creeds, religious, social
+affiliations.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A few days afterward Broderick conferred with his lieutenants. Word went
+forth that he had cut his leading strings to city politics. Rumors of a
+storm were in the air. When it would break no one could say with
+certainty. The Committee of Vigilance had quietly established quarters
+on Battery street near Pine, where several secret meetings had been held
+and officers elected. These were not made known. Members were designated
+by numerals instead of names. Some said they wore masks but this was an
+unproven rumor.
+
+Broderick, brooding on these things one afternoon, was suddenly aware of
+many people running. He descried a man hastening down Long Wharf toward
+the bay. "Stop thief!" some one shouted. Others took it up. Broderick
+found himself running, too, over the loose boards of the wharf, in
+pursuit of the fleeing figure. The fugitive ran rapidly, despite a large
+burden slung over his shoulder. Presently he disappeared from view. But
+soon they glimpsed him in a boat, rowing lustily away.
+
+A dozen boats set out in chase. Shots rang out. "He's thrown his bundle
+in the water," someone cried. "He's diving," called another. A silence,
+then "We've got him," came a hail exultingly.
+
+Ere long a dripping figure surrounded by half a dozen captors, was
+brought upon the wharf. "He stole a safe from Virgin & Co.," Broderick
+was told. "The Vigilantes have him. They'll hang him probably. Come
+along and see the show."
+
+"But where are the police?" asked Broderick. The man laughed
+contemptuously. "Where they always are--asleep," he answered, and
+went on.
+
+Others brought the news that John Jenkins, an Australian convict, was
+the prisoner. He had several times escaped the clutches of the "law." He
+seemed to treat the whole proceeding as a bit of horseplay, joking
+profanely with his captors, boasting of his crimes.
+
+At 10 o'clock the Monumental fire bell struck several deep-toned notes
+and fifteen minutes later eighty members of the Vigilance Committee had
+assembled. The door was locked. A constable from the police department
+knocked upon it long without avail. Everything was very still about the
+building; even the crowd which gathered there to await developments
+conversed in whispers.
+
+At midnight several cloaked forms emerged, walking rapidly up the
+street. Then the California fire engine bell began to toll. James King
+of William, a local banker, leaving Vigilante quarters almost collided
+with Broderick. "What does that mean?" the latter asked; he pointed to
+the tolling bell.
+
+"It means," King answered, solemnly, "that Jenkins is condemned to
+death. He'll be executed on the Plaza in an hour."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV
+
+THE HANGING OF JENKINS
+
+Mayor Brenham pushed his way forward. "Did I understand you rightly, Mr.
+King?" he questioned. "This committee means to lynch a man--to
+murder him?"
+
+King turned upon him fiery-eyed. "I might accuse you of a hundred
+murders, sir, with much more justice. Where are your police when our
+citizens are slain? What are your courts but strongholds of political
+iniquity?" He raised his arm and with a dramatic gesture, pointed toward
+the city hall. "Go, Mayor Brenham, rouse your jackals of pretended
+law.... The people have risen. At the Plaza in an hour you shall see
+what Justice means."
+
+Several voices cheered. Brenham, overwhelmed, inarticulate before this
+outburst, turned and strode away. Broderick walked on thoughtfully. It
+was evident that the people were aroused past curbing. As he neared the
+city hall, Constable Charles Elleard approached him anxiously.
+
+"There's going to be trouble, isn't there?" he asked. "What shall we do?
+We've less than a hundred men, Mr. Broderick. Perhaps we could get
+fifty more."
+
+"Whatever happens, don't use firearms," Broderick cautioned. "One shot
+will set the town afire tonight." He came closer to the officer and
+whispered, "Make a show of interference, that's all.... If possible see
+that Sheriff Hayes' pistols don't go off.... You understand? I know
+what's best."
+
+Elleard nodded. Broderick went on. Soon he heard the tramp of many feet.
+A procession headed by men bearing torches, was proceeding down the
+street toward the Plaza. As they neared he saw Jenkins, hands tied
+behind his back, striding along in the midst of his captors. A rope was
+about his neck; it extended for a hundred feet behind him, upheld by
+many hands.
+
+Diagonally across the Plaza the procession streamed. At the flagstaff a
+halt was made. Samuel Brannan mounted a sand-heap and addressed
+the crowd.
+
+"I have been deputed by the Vigilance Committee," he began, "to tell you
+that John Jenkins has been fairly tried; he was proven guilty of grand
+larceny and other crimes." He paused dramatically. "The sentence of the
+People's Court is death through hanging by the neck. It will be executed
+here at once, with your approval. All who are in favor of the
+committee's action, will say 'Aye.'"
+
+"Aye! Aye!" came a thunder of voices, mingled with a few desultory
+"noes." Sheriff Jack Hayes rode up importantly on his prancing black
+charger. "In the name of the law I command this proceeding to cease."
+
+"In the name of what law?" mocked Brannan, "the law you've been giving
+us for six months past?"
+
+A roar of laughter greeted this retort. The sheriff, red-faced, held up
+a hand for silence. "I demand the prisoner," he shouted.
+
+Instantly there was a quiet order. Fifty men in soldierly formation
+surrounded Jenkins. "Take him, then," a voice said pleasantly. It was
+William Coleman's. The guards of the forward ranks threw back their
+cloaks, revealing a score of business-like short-barrelled shotguns.
+
+Before this show of force, the gallant Hayes retreated, baffled. He was
+a former Texan ranger, fearless to a fault; but he was wise enough to
+know when he was beaten.
+
+"I've orders not to shoot," he said, "but I warn you that all who
+participate in this man's hanging will be liable for murder."
+
+Again came Brannan's sneer. "If we're as safe as the last hundred men
+that took human life in this town, we've nothing to fear." Again a
+chorus of derision. The sheriff turned, outraged, on his tormentor. "You
+shall hear from me, sir," he said indignantly, and wheeling his horse,
+he rode off.
+
+"String him up on the flagpole," suggested a bystander. But this was
+cried down with indignation. Several members who had been investigating
+now advanced with the recommendation that the hanging take place at the
+south-end of the old Custom House.
+
+"We can throw the rope over a beam," cried a tall man. He was one of
+those who had pursued and caught Jenkins on the bay. Now he seized the
+rope and called, "Come on, boys."
+
+There was a rush toward the southwest corner of the Plaza, so sudden
+that the hapless prisoner was jerked off his feet and dragged over the
+ground. When the improvised gallows was reached he was half strangled,
+could not stand. Several men supported him while others tossed the rope
+across the beam. Then, with a shout, he was jerked from his feet into
+space. His dangling figure jerked convulsively for a time, hung limp.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+After the inquest Brannan met William Coleman at Vigilante headquarters.
+"They were very hostile," he declared; "the political gang is hot on our
+trail. They questioned me as to the names on our committee. I told them
+we went by numbers only," he laughed.
+
+"There have been threats, veiled and open," said Coleman, soberly. "King
+has lost several good banking accounts and my business has fallen off
+noticeably. Friends have advised me to quit the committee--or worse
+things might happen."
+
+Brannan took a folded paper from his pocket; it was a printed scrawl
+unsigned, which read:
+
+"Beware; or your house will be burned. We mean business."
+
+A newsboy hurried down the street crying an extra on the inquest.
+Brannan snatched one from his hand and the two men perused it eagerly.
+The finding, couched in usual verbiage, recited the obvious facts that
+Jenkins, alias Simpson, perished by strangulation and that "an
+association of citizens styling themselves a Committee of Vigilance,"
+was responsible.
+
+"Eight of us are implicated, besides myself," said Brannan finally,
+"they'll start proceedings probably at once."
+
+"And they'll have the courts to back their dirty work," added Coleman,
+thoughtfully. "That will never do," his teeth shut with a little click.
+"I'm going to the _Herald_ office."
+
+"What for?" asked Brannan, quickly.
+
+"To publish the full list of names," Coleman responded. "We're all in
+this together; no group must bear the brunt."
+
+"But," objected Brannan, "is that wise?"
+
+"Of course.... in union there is strength. These crooks will hesitate to
+fight two hundred leading citizens; if they know them all they can't
+pick out a few for persecution."
+
+"Well, I'll go along," said Brannan. "Eh, what's that? What's happened
+now?"
+
+The Monumental engine bell was tolling violently. Coleman listened. "Its
+not a fire," he declared, "it's the Vigilante signal. We'll wait here."
+
+A man came running toward them from the bay. "They've captured James
+Stuart," he shouted. "Bludgeoned a captain on his ship but the man's
+wife held on to him and yelled till rescue came."
+
+"But Stuart's in the Auburn jail, awaiting execution for the murder of
+the sheriff," Coleman said bewildered.
+
+"No," cried the man, "this is the real one. The other's Tom Berdue, his
+double."
+
+"Then there'll be another hanging," Coleman muttered.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV
+
+THE PEOPLE AND THE LAW
+
+Frightened, desperate, angered by the usurpation of their power, varied
+forces combined in opposition to the Vigilance Committee. Political
+office-holders, good and bad, were naturally arrayed against it, and for
+the first time made a common cause. Among the politicians were many men
+of brains, especially those affiliated with the "Chivalry" faction, as
+it was known--Southern men whose object it was to introduce slavery into
+California. These were fiery, fearless, eloquent and quick at stratagem.
+There was also Broderick's Tammany organization, an almost perfect
+political machine, though as yet in the formative stage. There was the
+tacit union of the underworld; gamblers, thieves, plug-uglies, servitors
+of or parasites upon the stronger factions. Each and all they feared and
+hated this new order of the Vigilantes.
+
+Coleman's scheme of publishing the names of the entire committee was
+carried out after a meeting of the executive committee. It had the
+effect of taking the wind out of their opponents' sails for a time. But
+it also robbed committee members of a certain security. In a dozen dark
+and devious ways the Vigilantes were harassed, opposed; windows of shops
+were broken; men returning to their homes were set upon from ambush;
+long-standing business accounts were diverted or withdrawn. Even
+socially the feud was felt. For the Southerners were more or less the
+arbiters of society. Wives of Vigilante members were struck from
+invitation lists in important affairs. Whispers came to them that if
+their husbands were persuaded to withdraw, all would be well.
+
+A few, indeed, did hand their resignations to the committee, but more
+set their names with eagerness upon its roster.
+
+The hanging of James Stuart was impressive and conducted with extreme
+decorum. Stuart, tried before twelve regularly impaneled talesmen and
+defended by an advocate, cut matters short by a voluntary confession of
+his crimes. In fact, he boasted of them with a curious pride. Arson,
+murder, robbery, he admitted with a lavishness which first aroused a
+doubt as to his sanity and truth, but when in many of the cases he
+recited details which were later verified, all doubt as to his evil
+triumphs vanished.
+
+On the morning of July 11 he was sentenced. In the afternoon his body
+swung from a waterfront derrick at Battery and Market streets.
+
+"Get it over with," he urged his executioners, "this 'ere's damned
+tiresome business for a gentleman." He begged a "quid o' terbacker" from
+one of the guards and chewed upon it stolidly until the noose tightened
+about his neck. He did not struggle much. A vagrant wind blew off his
+hat and gently stirred his long and wavy hair.
+
+When Benito next saw Broderick he asked the latter anxiously if all were
+well with him. The latter answered with a wry smile, "I suppose so. I
+have not been ordered to leave town so far."
+
+"You've remembered what we told you--Alice and I?"
+
+"Yes," said Broderick, "and it was good advice. Tell your wife for me
+that woman's intuition sometimes sees more clearly than man's
+cunning.... It is nearer God and truth," he added, softly.
+
+"I shall tell her that. 'Twill please her," Benito replied. "You must
+come to see us soon."
+
+Brannan joined them rather anxiously and drew Benito aside with a
+brusque apology. "Do you know that Governor McDougall has issued a
+proclamation condemning the Vigilance Committee?... I happen to know
+that Broderick inspired this." He gave a covert glance over his
+shoulder, but the Lieutenant-Governor had wandered off. "So far he's
+taken no part against us. And we've left him alone. Now we shall
+strike back."
+
+"I shall advise against it," Windham objected. "Dave is honest. He's
+played fair."
+
+"If you think we're going to let this pass, you're quite mistaken,"
+Brannan answered, hotly. "Why, its not long ago that Governor McDougall
+came to our committee room and commended our work. Said he hoped we'd
+go on."
+
+"Exactly," said Benito, "in the presence of witnesses. Let us see if
+King and Coleman are inside. I have a plan."
+
+They found their tall and quiet leader with James King of William and
+half a dozen others already in session. Brannan, in fiery anger, read
+the Governor's proclamation. There was silence when he finished.
+Possibly a shade of consternation. "Windham's got a scheme to answer
+him," said Brannan.
+
+That day the _Evening Picayune_ printed the Committee's defn. It was as
+follows:
+
+     San Francisco, Aug. 20, 1851.
+
+     "We, the undersigned, do hereby aver that Governor McDougall
+     asked to be introduced to the executive committee of the
+     Committee of Vigilance, which was allowed and hour fixed. The
+     Governor, upon being introduced, states THAT HE APPROVED OF
+     THE ACTS OF THE COMMITTEE and that much good had taken place.
+     He HOPED THEY WOULD GO ON and endeavor to act in concert with
+     the authorities, AND IN CASE ANY JUDGE WAS GUILTY OF
+     MAL-ADMINISTRATION TO HANG HIM and he would appoint others."
+
+To this was appended the names of reputable citizens--men whose
+statements no one doubted. It was generally conceded, with a laugh, that
+Governor McDougall's private opinion differed from his sense of
+public duty.
+
+That afternoon representatives of the Committee met an incoming vessel
+and examined the credentials of all passengers. Several of these not
+proving up to standard, they were denied admittance to the port. The
+outraged captain blustered and refused to take them back to Sydney. But
+in the end he agreed. There was nothing else to do. A guard was placed
+on the non-desirables and maintained until the vessel cleared--until the
+pilot boat returned in fact. San Francisco applauded.
+
+But all the laurels were not with the Committee. On Thursday morning,
+August 21, Sheriff Hayes surprised Vigilante Headquarters at dawn and
+captured Samuel Whitaker and Robert McKenzie both convicted of murder by
+the Committee and sentenced to hang.
+
+The City Government was much elated but the victory was short. For, on
+the following Sunday, Vigilantes gained an entrance to the jail and took
+their prisoners back without a struggle.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Broderick and Windham, en route to the latter's ranch that afternoon,
+heard the Monumental bell toll slowly, solemnly. "What's up?" asked
+Broderick, startled.
+
+"It means," Benito answered, "that the Vigilance Committee still rules.
+Two more scoundrels have been punished."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI
+
+FEVERS OF FINANCE
+
+Four years had passed since the Vigilance Committee ceased active
+labors. Some said they preserved a tacit organization; theirs was still
+a name to conjure with among evil doers, but San Francisco, grown into a
+city of some 50,000, was more dignified and subtle in its wickedness.
+Politics continued notoriously bad. Comedians in the new Metropolitan
+Theatre made jokes about ballot-boxes said to have false bottoms, and
+public officials who had taken their degrees in "political economy" at
+Sing Sing.
+
+"Honest Harry" Meiggs and his brother, the newly-elected City
+Controller, had sailed away on the yacht "American," leaving behind them
+an unpaid-for 2000-foot wharf and close to a million in debts; forged
+city warrants and promissory notes were held by practically every large
+business house in San Francisco.
+
+It was concerning this urbane and gifted prince of swindlers that Adrian
+Stanley talked with William Sherman, manager of the banking house of
+Turner, Lucas & Company.
+
+Sherman, once a lieutenant in the United States Army, had returned,
+after an Eastern trip, as a civilian financier. In behalf of St. Louis
+employers, he had purchased of James Lick a lot at Jackson and
+Montgomery streets, erecting thereon a $50,000 fire-proof building. The
+bank occupied the lower floor; a number of professional men had their
+offices on the second floor; on the third James P. Casey, Supervisor,
+journalist and politician, maintained the offices of _The Sunday Times_.
+He passed the two men as they stood in front of the bank and shouted a
+boisterous "hello." Adrian, ever courteous and good-natured, responded
+with a wave of the hand while Sherman, brusk and curt, as a habit of
+nature and military training, vouchsafed him a short nod.
+
+"I have small use for that fellow," he remarked to Stanley, "even less
+than I had for Meiggs." The other had something impressive about him,
+something almost Napoleonic, in spite of his dishonesty. If business had
+maintained the upward trend of '51 and '52, Meiggs would have been a
+millionaire and people would have honored him--"
+
+"You never trusted 'Honest Harry,' did you?" Stanley asked.
+
+"No," said Sherman, "not for the amount he asked. I was the only banker
+here that didn't break his neck to give the fellow credit. I rather
+liked him, though. But this fellow upstairs," he snapped his fingers,
+"some day I shall order him out of my building."
+
+"Why?" asked Adrian curiously. "Because of his--"
+
+"His alleged prison record?" Sherman finished. "No. For many a good
+man's served his term." He shrugged. "I can't just tell you why I feel
+like that toward Jim Casey. He's no worse than the rest of his clan; the
+city government's rotten straight through except for a few honest judges
+and they're helpless before the quibbles and intricacies of law." He
+took the long black cigar from his mouth and regarded Adrian with his
+curious concentration--that force of purpose which was one day to list
+William Tecumseh Sherman among the world's great generals. "There's
+going to be the devil to pay, my young friend," he said, frowning,
+"between corruption, sectional feuds and business depression ..."
+
+"What about the report that Page, Bacon & Company's St. Louis house has
+failed?" said Stanley in an undertone. Sherman eyed him sharply.
+"Where'd you hear that?" he shot back. And then, ere Adrian could
+answer, he inquired, "Have you much on deposit there?"
+
+"Ten thousand," replied the young contractor.
+
+For a moment Sherman remained silent, twisting the long cigar about
+between grim lips. Then he put a hand abruptly on the other's shoulder.
+"Take it out," he said, "today."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Somewhat later Sherman was summoned to a conference with Henry Haight,
+manager of the banking house in question, and young Page of the
+Sacramento branch. He emerged with a clouded brow, puffing furiously at
+his cigar. As he passed through the bank, Sherman noted an unusual line
+of men, interspersed with an occasional woman, waiting their turn for
+the paying teller's service. The man was counting out gold and silver
+feverishly. There was whispering among the file of waiters. To him the
+thing had an ominous look.
+
+He stopped for a moment at the bank of Adams & Company. There also the
+number of people withdrawing deposits was unusual; the receiving
+teller's window was neglected. James King of William, who, since the
+closing of his own bank, had been Adams & Company's manager, came
+forward and drew Sherman aside. "What do you think of the prospect?" he
+asked. "Few of us can stand a run. We're perfectly solvent, but if this
+excitement spreads it means ruin for the house--for every bank in
+town perhaps."
+
+"Haight's drunk," said Sherman tersely. "Page is silly with fear. I went
+over to help them ... but it's no use. They're gone."
+
+King's bearded face was pale, but his eyes were steady. "I'm sorry," he
+said, "that makes it harder for us all." He smiled mirthlessly. "You're
+better off than we ... with our country branches. If anything goes wrong
+here, our agents will be blamed. There may be bloodshed even." He held
+out his hand and Sherman gripped it. "Good luck," the latter said,
+"we'll stand together, far as possible."
+
+As Sherman left the second counting house, he noted how the line had
+grown before the paying teller's window. It extended now outside the
+door. At Palmer, Cook & Company's and Naglee's banks it was the same.
+The human queue, which issued from the doors of Page, Bacon & Company,
+now reached around the corner. It was growing turbulent. Women tried to
+force themselves between the close-packed file and were repelled. One of
+these was Sherman's washwoman. She clutched his coat-tails as he
+hurried by.
+
+"My God, sir!" she wailed, "they've my money; the savings of years. And
+now they say it's gone ... that Haight's gambled ... spent it on
+women ..."
+
+Sherman tried to quiet her and was beset by others. "How's your bank?"
+people shouted at him. "How's Lucas-Turner?"
+
+"Sound as a dollar," he told them; "come and get your money when you
+please; it's there waiting for you."
+
+But his heart was heavy with foreboding as he entered his own bank. Here
+the line was somewhat shorter than at most of the others, but still
+sufficiently long to cause dismay. Sherman passed behind the counter and
+conferred with his assistant.
+
+"We close in half an hour--at three o'clock," he said. "That will give
+us a breathing spell. Tomorrow comes the test. By then the town will
+know of Page-Bacon's failure ..."
+
+He beckoned to the head accountant, who came hurriedly, a quill pen
+bobbing behind his ear, his tall figure bent from stooping over ledgers.
+
+"How much will we require to withstand a day's run?" Sherman flung the
+question at him like a thunderbolt. And almost as though the impact of
+some verbal missile had deprived him of speech, the man stopped,
+stammering.
+
+"I--I--I think, s-s-sir," he gulped and recovered himself with an
+effort, "f-forty thousand will do it."
+
+Swiftly Sherman turned toward the door. "Where are you going?" the
+assistant called.
+
+"To get forty thousand dollars--if I have to turn highwayman," Sherman
+flung over his shoulder.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII
+
+"GIVE US OUR SAVINGS!"
+
+As he left the bank Sherman cast over in his mind with desperate
+swiftness the list of men to whom he could go for financial support.
+Turner, Lucas & Co. had loaned Captain Folsom $25,000 on his two late
+ventures, the Metropolitan Theatre and the Tehama House. Both, under
+normal conditions, would have made their promoter rich. But nothing was
+at par these days.
+
+Sherman wondered uneasily whether Folsom could help. He was not a man to
+save money, and the banker, who made it his business to know what
+borrowers of the bank's money did, knew that Folsom liked gambling,
+frequented places where the stakes ran high. Of late he had met heavy
+losses. However, he was a big man, Sherman reasoned; he should have
+large resources. Both of them were former army officers. That should
+prove a bond between them. At Captain Folsom's house an old negro
+servant opened the door, his wrinkled black face anxious.
+
+"Mars Joe, he ain't right well dis evenin'," he said, evasively, but
+when Sherman persisted he was ushered into a back room where sat the
+redoubtable captain, all the fierceness of his burnside whiskers, the
+austerity of his West Point manner, melted in the indignity of sneezes
+and wheezes.
+
+Sherman looked at him in frank dismay.
+
+"Heavens, man," he said, "I'm sorry to intrude on you in this condition
+... but my errand won't wait...."
+
+"What do you want, Bill Sherman?" the sick man glowered.
+
+"Money," Sherman answered crisply. "You know, perhaps, that Page, Bacon
+& Co. have failed. Everyone's afraid of his deposits. We've got to have
+cash tomorrow. How about your--?"
+
+With a cry of irritation Folsom threw up his hands. "Money! God
+Almighty! Sherman, there's not a loose dollar in town. My agent, Van
+Winkle, has walked his legs off, talked himself hoarse.... He can't get
+anything. It's impossible."
+
+"Then you can do nothing?"
+
+For answer Folsom broke into a torrent of sneezes and coughs. The old
+negro came running. Sherman shook his head and left the room.
+
+There remained Major Hammond, collector of the port, two of whose notes
+the bank held.
+
+He and Sherman were not over-friendly; yet Hammond must be asked.
+Sherman made his way to the customs house briskly, stated his business
+to the doorkeeper and sat down in an anteroom to await Hammond's
+pleasure. There he cooled his heels for a considerable period before he
+was summoned to an inner office.
+
+"Well, Sherman," he asked, not ungraciously, "what can I do for you?"
+
+"You can take up one of your notes with our bank," replied Sherman,
+without ado. "We need cash desperately."
+
+"'Fraid of a run, eh?"
+
+"Not afraid, no. But preparing for it."
+
+The other nodded his approval. "Quite right! quite right!" he said with
+unexpected warmth.... "So you'd like me to cash one of my notes,
+Mr. Sherman?"
+
+"Why, yes, sir, if it wouldn't inconvenience you," the banker answered,
+"it would aid us greatly." He looked into the collector's keen,
+inquiring eyes, then added: "I may as well say quite frankly, Mr.
+Hammond, you're our last resort."
+
+"Then why"--the other's smile was whimsical--"then why not both of my
+notes?"
+
+[Illustration: There sat the redoubtable captain, all the ... austerity
+of his West Point manner melted in the indignity of sneezes and
+wheezes.... "Money! God Almighty! Sherman, there's not a loose dollar
+in town."]
+
+"Do you mean it?" Sherman asked breathlessly.
+
+By way of answer Hammond drew a book of printed forms toward him.
+Calmly, leisurely, he wrote several lines; tore a long, narrow strip
+from the book and handed it to Sherman.
+
+"Here's my check for $40,000 on the United States Treasurer. He will
+cash it in gold. Never mind, don't thank me, this is purely business. I
+know what's up, young man. I can't see your people go under. Good day!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ten o'clock on the following morning. Hundreds of people lined up before
+the doors of San Francisco banks. Men of all classes; top-hatted
+merchants rubbed elbows with red-shirted miners, Irish laborers smoking
+clay pipes, Mexican vaqueros, roustabouts from the docks, gamblers,
+bartenders, lawyers, doctors, politicians. Here and there one saw women
+with children in their arms or holding them by the hand. They pressed
+shoulder to shoulder. Those at the head had their noses almost against
+the glass. Inside of the counting houses men with pale, harried faces
+stood behind their grilled iron wickets, wondering how long the pile of
+silver and gold within their reach would stay that clamorous human tide.
+Doors swung back and it swept in, a great wave, almost overturning
+the janitors.
+
+The cashier and assistant manager of Lucas & Co. watched nervously, the
+former now and then running his fingers through his sparse hair; the
+assistant manager at intervals retired to a back room where he consulted
+a decanter and a tall glass. Frequently he summoned the bookkeeper.
+"How's the money lasting?" he would inquire almost in a whisper, and the
+other answered, "Still holding out."
+
+But now the assistant manager saw that the cash on hand was almost
+exhausted. He was afraid to ask the bookkeeper any more questions.
+
+"Where the devil's Sherman?" he snapped at the cashier. That official
+started. "Why--er--how should I know?... He was hunting Major Snyder
+this morning. He had a check from Hammond, the collector of the port."
+
+"Damnation!" cried the assistant manager. "Sherman ought to be here. He
+ought to talk to these people. They think he's skipped."
+
+He broke off hurriedly as the assistant teller came up trembling. "We'll
+have to close in ten minutes," he said. "There's less than $500 left."
+His mouth twitched. "I don't know what we'll do, sir, when the time
+comes ... and God only knows what they'll do."
+
+"Good God! what's that?"
+
+Some new commotion was apparent at the entrance of the bank. The
+assistant teller grasped his pistol. The line of waiting men and women
+turned, for the moment forgetting their quest. William Sherman, attended
+by two armed constables, entered the door. Between them the trio carried
+two large canvas bags, each bearing the imprint of the United
+States Treasury.
+
+Sherman halted just inside the door.
+
+"Forty thousand in gold, boys," he cried, "and plenty more where it came
+from. Turner, Lucas & Co. honors every draft."
+
+His face pressed eagerly against the lattice of the paying teller's cage
+stood a little Frenchman. His hat had fallen from his pomaded hair; his
+waxed moustache bristled.
+
+"Do you mean you have ze monnaie? All ze monnaie zat we wish?" he asked
+gesticulating excitedly with his hands.
+
+"Sure," returned the teller. Sherman and his aids were carrying the two
+sacks into the back of the cage, depositing them on a marble shelf.
+"See!" The teller turned one over and a tinkling flood of shining golden
+disks poured forth.
+
+"Ah, bon! bon!" shrieked the little Frenchman, dancing up and down upon
+his high-heeled boots. "If you have ze monnaie, zen I do not want heem."
+He broke out of the line, happily humming a chanson. Half a dozen
+people laughed.
+
+"That's what I say," shouted other voices. "We don't want our money if
+it's safe."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII
+
+KING STARTS THE BULLETIN
+
+After several months of business convalescence, San Francisco found
+itself recovered from the financial chaos of February. Many well-known
+men and institutions had not stood the ordeal; some went down the
+pathway of dishonor to an irretrievable inconsequence and destitution;
+others profited by their misfortunes and still others, with the
+dauntless spirit of the time, turned halted energies or aspirations to
+fresh account. Among them was James King of William.
+
+The name of his father, William King, was, by an odd necessity,
+perpetuated with his own. There were many James Kings and to avert
+confusion of identities the paternal cognomen was added.
+
+In the Bank Exchange saloon, where the city's powers in commerce,
+journalism and finance were wont to congregate, King met, on a rainy
+autumn afternoon, R.D. Sinton and Jim Nesbitt. They hailed him jovially.
+Seated in the corner of an anteroom they drank to one another's health
+and listened to the raindrops pattering against a window.
+
+"Well, how is the auction business, Bob?" asked King.
+
+"Not so bad," the junior partner of Selover and Sinton answered. "Better
+probably than the newspaper or banking line.... Here's poor Jim, the
+keenest paragrapher in San Francisco, out of work since the
+_Chronicle's_ gone to the wall. And here you are, cleaned out by Adams &
+Company's careless or dishonest work--I don't know which."
+
+"Let's not discuss it," King said broodingly. "You know they wouldn't
+let me supervise the distribution of the money. And you know what my
+demand for an accounting brought ..."
+
+"Abuse and slander from that boughten sheet, the Alta--yes," retorted
+Sinton. "Well, you have the consolation of knowing that no honest man
+believes it."
+
+King was silent for a moment. Then his clenched hand fell upon the
+table. "By the Eternal!" he exclaimed, with a sudden upthrust of the
+chin. "This town must have a decent paper. Do you know that there are
+seven murderers in our jail? No one will convict them and no editor has
+the courage to expose our rotten politics." He glanced quickly from one
+to the other. "Are you with me, boys? Will you help me to start a
+journal that will run our crooked officials and their hired plug-uglies
+out of town?... Sinton, last week you asked my advice about a good
+investment ... Nesbitt, you're looking for a berth. Well, here's an
+answer to you both. Let's start a paper--call it, say, the Evening
+Bulletin."
+
+Nesbitt's eyes glowed. "By the Lord Harry! it's an inspiration, King,"
+he said and beckoned to a waiter to refill their glasses. "I know enough
+about our State and city politics to make a lot of well-known citizens
+hunt cover--"
+
+Sinton smiled at the journalist's ardor. "D'ye mean it, James?" he
+asked. "Every word," replied the banker. "But I can't help much
+financially," he added. "My creditors got everything."
+
+"You mean the King's treasury is empty," said Sinton, laughing at his
+pun. "Well, well, we might make it go, boys. I'm not a millionaire, but
+never mind. How much would it take?"
+
+Nesbitt answered with swift eagerness. "I know a print shop we can buy
+for a song; it's on Merchant street near Montgomery. Small but
+comfortable, and just the thing. $500 down would start us."
+
+Sinton pulled at his chin a moment. "Go ahead then," he urged. "I'll
+loan you the money."
+
+King's hand shot out to grasp the auctioneer's. "There ought to be
+10,000 decent citizens in San Francisco who'll give us their support.
+Let's go and see the owner of that print-shop now."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the afternoon of October 5th, 1885, a tiny four-page paper made its
+first appearance on the streets of San Francisco.
+
+The first page, with its queer jumble of news and advertisements, had a
+novel and attractive appearance quite apart from the usual standards of
+typographical make-up. People laughed at King's naive editorial apology
+for entering an overcrowded and none-too-prosperous field; they nodded
+approvingly over his promise to tell the truth with fearless
+impartiality.
+
+William Coleman was among the first day's visitors.
+
+"Good luck to you, James King of William," he held forth a friendly
+hand. The editor, turning, rose and grasped it with sincere cordiality.
+They stood regarding each other silently. It seemed almost as though a
+prescience of what was to come lay in that curious communion of
+heart and mind.
+
+"Going after the crooks, I understand," said Coleman finally.
+
+"Big and little," King retorted. "That's all the paper's for. I don't
+expect to make money."
+
+"How about the Southerners, the Chivalry party? They'll challenge you to
+duels daily."
+
+"Damn the 'Chivs'." King answered. "I shall ignore their challenges.
+This duelling habit is absurd. It's grandstand politics; opera bouffe.
+They even advertise their meetings and the boatmen run excursions to
+some point where two idiots shoot wildly at each other for some fancied
+slight. No, Coleman, I'm not that particular kind of a fool."
+
+"Well, you'd better carry a derringer," the other warned. "There are
+Broderick's plug-uglies. They won't wait to send a challenge."
+
+King gave him an odd look. "I have feeling that one cannot change his
+destiny," he said. "If I am to be killed--then so be it ... Kismet, as
+the Orientals say. But meanwhile I'll fight corruption. I'll call men by
+name and shout their sins from the housetops. We'll wake up the town, or
+my name isn't James King of William.... Won't we, James?" He clapped a
+hand on Nesbitt's shoulder. The other turned half irritably. "What? Oh,
+yes. To be sure," he answered and resumed his writing. Charles
+Gerberding, who held the title of publisher in the new enterprise,
+looked up from his ledger. "If this keeps up," he said, smiling and
+rubbing his hands, "we can enlarge the paper in a month or so." He shut
+the volume with a slam and lighted a cigar.
+
+"Hello, Coleman, how are the Vigilants? I'm told you still preserve a
+tacit organization."
+
+"More of the spirit than substance," said Coleman smiling. "I hope we'll
+not need to revive it."
+
+"Not so sure," responded Gerberding. "This man here," the cigar was
+waved in King's direction, "this editor of ours is going to set the
+town afire."
+
+Coleman did not answer. He went out ... wondering whether Isaac Bluxome
+was in town. Bluxome had served as secretary for the Vigilance
+Committee of '51.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX
+
+RICHARDSON AND CORA
+
+Business went on with at least a surface calm of new stability. Politics
+brought forth occasional eruptions, mostly twixt the Abolitionists and
+Slavery parties. Each claimed California. Broderick more than ever held
+the reins of state and city government. But the latter proved a
+fractious steed. For all his dauntless vigor and political astuteness,
+Destiny as yet withheld from Broderick the coveted United States
+senatorship. At best he had achieved an impasse, a dog-in-the-manger
+victory. By preventing the election of a rival he had gained little and
+incurred much censure for depriving the State of national
+representation. Benito and Alice tried to rouse him from a fit of
+moodiness as he dined with them one evening in November. Lately he had
+made a frequent, always-welcome third at their evening meal.
+
+"Cheer up, Dave," Benito rallied, as he raised a glass of wine. "We'll
+be reading your speeches in the Washington reports before many years
+have gone by. Come," he said to his wife, "let's drink to the future of
+'The Gentleman from California.'"
+
+Broderick smiled; his glass clinked against those of his two companions.
+He gazed a moment musingly at both; then quaffed his liquor with a
+touch of haste.
+
+Alice Windham's eyes were troubled. "David," she was hesitant, yet
+earnest. "It is really necessary to associate with people such as--well,
+you know ... James Casey, Billy Mulligan, McGowan?"
+
+He answered her with a vehemence close to anger. "Politicians cannot
+choose their weapons. They must fight fire with fire ... or lose." For a
+moment the talk lagged. Then Benito, with his sprightly gossip, sent it
+rolling on. "Sherman has turned Jim Casey and his _Sunday Times_ out of
+the Turner-Lucas building ... for attacking the banks."
+
+"He threatened to, some time ago," said Broderick.... "How goes it with
+your law, Benito?"
+
+"Well enough," said Windham, as his wife rose. She left them to attend
+the child, which had awakened. Broderick stared after her, a brooding
+hunger in his eyes. Presently, he, too, arose, and despite Benito's
+urging, departed.
+
+It was dusk when he reached the Blue Wing saloon, where "Judge" McGowan
+awaited him. A burly, forceful man, with bushy eyebrows, a walrus
+moustache perpetually tobacco-stained, and an air of ruthless command.
+"Where've you been?" he asked, impatiently, but did not wait for an
+answer. "Casey's in trouble again."
+
+"What's the matter now?" asked Broderick with a swift, half anxious
+uplift of the chin.
+
+"Oh, not his fault exactly," said the other. "Five of Gwin's men
+attacked him. Tried to kill him probably. But Jim's a tough lad. He laid
+one out, took his pistol and shot another. The rest vamoosed. Jim's in
+jail ... for disturbing the peace," he added, chuckling grimly.
+
+"Well, Billy Mulligan will let him out," responded Broderick. "If not,
+see Scannell. Do you need bail?" He reached into his pocket and took out
+a roll of banknotes. "You'll attend to it, Ned?" he asked hurriedly.
+
+"Yes, yes," returned the tall man. "That's all right.... I wish it
+hadn't happened, though. We're none too strong ... with seven murderers
+in the jail.... They'll bring up Casey's prison record at the
+examination. See if they don't."
+
+Broderick turned away.
+
+At the bar he greeted "General" Billy Richardson, deputy United States
+Marshal. They had a drink together.
+
+"James King of William's crusading with The Bulletin," said Richardson,
+"he threatens to run all the crooks out of town. It's making a good
+deal of talk."
+
+"But King's not a newspaper man," retorted Broderick, puzzled. "He's a
+banker. How's he going to run a journal? That takes money--experience."
+
+"Quien sabe?" Richardson vouchsafed. "Sinton of Selover and Sinton's his
+financial backer. Jim Nesbitt helps with the writing. You know Nesbitt,
+don't you? Slings a wicked pen. But King writes his own editorials I'm
+told. He's got a big job on his hands--cleaning up San Francisco.... You
+ought to know, Dave Broderick," he laughed meaningly. "Here's to
+him, anyhow."
+
+"Don't know if I should drink to that or not," Broderick ruminated,
+smiling. "May get after me. I'll take a chance, though. King's straight.
+I can always get on with a straight man." He raised his glass.
+
+A friend of Richardson's came up. Broderick did not know him, but he
+recognized at his side the well-groomed figure of Charles Cora, gambler
+and dandy. "Wancha t'meet Charley," said the introducer, unsteadily, to
+Richardson. "Bes' li'l man ever lived." Richardson held out his hand a
+bit reluctantly. Cora's sort were somewhat declassé. "Have a drink?"
+he invited.
+
+Broderick left them together. Later he saw Richardson quit the gambler's
+presence abruptly. The other took a few steps after him, then fell back
+with a shrug. Broderick heard the deputy-marshal mutter: "Too damned
+fresh; positively insulting," but he thought little of it. Richardson
+was apt to grow choleric while drinking. He often fancied himself
+insulted, but usually forgot it quickly. So Broderick merely smiled.
+
+On the following day he chanced again upon Richardson, who, to
+Broderick's astonishment, still brooded over Cora's "impudent remark."
+He did not seem to know just what it was, but the offensive flavor of
+it lingered.
+
+"Wonder where he is?" he kept repeating. "Deserves to be thrashed.
+Confound his impertinence. May do it yet."
+
+He was drinking. Broderick glanced apprehensively about. The gambler's
+sleek form was not in evidence. McGowan came in with Casey and Mulligan.
+Casey, too, had been drinking. He was in an evil humor, his usually
+jovial face sullen and vengeful.
+
+"Damn the newspapers," he exploded. "They've printed the Sing Sing yarn
+on me again. It was brought out at the arraignment."
+
+"Confound it, Broderick, haven't you any influence at all? Can't you
+keep such stuff out of type?"
+
+"Sometimes--if I know about it in advance. I'm sorry, Jim."
+
+"They tell me King of William's going to print it in the _Bulletin_.
+Better see him."
+
+"No use," put in McGowan, "that fellow's so straight (he sneered the
+word) that he leans over backward. Somebody'll fix him though ... you'll
+see." The trio wandered off to Broderick's relief, making their exit
+just as Cora entered the door. The gambler approached Richardson. They
+had a drink together, some rather loud, conversation. Broderick feared
+it would develop into a quarrel, but evidently they patched a truce
+between them, for soon they went out arm in arm.
+
+His thought turned to Alice Windham. In a kind of reverie he left the
+Blue Wing, walking without sense of direction. It was getting dark; a
+chilling touch of fog was in the air--almost, it seemed to Broderick,
+like a premonition. On Clay, near Montgomery, he passed two men standing
+in a doorway; it was too dark to see their faces. Some impulse bade him
+stop, but he repressed it. Later he heard a shot, men running. But his
+mood was not for street brawls. He went on.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL
+
+THE STORM GATHERS
+
+It was Nesbitt who told Broderick of the murder. Nesbitt, of whom
+Richardson had said the night before, "he slings a wicked pen."
+
+"My God, Jim, this is awful!" Broderick exclaimed. "You're sure there's
+no mistake ... I saw the two of them go out arm in arm."
+
+"Mistake! I wish it were," cried Nesbitt angrily. "No, poor Billy
+Richardson is dead. Cora's in jail.... They say Cora laughed when he
+went to prison with Scannell.... Scannell and Mulligan!" He spat out the
+words with a savage distaste.
+
+"Let me show you something, Dave. A reporter from the New York _Express_
+was out here gathering data--crime statistics for the year. He showed it
+to me. Listen to this: Four hundred and eighty-nine murders in
+California during ten months. Six executions by sheriffs, forty-six
+hanged by mobs; that makes fifty-two in all."
+
+He tapped the paper with his lean forefinger. "Probably two hundred of
+these killings were local.... And in the entire history of this city
+there's been exactly one legal execution. That was in 1852."
+
+Broderick shook his head. "What are you going to do with that stuff?"
+asked Broderick.
+
+"Publish it in the _Bulletin_," returned Nesbitt decisively. "We're
+going to stir things up."
+
+They walked along together, Broderick's head bent in thought. Everywhere
+people were discussing the evening's tragedy. More than once "Judge
+Lynch's" name was mentioned threateningly.
+
+About the jail men swarmed, coming and going in an excited human tide.
+Some brandished fists at the unresponsive brick walls or called threats
+against Cora. As Broderick and Nesbitt passed the door, a handsome and
+richly clad woman emerged. Trickling tears had devastated the cosmetic
+smoothness of her cheeks. Her eyes looked frantic. But she proceeded
+calmly, almost haughtily to a waiting carriage. The driver whipped his
+horses and the equipage rolled on through a scattering crowd, some of
+whom shouted epithets after it.
+
+"That was Belle Cora, who keeps that bawdy house up town," Nesbitt
+volunteered.
+
+"Yes," said Broderick musingly, "she seemes to take it hard."
+
+"She's mad about the fellow," Nesbitt waved a parting salutation and
+walked toward the Bulletin office.
+
+Broderick turned homeward, thinking of the two dark figures he had
+passed on Clay street where the killing had taken place. Perchance if he
+had stopped as he was minded, the tragedy might have been averted.
+Nobody seemed to know just how it came about. The thing was most
+unfortunate politically. King would stir up a hornet's nest of public
+opinion. Broderick reached his lodgings and at once retired. His sleep
+was fitful. He dreamed that Alice Windham and Sheriff Scannell were
+fighting for his soul.
+
+In the morning he met Benito on the plaza and the two encountered
+Colonel E.D. Baker.
+
+"I hear you're Cora's counsel," said Benito with a touch of disapproval.
+
+Baker looked at the young man over his spectacles. He was a big
+impressive man whose appearance as well as his words swayed juries. He
+commanded large fees. It was to Broderick rather than Benito that he
+made reply.
+
+"That Belle woman--she calls herself Mrs. Cora--came to me last night.
+By the Lord, she melted my heart. She got down on her knees. How she
+loves that gambler!... Well, I promised to defend him, confound it." He
+passed on shaking his head.
+
+"Didn't mention what his fee was," Broderick spoke cynically.
+
+"I'm informed he tried to give it back to her this morning," said
+Benito. "But she wouldn't take it. Made a scene and held him to his
+honor." He laughed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Cora's trial dragged itself into the following January on the slow feet
+of countless technicalities. Every legal subterfuge was exhausted by the
+quartet of talented and high-priced attorneys provided by Belle Cora's
+questionable fortune but unquestioned affection. The trial proved a
+feast of oratory, a mass of contradictory evidence. Before it began a
+juror named Jacob Mayer accused L. Sokalasky with offering him a bribe.
+Sokalasky, brought into court, denied the charge. And there it ended,
+save that thenceforth the "twelve good men and true" were exiled even
+from their families by the order of Judge Hagar. None the less it seemed
+quite evident as a morning paper cynically remarked, that the stable had
+been locked after the horses were stolen.
+
+On January 17 the Cora jury announced its inability to agree. The trial
+ended minus a conviction.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ned McGowan, James P. Casey, Sheriff Scannell and his aid, Billy
+Mulligan, had frequent conferences in the offices of Casey's _Sunday
+Times_. Broderick held more or less aloof from his political
+subordinates these troublous days. But Charley Duane, former chief
+engineer of the fire department, was their frequent consort. The _Sunday
+Times_ concentrated its fire chiefly on James King of William. It was
+his biting, unstudied verbiage that struck "The Federal Brigade" on
+the raw.
+
+Early in May the _Times_ accused Thomas King, the _Bulletin_ editor's
+brother, of scheming by illegal means to gain the office that
+Richardson's death had left vacant.
+
+To this imputation, the _Bulletin_ made a sharp reply. Among other items
+calculated to enrage his foe appeared the following:
+
+     "The fact that Casey has been an inmate of Sing Sing prison
+     in New York is no offense against the laws of this State; nor
+     is the fact of his having stuffed himself through the ballot
+     box, as elected to the Board of Supervisors from a district
+     where it is said he was not even a candidate, any
+     justification why Mr. Bagley should shoot Casey, however
+     richly he may deserve having his neck stretched for such
+     fraud upon the people...."
+
+There was more, but this was all that Casey read. He tore the paper into
+shreds and stamped upon it, inarticulate with fury. When at last he
+found his tongue a flood of obscenities flowed. He drew a pistol from
+his pocket; brandishing the weapon, he reached for the door knob. But
+Doane, who had brought the paper, caught his arm.
+
+"Don't be a fool. Put that pistol away," he warned. "The public's
+crazy-mad about the Cora verdict. They won't stand for shooting King."
+
+"Listen," said McGowan, craftily, "go up there and protest like a
+gentleman. Try to make the ---- insult you in the presence of a
+witness.... Afterward--we'll see."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI
+
+THE FATEFUL ENCOUNTER
+
+James King of William sat with his back toward the door when Casey,
+still a-quiver with rage but endeavoring to control himself, entered the
+Bulletin office. He stumbled over the doorsill.
+
+King turned. When he saw who the intruder was, he laid down a handful of
+proofs and rose. Casey glared at him.
+
+"What do you mean," cried the politician, trying to speak calmly, "by
+publishing that article about me in the Bulletin?"
+
+King transfixed him with accusing eyes. "About the ballot-box stuffing
+... or your Sing Sing record, Casey?" he inquired.
+
+"You--you know well enough," blustered Casey. "It's an outrage to rake
+up a man's past.... A fellow's sensitive about such things."
+
+He shook a fist at King. "If necessary, I'll defend myself."
+
+"Very well," responded King. "That's your prerogative. You've a paper of
+your own.... And now get out of here," he added curtly. "Never show your
+face inside this door again."
+
+Later at the Bank Exchange McGowan found the supervisor cursing as he
+raised a glass of whiskey with a trembling hand.
+
+"Well, did you make him insult you?"
+
+"Damn him," was all Casey could answer. "Damn him. Damn him." He tossed
+the raw liquor down his throat and poured another drink. McGowan smiled.
+
+"You can do that till Doomsday and it won't hurt him." McGowan's voice
+rang with contempt. "Is that all you can do? Are you afraid--"
+
+Casey interrupted fiercely. "I'm NOT afraid. You know it. I'll get
+even."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Never mind. You'll see," the politician muttered darkly.
+
+"You're a drunken fool," remarked McGowan. "You've no chance with King.
+He's twice as big as you. He carries a derringer. And he shoots
+straight. Listen to me." He dragged the other to a corner of the room;
+they sat there for at least an hour arguing, drinking.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+James King of William watched Casey's exit from the Bulletin with a
+smile. He recalled his wife's warning that morning as he left his home,
+"Look out for Casey, James."
+
+"Pooh, Charlotte," he had reassured her. "I've far worse enemies than
+that prison rat."
+
+She had merely smiled, smoothed a wrinkle from his coat and kissed him,
+a worried look in her eyes. Then the children had gathered round him.
+Little Annie wanted a toy piano, Joe some crayons for his work
+at school.
+
+Remembering this, King seized a desk pad, wrote on it some words of
+memoranda. Then he straightway forgot Casey in the detail of work.
+
+When the Bulletin was off the press, the pad, with its written
+inscription, caught his eye and he shoved it into a side pocket.
+
+"Well, I'm going home," he said to Nesbitt. "Must buy a few things for
+the children."
+
+Nesbitt looked up half absently from his writing. "Afternoon," he
+greeted. "Better take your derringer. Don't know what might happen."
+
+King shrugged himself into the talma cape, which he usually wore on the
+streets. It is doubtful if he heard Nesbitt's warning. With a nod to
+Gerberding he sauntered slowly out, enjoying the mellow spring
+sunshine, filtering now and then through wisps of fog. As he turned into
+Montgomery street he almost collided with Benito Windham, who, brief
+case under arm, was striding rapidly southward. They exchanged a cordial
+greeting. Benito looked after the tall courtly figure crossing
+Montgomery street diagonally toward a big express wagon. Benito thought
+he could discern a quick nervous movement back of it. A man stepped out,
+directly across King's path.
+
+He was James P. Casey, tremendously excited. His right hand shook
+violently. His hat was on one side of his head; he was apparently
+intoxicated. King did not notice him until they were almost abreast.
+
+Casey's arm was outstretched, pointed at King's breast. "Draw and defend
+yourself," he said loudly. He shut his eyes and a little puff of smoke
+seemed to spring from the ends of his fingers, followed in the fraction
+of a second by a sharp report.
+
+Benito ran with all his might toward the men. He did not think that King
+was hit, for the editor turned toward the Pacific Express office. On the
+threshold he stumbled. A clerk ran out and caught the tall figure as it
+collapsed.
+
+Benito looked about for King's assailant. He saw a group of men on
+Washington street, but was unable to distinguish Casey among them,
+though McGowan's lanky form was visible.
+
+At Benito's feet lay a pocket-memorandum marked with a splash of red.
+The young man picked it up and read:
+
+"Piano for Annie.
+
+"Crayons for Joe.
+
+"Candy--"
+
+A man with a medicine case shouldered his way in. He was Dr. Hammond.
+"Get a basin," he ordered, "some warm water." He unbuttoned the wounded
+man's coat, looking grave as he saw the spreading red stain on
+his shirt.
+
+"Will he get well, doctor?" shouted a dozen voices.
+
+[Illustration: "Draw and defend yourself," he said loudly. He shut his
+eyes and a little puff of smoke seemed to spring from the end of his
+fingers, followed ... by a sharp report.]
+
+"Can't tell ... 'fraid not," Hammond answered, and a sympathetic
+silence followed his announcement.
+
+Someone cried: "Where's Casey?"
+
+Word came that Casey was in jail. "He gave himself up," a man said.
+
+Presently there was a sound of carriage wheels. A white-faced woman made
+her way to the express office. The crowd stood with bared heads as it
+opened a way for her passage. The woman was Mrs. King. They heard
+her sobbing.
+
+Gerberding and Nesbitt came and made their exit after a short stay.
+Tears ran down Nesbitt's cheeks. "I told him so," they heard him
+muttering, "I told him so.... He wouldn't listen.... Didn't take
+his pistol."
+
+Last of all came William Coleman, lips pressed tightly together, eyes
+hard. He remained only a few moments. Benito hailed him as he emerged
+from the express office.
+
+"Any chance of recovery?"
+
+"Very little." The tone was grim.
+
+"I hate to think of what may happen if he dies?" Windham commented.
+
+"Hell will break loose," Coleman stated with conviction. "Better come
+along, Benito. I'm going to find Ike Bluxome. It's time we prepared."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII
+
+THE COMMITTEE ORGANIZES
+
+When Benito rode up Montgomery street next morning he saw a litter being
+carried out of the Pacific Express Office. Beside it, were Mrs. King,
+Dr. Hammond and John Sime. They walked very slowly and the crowd fell
+back on either side as the litter-bearers progressed.
+
+Benito's heart stood still a moment. "Is he--?" the question formed
+reluctantly upon his lips. But David Broderick, standing by,
+reassured him.
+
+"No, not dead. Thank Heaven! They're taking him to more comfortable
+quarters. A room in the Montgomery Block. They've postponed the
+operation on the artery; as a last resort."
+
+"Dave," said Windham, seriously, "do you suppose you'll be blamed for
+this?"
+
+"Good God, man! No," returned the other. "Not even Gwin would dare to
+lay this at my door. There's no politics in it. At least none of mine."
+
+"Yet Casey was one of your men. They'll say that."
+
+"Let them," answered Broderick angrily. "I've no more to do with it than
+you--nor Coleman, who, they tell me, is forming another Vigilance
+Committee."
+
+"Yes," said Windham. "They're to meet at the old Know Nothing Hall on
+Sacramento street. I'm going there now."
+
+"Well I'm bound for a talk with Will Sherman; he's been appointed head
+of the militia. Just in time I should say. He'll be needed before order
+is restored."
+
+They shook hands. Benito looked after his friend uneasily. Broderick
+was on the wrong side, the young man thought; was taking an unwise tack.
+But no one could argue with Broderick ... unless it were Alice. They
+must have Dave to dinner again.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The street in front of Know Nothing Hall, a long two-story brick
+building was already crowded. One by one men were admitted--or rejected.
+Now and then a man would fall out of the line muttering wrathfully.
+
+"They're taking mighty good care not to let any of Scannell's friends
+get in," a man behind Benito confided. "The Sheriff's sent a dozen
+'plants' this morning but Bluxome weeds them out unfailingly."
+
+After a time Benito found himself at the wicket, gazing into Isaac
+Bluxome's shrewd eyes. He was passed immediately with a smile of welcome
+and found himself in a large room of the "lodge" variety. There was a
+desk behind which sat William Coleman and Charles Doane.
+
+About one hundred men moved about talking animatedly in groups and among
+these Benito noted many of his fellows of the '51 committee.
+
+Presently Coleman spoke.
+
+"Gentlemen, it has been decided to reorganize the Vigilance Committee.
+Mr. Bluxome and I have assumed the initiative, without any idea of
+placing ourselves at the head of the organization. Neither of us desire
+more than a chance to serve--in whatever capacity you may determine. We
+have prepared a form of oath, which I suggest shall be signed by each of
+us with his name and the number of his enrollment. Afterward he shall be
+known by that number only."
+
+He read the oath: "I do solemnly swear to act with the Vigilance
+Committee and second and sustain in full all their actions as expressed
+through the executive committee."
+
+"That's good!" "That's the ticket!" affirmed a score of voices. Coleman
+held up a quill pen invitingly, "Who'll be first to sign?"
+
+"You, Mr. Coleman," said Benito firmly, "you must be our chief."
+
+A cheer followed. Coleman demurred but in vain. They would have no one
+else. So, at last he put his name upon the paper, adding after it
+"No. 1."
+
+Others came up and affixed their signatures: C.J. Dempster, the Post
+brothers, Alfred Rix, P.G. Childs and so on. Bluxome, relieved from his
+post, was No. 33. It proved in after days a potent numeral for it
+represented the secretarial seal on documents which spelled doom to
+evildoers; hope, law and order to an outraged populace.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Meanwhile, McGowan, Scannell and his clan had not been idle. On the
+night of the shooting one hundred men proceeded to the Pacific street
+wharf where the Coliah and Seabird were anchored. From each of these, by
+force of arms, but with a promise of return, they took a ship's cannon
+which they dragged by means of two long ropes, uphill to the county
+stronghold.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On Thursday morning Mayor Van Ness stalked into Turner, Lucas &
+Company's bank and button-holed the manager. This was William T.
+Sherman, late of the United States army.
+
+"Sherman," said Van Ness excitedly, "is it true that you've been
+appointed major-general in charge of the second division of the
+California Militia?"
+
+"It is," retorted Sherman. His calm demeanor as he answered, without
+even looking up from the stock sheets which engrossed him, contrasted
+sharply with the fuming unrest of Van Ness. The latter now seized
+Sherman's sleeve.
+
+"Lay those down and come with me," he urged. "We need you instantly.
+Armed mobs are organizing to destroy the jail and seize the city
+government. It's your duty, sir, your manifest duty--"
+
+"All right, mayor," Sherman said, "I'll go along." He called a clerk
+and gave some orders. Then he slipped the stock sheets into a drawer and
+took his hat from a peg.
+
+They strode along together, Van Ness gesturing and talking; Sherman's
+head slightly bent as if in thought. Now and then he asked a
+curt question.
+
+The crowd about the jail had dwindled to a few curiosity seekers. The
+center of public interest had shifted to Know Nothing Hall where
+Vigilantes were still enrolling.
+
+Sherman and Van Ness found Sheriff Scannell, Ned McGowan, Billy Mulligan
+and the prisoner Casey in vehement consultation. They welcomed the
+soldier and mayor with manifest relief.
+
+"I'm glad you came," said Mulligan, "things look bad. There'll be Hell
+poppin'--if that d---- fool dies."
+
+"If you are referring to Mr. King, speak of him with respect." Sherman's
+tone was like a whiplash. The soldier turned to Scannell. "How many men
+have you? Men on whom you can depend in a crisis?"
+
+Scannell hesitated. "A hundred maybe ... but," he looked at Sherman
+hopefully, "there's your militia. Some of them served last night."
+
+"They've refused further service," said Van Ness. "I'm told that most of
+them have gone over to the Vigilantes ... and taken their arms along."
+
+Sherman stroked his chin. "This place is not impregnable by any means,"
+he remarked. "The first thing we must do is to secure the buildings on
+each side."
+
+"Too late," groaned Scannell. "I tried to find lodgings for some of my
+guards at Mrs. Hutchinson's boarding house. She slammed the door in my
+face. I tried the other side and found that Coleman and Bluxome had an
+option on it. They've already sent men to guard both places."
+
+"Then," Sherman told them, "you cannot defend this jail against a well
+planned attack. Perhaps they'll not resort to force," he added
+hopefully. "The Governor's coming down to talk with Coleman."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII
+
+GOVERNOR JOHNSON MEDIATES
+
+On the second day after the shooting, Governor J. Neely Johnson arrived
+on the evening boat. Mayor Van Ness had sent him a panicky message,
+imploring him to drop all else and hasten to San Francisco. The Mayor
+and William K. Garrison met him at the dock. They almost pushed the
+Governor into a carriage which was driven hastily to the
+International Hotel.
+
+In his room, behind closed doors, the Governor spoke a trifle irritably:
+"What the devil's all this row about, Van Ness? The town seems quiet
+enough. You spoke of civil war."
+
+"Coleman's organized another Vigilance Committee," Garrison took it upon
+himself to answer. "You know how impulsive San Franciscans are. They're
+in for anything. Two thousand have already joined. They've bought all
+the arms in town except a few that Sheriff Scannell seized in the
+militia armories. Scannell's sent out a hurry call for deputies--"
+
+"But," broke in the Governor, incredulously, "you say Coleman's doing
+this. I can't believe it. Coleman's a good man, a quiet fellow. He's my
+friend. I'll go to him at once."
+
+He rose, but Garrison, the politic, raised his hand. "Let him come to
+you. Summon him. The effect is much better."
+
+"As you say," acceded Johnson with a smile. "Send for Coleman, with my
+compliments." He resumed his seat and picked up an Evening Bulletin,
+shaking his head. "Poor King, I hear he's dying."
+
+"A dangerous man," remarked Garrison as he left the room.
+
+"He is a lot less dangerous alive--than dead," the Mayor shivered. "As a
+reformer he'd soon have ceased to interest the public. Nobody interests
+them long. But as a martyr!" he threw up his hands. "God help San
+Francisco!"
+
+They discussed the dangers of a public outbreak till a knock at the door
+interrupted them.
+
+It proved to be Garrison, accompanied by the Vigilante chief. "Hello,
+Coleman," the Governor greeted, cordially. The two shook hands. "What's
+this I hear about your Vigilante recrudescence?" He smote his hands
+together with a catechising manner. "What do you people want?"
+
+"We want peace," responded Coleman.
+
+"And, to get it, you prepare for war. What do you expect to accomplish?"
+
+"What the Vigilantes did in '51--"
+
+Briefly and concisely he outlined the frightful condition of affairs in
+San Francisco; the straining of public patience to its present
+breaking point.
+
+"Now, Governor," he said, impressively, "you've been called on by the
+Mayor and a certain class to bring out the militia and put down this
+movement. I assure you it cannot be done. It's not the way to treat the
+question...."
+
+"What is the way, then?" Johnson asked, aggressively.
+
+"Allow us to clean our Augean stables without more than a formal
+opposition from the State. Issue your necessary proclamations to
+maintain the dignity of the law. But don't interfere with our work. We
+shall get through with it quickly--and be glad to quit, I promise you."
+
+He rose and Johnson with him. Suddenly the Governor slapped the
+Vigilante chief a rousing whack upon the shoulder. "Go ahead, old boy!
+But hurry up. There is terrible opposition. Terrific pressure."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Turn Verein Hall that evening was a busy place. A dozen companies were
+drilling on the big gymnasium floor. Men who had never shouldered guns
+were executing orders with an ardor and a concentration which concealed
+much awkwardness of unfamiliarity.
+
+The garb and condition of recruits were vividly diversified. Doctor,
+teamster, lawyer, stevedore and banker, they were actuated by a common
+spirit, working through the manual of arms together, conscious of
+no caste.
+
+Benito and Adrian, who had come in late, surveyed the drilling. Warren
+Olney, big and forceful, gave them cordial welcome. "You're both in my
+company," he informed them. "We've graded all the signers of the roll
+according to their numbers. That is, the first hundred signers make the
+first company, the second hundred another. And so on."
+
+"How about cavalry and artillery?" Benito questioned.
+
+"Oh, we'll have both, don't worry," Charles Doane answered them. "Two
+vessels in the harbor have contributed cannon; we'll mount them on the
+foreparts of wagons. That's where Olney and his men will come in. And
+we've splendid riders, though the troops are still to be rounded into
+shape." He passed on hurriedly to execute some commission. "There's a
+splendid fellow," Olney said. "He's to be grand marshal of our forces."
+He took Benito and Adrian by the arm and led them toward a group of
+waiting men. "We must get our battery organized."
+
+A messenger strode hastily across the room seeking Coleman, who
+conferred with Doane in a distant corner. "The Governor's outside," he
+whispered as he passed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Coleman, entering the ante-room in answer to a summons, found Governor
+Johnson; his brother; W. K. Garrison and William Sherman, head of the
+somewhat depleted militia. A subtle change was noticeable in Johnson's
+manner. He spoke with brusque official authority, as if no previous
+interview had taken place:
+
+"Mr. Coleman, what are you and your committee plotting? Can't this
+trouble be adjusted here and now?"
+
+Coleman accepted the situation. He saw that opposition forces had been
+active.
+
+"We are tired of outlawry and assassination, Governor," he answered.
+"We've determined to endure them no longer. Street shooting's got
+to stop!"
+
+"I agree with you," the Governor admitted. "I've come down from
+Sacramento to aid. But this is a matter for the courts, and not for you
+to adjust. Our judges are honest. You can't impugn a man like Norton."
+He lowered his voice. "I'll see that Norton tries the case; that a grand
+jury indicts Casey. I'll do everything I can to force a trial, a
+conviction--and a speedy execution.... I've no right to make such
+promises. But I'll do it--to save this city the disgrace of a mob."
+
+Coleman raised his head. "This is no mob. You know it, Governor," he
+answered. "We've no faith in Sheriff Scannell nor his juries." He turned
+to Sherman. "This committee is a deliberative body, sir; regularly
+organized with officers and men, an executive council. The best men in
+the city are its members...."
+
+"And you are its Czar," remarked Garrison, tauntingly.
+
+"I am chairman by their choice--not mine," said Coleman, tartly. "To
+show you that I make no personal decisions, I will call other members of
+the council." He bowed and withdrew, returning in a few moments with the
+brothers Arrington, Thomas Smiley, Seymour and Truitt. The two sides
+went over the ground a second time. Smiley insisted that Casey be
+delivered to the Vigilantes. Johnson suggested that the committee
+continue its labors, but permit the court to try Casey, even in the
+event of King's death. An impasse loomed. Finally came Coleman's
+ultimatum: "If Sheriff Scannell will permit ten of our members to join
+the guard over Casey, this committee will agree to make no overt
+move--until our guards are withdrawn and you are notified."
+
+"Done," agreed the Governor, hastily.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV
+
+THE TRUCE IS BROKEN
+
+On the Garvez ranch, at sunset, the 17th of May, David Broderick found a
+gracious interval of peace. It seemed almost incredible to be dining in
+the patio with Benito and Alice against a background of fragrant
+honeysuckle and early roses. The long sloping mesas were bright with
+golden poppies; fleecy white clouds bedecked the azure of a western sky,
+flushing now with carmine tints. Cowbells tinkled musically faint with
+distance and from the vaquero quarters came a herder's song, a woman's
+laughter, the tinkle of a guitar.
+
+"What are you dreaming of, my friend?" asked Alice Windham, gently.
+
+"It is very like a dream," he smiled at her, "this place of yours. So
+near the city. Yet so far removed in its enchantment....
+
+"Down there," he pointed toward the town, where lights were springing up
+out of the dusk, "a man lies dying ... and a mob plots vengeance."
+
+"Oh, come," Benito voiced a protest, "we're not a mob, Dave. You know
+that." He laid a hand upon the other's arm. "I understand how hard it's
+been for you.... You're suffering for the sins of underlings unfit to
+lace your boots."
+
+"Against whom you warned me not long since," said Broderick to Alice.
+
+"Casey, Mulligan. Yes, I remember ... you resented it a little, didn't
+you?"
+
+"No," he said, his eyes upon her with that eager look, repressed and
+yearning, which she could not always meet. "No, dear lady; it was not
+resentment.... But it hurt."
+
+Alice turned from him to her husband. "Tell me what they've done today,
+Benito."
+
+Windham's eyes shone. "You should see Will Coleman. Ah, he's a leader
+incomparable. We've got nearly 6,000 men. Infantry, artillery, cavalry.
+A police force, too, for patrolling the streets day and night."
+
+"And what is the other side doing?" Alice asked.
+
+"They've got the Governor wobbling," said Benito. "Sooner or later he'll
+call out the militia...."
+
+"But they've got no ammunition, no guns, I understand," responded
+Broderick. "Sherman tried to commandeer those flintlock muskets from the
+Mexican war--several thousand of them--but Coleman got them first."
+
+"Yes," affirmed Benito. "The Sheriff's seized some scattered arms. But
+that is not what Coleman fears. It's Federal interference. They're
+trying to get General Wool to give them rifles from the arsenal at
+Benicia, perhaps a gunboat from the navy yard."
+
+"That means--civil warfare," Broderick said, aghast.
+
+Alice Windham rose and the two men with her. She took an arm of each.
+"Come," she pleaded, "let us put it all away--this turmoil of men's
+hatred ... let us walk here in the sweet-scented evening and forget."
+
+"I wish we might," said Broderick quickly. "What will happen in the next
+few days may never be forgotten."
+
+Swiftly, Alice turned to him; looked up into his face. "Do you think,"
+she asked, so low that he could scarcely catch the words, "do you think,
+Dave, that you're safe?"
+
+Broderick caught his breath. Involuntarily his eyes strayed toward
+Benito. But the latter was so patently absorbed in sunset splendors that
+Broderick sighed as if relieved. It seemed as though some holy thing had
+passed between him and this woman. In her look, her simple question lay
+a shadowy, half-spoken answer to his heart's unuttered prayer. For a
+moment the world seemed aglow with some strange, quiet glory. Then he
+said, quite calmly: "I? Oh, yes, I'm safe enough."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Saturday passed without much change in King's condition. He was sinking
+slowly, despite his rugged strength, his will to live and the unceasing
+efforts of the city's best physicians.
+
+The Law and Order Party was being organized out of various elements that
+viewed alarmedly the Vigilantes' growing power. Religious, political,
+social elements combined in this new faction. In it were men of note,
+distinction, undisputed honor; and rascals of the worst degree.
+
+Ned McGowan, it was rumored, had gone into hiding. Broderick kept to
+himself and took no sides, yet. Many sought him for support and for
+advice, but he repulsed them tactfully, remaining in his room to read;
+walking silently about at twilight. He had a way of standing on a
+hilltop, losing count of minutes, even hours. Thus Adrian surprised him
+one evening gazing down on San Francisco's winking street lamps as the
+night came down.
+
+"Hello, Dave," he said, "why so pensive?"
+
+Quietly as he spoke the other started. "I was wondering about
+tomorrow...."
+
+"Why tomorrow?"
+
+Broderick looked around to satisfy himself that there was no one else to
+hear. "Coleman will withdraw his Vigilante guard from the jail on Sunday
+morning.... Oh, yes," he added, as the other seemed surprised, "I have
+my agents in the Committee's camp. Not to harm them. I don't hold with
+spies and treachery.... But I have to keep informed."
+
+Adrian looked at his friend, astonished. This was news to him.
+Broderick went on: "The Governor's indirectly forced their hand. Coleman
+knows that violent forces are at work to overthrow his Vigilantes; that
+the Governor's aiding them. So he's decided to strike."
+
+"Tomorrow, eh!" said Adrian thoughtfully. "That means bloodshed,
+probably."
+
+Broderick turned a gloomy countenance toward him. "I don't know," he
+answered, and resumed his gazing. Adrian went on. He looked back after
+he had gone a hundred yards. The other man remained there, immobile and
+silent as a statue.
+
+Governor J. Neely Johnson paced up and down the confines of his suite at
+the International Hotel. In a chair sprawled Mayor Van Ness, his fingers
+opening and shutting spasmodically upon the leather upholstery. Volney
+Howard leaned in a swaggering posture against the mantelpiece, smoking a
+big cigar and turning at intervals to expectorate out of one corner of
+his mouth.
+
+"Well," said Howard, "the President's turned us down. We get no Federal
+aid, I understand. What next?"
+
+Johnson stopped his pacing. "I fancy Coleman will have to answer that
+question. Our cue is to wait."
+
+"'He also serves who stands and waits'," quoted Howard sardonically.
+
+There came a knock at the door. Van Ness, arising quickly, answered it.
+A uniformed page stood on the threshold bearing a silver platter on
+which reposed two letters. Something about the incident again aroused
+Howard's sense of humor. "Like a play," he muttered. "'My Lord, the
+carriage waits.'"
+
+With an exclamation of annoyance the Governor stepped forward, took the
+two envelopes, displacing them with a bit of silver, and dismissed the
+boy. He opened both missives before examining either. Then he stood for
+a moment, a rectangle of paper in either hand, frowning.
+
+Van Ness, peering over the Governor's shoulder, read:
+
+We have given up hope for Mr. King's recovery. His death is a matter of
+days, perhaps hours.
+
+     DR. HAMMOND.
+
+     We beg to inform your Excellency that the Vigilance
+     Committee's guard at the county jail has been withdrawn.
+
+     33, SECRETARY.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV
+
+THE COMMITTEE STRIKES
+
+On Sunday morning, May 18th, all of San Francisco was astir at dawn.
+There was none of the usual late breakfasting, the leisurely perusal of
+a morning paper.
+
+In some mysterious fashion word had gone abroad that history would be
+made this morning. The odd and feverish expectancy which rides, an
+unseen herald in the van of large events, was everywhere.
+
+A part of this undue activity resulted from the summoning of male
+members out of nearly three thousand households for military duty to
+begin at 9 o'clock. Long before that hour the general headquarters of
+the Vigilantes swarmed with members.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As a neighboring clock struck noon, the Vigilantes debouched into the
+street, an advance guard of riders clearing that thoroughfare of
+crowding spectators. First came Captain James N. Olney commanding the
+Citizens' Guard of sixty picked men, so soldierly in appearance that
+their coming evoked a cheer.
+
+Company 11, officered by Captain Donnelly and Lieutenant Frank Eastman
+came next, and after them a company of French citizens, very straight
+and gallant in appearance; then a German company. Followed at precise
+and military intervals a score or more of companies, with their gleaming
+bayonets, each standing at attention until the entire host had been
+assembled. Now and then some bystander cried a greeting. On the roofs
+were now a fringe of colored parasols, a fluttering of handkerchiefs.
+One might have deemed it a parade save for a certain grimness, the
+absence of bands. There was a hush as Marshal Doane rode all along the
+line and paused at the head to review his troops. One could hear him
+clearly as he raised his sabre and commanded, "Forward, march!" At the
+sidelines the lieutenants chanted:
+
+"Hup! Hup! Hup-hup-hup!"
+
+Legs began to move in an impressive clock-work unison. Gradually the
+thousands of bayonets took motion, seemed to flow along like some
+strange stream of scintillating lights.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the roof of the International Hotel the Governor, the Mayor,
+Major-General Sherman of the State Militia, Volney Howard and a little
+group of others watched the Vigilantes as they marched up Sacramento
+street. The Governor seemed calm enough; only the spasmodic puffs from
+his cigar betrayed agitation. Van Ness walked back and forth, cramming
+his hands into his breeches pockets and withdrawing them every ten
+seconds. Volney looked down with his usual sardonic smile but his eyes
+were bitter with hate. Sherman alone displayed the placidity of
+a soldier.
+
+"Look at the damned rabble!" exclaimed Howard. "They're dividing. Some
+are going up Pacific street to Kearney, some to Dupont and ... yes, a
+part of them on Stockton."
+
+"It's what you call an enfilading movement," said Sherman quietly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the county jail were Sheriff Scannell, Harrison his deputy, Marshal
+North, Billy Mulligan the jailor, and a small guard. Some of these
+watched proceedings from the roof, now and then descending to report to
+Scannell. Cora, in his cell, played solitaire and Casey made pretense of
+reading a book.
+
+Presently Scannell entered the room where Casey sat; it was not a cell
+nor had the door been locked since the withdrawal of the Vigilante
+guard. Casey looked up quickly. "What's the latest news from King?"
+
+"He's dying, so they say," retorted Scannell.
+
+"Dave," it was almost a whisper. "You've been to Broderick? Curse him,
+won't he turn his hand to help a friend?"
+
+"Easy, Billy," said the Sheriff. "Broderick's never been your friend;
+you know that well enough. Your boss, perhaps. But even so, he couldn't
+help you. No one can.... This town's gone mad."
+
+"What d'ye mean?" asked Casey in a frightened whisper.
+
+"Billy," spoke the Sheriff, "have a drink." He poured a liberal potion
+from a bottle standing on the table. Casey drained the glass, his eyes
+never leaving Scannell's. "Now," resumed the Sheriff, "listen, boy, and
+take it cool. THEY'RE COMING FOR YOU!"
+
+At first Casey made no reply. One might have thought he had not heard,
+save for the widening of his eyes.
+
+"You--you'll not let them take me, Dave?" he said, after a silence.
+"You'll fight?"
+
+Scannell's hand fell on the other's shoulder. "I've only thirty men;
+they're a hundred to one. They've a cannon."
+
+They looked at one another. Casey closed his fists and straightened
+slightly. "Give me a case-knife, Dave," he pleaded. "I'll not let them
+take me. I'll--"
+
+Silently, Scannell drew from his boot a knife in a leather sheath. Casey
+grasped it, feverishly, concealing it beneath his vest. "How soon?" he
+asked, "how soon?"
+
+Scannell strode to the window. "They're outside now," he informed the
+shrinking Casey. "The executive committee's in front ... the Citizens'
+Guard is forming a hollow square around them.... Miers Truett's coming
+to the door."
+
+Casey drew the knife; raised it dramatically. "I'll not let them take
+me," he shouted, as if to bolster up courage by the sound of his own
+voice. "I'll never leave this place alive."
+
+Sheriff Scannell, summoned by a deputy, looked over his shoulder. "Oh,
+yes, you will," he muttered. In his tone were pity and disdain.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Early Tuesday afternoon Benito and Broderick met in front of the
+Montgomery Block. The former had just been released from duty at
+Committee Headquarters, where a guard of 300 men was, night and day,
+maintained.
+
+"Casey has spent most of his time writing since we captured him," Benito
+told his friend. "He recovered his nerve when he found we'd no intention
+of hanging him without a trial. Of course, if King should live, he'll
+get off lightly. And then, there's Cora--"
+
+"Yes, he'll be a problem, if the other one's released," said Broderick.
+"Unless King dies this whole eruption of the Vigilantes will fall flat."
+
+Benito nodded, half reluctantly. "It seems--like destiny," he muttered.
+Suddenly his head jerked upward. "What is that?"
+
+A man came running out of the Montgomery Block. He seemed excited. His
+accelerated pace continued as he sped down Sacramento street. Presently
+another made his exit; ran like mad, uphill, toward the jail.
+
+Dr. Hammond, looking very grim, came hurriedly out of the door and
+entered a closed carriage. It drove off instantly. Then everything went
+on as usual. The two men stood there, watchful, expectant. The town
+seemed unusually still. A flag on a two-story building flapped
+monotonously. Then a man across the street ran out of his store and
+pointed upward. A rope was thrown from an upper window of the Montgomery
+Block. Someone picked it up and carried it to The Bulletin Building,
+pulled it taut. On a strip of linen had been hastily inscribed the
+following announcement, stretched across the street:
+
+"THE GREAT AND GOOD IS DEAD. WHO WILL NOT MOURN?"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVI
+
+RETRIBUTION
+
+Cora's trial was in progress. In the upper front room of Vigilante
+headquarters sat the tribunal upon whose decision Cora's fate would
+rest. They were grouped about a long table, twenty-nine men, the
+executive committee. At their head sat William Coleman, grim and stern,
+despite his clear complexion and his youthful, beardless mien. Near him,
+Isaac Bluxome, keen-eyed, shrewd, efficient, made notes of the
+proceedings.
+
+Cora, affecting an air of nonchalance, and, as ever, immaculate in
+dress, sat between his counsel, Miers F. Truett and Thomas J.L. Smiley,
+while John P. Manrow acted as the prosecutor.
+
+The gambler's eyes were fixed upon the trio when he was not searching
+the faces of those other silent men about the board. They were dressed
+in black. There was about them an air of impassivity almost removed from
+human emotion, and Cora could not but contrast them with the noisy,
+chewing, spitting, red-shirted jury at his previous trial, where Belle
+Cora's thousands had proved efficacious in securing disagreement. There
+would be no disagreement here. Instinctively, Cora knew that.
+
+Marshal Doane entered. He held in his hand a folded paper. Coleman and
+the others looked at him expectantly. "It is my great misfortune to
+report that James King of William is dead," said Doane. There was a buzz
+of comment, almost instantly stilled by Coleman's gavel. "Damn!" said
+the gambler under his breath.
+
+"Gentlemen, we will proceed with the trial," Coleman spoke. The
+examination of witnesses went on. But there was a difference. Cora
+noticed it. Sometimes, with an involuntary, shuddering gesture, he
+touched the skin above his flowing collar.
+
+Casey, when informed of King's death, trembled. "Your trial begins
+tomorrow," Doane informed him. "They'll finish with Cora tonight."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Thursday morning carpenters were seen at work on the Vigilante building.
+A stout beam was projected from the roof over two of the upper windows
+facing Sacramento street; to these pulleys were attached.
+
+Platforms were extended from the window sills. They were about three
+feet long and were seen to be hinged at the sills. The ends were held up
+by ropes fastened to the beams overhead.
+
+Stouter ropes next appeared, one end passing through the pulleys
+overhead, then they were caught up in nooses. The other ends were in the
+committee rooms.
+
+Men tested the platforms by standing on them; tried the nooses; found
+them strong. Then the carpenters retired. The windows were closed.
+
+A crowd below looked up expectantly, but nothing happened until noon,
+when military companies formed lines along Sacramento, Front and Davis
+streets. Cannon were placed to command all possible approaches. The
+great alarm bell of the Vigilantes sounded.
+
+By this time every roof near by was thronged with people. A cry went up
+as the windows of Vigilante headquarters were opened. At each stood a
+man, his arms pinioned. He advanced to the edge of the platform.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Bells were tolling. Black bunting was festooned from hundreds of doors
+and windows. All the flags of the city were at half-mast, even those of
+ships in the Bay.
+
+From the Unitarian Church on Stockton street, between Clay and
+Sacramento, came the funeral cortege on its way to the burial ground at
+Lone Mountain. Everywhere along the route people stood with bared heads.
+
+Little Joe King, a son of the murdered editor, 10 years of age, sat
+stiff and stunned by the strangeness of it all in a carriage beside Mrs.
+John Sime. Mr. and Mrs. Sime were great friends of his father and
+mother, and Mrs. Sime, whom he sometimes called "Auntie," had taken him
+into her carriage, since that of the widow was filled.
+
+Little Joe did not know what to make of it all. He knew, somehow,
+vaguely, that his father had been put into a long box that had silver
+handles and was covered with flowers. He knew of that mystery called
+death, but he had not visualized it closely heretofore. The thing
+overwhelmed him. Just now he could only realize that his father was
+being honored as no one had ever before been honored in San Francisco.
+That was something he could take hold of.
+
+As the carriage approached Sacramento street the crowd thickened. He
+heard a high-pitched voice that seemed almost to be screaming. He made
+out phrases faintly:
+
+"... God!... My poor mother!... Let nobody call ... murderer ... God
+save me ... only 29 ..."
+
+Swiftly the screaming stopped. A strange silence fell on the crowd. They
+turned their heads and looked down Sacramento street. Little Joe could
+stand the curiosity no longer. He craned his neck to see. Far down the
+street soldiers were standing before a building. Everybody watched them
+open-mouthed. In front of the building on a high platform two men stood
+as if they were making speeches. But they did not move their arms, and
+their heads looked very queer ... as if they had bags over them.
+
+Then, unexpectedly, Mrs. Sime forced him back. She pulled the curtain on
+the left side of the carriage. Little Joe heard a half-suppressed roar
+go up from the throng. For an instant the carriage halted. He was
+grievously disappointed not to witness the thing which held the public
+eye. Then the carriage went on.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Later, another funeral wended its way through the streets. It was at
+night and ill attended. A handsome woman followed it with streaming
+eyes; a woman who lived by an evil trade, and the inmates of whose house
+were given over to sin. Early that morning she had married a murderer.
+Now she was a widow with a broken heart--she whom many stigmatized as
+heartless.
+
+For many years she was to visit and to weep over the grave of a little
+dark man who had touched her affections; who might, under happier
+conditions, have awakened her soul. She was Mrs. Charles Cora, born
+Arabella Ryan, and widely known as "Belle," the mistress of a
+bawdy house.
+
+A few members of Casey's fire engine company paid him final honors.
+Shrived, before his execution, he was laid in holy ground, a stone
+erected over his grave.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The city returned more or less to its normal activities. But the
+Vigilante Committee remained in active session. It had avenged the
+deaths of Richardson and King, but it had other work to do.
+
+About this time, Yankee Sullivan, prize-fighter, ballot-box stuffer and
+political plug-ugly, killed himself in Vigilante quarters, evidently mad
+with fear.
+
+Ned McGowan, made of different stuff, arch plotter, thought by many to
+be the instigator of King's murder, went into hiding.
+
+[Illustration: In front of the building on a high platform, two men
+stood.... A half suppressed roar went up from the throng.]
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVII
+
+HINTS OF CIVIL WAR
+
+After the hanging a temporary reaction took place--a let-down from the
+hectic, fevered agitations of preceding days. Members of the Law and
+Order Party were secretly relieved by the removal of Casey and Cora.
+
+"Now that they've shot their bolt, we'll have peace," said Hall
+McAllister to Broderick. But the latter shook his head. "They've only
+started, Mac," he answered, "don't deceive yourself. These Vigilantes
+are business men; they've a business-like organization. Citizens are
+still enlisting ... seven thousand now, I understand."
+
+"Damn them!" said the lawyer, broodingly, "what d'ye think they'll be up
+to next?"
+
+"Don't damn them too much." Broderick's smile held a grim sort of humor.
+"They're going to break up a political organization it's taken me years
+to perfect. That ought to please you a little."
+
+McAllister laughed. The two men shook hands and parted. They were
+political enemies--McAllister of the Southern or "Chivalry" clan, which
+yearned to make a slave State out of California; Broderick an
+uncompromising Northerner and Abolitionist. Yet they respected one
+another, and a queer, almost secret friendship existed between them.
+Farther down the street Broderick met Benito. "I've just been talking
+with your boss," he said.
+
+"No longer," Windham informed him. "McAllister didn't like my Vigilante
+leanings. So we parted amiably enough. I'll study law on my own hook
+from now on. I've had a bit of good luck."
+
+"Ah," said the other. "Glad to hear it. An inheritance?"
+
+"Something like it," Windham answered. "Do you remember when I went to
+the mines I met a man named Burthen? Alice's father, you know. We had a
+mining claim together," His brow clouded. "He was murdered at the
+Eldorado.... Well, that's neither here nor there.... But it left me the
+claim. I didn't think it was worth much. But I've sold it to an Eastern
+syndicate."
+
+"Good!" cried Broderick. "Congratulations."
+
+They shook hands. "Ten thousand," Benito informed him. "We've had an
+offer for the ranch, too. Company wants to make it into small
+allotments.... Think of that! A few years ago we were far in the
+country. Now it's suburban property. They're even talking of
+street cars."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At Vigilante Headquarters Benito found unusual activity. Drays were
+backing up to the doors, unloading bedding, cots, a number of
+cook-stoves. Men were carrying in provisions. Coleman came out with
+Bluxome. They surveyed the work a moment, chatting earnestly,
+then parted.
+
+"We're equipping a commissary and barracks," thus a member informed
+Benito. "Doesn't look much like disbanding, does it? The Chivs. think
+we're through. No such luck. This is costing me $50 a day in my
+business," he sighed. "We've got a dozen blacklegs, shoulder-strikers
+and ballot-stuffers in there now, awaiting trial. We've turned all the
+petty offenders over to the police."
+
+Benito laughed. "And have you noticed this: The Police Courts are
+convicting every single one of them promptly!"
+
+"Yes, they're learning their lessons ... but we've trouble ahead. These
+Southerners and politicians have the Governor in their pocket. He's sent
+two men to Washington to ask the President for troops. Farragut has
+been asked to bombard the city. He's refused. But General Wool has
+promised them arms from Benicia if the Governor and Sherman prove that
+anarchy exists."
+
+"They can't," Benito contended.
+
+"Not by fair means, no.... But that won't stop them. Yesterday Chief
+Justice Terry of the Supreme Court issued a habeas corpus writ for Billy
+Mulligan, Harrison came down today and served it."
+
+"What happened?" asked Benito, eagerly.
+
+"Well, the hotheads wanted to resist--to throw him out. But Bluxome saw
+through the scheme--to get us on record as defying Federal authority. So
+he hid Billy Mulligan and let Harrison search. Of course he found no
+one. We were politely regretful."
+
+"Which settles that," remarked Benito, chuckling.
+
+"Not so fast, old boy!" the other Vigilante cautioned. "Harrison's no
+fool. He couldn't go back outwitted.... So he simply lied. Wrote on the
+warrant, 'service resisted by force.'"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the following day Major General Sherman of the State Militia received
+the following document, dated "Executive Department, Sacramento, June
+2d, 1856":
+
+     Information having been received by me that an armed body of
+     men are now organized in the City and County of San
+     Francisco, in this State, in violation of law; and that they
+     have resisted the due execution of law by preventing a
+     service of a writ of habeas corpus duly issued; and that they
+     are threatening other acts of violence and rebellion against
+     the constitution and the laws of the State; you are hereby
+     commanded to call upon such number as you may deem necessary
+     of the enrolled militia, or those subject to military duty,
+     also upon all the voluntary independent companies of the
+     military division under your command--to report, organize,
+     etc., and act with you in the enforcement of the law.
+
+     J. NEELY JOHNSON.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Two days after the Governor's proclamation half a dozen of the prisoners
+in "Fort Gunnybags" were exiled by the Vigilance Committee. Each, after
+a regular and impartial trial, was found guilty of offenses against the
+law. The sentence was banishment, with death as the penalty for return.
+Under a strong guard of Vigilance Committee police the malodorous sextet
+were marched through town, and placed aboard the steamer Hercules. A
+squad of Vigilantes remained until the vessel left her dock to see that
+they did not escape. Thus did the Committee answer Governor Johnson's
+proclamation. The fortification of the Vigilante Headquarters went on.
+Hundreds of gunnysacks filled with sand were piled in front of the
+building as a protection against artillery fire. This continued for days
+until a barricade ten feet high and six feet thick had been erected with
+embrasures for cannon and a loop-holed platform for riflemen. Cannon
+were placed on the roof of the building where the old Monumental
+firebell had been installed as a tocsin of war.
+
+In the meantime Sherman was enrolling men. They came in rather fast,
+most of them law-breakers seeking protection, and a small minority of
+reputable citizens honestly opposed to Vigilante methods. But the
+armories were bare of rifles and ammunition. Sherman dispatched a hasty
+requisition to General Wool, reminding him of his promise. Days passed
+and no arms arrived. The new recruits were calling for them. Some of
+them drilled with wooden staves and were laughed at. They quit in
+disgust. Then Sherman went to Sacramento. Something was wrong. Johnson,
+nervous and distraught, showed him a letter from General Wool. It was
+briefly and politely to the effect that he had no authority to issue
+arms without a permit from the War Department.
+
+Sherman, always for action, seized his hat. "Come," he said, as though
+the Governor were a subaltern. "We'll go to Benicia. We must have a talk
+with General Wool." And the Governor went.
+
+But Wool, though courteous, proved obdurate. The militia remained
+unarmed.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVIII
+
+SHERMAN RESIGNS
+
+On Saturday, June 7, Benito found Coleman sitting at his desk in the
+executive chamber of Fort Gunnysacks. His usually cheerful countenance
+wore an anxious look, a look of inner conflict. He glanced up, almost
+startled, as Benito entered.
+
+"Fred Macondray and his party are outside," said Windham. "They would
+like to see you."
+
+"What do they wish?" asked Coleman in a harassed tone.
+
+"They're leaving for Benicia today to see the Governor," Benito
+answered. "Want your final word on mediation matters."
+
+Coleman rose with a brisk movement. He paced the room half a dozen
+times, his hands behind him, his head slightly bent, before he spoke.
+
+"Bring 'em in. Call Bluxome and as many of the Executive Committee as
+you can find."
+
+Benito departed. Presently there filed into the room nine gentlemen,
+headed by Macondray. They belonged neither to the Vigilantes nor to the
+Law and Order Party. And they were now bent on averting a clash
+between the two.
+
+"William," Macondray, acting as the spokesman, "what message shall we
+take the Governor?"
+
+Bluxome, Smiley, Dempster and others of the Executive Committee entered.
+Coleman explained to them the purpose of Macondray and his friends.
+"What shall we say to them, boys?" he asked.
+
+"Put it in your own words," Bluxome said. "We'll stand by what you
+say."
+
+Coleman faced Macondray and his companions. "Tell J. Neely Johnson," he
+announced, "that if he will consent to withdraw his proclamation we
+will, on our part, make no further parade of our forces on the street,
+nor will we resist by force any orders of the court."
+
+Bluxome and his companions nodded. Macondray looked a trifle puzzled.
+"Suppose he declines to withdraw the proclamation?" he asked,
+hesitatingly.
+
+"Then," the voice of Coleman rang, "we promise nothing."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the boat which took them to Benicia, Macondray and his friends met
+Major-General Sherman of the State Militia. They found him striding up
+and down the deck, chewing his cigar. Macondray and he compared notes.
+Sherman had been summoned for an interview with Johnson. The Governor
+planned a final onslaught of persuasion, hoping General Wool would
+change his mind; would furnish arms for the militia.
+
+"If he doesn't, it's useless. Men can't fight without guns." Macondray
+thought he noted an undertone of relief in Sherman's words.
+
+"Do you think he'll give them to you?" Macondray asked in an undertone.
+Sherman slowly shook his head. He walked away, as though he dreaded
+further questioning.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At Benicia, Sherman and the Macondray party rode up in the same 'bus to
+the Solano House. Sherman was admitted at once. The committee was asked
+to wait. Sherman entered a room blue with tobacco smoke. It contained
+four men, besides the Governor: Chief Justice David S. Terry, a tall man
+with a hard face, sat tilted back in a chair, his feet on the Governor's
+table. He had not taken off his hat. Without moving or apparently
+looking in that direction, he spat at regular intervals toward the
+fireplace. Near him sat Edward S. Baker, statesmanlike, impressive,
+despite his drink-befuddlement; Edward Jones, of Palmer, Cook & Co.,
+smaller, shrewd, keen and avaricious-eyed, was pouring a drink from a
+decanter; Volney Howard, fat, pompous, aping a blasé, decadent manner,
+stood, as usual, near the mantel.
+
+They all looked up as Sherman entered. Terry favored him with a
+half-concealed scowl; Howard with an open sneer; Jones with deprecating
+hostility. Baker smiled. The Governor, who seemed each day to grow more
+nervous and irritable, held out his hand.
+
+"Well, well, Sherman," he greeted, "glad to see you." Then his brow knit
+in a kind of puzzled provocation. "What's that Vigilante Committee doing
+here with you?"
+
+Terry grunted and spat. Sherman looked them over with a repulsion he
+could not completely conceal. They were men of violent prejudices. It
+was bad to see the Governor so completely in their grasp.
+
+"They are not Vigilantes, your Excellency," he began with punctilious
+hauteur.
+
+"The hell they're not!" said Terry.
+
+Sherman ignored him completely. "My meeting with them was purely
+casual," he resumed. "They are prominent, impartial citizens of San
+Francisco, seeking to make peace. They have, I understand, seen Coleman;
+are prepared to offer certain compromises."
+
+"Aha!" cried Howard, "the rabble is caving in. They're ready to quit."
+
+Johnson looked at Sherman as if for confirmation. He shook his head.
+"Far from it."
+
+"Cannot they state their business in writing?" asked Johnson.
+
+"Send them packing, the damned pork merchants!" Terry said, as if
+issuing a command.
+
+Again the Governor seemed to hesitate. Again his glance sought
+Sherman's. "That would be unwise," returned the soldier.
+
+The Governor summoned a clerk. "Ask the committee to put their business
+in writing!" he ordered. When the man had gone he once more addressed
+Sherman: "Wool absolutely refuses to provide the militia with arms."
+
+Terry's fist smote the table with a crash. A stream of vituperation
+issued from his lips. General Wool, the Vigilance Committee and Admiral
+Farragut were vilified in terms so crude that even the other men
+surveyed the Chief Justice with distaste.
+
+Sherman turned to the door. "Governor, I've had enough of this," he
+spoke sharply. "I shall send you my resignation tonight." He went out,
+leaving Johnson to mutter distressedly. "Never mind," said Terry, "give
+his job to Volney. He'll drive the damned pork merchants into the sea."
+
+"What about rifles and ammunition?" asked Howard with sudden
+practicality.
+
+They looked at each other blankly. Then the wily Jones came forward with
+a shrewd suggestion. "Wool can't refuse you the regular quota of arms
+for annual replenishment," he said. "Get those by requisition. Ship them
+down to San Francisco. Reub Maloney is here. He'll carry them down in
+a sloop."
+
+"But they're only a few hundred guns," said the Governor.
+
+"They'll help," contended Jones. "They'll make a showing."
+
+"Suppose Coleman hears about it; he'll seize them on the bay."
+
+"Then he'll commit an act of 'piracy'," Baker said, explosively.
+
+Terry took his feet from the table, rose. "By God!" he exclaimed,
+"there's an idea! Piracy! A capital offense!" He crammed his hands into
+his pockets and strode heavily up and down.
+
+"Coleman's not likely to hear of our sending these arms," said the
+Governor.
+
+Jones poured another drink and sipped it. "Isn't he, though?" He laughed
+softly. "You fellows just leave that to me." He caught up his hat
+and went out.
+
+"A smart little man," remarked Howard Baker, complacently.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIX
+
+TERRY STABS HOPKINS
+
+The peace-makers took an early boat for San Francisco. They were
+hopelessly alienated from the Law and Order Party. After some
+deliberation they decided to call a mass meeting in front of the
+Oriental Hotel. Thus they hoped to make the Vigilante sentiment
+practically unanimous and request through popular acclaim, a withdrawal
+of the Governor's proclamation.
+
+Early on June 14, the day appointed, citizens began to gather at Bush
+and Battery streets; by noon they blocked both thoroughfares and
+overflowed into Market street. Each window, roof and balcony near by was
+filled. Women in their summer finery lent gay splashes of color, waved
+parasols or handkerchiefs excitedly at their acquaintances below.
+
+Inez Windham called to David Broderick, who was passing, "There's room
+for one more on our balcony. Come up." As he stood behind her in the
+window, stooping a little, she looked eagerly into his careworn face.
+"One might think it was a circus." He smiled.
+
+"You remind me of champagne, you San Franciscans. The inherent quality
+of you is sparkle.... Even if an earthquake came along and swallowed
+you, I think you'd go down with that same light, laughing nonchalance."
+
+Mrs. Stanley made a moue at him. "You find us--different from your
+Eastern ladies, Mr. Broderick?" she asked expectantly.
+
+He considered for a moment. "Sometimes I think it is the land more
+than the women. They come from everywhere--with all their varied
+prejudices, modes, conventions. But, after a time, they become
+Californians--like you."
+
+"That's what Benito says," returned his sister. "He's daft about San
+Francisco. He calls it his Golden City. I think"--she leaned nearer,
+"but you must not say I told you--I think he has written poetry
+about it."
+
+"Ah, yes," said Broderick, "he has that strain. And how is Alice?"
+
+"Alice is well," he heard Inez say. Then a great shout from the street
+silenced their converse. Colonel Bailie Peyton was speaking.
+
+"We are here to consider principles of the first magnitude and which may
+result in the shedding of innocent blood. One of the objects of this
+meeting is to prevent so dire a calamity.
+
+"The Vigilance Committee must be sustained or put down. If they are put
+down it must be at the point of the bayonet. The question is whether we
+shall appeal to the Governor to put them down in this way, or whether we
+shall ask him to withdraw his opposition."
+
+He looked up at the balconies across the street.
+
+"The Vigilance Committeemen have the prayers of the churches on their
+side, and the smiles of the ladies--God bless them."
+
+There were cheers and applause.
+
+Again his voice rose to crescendo:
+
+"Let us show the Governor that if he fights the Committee he will have
+to walk over more dead bodies than can be disposed of in the cemetery.
+Let us indorse all the Committeemen have done. Let us be ready to fight
+for them if necessary."
+
+The crowd broke into wild huzzas. Volney Howard and Richard Ashe, the
+naval officer, paused on a near-by corner, attracted by the uproar.
+Howard scowled and muttered something about "damned pork merchants,"
+but he looked uneasy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Vigilance Committee, undaunted by Governor Johnson's proclamation or
+the efforts of the Law and Order element, continued quietly the work of
+ridding San Francisco of its criminals and undesirables.
+
+On June 10 the National Guard of San Francisco disbanded and Marshal
+Hampton North resigned. Rumor had it that the Vigilance Committee's work
+was finished. On July 4 they would disband with a great public
+demonstration, it was rumored. Coleman did not deny this.
+
+On July 19 came news that rifles and ammunition were being shipped from
+Benicia; Wool was said at last to have capitulated. But it turned out to
+be a small annual replenishment order of 130 muskets with a few rounds
+of powder and ball. Later came the exciting rumors that John Durkee,
+Charles Rand and a crew of ten men had captured the sloop carrying these
+arms on the bay; had arrested Reuben Maloney, John Phillips and a man
+named McNab. The arms were brought to Committee Headquarters in San
+Francisco. On arrival there, perhaps through oversight, the prisoners
+were released.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Vigilance Committee made two serious mistakes. They fell into the
+Law and Order trap by committing an act of technical piracy. From this
+Durkee saved them by taking upon himself the legal onus of the seizure.
+The second error, though a minor one, proved much more serious. They
+sent Sterling Hopkins, a vainglorious, witless, overzealous wight, to
+rearrest Maloney. Coleman was not responsible for this; nor were the
+Vigilantes in a larger sense, for a few hotheads in temporary command
+issued the order. Hopkins, glorying in the quest, for any errand of
+authority made him big with pride, set out alone to execute it. He found
+Maloney in the office of Dr. Richard P. Ashe, United States naval
+agent. Ashe was companioned by adherents of the Law and Order faction,
+among them Justice David S. Terry.
+
+Pushing the doorkeeper rudely aside, Hopkins entered the room. "Come
+with me, Reub Maloney," he commanded, "you're under arrest."
+
+Maloney shrank into a corner. Ashe stepped in the constable's path. "Get
+out of here!" he thundered. "As a Federal officer I order you
+to begone!"
+
+"And I, as a judge and a Southern gentleman, will kick you out, suh."
+Judge Terry moved menacing forward. His eyes flashed. Several others
+joined him. They took Hopkins by the shoulders and pushed him none too
+gently out of the room. The door closed. He stood for a moment in the
+hall, muttering in his outraged dignity. Then he turned and ran toward
+Fort Vigilance.
+
+"We've scared the dirty peddler," Ashe said, as they watched his flying
+footsteps from a window.
+
+"He's gone for reinforcements," said another. "Let's get out of here.
+The Blues' armory is better." There was some argument. Finally, however,
+armed with pistols, they sought the street, forming a guard around
+Maloney. But they had not proceeded far down Jackson street when Hopkins
+came upon them with nine men. Both parties halted, Judge Terry standing
+in front of the prisoner; Hopkins, who was no coward for all his pompous
+tactlessness, advanced determinedly. He reached around the Judge and
+clutched at Maloney's arm. "I arrest you in the name of the Committee."
+
+"To hell with your Committee!" shouted Terry. He struck Hopkins' arm
+away and poked a derringer in the policeman's face.
+
+Hopkins countered; the pistol went flying. Terry staggered back, while
+Hopkins made another clutch at his intended prisoner.
+
+Then occurred, with lightning speed, an unexpected thing. Terry,
+recovering his balance, sprang forward, drew the bowie knife he always
+carried and plunged it, with a vicious thrust, into Hopkins' neck.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER L
+
+THE COMMITTEE DISBANDS
+
+Alice Windham and her little son, named Robert for his grandfather, were
+passing Coleman's store, en route to Benito's office; it was a pleasant,
+quiet afternoon, almost windless. The infant Robert toddled manfully
+along on his five-year legs, holding tightly to his mother's hand.
+
+Men began to rush by, jostling them in their haste. The child drew
+closer to his mother. More men passed. Some of them were carrying guns.
+Coleman, emerging hurriedly, stopped at sight of Mrs. Windham.
+
+"Better go inside," he advised, "there's trouble afoot." He picked up
+the now frightened child and escorted the mother to his office. "Sit
+down," he invited. "It's comfortable here ... and safe."
+
+Before she could thank him he was off. At the door Miers Truett hailed
+him. "Hopkins stabbed," she heard him pant. He had been running. "May
+die ... Terry did it."
+
+They went off together. Other men stood in the doorway. "By the
+Eternal!" one was saying. "A Judge of the Supreme Court! What will
+Coleman do? They can't arrest Terry."
+
+There was a silence. Then the Monumental Fire Engine bell began to toll.
+"Come on," the second man spoke with a kind of thrill. "That's
+Coleman's answer."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Terry, Ashe and their companions ran pell mell up Jackson street until
+they reached the armory of the San Francisco Blues. It was rather an
+ornate building, guarded by iron doors. These stood open as the
+fugitives entered, but were immediately closed and guarded by a posse
+of pursuing Vigilantes, effectually preventing Law and Order
+reinforcements from the outside.
+
+Meanwhile the wounded Hopkins, screaming that he was murdered, had been
+carried into the Pennsylvania Engine House close by. Dr. Beverly Cole,
+the Vigilante surgeon chief, was summoned and pronounced the wound a
+serious one. Thereupon the bell was tolled.
+
+Half an hour later several thousand men under Marshal Doane marched to
+the armory. In front of it he drew up his forces and knocked on the
+inner portal.
+
+"What d'ye want?" came the heavy bass of David Terry, a little less
+arrogant than usual.
+
+"The committee has ordered the arrest of yourself and your party,"
+answered Doane. "Will you come quietly?"
+
+There was excited murmuring; then Terry's heavy tones once more: "Do you
+mean that you will attack the person of a Supreme Court Justice?" he
+asked half incredulous.
+
+"We will arrest all those who commit or attempt murder."
+
+More whispering.
+
+"Very well," said Terry. "I will not subject my friends to violence....
+But I warn you that the consequences will be serious."
+
+Doane ignored this, waiting quietly until the door was opened. Then he
+detailed a guard for the prisoners. At 4 o'clock--an hour after Hopkins
+had been wounded--Terry, Ashe and half a dozen others were locked in
+cells at Fort Vigilance. Once more the town was quiet.
+
+"It is all over," Benito told his wife, whom he found in Coleman's
+office. "We can go home now." Little Robert slept. His mother picked him
+up gently.
+
+"What will they do with Judge Terry?" she asked in an excited whisper.
+
+"If Hopkins dies they'll hang him sure as shooting," said Benito.
+
+Sterling Hopkins did not die, despite the serious nature of his wound.
+Had he done so many a different chapter might have been recorded in the
+history of San Francisco. Hopkins lived to pass into inconsequence.
+Terry was released to wreak once more his violent hatred on a fellow
+being, to perish in a third and final outburst of that savagery which
+marred his whole career.
+
+Captain Ashe and others taken in the Terry raid were soon released upon
+parole. The Supreme Court Judge remained a prisoner in Fort Vigilance
+for many weeks.
+
+After days and nights of wrestling with the situation, the Committee
+judged the prisoner guilty of assault. As the usual punishment within
+their power to inflict was not applicable in this case, the prisoner was
+discharged. It was pointedly suggested that the best interests of the
+State demanded his resignation. To this, however, Terry paid no heed.
+
+Broderick, who had been out of town, campaigning, met Ike Bluxome on
+Montgomery street.
+
+"I thought you folks were going to disband," he spoke half-banteringly.
+And Bluxome answered with, his usual gravity. "We thought so, too ...
+but Terry jumped into the picture. Now he's boasting that the Committee
+didn't dare to hold him longer." Bluxome smiled faintly. "He was meek
+enough till Hopkins had recovered ... offered to resign and quit the
+State forever."
+
+"I believe in Terry," Broderick remarked. "He's quarrelsome, but
+brave--and honest as a judge. I spent a lot of money in a newspaper
+fight to help him through this mess."
+
+Bluxome eyed him keenly. "Yes, I know you did. I know you were sincere,
+too, Broderick. That's why we didn't bother you for bribing the editors.
+But you will get no thanks from Terry. He's against you on the slavery
+question. He'd kill you tomorrow if he got a chance. You or any other
+man that's in his way. Watch out for him."
+
+"Nonsense," said Broderick, and walked away.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On August 18th the Vigilantes paraded for the last time. There were four
+artillery batteries with an armament of fifteen cannon. Then came the
+Executive Committee followed by two companies of dragoons, each preceded
+by a band; the medical staff of fifty members, the Committee of 1851,
+some half a hundred strong, and four regiments of infantry.
+
+San Francisco was ablaze with decorations, vibrant with enthusiasm. Men,
+women, children, turned out to do the Vigilantes honor. A float symbolic
+of Fort Gunnybags was wildly cheered.
+
+Benito Windham, Adrian Stanley and their families stood at the window of
+an office which had "B. Windham, Attorney and Counselor," inscribed upon
+its door. Benito had but recently passed his law examination and Alice
+was accordingly proud.
+
+Broderick, who stood near her with an arm about young Robert, looked out
+at the pageant.
+
+"They have been my enemies," he said, "but I take off my hat to your
+Committee. They have done a wondrous work, Benito lad."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LI
+
+SENATOR BRODERICK
+
+Swept clear of its lesser rascals, San Francisco still, ostensibly, was
+ruled by Freelon, Scannell, Byrne and other officials of the former city
+government, who had defied the people's invitation to resign. They did
+little more than mark time, however. Jury-packing was at an end for the
+Committee had posted publicly the names of men unfit to judge their
+fellows, and the courts had wisely failed to place them on venires.
+
+"Wait till November," was the watchword. And San Francisco waited. A
+committee of twenty-one was appointed at a mass meeting shortly before
+the city election. By this body were selected candidates for all
+municipal offices. Their ticket was the most diversified, perhaps, that
+ever was presented to a city's voters, for it included northern and
+southern men, Republicans, Democrats, Know-Nothings, Jews, Catholics and
+Protestants. Yet there was an extraordinary basic homogeneity about
+them. All were honest and respected business men, pledged to serve the
+city faithfully and selflessly. Former Marshal Doane of Vigilante fame
+was chosen as chief of police.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Broderick was the Windhams' guest at their new home on Powell street
+overlooking the bay when Benito's clerk brought them news of
+the election.
+
+"Every reform candidate wins by a landslide," cried the youth
+enthusiastically. "I cast my first vote today, Mr. Windham," he said
+proudly, "and I'm glad to know that the ballot-box had no false bottom."
+He turned to Broderick. "Your men fared mighty well too, sir,
+considering--" He paused and reddened, but the politician clapped him,
+laughing, on the shoulder. "That's right, my boy. Be honest,"
+he declared.
+
+"It means you'll be our Senator next year," the lad said staunchly,
+holding out his hand. "They're all saying so down town. Allow me to
+congratulate you, sir."
+
+The keen, half-smiling eyes of Broderick took stock of Herbert Waters.
+Tall, shy and awkward, with a countenance fresh, unmarked, but eager and
+alert with clean ideals.
+
+"Thank you, son," he pressed the lad's hand vigorously. "Perhaps ... if
+I should get to Washington, there'll be a place for you. You'll like it,
+wouldn't you? To see a little of the world?"
+
+"Would I?" cried the youth, delighted. "Try me." He departed, treading
+on air. Alice Windham shook a finger at her guest. "Dave, you mustn't
+trifle with our little protégé.... But you did it charmingly. Tell me,
+will you have to go about now, kissing babies and all that sort
+of thing?"
+
+"No doubt," he answered gaily. "So I'll practice on your little Bob." He
+caught the child up in his arms. "Got a kiss for Uncle Dave?" he asked.
+
+Robert's response was instant and vehement. Laughing, Broderick took
+from an inner pocket a long and slender parcel, which he unwrapped with
+tantalizing slowness. It revealed at last a gaily painted
+monkey-on-a-stick which clambered up and down with marvelous agility
+when Broderick pulled a string.
+
+"This, my little man," he said half soberly, "is how we play the game of
+politics." He made the jointed figure race from top to bottom while his
+eyes were rather grim. "Here, you try it, Bobbie," he said. "I've played
+with it long enough."
+
+Broderick came to them aglow with triumph. He was a big man now, a
+national figure. Only a short time ago he had been a discredited boss of
+municipal politics. Now he was going to Washington. He had made William
+Gwin, the magnificent, do homage. He had all of the federal patronage
+for California. For years it had gone to Southern men. San Francisco's
+governmental offices had long been known as "The Virginia Poorhouse."
+Now its plums would be apportioned to the politicians of the North.
+
+Everywhere one heard the praise of Broderick's astuteness. He had a way
+of making loyal friends. A train of them had followed him through years
+of more or less continuous defeat and now they were rejoicing in the
+prospect of reward.
+
+He was explaining this to Alice. Trying to at least. "One has to pay his
+debts," he told her. "These men have worked for me as hard as any
+factory slaves. And without any definite certainty of compensation. Do
+you remember young Waters who came here last December to congratulate
+me? Yes, of course, he was Benito's clerk. I'd forgotten that. Well,
+what did that young rascal do but grow a beard and hire out as a waiter
+in the Magnolia Hotel. He overheard some plots against me in a corner of
+the dining room. And thus we were prepared to checkmate all the
+movements of the enemy.... I call that smart. I'll see that he gets a
+good berth. A senate clerkship. Something of the sort."
+
+"When do you leave?" asked Alice quickly.
+
+"Tomorrow.... Gwin is going also. I'll stop over in New York." He smiled
+at her. "When I left there I told my friends I'd not return until I was
+a senator. Eight years ago that was.... And now I'm making good my
+promise." He laughed boyishly.
+
+"You're very happy over it, aren't you, Dave?" she said with a shadow of
+wistfulness.
+
+"Why, yes, to be sure," he answered. His eyes held hers. "I'll miss
+you, of course.... All of you." He spoke with a touch of restraint.
+
+"And we'll miss YOU." She said more brightly, "I know you will do us
+much honor ... there in the nation's capital." Her hand went half way
+out toward him and drew back. "You'll fight always ... for the right
+alone ... Dave Broderick."
+
+He took a step toward her. "By God! I will promise you that. I'm through
+with ward politics, with tricks and intriguing. I'm going to fight for
+Freedom ... against Slavery. They're trying to fasten Slavery onto
+Kansas. President Buchanan is a Pennsylvanian but he's dominated by the
+Southern men. Washington is dominated by them. There aren't more than
+half a dozen who are not afraid of them." He drew himself up. "But I'm
+one. Douglas of Illinois is another. And Seward of New York. I've heard
+from them. We stand together."
+
+He laughed a shade bitterly. "It's difficult to fancy, isn't it? Dave
+Broderick, the son of a stone mason, a former fireman, bartender,
+ward-boss--fighting for an ideal? Against the Solid South?"
+
+She came closer. "Dave, you must not say such things." She looked about
+her. They were alone in the room, for Benito had gone out with Robert.
+"Dave, we're proud of you.... And I--I shall always see you, standing in
+the Senate Chamber, battling, like a Knight of Old...."
+
+Her face was upturned to his. His hands clenched themselves. With a
+swift movement he caught up his hat and stick. Fled from the house
+without a good-bye.
+
+As he went down the hill with long strides, his mind was torn between a
+fierce pride in his proven strength and a heart-wrecked yearning.
+
+He started the next morning for Washington.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LII
+
+A TRIP TO CHINATOWN
+
+Samuel Brannan brought the first news from Washington. Gwin, who owed
+his place to Broderick, had after all betrayed him. The bargained-for
+double patronage was not forthcoming. Broderick was grievously
+disappointed in Buchanan. There had been a clash between them. No
+Democratic Senator, the President had said, could quarrel profitably
+with the Administration. Which meant that Broderick must sustain the
+Lecompton Resolution or lose face and favor in the nation's forum.
+Things were at a bitter pass.
+
+"What's the Lecompton Resolution?" Alice asked.
+
+"It's a long story," Brannan answered. "In brief, it means forcing
+slavery on Kansas, whose people don't want it. And on the Lecompton
+Resolution hinges more or less the balance of power, which will keep us,
+here, in the free States, or give us, bound and gagged, to the South."
+
+"And you say Gwin has repudiated his pact?"
+
+"Either that ... or Buchanan has refused to sanction it. The result is
+the same. David doesn't get his patronage."
+
+"I'm glad! I'm glad!" cried Alice.
+
+Brannan looked at her astonished. "But ... you don't know what it means.
+His men, awaiting their political rewards! His organization here ... it
+will be weakened. You don't understand, Mrs. Windham."
+
+"I don't care," she said. "It leaves him--cleaner--stronger!" She turned
+swiftly and left the room. Brannan shrugged his shoulders. "There's no
+fathoming women," he thought.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But Broderick, in far Washington, understood when there came to him a
+letter. It bore neither signature nor salutation:
+
+"When one is stripped of weapons--sometimes it is by the will of God!
+And He does not fail to give us better ones.
+
+"Truth! Righteousness! Courage to attack all Evil. These are mightier
+than the weapons of the World.
+
+"Oh, my friend, stand fast! You are never alone. The spirit of another
+is forever with you. Watching--waiting--knowing you shall win the
+victory which transcends all price."
+
+He read this letter endlessly while people waited in his ante-room. Then
+he summoned Herbert Waters, now his secretary, and sent them all away.
+Among them was a leader of the New York money-powers who never forgave
+that slight; another was an emissary of the President. Broderick neither
+knew nor cared. He put the letter in his pocket; walked for hours in the
+snow, on the banks of the frozen Potomac.
+
+That afternoon he reviewed the situation, was closeted an hour with
+Douglas of Illinois. The two of them sought Seward of New York, who had
+just arrived. To their conference came Chase and Wade of Ohio, Trumbull
+of Illinois, Fessenden of Maine, Wilson of Massachusetts, Cameron of
+Pennsylvania.
+
+Soon thereafter Volney Howard in San Francisco received an unsigned
+telegram, supposedly from Gwin:
+
+Unexpected gathering anti-slavery forces. Looks bad for Lecompton
+Resolution. President worried about California.
+
+In the southeastern part of San Francisco a few tea and silk merchants
+had, years before, established the nucleus of an Oriental quarter.
+Gradually it had grown until there were provision shops where
+queer-looking dried vegetables, oysters strung necklace-wise on rings of
+bamboo, eggs preserved in a kind of brown mold, strange brown nuts and
+sweetmeats were displayed; there were drugs-shops with wondrous gold and
+ebony fret work, temples with squat gods above amazing shrines.
+
+There were stark-odored fish-stalls in alleyways so narrow that the sun
+touched them rarely, barred upper-windows from which the faces of
+slant-eyed women peeped in eager wistfulness as if upon an unfamiliar
+world. Cellar doorways from which slipper-shod, pasty-faced Cantonese
+crept furtively at dawn; sentineled portals, which gave ingress to
+gambling houses protected by sheet-iron doors.
+
+On a pleasant Sunday, early in February, Benito, Alice, Adrian and Inez
+walked in Chinatown with David Broderick. The latter was about to leave
+for Washington to attend his second session in Congress. Things had
+fared ill with him politically there and at home.
+
+Just now David Broderick was trying to forget Congress and those battles
+which the next few weeks were sure to bring. He wanted to carry with him
+to Washington the memory of Alice Windham as she walked beside him in
+the mellow Winter sunshine. An odor of fruit blossoms came to them
+almost unreally sweet, and farther down the street they saw many little
+street-stands where flowering branches of prune and almond were
+displayed.
+
+"It's their New Year festival," Adrian explained. "Come, we'll visit
+some of the shops; they'll give us tea and cakes, for that's
+their custom."
+
+"How interesting!" remarked Inez. She shook hands cordially with a
+grave, handsomely gowned Chinese merchant, whose emporium they now
+entered. To her astonishment he greeted her in perfect English. "A
+graduate of Harvard College," Broderick whispered in her ear.
+
+Wong Lee brought forward a tray on which was an assortment of strange
+sweetmeats in little porcelain dishes; he poured from a large tea-pot a
+tiny bowl of tea for each of his visitors. While they drank and nibbled
+at the candy he pressed his hands together, moved them up and down and
+bowed low as a visitor entered; the latter soon departed, apparently
+abashed by the Americans.
+
+"He would not mingle with the 'foreign devils,'" Broderick smiled. "That
+was Chang Foo, who runs the Hall of Everlasting Fortune, wasn't it?"
+
+"Yes, the gambling house," Wong Lee answered. "A bad man," his voice
+sank to a whisper. "Chief of the Hip Lee tong, for the protection of the
+trade in slave women. He came, no doubt, to threaten me because I am
+harboring a Christian convert. See," he opened a drawer and took
+therefrom a rectangle of red paper. "Last night this was found on my
+door. It reads something like this:
+
+"Withdraw your shelter from the renegade Po Lun, who renounces the gods
+of his fathers. Send him forth to meet his fate--lest the blade of an
+avenger cleave your meddling skull."
+
+"Po was a member of the Hip Yees when he was converted; they stole a
+Chinese maiden--his beloved and Po Sun hoped to rescue her. That is why
+he joined that band of rascals."
+
+"And did he succeed?" asked Alice.
+
+"No," Wong Lee sighed. "They spirited her away--out of the city. She is
+doubtless in some slave house at Vancouver or Seattle. Poor Po! He is
+heartbroken."
+
+"And what of yourself; are you not in danger?" Broderick questioned.
+
+Wong smiled wanly. "Until the New Year season ends I am safe at any
+rate."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIII
+
+ENTER PO LUN
+
+Broderick returned to Washington; he wrote seldom, but the newspapers
+printed, now and then, extracts from his speeches. The Democrats were
+once more a dominating power and their organs naturally attacked the
+California Senator who defied both President and party; they asserted
+that Broderick was an ignorant boor, whose speeches were written for him
+by a journalist named Wilkes. But they did not explain how Broderick
+more than held his own in extemporaneous debate with the nation's
+seasoned orators. Many of these would have taken advantage of his
+inexperience, for he was the second youngest Senator in Congress. But he
+revealed a natural and disconcerting skill at verbal riposte which made
+him respected, if not feared by his opponents. One day, being harried by
+administration Senators, he struck back with a savagery which, for the
+moment, silenced them.
+
+The San Francisco papers--for that matter, all the journals of the
+nation--printed Broderick's words conspicuously. And, as they held with
+North or South, with Abolition or with Slavery, they praised or
+censured him.
+
+"I hope, in mercy to the boasted intelligence of this age, the
+historian, when writing the history of these times, will ascribe the
+attempt of the President to enforce the Lecompton resolution upon an
+unwilling people to the fading intellect, the petulant passion and the
+trembling dotage of an old man on the verge of the grave."
+
+"Buchanan will be furious," said Benito. "They say he's an old beau who
+wears a toupee and knee-breeches. All Washington that dares to do so
+will be laughing at him, especially the ladies."
+
+Benito returned from the office one foggy June evening with a copy of
+The Bulletin that contained a speech by Broderick. It was dusk and Alice
+had lighted the lamp to read the Washington dispatch as she always did
+with eager interest, when there came a light, almost stealthy knock at
+the door. Benito, rather startled, opened it. There stood a Chinese
+youth of about 18, wrapped in a huge disguising cloak. He bowed low
+several times, then held forth a letter addressed in brush-fashioned,
+India-ink letters to "B. Windham Esquire."
+
+Curiously he opened it and read:
+
+"The hand of the 'avenger' has smitten. I have not long to live. Will
+you, in your honorable kindness, protect my nephew, Po Lun? He will make
+a good and faithful servant, requiting kindness with zeal. May the Lord
+of Heaven bless you."
+
+"WONG LEE."
+
+Excitedly and with many gestures Po Lun described the killing of his
+uncle by a Hip Yee "hatchetman." But even in his dying hour Wong Lee had
+found means to protect a kinsman. Po Lun wept as he told of Wong Lee's
+goodness. Suddenly he knelt and touched his forehead three times to the
+floor at Alice's feet. "Missee, please, you let me stay?" he pleaded.
+"Po Lun plenty work. Washee, cookee, clean-em house." His glance strayed
+toward the cradle. "Takem care you' li'l boy."
+
+Benito glanced at Alice questioningly. "Would you--trust him?" he
+whispered.
+
+"Yes," she said impulsively. "He has a good face ... and we need a
+servant." She beckoned to Po Lun. "Come, I will show you the kitchen and
+a place to sleep."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Broderick came back from Washington and entered actively into the State
+campaign. He found its politics a hodge-podge of unsettled, bitter
+policies. The Republicans made overtures to him; they sought a coalition
+with the Anti-Lecompton Democrats as opposed to Chivalry or Solid South
+Democracy.
+
+Benito and Alice saw little of Broderick. He was here, there,
+everywhere, making impassioned, often violent speeches. Most of them
+were printed in the daily papers.
+
+"They'll be duelling soon," said Windham anxiously, as he read of
+Broderick's accusations of "The Lime Point Swindle," "The Mail-carrying
+Conspiracy," his reference to Gwin and Latham as "two great criminals,"
+to the former, "dripping with corruption."
+
+Then came Judge Terry with an unprovoked attack on members of the
+Anti-Lecompton party. "They are the personal chattels of one man," he
+said, "a single individual whom they are ashamed of. They belong heart,
+soul, body and breeches to David C. Broderick. Afraid to acknowledge
+their master they call themselves Douglas Democrats.... Perhaps they
+sail under the flag of Douglas, but it is the Black Douglas, whose name
+is Frederick, not Stephen."
+
+Frederick Douglas was a negro. Therefore, Terry's accusation was the
+acme of insult and contumely, which a Southerner's imagination could
+devise. Broderick read it in a morning paper as he breakfasted with
+friends in the International Hotel and, wounded by the thrust from one
+he deemed a friend, spoke bitterly:
+
+"I have always said that Terry was the only honest man on the bench of a
+miserably corrupt court. But I take it all back. He is just as bad as
+the others."
+
+By some evil chance, D.W. Perley overheard that statement--which
+proceeded out of Broderick's momentary irritation. Perley was a man of
+small renown, a lawyer, politician and a whilom friend of Terry.
+Instantly he seized the opportunity to force a quarrel, and, in Terry's
+name, demanded "satisfaction." Broderick was half amused at first, but
+in the end retorted angrily. They parted in a violent altercation.
+
+"Dave," said Alice, as he dined with them that evening, "your're not
+going to fight this man?"
+
+"I shall ignore the fellow. I've written him that I fight with no one
+but my equal. He can make what he likes out of that. I've been in a duel
+or two. Nobody will question my courage."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Po Lun proved a model servitor, a careful nurse. Alice often left in his
+efficient hands her household tasks. Sometimes she and Benito took an
+outing of a Saturday afternoon, for there was now a pleasant drive down
+the Peninsula along the new San Bruno turnpike to San Mateo.
+
+The Windhams were returning from such a drive in the pleasant afternoon
+sunshine when a tumult of newsboys hawking an extra edition
+arrested them.
+
+"Big duel ... Broderick and Terry!" shrieked the "newsies." Benito
+stopped the horse and bought a paper, perusing the headlines feverishly.
+Alice leaned over his shoulder, her face white. Presently Benito faced
+her. "Terry's forced a fight on Dave," he said huskily. "They're to meet
+on Monday at the upper end of Lake Merced."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIV
+
+THE "FIELD OF HONOR"
+
+Chief of Police Burke lingered late in his office that Saturday
+afternoon. Twilight had passed into dusk, through which the street lamps
+were beginning to glimmer, leaping here and there into sudden luminance
+as the lamp-lighter made his rounds. Deep in the complexities of police
+reports Burke had scarcely noted the entrance of a police clerk who
+lighted the swinging lamp overhead. And he was only dimly aware of faint
+knocking at his door. It came a second, a third time before he roused
+himself. "Come in," he called, none too graciously.
+
+The door opened with an inrush of wind which caused his lamp to flicker.
+Before him stood a slight and well-gowned woman, heavily veiled. She was
+trembling. He looked at her expectantly, but she did not speak.
+
+"Please be seated, madam," said the chief of police.
+
+But she continued to stand. Presently words came to her. "Can you stop a
+duel? Will you?" Her hands went out in a gesture of supplication,
+involuntary, unstudiedly dramatic.
+
+"What do you mean?" he asked. "What duel?"
+
+"Senator Broderick ... Justice Terry," a wealth of hate was in her
+utterance of the second name. "They fight at sunrise Monday morning."
+
+"It's not our custom to--interfere in such cases," Burke said slowly.
+"What would you have me do? Arrest them?"
+
+"Anything," she cried. "Oh--ANYTHING!"
+
+He looked at her searchingly. "If you will raise your veil, madam, I
+will talk with you further. Otherwise I must bid you goodnight."
+
+For a moment she stood motionless. Then her hand went upward, stripped
+the covering from her features. "Now," she asked him, in a half-shamed
+whisper, "will you help me?"
+
+"Yes ... Mrs. Windham," said Burke.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At daybreak on a raw, cold Monday morning, Broderick, with his seconds,
+Joe McKibben and Dave Colton, arrived at the upper end of Lake Merced.
+Terry and his seconds were already waiting. The principals, clad in long
+overcoats, did not salute each other. Broderick looked toward the sea.
+Terry stood implacable and silent, turning now and then to spit into the
+sun dried grass. The seconds conferred with each other. All seemed ready
+to begin when an officer, springing from a foam-flecked horse, rushed up
+to Broderick and shouted, "You are under arrest."
+
+Broderick turned half-bewildered. He was very tired, for he had not
+slept the night before. "Arrest?" he said blankly.
+
+"You and Justice Terry," said the officer; "I've warrants for ye both.
+Come along and no nonsense. This duel is stopped."
+
+Terry began an angry denunciation of the officer, but his seconds,
+Calhoun Benham and Colonel Thomas Hayes, persuaded him at length into a
+blustering submission. Principals and seconds, feeling like the actors
+in an ill-considered farce, rode off together. Later they were summoned
+to appear before Judge Coon.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"The whole thing was a farce," Benito told his wife. "The case was
+dismissed. Our prosecuting counsel asked the judge to put them under
+bonds to keep the peace. But he refused."
+
+"Then the fight will go on?" asked Alice. Her face was white.
+
+"Doubtless," said Benito gloomily. "They say that Terry's been
+practicing with a pair of French pistols during the past two months and
+hopes to use them at the meeting. Old 'Natchez,' the gunsmith, tells me
+one's a tricky weapon ... discharges now and then before the
+trigger's pressed."
+
+"Why--that would be murder," Alice spoke aghast. "You must find David's
+seconds and warn them."
+
+"I've tried all afternoon to locate them ... they're hidden ... afraid
+of arrest."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Despite the secrecy with which the second meeting was arranged, some
+three score spectators were already assembled at the duelling ground
+when Broderick and Terry arrived. It was not far from where they had met
+on the previous morning, but no officer appeared to interrupt their
+combat. Both men looked nervous and worn, especially Broderick, who had
+spent the night in a flea-infested hut on the ocean shore at the
+suggestion of his seconds who feared further interference. Terry had
+fared better, being quartered at the farm house of a friend who provided
+breakfast and a flask of rum.
+
+The seconds tossed for position and those of Broderick won. The choice
+of pistols, too, was left to chance, which favored Terry. Joe McKibben
+thought he saw a smile light the faces of Benham and Hayes, a smile of
+secret understanding. The French pistols were produced and Hayes, with
+seeming care, selected one of them. McKibben took the other. He saw
+Benham whisper something to Terry as the latter grasped his weapon, saw
+the judge's eyes light with a sudden satisfaction.
+
+"You will fire between the words 'one' and 'two'," Colton announced
+crisply. "Are you ready, gentlemen?"
+
+Terry answered "Yes" immediately. Broderick, who was endeavoring to
+adjust the unfamiliar stock of the foreign pistol to his grasp, did not
+hear. McKibben repeated, "Are you ready, Dave?" in an undertone.
+Broderick looked up with nervous and apologetic haste, "Yes, yes, quite
+ready," he replied.
+
+"One," called Colton. Broderick's pistol spoke. Discharged apparently
+before aim could be taken; his bullet struck the ground at Terry's feet.
+Broderick, now defenseless, waited quietly. "Two," the word came. Terry,
+who had taken careful aim, now fired. Broderick staggered, recovered
+himself. His face was distorted with pain. Slowly he sank to one knee;
+sidewise upon his elbow, then lay prone.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was Sunday, September 18th. In the plaza a catafalque had been
+erected, draped in black. Upon it stood a casket covered with flowers.
+An immense crowd was about it, strangely silent. Across the platform a
+constant stream of people filed, each stopping a moment to gaze at a
+face that lay still and peaceful, seemingly composed in sleep. It was a
+keen and striking face; the forehead bespoke intellect and high resolve;
+the jaw and chin indomitable; aggressive bravery. Over all there was a
+stamp of sadness and of loneliness that caught one's heart. Friends,
+political compatriots and erstwhile enemies paid David Broderick a final
+tribute as they passed; few without a twitching of the lips. Tears ran
+down the faces of both men and women. The crowd murmured. Then the
+splendid moving voice of Colonel Baker poured forth an oration like Mark
+Anthony above the bier of Caesar:
+
+     "Citizens of California: A Senator lies dead.... It is not
+     fit that such a man should pass into the tomb unheralded;
+     that such a life should steal, unnoticed, to its close. It is
+     not fit that such a death should call forth no rebuke...."
+
+His majestic voice rolled on, telling of Broderick's work, his
+character, devotion to the people. He assailed the practice of duelling,
+the bitter hatreds of a slave-impassioned South. His voice shook with
+emotion as he ended:
+
+     "Thus, O brave heart! we bear thee to thy rest. As in life no
+     other voice so rung its trumpet blast upon the ear of
+     freemen, so in death its echoes will reverberate amid our
+     valleys and mountains until truth and valor cease to appeal
+     to the human heart.
+
+     "Good friend! True hero! Hail and farewell."
+
+[Illustration: Terry, who had taken careful aim, now fired. Broderick
+staggered, recovered himself. Slowly he sank to one knee.]
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LV
+
+THE SOUTHERN PLOT
+
+America stood on war's threshold. Even in the West one felt its
+imminence. The Republican victory had been like a slap in the face to
+slave-holding democracy. Its strongholds were secretly arming,
+mobilizing, drilling. And though Lincoln wisely held his peace--warned
+all the States which hummed with wild secession talk that their
+aggression alone could disrupt the Union--the wily Stanton, through the
+machinery of the War Department, prepared with quiet grimness for the
+coming struggle.
+
+Herbert Waters, after Broderick's death, returned to Windham's office.
+He was a full-fledged lawyer now, more of a partner than an employee.
+Waters was of Southern antecedents, a native of Kentucky, a friend,
+almost a protégé, of General Albert Sydney Johnson, commanding the
+military district of the Pacific.
+
+One evening in January, 1861, he dined with the Windhams. Early in the
+evening Benito was called out to the bedside of an ailing client, who
+desired him to write a will. After he was gone, young Waters turned
+to Alice.
+
+"You were a friend of Mr. Broderick's," he said impulsively. "He often
+spoke of you ... and once, not long before he died, he said to me:
+'Herbert, when your soul's in trouble, go to Alice Windham ...'"
+
+Mrs. Windham put aside her knitting rather hastily, rose and walked to
+the window. She made no answer.
+
+Presently the boy continued: "That time has come--now--Mrs. Windham."
+
+Alice crossed the room and laid a hand upon his shoulder. "Herbert!
+What's the matter?"
+
+His voice sank almost to a whisper. "There's a plot to overthrow the
+government in California. I'm a part of it.... I don't know what to do."
+
+"You don't mean ... you're a traitor?" she asked unbelievably.
+
+"I suppose I am or must be--to some one," he said wearily. "I'm caught
+in a net, Mrs. Windham. Will you help me get out? Advise me ... as you
+did him. Oh, I know what you meant to Mr. Broderick. Your faith,
+your counsel!"
+
+"Please," said Alice sharply. "We won't speak of that. What can I do for
+YOU?"
+
+"I beg your pardon. I'm a thoughtless ass ... that's why I got into the
+pickle probably. They asked me to join...."
+
+"They? Who?" she asked. "Is he--Benito--?"
+
+"Oh, no, Benito's out of it completely. I'm a Southern boy, you know.
+That's why they let me in; a lot of them have money. A man we call 'The
+President' is our chief. And there's a committee of thirty, each of whom
+is pledged to organize a fighting force; a hundred men."
+
+Waters hesitated. "I took an oath to keep this all a secret ... but I'll
+trust you, Mrs. Windham. You've got to know something about it.... These
+men are hired desperadoes or adventurers. They know there's fighting to
+be done; they've no scruples.... Meanwhile they're well paid, ostensibly
+engaged in various peaceful occupations all around the bay. When our
+President gives the order they'll be massed--three thousand of 'em; well
+armed, drilled--professional fighters. You can see what'll happen...."
+
+"You mean they'll seize the forts ... deliver us to the enemy?" she
+spoke aghast.
+
+"I'm afraid you're right, Mrs. Windham."
+
+"Has your--ah--society approached General Johnson?"
+
+"Not yet--they're a little afraid of him."
+
+Alice Windham thought a moment. "When is your next meeting?"
+
+"Tomorrow. We are called by word of mouth. I've just received my
+summons."
+
+"Well, then," Alice told him, "make a motion--or whatever you call
+it--that the General be approached, sounded. They'll appoint a
+committee. They'll put you on it, of course. Thus you can apprise him of
+the plot without violating your oath. I don't believe he will aid you,
+for that means betraying his trust.... But if he should--come back to
+me. We will have to act quickly."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A fortnight passed. Alice had learned by adroit questioning that the
+federal army was a purely negligible defensive force.
+
+An attack would result in the easy plundering of this storehouse as well
+as the militia armories of San Francisco. Thus equipped, an army could
+be organized out of California's Southern sympathizers, who would beat
+down all resistance, loot the treasury of its gold and perhaps align the
+State with Slavery's Cause.
+
+Rebellion, civil warfare loomed with all its horrors. If the plot that
+Waters had described were carried through there would be bloodshed in
+the city. Her husband had gone to Sacramento on business. Suppose it
+came tonight!
+
+Anxiously Alice hovered near the cot where ten-year Robert slept.
+
+There came a knock at the door.
+
+"Who's there?" she asked, hand upon the bolt. Then, with an exclamation
+of relief, she opened it. Admitted Herbert Waters.
+
+He was smiling. "I took your advice.... It worked."
+
+She pushed a chair toward the hearth. "Sit there," she ordered. "Tell me
+all about it."
+
+Waters gazed into the fire half abstractedly. "Three of us were named,"
+he said, "to have a conference with General Johnson." He turned to her,
+his eyes aglow, "I'll never forget that meeting. He asked us to be
+seated with his usual courtesy. Then he said, quite matter-of-factly ...
+in an off-hand sort of way, 'There's something I want to mention before
+we go further. I've heard some foolish talk about attempts to seize the
+strongholds of the government under my charge. So I've prepared for all
+emergencies.' His eyes flashed as he added, 'I will defend the property
+of the United States with every resource at my command, with the last
+drop of blood in my body. Tell that to your Southern friends.'"
+
+"And your plot?"
+
+"It's been abandoned."
+
+"Thank God," Alice exclaimed fervently.
+
+"And thank yourself a little," he commented, smiling.
+
+"General Johnson is a brave and honorable gentleman," Alice said. "I
+wonder--who could have informed him?"
+
+Waters looked at her quickly. But he did not voice the thought upon his
+tongue.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+April 24 General E.V. Sumner arrived with orders to take charge of the
+department of the Pacific. General Johnson's resignation was already on
+its way to Washington.
+
+On the following morning came the news that Southern forces had attacked
+Fort Sumpter.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVI
+
+SOME WAR REACTIONS
+
+San Francisco adjusted itself to war conditions with its usual impulsive
+facility. Terry, who had resigned from the Supreme bench following
+Broderick's death, and who had passed through the technicalities of a
+farcical trial, left for Texas. He joined the Southern forces and for
+years California knew him no more. Albert Sydney Johnson, after being
+displaced by General Sumner, offered his services to Jefferson Davis and
+was killed at Shiloh. Edward Baker, now a Senator from Oregon, left the
+halls of Congress for a Union command. At the head of the California
+volunteer regiment he charged the enemy at Ball's Bluff and fell, his
+body pierced by half a dozen bullets. Curiously different was the record
+of Broderick's old foeman, William Gwin. In October, 1861, he started
+East via the Isthmus of Panama, accompanied by Calhoun Benham, one of
+Terry's seconds in the fateful duel. On the same steamer was General
+Sumner, relieved of his command in San Francisco, en route to active
+service. Convinced that Gwin and Benham plotted treason, he ordered
+their arrest, but not before they threw overboard maps and other papers.
+They escaped conviction. But Gwin found Paris safer than America--until
+the war had reached its close.
+
+When the first call came for volunteers by way of the pony express,
+Benito and Adrian talked of enlisting. Even thirteen-year Francisco, to
+his mother's horror, spoke of going as a drummer boy.
+
+"One would think you men asked nothing better than to kill each other,"
+Inez Windham stormed.
+
+Yet she was secretly proud. She would have felt a mite ashamed had
+Adrian displayed less martial ardor. And to her little son she showed
+the portrait of Francisco Garvez, who had ridden with Ortega and d'Anza
+in the days of Spanish glory.
+
+Lithographs of President Lincoln appeared in household and office. Flags
+flew from many staffs and windows. News was eagerly awaited from the
+battle-front.
+
+Adrian had been rejected by a recruiting board because of a slight limp.
+He had never quite recovered from a knife wound in the groin inflicted
+by McTurpin. Benito had been brusquely informed that his family needed
+him more than the Union cause at present. Still unsatisfied he found a
+substitute, an Englishman named Dart, who fell at Gettysburg, and to
+whose heirs in distant Liverpool he gladly paid $5000.
+
+But Herbert Waters went to war. Alice kissed the lad good-by and pinned
+a rosebud on his uniform as he departed on the steamer. Little Robert
+clung to him and wept when they were separated. Adrian, Benito and a
+host of others shook his hand.
+
+A whistle blew; he had to scamper for the gang-plank. The vessel moved
+slowly, turning in her course toward the Golden Gate. Men were waving
+their hats and weeping women their handkerchiefs. Alice stood misty eyed
+and moveless, till the steamer passed from sight.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Though one heard loud-chorused sentiments of Unionism, there were many
+secret friends of slavery in San Francisco. One felt them like an
+undercurrent, covert and disquieting. To determine where men stood, a
+public meeting had been called for May 11. Where Post ran into Market
+street, affording wide expanse for out-door gathering, a speaker's stand
+was built. Here the issues of war, it was announced, would be discussed
+by men of note.
+
+"Starr King, our pulpit Demosthenes, is to talk," Benito told his wife.
+"They tell me King's a power for the Union. He's so eloquent that even
+Southerners applaud him."
+
+They were interrupted by Po Lun, their Chinese servitor, who entered,
+leading Robert by the hand. The boy had a soldier cap, fashioned from
+newspaper by the ingenious celestial; it was embellished with plumes
+from a feather duster. A toy drum was suspended from his neck; the hilt
+of a play-time saber showed at his belt. The Chinaman carried a flag and
+both were marching in rhythmic step, which taxed the long legs of Po Lun
+severely by way of repression.
+
+"Where in the world are you two going?" Alice laughed.
+
+"We go public meeting, Missee," said Po Lun. "We hea' all same Miste'
+Stah King pleach-em 'bout Ablaham Lincoln."
+
+"Hurrah!" cried Benito with enthusiasm. "Let's go with them, Alice." He
+caught her about the waist and hurried her onward. Bareheaded, they ran
+out into the morning sunshine.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At Post and Market streets, thousands waited, though the day was young.
+Constantly the crowd increased. From all directions came pedestrians,
+horsemen, folks in carriages, buggies--all manner of vehicles, even farm
+wagons from the outlying districts. Most of them looked upon attendance
+as a test of loyalty. When it was learned that Governor Downey had sent
+his regrets a murmur of disapproval ran through the throng. He had been
+very popular in San Francisco, for he had vetoed the infamous Bulkhead
+bill, which planned to give private interests the control of the
+waterfront. He also pocketed a libel measure aimed at San Francisco's
+independent press. But in the national crisis--a time when political
+temporizing was not tolerated--he "did not believe that war should be
+waged upon any section of the Confederacy, nor that the Union should be
+preserved by a coercive policy."
+
+"I saw the letter," Adrian told Benito. "They were going to read it at
+first, but they decided not to. After all, the little Governor's not
+afraid to utter his thoughts."
+
+"I've more respect for him than for Latham," Windham answered. "He's to
+make a speech today. Only a few weeks ago he damned us up and down in
+Congress. Now he's for the Union. I despise a turn-coat."
+
+They were interrupted by a voice that made announcements from the
+platform.
+
+Starr King arose amid cheers. The preacher was a man of marvelous
+enthusiasm. His slight, frail figure gave small hint of his dynamic
+talents. He had come to California for rest and health. But in the
+maelstrom of pre-war politics, he found neither "dolce far niente" nor
+recuperation. He plunged without a thought of self into the fight for
+California.
+
+As he began to talk the crowd pressed forward, packed itself into a
+smaller ring. Medlied sounds of converse died into a silence, which was
+almost breathless.
+
+For an hour King went on discussing clearly, logically and deeply, all
+the issues of the Civil War; the attitude, responsibilities and
+influences of California, particularly San Francisco. He made no great
+emotional appeals; he dealt in no impassioned oratory nor invective.
+
+At the close there was a little pause, so deep the concentration of
+their listening, before the concourse broke into applause. Then it was
+hysteria, pandemonium. Hats flew in the air; whistles, cheers and bravos
+mingled. The striking of palm against palm was like a great volley.
+Again and again the preacher rose, bowed, retired. Finally he thanked
+them, called the meeting closed, and bade them a good afternoon. Only
+then the crowd began to melt. Fifty thousand people knew their city--and
+their State no doubt--were safe for anti-slavery.
+
+[Illustration: The concourse broke into applause. Then it was hysteria,
+pandemonium. Fifty thousand knew their city was safe for Anti-Slavery.]
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVII
+
+WATERS PAYS THE PRICE
+
+Months passed to a tune of fifes and drums. Everywhere men were
+drilling. At more or less regular intervals one saw them marching down
+Montgomery street, brave in their new uniforms, running a gauntlet of
+bunting, flags and cheers. Then they passed from one's ken. Each
+fortnight the San Francisco papers published a column of Deaths and
+Casualties.
+
+In due time a letter came from Herbert Waters, now a sergeant of his
+troop. Benito promptly closed his office for the afternoon and ran home
+with it; he read the missive, while Alice, Robert and Po Lun listened,
+eager-eyed and silent:
+
+"We have marched over historic ground, the trail of d'Anza, which
+Benito's forefathers broke in 1774. They say it is the hardest march
+that volunteer troops ever made and I can well believe it. There are no
+railroads; it was almost like exploring. Sometimes water holes are
+ninety miles apart. The desert is so hot that you in temperate San
+Francisco can't imagine it unless you think of Hell; and in the
+mountains we found snow up to our waists; were nearly frozen.
+
+"Apaches, Yumas, Navajos abound; they are cruel, treacherous fighters.
+We had some lively skirmishes with them. I received a poisoned arrow in
+my arm. But I sucked the wound and very soon, to everyone's surprise, it
+healed. There comes to me oft-times a strange conceit that I cannot be
+killed or even badly hurt ... until I have met Terry."
+
+There was a postscript written on a later date, proceeding from Fort
+Davis, Texas. Though the handwriting was less firm than the foregoing,
+there was a jubilance about the closing lines which even the Chinese
+felt. His eyes glowed with a battle spirit as Benito read:
+
+"My prayer has been answered. At least in part. I have met and fought
+with Broderick's assassin. It was in the battle for Fort Davis, which we
+wrested from the enemy, that he loomed suddenly before me, a great hulk
+of a man in a captain's uniform swinging his sword like a demon. I saw
+one of our men go down before him and then the battle press brought us
+together. It seemed almost like destiny. His sword was red and dripping,
+his horse was covered with foam. He looked at me with eyes that were
+insane--mad with the lust of killing; tried to plunge the blade into my
+neck. But I caught his wrist and held it. I shouted at him, for the
+noise was hideous, 'David Terry, I am Broderick's friend.' He went white
+at that. I let his wrist go and drew my own saber. I struck at him and
+the sparks flew from his countering weapon. My heart was leaping with a
+kind of joy. 'No trick pistols this time,' I cried. And I spat in
+his face.
+
+"But another's ball came to his rescue. I felt it, cold as ice and hot
+as fire in my lung. I made a wild slash at him as I fell; saw him wince,
+but ride away.... So, now I lie in a camp hospital. It has seemed a long
+time. But it is the fortune of war. Perhaps I shall see you soon."
+
+"It isn't signed," Benito seemed a trifle puzzled. Then he found, in
+back of Waters' lines, a final sheet in a strange handwriting. Hurriedly
+he rose, walked to the open door. Below, upon the bay, storm was
+brewing; it seemed mirrored in his eyes.
+
+"What is it, dear?" asked Alice following. He handed her the single
+sheet of paper.
+
+"Dead!" her tone was stunned, incredulous.
+
+Benito's arm around her, dumbly, they went out together. Rain was
+beginning to fall, but neither knew it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Several years of war made little change in San Francisco. The city
+furnished more than its quota of troops. The California Hundred, trained
+fighters and good horsemen, went to Massachusetts in 1862 and were
+assigned to the Second Cavalry. Later the California Battalion joined
+them. Both saw terrific fighting.
+
+But California furnished better than "man-power" to the struggle. Money,
+that all-important war-essential, streamed uninterruptedly from the
+coast-state mines to Washington. More than a hundred millions had
+already been sent--a sum which, in Confederate hands, might have turned
+the destiny of battle. California was loyal politically as well. Though
+badly treated by a remote, often unsympathetic government, she had
+scorned the plot to set up a "Pacific Republic" as the South had planned
+and hoped.
+
+Her secret service men were busy and astute, preventing filibustering
+plots and mail robberies. There was a constant feeling of uneasiness.
+San Francisco still housed too many Southern folk.
+
+Benito and Alice were dining with the Stanleys. Francisco and Robert
+were squatted on the hearth, poring over an illustrated book that had
+come from New York. It showed the uniforms of United States soldiers,
+the latest additions to the navy.
+
+"See," said Francisco, "here are pictures of Admiral Farragut and
+General Sherman." He was fifteen now and well above his father's
+shoulders. Robert, three years younger, looked up to admire his cousin.
+A smaller, more intellectual type of boy was Robert, with his mother's
+quiet sweetness and his father's fire.
+
+"Here's a picture of the fight between the Monitor and Merrimac," he
+cried interestedly, "When I grow up I shall join the navy and wear a
+cap with gold braid, like Farragut."
+
+"And I shall be a lawyer ... maybe a Senator or President," said
+Francisco, with importance.
+
+The men, talking politics over their cigars, did not hear this converse,
+but the women looked down at their sons, smiling fondly. "Yesterday
+Robert announced that he would be a poet," Alice confided. "He saw his
+father writing verses in a book."
+
+"And tomorrow he will want to be an inventor or a steam-boat captain,"
+Inez answered. "'Tis the way with boys.... Mine is getting so big--I'm
+afraid he'll be going to war."
+
+Po Lun interrupted their further confidences. He rushed in breathless,
+unannounced. "Misstah Windham," he spoke to Benito. "One man wanchee see
+you quick in Chinatown.... He allee same plitty soon die. He say you
+sabe him. His name McTu'pin."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVIII
+
+McTURPIN TURNS INFORMER
+
+Benito stared, bewildered, at the Chinaman. "McTurpin dying? Wants to
+see me?"
+
+Po Lun nodded. "He send-um China boy you' house. He wait outside."
+
+Benito rose. Alice laid detaining fingers on his arm. "Don't go ... it's
+just a ruse. You know McTurpin."
+
+"The time is past when he can injure me," he answered gravely.
+"Something tells me it is right--to go." He kissed her, disengaged her
+arms about him gently, and went out. Adrian signaled to the Chinese.
+"Follow him...."
+
+Po Lun nodded understandingly.
+
+A shuffling figure, face concealed beneath a broad-brimmed hat, hands
+tucked each within the opposite sleeve, awaited Windham just outside the
+door. He set out immediately in an easterly direction, glancing over his
+shoulder now and again to make certain that Benito followed. Down the
+steep slope of Washington street he went past moss-grown retaining
+walls; over slippery brick pavements, through which the grass-blades
+sprouted, to plunge at length into the eddying alien mass of Chinatown's
+main artery, Dupont street. Here rushing human counter-currents ebbed
+and flowed ceaslessly. Burdens of all sizes and of infinite variety
+swept by on swaying shoulder yokes.
+
+Benito's guide paused momentarily on the farther side of Dupont street.
+Then, with a beckoning gesture, he dived into a narrow alley. Benito,
+following, found himself before the entrance of a cellarway. As he
+halted, iron trapdoors opened toward him, revealing a short flight of
+steps. The Chinese motioned him to descend, but the lawyer hesitated
+with a sudden sense of trepidation. Beneath the pavement in this
+cul-de-sac of Chinatown, he would be hidden from the world, from friends
+or rescue, as securely as though he were at the bottom of the bay.
+
+But he squared his shoulders and went down. A door opened noiselessly
+and closed, leaving him in total darkness. A lantern glimmered and he
+followed it along a narrow passage that had many unexpected turns. An
+odor, pungent, acrid, semi-aromatic troubled his nostrils. It increased
+until the lantern-bearing Chinese ushered him into a large square room,
+lined with bunks, three-deep, like the forecastle of a ship. In each lay
+two Chinese, face to face. They drew at intervals deep inhalations from
+a thick bamboo pipe, relaxing, thereupon into a sort of stupored dream.
+The place reeked with the fumes that had assailed Benito in the passage.
+Intuitively he knew that it was opium.
+
+A voice in English, faint and dreamy, reached him. "This way ... Mr.
+Windham.... Please."
+
+A white almost-skeleton hand stretched toward him from a lower bunk. A
+bearded face, cadaverously sunken, in which gleamed bright fevered eyes,
+was now discernible.
+
+"McTurpin!" he spoke incredulously.
+
+"What's left of me," the tone was hollow, grim. "Please sit down here,
+close to me.... I've something to tell you.... Something that will--"
+
+He sank back weakly, but his eyes implored. Benito took a seat beside
+the bunk. For a moment he thought the man was dead. He lay so limp,
+so silent!
+
+Then McTurpin whispered. "Bend closer. I will tell you how to serve your
+country.... There's a schooner called the 'J.M. Chapman.' Do you know
+where it lies?"
+
+"No," Benito answered, "but that's easily discovered. If you've anything
+to say--go on."
+
+McTurpin's bony fingers clutched Benito's sleeve. "Listen," he said.
+"Bend nearer."
+
+His voice droned on, at times imperceptible, again hoarse with
+excitement. Benito sat moveless, absorbed.
+
+Above the iron-trap doors Po Lun waited patiently.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In an unlighted alley back of the American Exchange Hotel two figures
+waited, as if by appointment on the night of March 14. One was Ashbury
+Harpending, a young Southerner, and one of the Committee of Thirty
+which, several years before, had hatched an unsuccessful plot to capture
+California for the hosts of slavery. The other was an English boy named
+Alfred Rubery, large, good-looking, adventurous, nephew of the great
+London publicist, John Bright. It was he who spoke first in a guarded
+undertone:
+
+"Is everything ready--safe?"
+
+"Far as I can tell," responded Harpending.
+
+"How many men d'you get?" asked Rubery.
+
+"Twenty ... that's enough. We'll pick up more at Manzanillo. There we'll
+dress the Chapman into fighting trim, set up our guns aboard and capture
+the first Pacific Mail liner with gold out of California."
+
+"You're a clever fellow, Harpending. How'd you get those guns aboard
+without suspicion?"
+
+"Through a Mexican friend," replied Harpending. "He said he needed them
+to protect his mine in South America. Besides, we've a large assortment
+of rifles, revolvers, cutlasses. They're boxed and marked 'machinery.'"
+
+Further talk was interrupted by a group of men who approached, saluted,
+gave a whispered countersign. Others came, still others till the quota
+of a full score had arrived. At Harpending's command they separated to
+avoid attention. Silently they slipped through dimly-lighted streets,
+past roaring saloons and sailors' boarding houses to an unfrequented
+portion of the waterfront. There the trim black silhouetted shape of
+the schooner Chapman loomed against a cloudy sky.
+
+At the rail stood Ridgely Greathouse, big, florid, his burnside whiskers
+twitching.
+
+"Where the devil's Law?" he bellowed. "Lord Almighty! Here it's nearly
+midnight and no captain."
+
+"He's not with us," said Harpending quietly. But his face paled.
+Navigator William Law was the only one of whom he had a doubt. But the
+men must not suspect. "Law will be along soon," he added. "Let us all
+get aboard and make ready to sail."
+
+The men followed him and went below. Harpending, Greathouse and Rubery
+paced the deck. "He's drunk probably," commented Greathouse savagely.
+
+"Tut! Tut!" cried Rubery, "let us have no croaking." But at two o'clock,
+the navigator had not shown his face. They could not sail without a
+captain. Wearily they went below and left a sentinel on watch. He was a
+young man who had eaten heavily and drunk to even more excess. For a
+time he paced the deck conscientiously. Then he sat down, leaned against
+a spar and smoked. After a while the pipe fell from his
+listless fingers.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Ahoy, schooner Chapman!"
+
+The sleeping sentinel stirred languidly. He stretched himself, yawned,
+rose in splendid leisure. Then a shout broke from him. Like a frightened
+rabbit he dived through the hatchway, yelling at the top of his lungs.
+
+"The police! The police!"
+
+Harpending was up first. Pell mell, Rubery and Greathouse followed. A
+couple of hundred yards away they looked into the trained guns of the
+Federal warship Cyane. Several boatloads of officers and marines were
+leaving her side. From the San Francisco waterfront a police tug bore
+down on the Chapman.
+
+Greathouse stumbled back into the cabin. "Quick, destroy the evidence,"
+he shouted.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIX
+
+THE COMSTOCK FURORE
+
+Press reports gave full and wide sensation to the capture of the
+"Chapman." Chief Lees took every credit for the thwarting of a "Plot of
+Southern Pirates" who "Conspired to Prey Upon the Golden Galleons From
+California." Thus the headlines put it. And Benito was relieved to find
+no mention of himself. Harpending he knew and liked, despite his
+Southern sympathies; Rubery he had met; an English lad, high-spirited
+and well connected. In fact, John Bright soon had his errant nephew out
+of jail. And when, a few months later, Harpending and Greathouse were
+released, Benito deemed the story happily ended. He heard nothing from
+McTurpin. No doubt the fellow was dead.
+
+That troublesome proclivity of wooing chance was uppermost again in
+Windham's mind. It was only natural perhaps, for all of San Francisco
+gambled now in mining stocks. The brokers swarmed like bees along
+Montgomery street; every window had its shelf of quartz and nuggets
+interspersed with pictures of the "workings" at Virginia City. It was
+Nevada now that held the treasure-seeker's eye.
+
+Within a year it had produced six millions. Scores of miners staked
+their claims upon or near the Comstock lode and most of them sought
+capital in San Francisco. Washerwomen, bankers, teamsters--every class
+was bitten by the microbe of hysterical investment. Some had made great
+fortunes; none apparently thus far had lost.
+
+In front of Flood and O'Brien's saloon a hand fell heartily upon
+Benito's shoulder. "Come in and have a drink," James Lick invited.
+
+Lick had "made a pile" of late. He was building a big hotel on
+Montgomery street; was recognized as one of San Francisco's financiers.
+He took Benito by the arm. "We've got to celebrate. I've made ten
+thousand on my Ophir shares. Carrying any mining stock, Benito?"
+
+"No," retorted Windham. He suffered Lick to lead him to the bar. Will
+O'Brien, a shrewd-faced merry Irishman, took their orders. He and Flood
+had bought an interest in Virginia City ... "a few fate only, but it's
+goin' t' make us rich, me lad," he said enthusiastically as he set their
+glasses out upon the bar. "We'll all be nabobs soon. Ain't that the
+God's truth, Mr. Ralston?"
+
+"Sure, my boy," a deep voice answered heartily. Windham turned and saw a
+man of forty, tall, well-molded, with a smiling forceful countenance. He
+seemed to smack of large affairs.
+
+Benito sipped his liquor, listening absorbedly while Ralston rattled off
+facts, figures, prospects in connection with the Comstock lode.
+
+"The Nevada mines will pay big," Benito heard him tell a group of
+bearded men who hung upon his utterances. "BIG! You can bet your bottom
+dollar on it. If you've money, don't let it stay idle."
+
+Benito bade his friend good-bye and went out, thinking deeply. He
+wondered what Alice would say if....
+
+Nesbitt of The Bulletin interrupted his musing. "Heard the news, Benito?
+We're to have a stock exchange next month."
+
+"The brokers are opposed to it. They don't want staple values, because,
+now and then, they can pick up a bargain or drive a hard trade. And they
+can peddle 'wildcat' stocks to tenderfeet.... We must stop that sort
+of thing."
+
+"Quite so," said Windham vaguely comprehending. Nesbitt babbled on.
+"There are to be forty charter members, with a fund of $2000."
+
+He took a pencil from his pocket. Tapped Benito's shirt front with it.
+"Buy a little Gould and Curry.... I've just had a tip that it will
+rise." He hurried on.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Windham let his clients wait that afternoon. He took a walk toward Twin
+Peaks on Market street. That lordly, though neglected, thoroughfare
+began to make pretensions toward commercial activity. Opposite
+Montgomery street was St. Ignatius Church. Farther down toward the docks
+were lumber yards and to the west were little shops, mostly one-storied,
+widely scattered. Chinese laundries, a livery stable or two. The
+pavements were stretches of boardwalk interspersed with sand or mud,
+trodden into passable trails. Down the broad center ran a track on which
+for years a dummy engine had labored back and forth, drawing flat cars
+laden with sand. Now most of the sand hills were leveled above Kearny
+street. Benito picked his way along the northern side of Market street
+till he came to Hayes. There the new horse car line ran to Hayes park.
+One was just leaving as he reached the corner, so he hopped aboard. As
+the driver took his fare he nodded cordially. Benito recognized him as a
+former client.
+
+"Listen," said the fellow, "you did me a good turn once, Mr. Windham.
+Now I'll return the compliment." He leaned nearer, whispered. "Buy some
+Hale and Norcross mining stock. I've got a tip straight from the
+president. It's going up."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the spring of '64, Virginia City mines still yielded treasure
+harvests unbelievable. Windham's bank account had risen to the
+quarter-million mark. Month by month he watched his assets grow by leaps
+more marvelous than even his romantic fancy could fore-vision. Stocks
+were climbing at a rate which raised the value of each share $100 every
+thirty days.
+
+San Francisco's Stock and Exchange Board, the leading of the three such
+institutions, had quarters in the Montgomery block. Electric
+telegraphs, which flashed its stock quotations round the world, made it
+a money power in London, Paris and New York.
+
+Benito had a home now in South Park, the city's new, exclusive residence
+section. From there the Omnibus Street Railway Company, in which he was
+a large stockholder, operated horse cars to North Beach. He wore a high
+hat now and spectacles. There were touches of gray in his hair.
+
+As he entered the exchange, a nimble-fingered Morse-operator was marking
+figures on a blackboard.
+
+Windham heard his name called; turning, met the outstretched hand of
+William Ralston. They chatted for a time on current matters. There was
+to be a Merchants' Exchange. Already ground was broken for the building.
+The Bank of California, one of Ralston's enterprises, would soon open
+its doors. Ralston was in a dozen ventures, all of them constructive,
+public spirited. He counted his friends by the hundreds. Suddenly he
+turned from contemplation of the blackboard to Benito.
+
+"Carrying much Virginia City nowadays?"
+
+Benito told him. Ralston knit his brow, deliberating. Then he said with
+crisp decision, "Better start unloading soon, my son."
+
+Benito was surprised; expostulated. Ophir, Gould and Curry, Savage were
+as steady as a rock. He didn't want to lose a "bag of money." Ralston
+heard him, nodded curtly, walked away. Disturbed, rebellious, Benito
+quit the place. He wanted quiet to digest the older man's advice.
+Ralston had the name of making few mistakes. Restlessly Benito sought an
+answer to his problem. In the end he went home undecided and retired
+dinnerless, explaining that he had a headache. He awoke with a fever the
+next morning. Alice, frightened by his haggard eyes, sent Po Lun for
+a doctor.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LX
+
+THE SHATTERED BUBBLE
+
+Benito looked up from his pillows, tried to rise and found that he had
+not the strength. Someone was holding his wrist. Oh, yes, Dr. Beverly
+Cole. Behind him stood Alice and Robert.... How tall the boy looked
+beside his little mother! They seemed to be tired, worried. And Alice
+had tears in her eyes.
+
+He heard the doctor's voice afar off, saying, "Yes, he'll live. The
+danger's over--barring complications." Once more his senses
+drifted, slept.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the morning Po Lun brought a cup of broth and fed him with a spoon.
+
+"Long time you been plenty sick," the Chinaman replied to his
+interrogation.
+
+"Where's Alice?"
+
+"She go 'sleep 'bout daylight.... She plenty ti'ed. Ebely night she sit
+up while you talk clazy talk."
+
+"You mean I've been delirious, Po Lun?"
+
+The Chinese nodded. "You get well now plitty soon," he said soothingly
+and, with the empty cup, stole softly out. After a time Alice came,
+rejoiced to find him awake. The boy, on his way to school, poked a
+bright morning face in at the door and called out, "Hello, dad! Better,
+ain't you?"
+
+"Yes, Robert," said Benito. When the boy had gone he turned to Alice.
+"How long have I been ill?"
+
+"Less than a fortnight--though it seems an age." She took his hand and
+cried a little. But they were happy tears. He stroked her hair with a
+hand that seemed strangely heavy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Three weeks later, hollow-eyed, a little shaky, but eager to be back at
+work, Benito returned to his office. A press of work engaged him through
+the morning hours. But at noon, he wandered out into the bright June
+sunshine, walking about and greeting old friends. At the Russ House
+Cafe, where he lunched, William Ralston greeted him cordially.
+
+"How is the war going?" Windham asked. "I've been laid up for a
+month--rather out of the running."
+
+"Well, they're devilish hard fighters, those Confederates. And Lee's a
+master strategist.... But we've the money, Windham. That's what counts.
+The Union owes a lot to California and Nevada."
+
+"Nevada!" with the word came sudden recollection. "That reminds me,
+Ralston.... How are stocks?"
+
+But the banker, with a muttered excuse hastened off.
+
+Benito finished his coffee, smoked a cigarette and made his way again
+into the street.
+
+Presently he went into the stock exchange, almost deserted now, after
+the close of the morning session. O'Brien was there, smoking a long
+black cigar and chatting in his boisterous, confidential way with Asbury
+Harpending. The latter was babbling in real estate.
+
+"Hullo, Windham!" he greeted. "You don't look very fit.... Been ill?"
+
+"Yes," Benito told him. "Laid up since the last of May. What's new?"
+
+"Nothing much--since the bottom dropped out of Comstock."
+
+Instinctively Benito's hand went out toward a chair. He sank into it
+weakly. So that was the explanation of Ralston's swift departure.
+
+He felt the men's eyes upon him as he walked unsteadily to the files and
+scanned them. Ophir stock had dropped 50 per cent. Gould and Curry was
+even lower. Benito closed the book and walked blindly out of
+the exchange.
+
+After a time he heard footsteps following. Harpending's voice came,
+"Hey, there, Windham." Benito turned.
+
+"Cleaned out?" asked the other sympathetically.
+
+"Not--quite."
+
+"Then forget the stocks. They're tricky things at best.... I've a
+proposition that's a winner. Positively.... There's law work to be done.
+We need you."
+
+"Montgomery Street Straight" was the plan. It was to be extended across
+Market street either in a straight line or at an easy angle--over all
+obstructions to the bay.
+
+"But such a scheme would involve millions," Benito objected. "It would
+cut through the Latham and Parrott homes for instance.... Old Senator
+Latham would hold you up for a prohibitive price. And Parrott would
+fight you to a finish."
+
+"Quite right," returned Harpending. "That's where you come in, Benito.
+We want you to draw us a bill and lobby it through the Legislature...."
+
+"The thing is to make it a law. Then the Governor must appoint a
+commission. The Latham and Parrott properties will be condemned and we
+can acquire them at a fair price."
+
+"Very well," Benito answered. "It's a go."
+
+Several days after his talk with Harpending, Benito met Adrian and
+Francisco, the latter a tall, gangling lad of sixteen. Father and son
+were talking animatedly, discussing some point on which Francisco seemed
+determined to have his way.
+
+"What d'ye think of this youngster of mine?" Stanley questioned.
+"Scarcely out of short pants and wants to be a newspaper man! I say he
+should go to school a few years more ... to one of those Eastern
+colleges you hear so much about. I've the money. He doesn't need to
+work.... Talk to him, Benito. Make him listen to sense."
+
+"I don't wish to go East, Uncle Ben," said Francisco. "What good will
+it do me to learn Latin and Greek.... Higher mathematics and social
+snobbery? I want to get to work. Calvin McDonald's offered me a job on
+The American Flag."
+
+"What will you do? Write editorials or poetry?" his father asked.
+
+Francisco flushed. "I'll be a copy boy to start with.... And there's no
+harm in writing poetry. Uncle Ben does it himself."
+
+It was Benito's turn to redden. "Better let the boy have his way," he
+said hastily. "Journalism's quite an education in itself."
+
+"So, you're against me, too! Well, well. I'll see about it."
+
+They shook hands good-humoredly, the boy beaming. Afterward news reached
+Benito that young Stanley was a member of McDonald's staff.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In 1865 there came the joyous news of victory and peace. The Democratic
+Press accepted Lee's surrender sullenly, printing now and then a covert
+sneer at Grant or Lincoln. Enmity died hard in Southern breasts.
+
+One morning as he came to town Benito saw a crowd of angry and excited
+men running down Montgomery street. Some of them brandished canes. "Down
+with Copperheads," they were shouting. Presently he heard a crash of
+glass, a cry of protest. Then a door gave with a splintering sound. The
+crowd rushed through, into the offices and print rooms of the
+Democratic Press.
+
+There was more noise of wreckage and destruction. Broken chairs, tables,
+typecases, bits of machinery hurtled into the street. Benito grasped the
+arm of a man who was hurrying by. "What's wrong?" he asked.
+
+The other turned a flushed and angry mien toward him. "God Almighty!
+Haven't you heard? President Lincoln was shot last night ... by a
+brother of Ed Booth, the actor.... They say he's dying." He picked up a
+stone and hurled it at an upper window of the Press.
+
+"We'll show these traitor-dogs a thing or two," he called. "Come on,
+boys, let's wreck the place!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXI
+
+DESPERATE FINANCE
+
+The publishers of the Democratic Press had their lesson. In a city
+draped with black for a beloved President, they swept up the glass of
+their shattered windows, picked up what remained of scattered type,
+reassembled machinery and furniture--and experienced a change of heart.
+Presently The Examiner burgeoned from that stricken journalistic root.
+
+Francisco was now a member of the Alta staff, the aggressive but
+short-lived American Flag, having ceased publication several years after
+the war. Adrian admitted to Benito that the boy had justified his bent
+for journalistic work.
+
+"The young rascal's articles are attracting attention. He even signs
+some of them; now and then they print one of his verses--generally a
+satire on local events. And he gets passes to all of the theaters. Inez
+and I are going to 'Camille' tonight."
+
+"So are Alice and myself, by a coincidence." Benito lighted a cigar and
+puffed a moment; then he added, "Do you know what that boy of mine
+proposes to do?"
+
+"No," said Adrian. "Become an actor--or a politician?"
+
+"Well, it's almost as bad.... He wants to be a letter carrier.... The
+new free delivery routes will be established soon, you know."
+
+"Yes, the town's growing," commented Stanley. "Well, you'd better let
+young Robert have his way. He's almost as big as you.... How is
+'Montgomery Straight' progressing?"
+
+"Fairly well," returned Benito. "Latham and Parrott are fighting us as
+we expected. But Harpending's acquired Selim Woodworth's lot on Market
+street, just where Montgomery will cut through." He laughed. "Selim
+wanted half a million for it.... He'd have got it in a day or two
+because we had to have the property. But along comes an earthquake and
+literally shakes $350,000 out of Woodworth's pockets. Frightened him so
+badly that he sold for $150,000 and was glad to get it."
+
+"Well, even earthquakes have their uses," Adrian smiled. "Here comes
+Francisco. I'll have him see Maguire and arrange it so that we can sit
+together at the show."
+
+"Who is the lanky fellow with him?" asked Benito. "Looks as if he would
+appreciate a joke."
+
+"Oh, that's his friend, Sam Clemens," Adrian answered. "An improvident
+cuss but good company. He writes for the Carson Appeal under the name of
+Mark Twain."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Benito, that afternoon, was closeted with Harpending and Ralston in the
+Bank of California. The financier, who was backing the Montgomery street
+venture, regarded Harpending a trifle quizzically. "Once," he said, "you
+tried to be a pirate, Asbury.... Oh, no offense," he laid a soothing
+hand upon the other's knee. "But tonight I need a desperate man such as
+you. Another like Benito. We're going to raid the Mint."
+
+"What?" cried Windham, startled.
+
+"You'll need steadier nerves than that for our enterprise." Ralston
+passed his cigar case to the two men, saw them puffing equably ere he
+continued. "You know how tight the money situation has become because
+President Grant declines to let us exchange our gold bars for coin. With
+eight tons of gold in our vault we almost had a run this afternoon....
+Now, that's ridiculous." His fist smote the table. "Grant doesn't know
+the ropes.... But that's no reason why Hell should break loose
+tomorrow morning."
+
+"What are you going to do?" Benito asked.
+
+"Use my common sense--and save the banks," said Ralston shortly. "You
+two must meet me here this evening. Soon as it's dark. You'll have a
+hard night's work. My friend Dore will be there also. Can you suggest
+anyone else--absolutely to be trusted, who will ask no questions?"
+
+"My son," Benito answered; "Robert likes work. He wants to be a
+postal-carrier."
+
+"Bring him by all means," said Ralston. "If he helps us out tonight,
+I'll see that he gets anything he wants in San Francisco."
+
+He was boyishly eager; full of excited plans for his daring scheme. The
+two men left him chuckling as he bit the end off a fresh cigar.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was nearly nine o'clock when they left the Bank of California.
+Theater-going crowds were housed at the play; the streets were
+extraordinarily silent as the quintet made their way toward the Mint.
+Robert was breathing hard. The dark streets, the mysterious Empire
+ahead, the hint of danger and a mighty stake distilled a toxic and
+exhilarating fever in his blood. As the pillared front of the federal
+treasure house loomed up before them, Ralston made a sign for them to
+halt, advancing cautiously. With astonishment they saw him pass through
+the usually guarded door and disappear. Presently he emerged with
+two sacks.
+
+"Robert and Benito, take these to the bank," he whispered. "The watchmen
+there will give you the equivalent in gold bars to bring back." He
+turned to Harpending and Dore. "I'll have yours ready in a minute." Once
+more he vanished within.
+
+Robert picked up the bag allotted to him. It was very heavy. As he
+lifted it to his shoulder, the contents clinked.
+
+"Gold coin," said his father, significantly.
+
+"What if we're caught?" asked the boy, half fearfully. Ralston,
+reappearing, heard the question.
+
+"You won't be," he said. "I've attended to that."
+
+His assurance proved correct. All night the four men toiled between the
+Mint and the Bank of California sweating, puffing, fatigued to the brink
+of exhaustion. With the first streak of dawn, Ralston dismissed them.
+
+"You've brought five ton of gold coin to the vault," he said, his eyes
+agleam. "You've saved San Francisco the worst financial panic that ever
+a short-sighted federal government unwittingly precipitated." Suddenly
+he laughed and threw his arms wide. "At ten o'clock the frightened sheep
+will come running for their deposits.... Well, let 'em come."
+
+"And now you boys go home and get some sleep. By the Eternal, you
+deserve it!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXII
+
+ADOLPH SUTRO'S TUNNEL
+
+William C. Ralston's Bank of California had become the great financial
+institution of the West. Ralston was the Rothschild of America. Through
+him Central Pacific Railway promoters borrowed $3,000,000 with less
+formality than a country banker uses in mortgaging of a ten-acre farm.
+Two millions took their unobtrusive wing to South America, financing
+mines he had never seen. In Virginia City William Sharon directed a
+branch of the Bank of California and kept his eye on mineral investment.
+Benito sat in Ralston's office one morning, smoking and discussing the
+Montgomery street problem when a clerk tapped at the door.
+
+"A fellow's out here from Virginia City," he said nervously. "Wants to
+see you quickly 'and no bones about it.' That's what he told me."
+
+"All right, send him in," said Ralston laughing. "Stay, Benito. He won't
+take a minute...." Ere he finished there stalked in a wild-eyed
+individual clad in boots, the slouch hat of the mining man, a suit of
+handsome broadcloth, mud-bespattered and a heavy golden watch chain with
+the usual nugget charm. He was a clean-cat type of mining speculator
+from Nevada.
+
+"Sit down," invited Ralston. "Have a smoke."
+
+The intruder glared at Windham; then he eased himself uncomfortably into
+a spacious leather-covered seat, bit off the end of a cigar,
+half-viciously and, having found the cuspidor, began.
+
+"I've something for your ear alone, Bill Ralston...."
+
+"Meet Benito Windham," Ralston introduced. "Speak out. I have no
+secrets from my friends."
+
+The other hemmed and hawed. He seemed averse to putting into words some
+thought which troubled him beyond repression. "Do you know," he burst
+out finally, "that your partner, Sharon, has become the most incurable
+and dissolute gambler in Nevada?"
+
+"You don't say." Ralston did not seem as shocked as one might have
+expected. "Well, my friend, that sounds quite serious.... What's poor
+Bill's particular kind of--vice?"
+
+"Poker," said the visitor. "By the Eternal, that man Sharon would stake
+his immortal soul on a four-card flush and never bat an eye. Time and
+time again I've seen it."
+
+Ralston leaned back comfortably, his folded hands across his middle. His
+speculative stare was on a marble statue. At length he spoke. "Does
+Sharon win or lose?"
+
+"Well," the other man admitted, "I must say he wins...."
+
+"Then he's just the man I want," Ralston spoke with emphasis. He rose,
+held out his hand toward the flustered visitor. "Thanks for telling
+me.... And now we'll all go for a drink together."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"That's Bill Ralston!" said Benito to his wife. They laughed about the
+anecdote which Windham had related at the dinner table. Robert, in his
+new letter-carrier's uniform, spoke up. "I saw him at the bank this
+afternoon.... There was a letter from Virginia City and he kept me
+waiting till he opened it. Then he slapped me on the shoulder. 'If the
+contents of that letter had been known to certain people, son,' he told
+me, 'they'd have cleaned up a fortune on the information.' Then he
+handed me a gold-piece. But I wouldn't take it. 'Don't be proud,' he
+said and poked me in the ribs. 'And don't forget that Bill Ralston's
+your friend.'"
+
+"Everybody calls him 'Bill,'" his mother added. "Washerwomen,
+teamsters, beggars, millionaires. If ever there was a friend of the
+people it is he."
+
+"Some day, though, he'll overplay his game," Benito prophesied.
+
+Ralston had been euchered out of a railroad to Eureka, planned by
+Harpending and himself and opposed by the Big Four; "Montgomery to the
+Bay" was meeting with a host of difficulties; the Grand Hotel was
+building and Kearny street, where he owned property, was being widened.
+Ralston's genial countenance showed sometimes a little strained pucker
+between the eyes.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Now and then Benito met a man named Adolph Sutro. They called him "The
+Man With a Dream." Stocky, under average height, intensely businesslike,
+he was--a German Burgomeister type, with Burnside whiskers and a
+purpose. He proposed to drive a tunnel four miles long from Carson
+valley, and strike the Comstock levels 1800 feet below the surface.
+
+An English syndicate was backing him. The work was going on.
+
+Much of Sutro's time was spent in Virginia City, superintending the work
+on his tunnel. But he fell into the habit of finding Benito whenever he
+came to town--dragging him from home with awkward but sincere
+apologies to Alice.
+
+"You will lend me your husband, Hein?" he would say. "I like to tell him
+of my fancies, for he understands ... the others laugh at me."
+
+Alice smiled into his broad, good humored face. "That's very silly of
+them."
+
+"Donnerwetter! Some day they will laugh the other way around," he
+threatened.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Benito and Sutro usually drove or rode through the Presidio and out
+along a road which skirted cliffs and terminated at the Seal Rock House.
+There they dined and watched the seals disporting on some sea-drenched
+rocks, a stone's throw distant. And there Sutro indulged in more dreams.
+
+"Some day I shall purchase that headland and build me a home ... and
+farther inland I shall grow a forest out of eucalyptus trees. They come
+from Australia.... One can buy them cheap enough.... They grow fast like
+bamboo in the Tropics." He clapped a hand upon Benito's knee. "I shall
+call it Mount Parnassus."
+
+Benito tried to smile appreciatively. He felt rather dubious about the
+scheme. But he liked to see the other's quiet eyes flash with an
+unexpected fire. Perhaps his genius might indeed reclaim this desolate
+region. Inward from the beach lay the waste of sand-hills known as
+Golden Gate Park. There was talk among the real estate visionaries of
+making it a pleasure ground.
+
+So regularly did they end their outings with a dinner at the Seal Rock
+House that Alice always knew where to find her husband in case some
+clamorous client sought Benito's aid. And tonight as an attendant called
+his name he answered with no other thought than that he would be asked
+to make a will or soothe some jealous and importunate wife who wanted a
+divorce without delay. They usually did want them that way. He rose,
+leisurely enough, and made his way to the door. There, instead of the
+usual messenger boy, stood Alice.
+
+"You must come at once," she panted. "Robert has been robbed of an
+important letter to the bank. They talk of arresting him.... Ralston
+wants you at his office."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIII
+
+LEES SOLVES A MYSTERY
+
+In the president's office at the Bank of California, Benito found his
+son, pale but intrepid. He was being questioned by William Sharon and a
+postoffice inspector. Ralston, hands crammed into trousers pockets,
+paced the room disturbedly.
+
+"You admit, then, that the envelope was given you?" Sharon was asking
+truculently as Benito entered.
+
+"Yes," said Robert, "I remember seeing such a letter as I packed my
+mail."
+
+"Humph!" exclaimed Sharon. He seemed about to ask another question, but
+the postal official anticipated him. "Explain what happened after you
+left the mail station."
+
+"Nothing much ... I walked up Washington street as usual. On the edge of
+Chinatown a woman stopped me ... asked me how to get to Market street."
+
+"Is that all?"
+
+"Yes, that's all," said Robert. "She seemed confused by our criss-cross
+streets. I had to tell her several times ... to point the way before she
+understood."
+
+"And nothing else happened?"
+
+"Nothing else--except that Mr. Ralston asked me for the letter. Said he
+was expecting it.... I searched my bag but couldn't find it."
+
+"Tell us more about this woman. Give us a description of her."
+
+"Spanish type," said Robert tersely. "Very pleasant; smiled a lot and
+had gold fillings in her teeth. Must have been quite handsome when she
+was young."
+
+The inspector stroked his chin reflectively. "Didn't set the bag down,
+did you? ... when you pointed out the way, for instance?"
+
+"Let me see.... Why, yes--I did. I hadn't thought of that...."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Captain of Detectives I.W. Lees was making a record for himself among
+the nation's crime-detectors. He was a swarthy little man, implacable as
+an Indian and as pertinacious on a trail. He never forgot a face and no
+amount of disguise could hide its identity from his penetrating glance.
+Without great vision or imagination, he knew criminals as did few other
+men; could reason from cause to effect within certain channels,
+unerringly. He was heartless, ruthless--some said venal. But he caught
+and convicted felons, solved the problems of his office by a dogged
+perseverance that ignored defeat. For, with a mind essentially tricky,
+he anticipated tricksters--unless their operations were beyond
+his scope.
+
+It was 10 o'clock at night, but he was still at work upon a case which,
+up to now, had baffled him--a case of opium smuggling--when Robert and
+Benito entered. At first he listened to them inattentively. But at
+Robert's story of the woman, he became electrified.
+
+"Rose Terranza! Dance hall girl back in the Eldorado days! Queen of the
+Night Life under half a dozen names! Smiling Rose, some called her. Good
+clothes and gold in her teeth! I've her picture--wait a minute." He
+pulled a cord; a bell jangled somewhere. An officer entered.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Chinatown at midnight. Dark and narrow streets; fat, round paper
+lanterns here and there above dim doorways; silent forms,
+soft-shuffling, warily alert.
+
+"Wait one minee," said Po Lun. "I find 'em door."
+
+Following the Chinaman were Captain Lees, with his half a dozen "plain
+clothes men," Benito, Robert and the mail inspector. Presently Po spoke
+again. "Jus' alound co'ne'" (corner), he whispered. "Me go ahead. Plitty
+soon you come. You hea' me makem noise ... allee same cat."
+
+Lees descried him as he paused before a dimly lighted door. Evidently he
+was challenged; gave a countersign. For the door swung back. Po Lun
+passed through. Nothing happened for a time. Then a piercing feline wail
+stabbed through the night.
+
+"M-i-i-a-o-w-r-r-r!"
+
+Lees sprang forward, pressed his weight against the partly-open portal;
+flashed his dark lantern on two figures struggling violently. His hand
+fell on the collar of Po Lun's antagonist; a policeman's "billy" cracked
+upon his skull. "Tie and gag him," said the captain. "Leave a man on
+guard.... The rest of you come on."
+
+Po Lun leading, they went, single file through utter blackness. Now and
+then the white disc of Lees' lantern, now in Po Lun's hand, gleamed like
+a guiding will-o-wisp upon the tortuous path.
+
+Suddenly Benito felt the presence of new personalities. They seemed to
+be in a room with other people. Several dark lamps flashed at Po Lun's
+signal. They revealed a room sumptuously furnished. Teakwood chairs,
+with red embroidered backs and cushions, stood about the walls. Handsome
+gilded grillwork screened a boudoir worthy of a queen. Clad in the
+laciest of robes de chambre, a dark-skinned woman sat on the edge of a
+canopied bed. She was past her first youth, but still of remarkable
+beauty. At the foot of the bed stood McTurpin--pale ghost of his former
+self. He looked like a cornered rat ... and quite as dangerous. Two
+Chinese were crouched against a lacquered screen.
+
+"What do you want?" asked the woman, her voice shrill with anger.
+
+"Take your hand out from under that pillow!" ordered Lees. "No nonsense,
+Smiling Rose."
+
+Reluctantly the ringed and tapered fingers that had clutched apparently
+a hidden weapon came into view. "Light the lamps," said Lees, and one of
+his men performed this office.
+
+"That's the woman, father," spoke young Robert, unexpectedly.
+
+"Put the bracelets on her," ordered Lees, "and search the place." A man
+stepped forward.
+
+But they had not counted on McTurpin. "Let her be," he screamed. A
+pistol flashed. The officer went down at Rose's feet.
+
+Instantly there was confusion. The room was filled with shuffling
+Oriental figures. The lights went out. Powder-flashes leaped like
+fireflies in the darkness. Through it all Lees could be heard profanely
+giving orders.
+
+Then, as swiftly, it was over. Somewhere a door closed. Lees leaped
+forward just in time to hear an iron bar clang into place.
+
+"Gone," he muttered, as his light searched vainly for the woman.
+
+"Who's that on the bed?" asked Benito.
+
+"The cursed opium-wreck, McTurpin," Lees replied impatiently. "I planted
+him when I saw Dick go down." He bent above the wounded officer while
+Benito relighted the lamps and examined curiously the body of his
+ancient enemy. For McTurpin was dead. He had evidently tried to reach
+the woman as he fell. His clawlike fingers clutched, in rigor mortis,
+her abandoned robe. On the floor, where it had fallen from her bosom,
+doubtless in the hasty flight, there lay a crumpled, bloodstained
+envelope. Robert springing forward, seized it with an exclamation. It
+was addressed to William C. Ralston.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIV
+
+AN IDOL TOPPLES
+
+News had come in early spring of Robert Windham senior's death in
+Monterey; less than two months afterward his wife, Anita, lay beside him
+in the Spanish cemetery.
+
+The old Californians were passing; here and there some venerable Hidalgo
+played the host upon broad acres as in ancient days and came to San
+Francisco, booted, spurred, attended by a guard of vaqueros. But a new
+generation gazed at him curiously and, after a lonely interval,
+he departed.
+
+Market street was now a lordly thoroughfare; horse-cars jingled merrily
+along the leading streets. Up Clay street ran that wonder of the age, a
+cable-tram invented by old Hallidie, the engineer. They had made game
+of him for years until he demonstrated his invention for the conquering
+of hills. Now the world was seeking him to solve its transportation
+problems.
+
+Ralston, as usual, was riding on the crest of fortune. His was a
+veritable lust for city building. Each successive day he founded some
+new enterprise.
+
+"Like a master juggler," said Benito to his wife, "he keeps a hundred
+interests in the air. Let's see. There are the Mission Woolen Mills, the
+Kimball Carriage Works, the Cornell Watch Factory--of all things--the
+West Coast Furniture plant, the San Francisco Sugar Refinery, the Grand
+Hotel, a dry dock at Hunter's Point, the California Theater, a
+reclamation scheme at Sherman Island, the San Joaquin Valley irrigating
+system, the Rincon Hill cut, the extension of Montgomery street ..." he
+checked them off on his fingers, pausing finally for lack of breath.
+
+"You've forgotten the Palace Hotel," said Alice smiling.
+
+"No," Benito said, "I hadn't got that far. But the Palace is typical.
+Ralston wants San Francisco to have the best of everything the world can
+give. He's mad about this town. It's wife and child to him. Why it's
+almost his God!"
+
+Alice looked into his eyes. "You're fearful for your prince! You Monte
+Cristo!"
+
+"Yes," he said, "I'm frankly worried. Something's got to drop.... It's
+too--too splendid."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As he went down Market street toward Montgomery, Benito paused to
+observe the new Palace Hotel. Hundreds of bricklayers, carpenters and
+other workmen were raising it with astonishing speed. Hod-carriers raced
+up swaying ladders, steam-winches puffed and snorted; great vats of lime
+and mortar blockaded the street. It was to have a great inner court upon
+which seven galleries would look down. Ralston boasted he would make it
+a hotel for travelers to talk of round the world. And no one in San
+Francisco doubted it.
+
+Benito, eyes upraised to view the labors of a bustling human hive,
+almost collided with two gentlemen, who were strolling westward, arm in
+arm. He apologized. They roared endearing curses at him and insisted
+that he join them in a drink.
+
+They were J.C. Flood and W.S. O'Brien, former saloon proprietors now
+reputed multi-millionaires.
+
+Early in the seventies they had joined forces with Jim Mackey, a
+blaster, at Virginia City and a mining man named J.G. Fair. Between them
+they bought up the supposedly depleted Consolidated Virginia Mine,
+paying from $4 to $9 each for its 10,700 shares. Mining experts smiled
+good naturedly, forgot the matter. Then the world was brought upstanding
+by the news of a bonanza hitherto unrivaled.
+
+Con. Virginia had gained a value of $150,000,000.
+
+After he had sipped the French champagne, on which Flood insisted and
+which Windham disliked, the latter spoke of Ralston and his trouble with
+the editors. "Some of the newspapers would have us think he's playing
+recklessly, with other people's money," he said with irritation.
+
+'"Well, well, and maybe he is, me b'y," returned O'Brien. "Don't blame
+the newspaper fellahs.... They've raison to be suspicious, Hiven
+knows.... Ralston's a prince. We all love the man. It's not that.
+But--," he came closer, caught both of Benito's coat lapels in a
+confidential grasp, "I'm tellin' ye this, me lad: If it should come to a
+show-down ... if certain enemies should have a chance to call Bill
+Ralston's hand, I tell ye, it would mean dee-saster!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At 9 o'clock on the morning of August 25, Francisco Stanley entered the
+private door of Windham's office. He was now an under-editor on The
+Chronicle, which had developed from the old Dramatic Chronicle, into a
+daily newspaper. Benito glanced up from his desk a bit impatiently; it
+was a busy day.
+
+"What's the matter, Francisco? You're excited."
+
+"I've a right to be," the journalist spoke sharply. He glanced at his
+uncle's secretary. "I must see you alone."
+
+"Can't you come in later? I've a lot of clients waiting."
+
+"For God's sake, Uncle Ben," the younger man said desperately, "send
+them off."
+
+Benito gazed at him, astonished. Then convinced by something in
+Francisco's eyes, he nodded to the secretary who departed.
+
+"It's Ralston ... word has reached the newspapers ... his bank has
+failed."
+
+Benito sprang to his feet. "You're crazy! It's--impossible!"
+
+"Uncle Ben, IT'S TRUE!" His fingers closed almost spasmodically upon the
+other's arm.
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"RALSTON SAYS SO. I've just come from there.... He wants you."
+
+Benito reached dazedly for his hat.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Benito found "Bill" Ralston in his private office, head bowed; eyes
+dully hopeless. He looked ten years older.
+
+"The Bank of California has failed," he said before the younger man
+could ask a question. "It will never reopen its doors."
+
+"I--I simply can't believe it!" After a stunned silence Benito spoke. He
+laid a hand on the banker's shoulder. "All I have is at your
+service, Ralston."
+
+"Thank you ... but it isn't any use." He looked up misty-eyed. "I tried
+to make this town the greatest in the world.... I went too far.... I
+played too big a stake. Now--" he tried to smile. "Now comes the
+reckoning."
+
+"But, God Almighty! Ralston," cried Benito, "your assets must be
+enormous.... It's only a matter of time. You'll pull through."
+
+"They won't give me time," he spoke no names, yet Windham knew he meant
+those who had turned from friends to enemies.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Two days later Francisco met Ralston coming out of the bank. His face
+was haggard. His eyes had the look of one who has been struck an
+unexpected blow.
+
+"Will the directors' meeting take place today, Mr. Ralston?"
+
+"It's in session now," he answered dully.
+
+"Ah, I thought, perhaps--since you are leaving--it had been postponed."
+
+Spots of red flamed in the banker's cheeks. "They've barred me from the
+meeting," he replied and hurried on.
+
+Several hours later newsboys ran through San Francisco's streets:
+"EXTRA! EXTRA!" they screamed, "ALL ABOUT RALSTON'S SUICIDE."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXV
+
+INDUSTRIAL UNREST
+
+About the Bank of California was a surging press of men and women. The
+doors of that great financial institution were closed, blinds drawn, as
+on the previous day. Now and then an officer or director passed the
+guarded portals. D.O. Mills was one of these, his stern, ascetic face
+more severe than usual.
+
+Francisco Stanley pushed his way up to the carriage as it started.
+
+"Will the bank reopen, Mr. Mills?" he asked, walking along beside the
+moving vehicle.
+
+The financier's eyes glared from the inner shadows. "Yes, yes.
+Certainly," he snapped. "Very shortly ... as soon as we can levy an
+assessment" The coachman whipped up his horses; the carriage rolled off.
+Francisco turned to face his uncle. "What did he say?" asked Benito.
+Others crowded close to hear the young editor's answer. The word found
+it way through the crowd. "The bank will reopen.... They'll levy an
+assessment.... We won't lose a cent."
+
+Gradually the throng disbanded. Everywhere one heard expressions of
+sorrow for Ralston; doubt of the story that he had destroyed his life.
+As a matter of fact a coroner's jury found that death resulted from
+cerebral attack. An insurance company waived its suicide exemption
+clause and paid his widow $50,000.
+
+The Bank of California was reopened. Ralston, buried with the pomp and
+splendor of a sorrowing multitude, was presently forgotten. Few new
+troubles came upon the land. Overspeculation in the Comstock lode
+brought economic unrest.
+
+Thousands were unemployed in San Francisco. Agitators rallied them at
+public meetings into furious and morbid groups. From the Eastern States
+came telegraphic news of strikes and violence. Adrian returned one
+evening, tired and harassed.
+
+"I don't know what's got into the working people," he said to Inez.
+
+"Oh, they'll get over that," pronounced Francisco, with the sweeping
+confidence of youth. "These intervals of discontent are periodical--like
+epidemics of diseases."
+
+Adrian glanced at the treatise on Political Economy in his son's hand.
+"And what would you suggest, my boy?" he asked with a faint smile.
+
+"Leave them alone," said Francisco. "It goes through a regular form.
+They have agitators who talk of Bloodsucking Plutocrats, Rights of the
+People and all that. But it generally ends in mere words."
+
+"The Paris Commune didn't end in mere words," reminded Adrian.
+
+"Oh, that!" Francisco was a trifle nonplussed. "Well, of course--"
+
+"There have been serious riots in Eastern States."
+
+"But--they had leaders. Here we've none."
+
+"I'm not so sure of that," said Adrian thoughtfully. "D'ye know that
+Irish drayman, Dennis Kearney?"
+
+"Y-e-s ... the one who used to be a sailor?"
+
+"That's the man. He's clever; knows men like a book.... Has power and a
+knack for words. He calls our Legislature 'The Honorable Bilks.' Wants
+to start a Workingmen's Party. And he'll do it, too, or I'm mistaken.
+His motto is 'The Chinese Must Go!'"
+
+"By Harry! There's a story for the paper," said Francisco. "I must see
+the fellow."
+
+Robert Windham and Po Lun were out for a morning promenade. They often
+walked together of a Sunday. Robert, though he was now twenty-six, still
+retained his childhood friendship for the Chinese servitor; found him an
+agreeable, often-times a sage companion. Urged by Alice, whose ambitious
+love included all within her ken, Po Lun attended night school; he could
+read and write English passably, though the letter "r" still foiled his
+Oriental tongue. Today they were out to have a look at the new
+city hall.
+
+On a sand lot opposite several hundred men had gathered, pressing round
+a figure mounted on a barrel. The orator gesticulated violently. Now and
+then there were cheers. A brandishing of fists and canes. Po Lun halted
+in sudden alarm. "Plitty soon they get excited. They don't like Chinese.
+I think maybe best we go back."
+
+But already Po's "pig-tail" had attracted attention. The speaker pointed
+to him.
+
+"There's one of them Heathen Chinese," he cried shrilly. "The dirty
+yaller boys what's takin' bread out of our mouths. Down with them, I
+say. Make this a white man's country."
+
+An ominous growl came from the crowd. Several rough-looking fellows
+started toward Robert and Po Lun. The latter was for taking to his
+heels, but Robert stood his ground.
+
+"What do you fellows want?"
+
+They paused, abashed by his intrepid manner. "No offense, young man. We
+ain't after you. It's that Yaller Heathen.... The kind that robs us of a
+chance to live."
+
+"Po Lun has never robbed anyone of a chance to live. He's our cook ...
+and my friend. You leave him alone."
+
+"He sends all his money back to China," sneered another coming closer,
+brandishing a stick. "A fine American, ain't he?"
+
+"A better one than you," said Robert hotly. Anger got the better of his
+judgment and he snatched the stick out of the fellow's hand, broke it,
+threw it to the ground.
+
+Savagely they fell upon him. He went down, stunned by a blow on the
+head, a sense of crushing weight that overwhelmed his strength. He was
+vaguely conscious of a tirade of strange words, of an arm at the end of
+which was a meat cleaver, lashing about. The vindictive bark of a
+pistol. Shouts, feet running. A blue-coated form. A vehicle with
+champing horses that stood by.
+
+"Are you hurt very bad, young feller?"
+
+Robert moved his arms and legs. They appeared intact. He rose, stiffly.
+"Where's Po Lun?"
+
+"In the wagon."
+
+Robert, turning, observed an ambulance. "Not--dead?"
+
+"Well, pretty near it," said the policeman. "He saved your life though,
+the yellow devil. Laid out half a dozen of them hoodlums with a hatchet.
+He's shot through the lungs. But Doc. says he's got a chance."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Late that afternoon William T. Coleman sat closeted with Chief Ellis of
+the San Francisco police. Coleman bore but scant resemblance to the
+youth of 1856. He was heavier, almost bald, moustached, more settled,
+less alert in manner. Yet his eyes had in them still the old invincible
+gleam of leadership.
+
+"But," he was saying to the man in uniform, "that was twenty years ago.
+Can't you find a younger chap to head your Citizens' Committee?"
+
+"No," said Ellis shortly. "You're the one we need. You know the way to
+deal with outlaws ... how to make the citizens respond. Do you know that
+the gang wrecked several Chinese laundries after the attack on Windham?
+That they threaten to burn the Pacific Mail docks?"
+
+Chief Ellis drew a little nearer. "General McComb of the State forces
+has called a mass meeting. He wishes you to take charge...."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVI
+
+THE PICK-HANDLE BRIGADE
+
+Benito found his son awaiting when he returned from the Citizens' Mass
+Meeting at midnight. Robert, insisting that he was "fit as a fiddle,"
+had nevertheless been put to bed through the connivance of an anxious
+mother and the family physician, who found him to have suffered some
+severe contusions and lacerations in the morning's fray. But he was wide
+awake and curious when his father's latch key grated in the door.
+
+"It must have seemed like old times, didn't it, dad?" he asked with
+enthusiasm. The Vigilance Committee of the Fifties in his young mind was
+a knightly company. As a boy he used to listen, eager and excited, to
+his father's tales of Coleman. Now his hero was again to take the stage.
+
+"Yes, it took me back," said Windham. "I was about your age then and
+Coleman was just in his thirties." He sat down a trifle wearily. "The
+years aren't kind. Some of the fellows who were young in '56 seemed old
+tonight.... But they have the same spirit."
+
+"Tell me what happened," said Robert, after a pause.
+
+Benito's eyes flashed. "You should have heard them cheer when Coleman
+rose. He called for his old comrades and we stood up. Then there was
+more cheering. Coleman is all business. He commenced at once enrolling
+men for his pick-handle brigade; he's refused fire-arms. He has fifteen
+hundred already, divided into companies of a hundred each--with their
+own officers."
+
+"And are you an officer, dad?" asked Robert.
+
+"Yes," Benito smiled. "But my company is one man short. We've only
+ninety-nine."
+
+"How's that?" Robert's tone was puzzled.
+
+Windham rose. "I'm saving it," he answered, "for a wounded hero, who, I
+rather hope, will volunteer."
+
+"FATHER!" cried the young man rapturously.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At the Mount Zion Hospital Po Lun fought with death on Tuesday. The
+bullet was removed; but though this brought relief, there came an
+aftermath of fever and destroying weakness. Alice and her son were at
+his bedside, but Po Lun did not recognize them.
+
+Mrs. Windham turned a tear-stained face to the physician. "Can nothing
+be done?" she pleaded. "He saved my boy.... Oh, doctor! You won't
+let him die."
+
+The young physician's sympathy showed plainly in his eyes. "I've done
+everything," he said. "He's sinking. If I knew a way to rouse him there
+might be a chance."
+
+As he spoke Francisco Stanley entered, viewed the silent figure on the
+cot and shook his head. "Poor Po Lun. At any rate he's been a hero in
+the papers. I've seen to that ..."
+
+"He was delirious all morning ... stretching out his arms and calling
+'Hang Far! Hang Far!' Do you know what it means?"
+
+"I do," Alice answered; "it's the girl from whom he was separated nearly
+twenty years ago."
+
+"Why--that's funny," said Francisco. "Yesterday a woman by that name was
+captured by the mission-workers in a raid on Chinatown. I wonder....
+Could it be the same one?"
+
+"Not likely," the physician answered. "It's a common name, I think.
+Still--" he looked at Po Lun.
+
+"Run and get her," Alice urged. "It's a chance. Go quickly."
+
+Half an hour passed; an hour, while the watchers waited at the bedside
+of Po Lun. Gradually his respiration waned. Several times the nurse
+called the physician, thinking death had come. But a spark still
+lingered, growing fainter with the minutes till a mist upon a mirror was
+the only sign that breath remained.
+
+Suddenly there was a rush of feet, a door flung open and Francisco
+entered, half dragging a Chinese woman by the arm. She gazed with
+frantic eyes from Alice to Robert till her glance took in the figure on
+the bed. She stared at it curiously, incredulously. Then she gave a
+little cry and flung herself toward Po Lun.
+
+What she said no one there present knew. What strange cabal she invoked
+is still a mystery. Be that as it may, eyes which had seemed closed
+forever, opened. Lips white, bloodless, breathed a scarce-heard whisper.
+
+"_Hang Far_!"
+
+"Come," said Alice. "Let us leave them together."
+
+Half an later, in an ante-room, the doctor told them: "He will live, I
+think. It's very like a miracle...."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At the foot of Brannan street lay the Pacific Mail docks, where the
+Chinese laborers were landed. Many thousands of them had been brought
+there by the steamers from Canton. They had solved vexed problems as
+house servants, fruit pickers, tillers of the soil; they had done the
+rough work in the building of many bridges, the stemming of turbulent
+streams, the construction of highways. And while there was work for all,
+they had caused little trouble.
+
+Now half a thousand jobless workers, armed and reckless, marched toward
+the docks. They bore torches, which illuminated fitfully their flushed,
+impassioned faces. Here and there one carried a transparency described,
+"The Chinese Must Go."
+
+[Illustration: Half a thousand jobless workers, armed and reckless,
+marched toward the docks. They bore torches.... "A hell-bent crew'"
+said Ellis.]
+
+Chief Ellis and a squad of mounted policemen watched them as they
+marched down Second street, shouting threats and waving their
+firebrands. "They're a hell-bent crew," he said to William Coleman. "Is
+your posse ready?"
+
+"Yes," he answered, "they've assembled near the dock. I've twenty
+companies."
+
+"Good.... You'll need 'em all."
+
+As he spoke a tongue of flame leaped upward from the darkness. Another
+and another.
+
+"They've fired the lumber yards," the chief said. "I expected that.
+There is fire apparatus on the spot.... It's time to move."
+
+He spurred forward, rounding up his officers. Coleman rode silently
+toward the entrance of the docks. Very soon a bugle sounded. There were
+staccato orders; then a tramp of feet.
+
+The Citizens' army moved in perfect unison toward the fires. Already
+engines were at work. One blaze was extinguished. Then came sounds of
+battle. Cries, shots. Coleman and his men rushed forward.
+
+Stones and sticks flew through the air. Now and then a pistol barked.
+The mounted police descended with a clatter, clubbing their way into the
+throng. But they did not penetrate far, so dense was the pack; it hemmed
+them about, pulling officers from their horses. The fire engines had
+been stopped. One of them was pushed into the bay.
+
+More fires leaped from incendiary torches. The rioters seemed
+triumphant. Then Coleman's brigade fell upon them.
+
+Whack, whack, whack, fell the pick-handles upon the backs, shoulders,
+sometimes heads of rioters. It was like a systematic tattoo. Coleman's
+voice was heard directing, here and there, cool and dispassionate. A
+couple of locomotive headlights threw their glare upon the now
+disordered gangsters. Whack! Whack! Whack!
+
+Suddenly the rioters, bleating, panic-stricken, fled like frightened
+sheep. They scattered in every direction leader*-less, completely
+routed. The fire engines resumed work. An ambulance came up and the work
+of attending the wounded began. The fight was over.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVII
+
+DENNIS KEARNEY
+
+Weeks went by and brought no further outbreak. Chinatown which, for a
+time, was shuttered, fortified, almost deserted, once again resumed its
+feverish activities. In the theaters, funny men made jokes about the
+labor trouble. In the East strikes had abated. All seemed safe and
+orderly again.
+
+But San Francisco had yet to deal with Dennis Kearney.
+
+Dennis, born in County Cork just thirty years before, filled adventurous
+roles since his eleventh year, mostly on the so-called "hell-ships"
+which beat up and down the mains of trade. In 1868 he first set foot in
+San Francisco as an officer of the clipper "Shooting Star." Tiring of
+the sea he put his earnings in a draying enterprise. This, for half a
+dozen years, had prospered.
+
+Suddenly he cast his business interests to the winds. Became a labor
+agitator.
+
+Francisco Stanley, who had sought him, questing for an interview since
+morning, cornered him at last in Bob Woodward's What Cheer House at
+Sacramento and Leidesdorff streets. It was one of those odd institutions
+found only in this vividly bizarre metropolis of the West. For "two
+bits" you could get a bed and breakfast at the What Cheer House, both
+clean and wholesome enough for the proudest. If you had not the coin, it
+made little difference. One room was fitted out as a museum and
+contained the many curious articles which had found their way into
+Woodward's hands. Another room was the hotel library; the first free
+reading room in San Francisco.
+
+At the What Cheer House all kinds of people gathered. Stanley, as he
+peeped into the library, noted a judge of the Superior Court poring over
+a volume of Dickens. He waved a salute to tousle-haired, eagle-beaked
+Sam Clemens, whose Mark Twain articles were beginning to attract
+attention from the Eastern publishers. Near him, quietly sedate,
+absorbed in Macaulay, was Bret Harte. He had been a Wells-Fargo
+messenger, miner, clerk and steam-boat hand, so rumor said, and now he
+was writing stories of the West. Stanley would have liked to stop and
+chat ... but Kearney must be found and interviewed before The Chronicle
+went to press.
+
+Presently a loud, insistent voice attracted his attention. It was
+penetrating, violent, denunciatory. Francisco knew that voice. He went
+into an outer room where perhaps a dozen rough-clad men were gathered
+about a figure of medium height, compactly built, with a broad head,
+shifting blue eyes and a dynamic, nervous manner.
+
+"Don't forget," he pounded fist on palm for emphasis, "on August 18 we
+organize the party. Johnny Day will be the prisident. We'll make thim
+bloody plutocrats take notice." He paused, catching sight of Stanley.
+Instantly his frowning face became all smiles. "Ah, here's me young
+friend, the reporter," he said. "Come along Misther Stanley, and I'll
+give yez a yarn for the paper. Lave me tell ye of the Workingmen's Trade
+and Labor Union."
+
+He kept Francisco's pencil busy.
+
+"There ain't no strings on us. We're free from all political
+connections. We're for oursilves. Get that."
+
+"Our password's 'The Chinese Must Go.'"
+
+"How do you propose to accomplish this?" asked Stanley.
+
+"Aisy enough," returned the other with supreme confidence. "We'll have
+the treaty wid Chiny changed. We'll sind back all the yellow divils if
+they interfere wid us Americans."
+
+Stanley could not repress a smile. Kearney himself had been naturalized
+only a year before.
+
+For an hour he unfolded principles, threatened men of wealth, pounded
+Stanley's knee until it was sore and finally stalked off, highly pleased
+with himself.
+
+"He's amusing enough," said Francisco to his father that evening. "But
+we mustn't underrate him as you said. The fellow has force. He knows the
+way to stir up human passion and he'll use his knowledge to the full.
+Also he knows equity and law. Some of his ideas are altruistic."
+
+"What is he going to do to the Central Pacific nabobs if they don't
+discharge their Chinese laborers?" asked Adrian.
+
+Young Stanley laughed. "He threatens to dynamite their castles on the
+hill."
+
+His father did not answer immediately. "It may not be as funny as you
+think," he commented.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+With the weeks Po Lun mended rapidly. Hang Far was at his bedside many
+hours each day. Alice often found them chatting animatedly.
+
+"When I get plenty well, we mally," Po informed her. "Maybeso go back to
+China. What you say, Missee Alice?"
+
+"I think you'd better stay with me," she countered. "As for Hang Far,
+we'll find room for her." She smiled dolefully. "I'm getting to be an
+old lady, Po Lun ... I need more help in the house."
+
+"You nebbeh get old, Missee Alice," said the sick man. "Twenty yea' I
+know you--always like li'l gi'l."
+
+"Nonsense, Po!" cried Alice. Nevertheless she was pleased. "Will you and
+Hang Far stay with me?"
+
+"I t'ink so, Missee," Po replied. "By 'n' by we take one li'l tlip fo'
+honeymoon. But plitty soon come back."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The labor movement grew and Dennis with it--both in self-importance and
+in popularity. He went about the State making speeches, threatening the
+"shoddy aristocrats who want an emperor and a standing army to shoot
+down the people."
+
+Every Sunday he harangued a crowd of his adherents on a sand-lot near
+the city hall and owing to this fact his followers were dubbed "The
+Sand-Lot Party." One day Robert, after hearing them discourse, returned
+home shaken and angry.
+
+"The man's a maniac," he told his father; "he talked of nothing but
+lynching railroad magnates and destroying their property. He wants to
+blow up the Pacific Mail docks and burn the steamers ... to drop
+dynamite from balloons on Chinatown."
+
+Young Stanley joined them, smiling, and dropped into a chair. "Whew!" he
+exclaimed, "it's been a busy day down at the office. Have you heard that
+Dennis Kearney's been arrested?"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVIII
+
+THE WOMAN REPORTER
+
+Francisco stayed for tea and chatted of events. Yes, Dennis Kearney was
+in jail and making a great hullabaloo about it. He and five of his
+lieutenants had been arrested after an enthusiastic meeting on the
+Barbary Coast.
+
+"And what's the Workingmen's Trade and Labor Union doing?" Robert asked.
+
+"Oh, muttering and threatening as usual," Francisco laughed. "They'll
+not do anything--with the memory of Coleman's 1500 pick-handles fresh in
+their minds...."
+
+"Well, I'm glad those murderous ruffians are behind the bars," said
+Alice. But Francisco took her up. "That's rather hard on them, Aunt
+Alice," he retorted. "They're only a social reaction of the times ...
+when railroad millionaires have our Legislature by the throat and land
+barons refuse to divide their great holdings and give the small farmer a
+chance.... Kearney, aside from his rant of violence, which he doesn't
+mean, is advocating much-needed reforms.... I was talking with Henry
+George today...."
+
+"He's the new city gas and water inspector, isn't he?" asked Benito.
+"They tell me he's writing a book."
+
+"Yes, 'Progress and Poverty.' George believes the single tax will cure
+all social wrongs. But Jean...." He hesitated, flushing.
+
+"Jean?" His aunt was quick to sense a mystery. "Who is Jean?"
+
+"Oh, she's the new woman reporter," said Francisco hastily. He rose,
+"Well, I'll be going now."
+
+His aunt looked after him in silent speculation. "So!" she spoke half
+to herself. "Jean's the woman reporter." And for some occult reason
+she smiled.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Robert saw them together some days later, talking very earnestly as they
+walked through "Pauper Alley." Such was the title bestowed upon
+Leidesdorff street between California and Pine streets, where the
+"mudhens"--those bedraggled, wretched women speculators who still waited
+hungrily for scanty crumbs from Fortune's table--chatted with
+broken-down and shabby men in endless reminiscent gabble of great
+fortunes they had "almost won."
+
+"Miss Norwall's going to do some 'human interest sketches,' as they call
+'em," Francisco explained as he introduced his cousin. "Our editor
+believes in a 'literary touch' for the paper. Something rather new."
+
+Jean Norwall held out her hand. She was an attractive, bright-eyed girl
+in her early twenties, with a searching, friendly look, as though life
+were full of surprises which she was eager to probe. "So you are
+Robert," she remarked. "Francisco's talked a lot about you."
+
+"That was good of him," the young man answered. "He's talked a deal of
+you as well, Miss Norwall."
+
+"Oh, indeed!"' She reddened slightly. "Well, we must be getting on."
+
+Robert raised his hat and watched them disappear around the corner.
+There was a vaguely lonesome feeling somewhere in the region of his
+heart. He went on past the entrance of the San Francisco Stock Exchange
+and almost collided with a bent-over, shrewd-faced man, whose eagle-beak
+and penetrating eyes were a familiar sight along California street.
+
+He was E.J. (better known as "Lucky") Baldwin, who had started the
+Pacific Stock Exchange.
+
+Baldwin had a great ranch in the South, where he bred blooded horses.
+He owned the Baldwin theater and the Baldwin Hotel, which rivaled the
+Palace. Women, racing and stocks were his hobbies. Benito had done some
+legal work for Baldwin and Robert knew him casually. Rather to his
+surprise Baldwin stopped, laid a hand on the young man's shoulder.
+
+"Hello, lad," he greeted; "want a tip on the stock market?"
+
+Tips from "Lucky" were worth their weight in gold. Robert was
+astonished. "Why--yes, thank you, sir," he stammered.
+
+"Well, don't play it ... that's the best tip in the world." The operator
+walked off chuckling.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Robert continued his walk along Montgomery street to Market, where he
+turned westward. It was Saturday and his father's office, where he was
+now studying law, had been closed since noon. It had become a
+custom--almost an unwritten law--to promenade San Francisco's lordly
+thoroughfare on the last afternoon of the week, especially the northern
+side. For Market street was now a social barrier. South of it were
+smaller, meaner shops, saloons, beer-swilling "cafe chantants,"
+workmen's eating houses and the like, with, of course, the notable
+exceptions of the Grand and Palace Hotels.
+
+On the northern side were the gay haberdasheries, millinery stores,
+cafes and various business marts, where fashionable San Francisco
+shopped. Where men with top hats, walking sticks and lavender silk
+waistcoats ogled the feminine fashion parade.
+
+As he passed the Baldwin Hotel with its broadside of bow-windows, Robert
+became aware of some disturbance. A large dray drawn by four horses,
+plumed and flower garlanded, was wending a triumphal course up Market
+street. A man stood in the center of it waving his hat--a stocky fellow
+in soiled trousers and an old gray sweater. Shouts of welcome hailed him
+as the dray rolled on; most of them came from the opposite or
+southern side.
+
+"It's Dennis Kearney," said a man near Robert. "He and his gang were
+released from custody today.... Now we'll have more trouble."
+
+Robert followed the dray expectantly. But Kearney made no overt
+demonstration. He seemed much subdued by his fortnight in jail.
+
+The swift California dusk was falling. The afternoon was gone. And
+Robert, realizing that it was past the dinner hour at his home, decided
+to find his evening meal at a restaurant. One of these, with a display
+of shell-fish grouped about a miniature fountain in its window,
+confronted him ere long and he entered a rococo interior of mirrored
+walls. What caught his fancy more than the ornate furnishings, however,
+was a very pretty girl sitting within a cashier's cage of iron
+grill-work.
+
+It happened that she was smiling as he glanced her way. She had golden
+hair with a hint of red in it, a dainty oval face, like his mother's;
+eyes that were friendly and eager with youth. Robert smiled back at her
+involuntarily.
+
+The smile still lingered as a man came forward to adjust his score. A
+keen, dynamic-looking man of middle years and an imposing presence.
+Robert watched him just a little envious of his assured manner as he
+threw down a gold-piece. While the fair cashier was making change he
+grinned at her. "How's my little girl tonight?" Reaching through the
+aperture, he chucked her suddenly beneath the chin. Tears of
+mortification sprang into her eyes. Impulsively Robert stepped forward,
+crowding the other aside none too gently.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he was breathless, half astounded by his own
+temerity. "But--can I be of any--ah--service?"
+
+"Puppy!" stormed the elder man and stalked out haughtily. The girl's
+eyes encountered Robert's, shining, grateful for an instant. Then they
+fell. Her face grew grave. "You shouldn't have ... really.... That was
+Isaac J. Kalloch."
+
+"Oh, the preacher that's running for Mayor," Robert's tone was abashed.
+"But I don't care," he added, "I'm glad I did."
+
+Once again the girl's eyes met his, shyly. "So am I," she whispered.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIX
+
+A NEW GENERATION
+
+Isaac S. Kalloch was the labor candidate for mayor. People said he was
+the greatest pulpit orator in San Francisco since Starr King. His Sunday
+sermons at the Metropolitan Temple were crowded; as a campaign orator he
+drew great throngs.
+
+Robert's dislike for the man was mitigated by a queer involuntary
+gratitude. Without that bit of paternal familiarity, which had goaded
+the young lawyer to impulsive protective championship, he and Maizie
+Carter, the little golden-haired cashier, might have found the road to
+comradeship much longer.
+
+For comrades they had become almost at once. At least so they fondly
+fancied. Robert's mother wondered why he missed so many meals from home.
+The rococo restaurant gained a steady customer. And the host of
+cavaliers who lingered in the hope of seeing Maizie home each evening
+diminished to one. He was often invited into the vine-clad cottage at
+the top of Powell street hill. Sometimes he sat with Maizie on a
+haircloth sofa and looked at Mrs. Carter's autograph album. It contained
+some great names that were now no longer written. James Lick, David
+Broderick, Colonel E.D. Baker and the still lamented Ralston, of whom
+Maizie's mother never tired of talking. He, it seems, was wont to give
+her tips on mining stocks. Acting on them, she had once amassed $10,000.
+
+"But I lost it all after the poor, dear man passed away," she would say,
+with a tear in her eye. "Once that fellow Mills--I hate his fishy
+eyes!--looked straight at me and said, 'See the poor old mud-hen'!"
+
+She began to weep softly. Maizie sprang to comfort her, stroking the
+stringy gray hair with tender, youthful fingers. "Mother quit the market
+after that. She hasn't been near Pauper Alley for a year ... not since
+I've been working at the Mineral Cafe. And we've three hundred dollars
+in the bank."
+
+"Ah, yes," said the mother, fondly. "Maizie's a brave girl and a thrifty
+one. We're comfortable--and independent, even though the rich grind down
+the poor." Her eyes lighted. "Wait till Kalloch is elected ... then
+we'll see better times, I'll warrant."
+
+Robert was too courteous to express his doubts.
+
+Later he discussed the situation with Francisco. His paper had printed
+an "expose" of Kalloch, who struck back with bitter personal
+denunciation of his editorial foes. "It's a nasty mess," Francisco said
+disgustedly.
+
+"Broderick used to tell my father that politics had always been a
+rascal's paradise because decent men wouldn't run for office--nor vote
+half of the time.... I'm going to write an article about it for The
+Overland. And Pixley of the Argonaut has given me a chance to do some
+stories. I shall be an author pretty soon--like Harte and Clemens."
+
+"Or a poet like this Cincinnatus Heinie Miller, whom one hears about.
+Fancy such a name. I should think he'd change it."
+
+"He has already," laughed Francisco. "Calls himself Joaquin--after
+Marietta, the bandit. Joaquin Miller--rather catchy, isn't it? And he's
+written some really fine lines. Showed me one the other day that's
+called 'Columbus.' It's majestic. I tell you that fellow will be
+famous one day."
+
+"Pooh!" scoffed Robert; "he's a poseur--ought to be an actor, with his
+long hair and boots and sash.... How is the fair Jeanne?"
+
+Francisco's face clouded. "I want her to leave newspaper work and try
+literature," he said, "but Jeanne's afraid to cut loose. She's earning
+her living ... and she's alone in the world. No one to fall back on,
+you know."
+
+"But she'd make more money at real writing, wouldn't she?" asked Robert.
+"Ever since Harte wrote that thing about 'The Luck of Roaring Camp,'
+which the lady proofreader said was indecent, he's had offers from the
+Eastern magazines. John Carmony's paying him $5,000 a year to edit the
+Overland and $100 for each poem or story he writes."
+
+"Ah, yes, but Bret Harte is a genius."
+
+"Maybe Jeanne's another," Robert ventured.
+
+Francisco laughed ruefully. "I've told her that ... but she says no....
+'I'm just a woman,' she insists, 'and not a very bright one at that.'
+She has all kinds of faith in me, but little in herself." He made an
+impatient gesture. "What can a fellow do?"
+
+Robert looked at him a moment thoughtfully. "Why not--marry Jeanne?"
+
+Dull red crept into Francisco's cheeks. Then he laughed.
+"Well--er--probably she wouldn't have me."
+
+"There's only one way to find out," his cousin persisted. "She's alone
+... and you're soon going to be. When do your folks start on their
+'second honeymoon,' as they call it?"
+
+"Oh, that trip around the world--why, in a month or two. As soon as
+father closes out his business."
+
+"You could have the house then--you and Jeanne."
+
+"Say!" exclaimed Francisco suddenly, "you're such a Jim Dandy to manage
+love affairs! Why don't you get married yourself?"
+
+It was Robert's turn to flush. "I'm quite willing," he said shortly.
+
+"Won't she have you?" asked his cousin sympathetically.
+
+"'Tisn't that ... it's her mother. Maizie won't leave her ... and she
+won't bring her into our home. Mrs. Carter's peculiar ... and Maizie
+says we're young. Young enough to be unselfish."
+
+"She's a fine girl," returned Francisco. "Well, good bye." He held out a
+cordial hand.
+
+"I--I'll think over what you said."
+
+"Good luck, then," Robert answered as they gripped.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Adrian Stanley was closing up his affairs. As a contractor he had
+prospered; his reclaimed city lots had realized their purchase price a
+hundred fold and his judiciously conservative investments yielded golden
+fruit. Adrian was not a plunger. But in thirty years he had accumulated
+something of a fortune.... And now they were to travel, he and Inez, for
+a year or so.
+
+He had provided, too, for Francisco. The latter, though he did not know
+it, would have $20,000 to his credit in the Bank of California. Adrian
+planned to hand his son the bank deposit book across the gang plank as
+the ship cast off. They were going first to the Sandwich Islands. Then
+on to China, India, the South Seas. Each evening, sometimes until
+midnight, they perused the illustrated travel-folders, describing
+routes, hotels, trains, steamships.
+
+"You're like a couple of children," smiled Francisco on the evening
+before their departure. He was writing a novel, in addition to the other
+work for Carmony and Pixley. Sometimes it was hard work amid this
+unusual prattle by his usually sedate and silent parents. He tried to
+imagine the house without them; his life, without their familiar and
+cherished companionship.... It would be lonely. Probably he would rent
+the place, when his novel was finished ... take lodgings down town.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXX
+
+ROBERT AND MAIZIE
+
+Francisco saw his parents to the steamer in a carriage packed with
+luggage--shiny new bags and grips which, he reflected, would one day
+return much buffeted and covered with foreign labels. He had seen such
+bags in local households. The owners were very proud of them. Shakenly
+he patted his mother's arm and told her how young she was looking,
+whereat, for some reason, she cried. Adrian coughed and turned to look
+out of the window. None of the trio spoke till they reached the dock.
+
+There Mrs. Stanley gave him many directions looking to his health and
+safety. And his father puffed ferociously at a cigar. They had expected
+Jeanne to bid them good-bye, but she no doubt was delayed, as one so
+often was in newspaper work.
+
+At last it was over. Francisco stood with the bank book in his hand, a
+lump in his throat, waving a handkerchief. The ship was departing
+rapidly. He could no longer distinguish his parents among the black
+specks at the stern of the vessel. Finally he turned, swallowing hard
+and put the bank book in his pocket. What a thoughtful chap his father
+was! How generous! And how almost girlish his mother had looked in her
+new, smart travel suit! Well, they would enjoy themselves for a year or
+two. Some day he would travel, too, and see the world. But first there
+was work to do. Work was good. And Life was filled with Opportunity. He
+thought of Jeanne.
+
+Suddenly he determined to test Robert's advice. Now, if ever, was the
+time to challenge Providence. He had in his pocket Adrian's check for
+$20,000. The Stanley home was vacant. But more than all else, Jeanne was
+being courted by a new reporter on the Chronicle--a sort of poet with
+the dashing ways that women liked. He had taken Jeanne to dinner several
+times of late.
+
+With a decisive movement Francisco entered a telephone booth. Five
+minutes later he emerged smiling. Jeanne had broken an engagement with
+the poet chap to dine with him.
+
+Later that evening he tipped an astonished French waiter with a
+gold-piece. He and Jeanne walked under a full moon until midnight.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Two months after the Stanleys' departure Francisco and Jeanne were
+married and took up their abode in the Stanley home. Francisco worked
+diligently at his novel. Now and then they had Robert and Maizie to
+dinner. Both Jeanne and Francisco had a warm place in their hearts for
+little Maizie Carter. It was perfectly plain that she loved Robert;
+sometimes her eyes were plainly envious when they fell on Jeanne in her
+gingham apron, presiding over the details of her household with, a
+bride's new joy in domestic tasks. But Maizie was a knowing little
+woman, too wise to imperil her dream of Love's completeness with a
+disturbing element like her mother, growing daily more helpless,
+querulous, dependent.
+
+And she had a fine pride, this little working girl. From Robert she
+would accept no aid, despite his growing income as the junior partner in
+his father's law firm. Benito's health had not of recent months been
+robust, and Robert found upon his shoulders more and more of the
+business of the office, which acted as trustee for several large
+estates. Robert now had his private carriage, but Maizie would not
+permit his calling thus, in state, for her at the Mineral Cafe.
+
+"It would not look well," she said, half whimsically, yet with a touch
+of gravity, "to have a famous lawyer in his splendid coach call for a
+poor little Cinderella of a cashier." And so Robert came afoot each
+night to take her home. When it was fine they walked up the steep Powell
+street hill, gazing back at the scintillant lights of the town or down
+on the moonlit bay, with its black silhouetted islands, the spars of
+great ships and the moving lights of tugboats or ferries.
+
+If it were wet they rode up on the funny little cable cars, finding a
+place, whenever possible, on the forward end, which Maizie called the
+"observation platform." As they passed the Nob Hill mansions of Hopkins,
+Stanford and Crocker, and the more modest adobe of the Fairs, Maizie
+sometimes fancied herself the chatelaine of such a castle, giving an
+almost imperceptible sigh as the car dipped over the crest of Powell
+street toward the meaner levels just below where she and her mother
+lived. Their little yard was always bright with flowers, and from the
+rear window one had a marvelous view of the water. She seldom failed to
+walk into the back room and feast her eyes on that marine panorama
+before she returned to listen to her mother's fretful maunderings over
+vanished fortunes.
+
+Tonight as they sat with Jeanne and Francisco in front of the crackling
+fire, Maizie's hunger for a home of her own and the man she loved was so
+plain that Jeanne arose impulsively and put an arm about her guest. She
+said nothing, but Maizie understood. There was a lump in her throat. "I
+should not think such things," she told herself. "I am selfish ...
+unfilial."
+
+Robert was talking. She smiled at him bravely and listened. "Mother's
+planning to go East," she heard him say. "She's always wanted to, and as
+she grows older it's almost an obsession. So father's finally decided to
+go, too, and let me run the business ... I'll be an orphan soon, like
+you, Francisco."
+
+"Oh," said Maizie. "Do you mean that you'll be all alone?"
+
+Robert smiled, "Quite.... Po Lun and Hang Far plan a trip to China ...
+want to see their parents before they die. The Chinese are great for
+honoring their forebears.... Sometimes I think," he added, whimsically,
+"that Maizie is partly Chinese."
+
+The girl flushed. Jeanne made haste to change the subject. "How is your
+friend, Dennis Kearney?" she asked Francisco.
+
+"Oh, he's left the agitator business ... he's a grain broker now. But
+Dennis started something. Capital is a little more willing to listen to
+labor. And Chinese immigration will be restricted, perhaps stopped
+altogether. The Geary Exclusion Act is before Congress now, and more or
+less certain to pass."
+
+"He's a strange fellow," said Jeanne, reminiscently. "I wonder if he
+still hates everyone who disagrees with him. Loring Pickering was one of
+his pet enemies."
+
+"Oh, Dennis is forgiving, like all Irishmen," said Robert. Impulsively
+he laid a hand on Maizie's.
+
+"Maizie is part Irish, too," he added, meaningly. The girl smiled at him
+star-eyed. For she understood.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXI
+
+THE BLIND BOSS
+
+Francisco met the erstwhile agitator on the street one day. He had made
+his peace with many former foes, including Pickering."
+
+"Politics is a rotten game, me b'y," he said, by way of explanation.
+"And I've a family, two little girruls at home. I want thim to remimber
+their father as something besides a blatherskite phin they grow up. So
+I'm in a rispictible business again.... There's a new boss now, bad cess
+to him! Chris Buckley.
+
+"Him your Chinese friends call 'The Blind White Devil?' Yes, I've heard
+of Chris."
+
+"He keeps a saloon wid a gossoon name o' Fallon, on Bush street.... Go
+up and see him, Misther Stanley.... He's a fair-speakin' felly I'm
+told.... Ask him," Dennis whispered, nudging the writer's ribs with his
+elbow, "ask him how his gambling place in Platt's Hall is coming on?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Several days later Francisco entered the unpretentious establishment of
+Christopher Buckley. He found it more like an office than a drinking
+place; people sat about, apparently waiting their turn for an interview
+with Buckley.
+
+A small man, soft of tread and with a searching glance, asked Stanley's
+business and, learning that the young man was a writer for the press,
+blinked rapidly a few times; then he scuttled off, returning ere long
+with the information that Buckley would "see Mr. Stanley." Soon he found
+himself facing a pleasant-looking man of medium height, a moustache,
+wiry hair tinged with gray, a vailed expression of the eyes, which
+indicated some abnormality of vision, but did not reveal the almost
+total blindness with which early excesses had afflicted
+Christopher Buckley.
+
+"Sit down, my friend," spoke the boss. His tone held a crisp cordiality,
+searching and professionally genial. "What d'ye want ... a story?"
+
+"Yes," said Stanley.
+
+"About the election?"
+
+Stanley hesitated. "Tell me about the gambling concession at Platt's
+Hall," he said suddenly.
+
+Buckley's manner changed. It became, if anything, more cordial.
+
+"My boy," his tone was low, "you're wasting time as a reporter. Listen,"
+he laid a hand upon Francisco's knee. "I've got a job for you.... The
+new Mayor will need a secretary ... three hundred a month. And extras!"
+
+"What are they?" asked Francisco curiously.
+
+"Lord! I don't have to explain that to a bright young man like you....
+People coming to the Mayor for favors. They're appreciative ...
+understand?"
+
+"Well," Francisco seemed to hesitate, "let me think it over.... Can I
+let you know," he smiled, "tomorrow?"
+
+Buckley nodded as Francisco rose. As soon as the latter's back was
+turned the little sharp-eyed man came trotting to his master's call.
+"Follow him. Find out what's his game," he snapped. The little man sped
+swiftly after. Buckley made another signal. The top-hatted
+representative of railway interests approached.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Francisco stopped at Robert's office on his way home. Windham had moved
+into one of the new buildings, with an elevator, on Kearney street. In
+his private office was a telephone, one of those new instruments for
+talking over a wire which still excited curiosity, though they were
+being rapidly installed by the Pacific Bell Company. Hotels,
+newspapers, the police and fire departments were equipped with them,
+but private subscribers were few, Francisco had noticed one of the
+instruments in Buckley's saloon.
+
+Robert had not returned from court, but was momentarily expected. His
+amanuensis ushered Francisco into the private office. He sat down and
+picked up a newspaper, glancing idly over the news.
+
+A bell tinkled somewhere close at hand. It must be the telephone. Rather
+gingerly, for he had never handled one before, Francisco picked up the
+receiver, put it to his ear. It was a man's voice insisting that a
+probate case be settled. Francisco tried to make him understand that
+Robert was out. But the voice went on. Apparently the transmitting
+apparatus was defective. Francisco could not interrupt the flow
+of words.
+
+"See Buckley.... He has all the judges under his thumb. Pay him what he
+asks. We must have a settlement at once."
+
+Francisco put back the receiver. So Buckley controlled the courts as
+well. He would be difficult to expose. The little plan for getting
+evidence with Robert's aid did not appear so simple now.
+
+Francisco waited half an hour longer, fidgeting about the office. Then
+he decided that Robert had gone for the day and went out. At the corner
+of Powell street he bumped rather unceremoniously into a tall figure,
+top-hatted, long-coated, carrying a stick.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he apologized. "Oh--why it's Mr. Pickering."
+
+"Where are you bound so--impetuously?"
+
+"Home," smiled Stanley. "Jeanne and I are going to the show tonight." He
+was about to pass on when a thought struck him. "Got a minute to spare,
+Mr. Pickering?"
+
+"Always to you, my boy," returned the editor of the Bulletin, with his
+old-fashioned courtesy.
+
+[Illustration: "My boy ... you're wasting your time as a reporter.
+Listen," he laid a hand upon Francisco's knee. "I've a job for you....
+The new Mayor will need a secretary."]
+
+"Then, come into the Baldwin Cafe.... I want to tell you something."
+
+In an unoccupied corner, over a couple of glasses, Francisco unfolded
+his plan. He was somewhat abashed by Pickering's expression. "Very
+clever, Stanley ... but quite useless. It's been tried before. You'd
+better have taken the job, accumulated evidence; then turned it over to
+us. That would be the way to trap him ... but it's probably too late.
+Ten to one his sleuth has seen us together. Buckley's very--bright,
+you know."
+
+He put a hand kindly on the crestfallen young man's shoulder.... "Go
+back tomorrow and see if he'll make you secretary to the Mayor. Then get
+all the 'extras' you can. Label each and bring it to me. I'll see that
+you're not misunderstood." He rose. "But I fear Buckley will withdraw
+his offer ... if so, we'll print the story of his Platt's Hall
+gambling house."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXII
+
+FATE TAKES A HAND
+
+Francisco found that Pickering's prophecy had been a true one. On a
+subsequent visit to the Bush street saloon he found the Blind Boss
+unapproachable. After waiting almost an hour and seeing several men who
+had come after him, led to the rear room for a conference, word was
+brought him by the little, keen-eyed man that the position of Mayor's
+secretary was already filled. He was exceedingly polite, expressing "Mr.
+Buckley's deep regret," about the matter. But there was in his eye a
+furtive mockery, in his tight-lipped mouth a covert sneer.
+
+Francisco went directly to the office of The Bulletin, relating his
+experience to the veteran editor. "I supposed as much," said Pickering.
+He tapped speculatively on the desk with his pencil. "What's more, I
+think there's little to be done at present. Printing the story of
+Platt's Hall will only be construed as a bit of political recrimination.
+San Francisco rather fancies gambling palaces."
+
+"Jack!" he called to a reporter. "See if you can locate Jerry Lynch." He
+turned to Stanley. "There's the fellow for you: Senator Jeremiah Lynch.
+Know him? Good. You get evidence on Buckley. Consult with Lynch
+concerning politics. He'll tell you ways to checkmate Chris you wouldn't
+dream of...."
+
+Pickering smiled and picked up a sheet of manuscript. Francisco took the
+hint. From that day he camped on Buckley's trail. Bit by bit he gathered
+proofs, some documentary, some testimonial. No single item was of great
+importance. But, as a whole, Robert had assured him, it was weaving a
+net in which the blind boss might one day find himself entrapped.
+Perhaps he felt its meshes now and then. For overtures were made to
+Stanley. He was offered the position of secretary to Mayor Pond, but he
+declined it. Word reached him of other opportunities; tips on the stock
+market, the races; he ignored them and went on.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+One night his house was broken into and his desk ransacked most
+thoroughly. Twice he was set upon at night, his pockets rifled. Threats
+came to him of personal violence. Finally the blind boss sent for him.
+
+"Is there anything you want--that I can give you?" Buckley minced no
+words.
+
+Stanley shook his head. Then, remembering Buckley's blindness, he said
+"No."
+
+Buckley took a few short paces up and down the room, then added: "I'll
+talk plain to you, my friend--because you're smart; too smart to be a
+catspaw for an editor and a politician who hate me. Let me tell you
+this, you'll do no good by keeping on." He spun about suddenly,
+threateningly, "You've a wife, haven't you?"
+
+"We'll not discuss that, Mr. Buckley," said Francisco stiffly.
+
+"Nevertheless it's true ... and children?"
+
+"N-not yet," said Francisco in spite of himself.
+
+"Oh, I see. Well, that's to be considered.... It's not what you'd call a
+time for taking chances, brother."
+
+"What d'ye mean?" Francisco was a trifle startled.
+
+"Nothing; nothing!" said the blind boss unctuously. "Think it over....
+And remember, I'm your friend. If there's anything you wish, come to me
+for it. Otherwise--"
+
+Stanley looked at him inquiringly, but did not speak. Nor did Buckley
+close his sentence. It was left suspended like the Damoclesian blade.
+Francisco went straight home and found Jeanne busied with her needle and
+some tiny garments, which of late had occupied her days. He was rather
+silent while they dined, a bit uneasy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Francisco usually went down town for lunch. There was a smart club
+called the Bohemian, where one met artists, actors, writers. Among them
+were young Keith, the landscape painter, who gave promise of a vogue;
+Charley Stoddard, big and bearded; they called him an etcher with words;
+and there were Prentice Mulford, the mystic; David Belasco of the
+Columbia Theater. Francisco got into his street clothes, kissed Jeanne
+and went out. It was a bright, scintillant day. He strode along
+whistling.
+
+At the club he greeted gaily those who sat about the room. Instead of
+answering, they ceased their talk and stared at him. Presently Stoddard
+advanced, looking very uncomfortable.
+
+"Let's go over there and have a drink," he indicated a secluded corner.
+"I want a chat with you."
+
+"Oh, all right," said Francisco. He followed Stoddard, still softly
+whistling the tune which had, somehow, caught his fancy. They sat down,
+Charley Stoddard looking preternaturally grave.
+
+"Well, my boy," Francisco spoke, "what's troubling you?"
+
+"Oh--ah--" said the other, "heard from your folks lately, Francisco?"
+
+"Yes, they're homeward bound. Ought to be off Newfoundland by now."
+
+The drinks came. Stanley raised his glass, drank, smiling. Stoddard
+followed, but he did not smile. "Can you bear a shock, old chap?" He
+blurted. "I--they--dammit man--the ship's been wrecked."
+
+Francisco set his glass down quickly. He was white. "The--The
+Raratonga?"
+
+Stoddard nodded. There was silence. Then, "Was any-body--drowned?"
+
+Stanley did not need an answer. It was written large in Stoddard's
+grief-wrung face. He got up, made his way unsteadily to the door. A page
+came running after with his hat and stick and he took them absently.
+Nearby was a newspaper office, crowds about it, bulletins announcing the
+Raratonga's total destruction with all on board.
+
+Francisco began to walk rapidly, without a definite sense of direction.
+He found relief in that. The trade-wind was sharp in his face and he
+pulled his soft hat down over his eyes. Presently he found himself in an
+unfamiliar locality--the water-front--amid a bustling rough-spoken
+current of humanity that eddied forward and back. There were many
+sailors. From the doors of innumerable saloons came the blare of
+orchestrions; now and then a drunken song.
+
+Entering one of the swinging doors, Francisco called for whisky. He felt
+suddenly a need for stimulant. The men at the long counter looked at him
+curiously. He was not of their kind. A little sharp-eyed man who was
+playing solitaire at a table farther back, looked up interested. He
+pulled excitedly at his chin, rose and signed to a white-coated
+servitor. They had their heads together.
+
+It was almost noon the following day when Chief Mate Chatters of the
+whaleship Greenland, en route for Behring Sea, went into the forecastle
+to appraise some members of a crew hastily and informally shipped.
+"Shanghaiing," it was called. But one had to have men. One paid the
+waterfront "crimps" a certain sum and asked no questions.
+
+"Who the devil's this?" He indicated a man sprawled in one of the bunks,
+who, despite a stubble of beard and ill-fitting sea clothes, was
+unmistakably a gentleman.
+
+"Don't know--rum sort for a sailor. Got knocked on the head in a
+scrimmage. Cawnt remember nothing but his name, Francisco."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXIII
+
+THE RETURN
+
+In the fall of 1898 a man of middle years walked slowly down the stairs
+which plunged a traveler from the new Ferry building's upper floor into
+the maelstrom of Market street's beginning. Cable cars were whirling on
+turn-tables, newsboys shouted afternoon editions; hack drivers, flower
+vendors, train announcers added their babel of strident-toned outcries
+to the clanging of gongs, the clatter of wheels and hoofs upon
+cobblestone streets. Ferry sirens screamed; an engine of the Belt Line
+Railroad chugged fiercely as it pulled a train of freight cars toward
+the southern docks.
+
+The stranger paused, apparently bewildered by this turmoil.
+
+He was a stalwart, rather handsome man, bearded and bronzed as if
+through long exposure. And in his walk there was a suggestion of that
+rolling gait which smacks of maritime pursuits. He proceeded aimlessly
+up Market street, gazing round him, still with that odd, half-doubting
+and half-troubled manner. In front of the Palace Hotel he paused, seemed
+about to enter, but went on. He halted once again at Third street,
+surveying a tall brick building with a clock tower.
+
+"What place is that?" he queried of a bystander.
+
+"That? Why, the Chronicle building."
+
+The stranger was silent for a moment. Then he said, in a curious,
+detached tone, "I thought it was at Bush and Kearney."
+
+"Oh, not for eight years," said the other. "Did you live here,
+formerly?"
+
+"I? No." He spoke evasively and hurried on. "I wonder what made me say
+that?" he mumbled to himself.
+
+Down Kearney street he walked. Now and then his eyes lit as if with some
+half-formed memory and he made queer, futile gestures with his hands.
+Before a stairway leading to an upper floor, he stopped, and, with the
+dreamy, passive air of a somnambulist, ascended, entering through
+swinging doors a large, pleasant room, tapestried, ornamented with
+paintings and statuary. Half a dozen men lounging in large leathern
+chairs glanced up and away with polite unrecognition. The stranger was
+made aware of a boy in a much-buttoned uniform holding a silver tray.
+
+"Who do you wish to see, sir?"
+
+"Oh--ah--" spoke the stranger, "this is the Bohemian Club, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes, sir. Shall I call the house manager, sir?"
+
+At the other's nod he vanished to return with a spectacled man who
+looked inquiring.
+
+"I beg your pardon--for intruding," said the bearded man slowly. "But--I
+couldn't help it.... I was once a member here."
+
+"Indeed?" said the spectacled man, tentatively cordial, still inquiring.
+"And you're name--"
+
+From the bearded lips there came a gutteral sound--as if speech had
+failed him. He gazed at the spectacled personage helplessly. "I--don't
+know." Sudden weakness seemed to seize him. Still with the helpless
+expression in his eyes, he retreated, found a chair and sank into it. He
+passed a hand feverishly before his eyes.
+
+The spectacled man acted promptly.
+
+"Garrison, you're one of the ancients round this club," he addressed a
+smiling, gray-haired man of plump and jovial mien. "Come and talk to the
+Mysterious Stranger.... Says he was a member ten or fifteen years
+ago.... Can't recollect who he is."
+
+"What do you wish me to do?" asked Garrison.
+
+"Pretend to recognize him. Talk to him about the Eighties.... Get him
+oriented. It's plainly a case of amnesia."
+
+He watched Garrison approach the bearded man with outstretched hand; saw
+the other take it, half reluctantly. The two retired to an alcove, had a
+drink and soon were deep in conversation. The stranger seemed to unfold
+at this touch of friendliness. They heard him laugh. Another drink was
+ordered. After half an hour Garrison returned. He seemed excited. "Hold
+him there till I return," he urged. "I'm going to a newspaper office to
+look at some files."
+
+Fifteen minutes later he was back. "Come," he said, "I've got a cab ...
+want you to meet a friend of mine." He took the still-dazed stranger's
+arm. They went out, entered a carriage and were driven off. As they
+passed the City Hall the stranger said, as though astonished. "Why--it's
+finished, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes, at last," Garrison smiled. "Even Buckley couldn't hold it back
+forever."
+
+"Buckley ... he's the one who promised me a job, Is Pond the Mayor now?"
+
+"No," returned the other. "Phelan." As he spoke the carriage stopped
+before a rather ornate dwelling, somewhat out of place amid surrounding
+offices and shops. The stranger started violently as they approached it.
+Again the gutteral sound came from his lips.
+
+The door opened and a woman appeared; a woman tall, sad-faced and
+eager-eyed. Beside her was a lad as tall as she. They stared at the
+bearded stranger, the boy wide-eyed and curious; the woman with a
+piercing, concentrated hope that fears defeat.
+
+The man took a stumbling step forward. "Jeanne!" He halted half abashed.
+But the woman sobbing, ran to him and put her arms about his neck. For
+an instant he stood, stiffly awkward, his face very red. Then something
+snapped the shackles of his prisoned memory. A cry burst from him,
+inarticulately joyous. His arms went round her.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It required weeks for Stanley to recover all his memories. It was a new
+world; Jeanne the one connecting link between the present and that still
+half-shadowy past from which he had been cast by some unceremonial jest
+of Fate into a strange existence. From the witless, nameless unit of a
+whaler's crew he had at last arisen to a fresh identity. Frank Starbird,
+they christened him, he knew not why. And when they found that he had
+clerical attainments, the captain, who was really a decent fellow, had
+befriended him; found him a berth in a store at Sitka.... Since then he
+had roamed up and down the world, mostly as purser of ships, forever
+haunted by the memory of some previous identity he could not fathom. He
+had been to Russia, India, Europe's seaports, landing finally at
+Baltimore. Thence some mastering impulse took him Westward. And here he
+was again, Francisco Stanley.
+
+It was difficult to realize that fifteen years had flown. Jeanne seemed
+so little older. But the tall young son was startling evidence of Time's
+passage. Stanley used to sit gazing at him silently during those first
+few days, as though trying to drink in the stupendous fact of his
+existence. Old friends called to hear his adventures; he was given a
+dinner at the club where he learned, with some surprise, that he was not
+unfamous as an author. Jeanne had finished his book and found a
+publisher. Between the advertisement of his mysterious disappearance and
+its real merits, the volume had a vogue.
+
+Robert had married Maizie after her mother's death. They lived in the
+Windham house in Old South Park, for Benito and Alice had never returned
+from the East. Po Lun and Hang Far had gone to China.
+
+Slowly life resumed its formed status for Francisco.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXIV
+
+THE "REFORMER"
+
+Francisco loved to wander round the town, explore its nooks and corners
+and make himself, for the time being, a part of his surroundings. A
+smattering of European languages aided him in this. He rubbed elbows
+with coatless workmen in French, Swiss, Spanish and Italian "pensions,"
+sitting at long tables and breaking black bread into red wine. He drank
+black coffee and ate cloying sweetmeats in Greek or Turkish cafes;
+hobnobbed with Sicilian fishermen, helping them to dry their nets and
+sometimes accompanying them in their feluccas into rough seas beyond the
+Heads. Now and then he invaded Chinatown and ate in their underground
+restaurants, disdaining the "chop suey" and sweets invariably served to
+tourists for the more palatable and engaging viands he had learned to
+like and name in Shanghai and Canton. Fortunately, he could afford to
+indulge his bent, for the value of his inheritance had increased
+extraordinarily in the past decade. Stanley's income was more than
+sufficient to insure a life of leisure.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At Market and Fourth streets stood a large and rather nondescript gray
+structure built by Flood, the Comstock millionaire. It had served for
+varied purposes, but now it housed the Palais Royal, an immense saloon
+and gambling rendezvous. In the massive, barn-like room, tile-floored
+and picture-ornamented, were close to a hundred tables where men of all
+descriptions drank, played cards and talked. Farther to the rear were
+private compartments, from which came the incessant click of
+poker chips.
+
+Francisco and Robert sometimes lunched at the Palais Royal. The former
+liked its color and the vital energy he always found there. Robert "sat
+in" now and then at poker. He had a little of his father's love for
+Chance, but a restraining sanity left him little the loser in the long
+run. Robert had three children, the eldest a girl of twelve. Petite and
+dainty Maizie had become a plump and bustling mother-hen.
+
+It was in the Palais Royal that Francisco met Abraham Ruef, a dapper and
+engaging gentleman of excellent address, greatly interested in politics.
+He was a graduate of the State University, where he had specialized in
+political economy.
+
+Francisco liked him, and they often sat for long discussions of the
+local situation after lunching at the Palais Royal. Ruef, in a small
+way, was a rival of Colonel Dan Burns, the Republican boss. Burns, they
+said, was jealous of Ruef's reform activites.
+
+"If one could get the laboring class together," Ruef told Stanley, "one
+could wield a mighty power. Some day, perhaps, I shall do it. The
+laborer is a giant, unconscious of his strength. He submits to Capital's
+oppression, unwitting of his own capacity to rule. For years we've had
+nothing but strikes, which have only strengthened employers."
+
+"Yes, they're always broken," said Francisco.
+
+"The strike is futile. Organization--political unity; that's the thing."
+
+"A labor party, eh?" Francisco spoke, a trifle dubiously.
+
+"Yes, but not the usual kind. It must be done right." His eyes shone.
+"Ah, I can see it all so plainly. If I could make it clear to others--"
+
+"Why don't you try?" asked Stanley.
+
+But Ruef shook his head. "I lack the 'presence.' Do you know what I
+mean? No matter how smart I may be, they see in me only a small man. So
+they think I have small ideas. That is human nature. And they say,
+'He's a Jew.' Which is another drawback."
+
+He was silent a moment. "I have thought it all out.... I must borrow the
+'presence.'"
+
+"What do you mean?" Francisco was startled.
+
+"We shall see," Ruef responded. "Perhaps I shall find me a man--big,
+strong, impressive--with a mind easily led.... Then I shall train him to
+be a leader. I shall furnish the brain."
+
+"What a curious thought!" said Francisco. Ruef, smiling, shook his head.
+"It is not new at all," he said. "If you read political history you will
+soon discover that."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Francisco worked at his novel. Word came of Alice Windham's death in
+Massachusetts. Robert urged his father to return to San Francisco, but
+Benito sought forgetfulness in European travel.
+
+Frank had finished high school; was a cub reporter on The Bulletin.
+Pickering was dead; his widow and her brother, R.A. Crothers, had taken
+over the evening paper; John D. Spreckels, sugar nabob, now
+controlled the Call.
+
+Newspaper policies were somewhat uncertain in these days of economic
+unrest. Strike succeeded strike, and with each there came a greater show
+of violence. Lines were more sharply drawn. Labor and capital organized
+for self-protection and offense.
+
+"I hear that Governor Gage is coming down to settle the teamsters'
+strike," said Francisco to his son as they lunched together one sultry
+October day in 1901. "I can't understand why he's delayed until now."
+
+"Probably wanted to keep out of it as long as possible," responded
+Frank. "There are strong political forces on each side ... but the story
+goes that Colonel 'Montezuma' Burns is jealous of Ruef's overtures to
+workingmen. So he's ordered the Governor to make a grandstand play."
+
+[Illustration: "Perhaps I shall find me a man--big, strong,
+impressive--with a mind easily led.... Then I shall train him to be a
+leader. I shall furnish the brain."]
+
+Stanley looked at his son in astonishment. He was not yet nineteen and
+he talked like a veteran of forty. Francisco wondered if these were his
+own deductions or mere parroted gossip of the office.
+
+Later that afternoon he met Robert and told him of Frank's comment.
+Robert thought the situation over ere he answered.
+
+"The employing class is fearful," he said. "They've controlled things so
+long they don't know what may happen if they lose the reins. It's plain
+that Phelan can't be re-elected. And it's true that if the labor men
+effect a real organization they may name the next Mayor. Rather a
+disturbing situation."
+
+"Have you heard any talk about a man named Schmitz? A labor candidate?"
+
+"Yes, I think I have. The chap's a fiddler in a theater orchestra. Big,
+fine looking. But I can't imagine that he has the brains to make a
+winning fight."
+
+"Big! Fine looking! Hm!" repeated Stanley.
+
+"Meaning--what?" asked Robert.
+
+"Nothing much.... I just remembered something Ruef was telling me." He
+walked on thoughtfully. "Might be a story there for the boy's paper," he
+cogitated.
+
+Ruef's offices were at the corner of Kearney and California streets.
+Thither, with some half-formed mission in his mind, Francisco took his
+way. A saturnine man took him up in a little box-like elevator, pointing
+out a door inscribed:
+
+     A. RUEF,
+     Att'y-at-Law.
+
+The reception-room was filled. Half a dozen men and two women sat in
+chairs which lined the walls. A businesslike young man inquired
+Francisco's errand. "You'll have to wait your turn," he said. "I can't
+go in there now ... he's in conference with Mr. Schmitz."
+
+Francisco decided not to wait. After all, he had learned what he came
+for.
+
+Abe Ruef had borrowed a "presence."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXV
+
+A NOCTURNAL ADVENTURE
+
+Stanley was to learn much more of Eugene Schmitz. It was in fact the
+following day that he met Ruef and the violinist at Zinkand's. Schmitz
+was a man of imposing presence. He stood over six feet high; his curly
+coal-black hair and pointed beard, his dark, luminous eyes and a certain
+dash in his manner, gave him a glamor of old-world romance. In a red cap
+and ermine-trimmed robe, he might have been Richelieu, defying the
+throne. Or, otherwise clad, the Porthos of Dumas' "Three Musketeers."
+
+Francisco could not help reflecting that Ruef had borrowed a very fine
+presence indeed.
+
+Ruef asked Francisco to his table. He talked a great deal about
+politics. Schmitz listened open-eyed; Stanley more astutely. All at once
+Ruef leaned toward Francisco.
+
+"What do you think of Mr. Schmitz--as a candidate for Mayor?" he asked.
+
+"I think," Francisco answered meaningly, "that you have chosen well."
+They rose, shook hands. To Francisco's surprise Schmitz left them. "I
+have a matinee this afternoon," he said. Ruef walked down Market street
+with Stanley.
+
+"He's leader of the Columbia orchestra.... I met him through my dealings
+with the Musicians' Union." Impulsively he grasped Francisco's arm.
+"Isn't he a wonder? I'll clean up the town with him. Watch me!"
+
+"And, are you certain you can manage this chap?"
+
+Ruef laughed a quiet little laugh of deep content. "Oh, Gene is
+absolutely plastic. Just a handsome musician. And of good, plain people.
+His father was a German band leader; his mother is Irish--Margaret
+Hogan. That will help. And he is a Native Son."
+
+Ruef babbled on. He had a great plan for combining all political
+factions--an altruistic dream of economic brotherhood. Francisco
+listened somewhat skeptically. He was not certain of the man's
+sincerity, but he admired Ruef. Of his executive ability there could
+be no doubt.
+
+Yet there was something vaguely wrong about the wondrous fitness of
+Ruef's plan. Mary Godwin Shelley's tale of "Frankenstein" came to
+Francisco's mind.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+That evening Frank said to his father, with a wink at Jeanne, "Want to
+go slumming with me tonight, father? I'm going to do my first signed
+story: 'The Night-Life of This Town'."
+
+"Do you think I ought to, Jeanne?" asked her husband whimsically. He
+glanced at his son. "This younger generation is a trifle--er--vehement
+for old fogies like me."
+
+Jeanne came over and sat on the arm of his chair. "Nonsense," she said,
+"you are just as young as ever, Francisco.... Yes, go with the boy, by
+all means. I'll run up to Maizie's for the evening. She's making a dress
+for Alice's birthday party. She will be sixteen next month."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Francisco and his son went gaily forth to see their city after dark.
+Truth to tell, the father knew more of it than the lad, who acted as
+conductor. Francisco's wanderings in search of 'local color' had
+included some nocturnal quests. However, he kept this to himself and let
+Frank do the guiding.
+
+They went, first, to a large circular building called the Olympia, at
+Eddy and Mason streets. It was the heart of what was called the
+Tenderloin, a gay and hectic region frequented by half-world folk, but
+not unknown to travelers nor to members of society, Slumming parties
+were both fashionable and frequent. Two girls were capering and
+carolling behind the footlights.
+
+"They are Darlton and Boice," explained young Stanley. "The one with the
+perpetual smile is a great favorite. She's Boice. She's got a daughter
+old as I, they say."
+
+They visited the Thalia, a basement "dive" of lower order, and returned
+to the comparative respectability of the Oberon beer hall on O'Farrell
+street, where a plump orchestra of German females played sprightly airs;
+thence back to Market street and the Midway. "Little Egypt," tiny,
+graceful, sensually pretty, performed a "danse du ventre," at the
+conclusion of a long program of crude and often ribald "turns." When
+"off-stage" the performers, mostly girls, drank with the audience in a
+tier of curtained boxes which lined the sides of the auditorium. At
+intervals the curtains parted for a moment and faces peered down. A
+drunken sailor in a forward box was tossing silver coins to a dancer.
+
+They made their exit, Francisco frankly weary and the young reporter
+bored by the unrelieved crudity of it all. A smart equipage, with
+champing horses, stood before the entrance. They paused to glance at it.
+
+"Looks like Harry Bear's carriage," Frank commented. "You know the young
+society blood who's had so many larks." He turned back. "Wait a minute,
+father, I'm going in. If Bear has a party upstairs in those boxes it'll
+make good copy."
+
+"It'll make a scandal, you mean," returned Francisco rather crisply.
+"You can't print the women's names."
+
+"Bosh!" the younger man retorted pertly. "Everyone's doing this sort of
+thing now. Come along, dad. See the fun." He caught his father's arm and
+they re-entered, taking the stairs, this time, to the boxes above. From
+one came a man's laughing banter. "That's he," Frank whispered, Hastily
+he drew his half reluctant father into a vacant box. A waiter brought
+them beer, collected half a dollar and inquired if they wanted
+"Company." Francisco shook his head.
+
+The man in the adjoining box was drunk, the girl was frightened. Their
+voices filtered plainly through the thin partition. He was urging her to
+drink and she was protesting. Finally she screamed. Stanley and his son
+sprang simultaneously to the rescue. They found a young man in an
+evening suit trying to kiss a very pretty girl.
+
+His ears were red where she had boxed them and as he turned a rather
+foolish face surprisedly toward the intruders, a scratch showed livid on
+one cheek. The girl's hair streamed disheveled by the struggle. She
+caught up, hastily, a handsome opera cloak to cover her torn corsage.
+
+"Please," she said, "get me out of here quickly.... I'll pay you well."
+Then she flushed as young Stanley stiffened. "I ... I beg your pardon."
+
+He offered her his arm and they passed from the box together. The
+befuddled swain, after a dazed interval, attempted to follow, but
+Francisco flung him back. He heard the carriage door shut with a snap,
+the clatter of iron-shod hoofs. Then he went out to look for Frank, but
+did not find him. Evidently he had gone with the lady. Francisco smiled.
+It was quite an adventure. Thoughtfully he gazed at the banners flung
+across Market street:
+
+     "VOTE FOR EUGENE SCHMITZ,
+
+     "The Workingman's Friend."
+
+That was Abraham Ruef's adventure. He wondered how each of them would
+end.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXVI
+
+POLITICS AND ROMANCE
+
+Ruef swept the field with his handsome fiddler. All "South of Market
+street" rallied to his support. The old line parties brought their
+trusty, well-oiled election machinery into play, but it availed
+them little.
+
+Robert and Francisco met one day soon after the election. "Everyone is
+laughing at our fiddler Mayor," said the former. "He's like a king
+without a court; for all the other offices were carried by Republicans
+and Democrats."
+
+Francisco smoked a moment thoughtfully. "Union Labor traded minor
+offices for Mayoralty votes, I understand. Meanwhile Ruef is building
+his machine. He has convinced the labor people that he knows the game.
+They've given him carte blanche."
+
+"And how does the big fellow take it?"
+
+"I was talking with him yesterday," Francisco answered. "Schmitz is shy
+just yet. But feels his dignity. Oh, mightily!" He laughed. "Little Abe
+will have his hands full with big 'Gene, I'm thinking."
+
+"But Ruef's not daunted by the prospect."
+
+"Heavens, no. The man has infinite self-confidence. And it's no fatuous
+egotism, either. A sort of suave, unshakable trust in himself. Abe
+Ruef's the cleverest politician San Francisco's known in many
+years--perhaps since Broderick. He makes such men as Burns and Buckley
+look like tyros--"
+
+Robert looked up quickly. "By the way, I've often wondered whether
+Buckley wasn't guilty of your disappearance. He meant you no good."
+
+"No," Francisco answered. "I've looked into that. Chris, himself, had
+no connection with it. Once he threatened me ... but I've since learned
+what he meant.... Just a little blackmail which concerned a woman.
+But--" he hesitated.
+
+Robert moved uneasily. "But--what?"
+
+"Oh, well, it didn't work. The girl he planned to use told him the
+truth." Francisco, too, seemed ill at ease. "It was so long ago ... it's
+all forgotten."
+
+"I trust so," said the other. Rather abruptly he rose. "Must be getting
+back to work."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Once a week Frank donned his evening clothes and was driven to a certain
+splendid home on Pacific Heights. Bertha Larned met him always with a
+smile--and a different gown. Each successive one seemed more splendid,
+becoming, costly. And ever the lady seemed more sweet as their intimacy
+grew. Once when Frank had stammered an enthusiastic appreciation of her
+latest gown--a wondrous thing of silk and lace that seemed to match the
+changing fires in her eyes--she said suddenly: "What a fright I must
+have looked that evening--in the Midway! And what you must have thought
+of me--in such a place!"
+
+"Do you wish to know just what I thought?" Frank asked her, reddening.
+
+"Yes." Her eyes, a little shamed, but brave, met his.
+
+"Well," he said, "you stood there with your hair all streaming and
+your--and that splendid fire in your eyes. The beauty of you struck me
+like a whip. You seemed an angel--after all the sordid sights I'd
+seen. And--"
+
+"Go on--please;" her eyes were shining.
+
+"Then--it's sort of odd--but I wanted to fight for you!"
+
+She came a little closer.
+
+"Some day, perhaps," she spoke with sudden gravity, "I may ask you to do
+that."
+
+"What? Fight for you?"
+
+Bertha nodded.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was after the Olympia had been made over into a larger Tivoli Opera
+House that Frank met Aleta Boice. She was a member of the chorus. Their
+acquaintance blossomed from propinquity, for both had a fashion of
+supping on the edge of midnight at a little restaurant, better known by
+its sobriquet of "Dusty Doughnut," than by its real name, which long ago
+had been forgotten.
+
+Frank had formed the habit of sitting at a small table somewhat isolated
+from the others where now and then he wrote an article or editorial.
+Hitherto it had unvaryingly been at his disposal, for the hour of
+Frank's reflection was not a busy one. Therefore he was just a mite
+annoyed to find his table tenanted by a woman. Perhaps his irritation
+was apparent; or, perchance, Aleta had a knack for reading faces, for
+she colored.
+
+"I--I beg your pardon. Have I got your place?"
+
+"N-no," protested Frank. "I sit here often ... that's no matter."
+
+"Well," she said; "don't let me drive you off. I'll not be
+comfortable.... Let's share it, then," she smiled; "tonight, at least."
+
+They did. Frank found her very like her mother--the smiling one of
+Darlton and Boice, Olympia entertainers of past years. One couldn't call
+her pretty, when her face was in repose. But that was seldom, so it
+didn't matter. Her smile was like a spring, a fountain of perennial good
+nature. And her eyes were trusting, like a child's. Frank often wondered
+how she had maintained that look of eager innocence amid the life
+she lived.
+
+Frank learned much of her past. She could barely remember the father,
+who was a circus acrobat and had been killed by a fall from a trapeze.
+Her mother had retired from the stage; she was doing needlework for the
+department stores and the Woman's Exchange.
+
+"Every morning she teaches me grammar," said Aleta. "Mother's never
+wanted me to talk slang like the other girls. She says if you're
+careless with your English you get careless of your principles. Mother's
+got a lot of quaint ideas like that."
+
+Again came her rippling laugh. Frank grew to enjoy her; look forward to
+the nightly fifteen minutes of companionship. They never met anywhere
+else. But when an illness held Aleta absent for a week the Dusty
+Doughnut seemed a lonesome place.
+
+Bertha twitted Frank upon his absent-mindedness one evening as he dined
+with her. By an effort he shook off his vagary of the other girl. He
+loved Bertha. But, for some unfathomed cause, she held him off. Never
+had she let him reach a declaration.
+
+"We're such marvelous friends!... Can't we always be that--just that?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Things drifted on. Schmitz, as a Mayor, caused but small remark. He
+reminded Frank of a rustic, sitting at a banquet board and watching his
+neighbors before daring to pick up a fork or spoon. But Ruef went on
+building his fences. Union Labor was now a force to deal with. And Ruef
+was Union Labor.
+
+One of Robert's clients desired to open a French restaurant, with the
+usual hotel appurtenances. He made application in the usual manner. But
+the license was denied.
+
+Robert was astonished for no reason was assigned and all requests for
+explanation were evaded.
+
+A week or so later, Robert met the restaurateur. "Well, I've done it,"
+said the latter, jovially. "Open Monday, Come around and eat with me."
+
+"But--how did you manage it?"
+
+"Oh, I took a tip. I made Ruef my attorney. Big retaining fee," he
+sighed. "But--well, it's worth the price."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXVII
+
+ALETA'S PROBLEM
+
+By the end of Schmitz' second term the Democrats and Republicans were
+thoroughly alarmed. They saw a workingmen's control of city government
+loom large and imminent, with all its threat of overturned political
+tradition.
+
+So the old line parties got together. They made it a campaign of
+Morality against imputed Vice. They selected as a fusion standard-bearer
+George S. Partridge, a young lawyer of unblemished reputation--and of
+untried strength.
+
+"If Ruef succeeds a third time," Frank said to his father, "he'll
+control the town. He'll elect a full Board of Supervisors ... that is
+freely prophesied if Union Labor wins. You ought to see his list of
+candidates--waffle bakers, laundry wagon drivers--horny-fisted sons of
+toil and parasites of politics. Heaven help us if they get in power!"
+
+"But there's always a final reckoning ... like the Vigilance Committee,"
+said Francisco, slowly. "Somehow, I feel that there's a shakeup coming."
+
+"A moral earthquake, eh?" laughed Jeanne. "I wouldn't want to have a
+real one, with all of our new skyscrapers."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+After dinner Stanley and his son strolled downtown together. Exercise
+and diet had been recommended, Francisco was acquiring embonpoint. Frank
+was enthusiastic over the new motor carriages called automobiles.
+
+Robert had one of them--the gasoline type--with a _chauffeur_, as the
+French called the drivers of such machines. Bertha Larned had an
+"electric coupe," very handsome and costly, with plate-glass windows on
+three sides. She drove it herself. Frank sometimes encountered it
+downtown, looking like a moving glass cage, with the two women in it.
+Mrs. Larned, the aunt, always had a slightly worried expression, and
+Bertha, as she steered the thing through a tangle of horse-drawn
+traffic, wore a singularly determined look.
+
+There were cable cars on most of the streets; a few electric lines which
+ran much more swiftly. But people deemed the latter dangerous. There was
+much popular sentiment against electrizing Market street. The United
+Railways, which had succeeded the old Market Street Railway Company, was
+in disfavor. There were rumors of illicit bargains with the Supervisors
+for the granting of proposed new franchises. Young Partridge made much
+of this. He warned the public that it was about to be "betrayed." But
+his prophetic eloquence availed him little. Schmitz and all the Union
+Labor candidates won by a great majority.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Frank sought Aleta at the Dusty Doughnut some months later. He was very
+tired, for the past few days had brought a multitude of tasks. He had
+counted on Aleta's smile. It seldom failed to cheer him, to restore the
+normal balance of his mind. But, though she came, the smile was absent.
+There was a faint ghost of it now and again; a harried look about the
+eyes. Frank thought there was a mistiness which hinted recent tears.
+
+He laid a hand sympathetically on hers. "What is it, little girl?"
+
+She would not tell him. Her mother was ill. But the trouble did not lie
+there. Frank was sure. She had borne that burden long and
+uncomplainingly. Aleta had an ingenue part now at the Alcazar. Only once
+or twice a week did she keep the tacit tryst at the little nocturnal
+cafe. Frank saw her at the Techau, at Zinkand's, the St. Germain, with
+the kind of men that make love to actresses. She knew all about the
+stock market and politics, for some of Ruef's new Supervisors were among
+her swains. Once or twice, as the jargon of the journals has it, she had
+"tipped off" a story to Frank.
+
+She said at last, "I'll tell you something ... but you mustn't print it:
+This new city government is running wild.... They're scheming to hold up
+the town. They've made a list of all the corporations--the United
+Railways, the telephone company.... Everyone that wants a favor of the
+city must pay high. The man who told me this said that his share will
+total $30,000. Ruef and Schmitz will probably be millionaires."
+
+"But how's it to be done? They're being watched, you know. They've lots
+of enemies. Bribery would land them in the penitentiary."
+
+The girl leaned forward. "Ah, this isn't ordinary bribery. Anyone that
+wants a franchise or a license hires Ruef as his attorney. They say he
+gets as high at $10,000 for a retaining fee ... and they expect to clean
+the street car company out of a quarter million."
+
+Prank stared. "Why--in God's name!--did he tell you this?"
+
+"He loves me." There was something like defiance in her answer. "He
+wants me to accompany him to Europe--when he gets the coin. He says it
+won't be long."
+
+"So"--Frank was a little nonplussed--"he wants you to marry him?"
+
+"No," the girl's face reddened. "No, I can't ... he's got a wife."
+
+For a moment there was silence. Then. "What did you tell the--hound,
+Aleta?"
+
+"He's not a hound," she said evenly. "The wife won't care. She runs with
+other men...." Her eyes would not meet Frank's. "I--haven't answered."
+
+"But--your mother!"
+
+"Mother's mind is gone," Aleta answered, bitterly. "She doesn't even
+recognize me now.... But she's happy." Her laugh rang, mirthless.
+
+"Aleta," he said, sternly, "do you love this man?"
+
+"No," she said and stared at him. "I--I--"
+
+"What?"
+
+"I love another--if you must know all about it."
+
+"Can't you--marry _him?_ Is he too poor?" asked Stanley.
+
+"Poor?" Her eyes were stars; "that wouldn't matter. No, he's not my
+sort...."
+
+"Does he know?"
+
+"No," Aleta answered, hastily. "No, he doesn't ... and he never will."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Frank told his father something of the conversation.
+
+"Its an open secret," said Francisco, "that Ruef and his crew are out
+for the coin. I'll tell you something else you mustn't print, your paper
+is determined to expose Ruef. The managing editor is on his way to
+Washington to confer with President Roosevelt.... The plan is to borrow
+Francis Heney and William J. Burns."
+
+"What? The pair that has been exposing Senators and land frauds up in
+Oregon?"
+
+His father nodded. "Phew!" The young man whistled. "You were right when
+you predicted that there was a shakeup coming."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Frank, expecting startling things to happen, kept his mind alert. But
+the months passed uneventfully. The editor returned from Washington. No
+sensational announcement followed the event. Later it was rumored that
+Burns had sent operatives to the city. They were gathering evidence, one
+understood, but if they did, naught seemed to come of it. Frank was
+vaguely disappointed. Now and then he saw Aleta, but the subject of
+their former talk was not resumed. Vaguely he wondered what manner of
+man was her beloved.
+
+Frank resented the idea that he was above her. Aleta was good enough
+for any man.
+
+Bertha was visiting her aunt's home in the East. She had been very
+restless and capricious just before she went. All women were thus, he
+supposed. But he missed her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXVIII
+
+THE FATEFUL MORN
+
+On the evening of April 17, 1906, Frank and Bertha, who had recently
+returned, attended the opera. The great Caruso, whose tenor voice had
+taken the East by storm, and whose salary was reputed to be fabulous,
+had come at last to San Francisco. Fremsted, almost equally famous, was
+singing with him in "Carmen" at the Grand Opera House. All the town
+turned out in broadcloth, diamonds, silks and décolleté to hear them--a
+younger generation of San Franciscans assuming a bit uncomfortably that
+social importance which had not yet become genealogically sure
+of itself.
+
+Frank and Bertha drove down in the electric brougham, for which they had
+with difficulty found a place along the vehicle-lined curb of Mission
+street. And, as they were early, they halted in the immense and
+handsome, though old-fashioned, foyer to observe the crowd. The air was
+heavy with perfume.
+
+"Look at that haughty dame with a hundred-thousand dollar necklace," he
+smiled. "One would have thought her father was at least a king. Forty
+years ago he drove a dray.... And that one with the ermine coat and
+priceless tiara. Wouldn't you take her for a princess? Ah, well, more
+power to her! But her mother cleaned soiled linen in Washerwoman's
+Lagoon and her dad renovated cuspidors, swept floors in the
+Bella Union."
+
+But the girl did not seem interested. "I wonder," she remarked a little
+later, "why it makes so very much--ah--difference ... who one's
+parents were?"
+
+There was a curious, half-detached sadness in her tone. Frank wondered
+suddenly if he had blundered. Bertha had never mentioned her parents. He
+vaguely understood that they had died abroad and had foreborne to
+question, fearing to arouse some tragic memory.
+
+"Of course, it really doesn't matter," he said hastily; "it's only when
+people put on airs that I think of such things." She took his arm with
+fingers that trembled slightly. "Let us go in. The overture is
+beginning."
+
+During an intermission she whispered. "I wish I were like Carmen--bold
+enough to fight the world for lo--for what I wanted."
+
+"Aren't you?" he turned and looked at her.
+
+"No, sometimes I'm overwhelmed ... feel as though I can't look life in
+the face." He saw that her lips were trembling, that her eyes were
+winking back the tears.
+
+"What is it, dear?" he questioned. But she did not answer. The curtain
+rose upon the final act.
+
+Silently they moved out with a throng whose silk skirts swished and
+rustled. The men were restless, glad of a chance at the open and a
+smoke; the women gay, exalted, half intoxicated by the musical appeal to
+their emotions. There was an atmosphere almost of hysteria in the great
+swiftly emptying auditorium.
+
+"I feel sort of--smothered," Bertha said; "suppose we walk."
+
+"Gladly," answered Frank, "but what about the coupe?"
+
+"There's one of these new livery stables with machine shop attached not
+far away. They call it a garage.... We'll leave the brougham there,"
+she said.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The night was curiously still--breathless one might have called it.
+While the temperature was not high, there was an effect of warmth,
+vaguely disturbing like the presage of a storm. As they traversed a
+region of hotels and apartment houses, Frank and Bertha noted many open
+windows; men and women staring out half dreamily. They passed a livery
+stable, out of which there came a weird uncanny dissonance of horses
+neighing in their stalls.
+
+"Tell me of your actress friend. Do you see her often?" Bertha asked.
+
+"Not very. She's a good pal. But she's ... well, not like you."
+
+Her eyes searched him. "Do you mean she's not as--pretty, Frank?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know," he answered. "It's because I love you, dear. Aleta's
+right enough. But she's not--oh, you know--essential."
+
+Bertha squeezed his arm. Was silent for a moment. Then, "Aleta's father
+was a circus rider?"
+
+"Acrobat. Yes, he was killed when she was quite a child."
+
+"But she remembers him; they were married, her mother" and he."
+
+"Why, yes, I suppose so ... naturally."
+
+There was another silence. Suddenly he turned on her, perplexed.
+"Bertha, what is wrong with you tonight?"
+
+They were crossing a little park high up above the city whose lights
+lay, shimmering and misty, below. The stillness was obtrusive here. Not
+a leaf stirred. There was no one about. They might have been alone upon
+some tropic peak.
+
+"I--can't tell you, Frank." Her tone of blended longing and despair
+caught at his heart.
+
+Impetuously his arms went around her. "Dear," he said unsteadily. "Dear,
+I want you.... Oh, Bertha, I've waited so long! I don't care any more if
+you're rich ... I'm going to--you've got to promise...."
+
+She tried to protest, to push him away; but Frank held her close. And,
+after a moment, like a tired child's, her head lay quiet on his
+shoulder; her arms stole round his neck; she began to weep softly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The horror came at dawn.
+
+Frank, startled from a late and restless slumber, thought that he was
+being shaken or attacked by some intruder. He sprang up, sleepily
+bewildered. The room rocked with a quick, sharp, jerking motion that was
+strangely terrifying. There was a dull indescribable rumbling,
+punctuated by a sound of falling things. A typewriter in one end of the
+room went over on the floor. A shaving mug danced on the shelf and fell.
+The windows rattled and a picture on the wall swayed drunkenly.
+
+"Damn!" Frank rubbed his eyes. "An earthquake!"
+
+He heard his mother's scream; his father's reassuring answer. Hurriedly
+he reached for his clothes. Downstairs he found his father endeavoring
+to calm the frightened servants, one of whom appeared to have hysterics.
+Presently his mother entered with the smelling salts. Soon the maid's
+unearthly laughter ceased.
+
+"Anyone hurt?" Frank questioned anxiously.
+
+"No," his father answered. "Thought the house was going over ... but
+there's little damage done."
+
+Suddenly Frank thought of Bertha. He must go to her. She would be
+frightened.
+
+He ran into the debris-cluttered street. Cable cars stood here and
+there, half twisted from the tracks, pavements were littered with bricks
+from fallen chimneys, bits of window glass. Men and women in various
+degrees of dishabille, were issuing from doorways. As he mounted higher,
+Frank saw smoke spirals rising from the southeastern part of town. He
+heard the strident clang of firegongs.
+
+Automobiles were tearing to and fro, with a great shrieking of siren
+whistles.
+
+It seemed like a nightmare through which he tore, without a sense of
+time or movement, arriving finally at the marble vestibule of Bertha's
+home. It was open and he rushed in, searching, calling. But he got no
+answer. Bertha, servants, aunt--all apparently had fled.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX
+
+THE TURMOIL
+
+Frank never knew just why he turned toward the town from Bertha's empty
+dwelling. It was an involuntary reaction. The excitement of those lower
+levels seemed to call, and thence he sped. Several times
+acquaintances--newspaper men and others--accosted him. Everyone was
+eagerly alert, feverishly interested, as if by some great adventure.
+Japanese boys were sweeping up the litter in front of stores. In many
+places things were being put in order, as if the trouble were over. But
+at other points there was confusion and dread. Half-dressed men and
+women wandered about, questing for a cup of coffee, but there was none
+to be had, for the gas mains had broken.
+
+People converged toward parks and open spaces. Union Square was crowded
+with a strangely varied human mass; opera singers from the St. Francis
+Hotel, jabbering excitedly in Italian or French, and making many
+gestures with their jeweled hands; Chinese and Japanese from the
+Oriental quarter hard by; women-of-the-town, bedraggled, sleepy-eyed and
+fearful; sailors, clerks, folk from apartment houses.
+
+Near the pansy bed a woman lay. She screamed piercingly at intervals.
+Frank learned that she was in travail. By and by a doctor came, a nurse.
+They were putting up tents on the green sward. Automobiles rolled up,
+sounding their siren alarms. Out of them were carried bandaged men who
+moaned, silent forms on litters, more screaming women. They were taken
+to the tents. Extra police appeared to control the crowds that surged
+hither and thither without seeming reason, swayed by sudden curiosities
+and trepidation.
+
+San Francisco was burning. The water mains were broken by the quake,
+Frank learned. The fire department was demoralized. Chief Sullivan was
+dead. A falling chimney from the California Hotel had crushed him.
+
+There were emergency reservoirs, but no one seemed to know where. They
+had not been used for years.
+
+Swiftly the fire gained. It ravaged like a fiend in the factory district
+south and east, toward the bay.
+
+By noon a huge smoke curtain hid the sky; through it the sun gleamed
+palely like a blood-red disc. Wild rumors were in circulation. Los
+Angeles was wiped out. St. Louis had been destroyed. New York and
+Chicago were inundated by gigantic tidal waves.
+
+Frank decided to return home and discover how his people fared. Perhaps
+there would be a bite for him. He found his father's house surrounded by
+a cordon of young soldiers--student militiamen from Berkeley, some one
+said. They ordered him off.
+
+"But--" he cried. "It's my HOME. My father and mother are there."
+
+"They were ordered out two hours since," said a youthful officer, who
+came up to settle the dispute. "We'll have to dynamite the place.... No
+water.... Desperate measures necessary...."
+
+He stopped Frank's effort to reply with further stereotyped
+announcements. "Orders of the Admiral, Mayor, Chief of Police.... Sorry.
+Can't be helped.... Keep back, everybody. Men have orders to shoot."
+
+He made off tempestuously busy and excited.
+
+Frank shouted after him, "Wait, where have my parents gone? Did they
+leave any word?"
+
+The young man turned, irritably. "Don't know," he answered, and resumed
+his vehement activities. Frank, with a strange, empty feeling, retraced
+his way, fought a path by means of sheer will and the virtue of his
+police badge across Market street, and struck out toward Lafayette
+Square. Scarcely realizing it, he was bound for Aleta's apartment.
+
+A warped shaft had incapacitated the automatic elevator, so he climbed
+three flights of stairs and found Aleta packing.
+
+"Frank!" she cried, and ran to him. "This is good of you." She took both
+of his hands and clung to them as if she were a little frightened.
+
+"Wait," she said. "I'll bet you've had nothing to eat. I'll make you a
+cup of coffee and a toasted cracker on the spirit lamp."
+
+Silently he sat on a broken chair and watched her. He was immensely
+grateful and--he suddenly realized--immensely weary. What a dear girl
+Aleta was! And he had not thought of her till all else failed him.
+
+Soon the coffee was steaming in two little Dresden cups, one minus a
+handle. There was a plateful of crackers, buttered and toasted, a bit of
+Swiss cheese. Frank had never tasted anything so marvelous.
+
+"Where were you going?" he asked, finally.
+
+"To the park ... the panhandle ... everybody's going there."
+
+"Your--mother!" A swift recollection smote him. "Where is she?"
+
+"Mother died last week," Aleta turned away. "I'm rather thankful--now."
+
+Silently he helped her with the packing. There were a suitcase and a
+satchel for the choice of her possessions. They required much picking
+and choosing. Many cherished articles must be abandoned.
+
+Suddenly Aleta ran to Frank. The room was rocking. Plaster fell about
+them. The girl screamed. To his astonishment, Frank found his arms
+around her waist. He was patting her dark, rumpled hair. Her hands were
+on his shoulders, and her piquant, wistful face close to his own. She
+had sought him like a frightened child. And he, with masculine
+protective impulse, had responded. That was all. Or was it? They looked
+into each other's eyes, bewildered, shaken. All was quiet now. The
+temblor had passed instantly and without harm.
+
+In the street they joined a motley aggregation moving westward in
+horse-driven vehicles, automobiles, invalid chairs, baby buggies and
+afoot. Rockers, filled with household goods, tied down and pulled by
+ropes, were part of the procession. Everyone carried or dragged the
+maximum load his or her strength allowed.
+
+When they reached that long narrow strip of park called the Panhandle it
+was close to dusk. They advanced some distance ere they found a vacant
+space. The first two blocks were covered like a gypsy camp with wagons,
+trunks and spread-out salvage of a hundred hastily abandoned homes.
+Improvised tents had been fashioned from blankets or sheets. Before one
+of these a bearded man was praying lustily for salvation. A neighbor
+watched him, smiling, and drank deeply from a pocket flask. A stout
+woman haled Aleta. "You and your husband got any blankets?" she asked.
+
+"No," the girl said, reddening. "No, we haven't ... and he's not ..."
+
+"Well, never mind," the woman answered. "Take these two. It may come
+cold 'fore morning. And I've got more than I can use. We brung the
+wagon." She drew the girl aside and nudged her in the ribs.
+
+"We ain't married, either--Jim 'n' me. But what's the diff?"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXX
+
+AFTERMATH
+
+About daylight the next morning Frank was awakened by a soft pattering
+sound. He jumped to his feet. Was it raining? All about folk stirred,
+held forth expectant hands to feel the drops. But they were fine white
+flakes--ashes from the distant conflagration. Aleta still lay moveless,
+wrapped in her blanket some ten feet away. They had been up most of the
+night, watching the flames, had seen them creep across Market street, up
+Powell, Mason, Taylor, Jones streets to Nob Hill. Finally Frank had
+persuaded Aleta to seek a little rest. Despite her protest that sleep
+was impossible, he had rolled her in one of the borrowed blankets,
+wrapping himself, Indianwise, in the other. Toward morning slumber had
+come to them both.
+
+Aleta, now awake, smiled at Frank and declared herself refreshed. "What
+had we better do next?" she questioned.
+
+Frank pondered. "Go to the Presidio, I guess. The army's serving food
+out there, I hear." He returned the blankets to their owner and the two
+of them set forth. On Oak street, near the mouth of Golden Gate Park, a
+broken street main spouted geyser-like out of the asphalt. They snatched
+a hurried drink, laved their faces and hands and went on, passing a
+cracker wagon, filled with big tin containers, and surrounded by a
+hungry crowd. The driver was passing out crackers with both hands,
+casting aside the tins when they were empty.
+
+"It's like the Millennium," Aleta remarked. "All classes of people
+herded together in common good will. Do you see that well-fed looking
+fellow carrying the ragged baby? He's a corporation lawyer. He makes
+$50,000 a year I'm told. And the fat woman he's helping with her
+numerous brood is a charwoman at the Alcazar theatre."
+
+Frank looked and laughed. "Why--it's my Uncle Robert!" he exclaimed.
+
+Robert Windham held out his free hand to Frank and Aleta. His family was
+safe, he told them. So were Francisco and Jeanne, who had joined the
+Windhams when the Stanley home was dynamited. They had gone to Berkeley
+and would stay with friends of Maizie's.
+
+Frank wrote down the address. He decided to remain in San Francisco.
+There was Aleta.... And, somehow, Bertha must be located.
+
+Everyone was bound for the Presidio.
+
+"You may find me there later," said Windham. "I've some--er--business on
+this side."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At the great military post which slopes back on the green headlands from
+the Golden Gate, Frank and Aleta found a varied company. The hospitals
+were filled with men and women burned in the fire or hurt by falling
+walls. There were scores--perhaps a hundred of them. Frank, with his
+heart in his mouth, made a survey of the hospitals, after finding tent
+room for Aleta. His press badge gained admittance for him everywhere and
+he went through a pretence of taking notes. But he was looking for
+Bertha. At a large tent they were establishing an identification bureau,
+a rendezvous for separated families, friends or relatives. Many people
+crowded this with frantic inquiries.
+
+Soup was being served at the mess kitchens. Great wagons filled with
+loaves of bread drove in and were apportioned. Men, women and children
+formed in line to get their shares.
+
+The sky was still covered with smoke. Late comers reported that the fire
+had crossed Van Ness avenue. There were orders posted all about that one
+must not build fires indoors nor burn lights at night. Those who
+disobeyed would be shot. The orders were signed by Mayor Schmitz.
+Saloons had been closed for an indefinite period. Two men, found looting
+the dead, had been summarily executed by military order. Hundreds of
+buildings were being dynamited. The dull roar of these frequent
+explosions was plainly discernible at the Presidio.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+After they had eaten Frank said good-bye to Aleta. He was going back to
+town. The feverish adventure of it called him. And he had learned that
+there were many other camps of refugees. In one of these he might find
+Bertha. A milk wagon, clattering over the cobblestones overtook him and,
+without an invitation, he climbed aboard. Frank had little sense of
+destination or purpose. He wanted action. The thought of Bertha tugged
+at him now like a pain, insistent, quenchless. He tried to stifle it by
+movement, by absorbing interest in the wondrous drama all about him.
+
+Suddenly he sprang from the wagon. They had reached the park where he
+had learned of Bertha's love. Frank scarcely recognized the tiny
+pleasure ground, so covered was it with tents and bedding. It swarmed
+with people--a fact which Frank resented oddly. In the back of his mind
+was a feeling that this spot was sacred.
+
+He made his way among the litter of fabrics and humanity. These were
+mostly people from the valley where a foreign section lay. Loudly and
+excitedly they chattered in strange tongues, waving their hands about.
+Children wailed. All was disorder, uncontrol.
+
+Sickened of the place Frank turned to go, but something tugged at his
+coatsleeve; a haggard, elderly dishevelled man.
+
+Frank looked at the fellow in wonder. Then he gave a cry and took
+the fellow by the shoulders. He had recognized, despite disguising
+superficialities of garb and manner, Bertha's once spick-and-span
+butler.
+
+"God Almighty, Jarvis!" Frank could scarcely speak, his heart was
+pounding so. "Wh--where is she--Bertha?"
+
+"Come with me, sir," said the old man sadly. He led the way past
+sheet-hung bushes, over crumb-and-paper sprinkled lawns to a little
+retreat under sheltering trees. One had to stoop to enter that arbored,
+leaf encircled nest through which the sun fell like a dappled pattern on
+the grass. Frank adjusted his eyes to the dimmer light before he took in
+the picture: a girl lying, very pale and still, upon a gorgeous Indian
+blanket. She looked at him, cried out and stretched her arms
+forth feebly.
+
+"Bertha!" He knelt down beside her, pressed his lips to hers. Her arms
+about his neck were cold but strangely vibrant. For a moment they
+remained thus. Then he questioned, anxiously, "Bertha? What is wrong?"
+
+"Everything! The world!" she whispered. "When you left me dearest, I was
+happy! I had never dreamed that one could be so glad! But afterward ...
+I didn't dare to face the morning--and the truth!" Her lips quivered.
+"I--I couldn't stand it, Frank," she finished weakly.
+
+"She took morphia," said Jarvis. "When the earthquake came I couldn't
+wake her. I was scared. I carried her out here."
+
+"You tried to kill yourself!" Frank's tone was shocked, condemning.
+"After Tuesday night?"
+
+Her eyes craved pardon. She essayed to speak but her lips made wordless
+sounds. Finally she roused a little, caught his hand and held it to
+her breast.
+
+"Ask your Uncle Robert, dear?" she whispered. Her eyes looked into his
+with longing, with renunciation. A certain peace stole into them and
+slowly the eyelids closed.
+
+Frank, who had half grasped the meaning of her words, leaned forward
+fearfully. The hand which held his seemed colder, more listless. There
+was something different. Something that he could not name--that
+frightened him.
+
+Suddenly he realized its meaning. The heart which had pulsed beneath his
+fingers was still.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXI
+
+READJUSTMENT
+
+Of the trip to Berkeley which followed, Frank could not afterward recall
+the slightest detail. Between the time when, like a madman, he had tried
+to rouse his sweetheart from that final lethargy which knew no waking,
+and the moment when he burst upon his Uncle Robert with what must have
+seemed an insane question, Frank lost count of time.
+
+He was in the library of an Alameda county lawyer, host of the Stanley
+and the Windham families. Across the mahogany table, grasping the back
+of a chair for support, one hand half outstretched in a supplicating
+gesture, stood his Uncle Robert--pale, shaken ghost of the
+self-possessed man that he usually was. Between them, imminent with
+subtle violence, was the echo of Frank's question, hurled, like an
+explosive missile at the elder man:
+
+"Why did Bertha Larned kill herself?"
+
+After an interval of silence Windham pulled himself together; looked
+about him hastily ere he spoke. "Hush! Not here! Not now!" The eyes
+which sought Frank's were brilliant with suffering. "Is she--dead?"
+
+The young man nodded dumbly. Something like a sob escaped the elder. He
+was first to speak. "Come. We must get out of here. We must have a
+talk." He opened the door and went out, Frank following. In the street,
+which sloped sharply downward from a major elevation, they could see the
+bay of San Francisco, the rising smoke cloud on the farther shore. They
+walked together upward, away from the houses, toward a grove of
+eucalyptus trees. Here Robert halted and sat down. He seemed utterly
+weary. Frank stood looking down across the valley.
+
+"Bertha Larned was my daughter," said his uncle almost fiercely.
+
+Frank did not turn nor start as Windham had expected. One might have
+thought he did not hear. At length, however, he said slowly, "I
+suspected that--a little. But I want to know."
+
+"I--can't tell you more," said the other brokenly.
+
+"Who--who was her mother, Uncle Bob?"
+
+"If you love her, Frank, don't ask that question."
+
+The young man snapped a dry twig from a tree and broke it with a sort of
+silent concentration into half a dozen bits. "Then--it's true ... the
+tale heard round town! That you and--"
+
+"Yes, yes," Windham interrupted, "Frank, it's true."
+
+"The--procuress?"
+
+"Frank! For God's sake!" Windham's fingers gripped his nephew's arm.
+"Don't let Maizie know. I've tried to live it down these twenty
+years...."
+
+"Damn it, do you think I'd tell Aunt Maizie?"
+
+"It's--I can't believe it yet! That you--"
+
+"Maizie wouldn't leave her mother." With a flicker of defiance Robert
+answered him. "I was young, rudderless, after my people went East.... A
+little wild, I guess."
+
+"So you sought consolation?"
+
+"Call it what you like," the other answered. "Some things are too strong
+for men. They overwhelm one--like Fate."
+
+Frank began pacing back and forth, his fingers opening and shutting
+spasmodically.
+
+"Uncle Bob," he said at length, "... after you married, what became--"
+
+"Her mother sent the child East--to a sister. She was well
+raised--educated. If she'd only stayed there, in that Massachusetts
+town!"
+
+"Then--Bertha didn't know?"
+
+"Not till she came to San Francisco, after her mother's death. She had
+to come to settle the estate. The mother left her everything--a string
+of tenements. She was rich."
+
+"Bertha came to you, then, I suppose."
+
+"Yes, she came to me," said Robert Windham.
+
+Suddenly, as though the memory overwhelmed him, Windham's face sank
+forward in his hands.
+
+"She was very sweet," his voice broke pitifully. "I--loved her."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Several days later Frank and his father paid a visit to the ruined city.
+One had to get passes in Oakland and wear them on one's hat. Sightseers
+were not admitted nor carried on ferry boats, trains.
+
+Already Telegraph Hill was dotted with new habitations. It was rumored
+that Andrea Sbarbora, banker and patron of the Italian Colony, was
+bringing a carload of lumber from Seattle which he would sell to fire
+sufferers on credit and at cost. The spirit of rehabilitation
+was strong.
+
+Frank was immensely cheered by it. But Francisco was overwhelmed by the
+desolation. "I am going South," he told his son. "I can't bear to see
+this. I don't even know where I am."
+
+It was true. One felt lost in those acres of ashes and debris. Familiar
+places seemed beyond memorial reconstruction, so smitten was the mind by
+this horror of leveled buildings, gutted walls and blackened streets.
+
+Francisco and Jeanne went to San Diego. There the former tried to
+refashion the work of many months--two hundred pages of a novel which
+the flames destroyed. Robert Windham and his family journeyed to Hawaii.
+Frank did not see his uncle after that talk in the Berkeley Hills.
+
+Parks and public spaces were covered with little green cottages in
+orderly rows. Refugee camps one termed then and therein lived 20,000 of
+the city's homeless.
+
+Street cars were running. Passengers were carried free until the first
+of May. Patrick Calhoun was trying to convert the cable roads into
+electric lines in spite of the objection of the improvement clubs. He
+was negotiating with the Supervisors for a blanket franchise to
+electrize all of his routes.
+
+"And he'll get it, too," Aleta told Frank as they dined together. "It's
+arranged, I understand, for quarter of a million dollars."
+
+Frank pondered. "What'll Langdon say to that?"
+
+William H. Langdon was the district attorney, a former superintendent of
+schools, whom Ruef had put on his Union Labor ticket to give it tone.
+But Langdon had refused to "take program." He had even raided the
+"protected" gamblers, ignoring Ruef's hot insinuations of "ingratitude."
+
+"Oh, Ruef's too smart for Langdon," said Aleta. "Every Sunday night he,
+Schmitz and Big Jim Gallagher hold a caucus. Gallagher is Ruef's
+representative on the Board. They figure out what will occur at Monday's
+session of the Supervisors. It's all cut and dried."
+
+"It can't last long," Frank mused. "They're getting too much money.
+Those fellows who used to earn from $75 to $100 a month are spending
+five times that amount. Schmitz is building a palace. He rides around in
+his automobile with a liveried chauffeur. He's going to Europe
+they say."
+
+The girl glanced up at him half furtively. "Perhaps I'll go to Europe,
+too."
+
+"What?" Frank eyed her startled. "Not with--"
+
+"Yes, my friend, the Supervisor." Her tone was defiant. "Why shouldn't
+I?"
+
+"Don't--Aleta."
+
+"But, why not?"
+
+He was silent. But his eyes were on her, pleadingly.
+
+"Would you care, Frank? Would you care--at all?"
+
+"You know I would," he spoke half angrily. The girl traced patterns with
+her fork upon the table cloth.
+
+[Illustration: "I am going South," Francisco told his son. "I cannot
+bear this."]
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXII
+
+AT BAY
+
+On May 21, the United Railway Company received a franchise to electrize
+any of its street-car routes, "where grades permitted."
+
+At once ensued a public uproar. From the press, the pulpit and the
+rostrum issued fiery accusations that the city was betrayed. In the
+midst of it Mayor Schmitz departed for Europe.
+
+Frank met Ruef at the Ferry, where the former had gone to see Aleta off
+on a road tour with her company. The little boss was twisting his
+moustache and muttering to himself.
+
+"So His Honor's off on a lark," said the newsman, meaningly.
+
+Ruef glared at him, but made no answer.
+
+Afterward Frank heard that they had quarreled. Ruef, he learned, had
+charged the mayor with ingratitude; had threatened, pleaded,
+warned--without success.
+
+Schmitz had gone; his was the dogged determination which easily-led men
+sometimes manifest at unexpected moments. One heard of him through the
+press dispatches, staying at the best hotels of European capitals,
+making speeches when he had a chance. He was like a boy on a holiday.
+But at home Ruef sensed the stirring of an outraged mass and trembled.
+He could no longer control his minions. And, worst of all, he could not
+manage Langdon. "Big Jim" Gallagher, now the acting mayor, was docile to
+a fault, however. He would have put his hand into the fire for this
+clever little man, whom he admired so immensely. Once they discussed the
+ousting of Langdon.
+
+"It would be quite legal," Ruef contended. "The Mayor and Board have
+power to remove a district attorney and select his successor."
+
+Henry Ach, advisor of the boss, looked dubious. "I'm not sure of that.
+Moreover, it's bad politics. It would be better seemingly to cooperate
+with Langdon. He has the public confidence. We've not.... Besides, whom
+would we put in Langdon's place?"
+
+"Ruef," said "Big Jim," with his ready admiration. "He's the man."
+
+"Hm!" the little boss exclaimed, reflectively. "Well we shall see."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Frank liked Langdon. He was rather a slow-thinking man; not so clever at
+expedient as Ruef. But he was grounded in the Law--and honest. Moreover,
+he had courage. Powerful enemies and their machinations only stirred
+his zest.
+
+Single-handed Langdon might have been outwitted by the power and
+astuteness of his foes. But another mind, a keener one was soon to add
+its force to Langdon's. Francis J. Heney, special investigator of the
+Roosevelt government, who had unmasked and overthrown corruption in high
+places, was in town.
+
+Frank knew that he had come to San Francisco for a purpose. He met this
+nervous, wiry, sharp-eyed man in the managing editor's office now and
+again. Once he had entered rather unexpectedly upon a conference of
+Heney, former Mayor James D. Phelan, Rudolph Spreckels, son of the sugar
+nabob, and William J. Burns. Frank, who guessed he was intruding, made a
+noiseless exit; not, however, till he heard that there would be a
+thorough, secret search into the trolley franchise and some other
+actions of the Ruef administration. Spreckels and Phelan guaranteed to
+raise $100,000 for this purpose. Burns and his detectives had for
+several months been quietly at work.
+
+On October 24 District Attorney Langdon publicly announced the
+appointment of Francis J. Heney as his assistant, stating that a
+thorough and fearless search into the actions of the city government
+would ensue.
+
+On October 25 the Supervisors met. Frank, himself, went to the council
+chamber to learn what was afoot. He suspected a sensation. But the Board
+met quietly enough at 2:30 o'clock, with Jim Gallagher in the chair. At
+2:45 a special messenger called the acting Mayor to Ruef's office. Three
+hours later he was still absent from the angry and impatient Board.
+
+That some desperate move was imminent Frank realized. Here was Ruef
+between two bodeful dates. Yesterday had come the news that Langdon had
+appointed Heney--the relentless enemy of boodlers--to a place of power.
+Tomorrow would begin the impaneling of a Grand Jury, whose avowed
+purpose it was to "investigate municipal graft."
+
+"What would I do if I were Ruef?" Frank asked himself. But no answer
+came. He paced up and down the corridor, pondering the situation. At
+intervals he paused before the Supervisors' chamber. Once he found the
+door slightly ajar and listened shamelessly. He saw Big Jim Gallagher,
+red-faced, excited, apparently much flustered, reading a paper. He
+thought he heard Langdon's name and Heney's. There seemed to be
+dissension in the board. But before he learned anything definite a
+watchful attendant closed the portal with an angry slam. Frank resumed
+his pacing.
+
+Finally he went out for a bite to eat.
+
+Frank returned half an hour later to find the reporters' room in an
+uproar. Big Jim Gallagher had dismissed Langdon from office with the
+corroboration of the Board of Supervisors, as a provision of the city
+ordinance permitted him to do. Ruef had been appointed district
+attorney.
+
+Langdon's forces were not disconcerted by the little boss's coup. Late
+that evening Frank advised his paper of a counterstroke. Heney had
+aroused Judge Seawell from his slumbers and obtained an order of the
+court enjoining Ruef from actual assumption of the title he had
+arrogated to himself.
+
+Judge Graham upheld it. Langdon remained the district attorney. Though
+Ruef imposed every possible obstacle, the Grand Jury was impaneled,
+November 7, and began its work of investigation with such startling
+celerity that Ruef and Schmitz faced charges of extortion on five
+counts, a week later.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXIII
+
+IN THE TOILS
+
+Meanwhile Schmitz, who had but recently returned from Europe, became
+officially involved in the anti-Japanese agitation.
+
+"He's summoned East to see the President," said a Burns operative to
+Frank one morning as they met at Temple Israel. "Lucky devil, that big
+fellow! Here's the town at sixes and sevens about the 'little brown
+brother.' Doesn't want him with its white kids in the public schools.
+The Mikado stirs the devil of a row with Washington about it. And Teddy
+sends for 'Gene. Just his luck to come back a conquering hero."
+
+But Schmitz fared badly at the Capital, whence Roosevelt dispatched a
+"big stick" message to the California Legislature. At the same time
+George B. Keane, the Supervisors' clerk, and a State Senator as well,
+was working for the "Change of Venus bill," a measure which if passed,
+would have permitted Ruef to take his case out of the jurisdiction of
+Judge Dunne. But the bill was defeated. Once more Ruef's straining at
+the net of Justice had achieved no parting of the strands.
+
+On March 6 Stanley greeted Mayor Schmitz as he stepped from a train at
+Oakland Mole. Correspondents and reporters gathered round the tall,
+bearded figure. Schmitz looked tired, discouraged.
+
+Perfunctorily, uneasily, Schmitz answered the reporter's queries. He had
+done his level best for San Francisco. As for the charges pending
+against him, they would soon be disproved. No one had anything on him.
+All his acts were open to investigation.
+
+"Do you know that Ruef has skipped?" Frank asked.
+
+"Wh-a-a-t!" the Mayor set down his grip. He seemed struck all of a heap
+by the announcement.
+
+"Fact!" another newsman corroborated. "Abie's jumped his bond. He's the
+well-known 'fugitive from justice.'"
+
+Without a word the Mayor left them. He walked aboard the ferry boat
+alone. They saw him pacing back and forth across the forward deck, his
+long overcoat flapping in the wind, one hand holding the dark, soft hat
+down on his really magnificent head.
+
+"A ship without a rudder," said Frank. The others nodded.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Over the municipal administration was the shadow of Ruef's flight. The
+shepherd had deserted his flock. And the wolves of the law were howling.
+
+Frank was grateful to the Powers for this rushing pageant of political
+events. It gave him little chance to grieve. Now and then the tragedy of
+Bertha gripped him by the throat and shook him with its devastating
+loneliness. He found a certain solace in Aleta's company. She was always
+ready, glad to walk or dine with him. She knew his silences; she
+understood.
+
+But there were intervals of grief beyond all palliation; days when he
+worked blindly through a grist of tasks that seemed unreal. And at night
+he sought his room, to sit in darkness, suffering dumbly through the
+hours. Sometimes Dawn would find him thus.
+
+Robert Windham and his family had returned from the Hawaiian Islands.
+They had found a house in Berkeley; Windham opened offices on Fillmore
+street. Robert and his nephew visited occasionally a graveyard in the
+western part of town. The older man brought flowers and his tears fell
+frankly on a mound that was more recent than its neighbors. But Stanley
+did not join in these devotions.
+
+"She is not here," he said one day. "You know that, Uncle Robert."
+
+"She's up above," returned the other, brokenly. "My poor, wronged
+child!"
+
+Frank stared at him a moment. "Do you believe in the conventional
+Heaven?"
+
+"Why--er--yes," said Windham, startled. "Don't you, Frank?"
+
+"No," said Stanley, doggedly. "Not in that ... nor in a God that lets
+men suffer and be tempted into wrongs they can't resist ... makes them
+suffer for it."
+
+"What do you mean? Are you an atheist?" asked Windham, horrified.
+
+"No ... but I believe that God is Good. And knows no evil. Sometimes in
+the night when I've sat thinking, Bertha seems to come to me; tells me
+things I can't quite understand. Wonderful things, Uncle Robert."
+
+The other regarded him silently, curiously. He seemed at a loss.
+
+"I've learned to judge men with less harshness," Frank spoke on. "Ruef
+and Schmitz, for instance.... Every now and then I see the Mayor pacing
+on the ferryboat. It's rather pathetic, Uncle Robert. Did God raise him
+up from obscurity just to torture him? He's had wealth and
+honor--adoration from the people. Now he's facing prison. And those poor
+devils of Supervisors; they've known luxury, power. Now they're huddled
+like a pack of frightened sheep; everybody thinks they're guilty. Ruef's
+forsaken them. Ruef, with his big dream shattered, fleeing from
+the law...."
+
+He faced his uncle fiercely, questioning. "Is that God's work? And
+Bertha's body lying there, because of the sins of her forebears! Forgive
+me, Uncle Robert. I'm just thinking aloud."
+
+Windham placed a hand upon his nephew's shoulder. "I'm afraid I can't
+answer you, Frank," he said slowly. "You're a young man. You'll forget.
+The world goes on. And our griefs do not matter. We fall and we get up
+again ... just as Ruef and the others will."
+
+"Do you suppose they'll catch him--Ruef, I mean?"
+
+"Not if the big fellows can prevent it. If he's caught there'll be the
+deuce to pay. Our Pillars of Finance will topple.... No, I think Ruef
+is safe."
+
+"I don't quite understand," said Stanley.
+
+"Ruef, himself, is nothing; a political boss, a solicitor of bribes. But
+our corporation heads. The town will shake when they're accused, perhaps
+indicted. I know what's been going on. We're close to scandals that'll
+echo round the world."
+
+Frank looked at his uncle wonderingly. Windham was a corporation lawyer.
+Doubtless he knew. Silently the two men made their way out of the
+graveyard. Frank determined to ride down town with his uncle, and then
+telephone to Aleta. He hadn't seen her for a week.
+
+As the car passed the Call building they noted a crowd at Third and
+Market streets, reading a bulletin. People seemed excited. Frank jumped
+from the moving car and elbowed his way forward. In the newspaper window
+was a sheet of yellow paper inscribed in large script: "BURNS ARRESTS
+RUEF AT THE TROCADERO ROADHOUSE."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXXIV
+
+THE NET CLOSES
+
+Frank discussed the situation with Aleta one evening after Ruef's
+capture. Her friend, the Supervisor, had brought news of the alarm.
+
+"He says no one of them will trust the other; they're afraid of
+Gallagher; think he'll turn State's evidence, or whatever you call it.
+'Squeal,' was what he said."
+
+"Burns and Heney must be putting on the screws," commented Frank.
+
+"Frank," Aleta laid a hand impulsively upon his arm, "I don't suppose
+there's any way to save this man ... I--oh, Frank, it would be awful if
+he went to prison."
+
+He stared at her. "What do you mean, Aleta?"
+
+"I mean," she answered, "that he's done things for me ... because he
+loves me ... hopes to win me. He's sincere in that.... Oh, can't you see
+how it would hurt if--"
+
+"If he gets caught--stealing," Frank spoke harshly. "Well, you should
+have thought of that before, my dear."
+
+A touch of anger tinctured the appeal with which her eyes met his. "One
+doesn't always reason when the heart is sore. When one is bitter
+with--well--yearning."
+
+He did not answer. He was rather startled by that look. Finally she
+said, more gently: "Frank, you'll help him if you can--I know."
+He nodded.
+
+It was late. Aleta had to hurry to the theatre. Frank left her there and
+walked down Sutter street.
+
+He turned south toward Heney's office. It was in a little house between
+Geary and O'Farrell, up a short flight of stairs. Above were the living
+quarters of Heney and his companion, half clerk, half bodyguard.
+
+There was a light in the office, but the shades of the bay-window were
+tightly drawn. Frank rang the bell, which was not immediately answered.
+Finally the bodyguard came to the door. "Mr. Heney's very busy, very
+busy." He seemed tremendously excited.
+
+"Very well," said Frank; "I'll come tomorrow."
+
+"We'll have big news for you," the man announced. He shut the door
+hastily and double-locked it.
+
+Frank decided to remain in the neighborhood. He might learn something.
+The morning papers had been getting the best of it recently in the
+way of news.
+
+It proved a tiresome vigil. And the night was chilly. Frank began to
+walk briskly up and down the block. A dozen times he did this without
+result. Then the sudden rumble of a motor car spun him about. He saw two
+men hasten down the steps of Heney's office, almost leap into the car.
+Instantly it drove off. Frank, who followed to the corner, saw it
+traveling at high speed toward Fillmore street. He looked about for a
+motor cab in which to follow. There was none in sight. Reluctantly he
+turned toward home. He had been outwitted, doubtless by a watcher. But
+not completely. For he was morally certain that one of the men who left
+Heney's office was Big Jim Gallagher. That visit was significant. From
+his hotel Frank tried to locate the editor of his paper by telephone. He
+was not successful. He went to bed, disgusted, after leaving a
+daylight call.
+
+It was still dark when he dressed the next morning, the previous
+evening's events fresh in his thought.
+
+He had scarcely reached the street before a newsboy thrust a morning
+paper toward him. Frank saw that the upper half of the front page was
+covered with large black headlines. He snatched it, tossing the boy a
+"two-bit piece," and, without waiting or thinking of the change, became
+absorbed in the startling information it conveyed.
+
+Sixteen out of the eighteen Supervisors had confessed to taking bribes
+from half a dozen corporations. Wholesale indictments would follow, it
+was stated, involving the heads of public service companies--men of
+unlimited means, national influence. Many names were more than
+hinted at.
+
+Ruef, according to these confessions, had been the arch-plotter. He had
+received the funds that corrupted an entire city government. Gallagher
+had been the go-between, receiving a part of the "graft funds" to be
+divided among his fellow Supervisors.
+
+Each of the crooked sixteen had been guaranteed immunity from
+imprisonment in consideration of their testimony.
+
+"Well, that saves Aleta's friend, at any rate," thought Frank. He
+recalled his uncle's prediction that Ruef's capture would result in
+extraordinary revelations. But it had not been Ruef, after all, who
+"spilled the beans." Ruef might confess later. They would need his
+testimony to make the case complete.
+
+As a matter of fact, Ruef had already begun negotiations with Langdon
+and Heney looking toward a confession.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Grand Jury acted immediately upon the wholesale confessions of
+Ruef's Supervisors. They summoned before them the heads of many
+corporations, uncovering bribery so vast and open that they were
+astounded. They found that $200,000 had been paid for the trolley
+franchise and enormous sums for permits to raise gas rates, for
+telephone franchises, for prize-fight privileges and in connection with
+a realty transaction.
+
+The trolley bribe funds had been carried in a shirt box to Ruef by the
+company's attorney. Other transactions had been more or less "covered."
+But all were plain enough for instant recognition. San Francisco, which
+had suspected Ruef and his Supervisors with the easy tolerance of a
+people calloused to betrayal, was aroused by the insolent audacity of
+these transactions. It demanded blood.
+
+And Heney was prepared to furnish sanguine vengeance. He was after the
+"higher-ups," he stated. Like a passionate evangel of Mosaic law, he set
+out to secure it. Louis Glass, acting president of the telephone
+company, was indicted on a charge of felony, which made a great
+hallabaloo, for he was a personable man, a clubman, popular and
+generally esteemed.
+
+A subtle change--the primary index of that opposition which was to
+develop into a stupendous force--was noted by the prosecution. Heney and
+Langdon had been welcomed hitherto in San Francisco's fashionable clubs.
+Men of wealth and standing had been wont to greet them as they lunched
+there, commending their course, assuring them of cooperation.
+
+But after the telephone indictment there came a cooling of the
+atmosphere. Glass seemed more popular than ever. Langdon and Heney were
+often ignored. People failed to recognize them on the street. Even
+Spreckels and Phelan, despite their wealth and long established
+standing, suffered certain social ostracisms.
+
+Wealthy evildoers found themselves as definitely threatened by the law
+as were the Supervisors. But wealth is made of sterner stuff. It did not
+cringe nor huddle; could not seek immunity through the confessional.
+Famous lawyers found themselves in high demand. From New York, where he
+had fought a winning fight for Harry Thaw, came Delphin Delmas. T.C.
+Coogan, another famous pleader, entered the lists against Heney in
+defense of Glass.
+
+Meanwhile the drawing of jurors for Ruef's trial progressed, inexorably.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXV
+
+THE SEVEN PLAGUES
+
+Several weeks passed. Politics were in a hectic state, and people
+grumbled. Frank discussed the situation with his Uncle Robert. "Why
+don't they oust these grafters from office?" he asked.
+
+Windham smiled. "Because they daren't, Frank," he answered. "If the
+prosecution forced the Supervisors to resign, which would be easy
+enough, do you know what would happen?"
+
+"Why, they'd fill their posts with better men, of course."
+
+"Not so fast, my boy. The Mayor has the power to fill all vacancies due
+to resignations. Don't you see what would happen? Schmitz could select
+another board over whom the prosecution would hold no power. Then, if
+necessary, he'd resign and his new board would fill the Mayor's chair
+with some one whom Ruef or the Mayor could trust. Then the city
+government would once more be independent of the law."
+
+"Lord! What a tangle," Frank ruminated. "How will they straighten it
+out?"
+
+"Remove the Mayor--if they can convict him of felony."
+
+"Suppose they do. What then?"
+
+"The prosecution forces can then use their power over the
+boodlers--force them to appoint a Mayor who's to Langdon's liking.
+Afterward they'll force the Supervisors to resign and the new Mayor will
+put decent people in their stead."
+
+"Justice!" apostrophized Frank, "thy name is Red Tape!"
+
+Heney alone was to enter the lists against Delmas and Coogan in the
+trial of Louis Glass. The charge was bribing Supervisor Boxton to vote
+against the Home telephone franchise.
+
+Frank had seen Glass at the Press Club, apparently a sound and honest
+citizen. A little doubt crept into Frank's mind. If men like that could
+stoop to the bribing of Supervisors, what was American civilization
+coming to?
+
+He looked in at the Ruef trial to see if anything had happened. For the
+past two months there had been nothing but technical squabbles,
+interminable hitches and delays.
+
+Ruef was conferring with his attorneys. All at once he stepped forward,
+holding a paper in his hand. Tears were streaming down his face. He
+began to read in sobbing, broken accents.
+
+The crowd was so thick that Frank could not get close enough to hear
+Ruef's words. It seemed a confession or condonation. Scattered fragments
+reached Frank's ears. Then the judge's question, clearly heard, "What is
+your plea?"
+
+"Guilty!" Ruef returned.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ruef's confession served to widen the breach between Class and Mass. He
+implicated many corporation heads and social leaders in a sorry tangle
+of wrongdoing. Other situations added fuel to the flame of economic war.
+The strike of the telephone girls had popular support, a sympathy much
+strengthened by the charges of bribery pending against telephone
+officials.
+
+[Illustration: All at once he stepped forward.... Tears were streaming
+down his face. Then the judge's question, clearly heard, "What is your
+plea?" "Guilty!" Ruef returned.]
+
+Ten thousand ironworkers were on strike at a time when their service was
+imperative, for San Francisco was rebuilding feverishly. Capital made
+telling use of this to bolster its impaired position in the public mind.
+While "pot called kettle black," the city suffered. The visitation of
+some strange disease, which certain physicians hastened to classify
+as bubonic plague, very nearly brought the untold evils of a quarantine.
+A famous sanitarian from the East decided it was due to rats. He came
+and slew his hundred-thousands of the rodents. Meanwhile the malady had
+ceased. But there were other troubles.
+
+Fire had destroyed the deeds and titles stored in the Recorder's office,
+as well as other records. Great confusion came with property transfer
+and business contracts. But, worst of all, perhaps, was the street
+car strike.
+
+"It seems as though the Seven Plagues of Egypt were being repeated,"
+remarked Frank to his uncle as they lunched together. They had come to
+be rather good companions, with the memory of Bertha between them. For
+Frank, within the past twelve months, had passed through much
+illuminating experience.
+
+Robert Windham, too, was a changed man. He cared less for money. Frank
+knew that he had declined big fees to defend some of the "higher ups"
+against impending charges of the graft prosecution. Windham smiled as he
+answered Frank's comment about the Seven Plagues.
+
+"We'll come out of it with flying colors, my boy. A city is a great
+composite heart that keeps beating, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, but
+the healthy blood rules in the main; it conquers all passing
+distempers."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Market street was queer and unnatural without its rushing trolley cars.
+All sorts of horse-drawn vehicles rattled up and down, carrying
+passengers to and from the ferry. Many of the strikers were acting as
+Jehus of improvised stages. Autotrucks, too, were impressed into
+service. They rumbled along, criss-crossed with "circus seats,"
+always crowded.
+
+Frank made his way northward and east through the ruins. Here and there
+little shops had opened; eating houses for the army of rehabilitation.
+They seemed to Frank symbols of renewed life in the blackened waste,
+like tender, green shoots in a flame-ravaged forest. Sightseers were
+beginning to swarm through the burned district, seeking relics.
+
+A large touring car honked raucously almost in Frank's ear as he was
+crossing Sutter street, and he sprinted out of its lordly course,
+turning just in time to see the occupant of the back seat, a large man,
+rather handsome, in a hard, iron-willed way. He sat stiffly erect,
+unbending and aloof, with a kind of arrogance which just escaped being
+splendid. This was Patrick Calhoun, president of the United Railroads,
+who had sworn to break the Carmen's Union. It was said that Calhoun had
+sworn, though less loudly, to break the graft prosecution as well.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On Montgomery street several financial institutions were doing business
+in reclaimed ruins. One of these was the California Safe Deposit and
+Trust Company, which had made spectacular history of late. It was said
+that spiritualism entered into its affairs. Frank had been working on
+the story, which promised a sensation.
+
+As he neared the corner of California and Montgomery streets, where the
+crumbled bank walls had been transformed into a temporary habitation, he
+saw a crowd evidently pressing toward it. The bank doors were closed,
+though it was not yet three o'clock. Now and then people broke from the
+throng and wandered disconsolately away. One of these, a gray-haired
+woman, came in Frank's direction. He asked her what was wrong.
+
+"They're busted ... and they've got me money," she wailed.
+
+Hastily Frank verified her statement. Then he hurried to the office,
+found his notes and for an hour wrote steadily, absorbedly a spectacular
+tale of superstition, extravagance and financial chaos. As he turned in
+his copy the editor handed him a slip of paper on which was written:
+"Call Aleta Boice at once." He sought a telephone, but there was no
+response. He tried again, but vainly. A third attempt, however, and
+Aleta's voice, half frantic, answered his.
+
+"He's killed himself," she cried. "Oh, Frank, I don't know what to do."
+
+"He? Who?" Frank asked startled.
+
+"Frank, you know! The man who wanted me to--"
+
+"Do you mean the Supervisor?"
+
+"Yes.... They say it was an accident. But I know better. He lost his
+money in the safe deposit failure.... Oh, Frank, please come to
+me, quick."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXVI
+
+A NEW CITY GOVERNMENT
+
+Frank found Aleta, dry-eyed, frantic, pacing up and down her little
+sitting room which always looked so quaintly attractive with its jumble
+of paintings and bric-a-brac, its distinctive furniture and
+draperies--all symbolic of the helter-skelter artistry which was a part
+of Aleta's nature. She took Frank's hand and clung to it.
+
+"I'm so glad you've come," she whispered. "I'm so glad you've come."
+
+It was a little time ere she could tell him of the tragedy. The man had
+been run over, quickly killed. Witnesses had seen him stagger, fall
+directly in the path of an advancing car. A doctor called it apoplexy.
+
+"But I know better," sobbed Aleta, for the tears had come by now. "He
+never was sick in his life. He thought he'd lost me when the money went
+... his money in the California Safe Deposit Company."
+
+Frank took a seat beside her on the couch, whose flaming, joyous colors
+seemed a mockery just then. "Aleta," he said, "I wish I could help you.
+I wish I knew how, but I don't."
+
+She lifted her tear-stained eyes to his with a curious bitterness. "No
+... you don't. But thank you. Just your coming's helped me, Frank. I'm
+better. Go--and let me think things over." She tried to smile, but the
+tears came.
+
+"Life's a hideous puzzle. Perhaps if I'd gone with him, all would have
+come right.... I'd have made him happy."
+
+"But what about yourself?"
+
+Again that bitter, enigmatic look came to her eyes. "I guess ... that
+doesn't matter, Frank."
+
+He left her, a queer ache in his heart. Was she right about the man's
+committing suicide. Poor devil! He had stolen for a woman. Others had
+filched his plunder. Then God had taken his misguided life.
+
+But had He? Was God a murderer? A passive conniver at theft? No, that
+were blasphemy! Yet, if He _permitted_ such things--? No, that couldn't
+be, either. It was all an abominable enigma, as Aleta said. Unless--the
+thought came startlingly--it were all a dream, a nightmare. Thus Kant,
+the great philosopher, believed. Obsessed by the idea, he paused before
+a book-store. Its show window prominently displayed Francisco Stanley's
+latest novel.
+
+Frank missed the mellow wisdom of his father's counsel seriously. He
+entered the shop, found a volume of Kant and scanned it for some moments
+till he read:
+
+"This world's life is only an appearance, a sensuous image of the pure
+spiritual life, and the whole of Sense is only a picture swimming before
+our present knowing faculty like a dream and having no reality
+in itself."
+
+Acting upon a strange impulse, he bought the book, marked the passage
+and ordered it sent to Aleta.
+
+A week after Ruef's confession the trial of Mayor Schmitz began. It
+dragged through the usual delays which clever lawyers can exact by legal
+technicality. Judge Dunne, sitting in the auditorium of the Bush Street
+synagogue, between the six-tinned ceremonial candlesticks and in front
+of the Mosiac tablets of Hebraic law, dispensed modern justice.
+
+Meanwhile the Committee of Seven sprang suddenly into being. A morning
+paper announced that Schmitz had handed the reins of the city over to a
+septette of prominent citizens. Governor Gillette lauded this action.
+But Rudolph Spreckels disowned the Committee. Langdon and Heney were
+suspicious of its purpose. So the Committee of Seven resigned.
+
+At this juncture the Schmitz trial ended in conviction of the Mayor
+which was tantamount to his removal from office. It left a vacancy
+which, nominally, the Supervisors had the power to fill. But they were
+under Langdon's orders. Actually, therefore, the District Attorney found
+himself confronted by the task of naming a new mayor.
+
+Unexpectedly the man was found in Edward Robeson Taylor, doctor of
+medicine and law, poet and Greek scholar. The selection was hailed with
+relief. Frank hastened to the Taylor home, a trim, white dwelling on
+California street near Webster. He found a genial, curly-haired old
+gentleman sitting in a room about whose walls were thousands of books.
+He was reading Epictetus.
+
+Stanley found the new mayor likeable and friendly. He seemed a man of
+simple thought. Frank wondered how he would endure the roiling passions
+of this city's politics. Dr. Taylor seemed undaunted by the
+prospect, though.
+
+Without delay he was elected by the Supervisors. Then began the farcical
+procedure of their resignations. One by one the new chief named good
+citizens as their successors.
+
+But the real fight was now beginning. Halsey's testimony had not
+incriminated Glass beyond a peradventure. There remained a shade of
+doubt that he had authorized the outlay of a certain fund for the
+purposes of bribery. The jury disagreed. The Prosecution's first battle
+against the "higher-ups" had brought no victory.
+
+Ruef was failing Heney as a witness for the people. After months of
+bargaining the special prosecutor withdrew his tacit offer of immunity.
+Heney's patience with the wily little Boss, who knew no end of legal
+subterfuge, was suddenly exhausted. Frank heard that Ruef was to be
+tried on one of the three hundred odd indictments found against him.
+Schmitz had been sentenced to five years in San Quentin. He
+had appealed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Several times Frank tried to reach Aleta on the telephone. But she did
+not respond to calls, a fact which he attributed to disorganized
+service. But presently there came a letter from Camp Curry in the
+Yosemite Valley.
+
+"I am here among the everlasting pines and cliffs," she wrote, "thinking
+it all out. I thank you for the book, which has helped me. If only we
+might waken from our 'dream'! But here one is nearer to God. It is very
+quiet and the birds sing always in the golden sunshine.
+
+"I shall come back saner, happier, to face the world.... Perhaps I can
+forget myself in service, I think I shall try settlement work.
+
+"Meanwhile I am trying not to think of what has happened ... what can
+never happen. I am reading and painting. Yesterday a dog came up and
+licked my hand. I cried a little after that, I don't know why."
+
+In his room that evening, Frank re-read the letter. It brought a lump to
+his throat.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXVII
+
+NORAH FINDS OUT
+
+Very soon after the appointment of Mayor Taylor, the second trial of
+Louis Glass ended in his conviction. He was remanded to the county jail
+awaiting an appeal. The trial of an official of the United Railways
+began. Meanwhile the politicians rallied for election.
+
+Schmitz had been elected at the end of 1905. His term, which Dr. Taylor
+was completing, would be terminated with the closing of the present
+year. And now the Graft Prosecution was to learn by public vote how many
+of the people stood behind it.
+
+Union Labor, ousted and discredited by venal representatives, was not
+officially in favor of the Taylor-Langdon slate. P.H. McCarthy, labor
+leader and head of the Building Trades Council, was Labor's nominee
+for Mayor.
+
+Frank met McCarthy now and then. He posed as "a plain, blunt man," but
+back of the forthright handgrip, the bluff directness of manner, Frank
+scented a massive and wily self-interest. He respected the man for his
+power, his crude but undeniable executive talents.
+
+The two opponents for the Mayoralty were keenly contrasted. Taylor was
+quiet, suavely cultured, widely read but rather passive. Some said he
+lacked initiative.
+
+Frank MacGowan was Langdon's foeman in the struggle for the district
+attorneyship. Little could be said for or against him. A lawyer of good
+reputation who had made his way upward by merit and push, he had done
+nothing big. He was charged with no wrong.
+
+The "dark horse" was Daniel Ryan.
+
+Ryan was a young Irishman, that fine type of political leader who
+approximates what has sometimes been called a practical idealist. He had
+set out to reform the Republican Party and achieved a certain measure of
+success, for he had beaten the Herrin or Railroad forces at the
+Republican Convention. Ryan was avowedly pro-prosecution. It was
+believed that he would deliver his party's nomination to Taylor
+and Langdon.
+
+But he astonished San Francisco voters by becoming a candidate for
+mayor.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Aleta had returned from Camp Curry. There was a certain quiet in her
+eyes, a greater self-control, a better facing of Life's problems. They
+spoke of Kant and his philosophy. "The Nightmare is less turbulent,"
+she said.
+
+One evening at her apartment Frank met a young woman named France, a
+fragile, fine-haired, dreamy sort of girl, and he was not surprised to
+learn that she wrote poetry.
+
+"Norah's been working as a telephone operator," explained Aleta. "She's
+written a story about it--the working girl's wrongs.... Oh, not the
+ordinary wail-and-whine," she added hastily. "It's real meat. I've read
+it. The Saturday Magazine's considering it."
+
+Miss France smiled deprecatingly. "I have high hopes," she said. "I need
+the money."
+
+"It will give you prestige, too," Frank told her, but she shook her
+head.
+
+"Norah hasn't signed her name to it," Aleta disapproved. "Just because a
+friend, a well known writer in Carmel, has fixed it up for her
+a little."
+
+"It doesn't seem like mine," the girl remarked. Aleta rose. "This is
+election night," she said; "let's go down and watch the returns."
+
+They did this, standing on the fringe of a crowd that thronged about the
+newspaper offices, watching, eager, but patient, the figures which were
+flashed on a screen.
+
+The crowd was less demonstrative than is usual on such occasions. A
+feeling of anxiety prevailed, a consciousness of vital issues endangered
+and put to the test. Toward midnight the crowd grew thicker. But it was
+more joyous now. Taylor and Langdon were leading. It became evident that
+they must win.
+
+Suddenly the restless stillness of the throng was broken by spontaneous
+cheering. It was impressive, overwhelming, like a great burst of
+relieved emotion.
+
+Norah France caught Frank's arm as the celebrants eddied round them. The
+press was disbanding with an almost violent haste. "Where's Aleta?"
+asked the girl.
+
+Frank searched amid the human eddies, but in vain. "She got separated
+from us somehow," he said rather helplessly. They searched farther,
+without result. Aleta doubtless had gone home.
+
+"I wonder if you'd take me somewhere ... for a cup of coffee," said Miss
+France. The hand upon his arm grew heavy. "I'm a little faint."
+
+"Surely." He suggested a popular cafe, but she shook her head. "Just
+some quiet little place ... a 'chop house.' That's what the switch-girls
+call them."
+
+So they entered a pair of swinging doors inscribed "Ladies" on one side
+and "Gents" on the other. Miss France laughingly insisted that they pass
+each on the proper side of this divided portal. She was a creature of
+swift moods; one moment feverishly gay, the next brooding, with a
+penchant for satire. He wondered how she endured the hard work of a
+telephone switch-operator. But one felt that whatever she willed she
+would do. Eagerly she sipped her steaming coffee from a heavy crockery
+cup, nibbling at a bit of French bread. Then she said to him so suddenly
+that he almost sprang out of his chair.
+
+"Do you know that Aleta Boice loves you?"
+
+He looked at her annoyed and disturbed by the question.
+
+"No, I don't," he answered slowly. "Nor do I understand just what
+you're driving at, Miss France."
+
+"If you'll forgive me," her eyes were upon him, "I am driving at
+masculine obtuseness ... and Aleta's happiness."
+
+"Then you're wasting your time," he spoke sharply. "Aleta loves
+another.... She's told me so."
+
+"Did she tell you his name?"
+
+"No, some prig of a professor, probably.... Thinks he's 'not her kind.'"
+
+"Yes ... let's have another cup of coffee. Yes, Aleta told me that."
+
+Frank signalled to the waiter. "She's anybody's kind," he said,
+forcibly.
+
+"But not yours, Mr. Stanley."
+
+"Mine? Why not?"
+
+"Because you don't love her." Norah's tone was sad, half bitter. "Will
+you forgive me? I'm sorry I provoked you.... But I had to know....
+Aleta's such a dear. She's been so good to me."
+
+The Christmas holidays brought handsome stock displays to all the
+stores. San Francisco was still flush with insurance money but there was
+a pinch of poverty in certain quarters. The Refugee Camps had been
+cleared, public parks and squares restored to their normal state.
+
+Langdon and Heney worked on. Another jury brought a verdict of "not
+guilty" at the second trial of a trolley-bribe defendant. Some of the
+newspapers had changed by almost imperceptible degrees, were veering
+toward the cause of the defense.
+
+Then, like a thunderbolt, in January, 1908, came news that the Appellate
+Court had set aside the conviction of Ruef and Schmitz. Technical errors
+were assigned as the cause of this decision. The people gasped. But some
+of the newspapers defended the Appellate Judges' decree.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXVIII
+
+THE SHOOTING OF HENEY
+
+Heney and Langdon, who had had, perhaps, some inkling of an adverse
+decision, went grimly on. Enemies of Prosecution, backed by an enormous
+fund, were setting innumerable obstacles in their way. Witnesses
+disappeared or changed their testimony. Jurors showed evidence of having
+been tampered with. Through a subsidized press an active propaganda of
+Innuendo and Slander was begun.
+
+Calhoun's trial still loomed vaguely in the distance. Heney, overworked
+and harassed in a multitude of ways--keyed to a battle with ruffians,
+gun-men and shysters as well as the ablest exponents of law, developed a
+nervousness of manner, a bitterness of mind which sometimes led him
+to extremes.
+
+"He isn't sleeping well," his faithful bodyguard confided to Frank one
+afternoon when they met on Van Ness avenue. "He comes down in the
+morning trying to smile but I know he feels as though he'd like to bite
+my head off. I can see it in his eyes. He needs a rest."
+
+"Mr. Calhoun evidently thinks so, too," retorted Stanley. "The Honorable
+Pat is trying to retire him."
+
+"He'll never succeed," said the other explosively. "Frank Heney's not
+that kind. He'll fight on till he drops.... But I hate to see those
+boughten lawyers ragging him in court."
+
+Langdon, more phlegmatic of temperament, stood the gaff with less
+apparent friction. Hiram Johnson gave aid now and then which was always
+of value. There was a dauntless quality about the man, a rugged
+double-fisted force which made him feared by his opponents.
+
+Frank Stanley looked in at the second Ruef trial. He found it a
+kaleidoscope of dramatic and tragic events. Heney, who had been the
+target for a volley of insinuations from Ruef's attorneys, was nervous
+and distraught. Several times he had been goaded into altercation; had
+struck back with a bitterness that showed his mounting anger. Stanley
+noted that he was "on edge," and rather looked for "fireworks," as the
+reporters called these verbal duels of the Prosecution trials. But he
+was astonished to see Heney turn upon an unoffending juryman in sudden
+fury. The man had a fat, good-natured Teuton face with small eyes and a
+heavy manner. His name was Morris Haas. He had asked to be excused but
+the judge had not granted his plea.
+
+Now he seemed to cower in exaggerated fright before the Prosecutor's
+pointed finger. A little hush ensued. A tense dramatic pause. Then Heney
+branded Haas before the court-room as a former convict.
+
+The man broke down utterly. Many years before he had served a short term
+in prison. After his release he had married, raised a family, "lived a
+respectable life," as he pleaded in hysterical extenuation. He kept a
+grocery store.
+
+Haas stumbled from the court-room and Frank followed him. He could not
+help but feel a certain pity for the poor wretch, wailing brokenly that
+he was "ruined." He could never face his friends again. His customers
+would leave him. Frank learned the details of his ancient crime; he also
+ascertained that Haas had lived rightly since. The incident rankled. He
+wrote a guarded story of the affair. But he did not mention one episode
+of Haas' exposure. As the man staggered out Frank had heard another
+whisper sympathetically, "I would kill the man who did that to me."
+
+Justice often has its cruel, relentless aspects. Haas, with his weak,
+heavy face, stayed in Stanley's memory. An ordinary man might have tried
+again and won. But Haas was drunken with self-pity and the melancholy of
+his race. He would brood and suffer. Frank felt sorry for the man, and,
+somehow, vaguely apprehensive.
+
+Ruef's trial ended in a disagreement of the jury. It was a serious blow.
+Most of the San Francisco papers heaped abuse upon the Prosecution, its
+attorneys and its judges.
+
+Matters dragged along until the 13th of November. Gallagher was on the
+witness stand. He testified with the listlessness of many repetitions to
+the sordid facts of San Francisco's betrayal by venal public servants.
+It was all more or less perfunctory. Everyone had heard the tale from
+one to half a dozen times.
+
+Heney was at the attorneys' table talking animatedly with an assistant.
+The jury had left the room and Gallagher stepped down from the stand to
+have a word with the prosecutor. A few feet away was Heney's bodyguard
+lolling, plainly bored by the testimony. There was the usual buzz of
+talk which marks a lull in court proceedings.
+
+Into this scene came with covert tread a wild, dramatic figure. No one
+noted his approach. Morris Haas, glittering of eye, dishevelled, mad
+with loss of sleep and brooding, had crept into the court-room unheeded.
+He approached the attorneys' table stealthily.
+
+All at once Frank saw him standing within a foot of Heney. Something
+glittered in his outstretched hand. Frank shouted, but his warning lost
+itself in a wild cry of revengeful accusation. There was a sharp report;
+smoke rose. An acrid smell of exploded powder hung upon the air. Heney,
+with a cry, fell backward. Blood spurted from his neck.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Once more the city was afire with men's passions. Haas was rushed to the
+county jail and Heney to a hospital, where it was found, amid great
+popular rejoicing, that the wound was not a fatal one. Had it been
+otherwise no human power could have protected Haas from lynching.
+
+A great mass meeting was held. Langdon, Phelan, Mayor Taylor pleaded for
+order. "Let us see to it," said the last, "that no matter who else
+breaks the law, we shall uphold it." This became the keynote of the
+meeting. Rudolph Spreckels, who arrived late, was greeted with
+tumultuous cheering.
+
+Frank and Aleta were impressed by the spontaneity of the huge popular
+turnout. "It means," said the girl, as they made their exit, "that San
+Francisco is again aroused to its danger. What a great, good natured,
+easy-going body of men and women this town is! We feed on novelty and
+are easily wearied. That's why so many have back-slid who were strong
+for the Prosecution at first."
+
+"Yes, you're right," answered Frank. "We alternate between spasms of
+Virtue and comfortable inertias of Don't-care-a-Damn! That's San
+Francisco!"
+
+"The Good Gray City," he added after a little silence. "We love it in
+spite of its faults and upheavals, don't we, Aleta?"
+
+"Perhaps because of them." She squeezed his arm. For a time they walked
+on without speaking. "How is your settlement work progressing?" he asked
+at length.
+
+But she did not answer, for a shrieking newsie thrust a paper in her
+hand. "Buy an extra, lady," he importuned her. "All about Morris
+Haas' suicide!"
+
+She tossed him a coin and he rushed off, shrilling his tragic
+revelation. Huge black headlines announced that Heney's assailant had
+shot himself to death in his cell.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXIX
+
+DEFEAT OF THE PROSECUTION
+
+While Heney lay upon the operating table of a San Francisco hospital,
+three prominent attorneys volunteered to take his place. They were Hiram
+Johnson, Matt I. Sullivan and J.J. Dwyer. Ruef's trial went on with
+renewed vigor three days after the attempted killing, though the
+defendant's attorneys exhausted every expedient for delay. It was a case
+so thorough and complete that nothing could save the prisoner. He was
+found guilty of bribing a Supervisor in the overhead trolley transaction
+and sentenced to serve fourteen years in San Quentin penitentiary.
+
+Frank was in the court-room when Ruef's sentence was imposed. The Little
+Boss seemed oddly aged and nerveless; the old look of power was gone
+from his eyes. Frank recalled Ruef's plan of a political Utopia. The man
+had started with a golden dream, a genius for organization which might
+have achieved great things. But his lower self had conquered. He had
+sold his dream for gold. And retribution was upon him.
+
+Frank thought of Patrick Calhoun, large, blustering, arrogant with the
+pride of an old Southern family; the power of limitless wealth between
+him and punishment; a masterful figure who had broken a labor union and
+who scoffed at Law. And Eugene Schmitz, once happy as a fiddler. Schmitz
+was trying to face it out in the community. Frank could not tell if that
+was courage or a sort of impudence.
+
+During the holidays Frank visited his parents in San Diego. His
+granduncle, Benito Windham, had died abroad. And his mother was ailing.
+Frank and his father discussed the Prosecution.
+
+"It has had its day," the elder Stanley said. "Your public is listless,
+sick of the whole rotten mess. They've lost the moral perspective. All
+they want is to have it over."
+
+"I guess I feel the same way." Frank's eyes were downcast.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Sometimes Frank met Norah France at Aleta's apartment, but she carefully
+avoided further mention of the topic they had talked of on election
+night. Frank liked her poetry. With a spirit less morbid she would have
+made a name for herself he thought.
+
+Aleta was doing more and more settlement work. She had been playing
+second lead at the theater and had had a New York offer. Frank could not
+understand why she refused it. But Norah did, though she kept the secret
+from Frank.
+
+"Do you know how many talesmen have been called in the Calhoun trial?"
+Aleta asked, looking up from the newspaper. "There were nearly 1500 in
+the Ruef case. They called that a record." She laughed.
+
+"Of course Pat Calhoun would wish to outdo Abe Ruef," said Frank.
+"That's only to be expected. He's had close to 2500, I reckon."
+
+"Not quite," Aleta referred to the printed sheet. "Your paper says 2370
+veniremen were called into court. That's what money can do. If he'd been
+some poor devil charged with stealing a bottle of milk from the
+doorstep, how long would it take to convict him?"
+
+"It's a rotten world," the other girl spoke with a sudden gust of
+bitterness. "A world without honor or justice."
+
+"Or a nightmare," said Frank, with a glance at Aleta.
+
+"Well, if it is, I'm going to wake up soon--in one way or another," said
+Norah. "I will promise you that." To Frank the words seemed ominous. He
+left soon afterward.
+
+The Calhoun trial dragged interminably. Heney, not entirely recovered
+from his wound, but back in court, faced a battery of the country's
+highest priced attorneys. There were A.A. and Stanley Moore, Alexander
+King, who was Calhoun's law partner in the South; Lewis F. Byington, a
+former district attorney; J.J. Barrett, Earl Rogers, a sensationally
+successful criminal defender from Los Angeles, and Garret McEnerney.
+Heney had but one assistant, John O'Gara, a deputy in Langdon's office.
+
+For five long months the Prosecution fought such odds. Heney lost his
+temper frequently in court. He was on the verge of a nerve prostration.
+Anti-prosecution papers hinted that his faculties were failing. Langdon
+more or less withdrew from the fight. He was tired of it; had declined
+to be a candidate for the district attorneyship in the Fall. Heney was
+the Prosecution's only hope. He consented to run; which added to his
+legal labors the additional tasks of preparing for a campaign.
+
+It was not to be wondered at that Heney failed to convict Calhoun. The
+jury disagreed after many ballots. A new trial was set. But before a
+jury was empanelled the November ballot gave the Prosecution its "coup
+de grace."
+
+P.H. McCarthy was elected Mayor. Charles Fickert defeated Heney for the
+district attorneyship. An anti-Prosecution government took office.
+
+"Big Jim" Gallagher, the Prosecution's leading witness, disappeared.
+
+Fickert sought dismissal of the Calhoun case and finally obtained it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+San Francisco heaved a sigh of relief and turned its attention toward
+another problem. Its people planned a great world exposition to
+celebrate the opening of the Panama Canal.
+
+With the close of the Graft trials, San Francisco put its shoulders in
+concerted effort to the wheel. There were rivals now. San Diego claimed
+a prior plan. New Orleans was importuning Congress to support it in an
+Exposition. The Southern city sent its lobbying delegation to the
+Capitol. San Francisco seemed about to lose.
+
+But the city was aroused to one of its outbursts of pioneer energy. The
+Panama-Pacific International Exposition Company was organized. A meeting
+was called at the Merchants' Exchange. There, in two hours, $4,000,000
+was subscribed by local merchants.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XC
+
+THE MEASURE OF REDEMPTION
+
+Frank journeyed East with a party of "Exposition Boosters" after the
+memorable meeting in the Merchants' Exchange. The import of that
+afternoon's work had been flashed around the world. It swung the tide of
+public sentiment from New Orleans toward the Western Coast. Congress
+heard the clink of Power in those millions. President Taft discerned a
+spirit of efficiency that would guarantee success. He did not desire
+another Jamestown fiasco. He had an open admiration for the city which
+in four years could rebuild itself from ashes, suffer staunchly through
+disrupting ordeals of political upheaval and unite its forces in a
+mighty plan to entertain the World.
+
+Frank went to the White House for an interview. He clasped the large,
+firm hand which had guided so many troubled ships of state for the
+Roosevelt regime, looked into the twinkling eyes that hid so keen a
+force behind their kindness. Stanley soon discovered that in this big,
+bluff President his city had a friend.
+
+"What shall I say to the people at home for you, Mr. President? Will you
+give me a message?"
+
+The Chief Executive was thoughtful for an instant. Then he said, "Go
+back, my boy, and tell them this from me, 'SAN FRANCISCO KNOWS HOW!'"
+
+Frank left the White House, eager and enthusiastic; sought a telegraph
+office. On the following day Market street blazed with the slogan.
+
+In New York, where he went from Washington, Frank heard echoes of that
+speech. San Francisco's cause gained new and sudden favor. Frank found
+the Eastern press, which hitherto had favored New Orleans, was veering
+almost imperceptibly toward the Golden Gate.
+
+He met many San Franciscans in New York. John O'Hara Cosgrave was
+editing Everybody's Magazine, "Bob" Davis was at the head of the Munsey
+publications, Edwin Markham wrote world-poetry on Staten Island, "in a
+big house filled with books and mosquitoes," as a friend described it.
+"Bill" and Wallace Irwin were there, the former "batching" in a flat on
+Washington Square. All of them were glad to talk of San Francisco.
+
+Charley Aiken, editor of Sunset Magazine, was with the boosters. Stanley
+met him in New York. He had a plan for buying the publication from its
+railroad sponsors; making it an independent organ of the literary West.
+Things were looking up for San Francisco.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Frank was glad to get back. He had enjoyed his visit to the East. But it
+was mighty good to ride up Market street again. It looked quite as it
+did before the fire. One would have found it difficult to believe that
+this new city with its towering, handsome architecture, had lain, a few
+years back, the shambles of the greatest conflagration history
+has known.
+
+On Christmas eve Frank and Aleta went down town to hear Tetrazzini sing
+in the streets. The famous prima donna faced an audience which numbered
+upward of a hundred thousand. They thronged--a joyous celebrant, dark
+mass--on Market, Geary, Third and Kearny streets. Every window was
+ablaze, alive with silhouetted figures. Frank, who had engaged a window
+in the Monadnock Block, could not get near the entrance. So he and Aleta
+stood in the street.
+
+"It's nicer," she whispered happily, "to be here among the people.... I
+feel closer to them. As if I could sense the big Pulse of Life that
+makes us all brothers and sisters."
+
+Frank looked down at her understandingly, but did not speak. Tetrazzini
+had begun her song. Its first notes floated faintly through the vast and
+unwalled auditorium. Then her voice grew clearer, surer.
+
+Never had those bustling, noisy streets known such a stillness as
+prevailed this night. The pure soprano which had thrilled a world of
+high-priced audiences rang out in a wondrous clarion harmony. It moved
+many people to tears. The response was overwhelming. Something in that
+vast human pack went out to the singer like a tidal wave. Not the
+deafening fusilade of hand-clapping nor the shouted "Bravos!" It was
+something deeper, subtler. Tetrazzini stepped forward. Tears streamed
+from her eyes. She blew impulsive kisses to the crowd.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The pageant of the months went on. A coal merchant by the name of Rolph
+had displaced P.H. McCarthy as Mayor of San Francisco. He had installed
+what was termed "a business administration." San Francisco seemed
+pleased with the result. Power of government had returned to the "North
+of Market Street."
+
+San Francisco had been selected by Congress as the site of the
+exposition. It was scheduled for 1915 and the Panama Canal approached
+completion.
+
+Frank was living with his father at the Press Club. His mother was dead.
+He had given up newspaper work, except for an occasional editorial.
+Through his father's influence he had found publication for a novel. He
+was something of a public man now, despite his comparative youth.
+
+Occasionally he saw his Uncle Robert. Two of his cousins had married.
+The third, an engineer, had gone to Colorado. Robert Windham and his
+wife were planning a year of travel.
+
+Sometimes Windham and his nephew talked of Bertha. It was a calmer, more
+dispassionate talk as time went on, for years blunt every pain. One day
+the former said, with tentative defiance, "I suppose you'll think
+there's something wrong about me, boy.... But I loved her mother deeply.
+Honestly--if one can call it that. If I'd had a certain kind of--well,
+immoral--courage, I'd have married her.... Just think how different all
+our lives would have been. But I hadn't the heart to hurt Maizie; to
+break with her ... nor the courage to give up my position in life. So we
+parted. I didn't know then--"
+
+"That you had a daughter?" questioned Frank. His uncle nodded. "Perhaps
+it would have made a difference ... perhaps not."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Aleta had a week's vacation. They were playing a comedy in which she had
+no part. So she had gone to Carmel to visit her friend Norah France.
+
+Frank decided to look in on them. He had been oddly shaken by the talk
+with his uncle. What tragedies men hid beneath the smooth exteriors of
+successful careers? He had always thought his uncle's home a happy one.
+Doubtless it was--happy enough. Love perhaps was not essential to
+successful unions. Frank wondered why he had not asked Aleta Boice to be
+his wife. They were good comrades, had congenial tastes. They would both
+be better off; less lonely. A sudden, long-forgotten feeling stirred
+within his heart. He had missed Aleta in the past few days. Why not go
+to her now; lay the question before her? Perhaps love might come to
+them both.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XCI
+
+CONCLUSION
+
+For years thereafter Frank was haunted by the wraiths of vain
+conjecture--morbid questionings of what might have occurred if he had
+caught the train for Monterey that afternoon. For he was not to seek
+Aleta at Carmel. An official of the Exposition Company met Frank on the
+street. They talked a shade too long. Frank missed the train by half a
+minute. He shrugged his shoulders petulantly, found his father at the
+club. That evening they attended a comedy.
+
+He was not yet out of bed when the office telephoned him the next
+morning. "Didn't he know Norah France rather well?" the City Editor
+inquired. Frank admitted it sleepily.
+
+Had he a picture of her?
+
+Frank denied this. No. He didn't know where one might be obtained. Had
+Norah printed a poem or something? W-h-a-a-t!
+
+The voice at the telephone repeated its message. "Norah France was found
+dead in her room at Carmel this morning. Suicide probably. Empty vial
+and a letter.... The Carmel authorities haven't come through yet."
+
+Frank began to dress hurriedly. Again the telephone rang. Wire for him.
+Should they send it up? No, he would be down in a minute.
+
+The telegram was from Aleta. It read: "Am returning noon train. See you
+at my apartment six P.M."
+
+Stanley did not see his father in the dining room. He gulped a cup of
+coffee and went down to the office. He had planned an editorial for
+today. But his mind was full of Norah France just now.
+
+Poor child! How she had loved life in her strangely vivid moods! And how
+she had brooded upon its injustice in her alternating tempers of
+depression! He remembered now Aleta's mention of a love affair that
+turned out badly. Aleta had gone down to hearten her friend from these
+dolors. And he recalled, with a desperate, tearing remorse, a
+casual-enough remark of Norah's: "You always cheer me up, Frank, when
+you come to see me."
+
+He recalled, as well, her comment, months before, that she would awake
+from her dream in one way or another. Well, she had fulfilled her
+promise. God grant, he thought passionately, that the awakening had been
+in a happier world.
+
+At six o'clock he went to Aleta's apartment. She had not yet arrived but
+presently she came. He saw that she had been crying. She could
+scarcely speak.
+
+"Frank, let us walk somewhere," she said. "I can't go upstairs; it's too
+full of memories. And I can't sit still. I've got to keep moving--fast."
+
+They strode off together, taking a favorite walk through the Presidio
+toward the Beach. From a hill-top they saw the Exposition buildings
+rising from what once had been a slough.
+
+Aleta paused and looked down.
+
+"It's easier to bear--up here," she spoke in an odd, weary monotone, as
+if she were thinking aloud. "This morning ... I think, if Norah had left
+anything in the bottle ... I'd have taken it, too."
+
+"Why did she do it?" Frank asked quickly.
+
+Aleta faced him. "Norah loved a man ... he wasn't worthy. She could see
+no hope. I wished, Frank, that you might have been there yesterday. You
+used to cheer her so!"
+
+"Don't!" he cried out sharply.
+
+The Exposition progressed marvelously. Often Frank and Aleta climbed
+the winding Presidio ascent and gazed upon its growing wonders.
+
+"Beauty will come out of it all," she said one day. "Out of our travail
+and sorrow and sin. I wish that Norah was here. She loved beauty so!"
+
+"Perhaps she is here.... Who knows?"
+
+She looked at him startled. He was staring off across the Exposition
+site, toward the Golden Gate, where a great ship, all its sails spread,
+swam mysteriously luminous with the sunset.
+
+"It's beautiful," he said, a catch in his voice. "It's like life ...
+coming home in the end ... after long strivings with tempest and wave. I
+wonder--" he turned to her slowly, "Aleta, will it be like that
+with us?"
+
+"Home!" she spoke the word tenderly. "I wonder what it's like ... I've
+never known."
+
+He drew his breath sharply. "Aleta--will you marry me?"
+
+Her eyes filled but she did not answer. Presently she shook her head.
+
+He looked at her dumbly, questioning. "You don't love me, Frank," she
+said at last.
+
+He could not answer her. His eyes were on the ground. A hundred thoughts
+came to his mind; thoughts of an almost overwhelming tenderness;
+thoughts of reverence for her; of affection, comradeship. But they were
+not the right thoughts. They were not what she wanted.
+
+Presently they turned and went toward the town together.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A Fairyland of gardens and lagoons sprung into existence. Great artists
+labored with a kind of beauty-madness in its making. Nine years after
+San Francisco lay in ashes its doors opened to the world. From Ruins had
+grown a Great Dream, one so beautiful and strong, it seemed unreal.
+
+Aleta and Frank went often. To them the Exposition was a rhapsody of
+silent music and they seldom broke its harmonies with speech.
+
+Frank had not recurred to the question he had asked on Presidio Hill.
+But out of it had come an unspoken compact, a comradeship of spirit that
+was very sweet.
+
+They stood one day on the margin of Fine Arts Lagoon, gazing down at the
+marvelous reflections of the great dome and its pillared colonnade.
+"Frank," the girl said almost in a whisper, "I believe that Love is
+God's heart, beating, beating ... through the Whole of Life." He turned
+and saw that her eyes were radiant. "And I think that when we feel its
+rhythm in us, it's like a call. A call to--"
+
+"What?" he asked abashed.
+
+"Service.... Frank," she faced him questioningly, half fearful. "You'll
+forgive me, won't you? I--I'm going away."
+
+She expected protest, exclamation. Instead he asked her, very quietly:
+"To Europe, Aleta? The Red Cross?"
+
+"Yes," she said, surprised. "How did you know?"
+
+"I--I'm going, myself. As a stretcher bearer."
+
+"Then--" her eyes were stars, "you've felt it, too?"
+
+He nodded.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the deck of an outbound steamer stood two figures. The sky was gray.
+Drifts of fog hung plume-like over Alcatraz, veiled the Exposition domes
+and turrets in a mystic glory. Sometimes it was like a great white
+nothingness; then, as if by magic, Color, Forms and Beauty leaped forth
+like some startling vision from a Land of Make Believe.
+
+The woman at the stern-rail stretched forth her arms. "Goodbye," her
+words were like a song, a song of heartbreak, mixed with exultation.
+"Goodbye, Oh my City of Dreams!"
+
+"We will come back," said the man shakily. "We will come with new peace
+in our hearts."
+
+"Perhaps," she replied, "but it will not matter. San Francisco will go
+on, big, generous, unafraid in its sins and virtues. Oh, Frank, I love
+it, don't you? I want it to be the greatest city in the world!"
+
+He made no answer but he caught her hand and pressed it. The fog came
+down about them like a mantle and shut them in.
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12560 ***
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+<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12560 ***</div>
+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Port O' Gold, by Louis John Stellman</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr class="full" noshade>
+<br>
+<br>
+<a name="frontispiece.jpg"></a>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" width="75%" alt=
+""><br>
+<b>As they looked the sunlight triumphed, scattering the fog into
+queer floating shapes, luminous and fraught with weird
+suggestions.... One might have thought a splendid city lay before
+them, ... impalpable, yet triumphant, with its hint of
+destiny.</b></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h1>PORT O' GOLD</h1>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<h3>A HISTORY-ROMANCE OF THE<br>
+SAN FRANCISCO ARGONAUTS</h3>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<h2>LOUIS J. STELLMAN</h2>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/002.jpg" width="100" alt=""></p>
+<h4>1922</h4>
+<br>
+<br>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>TO THE CITY OF MY ADOPTION AND REBIRTH</p>
+<p class="i6">SAN FRANCISCO</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Oft from my window have I seen the day</p>
+<p>Break o'er thy roofs and towers like a dream</p>
+<p>In mystic silver, mirrored by the Bay,</p>
+<p>Bedecked with shadow craft ... and then a gleam</p>
+<p>Of golden sunlight cleaving swiftly sure</p>
+<p>Some narrow cloud-rift--limning hill or plain</p>
+<p>With flecks of gypsy-radiance that endure</p>
+<p>But for the moment and are gone again.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Then I have ventured on thy strident streets,</p>
+<p>Mid whir of traffic in the vibrant hour</p>
+<p>When Commerce with its clashing cymbal greets</p>
+<p>The mighty Mammon in his pomp of power....</p>
+<p>And in the quiet dusk of eventide,</p>
+<p>As wearied toilers quit the marts of Trade,</p>
+<p>Have I been of their pageant--or allied</p>
+<p>With Passion's revel in the Night Parade.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Oh, I have known thee in a thousand moods</p>
+<p>And lived a thousand lives within thy bounds;</p>
+<p>Adventured with the throng that laughs or broods,</p>
+<p>Trod all thy cloisters and thy pleasure grounds,</p>
+<p>Seen thee, in travail from the fiery torch,</p>
+<p>Betrayed by Greed, smirched by thy sons' disgrace--</p>
+<p>Rise with a spirit that no flame can scorch</p>
+<p>To make thyself a new and honored place.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah, Good Gray City! Let me sing thy song</p>
+<p>Of western splendor, vigorous and bold;</p>
+<p>In vice or virtue unashamed and strong--</p>
+<p>Stormy of mien but with a heart of gold!</p>
+<p>I love thee, San Francisco; I am proud</p>
+<p>Of all thy scars and trophies, praise or blame</p>
+<p>And from thy wind-swept hills I cry aloud</p>
+<p>The everlasting glory of thy name.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>PREFACE</h2>
+<br>
+<p>This is the story of San Francisco. When a newspaper editor
+summoned me from the mountains to write a serial he said:</p>
+<p>"I've sent for you because I believe you love this city more
+than any other writer of my acquaintance or knowledge. And I
+believe the true story of San Francisco will make a more dramatic,
+vivid, human narrative than any fiction I've ever read.</p>
+<p>"Take all the time you want. Get everything straight, and <i>put
+all you've got into this story</i>. I'm going to wake up the town
+with it."</p>
+<p>To the best of my ability, I followed the editor's instructions.
+He declared himself satisfied. The public responded generously. The
+serial was a success.</p>
+<p>But, ah! I wish I might have written it much better ... or that
+Robert Louis Stevenson, for instance, might have done it in my
+stead.</p>
+<p>"Port O' Gold" is history with a fiction thread to string its
+episodes upon. Most of the characters are men and women who have
+lived and played their parts exactly as described herein. The
+background and chronology are as accurate as extensive and
+painstaking research can make them.</p>
+<p>People have informed me that my fictional characters, vide
+Benito, "took hold of them" more than the "real ones" ... which is
+natural enough, perhaps, since they are my own brain-children,
+while the others are merely adopted. Nor is this anything to be
+deplored. The writer, after all, is first an entertainer.
+Indirectly he may edify, inform or teach. My only claim is that
+I've tried to tell the story of the city that I love as truly and
+attractively as I was able. My only hope is that I have been worthy
+of the task.</p>
+<p>Valuable aid in the accumulation of historical data for this
+volume was given by:</p>
+<p>Robert Rea, librarian, San Francisco Public Library;</p>
+<p>Mary A. Byrne, manager Reference Department, San Francisco
+Public Library;</p>
+<p>John Howell and John J. Newbegin, booksellers and collectors of
+Californiana, for whose cheerful interest and many courtesies the
+author is sincerely grateful.</p>
+<p class="loc">THE AUTHOR.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+<center><a href="#CHAPTER_I">I Yerba Buena.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_II">II The Gambled Patrimony.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_III">III The Gringo Ships.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV American Occupation.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_V">V An Offer and a Threat.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI The First Election.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII The Rancheros Revolt.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII McTurpin's Coup.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">IX The Elopement.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_X">X Hull "Capitulates".</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">XI San Francisco is Named.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">XII The New York Volunteers.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">XIII The "Sydney Ducks".</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">XIV The Auction on the Beach.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">XV The Beginning of Law.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">XVI Gold! Gold! Gold!</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">XVII The Quest of Fortune.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">XVIII News of Benito.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">XIX The Veiled Woman.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">XX A Call in the Night.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">XXI Outfacing the Enemy.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">XXII Shots in the Dark.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">XXIII The New Arrival.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">XXIV The Chaos of '49.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">XXV Retrieving a Birthright.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">XXVI Fire! Fire! Fire!</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">XXVII Politics and a Warning.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">XXVIII On the Trail of McTurpin.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">XXIX The Squatter Conspiracy.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">XXX "Growing Pains".</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">XXXI The Vigilance Committee.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">XXXII The People's Jury.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">XXXIII The Reckoning.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">XXXIV The Hanging of Jenkins.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">XXXV The People and the Law.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">XXXVI Fevers of Finance.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">XXXVII "Give Us Our Savings".</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">XXXVIII King Starts the
+Bulletin.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">XXXIX Richardson and Cora.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XL">XL The Storm Gathers.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLI">XLI The Fateful Encounter.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLII">XLII The Committee Organizes.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIII">XLIII Governor Johnson Mediates.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIV">XLIV The Truce is Broken.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLV">XLV The Committee Strikes.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVI">XLVI Retribution.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVII">XLVII Hints of Civil War.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVIII">XLVIII Sherman Resigns.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIX">XLIX Terry Stabs Hopkins.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_L">L The Committee Disbands.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LI">LI Senator Broderick.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LII">LII A Trip to Chinatown.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LIII">LIII Enter Po Lun.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LIV">LIV The "Field of Honor".</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LV">LV The Southern Plot.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LVI">LVI Some War Reactions.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LVII">LVII Waters Pays the Price.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LVIII">LVIII McTurpin Turns Informer.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LIX">LIX The Comstock Furore.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LX">LX The Shattered Bubble.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXI">LXI Desperate Finance.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXII">LXII Adolph Sutro's Tunnel.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXIII">LXIII Lees Solves a Mystery.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXIV">LXIV An Idol Topples.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXV">LXV Industrial Unrest.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXVI">LXVI The Pick-Handle Parade.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXVII">LXVII Dennis Kearney.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXVIII">LXVIII The Woman Reporter.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXIX">LXIX A New Generation.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXX">LXX Robert and Maizie.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXI">LXXI The Blind Boss.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXII">LXXII Fate Takes a Hand.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXIII">LXXIII The Return.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXIV">LXXIV The "Reformer".</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXV">LXXV A Nocturnal Adventure.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXVI">LXXVI Politics and Romance.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXVII">LXXVII Aleta's Problem.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXVIII">LXXVIII The Fateful Morn.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXIX">LXXIX The Turmoil.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXX">LXXX Aftermath.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXXI">LXXXI Readjustment.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXXII">LXXXII At Bay.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXXIII">LXXXIII In the Toils.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXXIV">LXXXIV The Net Closes.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXXV">LXXXV The Seven Plagues.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXXVI">LXXXVI A New City Government.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXXVII">LXXXVII Norah Finds Out.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXXVIII">LXXXVIII The Shooting of Heney.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXXIX">LXXXIX Defeat of the Prosecution.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XC">XC The Measure of Redemption.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XCI">XCI Conclusion.</a></center>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+<p><a href="#frontispiece.jpg">As they looked, the sunlight
+triumphed, scattering the fog into queer, floating shapes, luminous
+and fraught with weird suggestions.... One might have thought a
+splendid city lay before them, ... impalpable, yet triumphant, with
+its hint of destiny. <i>Frontispiece</i>.</a></p>
+<p><a href="#page044.jpg">"Ah, Senor," Inez' smile had faded, ...
+"they have cause for hatred".</a></p>
+<p><a href="#page084.jpg">Men with shovels, leveling the
+sand-hills, piled the wagons high with shimmering grains which were
+... dumped into pile-surrounded bogs. San Francisco reached farther
+and farther out into the bay.</a></p>
+<p><a href="#page088.jpg">Samuel Brannan rode through the streets,
+holding a pint flask of gold-dust in one hand ... and whooping like
+a madman: "Gold! Gold! Gold! From the American River".</a></p>
+<p><a href="#page122.jpg">Passersby who laughed at the inscription
+witnessed simultaneously the rescue of an almost submerged donkey
+by means of an improvised derrick.</a></p>
+<p><a href="#page130.jpg">Broderick's commanding figure was seen
+rushing hither and thither.... "You and two others. Blow up or pull
+down that building," he indicated a sprawling, ramshackle
+structure.</a></p>
+<p><a href="#page182.jpg">There sat the redoubtable captain, all
+the ... austerity of his West Point manner melted in the indignity
+of sneezes and wheezes.... "Money! God Almighty! Sherman, there's
+not a loose dollar in town".</a></p>
+<p><a href="#page200.jpg">"Draw and defend yourself," he said
+loudly. He shut his eyes and a little puff of smoke seemed to
+spring from the end of his fingers, followed ... by a sharp
+report.</a></p>
+<p><a href="#page224.jpg">In front of the building on a high
+platform, two men stood.... A half-suppressed roar went up from the
+throng.</a></p>
+<p><a href="#page260.jpg">Terry, who had taken careful aim, now
+fired. Broderick staggered, recovered himself. Slowly he sank to
+one knee.</a></p>
+<p><a href="#page268.jpg">The concourse broke into applause. Then
+it was hysteria, pandemonium. Fifty thousand knew their city was
+safe for Anti-Slavery.</a></p>
+<p><a href="#page308.jpg">Half a thousand jobless workers, armed
+and reckless, marched toward the docks. They bore torches.... "A
+hell-bent crew," said Ellis.</a></p>
+<p><a href="#page330.jpg">"My boy ... you're wasting your time as a
+reporter. Listen," he laid a hand upon Francisco's knee. "I've a
+job for you.... The new Mayor will need a secretary".</a></p>
+<p><a href="#page342.jpg">"Perhaps I shall find me a man--big,
+strong, impressive--with a mind easily led.... Then I shall train
+him to be a leader.... I shall furnish the brain".</a></p>
+<p><a href="#page374.jpg">"I am going South," Francisco told his
+son. "I cannot bear this".</a></p>
+<p><a href="#page388.jpg">All at once he stepped forward.... Tears
+were streaming down his face. Then the judge's question, clearly
+heard, "What is your plea?" "Guilty!" Ruef returned.</a></p>
+<h3>A HISTORY-ROMANCE OF THE<br>
+SAN FRANCISCO ARGONAUTS</h3>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>PROLOGUE</h2>
+<h3>THE VISION</h3>
+<br>
+<p>"Blessed be the Saints. It is the Punta de Los Reyes." The
+speaker was a bearded man of middle years. A certain nobleness
+about him like an ermine garment of authority was purely of the
+spirit, for he was neither of imposing height nor of commanding
+presence. His clothing hung about him loosely and recent illness
+had drawn haggard lines upon his face. But his eyes flashed like an
+eagle's, and the hand which pointed northward, though it trembled,
+had the fine dramatic grace of one who leads in its imperious
+gesture. He swept from his head the once magnificent hat with its
+scarred velour and windtorn plume, bending one knee in a movement
+of silent reverence and thanksgiving. This was Gaspar de Portola,
+October 31,1769.</p>
+<p>Near him stood his aides. All of them were travel-stained,
+careworn with hardship and fatigue. Following their chieftain they
+uncovered and knelt. To one side and a little below the apex of a
+rocky promontory that contained the little group, Christian
+Indians, muleteers and soldados crossed themselves and looked up
+questioningly. In a dozen litters sick men tossed and moaned. A
+mule brayed raucously, startling flocks of wild geese to flight
+from nearby cliffs, a herd of deer on a mad stampede inland.</p>
+<p>Portola rose and swept the horizon with his half-fevered gaze.
+To the south lay the rugged shore line with its sea-corroded
+cliffs, indented at one point into a half-moon of glistening beach
+and sweeping on again into vanishing and reappearing shapes of
+mist.</p>
+<p>Far to the northwest a giant arm of land reached out into the
+water, high and stark and rocky; further on a group of white
+farallones lay in the tossing foam and over them great flocks of
+seabirds dipped and circled. Finally, along the coast to the
+northward, they descried those chalk cliffs which Francis Drake had
+aptly named New Albion, and still beyond, what seemed to be the
+mouth of an inlet.</p>
+<p>Dispute sprang up among them. Since July 14th they had been
+searching between this place and San Diego for the port of
+Monterey. "Perhaps this is the place," said Crespi, the priest,
+reluctantly. "Vizcaino may have been amiss when he located it in 37
+degrees."</p>
+<p>"Yes," spoke Captain Fernando de Rivera, "these explorers are
+careless dogs. One seldom finds the places they map out so gaily.
+And what do they care who dies of the hunger or scurvy--drinking
+their flagons in Mexico or Madrid? A curse, say I, on the lot of
+them."</p>
+<p>Portola turned an irritated glance of disapproval on his
+henchmen. "What say you, my pathfinder?" he addressed Sergeant Jose
+Ortega, chief of Scouts.</p>
+<p>"That no one may be certain, your excellency," the scout-chief
+answered. "But," his eyes met those of his commander with a look of
+grim significance, "one may learn."</p>
+<p>Portola laid a hand almost affectionately on the other's
+leather-covered shoulder. Here was a man after his heart. Always he
+had been ahead of the van, selecting camp sites, clearing ways
+through impenetrable brush, fighting off hostile savages. Now, ill
+and hungry as he was, for rations had for several days been down to
+four tortillas per man, Ortega was ready to set forth again.</p>
+<p>"You had better rest, Saldado. You are far from well. Start
+to-morrow."</p>
+<p>Ortega shrugged. "Meanwhile they mutter," his eyes jerked to the
+indiscriminate company below.</p>
+<p>"When men march and have a motive, they forget their grievances.
+When they lie in camp the devil stalks about and puts mischief into
+their thought. I have been a soldier for fourteen years, your
+excellency."</p>
+<p>"And I for thirty," said the other dryly, but he smiled. "You
+are right, my sergeant. Go. And may your patron saint, the reverend
+father of Assisi, aid you."</p>
+<p>Ortega saluted and withdrew. "I will require three days with
+your excellency's grace," he said. Portola nodded and observed
+Ortega's sharp commands wheel a dozen mounted soldados into line.
+They galloped past him, their lances at salute and dashed with a
+clatter of hoofs into the valley below.</p>
+<p>Young Francisco Garvez spurred his big mare forward till he rode
+beside the sergeant. A tall, half-lanky lad he was with the eager
+prescience of youth, its dreams and something of its shyness hidden
+in the dark alertness of his mien.</p>
+<p>"Whither now, my sergeant?" he inquired with a trace of pertness
+as he laid a hand upon the other's pommel. "Do we search again for
+that elusive Monterey? Methinks Vizcaino dreamed it in his cups."
+He smiled, a flash of strong, white teeth relieving the half-weary
+relaxation of his features, and Ortega turning, answered him:</p>
+<p>"Perhaps the good St. Francis hid it from our eyes--that we
+might first discover this puerto christened in his honor. We have
+three days to reach the Punta de los Reyes, which Vizcaino named
+for the kings of Cologne."</p>
+<p>For a time the two rode on in silence. Then young Garvez
+muttered: "It is well for Portola that your soldados love you....
+Else the expedition had not come thus far." The sergeant looked at
+his companion smolderingly, but he did not speak. He knew as well
+as anyone that the Governor's life was in danger; that conspiracy
+was in the air. And it was for this he had taken with him all the
+stronger malcontents. Yes, they loved him--whatever treachery might
+have brooded in their minds. His eyes kindled with the knowledge.
+He led them at a good pace forward over hill and dale, through
+rough and briery undergrowth, fording here and there a stream,
+spurring tired horses over spans of dragging sand until darkness
+made further progress impossible. But with the break of day he was
+on again after a scanty meal. Just at sunrise he led his party up
+to a commanding headland where he paused to rest. His winded mount
+and that of Garvez panted side by side upon the crest while his
+troopers, single file, picked their way up the narrow trail. Below
+them was the Bay of San Francisco guarded by the swirling narrows
+of the Golden Gate. And over the brown hilltops of the Contra Costa
+a great golden ball of sunlight battled with the lacy mists of
+dawn.</p>
+<p>It was a picture to impress one with its mystery and
+magnificence. The two men gazed upon it with an oddly blended sense
+of awe and exultation. And as they looked the sunlight triumphed,
+scattering the fog into queer floating shapes, luminous and fraught
+with weird suggestions of castle, dome, of turret, minaret and
+towering spire. One might have thought a splendid city lay before
+them in the barren cove of sand-dunes, a city impalpable, yet
+triumphant, with its hint of destiny; translucent silver and gold,
+shifting and amazing--gone in a flash as the sun's full radiance
+burst forth through the vapor-screen.</p>
+<p>"It was like a sign from Heaven!" Garvez breathed.</p>
+<p>Ortega crossed himself. The younger man went on, "Something like
+a voice within me seemed to say 'Here shall you find your home--you
+and your children and their children's children.'"</p>
+<p>Ortega looked down at the dawn-gold on the waters and the
+tree-ringed cove. Here and there small herds of deer drank from a
+stream or browsed upon the scant verdure of sandy meadows. In a
+distant grove a score of Indian tepees raised their cone shapes to
+the sky; lazy plumes of blue-white smoke curled upward. Canoes,
+rafts of tules, skillfully bound together, carried dark-skinned
+natives over wind-tossed waters, the ends of their double paddles
+flashing in the sun.</p>
+<p>"One may not know the ways of God." Ortega spoke a trifle
+bruskly. "What is plain to me is that we cannot journey farther.
+This estero cuts our path in two. And in three days we cannot
+circle it to reach the Contra Costa. We must return and make report
+to the commander."</p>
+<p>He wheeled and shouted a command to his troopers. The cavalcade
+rode south but young Francisco turning in the saddle cast a
+farewell glance toward the shining bay. "Port O' Gold!" he
+whispered raptly, "some day men shall know your fame around the
+world!"</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h1>PORT O' GOLD</h1>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2>
+<h3>YERBA BUENA</h3>
+<br>
+<p>It was 1845. Three quarters of a century had passed since young
+Francisco Garvez, as he rode beside Portola's chief of Scouts,
+glimpsed the mystic vision of a city rising from the sandy shores
+of San Francisco Bay.</p>
+<p>Garvez, so tradition held, had taken for his spouse an Indian
+maiden educated by the mission padres of far San Diego. For his
+service as soldado of old Spain he had been granted many acres near
+the Mission of Dolores and his son, through marriage, had combined
+this with another large estate. There a second generation of the
+Garvez family had looked down from a palatial hacienda upon
+spreading grain-fields, wide-reaching pastures and corrals of
+blooded stock. They had seen the Mission era wax and wane and
+Mexico cast off the governmental shackles of Madrid. They had
+looked askance upon the coming of the "Gringo" and Francisco Garvez
+II, in the feebleness of age, had railed against the destiny that
+gave his youngest daughter to a Yankee engineer. He had bade her
+choose between allegiance to an honored race and exile with one
+whom he termed an unknown, alien interloper. But in the end he had
+forgiven, when she chose, as is the wont of women, Love's eternal
+path. Thus the Garvez rancho, at his death became the Windham ranch
+and there dwelt Dona Anita with her children Inez and Benito, for
+her husband, "Don Roberto" Windham lingered with an engineering
+expedition in the wilds of Oregon.</p>
+<p>Just nineteen was young Benito, straight and slim, combining in
+his fledgling soul the austere heritage of Anglo-Saxons with the
+leaping fires of Castile. Fondly, yet with something anxious in her
+glance, his mother watched the boy as he sprang nimbly to the
+saddle of his favorite horse. He was like her husband, strong and
+self-reliant. Yet,--she sighed involuntarily with the thought,--he
+had much of the manner of her handsome and ill-fated brother, Don
+Diego, victim of a duel that had followed cards and wine.</p>
+<p>"Why so troubled, madre mia?" The little hand of Inez stole into
+her mother's reassuringly. "Is it that you fear for our Benito when
+he rides among the Gringos of the puebla?"</p>
+<p>Her dark crowned and exquisite head rose proudly and her eyes
+flashed as she watched her brother riding with the grace of
+splendid horsemanship toward the distant town of Yerba Buena. "He
+can take care of himself," she ended with, a toss of her head.</p>
+<p>"To be sure, my little one," the Dona Windham answered smiling.
+No doubt it was a foolish apprehension she decided. If only the
+Dona Briones who lived on a ranchita near the bay-shore did not
+gossip so of the Americano games of chance. And if only she might
+know what took Benito there so frequently.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Benito spurred his horse toward the puebla. A well-filled purse
+jingled in his pocket and now and then he tossed a silver coin to
+some importuning Indian along the road. As he passed the little
+ranch-house of Dona Briones he waved his hat gaily in answer to her
+invitation to stop. Benito called her Tia Juana. Large and motherly
+she was, a woman of untiring energy who, all alone cultivated the
+ranchito which supplied milk, butter, eggs and vegetables to ships
+which anchored in the cove of Yerba Buena. She was the friend of
+all sick and unfortunate beings, the secret ally of deserting
+sailors whom she often hid from searching parties. Benito was her
+special favorite and now she sighed and shook her head as he rode
+on. She had heard of his losses at the gringo game called
+"pokkere." She mistrusted it together with all other alien
+machinations.</p>
+<p>Benito reached the little hamlet dreaming in the sun, a welter
+of scrambled habitations. There was the little ship's cabin, called
+Kent Hall, where dwelt that genial spirit, Nathan Spear, his
+father's friend. Nearby was the dwelling, carpenter and blacksmith
+shop of Calvert Davis; the homes of Victor Pruden, French savant
+and secretary to Governor Alvarado; Thompson the hide trader who
+married Concepcion Avila, reigning beauty of her day; Stephen
+Smith, pioneer saw-miller, who brought the first pianos to
+California.</p>
+<p>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.</p>
+<p>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.</p>
+<p>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:</p>
+<p>"How fares it at the ranch, Camerado?"</p>
+<p>"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."</p>
+<p>"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."</p>
+<p>Benito turned an almost furtive glance on his companion. "Not
+yet," ... he answered hastily, "a thousand pardons, senor. I have
+other errands here."</p>
+<p>He nodded half impatiently and made his way along the
+embarcadero. Spear saw him turn into the drinking place of
+Cooper.</p>
+<p>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.</p>
+<p>"I've no authority," Spear answered shortly. He turned his back
+upon the other and strode toward the plaza.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2>
+<h3>THE GAMBLED PATRIMONY</h3>
+<br>
+<p>The stranger took his way toward the waterfront and into "Jack
+the Sailor's." Cooper, who had earned this nickname, stood behind a
+counter of rough boards polishing its top with a much soiled towel.
+He hailed the newcomer eagerly. "Hello, Alvin Potts! What brought
+you here? And how is all at Monterey?"</p>
+<p>"All's well enough," said Potts, concisely. He glanced about.
+Several crude structures, scarcely deserving the name of tables,
+were centers of interest for rings of rough and ill-assorted men.
+There were loud-voiced, bearded fellows from the whaler's crew. In
+tarpaulins and caps pulled low upon their brows; swarthy Russians
+with oily, brutish faces and slow movements--relics of the
+abandoned colony at Fort Ross; suave, soft-spoken Spaniards in
+broad-brimmed hats, braided short coats and laced trousers tucked
+into shining boots; vaqueros with colored handkerchiefs about their
+heads and sashes around their middles. A few Americans were
+sprinkled here and there. Usually one player at each table was of
+the sleek and graceful type, which marks the gambler. And usually
+he was the winner. Now and then a man threw down his cards, pushed
+a little pile of money to the center of the table and shuffled out.
+Cooper passed between them, serving tall, black bottles from which
+men poured their potions according to impulse; they did not drink
+in unison. Each player snatched a liquid stimulus when the need
+arose. And one whose shaky nerves required many of these spurs was
+young Benito.</p>
+<p>Potts observed the pale face and the hectic, burning eyes with a
+frowning disapproval. Presently he drew John Cooper to one
+side.</p>
+<p>"He's no business here, that lad ... you know it, Jack," Potts
+said, accusingly. The saloon keeper threw wide his arms in a
+significant gesture.</p>
+<p>"He won't stay away ... I've told him half a dozen times. No one
+can reason with that headstrong fool."</p>
+<p>"Who's that he's playing with?" asked Potts. "I mean the dark
+one with a scar."</p>
+<p>An impressive and outstanding figure was the man Potts
+designated. Stocky, sinister of eye and with a mouth whose
+half-sardonic smile drew the lips a little out of line, he combed
+his thick black hair now and then with delicate, long-fingered
+hands. They had a deftness and a lightning energy, those fingers
+with their perfectly groomed nails, which boded little good to his
+opponents. He sat back calmly in strange contrast to the feverish
+uncontrol of other players. Now and then he flashed a swift glance
+round the circle of his fellow players. Before him was a heap of
+gold and silver. They watched him deal with the uncanny skill of a
+conjurer before Jack Cooper answered.</p>
+<p>"That's Aleck McTurpin from Australia. Thought you knew
+him."</p>
+<p>"One of the Sydney coves?"</p>
+<p>"Not quite so loud," the other cautioned hastily. "They call him
+that--behind his back. But who's to tell? I'd like to get the lad
+out of his clutches well enough."</p>
+<p>"Think I'll watch the game," Potts said, and sauntered to the
+table. He laid a friendly hand on Windham's shoulder. Benito's pile
+of coin was nearly gone. McTurpin dealt. It was a jack-pot,
+evidently, for a heavy stake of gold and silver was upon the center
+of the board. Benito's hand shook as he raised his cards. He
+reached forth and refilled his glass, gulping the contents
+avidly.</p>
+<p>"Dos cartos," he replied in Spanish to the dealer's inquiry.
+Potts glanced at the three cards which Benito had retained. Each
+was a king.</p>
+<p>The young man eyed his first draw with a slight frown and seemed
+to hesitate before he lifted up the second. Then a little sucking
+gasp came from his throat.</p>
+<p>"Senor," he began as McTurpin eyed him curiously, "I have little
+left to wager. Luck has been my enemy of late. Yet," he smiled a
+trembling little smile, "I hold certain cards which give me
+confidence. I should like to play a big stake--once, before I
+leave--"</p>
+<p>"How big?" asked McTurpin, coldly, but his eye was eager.</p>
+<p>The Spanish-American faced him straightly. "As big as you like,
+amigo ... if you will accept my note."</p>
+<p>McTurpin's teeth shut with a click. "What security, young
+fellow?" he demanded.</p>
+<p>"My ranch," replied Benito. "It is worth, they say, ten thousand
+of your dollars."</p>
+<p>McTurpin covered his cards with his hands. "You want to lay me
+this ranch against--what?"</p>
+<p>"Five thousand dollars--that is fair enough," Benito answered.
+He was trembling with excitement. McTurpin watched him hawk-like,
+seeming to consider. "Bring us ink and paper, Jack," he called to
+Cooper, and when the latter had complied, he wrote some half a
+dozen lines upon a sheet.</p>
+<p>"Sign that. Get two witnesses ... you, Jack, and this fellow
+here," he indicated Potts imperiously. He laid his cards face down
+upon the table and extracted deftly from some inner pocket a thick
+roll of greenbacks. Slowly, almost meticulously, he counted them
+before the gaping tableful of players. Fifty hundred-dollar
+bills.</p>
+<p>"American greenbacks," he spoke crisply. "A side bet with our
+friend, the Senor Windham." He shoved the money toward the center
+of the table, slightly apart from the rest.</p>
+<p>Benito waveringly picked up the pen. It shook in his unsteady
+fingers. "Wait," Potts pleaded. But the young man brooked no
+intervention. With a flourish he affixed his signature. McTurpin
+picked up the pen as Benito dropped it. "Put your name on as a
+witness," he demanded of the host. "Jack the Sailor" shook his
+head. "I've no part in this," he said, and turned his back upon
+them. "Nor I," Potts answered to a similar invitation.</p>
+<p>McTurpin took the paper. "Well, it doesn't matter. You've all
+seen him sign it: You ... and you ... and you." His finger pointed
+to a trio of the nearest players, and their nods sufficed him,
+evidently. He weighted the contract with a gold-piece from his own
+plethoric pile.</p>
+<p>"Show down! Show down!" cried the others. Triumphantly Benito
+laid five cards upon the table. Four of them were kings. A little
+cry of satisfaction arose, for sympathy was with the younger
+player. McTurpin sat unmoved. Then he threw an ace upon the table.
+Followed it with a second. Then a third. And, amid wondering
+murmurs, a fourth.</p>
+<p>He reached out his hand for the stakes. Benito sat quite still.
+The victorious light had gone out of his eyes, but not a muscle
+moved. One might have thought him paralyzed or turned to stone by
+his misfortune. McTurpin's hand closed almost stealthily upon the
+paper. There was a smile of cool and calculating satisfaction on
+his thin lips as he drew the stake toward him.</p>
+<p>Then with an electrifying suddenness, Benito sprang upon him.
+"Cheat!" he screamed. "You fleeced me like a robber. I knew. I
+understood it when you looked at me like that."</p>
+<p>Quick as McTurpin was in parrying attack--for he had frequent
+need of such defense--the onslaught of Benito found him unprepared.
+He went over backward, the young man's fingers on his throat. From
+the overturned table money rattled to the floor and rolled into
+distant corners. Hastily the non-combatants sought a refuge from
+expected bullets. But no pistol barked. McTurpin's strength far
+overmatched that of the other. Instantly he was on his feet.
+Benito's second rush was countered by a blow upon the jaw. The boy
+fell heavily.</p>
+<p>McTurpin smoothed his ruffled plumage and picked up the
+scattered coins. "Take the young idiot home," he said across his
+shoulder, as he strode out. "Pour a little whisky down his throat.
+He isn't hurt."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2>
+<h3>THE GRINGO SHIPS</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Government was but a name in Yerba Buena. A gringo engineer
+named Fremont with a rabble of adventurers had overthrown the
+valiant Vallejo at Sonora and declared a California Republic. He
+had spiked the cannon at the Presidio. And now a gringo
+sloop-of-war was in the bay, some said with orders to reduce the
+port. Almost simultaneously an English frigate came and there were
+rumors of a war between the Anglo-Saxon nations.</p>
+<p>The prefect, Don Rafael Pinto, had already joined the fleeing
+Governor Castro. Commandante Francisco Sanchez, having sent his
+soldiers to augment the Castro forces in the south, was without a
+garrison and had retired to his rancho.</p>
+<p>Nevertheless, had the Senora Windham, with her son and daughter,
+called upon Sub-prefect Guerrero in hope of justice. Her rancho was
+being taken from her. Already McTurpin had pre-empted a portion of
+the grant and only the armed opposition of the Windham vaqueros
+prevented an entire dispossession.</p>
+<p>Though Guerrero listened, courteous and punctilious, he had
+obviously no power to afford relief. He was a curiously nervous man
+of polished manners whose eyelids twitched at intervals with a sort
+of slow St. Vitus' dance.</p>
+<p>"What can I do, Senora?" with a blend of whimsicality and
+desperation. "I am an official without a staff. And Sanchez a
+commander stripped of his soldados." He stepped to the door with
+them and looked down upon the dancing, rippling waters of the bay,
+where two ships rode.</p>
+<p>"Let these gringos fight it out together. This McTurpin is an
+Inglese, I am told, from their far colony across the sea. If the
+Americanos triumph take your claim to them. If not, God save you,
+my senora. I cannot."</p>
+<p>Don Guillermo Richardson, the former harbormaster, came up the
+hill as Dona Anita emerged from the Alcalde's office. He was a
+friend of her husband--a gringo--but trusted by the Spanish
+Californians, many of whom he had befriended. To him Mrs. Windham
+turned half desperately, confessing in a rush of words her family's
+plight. "What is to become of us?" she questioned passionately.
+"Ah, that my Roberto were here! He would know how to deal with
+these desperadoes." She gestured angrily toward the sloop-of-war
+which rode at anchor in the Bay.</p>
+<p>"You have nothing to fear, my friend," returned Richardson with
+a trace of asperity. "Commodore Sloat is a gentleman. He is, I
+understand, to seize Monterey and raise the the American flag there
+tomorrow. Yet his instructions are that Californians are to be
+shown every courtesy."</p>
+<p>"And our rancho?" cried the boy. "Will the Americano Capitan
+restore it to us, think you, Don Guillermo?"</p>
+<p>"I know not," said the other sadly. "You should have thought of
+that before you gambled it away, my son."</p>
+<p>Benito hung his head. Richardson passed on and the trio made
+their way toward the beach. There they found Nathan Spear in
+excited converse with John Cooper and William Leidesdorff.</p>
+<p>They were discussing the probability of an occupation by the
+American marines. "If they come ashore," said Leidesdorff, "I'll
+invite them to my new house. There's plenty of rum for all, and
+we'll drink a toast to Fremont and the California Republic as
+well."</p>
+<p>"Hurrah! Hurrah!" came a cheer from several bystanders.</p>
+<p>"I invite you all," cried Leidesdorff, waving his hands and
+almost dancing in his eagerness. "Every man-jack of you in all
+Yerba Buena."</p>
+<p>"How about the ladies, Leidesdorff?" called out a sailor.</p>
+<p>"Ah, forgive me, Senora, Senorita!" cried the Dane remorsefully.
+He swept off his wide-brimmed hat with an effort, for he had a
+fashion of jamming it very tightly upon his head. He laid a hand
+enthusiastically upon the shoulders of both Spear and Cooper. "It
+grows better and better. Tomorrow, if the Captain is willing," he
+jerked his head toward the Portsmouth, "tomorrow evening we shall
+have a grand ball. It shall celebrate the day of independence."</p>
+<p>"But tomorrow is the eighth of July," said Cooper.</p>
+<p>"What matter?" Leidesdorff exclaimed, now thoroughly
+enthusiastic. "It's the spirit of the thing that counts, my
+friends."</p>
+<p>A crowd was assembling. Mrs. Windham and her daughter drew
+instinctively aside. Benito stood between them and the growing
+throng as if to shield them from a battery of curious glances.</p>
+<p>"Will the ladies accept?" asked Leidesdorff with another
+exaggerated salute.</p>
+<p>Senora Windham, haughty and aloof, had framed a stiff refusal,
+but her daughter caught her hand. "Do not antagonize them, mother,"
+she said in an undertone. "Let us meet this Gringo Commandante of
+the ship. Perhaps," she smiled archly, "it is not beyond the
+possibilities I may persuade him into giving aid."</p>
+<p>The elder woman hesitated, glanced inquiringly at Nathan Spear
+who stood beside them. He nodded. "The ladies will be pleased," he
+answered in their stead. Another cheer met this announcement.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+<h3>AMERICAN OCCUPATION</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Yerba Buena awoke to the sunrise of July 8, 1846, with a spirit
+of festive anticipation and a certain relief.</p>
+<p>Today the American sloop-of-war would land its sailors and
+marines to take possession of the port. Today the last remaining
+vestige of the Latin's dominance would end. A strange flag,
+curiously gay with stripes and stars, would fly above the customs
+house; strange men in uniforms of blue, and golden braid, would
+occupy the seats of power. Even the name of Yerba Buena would be
+altered, it was said. New Boston probably would be its title.</p>
+<p>Early morning brought ox-carts laden with gay, curious Spanish
+ladies from surrounding ranches, piquant eager senoritas with
+vivacious gestures of small hands and fluttering fans; senoras
+plump and placid, slower in their movements and with brooding eyes.
+They wore their laciest mantillas, silkiest gowns and daintiest
+footwear to impress the alien invader. And, beside their equipages,
+like outriders in the cortege of a queen, caballeros and vaqueros
+sat their caracoling steeds.</p>
+<p>Sailors from the trade and whaling ships, trappers, hunters and
+the motley populace of Yerba Buena made a colorful and strangely
+varied picture, as they gathered with the rancheros about the
+Plaza.</p>
+<p>At 8 o'clock four boats descended simultaneously from the
+Portsmouth's sides. They were greeted by loud cheers from the
+Americans on shore and watched with excited interest by the others.
+The boats landed their crews near the spring where a sort of wharf
+had been constructed. They returned for more and finally assembled
+seventy marines, a smaller number of sailors and the ship's band.
+Captain Montgomery, in the full dress uniform of a naval commander,
+reviewed his forces. Beside him stood Lieutenant John S. Misroon,
+large, correct and rather awkward, with long, restless arms; a
+youthful, rosy complexion and serious blue eyes. Further back,
+assembling his marines in marching order, was Lieutenant Henry
+Watson, a smaller man of extraordinary nervous energy. Montgomery
+gave the marching order. Fife and drum struck up a lively air and
+to its strains the feet of Yerba Buena's first invading army kept
+uncertain step as sailors and marines toiled through the sand. Half
+a thousand feet above them stood the quaint adobe customs house,
+its red-tiled roof and drab adobe walls contrasting pleasantly with
+the surrounding greenery of terraced hills. Below it lay the Plaza
+with its flagpole, its hitching racks for horses and oxen.</p>
+<p>Here the commander halted his men. "Lieutenant Watson," he
+addressed the senior subaltern, "be so good as to request
+attendance by the prefect or alcalde.... And for heaven's sake,
+fasten your coat, sir," he added in a whispered aside.</p>
+<p>Saluting with one hand, fumbling at his buttons with the other,
+Watson marched into the customs house, while the populace waited
+agape; but he returned very soon to report that the building was
+untenanted. Captain Montgomery frowned. He had counted on the pomp
+and punctilio of a formal surrender--a spectacular bit of history
+that would fashion gallant words for a report. "Haul down the flag
+of Mexico," he said to Lieutenant Misroon. "Run up the Stars and
+Stripes!"</p>
+<p>Lieutenant Misroon gazed aloft, then down again, embarrassed.
+"There is no flag, sir," he responded, and Montgomery verified his
+statement with a frowning glance. "Where the devil is it, then?" he
+asked explosively.</p>
+<p>A frightened clerk appeared now at the doorway of the custom
+house. He bowed and scraped before the irate commander. "Pardon,
+Senor Commandante," he said, quaveringly, "the flag of Mexico
+reposes in a trunk with the official papers of the port. I, myself,
+have seen the receiver of customs, Don Rafael Pinto, place it
+there."</p>
+<p>"And where is Don Rafael?"</p>
+<p>"Some days ago he joined the Castro forces in the South,
+Senor."</p>
+<p>"Well, well!" Montgomery's tone was sharp; "there must be
+someone in command. Who is he?"</p>
+<p>"The Sub-Prefect has ridden to his rancho, Commandante."</p>
+<p>"That disposes of the civil authorities," Montgomery reflected,
+"since Port-Captain Ridley is in jail with Fremont's captives." He
+turned to the clerk again. "Is there not a garrison at the
+Presidio?"</p>
+<p>"They have joined the noble Castro," sighed the clerk,
+recovering his equanimity. "There is only the commander Sanchez,
+Senor. He is also at his rancho."</p>
+<p>Despite his irritation, Captain Montgomery could not miss the
+humor of the situation. A dry chuckle escaped him. "Run up the
+flag," he said to Lieutenant Misroon, and the latter hastened to
+comply. An instant later the starry banner floated high above their
+heads. A cheer broke out. Hats flew into the air and from the
+ship's band came the stirring strains of America's national air.
+Then, deep and thunderous, a gun spoke on the Portsmouth. Another
+and another.</p>
+<p>Captain Montgomery, stiff and dignified, lifted his hand and
+amid an impressive silence read the proclamation of Commodore
+Sloat, in which all citizens of captured ports were assured of fair
+and friendly treatment and invited to become subjects of the United
+States. He suggested the immediate formation of a town militia.
+Leidesdorff came bustling forward.</p>
+<p>"My house is at your service, gentlemen," he said. "And
+tonight," he removed his hat and bowed toward the ladies, "tonight
+I bid you all to be my guests and give our new friends welcome." He
+saluted Montgomery and his aids, who, somewhat nonplussed, returned
+the greeting.</p>
+<p>Nathan Spear elbowed his way to the commander's side. With him
+came Senora Windham and the smiling Senorita Inez. Benito lingered
+rather diffidently in the background with a group of Spanish
+Californians, but was finally induced to bring them forward. There
+were general handshakings. Many other rancheros, now that the ice
+was broken, brought their wives and daughters for an introduction
+to the gringo commandante, and Montgomery, his good humor restored,
+kissed many a fair hand in response to a languishing smile. It
+seemed a happy and a friendly seizure. Inez said, eyes a-sparkle,
+"We shall see you at the ball this evening, Senor Commandante."</p>
+<p>"I shall claim the first dance, Senorita," said the sailor,
+bowing low. Her heart leaped as they left him, and she squeezed her
+brother's arm. "He is a kindly man, Benito mio. I shall tell him of
+this interloper--this McTurpin. Have no fear."</p>
+<p>Benito smiled a little dubiously. He had less faith than Inez in
+the future government of the Americans.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2>
+<h3>AN OFFER AND A THREAT</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Aleck McTurpin, tired but exhilarated, rode toward the Windham
+rancho on the morning after Leidesdorff's ball. He had made a night
+of it and he was in high fettle. The Senorita Windham had granted
+him a dance despite her brother's scowling disapproval. Out of the
+charm of that brief association there had come into the gambler's
+mind a daring plan. To the Senorita Inez he had spoken of his claim
+upon the Windham rancho through her brother's note won on the
+gambling table. He had touched the matter very gently, for McTurpin
+knew the ways of women and was not without engaging qualities when
+they stood him in good stead.</p>
+<p>Now he rode toward a tryst with Inez Windham and his heart
+leaped at the prospect of another sight of her; within him like a
+heady wine there was the memory of her sparkling eyes, the roguish,
+mischievous, half-pouting mouth. The consciousness of something
+finer than his life had known aroused in him strange devotional
+impulses, unfamiliar yearnings.</p>
+<p>He and the Senorita were to meet and plan a settlement of
+McTurpin's claim against the rancho. He had asked her to come
+alone, and, after a swift look, half fearful, half desperate, she
+consented. It was an unheard-of thing in Spanish etiquette. But he
+believed she would fulfill the bargain. And if she did, he asked
+himself, what should he say--or do? For, perhaps, the first time in
+his life McTurpin was uncertain.</p>
+<p>Suddenly the road turned and he came upon her. She stood beside
+her horse, the morning sunlight in her wondrous dark hair. The ride
+had brought fresh color to her face and sparkle to her eyes.
+McTurpin caught his breath before the wonder and beauty of her.
+Then he sprang from his horse and bowed low. The Senorita Inez
+nodded almost curtly.</p>
+<p>"I have little time, Senor," she said, uneasily. "You are late.
+I may be missed." Her smile was all the more alluring for its hint
+of panic. "Can we not come to the point at once? I have here
+certain jewels which will pay a portion of the debt." She unclasped
+from her throat a necklace of pearls he had noted at the ball. She
+held them out toward him. "And here is a ring. Have you brought the
+paper?"</p>
+<p>McTurpin held up a protesting hand. "You wrong me, Senorita," he
+declared. "I am a gambler. Yes ... I take my chance with men and
+win or lose according to the Fates. But I have yet to rob a woman
+of her trinkets."</p>
+<p>"It is no robbery," she demurred, hastily. "Take them, I beseech
+you, and return the note. If it is not enough, we will pay more ...
+later ... from the proceeds of the ranch."</p>
+<p>"Senorita," said McTurpin eagerly, "let us compromise this
+matter more adroitly. Should I make no further claim upon your
+ranch than that which I possess, why may we not be
+neighbors--friends?"</p>
+<p>She tried to protest, but he rushed on, giving her no
+opportunity. "Senorita, I am not a man devoid of culture. I am not
+a sailor or a trapper like those ruffians below. Nor a keeper of
+shops. Senorita, I will give up gambling and become a ranchero.
+If--" he stammered, "If I--"</p>
+<p>Inez Windham took a backward step. Her breath came sharply. In
+this man's absurd confusion there was written plainer than his
+uncompleted words could phrase it, what he meant.</p>
+<p>"No, no," her little hands went out as if to ward off some
+repulsive thing. "Senor--that is quite impossible."</p>
+<p>McTurpin saw the look of horror, of aversion. He felt as though
+someone had struck him in the face. There was a little silence.
+Then he laughed, shortly.</p>
+<p>"Impossible?" the tone was cutting. "We shall see.... This is
+now a white man's country. I have offered to divide the rancho.
+What if I should take it all? Where would you go? You, the proud
+Senora and the shiftless young Benito?"</p>
+<p>The Senorita Inez' lips curled. "When my father comes he will
+know how to answer you," she told him, hotly.</p>
+<p>"If he were alive he would have come long since," McTurpin
+answered. "Many perish on the northern trails." He took a step
+toward her. "Do you know that this morning 200 more Americans
+arrived on the ship Brooklyn? They are armed and there is talk of
+'running out the greasers.' Do you know what that means? It were
+well to have a friend at court, my little lady."</p>
+<p>"Go!" the girl blazed at him. "Go, and quickly--liar that you
+are. My brother and his vaqueros will know how to protect my mother
+and me." She sprang upon her horse and galloped toward the rancho.
+McTurpin, red and angry, watched her disappearing in a whirl of
+dust.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>"Look, my brother! He has spoken truly." Inez and Benito had
+ridden to the pueblo for a confirmation of McTurpin's words. They
+hitched their horses at the rack in Portsmouth Square and walked
+down toward the landing place. A large ship lay in the offing.
+Between her and the shore many small boats laden with passengers
+and varied cargoes plied to and fro.</p>
+<p>Inez, as they descended, noted many women clad in the
+exaggerated hoopskirts, the curious, short, gathered bodices and
+the low hats of the early forties. She thought this apparel oddly
+ugly, though the faces were not unattractive. They stood in knots,
+these women, some of them gazing rather helplessly about. The
+younger ones were surrounded by groups of admirers with whom they
+were chatting animatedly. There were also many children capering in
+the sand and pointing out to one another the strange sights of this
+new place. The men--hundreds of them it seemed to Inez--were busied
+with constructive tasks. Already there were many temporary
+habitations, mostly tents of varied shapes and sizes. Bonfires
+blazed here and there. Stands of arms in ordered, regular stacks,
+gave the scene a martial air. Piles of bed-clothing, household
+effects, agricultural implements, lay upon the sand. A curious
+instrument having a large wheel on one side caught the girl's
+attention. Near it were square, shallow boxes. A pale,
+broad-shouldered man with handsome regular features and brooding,
+poetic eyes stood beside the machine, turning the wheel now and
+then, and examining the boxes. He seemed to be a leader, for many
+people came to ask him questions which he answered with decision
+and authority.</p>
+<p>"Who is that?" asked Inez of Nathan Spear and Leidesdorff as the
+two approached. "And what is the strange contrivance upon which he
+has his hand?"</p>
+<p>"It is a printing press," Spear answered. "Yerba Buena is soon
+to have a paper for the chronicling of its metropolitan affairs.
+The man? Oh, that's Sam Brannan, the elder of this band of
+Mormons."</p>
+<p>"Is it true that they have come to drive us from our homes?"
+asked Inez fearfully.</p>
+<p>"Who, the Mormons? Lord forbid," retorted Spear. He beckoned to
+the elder, who approached and was presented. Inez, as she looked
+into his kindly eyes, forgot her fears. Brannan eagerly explained
+his printing press. She left him feeling that he was less enemy
+than friend.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+<h3>THE FIRST ELECTION</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Captain John J. Vioget's house was the busiest place in Yerba
+Buena, and John Henry Brown its most important personage. The old
+frame dwelling built by a Swiss sailor in 1840 had become in turn a
+billiard hall and groggery, a sort of sailors' lodging house and a
+hotel. Now it was the scene of Yerba Buena's first election. About
+a large table sat the election inspectors guarding the ballot box,
+fashioned hastily from an empty jar of lemon syrup. Robert Ridley,
+recently released from Sutter's Fort, where he had been imprisoned
+by the Bear Flag party, was a candidate for office as alcalde. He
+opposed Lieutenant Washington Bartlett, appointed to officiate pro
+tem by Captain Montgomery. Brown was busy with his spirituous
+dispensing. It was made a rule, upon Brannan's advice, that none
+should be served until he had voted.</p>
+<p>Brown kept shouting: "Ship-shape, gents, and reg'lar; that's the
+word. Place your vote and then you drinks.... Gord bless yer merry
+hearts."</p>
+<p>Thus he harangued them into order and coaxed many a Russian,
+Spanish, English and American coin across his bar. Suddenly he
+looked into the eyes of Aleck McTurpin.</p>
+<p>"Give me a brandy sling," the gambler ordered. He was in a rough
+mood, which ensues from heavy and continued drinking.</p>
+<p>"Have ye voted, Aleck?" Brown inquired.</p>
+<p>"I vote when I please," McTurpin answered sullenly, "and I drink
+when it suits me." He took from an inner pocket of his coat a
+derringer with silver mountings, laid it meaningly upon the bar. "I
+ordered a brandy sling."</p>
+<p>Brown paled, but his eye did not waver. Almost casually, he
+spoke. "Stop your jokin', Aleck. Rules is rules."</p>
+<p>McTurpin's fingers closed about the pistol. His eyes were
+venomous.</p>
+<p>Then Benito Windham entered. Just inside the door he paused,
+uncertainly. "I have come to vote for Senor Bartlett as Alcalde,"
+he declared.</p>
+<p>A laugh greeted him. "You should not announce your choice," said
+Inspector Ward severely. "The ballot is supposedly secret."</p>
+<p>McTurpin turned, his quarrel with Brown instantly forgotten.
+"Throw the little greaser out," he spoke with slow distinctness.
+"This is a white man's show."</p>
+<p>There was a startled silence. "He's drunk," Brown told them
+soothingly. "Aleck's drunk. Don't listen to him."</p>
+<p>"Drunk or not, I back my words." He waved the weapon
+threateningly. "Sit down there," he ordered Windham. "If you want
+to vote you'll vote for a gentleman. Write Bob Ridley's name on
+your ballot, or, by God! I'll fix you." Benito, as if hypnotized,
+took a seat at the table and dipped his quill in the ink. The
+others stirred uneasily, but made no move. There was a moment of
+foreboding silence. Then a hearty voice said from the door: "What's
+the matter, gentlemen?"</p>
+<p>No one answered. McTurpin, the pistol in his hand, still stood
+above Benito. The latter's fingers held the quill suspended. A drop
+of ink fell on the ballot slip unnoted. Brannan, with a puzzled
+frown, came forward, laid a hand upon the gambler's shoulder.</p>
+<p>"What's the matter here?" he asked more sharply.</p>
+<p>McTurpin turned upon him fiercely. "Go to hell!" he cried. "I'm
+running this."</p>
+<p>Brannan's voice was quiet. "Put the pistol down!" he ordered.
+Deliberately McTurpin raised his weapon. "Damn you--" But he got no
+farther. Brannan's fist struck fairly on the chin. One could hear
+the impact of it like a hammer blow. There was a shot, a bullet
+spent against the rafters overhead. McTurpin sprawling on the
+sawdust-covered floor.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>On Windham rancho the Senora Windham waited with a faith that
+knew no end for the coming of her husband. There had been vague
+reports from vaguer sources that he had been captured by the
+northern savages. Inez and Benito were forever at her side--save
+when the boy rode into town to cull news from arriving sailors. The
+Spanish rancheros had all withdrawn to the seclusion of their
+holdings and were on the verge of war against the new authorities
+of Yerba Buena.</p>
+<p>Washington Bartlett, recently elected Alcalde, had abused his
+office by repeated confiscations of fine horses from the camponeras
+of Spanish-Californians, seizing them by requisition of military
+authority and giving orders on the government in exchange. This the
+Spaniards had borne in silence. But abuses had become so flagrant
+as to pass all bounds.</p>
+<p>"We must arm and drive these robbers from our California," said
+Benito passionately. "Sanchez has, in secret, organized one hundred
+caballeros. Only wait. The day comes when we strike!"</p>
+<p>"Benito," said his mother, sadly, "there has been enough of war.
+We cannot struggle with these Yankees. They are strong and
+numerous. We must keep the peace and suffer until your father
+comes."</p>
+<p>"There is to be a grand ball at the casa of the Senor
+Leidesdorff," said Inez. "El Grande Commandante of the Yankee
+squadron comes amid great ceremony. I will gain his ear. Perchance
+he will undo the wrongs of this Bartlett, the despoiler."</p>
+<p>"Inez mia," said her brother, "do not go. No good will come of
+it. For they are all alike, these foreigners."</p>
+<p>"Ah!" she cried, reproachfully, "you say that of the Senor
+Brannan? Or of Don Nathan?"</p>
+<p>"They are good men," Benito answered, grudgingly. "Have it as
+you will."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Yerba Buena did honor to Commodore Stockton under Leidesdorff's
+ever-hospitable roof. Hundreds of candles burned in sconces and
+chandeliers, festoons of bunting and greenery gave the big room a
+carnival air; Indian servitors flitted silently about with trays of
+refreshments, and the gold lace and braid of America's navy mingled
+picturesquely with the almost spectacular garb of stately Spanish
+caballeros. The commodore, though undersized, was soldierly and
+very brisk of manner. Stockton seemed to Inez a gallant figure.
+While she danced with him, she found his brisk directness not
+unpleasing. He asked her of the rancheros and of reports that came
+to him of their dissatisfaction with American authority.</p>
+<p>"They seem so cordial," he said, "these Spanish gentlemen. I
+cannot believe that they hate us, as it is said."</p>
+<p>"Ah, Senor." Inez' smile had faded and her deep and troubled
+eyes held his. "They have cause for hatred, though they come in all
+good will to welcome you."</p>
+<p>As it chanced, they passed just then close to a little group in
+which Alcalde Bartlett made a central figure. Two of Stockton's
+aids were hanging on his words.</p>
+<p>"Tomorrow, gentlemen, we shall go riding. I will find you each a
+worthy mount. We raise fine horses on the ranches."</p>
+<p>The fiery Sanchez, strolling by, overheard as well. Eyes ablaze,
+he went on swiftly joining Vasquez and De Haro near the door. They
+held low converse for an instant with their smouldering glances on
+the pompous Bartlett. Then they hurried out.</p>
+<br>
+<a name="page044.jpg"></a>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/page044.jpg" width="90%" alt=
+""><br>
+<b>"Ah, Senor," Inez' smile had faded ... "they have cause for
+hatred."</b></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+<h3>THE RANCHEROS REVOLT</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Five horsemen rode into the morning sunshine down El Camino Real
+toward the south. One was Washington Bartlett, alcalde of Yerba
+Buena, whose rather pursy figure sat with an ungainly lack of grace
+the mettled horse which he bestrode. It was none other than Senora
+Windham's favorite and beloved mare "Diablo," filched from the
+Windham stables several days before. In compensation she received a
+bit of paper signifying that the animal was commandeered "for
+military necessity."</p>
+<p>The rancheros were patient fellows, Bartlett reflected. If his
+conscience smote him sometimes, he took refuge in the knowledge
+that America was still at war with Mexico and that these horses
+were the property of alien enemies. Non-combatants, possibly. Yet
+they had failed in declaration of allegiance to the United
+States.</p>
+<p>"I'll show you some excellent horseflesh today," he promised his
+companions. "And, what's better, you shall have your pick."</p>
+<p>"Well, that's extraordinarily good of you, alcalde," said the
+man who rode beside him. "But ... do you mean one gets these
+glorious animals--for love?"</p>
+<p>"Not--er--exactly," Bartlett answered. "You see, my deputies and
+officers, like yourself, must ride about to make their observations
+and reports. Such are the needs of war."</p>
+<p>"Of course," another rider nodded understandingly. "And as
+alcalde you have many deputies."</p>
+<p>"As well as many--er--observation officers like ourselves to
+supply," a third supplemented, slyly dropping one eyelid.</p>
+<p>The fourth man said nothing for a time. Then, rather
+unexpectedly, he asked: "And what do you give them in exchange,
+alcalde?"</p>
+<p>Bartlett turned in some surprise. "I give them notes of hand,"
+he answered half resentfully. "Notes redeemable in American
+gold--when the war is over."</p>
+<p>"And, are these notes negotiable security? Will your
+shop-keepers accept them in lieu of coin?"</p>
+<p>"At proper discounts--yes," said Bartlett, flushing.</p>
+<p>"I have heard," the other remarked almost musingly, "that they
+are redeemable at from fifteen to twenty per cent. And that the
+only man who accepts them at even half of their face value is
+McTurpin the gambler."</p>
+<p>"That is not my business," Bartlett answered brusquely. The
+quintet rode on, absorbed and silent. Below them swept green
+reaches of ranch land, dotted here and there with cattle and horses
+or the picturesque haciendas of old Spanish families. The camino
+stretched white and broad before them, winding through rolling
+hillocks, shaded sometimes by huge overhanging trees.</p>
+<p>"Isn't this Francisco Sanchez, whom we go to visit, a soldier, a
+former commandante of your town, alcalde?" asked a rider.</p>
+<p>"Yes, the same one who ran away when Montgomery came." Bartlett
+laughed. "It was several days before he dared come out of the brush
+to take a look at the 'gringo invader.'"</p>
+<p>"I met him at the reception to Commodore Stockton," said the man
+who rode beside Bartlett. "He didn't impress me as a timid chap,
+exactly. Something of a fire-eater, I'd have said."</p>
+<p>"Oh, they're all fire-eaters--on the surface," Bartlett's tone
+was disdainful. "But you may all judge for yourselves in a moment.
+For, if I'm not mistaken, he's coming up the road to meet us."</p>
+<p>"By jove, he sits his horse like a king," said Bartlett's
+companion, admiringly. "Who are those chaps with him? Looks like a
+sort of--reception committee."</p>
+<p>"They are Guerrero and Vasquez and--oh, yes, young Benito
+Windham," Bartlett answered. He spurred his horse and the others
+followed; there was something about the half careless formation of
+the four riders ahead which vaguely troubled the alcalde.</p>
+<p>"Buenos dias, caballeros," he saluted in his faulty Spanish.</p>
+<p>"Buenos dias, senors," Sanchez spoke with unusual crispness.
+"You have come for horses, doubtless, amigo alcalde?"</p>
+<p>"Ah--er--yes," said Bartlett. "The necessities of war are
+great," he added apologetically.</p>
+<p>"And suppose we refuse?" Benito Windham pressed forward, blazing
+out the words in passionate anger. "Suppose we deny your
+manufactured requisitions? Whence came the horse you sit like a
+very clown? I will tell you, tyrant and despoiler. It was stolen
+from my mother by your thieves."</p>
+<p>"Benito, hold your peace," said Sanchez sternly. "I will deal
+with this good gentleman and his friends. They shall be our guests
+for a time."</p>
+<p>As though the words had been a signal, five lariats descended
+apparently from a clear sky, each falling over the head of a member
+of Bartlett's party. They settled neatly and were tightened,
+pinning the arms of riders helplessly.</p>
+<p>"Well done, amigos," commented Sanchez as a quintet of grinning
+vaqueros rode up from the rear. "As you have so aptly said, the
+necessities of war are paramount, alcalde."</p>
+<p>"What's the meaning of this?" demanded Bartlett. "Release us
+instantly, or you shall suffer. Do you think," he sneered, "that a
+handful of greasers can defy the United States?"</p>
+<p>"Perchance, with so important an official as the great Alcalde
+Bartlett for your hostage, we can reach a compromise on certain
+points," said Sanchez. "Come, you shall suffer no hardship, if you
+accept the situation reasonably."</p>
+<p>"I warn you that this means death or imprisonment to all of
+you," Bartlett shouted.</p>
+<p>"Ah, senor, the risks of war are many." Sanchez' teeth flashed.
+He clucked to his horse and the little cavalcade wound,
+single-file, up a narrow horse-trail toward the hills.</p>
+<p>They passed many bands of horsemen, all armed, saluting Sanchez
+as their chief. Among them were owners and vaqueros from a score of
+ranches. There was something grim, determined in their manner which
+foreboded serious trouble.</p>
+<p>One of Bartlett's fellow-captives leaned toward him, whispering:
+"Those fellows mean business. They're like hornets if you stir 'em
+up too far, these greasers."</p>
+<p>"Yes, by Jove! And they mean to sting!" said another.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+<h3>McTURPIN'S COUP</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Yerba Buena was in an uproar. Sanchez' capture of Alcalde
+Bartlett and his party had brought home with a vengeance the war
+which hitherto was but an echo from far Mexico. Now the peaceful
+pueblo was an armed camp. Volunteers rode in from San Jose, San
+Juan and other nearby pueblos, asking for a chance to "fight the
+greasers." All the ranches of the countryside buzzed with a martial
+ardor. Vaqueros, spurred with jangling silver-mounted harness,
+toward Francisco Sanchez' stronghold in the Santa Clara hills to
+battle with the "gringo tyrants."</p>
+<p>Commander Hull of the "Warren" had sent a hundred sailors and
+marines from his sloop, post haste, to quell the rebellion.
+Couriers rode to and fro between his headquarters in the custom
+house and the punitive expedition under Captain Ward Marston which
+was scouting the Santa Clara plains in search of the enemy.</p>
+<p>Even now the battle waged, no doubt, for Marston that morning
+reported a brush with the enemy, had asked for reinforcements. Hull
+had sent post haste a pack of ill assorted and undrilled
+adventurers from among the new arrivals. That was 9 o'clock and now
+the sun had passed its noon meridian--with no courier.</p>
+<p>William Leidesdorff came strolling up, his expression placid,
+smiling as always. He was warm from toiling up the hill and paused,
+panting, hat in hand, to mop his brow with a large red
+'kerchief.</p>
+<p>"Ha! Commander!" he saluted. "And how goes it this morning?"</p>
+<p>Hull glanced at him half irritated, half amused. One could never
+quite be angry at this fellow nor in tune with him. Leidesdorff,
+with his cherubic grin, his plump, comfortable body, the
+close-cropped hair, side whiskers and moustache, framing and
+embellishing his round face with an ornate symmetry, was like a
+bearded cupid. Hull handed him the latest dispatch. "Nothing since
+then, confound it!" he said gloomily.</p>
+<p>"Ah, well," spoke Leidesdorff, with unction, "one should not be
+alarmed. What is that cloud of dust on the horizon? A courier
+perhaps."</p>
+<p>It proved to be Samuel Brannan, dusty and weary, with dispatches
+from Captain Ward which Hull almost snatched from his hand. A group
+of men and women who had watched his arrival, gathered about asking
+questions. Nathan Spear spoke first. He had been too ill to join
+the Americans, but had furnished them horses and arms. "How goes it
+with our 'army,' Sam?" he asked.</p>
+<p>"None too well," said Brannan. "Those greasers can fight and
+they've a good leader. Everyone of them would die for Sanchez. And
+everyone's a sharpshooter. For a time they amused themselves this
+morning knocking off our hats--it rather demoralized the
+recruits."</p>
+<p>Hull, with an imprecation, crushed the dispatch and turned to
+Brannan. "We must have more men and quickly," he announced. "Ward
+asks for instant reinforcements.... Can you recruit--say
+fifty--from your colony?"</p>
+<p>"Impossible," said Brannan, shortly. "I have sent all who can
+ride or manage a rifle." He came a little closer and regarded the
+commander steadily. "Did Ward write anything about a parley?" he
+inquired.</p>
+<p>"Yes," said Hull. "He indicates that peace might be arranged if
+I will give a guarantee against further horse or cattle
+commandeering."</p>
+<p>"May I suggest that such a course is wise--and just?"</p>
+<p>"Damn it, sir! You'd have me treat with these--these brigands!"
+the other shouted. "Never. They've defied the United States by
+laying violent hands on an official. They've wounded two of my
+marines."</p>
+<p>He turned to the crowd which had assembled. "Do you hear that?
+Two Americans wounded. Five held in captivity--including your
+alcalde. Shall we stand that passively? Shall we let the enemy
+dictate terms?"</p>
+<p>"No, no!" a voice shouted. "Fight to the last ditch. Kill the
+greasers. Hang them to a tree. I'm with you, horse and gun. Who
+else?"</p>
+<p>"I, I, I," a score made answer. They pressed forward. "Who's to
+lead us?" asked the first speaker.</p>
+<p>Brannan stepped forward but Commander Hull raised a protesting
+hand. "I shall send a corporal of marines from the Warren. You will
+rest your horse, since I cannot spare you a fresh mount, and hold
+yourself in readiness to act as a courier, Mr. Brannan." He
+summoned an orderly and sent him to the Warren with an order to
+Corporal Smith. Meanwhile the volunteers assembled in the square,
+thirty-four in all; men of half a dozen nationalities. One giant
+Russian loomed above them, a Goliath on a great roan horse. And
+near him, to accentuate the contrast, an elderly moustached,
+imperialed Frenchman on a mare as under-sized and spirited as
+himself.</p>
+<p>Brannan and Leidesdorff watched them galloping down the camino
+ten minutes later under the guidance of a smart young corporal.</p>
+<p>"I trust it will soon be over," said the former. "I saw Benito
+Windham riding beside Sanchez in the battle today."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>The Senorita Inez' head was high that afternoon when McTurpin
+came upon her suddenly in the patio of the Windham hacienda. She
+rose haughtily. "Senor, this intrusion is unpardonable. If my
+brother was within call--" McTurpin bowed low. There was a touch of
+mockery in his eye. "It is about your brother that I've come to
+talk with you, Miss Inez."</p>
+<p>The girl's hand sought her breast. "Benito! He is not--" Words
+failed her.</p>
+<p>"No, not dead--yet," McTurpin answered.</p>
+<p>"God in Heaven! Tell me," said the girl, imploringly! "He is
+wounded? Dying?" McTurpin took a seat beside her on the rustic
+bench. "Benito isn't dead--nor wounded so far as I know. But," his
+tone held an ominous meaning, "it might be better if he were."</p>
+<p>"I--I do not understand," said Inez, staring.</p>
+<p>"Then let me make it clear." McTurpin struck a fist against his
+palm. "Your brother is American. Very well. And what is an American
+who takes up arms against his country?"</p>
+<p>The girl sprang up. "It is a lie. Benito fights for freedom,
+justice only--"</p>
+<p>"That is not the view of our American Commander," McTurpin rose
+and faced her. "The law of war is that a man who fights against his
+country is a traitor." His eyes held hers hypnotically. "When this
+revolt is over there will be imprisonment or pardon for the
+Spanish-Californians. <i>But Benito will be hanged</i>."</p>
+<p>Inez Windham swayed. One hand grasped at the bench-back for
+support; the other clutched her bodice near the throat. "Benito,"
+she said almost in a whisper. Then she turned upon McTurpin
+furiously. "Go," she cried. "I do not believe you. Go!"</p>
+<p>But McTurpin did not stir. "It is the law of nations," he
+declared, "no use denying it, Miss Windham."</p>
+<p>"Why did you come to tell me this? To torture me?"</p>
+<p>"To save you--and your brother?"</p>
+<p>"How?" she asked fiercely.</p>
+<p>"I have influence with Alcalde Bartlett." The gambler smiled.
+"He owes me--more than he can pay. But if that fails ..." he turned
+toward her eagerly, "I have means to accomplish his escape."</p>
+<p>"And the price," she stammered. "There is a price, isn't
+there?"</p>
+<p>His gaze met hers directly, "You, little Inez."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+<h3>THE ELOPEMENT</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Two riders, a man and a veiled woman evidently young, halted
+their horses in Portsmouth Square, where the former alighted and
+offered an arm to his companion. She, however, disdaining his
+assistance, sprang lightly from the saddle and, turning her back on
+him, gazed, motionless, toward the bay. There was something
+arresting and curiously dramatic about the whole performance,
+something that hinted of impending tragedy. The slight figure with
+its listless droop and stony immobility caught and clutched the
+sympathies of Nathan Spear as he was passing by. The man was Alec
+McTurpin; the girl, no doubt, some light o' love from a neighboring
+pueblo. Yet there was a disturbing familiarity about her.</p>
+<p>Spear watched them go across the square toward the City Hotel, a
+long, one-story adobe structure built by Leidesdorff as a store and
+home. On the veranda stood the stocky figure of Proprietor Brown,
+smoking a long pipe and conversing with half a dozen roughly
+dressed men who lounged about the entrance. He looked up
+wonderingly as McTurpin approached. The latter drew him to one side
+and appeared to make certain demands to which Brown acquiesced by a
+curt nod, as if reluctant. Then the man and woman passed around a
+corner of the building, the loungers peering curiously after
+them.</p>
+<p>A little later Spear observed the gambler issue forth alone and
+journey rapidly toward the landing dock. He noted that a strange
+ship rode at anchor. It must have come within the hour, he decided.
+Impelled by curiosity, he descended in McTurpin's wake.</p>
+<p>"What ship is that?" he asked of Leidesdorff.</p>
+<p>"I haven't learned her name. She's from the north coast with a
+lot of sick men. They've the scurvy and flux, I'm told. Dr. Jones
+has gone aboard."</p>
+<p>"I wonder what McTurpin's doing at the ship?" said Spear. "He'll
+get no gambling victims out of ailing seamen."</p>
+<p>"It's something else he wants, I fancy," said Bob Ridley, coming
+from the dock toward them. "He's looking for a preacher--"</p>
+<p>"Preacher?" cried the other men in unison.</p>
+<p>"Yes," responded Ridley. "Aleck's going to be married, the sly
+dog. And since the padres will have nothing to do with him, he's
+hard pressed. Perhaps the wench is a stickler for proprieties," he
+laughed. "Someone told him there was a sky pilot aboard the
+ship!"</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Inez Windham removed her veil. She was in a small room, almost
+dark, where McTurpin had left her after locking the door on the
+outside. It was like a cell, with one small window high and narrow
+which let in a straggling transmitted light, dimming mercifully the
+crude outlines of a wooden stool, a bedstead of rough lumber,
+covered by soiled blankets, a box-like commode upon which stood a
+pitcher and basin of heavy crockery.</p>
+<p>The walls were very thin. From beyond them, in what was
+evidently a public chamber, came snatches of talk interspersed with
+oaths, a click of poker chips and coin, now and then a song. An
+odor of rank tobacco seeped through the muslin-covered walls. With
+a sudden feeling of nausea, of complete despair, the girl threw
+herself face down upon the bed.</p>
+<p>For a time Inez lay there, oblivious to all save the misery of
+her fate. If only her father had not gone with those northern
+engineers! If only Benito were here to advise her! Benito, her
+beloved brother, in whose path the gallows loomed. It was that
+picture which had caused her to yield to McTurpin. Even darker,
+now, was the picture of her own future. A gambler's wife! Her hand
+sought a jewelled dagger which she always carried in her coiffure.
+Her fingers closed about the hilt with a certain solace. After
+Benito was safe--</p>
+<p>Voices in the next room caught her interest by a mention of the
+Santa Clara battle.</p>
+<p>"Hull is fighting mad," she heard. "He promises to bring the
+greasers to their knees. It's unconditional surrender or no
+quarter, Brannan says."</p>
+<p>"First catch your pig--then butcher it," said another,
+meaningly. "The Spaniards have the best of it thus far. Hull's
+shouting frantically for reinforcements. Well, he won't get me. I
+think the rancheros have their side as well as we. If this
+stiff-necked commander would listen to reason."</p>
+<p>"He hasn't heard the other side," the first speaker resumed. "If
+he knew what Alcalde Bartlett had done to these poor devils through
+his horse and cattle raids--"</p>
+<p>A third man laughed. "He'll never learn that, partner, have no
+fear; who'll tell him?"</p>
+<p>"Well, here's to Uncle Sam," said a fourth voice. Followed a
+clink of glasses. Inez Windham sat up swiftly and dried her eyes. A
+daring thought had come to her.</p>
+<p>Why should not she tell Commander Hull the truth!</p>
+<p>She rose and smoothed her ruffled gown. A swift look from the
+window revealed that the road was clear. Inez began tugging at the
+door. It resisted her efforts, but she renewed the battle with all
+the fury of her youthful strength. Finally the flimsy lock gave a
+bit beneath her efforts; a narrow slit appeared between the door
+and jamb in which she forced her hands and thus secured a great
+purchase. Then, one foot against the wall, she tugged and pried and
+pulled until, with a sudden crack, the bar to liberty sprang
+open.</p>
+<p>She was free.</p>
+<p>Just across the Plaza the custom house looked down at her, the
+late sun glinting redly on its tiles. There, no doubt, she would
+find Commander Hull. She hastened forward.</p>
+<p>"Not so fast, my dear!"</p>
+<p>A hand fell on her shoulder rudely. With, a gasp she looked up
+at McTurpin.</p>
+<p>Beside the gambler, whose eyes burned angrily, Inez perceived a
+tall, lean, bearded stranger.</p>
+<p>"Let me go!" she demanded.</p>
+<p>"I have brought the parson," said McTurpin. "We can be married
+at once."</p>
+<p>"I--I--let us wait a little," stammered Inez.</p>
+<p>"Why?" the gambler asked suspiciously. "Where were you
+going?"</p>
+<p>"Nowhere," she evaded, "for a walk--"</p>
+<p>"Well, you can walk back to the hotel, my lady," said McTurpin.
+"I have little time to waste. And there's Benito to consider," he
+concluded. Suddenly he put an arm about her waist and kissed her.
+Inez thought of her brother and tried to submit. But she could not
+repress a little cry of aversion, of fear. The bearded man stepped
+forward. "Hold up a bit, partner," he drawled. "This doesn't look
+quite regular. Don't you wish to marry him, young lady?"</p>
+<p>"Of course she does," McTurpin blustered. "She rode all the way
+in from her mother's ranch to be my wife." He glared at Inez.
+"Isn't it true?" he flung at her. "Tell him."</p>
+<p>She nodded her head miserably. But the stranger was not
+satisfied. "Let go of her," he said, and when McTurpin tailed to
+heed the order, sinewy fingers on the gambler's wrist enforced
+it.</p>
+<p>"Now, tell me, Miss, what's wrong?" the bearded one invited.
+"Has this fellow some hold on you? Is he forcing you into this
+marriage?"</p>
+<p>Again the girl nodded dumbly.</p>
+<p>"She lies," said McTurpin, venomously, but the words were
+scarcely out of his mouth before the stranger's fist drove them
+back. McTurpin staggered. "Damn you!" he shouted, "I teach you to
+meddle between a man and his woman."</p>
+<p>Inez saw something gleam in his hand as the two men sprang upon
+each other. She heard another blow, a groan. Screaming, she fled
+uphill toward the custom house.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2>
+<h3>HULL "CAPITULATES"</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Like a startled deer, Inez Windham fled from McTurpin and the
+stranger, her little, high-heeled slippers sinking unheeded into
+the horse-trodden mire of Portsmouth Square, her silk skirt
+spattered and soiled; her hair, freed from the protecting mantilla,
+blowing in the searching trade wind. Thus, as Commander Hull sat
+upon the custom house veranda, reading the latest dispatch from
+Captain Ward, she burst upon him--a flushed, disheveled, lovely
+vision with fear-stricken eyes.</p>
+<p>"Senor," she panted, "Senor Commandante ... I must speak with
+you at once!"</p>
+<p>Hull rose. "My dear young lady"--he regarded her with patent
+consternation--"my dear young lady ... w-what is wrong?"</p>
+<p>She was painfully aware of her bedraggled state, the whirlwind
+lack of ceremony with which she had propelled herself into his
+presence. Suddenly words failed her, she was conscious that an arm
+stretched toward her as she swayed. Next she lay upon a couch in an
+inner chamber, the commander, in his blue-and-gold-braid stiffness
+bending over her, gravely anxious.</p>
+<p>She rose at once, ignoring his protesting gesture.</p>
+<p>"I--I fainted?" she asked perplexedly. Hull nodded. "Something
+excited you. A fight in the street below. A man was stabbed--"</p>
+<p>"Oh!" The white face of the bearded stranger sprang into her
+memory, "Is he dead?"</p>
+<p>"No, but badly hurt, I fancy," said the Commander. "They have
+taken him to the City Hotel."</p>
+<p>Desperately, she forced herself to speak. "I have come, senor,
+to ask a pardon for my brother. He is very dear to me--and to my
+mother"--she clasped her hands and held them toward him
+supplicatingly. "Senor, if Benito should be captured--you will have
+mercy?"</p>
+<p>The commander regarded her with puzzled interest. "Who is
+Benito, little one?"</p>
+<p>"His name is Windham. My father was a gring--Americano,
+Commandante."</p>
+<p>Hull frowned. "An American ... fighting against his country?" he
+said sharply.</p>
+<p>"Ah, sir"--the girl came closer in her earnestness--"he does not
+fight against the United States ... only against robbers who would
+hide behind its flag." In her tone there was the outraged
+indignation of a suffering people. "Horse thieves, cattle
+robbers."</p>
+<p>"Hush," said Hull, "you must not speak thus of American
+officials. Their seizures, I am told, were unavoidable--for
+military needs alone."</p>
+<p>"You have never heard our side," the girl spoke bitterly. "Was
+it military need that filched two hundred of our blooded horses
+from the ranches? Was it military need that robbed my ailing mother
+of her pet, the mare Diablo? Was it military need that gave our
+finest steeds to your Alcalde for his pleasure, that enabled half a
+dozen false officials to recruit their stables from our caponeras
+and sell horses in the open market?" Her eyes blazed. "Senor, it
+was tyranny and theft, no less. Had I been a man, like Benito, I,
+too, should have ridden with Sanchez."</p>
+<p>"Can you prove these things?" asked the Commander, sternly.</p>
+<p>"Si, senor," said Inez quickly. "It is well known hereabouts. Do
+not take my word," she smiled, "I am a woman--a Spaniard, on my
+mother's side. Ask your own countrymen--Samuel Brannan, Nathan
+Spear, William Leidesdorff."</p>
+<p>Hull pulled at his chin reflectively. "Something of this sort I
+have already heard," he said, "but I believed it idle gossip.... If
+your brother had come to me, instead of riding with the
+enemy--"</p>
+<p>"He is a youth, hot-blooded and impulsive, Senor Commandante."
+Swiftly, and to Hull's intense embarrassment, she knelt before him.
+"We love him so: my mother, who is ill, and I," she pleaded. "He is
+all we have.... Ah, senor, you will spare him--our Benito!"</p>
+<p>"Get up," said Hull a trifle brusquely. His tone, too, shook a
+little. "Confound it, girl, I'm not a murderer." He forced a smile.
+"If my men haven't shot the young scoundrel you may have him
+back."</p>
+<p>"And that," he added, as the girl rose with a shining rapture in
+her eyes, "may be tomorrow." He picked up a paper from the desk and
+regarded it thoughtfully. "There is truce at present. Sanchez will
+surrender if I give my word that there shall be no further
+raids."</p>
+<p>"And--you will do this, Commandante?" the girl asked,
+breathlessly.</p>
+<p>"I--will consult with Brannan, Leidesdorff and Spear, as you
+suggested," Hull replied. But his eyes were kind. The Senorita Inez
+had her answer. Impetuously, her arms went around his neck. An
+instant later, dazed, a little red, a moist spot on his cheek and a
+lingering fragrance clinging subtly like the touch of vanished
+arms, Hull watched her flying heels upon the muddy square.</p>
+<p>"Well, I'll be damned!" he said, explosively.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>In the room which had been Inez' whilom prison--and which proved
+to be the only one available in the City Hotel, Adrian Stanley lay
+tossing and muttering. The woman who sat at his bedside watched
+anxiously each movement of his lips, listening eagerly to catch the
+incoherent, whispered words. For a time she could make of them no
+intelligent meaning. But now, after a long and quiet interval, he
+began to ask questions, though his eyes were still closed. "Am I
+going to die?"</p>
+<p>"No," said Inez, for it was she, "you've lost a lot of blood,
+but the doctor says there's small danger."</p>
+<p>The bearded face looked up half quizzically. "Are you glad?"</p>
+<p>"Oh ... yes," said Inez, with a quick-taken respiration.</p>
+<p>"Then it's all right," the patient murmured sleepily. His eyes
+closed.</p>
+<p>Inez' color heightened as she watched him. What had he meant,
+she wondered, and decided that his brain was not quite clear. But,
+somehow, this was not the explanation she desired.</p>
+<p>Presently Dr. Elbert Jones came in, cheering her with his
+breezy, jovial drawl.</p>
+<p>"Getting tired of your task?" he questioned. But Inez shook her
+head. "He protected me," she said. "It was while defending me that
+he was wounded." Her eyes searched the physician's face. "Where,"
+she questioned fearfully, "is--"</p>
+<p>"McTurpin?" returned the doctor. "Lord knows. He vamoosed,
+absquatulated. You'll hear no more of him, I think, Miss
+Windham."</p>
+<p>For a moment the dark lashes of the patient rose as if something
+in the doctor's words had caught his attention; then they fell
+again over weary eyes and he appeared to sleep. But when Doctor
+Jones was gone, Inez found him regarding her with unusual
+interest.</p>
+<p>"Did I hear him call you Windham?" he inquired, "Inez
+Windham?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, that is my name," she answered.</p>
+<p>"And your father's?"</p>
+<p>"He is Don Roberto Windham of the Engineers," Inez leaned
+forward. "Oh!" her eyes shone with a hope she dared not trust.
+"Tell me, quickly, have you news of him?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," said Stanley. "He is ill, but will recover. He will soon
+return." His eyes dwelt on the girl in silence, musingly.</p>
+<p>"Tell me more!" she pleaded. "We believed him lost. Ah, how my
+mother's health will mend when she hears this. We have waited so
+long...."</p>
+<p>"I was with him in the North," said Stanley. "Often, sitting at
+the camp-fire, while the others slept, he told me of his wife, his
+daughter, and his son, Benito. In my coat," he pointed to a garment
+hanging near the door, "you will find a letter--" He followed her
+swift, searching fingers, saw her press the envelope impulsively
+against her heart. While she read his eyes were on her dreamily,
+until at last he closed them with a little sigh.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2>
+<h3>SAN FRANCISCO IS NAMED</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Evening on the Windham rancho. Far below, across a vast green
+stretch of meadow sloping toward the sea, the sun sank into crimson
+canopies of cloud. It was one of those perfect days which come
+after the first rains, mellow and exhilarating. The Trio in the
+rose arbor of the patio were silent under the spell of its beauty.
+Don Roberto Windham, home again, after long months of wandering and
+hardship, stood beside the chair in which Senora Windham rested
+against a pillow. She had mended much since his return, and her
+eyes as she looked up at him held the same flashing, fiery
+tenderness which in the long ago had caused her to renounce
+Castilian traditions and become the bride of an Americano. At her
+feet upon a low stool sat her daughter, Inez, and Windham, as he
+looked down, was a little startled at her likeness to the Spanish
+beauty he had met and married a generation before.</p>
+<p>Conscious of his glance, her eyes turned upward and she held out
+her hand to him. "Father, mine," she said in English, "you have
+made the roses bloom again in mother's cheeks. And in my heart,"
+she added with a quick, impulsive tenderness.</p>
+<p>Robert Windham bent and kissed her wind-tossed hair. "I think
+another has usurped me in the latter task." He smiled, although not
+without a touch of sadness. "Ah, well, Adrian is a fine young
+fellow. You need not blush so furiously."</p>
+<p>"I think he comes," said the Senora Anita, and, unconsciously,
+her arm went around the girl. "Is not that his high-stepping mare
+and his beanpole of a figure riding beside Benito in yon cloud of
+dust?"</p>
+<p>She smiled down at Inez. "Do not mind your mother's jesting--Go
+now to smooth your locks and place a rose within them--as I used to
+do when Don Roberto came."</p>
+<p>Inez rose and made her way into the casa. She heard a clatter of
+hoofs and voices. At the sound of one her heart leaped
+strangely.</p>
+<p>"We have famous news," she heard her brother say. "The name of
+Yerba Buena has been changed to San Francisco. Here is an account
+of it in Brannan's <i>California Star</i>." She heard the rustle of
+a paper then, once more her brother's voice: "San Francisco!" he
+pronounced it lovingly. "Some day it will be a ciudad
+grande--perhaps even in my time."</p>
+<p>"A great city!" repeated his mother. "Thus my father dreamed of
+it.... But you will pardon us, Don Adrian, for you have other
+things in mind than Yerb--than San Francisco's future. See, my
+little one! Even now she comes to bid you welcome."</p>
+<p>Inez as she joined them gave her hand to Stanley. "Ah, Don
+Adrian, your color is high"--her tone was bantering, mock-anxious.
+"You have not, perchance, a touch of fever?"</p>
+<p>He eyed her hungrily. "If I have," he spoke with that slow
+gentleness she loved so well, "it is no fever that requires roots
+or herbs.... Shall I," he came a little closer, "shall I put a name
+to it, Senorita?" His words were for her ears alone. Her eyes
+smiled into his. "Come, let us show you the rose garden, Senor
+Stanley," she said with playful formality and placed her
+silk-gloved fingers on his arm.</p>
+<p>Senora Windham's hand groped for her husband's. There were tears
+in her eyes, but he bent down and kissed them away. "Anita, mia, do
+not grieve. He is a good lad."</p>
+<p>"It is not that." She hid her face against his shoulder. "It is
+not that--"</p>
+<p>"I understand," he whispered.</p>
+<p>After a little time Benito spoke. "Mother, I learned something
+from the warring of the rancheros aganist Alcalde Bartlett." He
+came forward and picked up the newspaper which had fallen from his
+mother's lap. "I learned," his hand fell on his father's shoulder,
+"that I am an American."</p>
+<p>"Benito!" said his mother quickly.</p>
+<p>"I am Don Roberto's son, as well as thine, remember, madre mia!"
+he spoke with unusual gentleness. "Even with Sanchez, Vasquez and
+Guerrero at my side in battle, I did not shoot to kill. Something
+said within, 'These men are brothers. They are of the clan of Don
+Roberto, of thy father.' So I shot to miss. And when the
+commandante, Senor Hull, dismissed me with kind words--he who might
+have hanged me as a traitor--my heart was full of love for all his
+people. And contrition. Mother, you will forgive? You, who have
+taught me all the pride of the Hidalgo. For I must say the truth,
+to you and everyone...." He knelt at her feet, impressing a kiss of
+love and reverence upon her outstretched hand.</p>
+<p>"Rise, my son," she said, tremulously. "You are right, and it is
+well." She smiled. "Who am I to say my boy is no Americano? I, who
+wed the best and noblest of them all."</p>
+<p>There was a little silence. Inez and Don Adrian, returning,
+paused a moment, half dismayed. "Come, my children," said Anita
+Windham.</p>
+<p>"Ah," cried Inez, teasingly, "we are not the only ones who have
+been making love." She led her companion forward. "We have come to
+ask your blessing, mother, father mine," she whispered. "I," her
+eyes fell, "I am taken captive by a gringo."</p>
+<p>"Do not use that name," her mother said reprovingly. But Don
+Roberto laughed. "You are the second to declare allegiance to the
+Stars and Stripes." He took Benito's hand. "My son's discovered
+he's American, Don Adrian."</p>
+<p>Presently Benito spoke again. "That is not all, my father. There
+is soon to be a meeting for relief of immigrants lost in the Sierra
+Nevada snows. James Reed will organize an expedition from
+Yerb--from San Francisco. And I wish to go. There are women and
+children starving, perhaps."</p>
+<p>"It is the Donner party. They tried a short cut and the winter
+overtook them. I, too, will go," said Don Roberto.</p>
+<p>"And I," volunteered Stanley.</p>
+<p>But the women had it otherwise. "You have been too long gone
+from me," Anita quavered. "I would fear your loss again." And Inez
+argued that her Adrian was not recovered from his wound or illness.
+Finally it was decided that Benito only would accompany the
+expedition. The talk fell upon other matters. Alcalde Bartlett had
+been discredited, though not officially, since his return from
+capture by the rancheros. He was soon to be displaced and there
+would be no further commandeering of horses and cattle.</p>
+<p>"The commandante tells me," Windham said, "that there is still
+no news of the Warren's launch which was sent last December to pay
+the garrison at Sutter's Fort. Bob Ridley's men, who cruised the
+San Joaquin and Sacramento rivers, found nothing."</p>
+<p>"But--the boat and its crew couldn't vanish completely?"
+Benito's tone held puzzled incredulity. "There would be Wreckage.
+Floating bodies--"</p>
+<p>"Unless," said Adrian, "they had been hidden--buried secretly,
+perhaps."</p>
+<p>"Adrian, what do you mean?" asked Inez in excitement. "It was
+about the time that--"</p>
+<p>"McTurpin left," responded Stanley. "I've heard more than a
+whisper of his possible connection with the disappearance. McTurpin
+didn't leave alone. He rounded up half a dozen rough-looking
+fellows and they rode out of town together."</p>
+<p>There was a silence. Then Benito spoke. "We haven't seen the
+last of him, I fear."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2>
+<h3>THE NEW YORK VOLUNTEERS</h3>
+<br>
+<p>It was almost a month later that Inez galloped home from San
+Francisco with a precious missive from the absent brother. They had
+outfitted at Johnson's ranch near Sacramento and, encountered the
+first expedition returning with twenty-two starved wretches from
+the Donner Camp. Many women and children still remained there.</p>
+<p>"We started on the day which is a gringo fete because it is the
+natal anniversary of the great George Washington," Benito's
+chronicle concluded. "May it prove a good omen, and may we bring
+freedom, life to the poor souls engulfed by the snowdrifts. I kiss
+your hands. BENITO."</p>
+<p>A fortnight passed before there came another letter. The second
+relief party had reached Donner Camp without mishap but, with
+seventeen survivors, had been storm-bound on a mountain summit and
+returned with but eleven of the rescued after frightful hardship.
+Benito was recuperating in a Sacramento hospital from frozen
+feet.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>"Look, Roberto," exclaimed Senora Windham as they cantered into
+San Francisco one morning. "A ship all gay with banners! See the
+townsfolk are excited. They rush to the Embarcadero. The band
+plays. It must be the festival of some Americano patron saint."</p>
+<p>"It is the long expected New York volunteers," replied her
+husband. "They've been recruited for the past year for service in
+California. Colonel Stevenson, the commander, is a most
+distinguished man. The president himself made him an offer of
+command if he could raise a regiment of California volunteers."
+Windham smiled. "I believe it is for colonization rather than
+actual military duty that they've been sent out here ... three
+shiploads of them with two doctors and a chaplain."</p>
+<p>As they picked their way along a narrow footpath toward the
+beach, the portly Leidesdorff advanced to greet them. "Would that I
+had a cloak of velvet," he said gallantly, "so that I might lay it
+in the mire at your feet, fair lady." Anita Windham flashed a smile
+at him. "Like the chivalrous Don Walter Raleigh," she responded.
+"Ah, but I am not a Queen Elizabeth. Nor is this London." She
+regarded with a shrug of distaste the stretch of mud-flats reaching
+to the tide-line, rubbish--littered and unfragrant. Knee-deep in
+its mire, bare-legged Indians and booted men drove piles for the
+superstructure of a new pier.</p>
+<p>Lieutenant Bryant joined them, brisk and natty in his naval
+garb. He was the new alcalde, Bartlett having been displaced and
+ordered to rejoin his ship.</p>
+<p>"No, it's not London," he took up Anita's statement, "but it's
+going to be a better San Francisco if I have my way. We'll fill
+that bog with sand and lay out streets between Fort Montgomery and
+the Rincon, if the governor'll cede the tide-flats to the town.
+Jasper O'Farrell is making a map."</p>
+<p>"See, they are landing," cried the Dona Windham, clapping her
+hands.</p>
+<p>A boat put off amid hails from the shore. Soon four officers and
+a boat's crew stood upon the landing pier and gazed about them
+curiously.</p>
+<p>"That's Colonel Stevenson," said Bryant, nodding toward the
+leader. On the verge of fifty, statesmanlike of mien and manner,
+stood the man who had recruited the first volunteer company which
+came around The Horn. He fingered his sword a bit awkwardly, as
+though unused to military dress formalities. But his eyes were keen
+and eager and commanding.</p>
+<p>More boats put off from the anchored vessel. By and by the
+parade began, led by Captain Stevenson. It was a straggling
+military formation that toiled up-hill through the sand toward
+Portsmouth Square. These men were from the byways and hedges of
+life. Some of them had shifty eyes and some bold, predatory glances
+which forebode nothing good for San Francisco's peace. Adventurers
+for the most part, lured to this new land, some by the wander
+spirit, others by a wish to free themselves from the restraints of
+law. Certain of them were to die upon the gallows; others were to
+be the proud and honored citizens of a raw, potential metropolis.
+They talked loudly, vehemently, to one another as they marched like
+school boys seeing strange sights, pointing eagerly at all that
+aroused their interest. The officers marched more stiffly as though
+conscious of official noblesse oblige.</p>
+<p>"I wish that Inez might have seen it," Mrs. Windham said a
+little wistfully. "But she must help the Indian seamstress with her
+gown for the dance. Don Adrian is to be there."</p>
+<p>"He has decided that there are other ways of serving God than in
+the pulpit," remarked Stanley. "They talk of making him the master
+of the school ... if our committee can ever decide on a location
+and what's to pay for it."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>In the full regimentals of his rank, Colonel Stevenson graced
+Leidesdorff's ballroom that evening, cordially exchanging smiles
+and bows with San Francisco's citizenry. Besides him was his
+quartermaster, Captain Joseph Folsom who, though less than thirty,
+had seen active service in a Florida campaign against the
+Seminoles. He held himself slightly aloof with the class
+consciousness of the West Pointer.</p>
+<p>Nearby stood a lanky surgeon of the volunteers discussing
+antiseptics with Dr. Jones. Leidesdorff was everywhere,
+pathetically eager to please, an ecstatic, perspiring figure,
+making innumerable inquiries as to the comfort of his guests.</p>
+<p>"He's like a mother hen worried over a brood of new chicks,"
+said Brannan to Jasper O'Farrell.</p>
+<p>"And a damned fine little man," the Irishman answered. "Oh--I
+beg your pardon, Senorita."</p>
+<p>Inez Windham smiled forgiveness, nodding when he asked her for a
+dance. "Tell me," she asked eagerly, "of the grand new map you make
+for San Francisco."</p>
+<p>"Ah," O'Farrell said, "they laugh at it because I have to change
+Vioget's acute and obtuse angles. They call it 'O'Farrell's Swing.'
+You see, I've had to change the direction of some streets. There
+are many more now. Eight hundred acres laid out like a city."</p>
+<p>As the music stopped he led her to a bench and fumbled in his
+pocket for a drawing which he straightened on his knees. "See, here
+is a new road through the center, a broad way, straight as an arrow
+from the bay to the foot of Twin Peaks. It parallels the Mission
+camino, and Bryant wants to call it Market street."</p>
+<p>"But how is this?" asked Inez puzzled, "streets where there is
+only mud and water--"</p>
+<p>"They will be reclaimed with the waste from our leveled sand
+hills," said O'Farrell. He glanced about him searchingly, then
+whispered: "Tonight Governor Mason told me confidentially he would
+cede the tide flats to our local government, provided they are sold
+at auction for the benefit of San Francisco. They'll go cheap; but
+some day they'll be worth thousands. Tell your father--"</p>
+<p>He broke off hastily. Toward them stalked Benito Windham,
+covered with dust as though from a long ride. There was trouble in
+his eyes. With a swift apology he drew his sister aside.
+"McTurpin," he panted. "He is back ... with a dozen men ... riding
+toward the rancho."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+<h3>THE "SYDNEY DUCKS"</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Dazed with the suddenness of Benito's announcement and its
+menacing augury, Inez sought her father and Adrian. The latter
+acted instantly. "Do not tell your wife," he said to Windham.
+"There may be nothing amiss. And if there should be, she will find
+no profit in knowing. Tell her you are called away and follow me to
+the square. We will ride at once to the rancho."</p>
+<p>He pressed Inez' hand and was gone. "Take care of your mother,"
+he said over his shoulder, an admonition which Don Roberto repeated
+a moment later as he hurried out. She was left alone in a maze of
+doubts, fears, speculations. What was McTurpin doing in San
+Francisco? Why had he and his companions ridden toward the Windham
+rancho? There was only one answer. Most of the vaqueros were at a
+fandango in the Mission. Only the serving women and a few men too
+old for dancing remained at home.</p>
+<p>Meawhile her brother, father, lover were speeding homeward, into
+what? A trap? An ambush? Certainly to battle with a foe
+out-numbering them four to one.</p>
+<p>At the Mission were a dozen of their servants; men whose fathers
+and grandfathers had ridden herd for her family. Any one of them
+would give his life to serve a Windham.</p>
+<p>Inez looked about her feverishly. Should she ask O'Farrell to
+accompany her? He was dancing with one of the Mormon women. Brannan
+and Spear were not to be seen. Leidesdorff was impossible in such
+an emergency. Besides, she could not take him from his guests. She
+would go alone, decided Inez. Quietly she made her way to the
+cloak-room, in charge of an Indian servant, caught up her mantilla
+and riding crop and fled. On the square her horse whinnied at her
+approach as if eager to be gone. Swiftly she climbed into the
+saddle and spurred forward.</p>
+<p>Far ahead gleamed the lights of the Mission. They were making
+merry there with the games and dance of old Spain. And to the south
+Benito, Adrian, her father, rode toward a battle with treacherous
+men. Breathlessly she spurred her horse to greater effort. Trees
+flashed by like witches in the dark. Presently she heard the music
+of the fandango.</p>
+<p>Another picture framed itself before her vision. Excited faces
+round her. A sudden stoppage of the music, a frocked priest making
+anxious inquiries. Her own wild words; a jingle of spurs. Then many
+hoofs pounding on the road beside her.</p>
+<p>She never knew just what had happened, what she had said. But
+now she felt the sting of the bay breeze in her face and Antonio's
+steady hand upon her saddle pommel.</p>
+<p>"Caramba!" he was muttering. "The pig of a gringo once more. And
+your father; the little Benito. Hurry, comrades, faster! faster! To
+the rescue!"</p>
+<p>Came a third picture, finally more clear, more disconcerting.
+The entrance to her father's ranch barred by armed riders. McTurpin
+smiling insolent in the moonlight, bowing to her while Antonio
+muttered in suppressed wrath.</p>
+<p>"We have three hostages here, senorita ... relatives of yours
+and ah--a friend." His voice, cold, threatening, spoke on. "They
+are unharmed--as yet."</p>
+<p>"I don't believe you," Inez stormed at him.</p>
+<p>"Tell them, Senor Windham," said McTurpin, "that I speak the
+truth."</p>
+<p>"Inez, it is true," her father spoke out of some shadowed
+darkness. "We were ambushed. Taken by surprise."</p>
+<p>"What do you propose?" asked Antonio, unable longer to restrain
+himself.</p>
+<p>"To turn them loose ... upon their word not to trouble us
+further," said McTurpin. "I have merely assumed control of my
+property. I hold the conveyance of Benito Windham. It is all quite
+regular," he laughed shortly.</p>
+<p>Antonio moved uneasily. His hand upon the lariat itched for a
+cast. McTurpin saw it. "You'll do well to sit still in the saddle,"
+he reminded, "all of you. We have you covered."</p>
+<p>"What are your orders, master?" said the chief vaquero tensely.
+"Say the word and we will--"</p>
+<p>"No," commanded Windham. "There shall be no fighting now. We
+will go. Tomorrow we shall visit the Alcalde. I can promise no more
+than this."</p>
+<p>"It's enough," McTurpin answered. "I've possession. I've a deed
+with your son's signature. And a dozen good friends to uphold me."
+He turned. "Take their pistols, friends, and let them go."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>George Hyde looked up from a sheaf of drawing which lay on the
+table before him and which represented the new survey of San
+Francisco. A boy with a bundle of papers under his arm entered
+unannounced, tossed a copy of "The California Star" toward him and
+departed. Hyde picked it up and read:</p>
+<blockquote>"GREAT SALE OF VALUABLE REAL ESTATE IN<br>
+THE TOWN OF SAN FRANCISCO, UPPER CALIFORNIA.<br>
+<br>
+"By the following decree of His Excellency, General S.W. Kearny,
+Governor of California, all the right, title and interest of the
+United States and of the territory of California to the BEACH AND
+WATER lots on the east front of the town of San Francisco have been
+granted, conveyed and released to the people or corporate
+authorities of said town--"</blockquote>
+<br>
+<p>Hyde read on. There was a post-script by Edwin Bryant, his
+predecessor as alcalde, calling a public sale for June 29. That was
+rather soon. But he would see. Hyde had an antipathy to any rule or
+circumstance fixed by another. His enemies called him "pig-headed";
+his friends "forceful," though with a sigh. There was something
+highhanded in the look and manner of him, though few men had better
+intent. Now his glance fell on another, smaller item in the
+newspaper.</p>
+<blockquote>"SYDNEY DUCKS ARRIVE."<br>
+<br>
+"In recent vessels from the antipodes have come numerous men from
+Australia who, according to rumor, are deported English criminals,
+known as 'Sydney Ducks.' It is said that the English government
+winks at the escape of these birds of ill omen, who are lured
+hither by tales of our lawlessness carried by sailormen. It is high
+time we had a little more law in San Francisco."</blockquote>
+<br>
+<p>That was another of his problems, Hyde reflected irritably.
+"Sydney Ducks." There would be many more no doubt, for San
+Francisco was growing. It had 500 citizens, irrespective of the New
+York volunteers; 157 buildings. He would need helpers in the task
+of city-governing. Half idly he jotted down the names of men that
+would prove good henchmen:</p>
+<p>"William A. Leidesdorff, Robert A. Parker, Jose P. Thompson,
+Pedro Sherreback, John Rose, Benjamin Buckalew."</p>
+<p>It had a cosmopolitan smack, though it ignored some prominent
+and capable San Franciscans. William Clark, for instance, with whom
+Washington Bartlett had quarreled over town lots, Dr. Elbert Jones
+and William Howard. Hyde was not certain whether they would be
+amenable to his program. Well, he would see.</p>
+<p>A shadow loomed in his doorway. He looked up to see Adrian
+Stanley and Robert Windham.</p>
+<p>"Come in. Come in." He tried to speak cordially, but there was a
+shade of irritation in his tone. They, too, were a problem.</p>
+<p>"Be seated," he invited, as the two men entered. But they stood
+before him rather stiffly.</p>
+<p>"Is there any--news?" asked Adrian.</p>
+<p>"Nothing favorable," said Hyde uneasily. He made an impatient
+gesture. "You can see for yourselves, gentlemen, that my hands are
+tied. The man--what's-his-name?--McTurpin, has a perfectly correct
+conveyance signed by your son. Benito, I understand, does not deny
+his signature. And his right is unquestioned, for the property came
+to him direct from his uncle, who was Francisco Garvez' only
+son."</p>
+<p>"But--" began Adrian hotly.</p>
+<p>"Yes, yes, I know," Hyde interrupted. "The man is a rascal. But
+what of that? It does not help us; I have no power to aid you,
+gentlemen."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
+<h3>THE AUCTION ON THE BEACH</h3>
+<br>
+<p>It was the morning of July 20. Fog drifts rode the bay like huge
+white swans, shrouding the Island of Alcatraz with a rise and fall
+of impalpable wings and casting many a whilom plume over the tents
+and adobe houses nestling between sandhills and scrub-oaks in the
+cove of San Francisco.</p>
+<p>Robert and Benito Windham, on the hill above Clark's Point,
+looked down toward the beach, where a crowd was gathering for the
+auction of tidewater lots. The Windhams, since their dispossession
+by McTurpin, had been guests of hospitable Juana Briones. Through
+the Alcalde's order they had secured their personal effects. But
+the former gambler still held right and title to the Windham acres.
+Adrian Stanley made his home at the City Hotel and had been
+occupied with an impromptu school where some four score children
+and half a dozen illiterates were daily taught the mysteries of the
+"Three Rs."</p>
+<p>"Adrian has determined to buy some of these mud-lots," said
+Windham to his son. "He believes some day they will be valuable and
+that he will make his fortune." He sighed. "I fear my son-to-be is
+something of a visionary."</p>
+<p>Benito gave his father a quick, almost furtive glance. "Do not
+condemn him for that," he said, with a hint of reproach. "Adrian is
+far-sighted, yes; but not a dreamer."</p>
+<p>"What can he do with a square of bog that is covered half of the
+time by water?" asked Windham.</p>
+<p>"Ah," Benito said, "we've talked that over, Adrian and I. Adrian
+has a plan of reclamation. An engineering project for leveling
+sandhills by contract and using the waste to cover his land. He has
+already arranged for ox-teams and wagons. It is perfectly feasible,
+my father."</p>
+<p>Robert Windham smiled at the other's enthusiasm. "Perhaps you
+are right," he said. "God grant it--and justify your faith in that
+huddle of huts below."</p>
+<p>Below them a man had mounted an improvised platform. He was
+waving his arms, haranguing an ever-growing audience. Benito
+stirred uneasily. "I must go," he said. "I promised Adrian to join
+him."</p>
+<p>"Very well," returned his father. He watched the slight and
+supple figure riding down the slope.</p>
+<p>Slowly he made his way back to the Rancho Briones. His wife met
+him at the gate.</p>
+<p>"Juana and Inez have gone to the sale," she announced. "Shall we
+join them in the pueblo later on?"</p>
+<p>"Nay, Anita," he said, "unless you wish it.... I have no faith
+in mire."</p>
+<p>She looked up at him anxiously. "Roberto! I grieve to hear it.
+They--" she checked herself.</p>
+<p>"They--what, my love?" he asked curiously.</p>
+<p>"They have gone to buy," said Anita. "Juana has great faith. She
+has considerable money. And Inez has taken her jewels--even a few
+of mine. The Senor O'Farrell whispered to her at the ball that the
+lots would sell for little and their value would increase
+immensely."</p>
+<p>"So, that is why Benito has his silver-mounted harness," Windham
+spoke half to himself. He smiled a little ruefully. "You are all
+gamblers, dreamers.... You dear ones of Spanish heritage."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>On the beach a strangely varied human herd pressed close around
+a platform upon which stood Samuel Brannan and Alcalde Hyde. The
+former had promised to act as auctioneer and looked over a sheaf of
+notes while Hyde in his dry, precise and positive tone read the
+details of the forthcoming sale. It would last three days, Hyde
+informed his hearers, and 450 lots would be sold. North of the
+broad street paralleling the Mission Camino lots were sixteen and a
+half varas wide and fifty varas deep. All were between the limits
+of low and high water mark.</p>
+<p>"What's a vara?" shouted a new arrival.</p>
+<p>"A Spanish yard," explained Hyde, "about thirty-three and a
+third inches of English measure. Gentlemen, you are required to
+fence your lots and build a house within a year. The fees for
+recording and deed will be $3.62, and the terms of payment are a
+fourth down, the balance in equal payments during a period of
+eighteen months."</p>
+<p>"How about the lots that lie south?" cried a voice.</p>
+<p>"They are one hundred varas square, same terms, same fees,"
+replied Hyde. He stepped down and Brannan began his address.</p>
+<p>"The site of San Francisco is known to all navigators and
+mercantile men to be the most commanding commercial position on the
+entire eastern coast of the Pacific Ocean," he shouted, quoting
+from former Alcalde Bryant's announcement of three months previous.
+"The town itself is destined to become the commercial emporium of
+western America."</p>
+<p>"Bravo!" supplemented the Dona Briones, waving her fan. She was
+the center of a little group composed of Benito and Inez Windham,
+Adrian Stanley and Nathan Spear. Near them, keeping out of their
+observance, stood Aleck McTurpin.</p>
+<p>"The property offered for sale is the most valuable in or
+belonging to the town," Brannan went on, enthusiastically; "it will
+require work to make it tenable. You'll have to wrest it from the
+waves, gentlemen ... and ladies," he bowed to Juana and her
+companion, "but, take my word for it--and I've never deceived
+you--everyone who buys will bless my memory half a dozen years from
+now...."</p>
+<p>"Why don't ye get in yerself and practice what ye preach?" cried
+a scoffing sailor.</p>
+<p>Brannan looked him up and down. "Because I'm trying to serve the
+commonwealth--which is more than a drunken deserter from his ship
+can claim," he shot back hotly, "but I'm going to buy my share,
+never fear. Bill Leidesdorff's my agent. He has $5,000 and my power
+of attorney. That's fair enough, isn't it boys? Or, shall we let
+the sailor act as auctioneer?"</p>
+<p>"No! No!" a dozen cried. "'Rah for Sam. Go on! You're doin'
+fine!"</p>
+<p>"Thank you," Brannan acknowledged. "Who's to make the first bid?
+Speak up, now, don't be bashful."</p>
+<p>"Twenty-five dollars," called Juana Briones.</p>
+<p>"Thirty," said a voice behind her, a voice that caused young
+Windham and his sister to start, involuntarily. "McTurpin,"
+whispered Inez to Adrian.</p>
+<p>"Thirty-five," spoke Juana, imperturbably.</p>
+<p>"Forty."</p>
+<p>Brannan looked straight into McTurpin's eyes. "Sold to Juana
+Briones for thirty-five dollars," he said, as his improvised gavel
+fell on the table before him.</p>
+<p>"I bid forty!" stormed McTurpin. All eyes turned to him. But
+Brannan paid him no attention. Someone laughed.</p>
+<p>"Next! Who bids?" invited the auctioneer.</p>
+<p>"Twenty-five," began Benito.</p>
+<p>This time there were other bidders, all of whom Brannan
+recognized courteously and promptly. Finally, Benito's bid of fifty
+seemed to win. Then McTurpin shouted, "Fifty-five!"</p>
+<p>Brannan waited for a moment. There were no more bids. "Sold to
+Benito Windham for fifty dollars," he announced.</p>
+<p>"Curse you!" cried the gambler, pushing forward, "you heard me
+bid higher, Sam Brannan!"</p>
+<p>Into his path stepped the tall figure of Robert Windham. "We are
+not taking bids from convicts," he said, loudly and distinctly.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2>
+<h3>THE BEGINNING OF LAW</h3>
+<br>
+<p>McTurpin's look of blind astonishment at Windham's words was
+succeeded by a whitehot fury. Two eyes gleamed with snake-like
+venom and two spots of red glowed in his cheeks, as though each had
+felt the impact of a sudden blow. For a moment he neither moved nor
+spoke. Then a hand, which trembled slightly, made a lightning move
+toward his hip.</p>
+<p>"I wouldn't," drawled the voice of Robert Windham. His right
+hand, loosely in a pocket of his coat, moved slightly. "I've got
+you covered, Sydney Duck McTurpin ... if that's your real
+name."</p>
+<p>The other's hand fell at his side. The two men's glances
+countered, held each other, one calm, dignified, unafraid; the
+other, murderous, searching, baffled. Presently, McTurpin turned
+and strode away. Windham looked after the departing gambler.
+"'Fraid I've spoiled his morning," he remarked to Nathan Spear.</p>
+<p>"Yes--to chance a knife or bullet in the back," retorted Spear,
+uneasily. Their further confidence was drowned in Brannan's
+exhortations: "On with the sale, boys," he shouted. "The side
+show's over ... with nobody hurt, thank Heaven! What'll you bid for
+a lot in the southern part of town? They're a hundred varas
+square--four times as big as the others. Not as central, maybe, but
+in ten years I bet they'll bring a thousand dollars. What's bid for
+a south lot, my hearties?"</p>
+<p>"Twenty-five dollars," said Inez Windham.</p>
+<p>"Oh, come, now, Senorita," cried the auctioneer, intriguingly,
+"twenty-five dollars for a hundred-vara lot. Have you no more faith
+in San Francisco?"</p>
+<p>"Its--all I have...." the girl spoke almost in a whisper.</p>
+<p>Brannan frowned. He looked about him threateningly. "Does anyone
+bid higher than Miss Windham?" he demanded. There was no response.
+Brannan's gavel fell, decisively. "Sold!" he cried, and half a
+dozen voices cheered.</p>
+<p>Inez Windham made her way to the auctioneer's stand and handed
+three banknotes to Alcalde Hyde. "But, my dear young lady," he
+expostulated, "you need only pay a fourth of the money down. Six
+dollars and a quarter is enough."</p>
+<p>"Oh," said Inez, "then I could have bought more, couldn't I!"
+She turned to Brannan, eagerly. "I could have bought four lots--if
+I'd only known."</p>
+<p>Brannan smiled at her. Then he turned to the crowd. "What d'ye
+say, boys, shall we let her have 'em?" he inquired. Instantly the
+answer came: "Yes, yes, give her the four. God bless her. She'll
+bring us luck."</p>
+<p>Impulsively, Inez mounted the platform; astonished at her own
+temerity, at the exuberance of some new freedom, springing from the
+barriers of a shielded life, she shouted at these strange, rough
+men about her: "Thank you, gentlemen!" Then her mother's look of
+horrified, surprise brought a sudden red into her cheeks. She
+turned and fled. Her father smiled, indulgently; Anita's frown
+changed presently into a look of whimsical, perplexed affection. "I
+am always forgetting, Inez mia," she said, softly, "that this is a
+new day--the day of the Americano."</p>
+<p>She watched Benito shouting bids at the side of Adrian, vying
+with such men as Howard, Mellus, Clark and Leidesdorff in the quest
+for lots. "Fifty of them have been sold already," Windham told her.
+"The auction will last three days because there are four hundred
+more."</p>
+<p>Suddenly, Anita Windham put forth a hand and touched that of her
+husband. "Buy one, for me, Roberto," she pleaded.</p>
+<p>"But--" he hesitated, "Anita carissima, what will you do with a
+rectangle of mire in this rough, unsettled place?"</p>
+<p>"For sentiment," she answered, softly, "in memory of my father,
+who had such abundant faith in San Francisco.... And, perhaps, Don
+Samuel is right. We may yet bless his name."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>The summer of 1847 had passed. Inez Windham was the wife of
+Adrian Stanley. He had given up his school for larger matters.
+Every day his ox-teams struggled over sandy bottoms to the tune of
+snapping whips and picturesque profanity by Indian drivers. Men
+with shovels leveling the sand hills, piled the wagons high with
+shimmering white grains which were carried to the shore and dumped
+into pile-surrounded bogs till the tides left them high and dry.
+San Francisco reached farther and farther into the bay, wresting
+irregular nooks and corners from the ebbing-flowing waters,
+building rickety, improvised piers, sometimes washed out by the
+northers which unexpectedly came down with tempestuous fury.
+Quaint, haphazard buildings made their appearance, strange
+architectural mushrooms grown almost over night, clapboarded
+squares with paper or muslin partitions for inner walls. Under some
+the tides washed at their full and small craft discharged cargoes
+at their back doors. Ships came from Boston, Bremen, Sitka, Chile,
+Mexico, the Sandwich Islands, bringing all manner of necessities
+and luxuries. Monthly mails had been established between San
+Francisco and San Diego, as well as intermediate points, and there
+was talk of a pony express to Independence, Missouri.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>There were many crimes of high and low degree, from rifled tills
+to dead men found half buried in the sands. Rumor told of thieves
+and murderers encamped in the hollow bowl of a great sandhill,
+where they slept or caroused by day, venturing forth only at night.
+Aleck McTurpin's name was now and then associated with them as a
+leader. Men were importing safes from the States and carrying
+derringers at night--even the peaceful Mormons. At this time
+Governor Mason addressed to Alcalde Hyde an order for the election
+of a Town Council.</p>
+<p>Adrian was full of these doings when he came home from an
+executive session before which he had appeared as an expert on
+reclamation. "They are good men, Inez," he declared,
+enthusiastically. "They'll bring law to San Francisco. And law is
+what we need more than all else, my dear."</p>
+<p>"And how will they go about it, with no prison-house, no courts
+or judges?" asked Inez, wonderingly.</p>
+<p>"Oh, those will soon be provided," he assured, "When there is a
+will for law the machinery comes." He smiled grimly. "McTurpin and
+his ilk had better look to themselves.... We are going after the
+gamblers."</p>
+<br>
+<a name="page084.jpg"></a>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/page084.jpg" width="85%" alt=
+""><br>
+<b>Men with shovels, leveling the sand-hills, piled the wagons high
+with shimmering grains which were ... dumped into pile-surrounded
+bogs. San Francisco reached farther and farther out into the
+bay.</b></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2>
+<h3>GOLD! GOLD! GOLD!</h3>
+<br>
+<p>San Francisco never could remember when the first rumor of gold
+reached it. Gold was to mean its transformation from a struggling
+town into a turbulent, riotous city, a mecca of the world's
+adventurers.</p>
+<p>Benito Windham, early in the spring of '48 brought home an echo
+of it from San Jose. One of Sutter's teamsters had exchanged a
+little pouch of golden grains for a flask of aguardiente. Afterward
+he had told of finding it in the tail-race of Marshall's mill on
+the south fork of the American River. Little credence had been
+given his announcements. In the south, near San Fernando Mission,
+gold had long ago been found, but not in sufficient quantities to
+allure the fortune hunter.</p>
+<p>"See, is it not pretty?" asked Benito, pouring out a handful of
+the shining stuff which he had purchased from the teamster.</p>
+<p>"Pretty, yes, but what's it worth?" asked Adrian, dubiously.</p>
+<p>"Some say it's true value is $16 for an ounce," responded Inez,
+her eyes shining. "Samuel Brannan had a letter from a member of his
+band who says they wash it from the river sand in pans."</p>
+<p>"Sam's skeptical, though," retorted Stanley. "And, as for me,
+I've a mine right here in San Francisco." He spoke
+enthusiastically. "Moving sandhills into the bay. Making a new city
+front out of flooded bogs! That's realism. Romance. And what's
+better, fortune! Isn't it, my girl?"</p>
+<p>Inez' eyes were proud. "Fortune, yes, and not a selfish one. For
+it is making others richer, San Francisco better."</p>
+<p>"Which is well enough for you," returned Benito with a hint of
+sullenness. "But I am tired of clerking for Ward &amp; Smith at two
+dollars a day. There's no romance in that." With a quick, restless
+motion he ran the golden dust through his fingers again. "I hope
+they are true, these stories. And if they are--" he looked at the
+others challengingly, "then I'm off to the mines, muy pronto."</p>
+<p>"Come," said Stanley, "let us have a game of chess together."
+But Benito, with a muttered apology, left them and went out. San
+Francisco had streets now, since the O'Farrell survey's adoption by
+the council. The old Calle de Fundacion had become Dupont street
+and below it was Kearny street, named after the General and former
+Governor. To the west were parallel roads, scarcely worthy of the
+name of thoroughfares, christened in honor of Commodore Stockton,
+Surgeon Powell of the sloop-of-war Warren, Dr. Elbert Jones,
+Governor Mason, Chaplain Leavenworth, the present Alcalde, and
+George Hyde, the former one. Thomas Larkin, former counsel at
+Monterey, was also to be distinguished. East and west the streets
+had more haphazard names. Broadway and California were the widest,
+aside from the projected Market street, which would have a lordly
+breadth of 120 feet. Some were named after Presidents--Jackson,
+Washington and Clay.</p>
+<p>The council had authorized two long wharves, one at the foot of
+Clay street, 547 feet long. This was a great undertaking and had
+caused much discussion pro and con. But now it was almost completed
+and a matter of much civic pride. Large ships, anchored at its
+terminus, were discharging cargo, and thither Benito bent his
+course, head bent, hat pulled well down on his forehead, until a
+rousing slap on the back spun him around almost angrily. He looked
+into the wise and smiling eyes of Edward C. Kemble.</p>
+<p>"Well, lad," the editor of the <i>Californian Star</i> accosted,
+"I hear you've been to San Jose. What's new up there, if I may ask
+you?"</p>
+<p>"Very little ... nothing," said Benito, adding, "save the talk
+of gold at Marshall's mill."</p>
+<p>"Pooh!" exclaimed the editor. "Marshall's mill, and Mormon
+island! One would think the famous fairy tale of El Dorado had come
+true."</p>
+<p>"You place no credence in it, then?" asked Benito,
+disappointed.</p>
+<p>"Not I," said Kemble. "See here," he struck one fist into the
+palm of another. "All such balderdash is bad for San Francisco.
+We're trying to get ahead, grow, be a city. Look at the work going
+on. That means progress, sustained stimulus. And along come these
+stories of gold finds. It's the wrong time. The wrong time, I tell
+you. It'll interfere. If we get folks excited they'll pull out for
+the hills, the wilderness. Everything'll stop here.... Then, bye
+and bye, they'll come back--busted! Mark my words, BUSTED! Is that
+business? No."</p>
+<p>He went off shaking his head sagely. Benito puzzled, half
+resentful, gazed after him. He abandoned the walk to the dock and
+returned with low-spirited resignation to his tasks at Ward &amp;
+Smith's store.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>For several months gold rumors continued to come. Citizens,
+fearing ridicule, perhaps, slipped unobtrusively out of town, to
+test their truth. Kemble was back from a trip to the so-called gold
+fields. Editorially, he made sport of his findings. He had seen
+feather-brained fortune-seekers gambling hopelessly with fate,
+suffering untold hardships for half the pay they could have gained
+from "honest labor."</p>
+<p>Now and then a miner, dirty and disheveled, came in ragged
+clothes to gamble or drink away the contents of a pouch of "dust."
+It was at first received suspiciously. Barkeepers took "a pinch for
+a drink," meaning what they could grasp with their fingers, and one
+huge-fisted man estimated that this method netted him three dollars
+per glass.</p>
+<p>San Francisco awoke to a famine in butcher-knives, pans and
+candles. Knives at first were used to gouge out auriferous rock,
+and soon these common household appurtenances brought as high as
+twenty-five dollars each. Candles ere long were the equivalent of
+dollars, and pans were cheap at five dollars each.</p>
+<p>Still San Francisco waited, though a constant dribble of
+departures made at last perceptible inroads on its population.
+Then, one May afternoon, the fat was in the fire.</p>
+<p>Samuel Brannan, who had been at his store in New Helvetia, rode
+through the streets, holding a pint flask of gold-dust in one hand,
+swinging his hat with the other, and whooping like a madman:</p>
+<p>"Gold! Gold! Gold! From the American River!"</p>
+<p>As if he had applied a torch to the hayrick of popular interest,
+San Francisco flamed with fortune-seeking ardor. Next morning many
+stores remained unopened. There were neither clerks nor
+proprietors. Soldiers fled from the garrison, and Lieutenant
+William T. Sherman was seen galloping northward with a provost
+guard to recapture a score of deserters. Children found no teacher
+at the new schoolhouse and for months its doors were barred.
+Cargoes, half-discharged, lay on the wharves, unwarehoused. Crews
+left en masse for the mines, and ships floated unmanned at anchor.
+Many of them never went to sea again.</p>
+<p>On every road a hegira of the gold-mad swept northward, many
+afoot, with heavy burdens, the more fortunate with horses and pack
+animals. Men, old, young, richly dressed and ragged--men of all
+conditions, races, nations.</p>
+<p>The end of May, in 1848, found San Francisco a manless Eden.
+Stanley, struggling with a few elderly Indians and squaws to carry
+on his work, bemoaned the madcap folly bitterly.</p>
+<br>
+<a name="page088.jpg"></a>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/page088.jpg" width="85%" alt=
+""><br>
+<b>Samuel Brannan rode through the streets, holding a pint flask of
+gold-dust in one hand ... and whooping like a madman: "Gold! Gold!
+Gold! From the American River!"</b></p>
+<br>
+<p>But Benito, with shining eyes, rode on to what seemed Destiny
+and Fortune. Ward &amp; Smith's little shop lay far behind him.
+Even his sister and her busy husband. Before him beckoned Gold! The
+lure, adventure, danger of it, like a smiling woman. And his spirit
+stretched forth longing arms.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2>
+<h3>THE QUEST OF FORTUNE</h3>
+<br>
+<p>By the end of June more than half of San Francisco's population
+had departed for the mines. They went by varied routes, mostly on
+horseback. Rowboats, which a month ago had sold for $50, were now
+bringing ten times that sum, for many took the river route to the
+gold fields. Others toiled their way through the hills and the
+Livermore Valley. The ferry across Carquinez Straits at Benicia,
+was thronged to the danger of sinking.</p>
+<p>Those who stayed at home awaited eagerly the irregular mails
+which straggled in from unsettled, unorganized, often inaccessible
+regions where men cut and slashed the bowels of the earth for
+precious metal, or waded knee-deep in icy torrents, washing their
+sands in shallow containers for golden residue. No letter had come
+from Benito to Inez or Adrian. But Robert Windham wrote from
+Monterey as follows:</p>
+<p>"My Children: Monterey is mad with the gold-lust, and our
+citizens are departing with a haste that threatens depopulation.
+Until recently we had small belief in the tales of sudden fortune
+started by the finds at Marshall's mill. Alcalde Colton dispatched
+a messenger to the American River on the 6th of June, and, though
+he has not returned, others have brought the news he was sent to
+gain. On the 12th a man came into town with a nugget weighing an
+ounce and all Monterey Buzzed with excitement. Everyone wanted to
+test it with acids and microscopes. An old woman brought her ring
+and when placed side by side, the metal seemed identical; it was
+also compared with the gold knob of a cane. Some declare it a
+humbug, but it is generally believed to be genuine gold.</p>
+<p>"Governor Mason, who has been messing with Alcalde Colton and a
+naval officer named Lieutenant Lanman, is now compelled to bake his
+own bread. The trio roast their coffee and cook what meals they
+eat. Even the negro who blacked their boots went gold hunting and
+returned after a few weeks with $2000.</p>
+<p>"Yesterday I met a rough-looking fellow who appeared to be
+starving. He had a sack on his shoulder in which was gold-dust and
+nuggets worth $15,000. You should have seen him a few hours
+later--all perfumed and barbered, with shiny boots; costly,
+ill-fitting clothes and a marvelous display of jewelry.</p>
+<p>"Alcalde Colton is going to the mines next month. He laughed
+when he told me of Henry Bee, the alguacil or jailor of San Jose.
+This man had charge of ten prisoners, some of whom were Indians,
+charged with murder. He tried to turn them over to the alcalde, but
+the latter was at the mines. So Bee took his prisoners with him. It
+is said their digging has already made him rich and that he'll let
+them loose. There is no one to chide him. And no one to care."</p>
+<p>Later in the day Sam Brannan and Editor Kemble looked in on the
+Stanleys. "It's sheer insanity!" exploded Kemble. "The soldiers
+have gone--left their wives and their children to starve. Even the
+church is locked. Governor Mason has threatened martial law in the
+mining regions, which are filled with cutthroats and robbers. It's
+said he contemplates giving furloughs of two or three months to the
+gold-fevered troops which remain. Was there ever such idiocy?"</p>
+<p>"You're wrong, Ed," Brannan told him. "This gold boom is the
+biggest thing that's ever happened. It'll bring the world to our
+door. Why, Mason has reported that gold enough's been taken from
+the mines already to pay for the Mexican war."</p>
+<p>"Bah!" cried Kemble, and stalked out muttering. Brannan laughed.
+"He's riding his hobby consistently. But he'll come down. So you've
+had no news from Benito?"</p>
+<p>"No," said Inez gloomily. "Perhaps it is too soon. Perhaps he
+has had no luck to tell us of as yet. But I wish he would write
+just a line."</p>
+<p>"Well, well, cheer up, my dear," said Brannan, reassuringly.
+"Benito can take care of himself. Next week I return to my store in
+the gold lands, and I'll have an eye out for the lad. How does your
+work go, Adrian?"</p>
+<p>"Poorly," answered Stanley. "Labor's too high to make money.
+Why, the common laborers who were satisfied with a dollar a day,
+now ask ten, and mechanics twenty. Even the Indians and the
+immigrants learn at once the crazy price of service."</p>
+<p>"San Francisco. Port o' Gold!" apostrophized the Mormon gaily.
+He went on his way with a friendly wave of the hand. His steps were
+bent toward Alcalde Hyde's headquarters. Hyde had made many enemies
+by his set, opinionated ways. There was talk of putting Rev.
+Thaddeus Leavenworth in his place. But Brannan was by no means
+certain this would solve the problem. He missed Leidesdorff sadly.
+The latter's sudden death had left a serious hiatus. He was used to
+talking problems over with the genial, hospitable Dane, whose
+counsel was always placid, well considered.</p>
+<p>Congress had failed to provide a government for California. San
+Francisco grumbled; more than all other towns she needed law.
+Stevenson's regiment had been disbanded; its many irresponsibles,
+held previously in check by military discipline, now indulged their
+bent for lawlessness, unstinted. Everything was confusion.
+Gold-dust was the legal tender, but its value was unfixed. The
+government accepted it at $10 per ounce, with the privilege of
+redemption in coin.</p>
+<p>The problem of land grants was becoming serious. There were more
+than hints of the alcalde's speculation; of illegal favors shown to
+friends, undue restrictions placed on others. Brannan shook his
+head as he climbed Washington street hill toward the alcalde's
+office. In the plaza stood a few mangy horses, too decrepit for
+sale to gold seekers. Gambling houses and saloons ringed the square
+and from these proceeded drunken shouts, an incessant click of
+poker chips; now and then a burst of song.</p>
+<p>The sound of a shot swung him swiftly about. It came from the
+door of a noisy and crowded mart of chance recently erected, but
+already the scene of many quarrels. The blare of music which had
+issued from it swiftly ceased. There was a momentary silence; then
+a sound of shuffling feet, of whispering voices.</p>
+<p>A man ran out into the street as if the devil were after him;
+another followed, staggering, a pistol in his hand. He fired one
+shot and then collapsed with horrid suddenness at Brannan's feet.
+The other man ran into Portsmouth Square, vaulted to the saddle of
+a horse and spurred furiously away.</p>
+<p>Brannan stooped over the fallen figure. It was that of a brawny,
+bearded man, red-shirted, booted, evidently a miner. That he was
+mortally wounded his gazing eyes gave evidence. Yet such was his
+immense vitality that he muttered, clutching at his throat--staving
+off dissolution with the mighty passionate vehemence of some
+dominating purpose. Brannan bent to listen.</p>
+<p>"Write," he gasped, and Brannan, with an understanding nod,
+obeyed. "I bequeath my claim ... south fork ... American River ...
+fifty feet from end of Lone Pine's shadow ... sunset ... to my pard
+... Benito Wind--" His voice broke, but his eyes watched Brannan's
+movements as the latter wrote. Dying hands grasped paper, pencil
+... signed a scrawling signature, "Joe Burthen." Then the head
+dropped back, rolled for a moment and lay still.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
+<h3>NEWS OF BENITO</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Brannan turned from contemplation of the dead to find himself
+surrounded by a curious, questioning group. A bartender, coatless,
+red-faced, grasping in one hand a heavy bung-starter as if it were
+a weapon of defense; a gambler, sleeves rolled up, five cards
+clutched in nervous fingers; half a dozen sailors, vaqueros, a
+ragged miner or two and several shortskirted young women of the
+class that had recently drifted into the hectic night-life of San
+Francisco. All were whispering excitedly. Some of the men, with a
+show of reverence, removed their hats.</p>
+<p>"Do you know who did this?" Brannan asked.</p>
+<p>"I saw it," cried one of the women. She was dressed as a Spanish
+dancer and in one hand held a tambourine and castanets. "They
+fight," she gave a little smirk of vanity, "about me."</p>
+<p>Brannan recognized her as Rosa Terranza, better known as
+Ensenada Rose. She had been the cause of many rivalries and
+quarrels.</p>
+<p>"Dandy" Carter, the gambler, let down his sleeves and thrust the
+cards into his pocket.</p>
+<p>"Rose was dealin' faro," he explained, "and this galoot here
+bucks the game.... He lose. You un'erstan'. He lose a lot o' dust
+... as much as forty ounces. Then--just like that--he stops." The
+gambler snapped his fingers. "He says, 'My little gal; my partner!
+God Almighty! I'm a-wrongin' them!' He starts to go, but Rose acts
+mighty sympathetic and he tells her all about the kid."</p>
+<p>"Hees little girl," the dancer finished. "I say we dreenk her
+health together, and he tell me of the senorita. He draw a picture
+of his claim with trees and river and a mountain--ver' fine, like
+an artist. And he say, 'You come and marry me and be a mother to my
+child'." She laughed grimly. "He was ver' much drunk ... and
+then--"</p>
+<p>"That Sydney Duck comes in," said Dandy Carter. "He sits down at
+the table with 'em. They begins to quarrel over Rose. And the fust
+I knows there was a gun went off; the girl yells and the other man
+vamooses, with this feller staggerin' after."</p>
+<p>"He shot from under the table," a sailor volunteered. "'Twas
+murder. Where I come from they'd a-hanged him for't."</p>
+<p>"But who was he?" Brannan asked the question in another form.
+The girl and Dandy Carter looked at one another, furtively.
+"I--don't know his name," the girl said, finally.</p>
+<p>"Don't any of you?" Brannan's tone was searching. But it brought
+no answer. Several shook their heads. Ensenada Rose shivered. "It's
+cold. I go back in," she said, and turned from them. Brannan
+stopped her with a sudden gesture. "Wait," he ordered. "Where's the
+map ... the paper this man showed you ... of his mine?"</p>
+<p>Ensenada Rose's eyes looked into Brannan's, with a note of
+challenge her chin went up. "Quien sabe?" she retorted. Brannan
+watched the slender, graceful figure vanish through the lighted
+door. In her trail the gambler and bartender followed. Presently a
+burst of music issued from the groggery; a tap-tap-tap of feet in
+rhythm to the click of castanets. Already the tragedy was
+forgotten. Brannan found himself face to face with the sailor.
+"I'll help you carry him--somewhere," he said. He raised the dead
+man's shoulders from the ground, and Brannan, following his
+suggestion, took the other end of the grim burden, which they bore
+to the City Hotel. Brannan, in the presence of Alcalde Hyde,
+searched Burthen's clothing for the plan which Rosa had described.
+But they did not find it; only a buckskin bag with a few grains of
+gold-dust at the bottom, a jackknife, a plug of tobacco, a
+scratched daguerreotype of a young girl with corkscrew curls and
+friendly eyes.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Next evening Nathan Spear chanced in to see the Stanleys. "Sam
+Brannan's gone," he told them. "Said he'd let you know about
+Benito. And here's a letter from Alcalde Colton of Monterey--who's
+at the gold-fields now."</p>
+<p>"Has he seen my brother?" Inez questioned, eagerly.</p>
+<p>Spear began to read: "Young Benito Windham has been near here
+for a fortnight. I am told, without much luck, He had to sell his
+horse and saddle, for the price of living is enormous; finally he
+paired off with a man named Burthen--strapping, bearded Kansan with
+a little daughter, about 17. They struck a claim, and Burthen's on
+the way to San Francisco for supplies. I'll tell you more when I
+have seen the lad and had a talk with him. The girl, I understand,
+was keeping house for them. A pretty, wistful little thing, they
+tell me, so I'd better keep an eye on Friend Benito."</p>
+<p>"Have you seen this Burthen? Is he here?" asked Stanley.</p>
+<p>"He was robbed--and killed last night at the Eldorado."</p>
+<p>"Sanctissima!" cried the girl, and crossed herself. "Then the
+little one's an orphan. And Benito--"</p>
+<p>"Her guardian, no doubt."</p>
+<p>Spear laughed. "He writes that a miner gave $24 in gold-dust for
+a box of seidlitz powders; another paid a dollar a drop for
+laudanum to cure his toothache. Flour is $400 per barrel, whisky
+$20 for a quart bottle, and sugar $4 a pound. 'It's a mad world, my
+masters,' as Shakespeare puts it, but a golden one. By and by this
+wealth will flow into your coffers down in San Francisco. Just now
+there is little disturbance, but it is bound to come. Several
+robberies and shootings have already taken place. There is one man
+whom I'd call an evil genius--a gambler, a handsome ruffian and a
+dead shot, so they tell me. It's rumored that he has a fancy for
+the little Burthen girl. Lord save her! Perhaps you know the
+rascal, for he hails, I understand, from San Francisco, one
+Alexander McTurpin."</p>
+<p>The three surveyed each other in a startled silence.</p>
+<p>"Benito and he are sure to quarrel," Inez whispered. "Madre
+Dolores! What can we do?"</p>
+<p>"Perhaps I'd better run up to the mines," said Adrian. "I've my
+own affair, you know, to settle with this fellow."</p>
+<p>"No, no, you must not," cried his wife in quick alarm.</p>
+<p>Spear smiled. "I wouldn't fret," he spoke assuringly. "Sam's
+gone up to see this fellow ... on a little business of his
+own."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2>
+<h3>THE VEILED WOMAN</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Several months went by with no news from Benito. James Burthen
+had been buried in the little graveyard on a hill overlooking the
+bay. And that ended the matter in so far as San Francisco was
+concerned.</p>
+<p>In the Alta California, a consolidation of two rival papers,
+appeared a brief notice chronicling the death of an unidentified
+miner, whose assassin, also nameless, had escaped. Ensenada Rose,
+described as an exotic female of dubious antecedents and still more
+suspicious motives, had left the Eldorado on the morning after the
+shooting "for parts unknown." She was believed to hold some "key to
+the tragic mystery which it was not her purpose to reveal."</p>
+<p>But killings were becoming too familiar in the growing town to
+excite much comment. San Francisco's population had quadrupled in
+the past half year and men were streaming in by the hundreds from
+all quarters of the globe. Flimsy bunk-houses were hastily erected,
+springing up as if by magic overnight. Men stood in long lines for
+a chance at these sorry accommodations and the often sorrier meals
+which a score of enterprising culinary novices served at prices
+from one dollar up. Lodging was $30 per month and at this price men
+slept on naked boards like sailors in a forecastle, one above the
+other. Often half a dozen pairs of blankets served a hundred
+sleepers. For as soon as a guest of these palatial hostelries began
+to snore the enterprising landlord stripped his body of its
+covering and served it to a later arrival.</p>
+<p>"If the town grows much faster it will be a tragedy," remarked
+Adrian to James Lick that afternoon. Lick had bought a city lot at
+Montgomery and Jackson streets and had already sold a portion of it
+for $30,000. He was a believer in San Francisco's future, and at
+San Jose his flour mill, once contemptuously called "Lick's folly,"
+was grinding grain which at present prices brought almost its
+weight in gold.</p>
+<p>"Things always right themselves, my boy," he said. "Don't worry.
+Keep pegging away at your sand lots. Some day you'll be a
+millionaire."</p>
+<p>"But half of these people are homeless. And every day they come
+faster. In our neighborhood are a dozen ramshackle tents where
+these poor devils keep 'bachelors' hall' with little more than a
+skillet and a coffee pot. They call it 'ranching.'" He laughed.
+"What would our old land barons have thought of a rancho four by
+six feet, which the first of our trade winds will blow into the
+bay?"</p>
+<p>"The Lord," said Lick, devoutly, "tempers the wind to the shorn
+lamb. And also to the homeless squatter on our sandy shores."</p>
+<p>"I hope you're right," responded Stanley. "It does me good to
+hear someone speak of God in this godless place. It is full of
+thieves and cut-throats; they've a settlement at the base of the
+hill overlooking Clark's Point. No man's life is safe, they tell
+me, over there."</p>
+<p>Lick frowned. "They call it Sydney Town because so many
+Australian convicts have settled in it. Some day we'll form a
+citizens' committee and run them off."</p>
+<p>"Which reminds me," Lick retorted, "that McTurpin came to town
+this morning. With a veiled woman ... or girl. She looks little
+more than a child."</p>
+<p>Adrian surveyed the other, startled. "Child?" His mind was full
+of vague suspicions.</p>
+<p>"Well, she didn't weigh more than a hundred. Yes, they
+came--both on one horse, and the fellow's companion none too well
+pleased, I should say. Frightened, perhaps, though why she should
+be is a puzzle." Lick shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+<p>"Has he taken the girl to his--the ranch?" asked Adrian.</p>
+<p>"Don't know. I reckon not," Lick answered. "They ate at the City
+Hotel. He'd a bag full of dust, so he'll gamble and guzzle till
+morning most likely." He regarded his friend keenly, a trifle
+uneasily. "Come, Adrian ... I'll walk past your door with you."</p>
+<p>"I'm not going home just yet, thanks," Stanley's tone was
+nervously evasive.</p>
+<p>"Well, good-night, then," said the other with reluctance. He
+turned south on Kearny street toward his home. Stanley, looking
+after him, stood for a moment as if undetermined. Then he took his
+way across the Plaza toward the City Hotel.</p>
+<p>In the bar, a long and low-ceiling room, talk buzzed and smoke
+from many pipes made a bluish, acrid fog through which, Adrian,
+standing in the doorway, saw, imperfectly, a long line of men at
+the bar. Others sat at tables playing poker and drinking
+incessantly, men in red-flannel shirts, blue denim trousers tucked
+into high, wrinkled boots. They wore wide-brimmed hats, and cursed
+or spat with a fervor and vehemence that indicated enjoyment.
+Adrian presently made out the stocky form of McTurpin, glass
+upraised. Before him on the bar were a fat buckskin bag and a
+bottle. He was boasting of his luck at the mines.</p>
+<p>A companion "hefted" the treasure admiringly. "Did you make it
+gamblin', Alec?" he inquired.</p>
+<p>"No, by Harry!" said the other, tartly. "I'm no gambler any
+more. I'm a respectable gentleman with a mine and a ranch," he
+emptied his glass and, smacking his lips, continued, "and a
+beautiful young girl that loves me ... loves me. Understand?" His
+hand came down upon the other's shoulder with a sounding whack.</p>
+<p>"Where is she?" asked the other, coaxingly. "You're a cunning
+hombre, Alec. Leave us have a look at her, I say."</p>
+<p>"Bye and bye," McTurpin spoke more cautiously. "Bye and bye ...
+then you can be a witness to the marriage, Dave." He drew the
+second man aside across the room, so near to Adrian that the latter
+stepped back to avoid discovery.</p>
+<p>"She's a respectable lass," he heard McTurpin whisper. "Yes,
+it's marry or nothing with her ... and I'm willing enough, the Lord
+knows. Can ye find me a preacher, old fellow?"</p>
+<p>He could not make out the other's reply. Their voices died down
+to an imperceptible whisper as they moved farther away. Stanley
+thought they argued over something. Then the man called Dave passed
+him and went swiftly up the hill.</p>
+<p>Vaguely troubled, Stanley returned to the veranda. It was
+unoccupied for chilly evening breezes had driven the loungers
+indoors. Absently he paced the creaking boards and, having reached
+a corner of the building, continued his promenade along what seemed
+to be the rear of the building. Here a line of doors opened on the
+veranda like the upper staterooms of a ship.</p>
+<p>Why should he trouble his mind about McTurpin and a paramour?
+thought Adrian. Yet his thought was curiously disturbed. Something
+Spear had read from a letter vexed him dimly like a memory
+imperfectly recalled. What was there about McTurpin and a child?
+Whose child? And what had it to do with the veiled woman who had
+ridden with the gambler from the mines. Impishly the facts eluded
+him. Inez would know. But Inez must not be bothered just now--at
+this time.</p>
+<p>He paused and listened. Was that a woman sobbing? Of course not.
+Only his nerves, his silly sentiment. He would go home and forget
+the whole thing.</p>
+<p>There it was again. This time he could not be mistaken.
+Noiselessly he made his way toward the sound. It stopped. But
+presently it came again. From where? Ah, yes, the window with a
+broken pane.</p>
+<p>Soft, heartbroken, smothered wailing. Spasms of it. Then an
+interlude of silence. Adrian's heart beat rapidly. He tip-toed to
+the window, tried the door beside it. Locked. After a moment's
+hesitation he spoke, softly: "Is someone in trouble?"</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2>
+<h3>A CALL IN THE NIGHT</h3>
+<br>
+<p>There was no answer. For a second time Adrian's mind fought a
+belief that sense had tricked him. Now and then a shout from the
+bar-room reached him as he waited, listening. The wind whistled
+eerily through the scant-leaved scrub-oaks on the slopes above.</p>
+<p>But from the room at the window of which he listened there came
+no sound.</p>
+<p>Adrian felt like one hoaxed, made ridiculous by his own
+sentimentality. He strode on. But when he reached the farther
+corner some involuntary impulse turned him back. And again the
+sound of muffled sobbing came to him from the open window--fainter
+now, as though an effort had been made to stifle it.</p>
+<p>Once more he spoke: "I say, what's the trouble in there? Can I
+help?"</p>
+<p>Almost instantly a face appeared against the pane--a
+tear-stained face, terrified and shrinking.</p>
+<p>"Oh!" said a voice unsteady with weeping. "Oh! sir, if there is
+a heart in your breast you will help me to escape--to find my
+father."</p>
+<p>Her tone, despite agitation, was that of extreme youth. She was
+not of the class that frequent gambling halls. Both her dress and
+her manner proclaimed that. Adrian was perplexed. "Are you--" he
+hesitated, fearing to impart offense, "are you the girl who came
+with McTurpin?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, yes," she spoke hurriedly. "He told me my father was ill.
+He promised to take me to him. Instead, he locked me in this room.
+He threatened--oh! he is a monster! Will you help me? Do you know
+my father, sir?"</p>
+<p>"What is his name?" asked Stanley.</p>
+<p>"Burthen, sir, James Burthen," she replied, and fell once more
+to sobbing helplessly. "Oh, if I were only out of here."</p>
+<p>Stanley pressed his weight against the door. He was thinking
+rapidly. So this was the daughter of Benito's partner--the murdered
+miner of the Eldorado tragedy. He recalled the letter from Colton;
+the hint of McTurpin's infatuation and its menace. Things became
+clear to him suddenly. The door gave as he pressed his knee against
+it. Presently the flimsy lock capitulated and he walked into the
+room. The girl shrank back against the farther wall at his
+approach.</p>
+<p>"Oh, come," he said, a trifle testily, "I'm not going to hurt
+you. Get on your hat. I'll see you're taken care of. I'll place you
+in charge of my wife."</p>
+<p>"And my father," she begged. "You'll take me to him?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, yes, your father," he agreed in haste. "But first you'll
+come home with me."</p>
+<p>She snatched up a hat and shawl from the commode, and, with
+hurried movements rearranged her hair; then she followed him
+submissively into the gathering dusk, shrinking close as if to
+efface herself whenever they passed anyone. The streets were full
+of men now, mostly bound from hotels, lodging houses and tents to
+the Eldorado and kindred resorts. Many of them ogled her curiously,
+for a female figure was a rarity in nocturnal San Francisco.</p>
+<p>They passed dimly lighted tents in which dark figures bulked
+grotesquely against canvas walls. In one a man seemed to be dancing
+with a large animal which Stanley told her was a grizzly bear.</p>
+<p>"They have many queer pets," he said. "One of my neighbors keeps
+a pet coon, and in another tent there are a bay horse, two dogs,
+two sheep and a pair of goats. They sleep with their master like a
+happy family."</p>
+<p>"It is all so strange," said the girl, faintly. "In the East my
+father was a lawyer; we had a good house and a carriage; everything
+was so different from--this. But after my mother died, he grew
+restless. He sold everything and came to this rough, wild country.
+None of his old friends would know him now, with his beard, his
+boots and the horrible red flannel shirt."</p>
+<p>Adrian made no reply. He was thinking of the tragic news which
+must ere long be told to Burthen's daughter. For a time they strode
+along in silence--until Stanley paused before an open door. Against
+the inner light which streamed through it into the darkness of the
+street a woman's figure was outlined.</p>
+<p>"Well, here we are, at last," said Adrian. "And my wife's in the
+doorway waiting to scold me for being so late."</p>
+<p>Inez ran to meet him. "I have been anxious," she declared. She
+noted her husband's companion, and stepped back, startled. "Adrian,
+who is this?"</p>
+<p>"A daughter of the mur----" Adrian began. He broke the telltale
+word in two: "Of James Burthen--Benito's partner."</p>
+<p>"Ah, then you know my brother," Inez hailed her eagerly. She
+took the girl's hands in her own and pressed them. "You must tell
+us all about him--quickly. We have waited long for news."</p>
+<p>"You are--Mr. Windham's sister?" cried the girl almost
+incredulously. Then, with a swift abandonment to emotion she threw
+her arms about the elder woman's neck and sobbed.</p>
+<p>Stanley followed them into the house. He saw Inez supporting her
+companion, soothing her in those mysterious ways which only women
+know. His mind was stirred with grave perplexities.</p>
+<p>A peremptory knock aroused him from his cogitations. Could it be
+the gambler so soon? He thought there were voices. Several men, no
+doubt.</p>
+<p>Inez called out in a whisper, "Who is there?"</p>
+<p>"Go back," her husband ordered. "It's all right, dear. They're
+friends of mine."</p>
+<p>Inez came out quickly and stood beside him, looking up into his
+face. "You're sure? There's no--no danger?"</p>
+<p>Again the rat-tat-tat upon the panel, more peremptory than
+before. Stanley forced a laugh. "Danger! Why, of course not. Just a
+business talk. But go back and look after the girl. I don't want
+her coming out here while I've visitors." He patted her hand. His
+arm about her shoulder he ushered her across the threshold of the
+inner chamber and closed the door. Then he extinguished the lamp.
+Hand on pistol he felt his way toward the outer portal and, with a
+sudden movement flung it wide. Three men stood on the threshold.
+They seemed puzzled by the darkness. Out of it the host's voice
+spoke: "Who are you? What do you wish?"</p>
+<p>William Henry Brown was first to answer him. "We want you,
+Adrian, at the hotel. Can you come now--quickly?"</p>
+<p>"What for?" he asked suspiciously. "Who sent you here?"</p>
+<p>"Nobody," came the cheery voice of Dr. Jones. "There's a friend
+of yours at Brown's who needs you."</p>
+<p>"You mean--McTurpin?</p>
+<p>"Damn McTurpin!" spoke the third voice. It was Nathan Spear's.
+"Light your lamp. Nobody's going to shoot you, Stanley.... It's
+young Benito from the mines and down with fever. He's calling for
+you ... and for a girl named Alice.... If you can pacify him--that
+will help a lot. He's pretty low."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2>
+<h3>OUTFACING THE ENEMY</h3>
+<br>
+<p>"Wait," said Adrian, hurriedly. He relighted the lamp and, going
+to the inner door, called softly. There was an agitated rustle;
+then the door swung back and Stanley saw the figure of his wife,
+beside whom stood the light-haired girl.</p>
+<p>"What is it, Adrian?"</p>
+<p>"There's someone sick at Brown's Hotel," said Adrian, "a friend
+of mine. I'm going over there." He made a sign imposing silence on
+the men.</p>
+<p>Inez came close. "You're certain it's no trick," she whispered,
+"it's not McTurpin's scheme to--"</p>
+<p>"No, no," he assured her hastily. "I'm sure of that." He seized
+his hat and coat. "Put down the window shades and answer no one's
+knock till I return." He kissed her and without more ado joined the
+men outside. He heard the door shut and lock click into place.</p>
+<p>For a time the quartette strode along in silence; then Brown
+spoke, as if the thought had been long on his lips, "Wasn't
+that--the girl McTurpin brought to town?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," said Adrian tersely, "it was she."</p>
+<p>Brown made no immediate response; he seemed to be digesting
+Adrian's remark. Finally he burst out, "If it's any of my business,
+what's she doing--there?"</p>
+<p>"She asked for help," retorted Stanley. He related the incident
+of the veranda. Spear laughed meaningly. "That's the second one
+you've taken from McTurpin; he'll be loving you a heap, old
+man."</p>
+<p>"He doesn't know it yet," Brown said. "But keep out of his way
+tomorrow."</p>
+<p>Stanley's teeth met with a little click. "When I've seen Benito,
+Alec McTurpin and I will have a showdown. But tell me of the boy.
+What brought him here?"</p>
+<p>"The missing girl, of course," said Dr. James. "He's daft about
+her. Alice Burthen ... that's her name, isn't it?"</p>
+<p>Stanley was about to make some rejoinder when they passed two
+men, one of whom looked at them curiously. He was McTurpin's
+companion of the bar-room episode. "Who's that?" asked Spear as
+Brown saluted the pair.</p>
+<p>"That's Reverend Wheeler, the new Baptist parson."</p>
+<p>"Yes, yes, I know. But the other one?"</p>
+<p>"Ned Gasket ... he's a friend of Dandy Carter's at the
+Eldorado."</p>
+<p>"And a Sydney Duck, I guess," the doctor added.</p>
+<p>"Do your own guessing, friend," said Brown, impatiently.</p>
+<p>Spear sighed. "We'll have to do more than guess about that
+stripe of citizen if we want law and order. It will take a rope I
+fear," he finished grimly.</p>
+<p>Brown led them round the back to a room not far from the one
+which had held Alice Burthen.</p>
+<p>"It's quieter here," he explained. "They get noisy sometimes
+along about midnight." He opened the door and struck a sulphur
+match by whose weird flicker they made out a bed with a tossing
+figure upon it. Adrian crossed over and took the nervous clutching
+hands within his own firm clasp.</p>
+<p>"Benito," he said. "Don't you know me? It's Adrian!"</p>
+<p>Brown with a lighted lamp came nearer, so that Stanley saw the
+sufferer's eyes. They were incognizant of realities. The murmuring
+voice droned on, fretfully, "I've looked for her everywhere. She's
+gone! gone!"</p>
+<p>Suddenly he cried out: "Alice! Alice!" half rising. But he
+tumbled back upon the pillow with a swift collapse of weakness and
+his words waned into mumbled incoherence.</p>
+<p>"Benito," Adrian addressed him earnestly, "Alice is with me.
+With me and Inez. She's safe. I'll bring her to you in the morning.
+Do you understand?"</p>
+<p>"With you--with Inez?" the sick man repeated. "Then tell her to
+come. I want her. Tell Alice to come--"</p>
+<p>"Tomorrow," Dr. Jones said, soothingly, "when you've had a
+chance to rest."</p>
+<p>"No, tonight," the fevered eyes stared up at them imploringly.
+Jones drew Adrian aside. "Pretend you'll do it or hell wear himself
+out. Then go. I'll give him something that will make him sleep." He
+emptied a powder in a tumbler of water and held it out to the sick
+man. "Drink this," he ordered, "it'll give you strength to see Miss
+Burthen."</p>
+<p>Benito's lips obediently quaffed the drink. His head lay quieter
+upon the pillow. Slowly, as they watched, the eyelids closed.</p>
+<p>"And now," said Adrian when he had assured himself that Benito
+slept, "I'm going for McTurpin."</p>
+<p>"Don't be a confounded fool," Dr. Jones said quickly.</p>
+<p>But Stanley paid no heed. He went directly into the saloon and
+looked about him. At a table, back toward him, sat a stocky figure,
+playing cards and reaching for the rum container at his side.
+Adrian stood a moment, musing; then his right hand slid down to his
+hip; a forward stride and the left hand fell on the player's
+shoulder.</p>
+<p>"We meet once more, McTurpin."</p>
+<p>The gambler rose so suddenly that the stool on which he sat
+rolled over. His face was red with wine and rage. His fingers moved
+toward an inner pocket.</p>
+<p>"Don't," said Adrian meaningly. The hand fell back.</p>
+<p>"What do you want?" the gambler growled.</p>
+<p>"A quiet talk, my friend. Come with me."</p>
+<p>"And, suppose I refuse?" the other sneered.</p>
+<p>"Oh, if you're afraid--" began Adrian.</p>
+<p>McTurpin threw his cards upon the table. Between him and a man
+across the board flashed a swift, unspoken message. "I'm at your
+service, Mr.--ah--Stanley."</p>
+<p>He led the way out, and Adrian following, gave a quick glance
+backward, noting that the man across the table had arisen. What he
+did not see was that Spear hovered in the offing, following them
+with watchful eyes.</p>
+<p>Toward the north they strolled, past a huddle of tents, for the
+most part unlighted. From some came snores and through many a
+windblown flap, the searching moonlight revealed sleeping figures.
+On a waste of sand-dunes McTurpin paused.</p>
+<p>"Now tell me what ye want," he snarled, "and be damned quick
+about it. I've small time to waste with meddlers."</p>
+<p>"On this occasion," Stanley said, "you'll take the time to note
+the following facts, Mr. McTurpin, Mr. Pillsworth--or whatever your
+true name may be--I've had a talk with Dandy Carter. He recognized
+you and Gasket when Burthen was killed, in spite of your beard. So
+did Rosa, of course, though she skipped the next morning. The
+Burthen girl is at my house." He paused an instant, thinking that
+he heard a movement in a bush nearby. "Well, that's all," he
+finished, "except this: If I find you here tomorrow, Alec McTurpin,
+murderer, card-sharp and abductor, I'll shoot you down like a
+dog."</p>
+<p>And then, with a splendid piece of bravery, he turned his back
+on the gambler, walking away with never a backward glance. He did
+not go directly home, but walked for an indeterminate interval till
+his spirit was more calm.</p>
+<p>The house was dark. Inez had obeyed him by leaving no trace of
+light. Doubtless by now they had retired. Suddenly he started,
+peered more closely at the door he was about to enter.</p>
+<p>It was slightly ajar. On the threshold, as he threw it open,
+Adrian found a lace-edged handkerchief. His wife's.</p>
+<p>Filled with quick foreboding, he called her name. His voice
+sounded hollow, strange, as if an empty house. Tremblingly he
+struck a light and searched the inner room. The bed had not been
+slept in. There was no one to be seen.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2>
+<h3>SHOTS IN THE DARK</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Frantically Adrian ran out into the darkness, crying his wife's
+name. His thought went, with swift apprehension, over the events of
+recent hours. The villainous face of Ned Gasket passed before his
+memory mockingly; the meaning look McTurpin gave his henchman at
+the gaming table. Finally, with double force, that movement in the
+bushes as he told the gambler of his former captive's whereabouts.
+By what absurd imprudence had he laid himself thus open to the
+scoundrel's swift attack? What farther whimsy of an unkind Fate had
+prompted his long walk?</p>
+<p>Sudden fury flamed in Stanley's heart; it steadied him. The
+twitching fingers on the pistol in his pocket relaxed into a calm
+and settled tension. With long strides he made his way toward
+Brown's hotel.</p>
+<p>There was death in his eyes; men who caught their gleam beneath
+a lamplight, hastily avoided him. That Inez--at this time--should
+have been taken from her home, abducted, frightened or harassed,
+was the sin unpardonable. For it he meant to exact a capital
+punishment. The law, just then, meant to him nothing; only the
+primitive instinct of an outraged man controlled his mind.</p>
+<p>At the bar he paused. "Where's McTurpin, where's Gasket?" he
+demanded, harshly.</p>
+<p>The bartender observed him with suspicion and uneasiness. "Don't
+know. Haven't seen 'em since they started out with you," he
+answered.</p>
+<p>Stanley left the room without another word.</p>
+<p>He struck across the Plaza, entering the Eldorado gambling
+house. There he ordered a drink, gulped it, made, more quietly, a
+survey of the room. He scanned the players carefully. Spear sat at
+one of the tables, toying with a pile of chips and stroking his
+chin reflectively as he surveyed three cards.</p>
+<p>"Give me two. Hello, there, Adrian. Good Lord! what's up?"</p>
+<p>"Have you seen McTurpin or his friend, Ned Gasket?" He tried to
+speak quietly.</p>
+<p>A miner at another table leaned forward. "Try the stalls, pard,"
+he whispered, while his left eyelid descended meaningly.</p>
+<p>"Wait," cried Spear and laid his cards down hastily. But Adrian
+was already on his way. At the rear were half a dozen small
+compartments where visitors might drink in semi-privacy with women
+who frequented the place.</p>
+<p>Adrian made the round of them, flinging aside each curtain as he
+went. Some greeted him with curses for intruding; some with
+invitations. But he did not find the men he sought, until the last
+curtain was thrown back. There sat Gasket and McTurpin opposite
+Ensenada Rose. She looked up impudently as Adrian entered. Into the
+gambler's visage sprang a quick surprise and fear. Instantly he
+blew out the lamp.</p>
+<p>A pistol spoke savagely almost in Adrian's face. He staggered,
+clasping one hand to his head. Something warm ran down his cheek
+and the side of his neck. He felt giddy, stunned. But a dominant
+impulse jerked his own revolver into position and he shot twice--as
+rapidly as he could operate the weapon. The narrow space was
+chokingly filled with acrid vapor. Somewhere a woman screamed; then
+came a rush of feet.</p>
+<p>It seemed to Adrian he had stood for hours in a kind of stupor
+when a light was brought. Gasket lay, his head bowed over on the
+table and an arm flung forward. He was dead. On the floor was a
+lace mantilla.</p>
+<p>Spear reached Adrian's side ahead of the others. "I heard him
+shoot first," he said, so that all might hear him. "Are you
+hit?"</p>
+<p>Adrian's hand went once more to his cheek. "Just a furrow," he
+said and smiled a trifle dazedly. "He fired straight into my
+face."</p>
+<p>"By Harry! He must have. Your cheek's powder-marked," cried
+Brannan, running up and holding the lamp for a better view. "See
+that, gentlemen? They tried to murder Mr. Stanley. This is
+self-defense. Who fired at you?"</p>
+<p>"This fellow!" Adrian indicated the sprawled figure. "Must have
+been. I shot at the flash from his gun; then I aimed at McTurpin. I
+missed him, probably."</p>
+<p>"Not so sure of that," said Brown, who had come running from his
+hostelry across the square. "Look, here's blood on the floor. A
+trail--let's follow it. Either McTurpin or the woman was hit."</p>
+<p>"I tried to avoid her," Adrian said. "I--hope I didn't--"</p>
+<p>"Never mind. You were attacked. They're all of a parcel," cried
+a man who wore the badge of a constable. "We've had our eyes on the
+three of them a long time. This fellow," he indicated Gasket, "was
+one of the crowd suspected of the Warren murders. He's the one who
+killed old Burthen. Dandy Carter let it out tonight; he's half
+delirious. We'd have strung him up most probably, if you
+hadn't--"</p>
+<p>"Come," urged Brannan, "let us follow this trail to the wounded.
+Perhaps he or she needs assistance." He held the lamp low, tracing
+the dark spots across an intervening space to the rear entrance;
+thence to a hitching rack where several horses still were tethered.
+"They mounted here," the constable decided. "One horse probably. No
+telling which it was that got the bullet."</p>
+<p>Adrian was conscious, suddenly, that his hand still held the
+pistol. He flung it from him with a gesture of repulsion.</p>
+<p>"My wife!" he said faintly, "Inez!"</p>
+<p>"What d'ye mean?" asked Spear.</p>
+<p>"Talk up, man. What's wrong?"</p>
+<p>"She's gone--abducted," Stanley answered. "Who'll lend me a
+horse. I must find McTurpin. He knows--"</p>
+<p>Unexpectedly Spear complicated matters. "You're mistaken,
+Stanley. I followed when you and he took your walk together. I
+suspected treachery--when Gasket sneaked along behind. I had
+McTurpin covered when you turned your back on him. He came here
+after that. Both of them have been here all the evening."</p>
+<p>Stanley put his hand to his head with a bewildered gesture.</p>
+<p>"Good God! Then where--? What has become of them?"</p>
+<p>"Maybe they got wind of Benito's presence. Maybe they're with
+him. Let's see."</p>
+<p>They hurried back to the City Hotel.</p>
+<p>"The room's dark," Spear lighted a taper and they softly opened
+the door. Benito slept; beside him drowsed a red-shirted miner
+slumped upon a chair. Adrian shook him, whispering, "Where's Doctor
+Jones?"</p>
+<p>"Don't know," muttered the watcher, sleepily. "This yere is his
+busy night I reckon. Asked me to look after this galoot. Feed him
+four fingers of that pizen if he woke."</p>
+<p>His head drooped forward and a buzzing sound came from his open
+mouth. Once more Adrian shook him.</p>
+<p>"Didn't he say anything about his destination?"</p>
+<p>"His which, pard?"</p>
+<p>"Where he was bound," the young man said half angrily.</p>
+<p>This time the other sat up straighter. For the first time he
+really awoke and took intelligent cognizance of the situation.</p>
+<p>"Now I come to think on it, he's bound for the hill over yonder.
+Woman named Briones come for him at a double quick. Good lookin'
+Spanish wench. She took him by the arm commandin' like. 'You come
+along,' she says and picks up his medicine chest. 'Don't stop for
+yer hat.' And he didn't." He winked heavily, chuckling at the
+reminiscence.</p>
+<p>"Then it isn't Juana Briones that's ill. Perhaps it's her
+husband."</p>
+<p>"Has she got a husband?" asked the miner, disappointedly. "No, I
+reckon 'twant him. 'Twas a woman name o' Stanley. I remember
+now--Goin' to have a bebby."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2>
+<h3>THE NEW ARRIVAL</h3>
+<br>
+<p>"Take my horse," said Brannan, hurriedly. "I'll stay here with
+Benito." He bundled the excited Stanley and Nathan Spear out of the
+room, where Benito still slept under the spell of the doctor's
+opiate. "You, too," he told the miner, "you've had too much red
+liquor to play the nurse." He closed the door after them.</p>
+<p>The young contractor spoke first. "By the eternal, I never
+thought of that! I'm glad she had a woman with her."</p>
+<p>He spurred his horse toward Telegraph, Hill, as it had begun to
+be known, since signals were flashed from its crest, announcing the
+arrival of vessels. Down its farther slope was the little rancho of
+Dona Briones, where Inez in her extremity had sought the good
+friend of her childhood.</p>
+<p>Adrian's thought leaped forward into coming years. Inez and he
+together, always together as the years passed. And between them a
+son--intuitively he felt that it would be a son--a successor,
+taking up their burdens as they laid them down; bearing their name,
+their ideals, purposes along, down the pageant of time.</p>
+<p>He paid little heed as they passed through a huddle of huts,
+tents and lean-tos on the southern ascent. Though the hour was
+late, many windows were light and sounds of revelry came dimly, as
+though muffled, from curtain-hid interiors. There was something
+furtive and ill-omened about this neighborhood which one sensed
+rather than perceived. Spear rode close and touched Adrian's
+arm.</p>
+<p>"Sydney town," he whispered, meaningly. "The hang-out of our
+convict citizens from Australia, those eastern toughs and
+plug-uglies of the Seventh regiment who came here to feather their
+nests. Do you know what they've done? Formed a society called The
+Hounds. Appropriate, isn't it? Your friend McTurpin's one of them.
+Thanks to you, they've lost a valued member."</p>
+<p>"Hounds?" said Adrian. His thought still forged ahead. "Oh, yes,
+I've heard about them. They are going to drive out the
+foreigners."</p>
+<p>"Loot them, more likely," Spear returned, disgustedly; "then us,
+if we don't look out. Mark my word, they'll give us trouble.
+Alcalde Leavenworth's too careless by half."</p>
+<p>Stanley, paying scant attention, suddenly leaned forward in his
+saddle. At one of the windows a curtain was drawn back; a woman's
+face appeared for a moment silhouetted against inner light; then as
+swiftly withdrew.</p>
+<p>"Who was that?" asked Adrian, involuntarily reining in his
+mount. "Not--"</p>
+<p>"Rosa Terranza," said Spear excitedly.</p>
+<p>They listened. From within the tent-house came a sound of hasty
+movements, whispering. The light winked out. A bolt was shot; then
+silence.</p>
+<p>"I'll bet, by Jupiter, McTurpin's there," cried Adrian.</p>
+<p>"And that he's hurt," Spear added. "What shall we do?"</p>
+<p>"Let them be," decided Stanley, clucking to his horse. "My
+duty's ahead." He took the steep pitch of the hillside almost at a
+gallop and soon they were descending again into that little
+settlement of waterside and slope called North Beach. Juana
+Briones' place had been its pioneer habitation. Her hospitable gate
+stood always invitingly open. Through the branches of a cypress
+lights could be seen. The front door stood ajar and about it were
+whispering women. Adrian's heart leaped. Was something amiss? He
+dismounted impetuously, throwing the reins to an Indian who had
+come out evidently to do them service. Spear followed as he rushed
+through the door. There stood Dona Briones, finger on lip,
+demanding silence. Her face was grave.</p>
+<p>"How--how is she? How is Inez?" Adrian stammered.</p>
+<p>"The doctor's with her. Everything will be all right, I think.
+But make no noise. Go in that room and sit down."</p>
+<p>Adrian threw up his hands. "My God, woman! How can I sit still
+when--when--?"</p>
+<p>"Walk up and down, then," said Juana, "but take off your
+shoes."</p>
+<p>Which Adrian finally did. It seemed to him that he had paced the
+tiny chamber a thousand times. He heard movements, voices in the
+next room; now and then his wife's moan and the elder woman's
+soothing accents. Then a silence which seemed century long, a
+silence fraught with unimaginable terror. It was broken by a new
+sound, high pitched, feeble, but distinct; the cry of a child.
+Helplessly Adrian subsided into a chair beside Nathan Spear. "Do
+you hear that?" he asked, mopping his forehead.</p>
+<p>"Yes, I heard it," said the other non-committally.</p>
+<p>"I can't stand this any longer," Adrian exclaimed. "I'm going in
+there. I--I've got to know--"</p>
+<p>He rose, determinedly, shaking off Spear's detaining arm. In the
+doorway stood Dr. Jones. Again came the tiny cry. "It's a boy,"
+said the medico, and held out his hand.</p>
+<p>But Adrian caught him by the shoulders. "My wife?" he asked.
+"How is she? Is there any--"</p>
+<p>"Danger? No, it's over," said the doctor. "Sit down and calm
+yourself."</p>
+<p>Adrian relaxed a trifle. Finally his set face softened; he
+laughed.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>It was the evening of July 14, 1849. Stanley stood over the
+cradle of his son, looking worshipfully down at the tiny sleeping
+face. Inez Stanley, busied with the varied tasks of motherhood,
+came and stood for a moment beside him. She voiced that platitude of
+wives and mothers in their pride: "He looks just like you,
+Adrian."</p>
+<p>Stanley put his hands upon her shoulders. "Got your mouth, your
+big eyes," he said, and kissed her.</p>
+<p>They were wont to quarrel tenderly over this. But tonight Inez
+looked seriously up at her husband. Suddenly she hid her face upon
+his shoulder.</p>
+<p>"If only--if only--" she whispered, "he wouldn't grow up. And we
+wouldn't grow old."</p>
+<p>Stanley's fingers on her hair stroked gently. "Life is life, my
+dear," he said at last. "Let us not question the inexorable too
+deeply. Yesterday is gone, you know. Tomorrow never comes.... And
+here we are together in the best town in the world. With love, good
+prospects ... our little Francisco--"</p>
+<p>"He will live to see a great city," said Inez, comforted. "He
+will help to make it." Her eyes were prophetic. The child stirred
+and hastily they withdrew, lowering the light so that his slumber
+might be undisturbed. A light tap sounded at the door and Adrian
+answered.</p>
+<p>Spear and Brannan with Benito stood upon the threshold. The
+latter entered, kissed his sister and was shown the sleeping child.
+"How is Alice?" Inez asked.</p>
+<p>"Well. And the best little wife in the world," Benito answered.
+His eyes glowed happily. "The tiny Francisco is growing like a
+weed. Only ten months old--"</p>
+<p>"Nine months, two weeks and three days," said his mother,
+glibly. "Won't you all come in and see the baby?" she invited.</p>
+<p>"No," Spear answered. "We must steal your husband for a' little
+while. There's business at the City Hall...."</p>
+<p>"Adrian's become a prominent citizen, you know," he added at her
+look of pouting protest.</p>
+<p>She brought her husband's hat. "Don't be long," she urged, and
+smiled a good-bye from the threshold. When he heard the door shut,
+Adrian turned on Brannan. "What's up?"</p>
+<p>"Plenty," said the other meaningly. "The Hounds have broken out.
+They looted Little Chili about dark tonight and one of them was
+shot. They threaten to burn the foreign quarter. They're arming.
+There's trouble afoot."</p>
+<p>"And what do you want of me?" Stanley questioned.</p>
+<p>"Damn it! Wake up, man!" cried Spear. "A citizens' committee.
+We're going to enforce the law--if it takes a rope."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2>
+<h3>THE CHAOS OF '49</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Inez and Alice were returning from church on Sunday, July 15
+when they encountered a strange, unsabbatical procession; a company
+of grim and tight-lipped citizens marching, rifles over shoulder
+toward the Bay. At their head was William Spofford. Midway of the
+parade were a dozen rough-appearing fellows, manacled and guarded.
+Among these Inez recognized Sam Roberts, gaunt and bearded leader
+of the hoodlum band known as The Hounds or Regulars. From Little
+Chili, further to the north and west, rose clouds of smoke; now and
+then a leaping tongue of flame.</p>
+<p>Presently Benito, musket at shoulder, came marching by and Inez
+plucked at his arm.</p>
+<p>"Can't stop now," he told her hurriedly. "We're taking these
+rogues to the sloop Warren. They're to be tried for arson and
+assault in the foreign quarter."</p>
+<p>"By the Eternal!" shouted a bystander enthusiastically. "We've
+got Law in San Francisco at last.... Hurrah for Bill Spofford and
+the Citizens' Committee."</p>
+<p>"There's Adrian," cried Inez as the rearguard of the pageant
+passed. "Isn't it fine? Alice, aren't you proud?"</p>
+<p>But Alice was a practical little body. "They'll be hungry when
+they come home," she averred. "Let us hurry back and get their
+dinner ready."</p>
+<br>
+<a name="page122.jpg"></a>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/page122.jpg" width="85%" alt=
+""><br>
+<b>Passersby who laughed at the inscription witnessed
+simultaneously the rescue of an almost-submerged donkey by means of
+an improvised derrick.</b></p>
+<br>
+<p>The affair of The Hounds was already past history when the
+gold-seekers, hunted from the heights by early snows, returned to
+San Francisco in great numbers. Sara Roberts and his evil band had
+been deported. Better government obtained but there were many other
+civic problems still unsolved. San Francisco, now a hectic, riotous
+metropolis of 25,000 inhabitants, was like a muddy Venice, for
+heavy rains had made its unpaved streets canals of oozy mud. At
+Clay and Kearny streets, in the heart of the business district,
+some wag had placed a placard reading:</p>
+<blockquote>THIS STREET IS IMPASSABLE<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;NOT EVEN JACKASSABLE</blockquote>
+<p>In which there was both truth and poetry. Passersby who laughed
+at the inscription witnessed simultaneously the rescue of an
+almost-submerged donkey by means of an improvised derrick.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Benito was showing his friend David Broderick, a recent arrival
+from New York, some of San Francisco's sights. "Everything is being
+used to bridge the crossings," said the former laughingly ...
+"stuff that came from those deserted ships out in the bay. Their
+masts are like a forest--hundreds of them."</p>
+<p>"You mean their crew deserted during the gold rush?" Broderick
+inquired.</p>
+<p>"Yes, even the skippers and officers in many cases.... See, here
+is a cargo of sieves with which some poor misguided trader
+overwhelmed the market. They make a fair crossing, planted in the
+mud. And there are stepping stones of tobacco boxes--never been
+opened, mind you--barrels of tainted pork and beef. On Montgomery
+street is a row of cook stoves which make a fine sidewalk, though,
+sometimes the mud covers them."</p>
+<p>"And what are those two brigs doing stranded in the mud?" asked
+Broderick.</p>
+<p>"Oh, those are the Euphemia and Apollo. They use the first one
+for a jail. That's Geary's scheme. He's full of business. And the
+second's a tavern.... Let's go up to the new post-office. Alice is
+always eager for a letter from her folks in Massachusetts."</p>
+<p>They made their way to the new wooden structure at Clay and Pike
+streets where several clerks were busily sorting the semi-weekly
+mail which had just arrived. Hundreds of people stood in long
+queues before each of the windows. "Get in line stranger," said a
+red-shirted man laughingly. "Only seventy-five ahead of us. I
+counted 'em.... Some have been in line since last night I'm told.
+They're up near the front and holding places for others ... getting
+$20 cash for their time."</p>
+<p>Broderick and Benito decided not to wait. They made another
+journey round the town, watching Chinese builders erecting long
+rows of habitations that had come in sections from Cathay.
+Everywhere was hasty, feverish construction--flimsy houses going up
+like mushrooms over night to meet the needs of San Francisco's
+swiftly augmenting populace.</p>
+<p>"It's like a house of cards," said Broderick, who had been a
+fireman in New York. "Lord help us if it ever starts to burn. Even
+our drinking water comes from Sausalito across the Bay."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2>
+<h3>RETRIEVING A BIRTHRIGHT</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Benito Windham stole from his dwelling, closing the door softly
+after him so Alice, his wife, might not wake. A faint rose dawn
+colored the Contra Costa ridge. From a few of the huts and larger
+buildings which sprinkled San Francisco's hills and hollows so
+haphazardly, curls of blue white wood smoke rose into the windless
+air. Here and there some belated roisterer staggered toward his
+habitation. But otherwise all was still, quicscent. San Francisco
+slept.</p>
+<p>It was the morning of December 24, 1849--the first Christmas eve
+following the gold rush. Windham, who had lain awake since
+midnight, pondered upon this and other things. Events had succeeded
+each other with such riotous activity of late that life seemed more
+like a dream than a reality. His turbulent months at the mines, his
+high preliminary hopes of fortune, their gradual waning to a slow
+despair; the advent of James Burthen and his daughter; then love,
+his partner's murder and the girl's abduction; his pursuit and
+illness. Alice's rescue and their marriage; his return to find the
+claim covered with snow; finally a clerical post in San
+Francisco.</p>
+<p>A sudden distaste for the feverish, riotous town assailed him--a
+longing for the peace and beauty of those broad paternal acres he
+had lost upon the gaming table wrenched his heart.</p>
+<p>He pictured Alice in the old rose patio, where his American
+father had wooed his Spanish mother.</p>
+<p>Involuntarily his steps turned eastward. At Sacramento and
+Leidesdorff streets he left solid ground to tread a four-foot board
+above the water, to the theoretical line of Sansome street; thence
+south upon a similar foothold to the solid ground of Bush street,
+where an immense sand-*hill with a hollow in its middle, like a
+crater, struck across the path. Some called this depression Thieves
+Hollow, for in it deserting sailors, ticket-of-leave men from
+Botany Bay prison colony and all manner of human riff-raff
+consorted for nefarious intrigue.</p>
+<p>Benito, mounting the slope, looked down at a welter of tents,
+shacks, deck houses and galleys of wrecked ships. He had expected
+their occupants to be asleep, for they were nighthawks who reversed
+man's usual order in the prosecution of nocturnal and ill-favored
+trades. He was astonished to note a general activity. At the
+portholes of dwellings retrieved from the wreck of the sea, unkempt
+bearded faces stared; smoke leaped from a dozen rickety, unstable
+chimneys, and in the open several groups of men and women plied
+frying pans and coffee pots over driftwood fires.</p>
+<p>Benito observed them with a covert interest. A black-browed man
+with a shaggy beard and something leonine about him, seemed the
+master of the chief of this godless band. He moved among them,
+giving orders, and with two companions finally ascended to the top.
+Benito, concealing himself behind a scrub oak, watched them,
+animatedly conversing, as they descended and picked their way
+inland toward the Square. So swift their movements and so low their
+tones he could not make out the tenor of their discourse. He caught
+the words, "like tow," but that was all. Musingly, he went on.</p>
+<p>Up the broad and muddy path to Market street, thence west again
+to Third, he made his way. Now south to Mission and once more west,
+a favored route for caballeros. Benito had never traveled it before
+afoot. But his horse had succumbed to the rigors of that frantic
+ride in pursuit of Alice and McTurpin several months ago. Mounts
+were a luxury now.</p>
+<p>He skirted the edge of a lagoon that stretched from Sixth to
+Eighth streets and on the ascent beyond observed a tiny box-like
+habitation, brightly painted, ringed with flowers and crowned with
+an imposing flagpole from which floated the Star-Spangled Banner.
+It was a note of gay melody struck athwart the discordant monotony
+of soiled tent houses, tumble-down huts and oblong, flat-roofed
+buildings stretching their disorderly array along the road. Coming
+closer he saw the name, "Pipesville," printed on the door, and knew
+that this must be the "summer home," as it was called, of San
+Francisco's beloved minstrel, Stephen Massett, otherwise "Jeems
+Pipes of Pipesville," singer, player, essayist and creator of those
+wondrous one-man concerts dear to all the countryside.</p>
+<p>"Jeems" himself appeared in the doorway to wave a greeting and
+Benito went on oddly cheered by the encounter. In front of the
+Mansion House, adjoining Mission Dolores, stood Bob Ridley, talking
+with his partner.</p>
+<p>"You look warm, son," he remarked paternally to Windham, "let me
+mix you up a milk punch and you'll feel more like yourself. Where's
+your boss and whither are ye bound?"</p>
+<p>"Died," Benito answered. "Going to my--to the ranch."</p>
+<p>"Thought so," Ridley said. "I hear there's no one on it. Why not
+steal a march on that tin-horn gambler and scallawag. Rally up some
+friends and take possession. That's nine points of the law, my boy,
+and a half-dozen straight-shooting Americans is nine hundred more,
+now that Geary's alcalde and that weak-kneed psalm-singing
+Leavenworth's resigned under fire."</p>
+<p>"You're sure--there's no one at the place?" Benito
+questioned.</p>
+<p>"Pretty sure. But what's it matter? Everybody knows it's yours
+by rights. Wait," he cried, excitedly. "I'll get horses. Stuart and
+I will go along. We'll pick up six or seven bully boys along the
+way. Is it a go?"</p>
+<p>"A go!" exclaimed Benito, his eyes ashine. "You--you're too
+good, Bob Ridley." He pressed the other's hand. "My wife," he
+mused, "among the roses in the patio! The old home, Dear God! Let
+it come true!"</p>
+<p>An hour later ten men galloped through the gate of the Windham
+rancho. No one offered them resistance. It had the look of a place
+long abandoned. Dead leaves and litter everywhere. All of the
+animals had been driven off--sold, no doubt. The hacienda had been
+ransacked of its valuables. It was almost bare of furniture. The
+rose court, neglected, unkempt, brought back a surge of memories. A
+chimney had fallen; broken adobe bricks lay scattered on the
+grass.</p>
+<p>But to Benito it spelled home. For him and for Alice. This
+should be his Christmas gift. Old Antonio, his former major-domo,
+lingered still in San Francisco. He would send him out this very
+day to set the place in order. Tomorrow he and Alice would
+ride--his brow clouded. He should have to borrow two horses. No
+matter. Tomorrow they would ride--</p>
+<p>A startled exclamation from Bob Ridley roused him from his
+rhapsody.</p>
+<p>"Benito, come here! Look! What the devil is that?"</p>
+<p>From their eminence the town of San Francisco was plainly
+visible; tall, thin shafts of smoke rising straight and black from
+many chimneys; the blue bay shimmering in the morning sunshine; the
+curious fretwork shadows of that great flotilla of deserted ships.
+But there was something more; something startlingly unnatural; a
+great pillar of black vapor--beneath it a livid red thing that
+leaped and grew.</p>
+<p>"Good God! The town's afire!" cried Benito.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2>
+<h3>FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Benito's first thought was of Alice. He had left her sleeping.
+Perhaps she had not yet awakened, for the morning was young. Adrian
+had gone to San Jose the previous afternoon. His wife, his sister
+and her child would be alone.</p>
+<p>Benito sprang upon his horse; the others followed. In less than
+half an hour they crossed Market street and were galloping down
+Kearny toward the Square. At California street they were halted by
+a crowd, pushing, shouting, elbowing this way and that without
+apparent or concerted purpose. Above the human babel sounded a
+vicious crackle of burning wood like volleys of shots from small
+rifles. Red and yellow flames shot high and straight into the air.
+Now and then a gust of wind sent the licking fire demon earthward,
+and before its hot breath people fled in panic.</p>
+<p>Benito flung his reins to a bystander. He was scarcely conscious
+of his movements; only that he was fighting for breath in a
+surging, suffocating press of equally excited human beings. From
+this he finally emerged, hatless, disheveled, into a small cleared
+space filled with flying sparks and stifling heat. Across it men
+rushed feverishly carrying pails of water. Dennison's Exchange on
+Kearny street, midway of the block facing Portsmouth Square, was a
+roaring furnace. Flame sprang like red, darting tongues from its
+windows and thrust impertinent fingers here and there through the
+sloping roof.</p>
+<p>Somewhere--no one seemed to know precisely--a woman screamed,
+"My baby! Save my baby!" The sound died to a moan, was stilled.
+Benito, passing a bucket along the line, stared, white faced, at
+his neighbor. "What was that?" he asked.</p>
+<p>"Quien sabe?" said the other, "hurry along with that pail. The
+roof's falling."</p>
+<p>It was true. The shingle-covered space above the burning
+building stirred gently, undulating like some wind-ruffled pond.
+The mansard windows seemed to bow to the watchers, then slowly sink
+forward. With a roar, the whole roof sprang into fire, buckled,
+collapsed; the veranda toppled. Smoke poured from the eight mansard
+windows of the Parker House, next door. South of the Parker House
+were single-storied buildings, one of wood, another of adobe; the
+first was a restaurant; over its roof several foreign-looking men
+spread rugs and upon them poured a red liquid.</p>
+<p>"It's wine," Bob Ridley said. "But they'll never save it.
+Booker's store is going, too. Looks like a clean sweep of the
+block."</p>
+<p>Broderick's commanding figure could be seen rushing hither and
+thither. "No use," Benito heard him say to one of his lieutenants.
+"Water won't stop it. Not enough.... Is there any powder
+hereabouts?"</p>
+<p>"Powder!" cried the other with a blanching face. "By the
+Eternal, yes! A store of it is just around the corner. Mustn't let
+the fire reach--"</p>
+<p>Broderick cut him short. "Go and get it. You and two others.
+Blow up or pull down that building," he indicated a sprawling
+ramshackle structure on the corner.</p>
+<p>"But it's mine," one of the fire-fighters wailed. "Cost me ten
+thousand dollars--"</p>
+<p>Fiercely Broderick turned upon him. "It'll cost the town ten
+millions if you don't hurry," he bellowed. "You can't save it,
+anyhow. Do you want the whole place to burn?"</p>
+<br>
+<a name="page130.jpg"></a>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/page130.jpg" width="85%" alt=
+""><br>
+<b>Broderick's commanding figure was seen rushing hither and
+thither.... "You and two others. Blow up or pull down that
+building," he indicated a sprawling, ramshackle structure.</b></p>
+<br>
+<p>"All right, all right, Cap. Don't shoot," the other countered
+with a sudden laugh. "Come on, boys, follow me." Benito watched him
+and the others presently returning with three kegs. They dived into
+the building indicated. Presently, with the noise of a hundred
+cannon, the corner building burst apart. Sticks and bits of plaster
+flew everywhere. The crowd receded, panic-stricken.</p>
+<p>"Good work!" cried the fire marshal.</p>
+<p>It seemed, indeed, as though the flames were daunted. The two
+small structures were blazing now. The Parker House, reeling
+drunkenly, collapsed.</p>
+<p>Unexpectedly a gust of wind sent fire from the ruins of
+Dennison's Exchange northward. It reached across the open space and
+flung a rain of sparks down Washington street toward Montgomery.
+Instantly there came an answering crackle, and exasperated
+fire-fighters rushed to meet the latest sortie of their enemy. Once
+more three men, keg laden, made their way through smoke and
+showering brands. Again the deafening report reverberated and the
+crowd fell back, alarmed.</p>
+<p>Someone grasped Benito's arm and shook it violently. He turned
+and looked into the feverishly questioning eyes of Adrian
+Stanley.</p>
+<p>"I've just returned," the other panted. "Tell me, is all
+well--with Inez? The women?"</p>
+<p>"Don't know," said Benito, half bewildered. The woman's wail for
+a lost child leaped terrifyingly into his recollection. His hand
+went up as if to ward off something. "Don't know," he repeated.
+"Wasn't home when--fire started."</p>
+<p>It came to him weirdly that he was talking like a drunken man;
+that Adrian eyed him with a sharp disfavor. "Where the devil were
+you, then?"</p>
+<p>"At the ranch," he answered. Suddenly he laughed. It all seemed
+very funny. He had meant to give his wife a Christmas present;
+later he had ridden madly to her rescue, yet here he was passing
+buckets in a fire brigade. And Adrian, regarding him with
+suspicion, accusing him silently with his eyes.</p>
+<p>"You take the pail," he cried. "You fight the fire." And while
+Stanley looked puzzledly after him, Benito charged through a circle
+of spectators up the hill. He did not know that his face was almost
+black; that his eyebrows and the little foreign moustache of which
+they had made fun at the mines was charred and grizzled. He knew
+only that Alice might be in danger. That the fire might have spread
+west as well as east and north.</p>
+<p>As he sped up Washington street another loud explosion drummed
+against his ears. A shout followed it. Benito neither knew nor
+cared for its significance. Five minutes later he stumbled across
+his own doorsill, calling his wife's name. There was no answer.
+Frenziedly he shouted "Alice! Alice!" till at last a neighbor
+answered him.</p>
+<p>"She and Mrs. Stanley and the baby went to Preacher Taylor's
+house. Is the fire out?"</p>
+<p>"No," returned Benito. Once more he plunged down hill, seized a
+bucket and began the interminable passing of water. He looked about
+for Adrian but did not see him. He became a machine, dully,
+persistently, desperately performing certain ever-repeated
+tasks.</p>
+<p>Hours seemed to pass. Then, of a sudden, something interrupted
+the accustomed trend. He held out his hands and no bucket met it.
+With a look of stupid surprise he stared at the man behind him. He
+continued to hold out his hand.</p>
+<p>"Wake up," cried the other, and gave him a whack across the
+shoulders. "Wake up, Benito, man. The fire's out."</p>
+<p>Robert Parker, whose hotel was a litter of smoking timbers, and
+Tom Maguire, owner of what once had been the Eldorado gambling
+house, were discussing their losses.</p>
+<p>"Busted?" Parker asked.</p>
+<p>"Cleaned!" Maguire answered.</p>
+<p>"Goin' to rebuild?"</p>
+<p>"Yep. And you?"</p>
+<p>"Sartin. Sure. Soon as I can get the lumber and a loan."</p>
+<p>"Put her there, pard."</p>
+<p>Their hands met with a smack.</p>
+<p>"That's the spirit of San Francisco," Ridley remarked. "Well
+we've learned a lesson. Next time we'll be ready for this sort of
+thing. Broderick's planning already for an engine company."</p>
+<p>"I reckon," Adrian commented as he joined the group, "a
+vigilance committee is what we need even more."</p>
+<p>To this Benito made no answer. Into his mind flashed a memory of
+the trio that had left Thieves' Hollow at daybreak.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2>
+<h3>POLITICS AND A WARNING</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Benito Windham rose reluctantly and stretched himself. It was
+very comfortable in the living-room of the ranch house, where a
+fire crackled in the huge stone grate built by his grandfather's
+Indian artisans. Many of the valuable tapestries imported from
+Spain had been removed by McTurpin during his tenure, but even bare
+adobe walls were cheerful in the light of blazing logs, and rugs of
+native weave accorded well with the simple mission furniture. In a
+great chair that almost swallowed her sat Alice, gazing dreamily
+into the embers. Family portraits hung upon the wall, and one of
+these, stiff and haughty in the regimentals of a soldado de cuero,
+seemed to look down upon the domestic picture with a certain
+austere benignity. This was the painting of Francisco Garvez of
+hidalgo lineage, who had stood beside Ortega, the Pathfinder, when
+that honored scout of Portola had found the bay of San Francisco
+and the Golden Gate.</p>
+<p>"Carissima, how he would have loved you, that old man!" Benito's
+tone was dreamy.</p>
+<p>Alice Windham turned. "You are like him, Benito," she said
+fondly. "There is the same flash in your eye. Come, sit for awhile
+by the fire. It's so cosy when it storms."</p>
+<p>Benito kissed her. "I would that I might, but today there is an
+election in the city," he reminded. "I must go to vote. Perhaps I
+can persuade the good Broderick to dine with us this evening; or
+Brannan--though he is so busy nowadays. Often I look about
+unconsciously for Nathan Spear. It seems impossible that he is
+dead."</p>
+<p>"He was 47, but he seemed so young," commented Alice. She rose
+hastily. "You must be very careful, dear," she cautioned, with a
+swift anxiety, "of the cold and wet--and of the hoodlums. They tell
+me there are many. Every week one reads in the <i>Alta</i> that
+So-and-So was killed at the Eldorado or the Verandah. Never more
+than that. In my home in the East they would call it murder. There
+would be a great commotion; the assassin would be hanged."</p>
+<p>"Ah, yes; but this is a new country," he said, a little
+lamely.</p>
+<p>"Will there never be law in San Francisco?" Alice asked him,
+passionately. "I have not forgotten--how my father died."</p>
+<p>Benito's face went suddenly white. "Nor I," he said, with an odd
+intensity; "there are several things ... that you may trust me ...
+to remember."</p>
+<p>"You mean," she queried in alarm, "McTurpin?"</p>
+<p>Benito's mood changed. "There, my dear." He put an arm about her
+shoulders soothingly. "Don't worry. I'll be careful; neither storm
+nor bullets shall harm me. I will promise you that."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Early as it was in the day's calendar--for San Francisco had no
+knack of rising with the sun--Benito found the town awake,
+intensely active when he picked his way along the edge of those
+dangerous bogs that passed for business streets. Several polling
+places had been established. Toward each of them, lines of citizens
+converged in patient single-file detachments that stretched usually
+around the corner and the length of another block. Official
+placards announced that all citizens of the United States were
+entitled to the ballot and beneath one of these, a wag had written
+with white chalk in a large and sprawling hand:</p>
+<p>"No Chinese Coolies in Disguise Need Apply."</p>
+<p>No one seemed to mind the rain, though a gale blew from the sea,
+causing a multitude of tents to sway and flap in dangerous fashion.
+Now and then a canvas habitation broke its moorings and went racing
+down the hill, pursued by a disheveled and irate occupant,
+indulging in the most violent profanity.</p>
+<p>At Kearny and Sacramento streets Benito, approaching the voting
+station, was told to get in line by Charley Elleard, the town
+constable. Elleard rode his famous black pony. This pony was the
+pet of the town and had developed a sagacity nearly human. It was
+considered wondrous sport to give the little animal a "two-bit"
+piece, which it would gravely hold between its teeth and present to
+the nearest bootblack, placing its forefeet daintily upon the
+footrests for a "shine."</p>
+<p>As he neared the polls in the slow succession of advancing
+voters, Benito was beset by a rabble of low-voiced, rough-dressed
+men, who thrust their favorite tickets into his hands and bade him
+vote as indicated, often in a threatening manner. Raucously they
+tried to cry each other down. "Here's for Geary and the good old
+council," one would shout. "Geary and his crowd forever."</p>
+<p>"We've had the old one too long," a red-shirted six-footer
+bellowed. "Fresh blood for me. We want sidewalks and clean
+streets."</p>
+<p>This provoked a chorus of "Aye! Aye! That's the ticket, pard,"
+until a satirical voice exclaimed, "Clean streets and sidewalks!
+Gor a'mighty. He's dreamin' o' Heaven!"</p>
+<p>A roar of laughter echoed round the town at this sally. It was
+repeated everywhere. The campaign slogan was hastily dropped.</p>
+<p>At the polling desk Benito found himself behind a burly Kanaka
+sailor, dark as an African.</p>
+<p>"I contest his vote," cried one of the judges. "If he's an
+American, I'm a Hottentot."</p>
+<p>"Where were you born?" asked the challenging judge of
+election.</p>
+<p>"New York," whispered a voice in the Kanaka's ear, and he
+repeated the word stammeringly. "Where was your father born?" came
+the second question, and again the word was repeated. "What part of
+New York?"</p>
+<p>"New York, New York." The answer was parrot-like. Someone
+laughed.</p>
+<p>"Ask him what part of the Empire State he hails from?" suggested
+another. The question was put in simpler form, but it proved too
+much for the Islander. He stammered, stuttered, waved his hand
+uncertainly toward the ocean. Perceiving that he was the butt of
+public jest, he broke out of the line and made off as fast as his
+long legs could transport him.</p>
+<p>The man whose whispered promptings had proved unavailing, fell
+sullenly into the background, after venomous glance at the
+successful objector. Benito caught his eyes under the dripping
+crown of a wide-brimmed slouch hat. They seemed to him vaguely
+familiar. Almost instinctively his hand sought the pocket in which
+his derringer reposed. Then, with a laugh, he dismissed the matter.
+He had no quarrel with the fellow; that murderous look was aimed at
+Henry Mellus, not at him. So he cast his ballot and went out.</p>
+<p>Opposite the Square he paused to note the progress of
+rehabilitation in the burned area. It was less than a fortnight
+since he had stood there feverishly passing buckets of water in a
+fight against the flames, but already most of the evidences of
+conflagration were hidden behind the framework of new buildings.
+The Eldorado announced a grand opening in the "near future";
+Maguire's Jenny Lind Theater notified one in conspicuous letters,
+"We Will Soon Be Ready for Our Patrons, Bigger and Grander Than
+Ever."</p>
+<p>Benito nodded to Robert Parker, whose hotel was rising,
+phoenix-like from its ashes.</p>
+<p>"Things are coming along," he said with a gesture toward the
+buildings. "Have you seen anything of Dave Broderick?"</p>
+<p>Parker shook the rain-drops from his hat. "Saw him going toward
+the Bella Union," he replied. "They say he's as good as elected. A
+fine State senator he'll make, too." Taking Benito's arm, he walked
+with him out of earshot of those nearby.</p>
+<p>"Benito," his tone was grave. "They tell me you've resumed
+possession of your ranch."</p>
+<p>"Yes," confirmed the younger. "Half a dozen of my old servants
+are there with Mrs. Windham and myself. I've bought a little stock
+on credit and all's going well."</p>
+<p>For a moment Parker said nothing; then, almost in Benito's ear,
+he spoke a warning: "Do you know that McTurpin is back?"</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2>
+<h3>ON THE TRAIL OF McTURPIN</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Benito, in a mood of high excitement, strode uphill toward the
+Bella Union, pondering the significance of Parker's startling
+information.</p>
+<p>So McTurpin had come back.</p>
+<p>He had been about to ask for further details when one of the
+hurrying workmen called his informant away. After all it did not
+matter much just how or when the gambler had returned. They were
+sure to meet sooner or later. Once more Windham's hand
+unconsciously sought the pistol in his pocket. At the entrance of
+the Bella Union he halted, shook the rain from his hat, scraped the
+mud from his feet upon a pile of gunnysacks which served as
+doormats, and went into the brilliant room. Since the temporary
+closing of the Eldorado, this place had become the most elegant and
+crowded of the city's gaming palaces. A mahogany bar extended the
+length of the building; huge hanging lamps surrounded by ornate
+clusters of prisms lent an air of jeweled splendor which the large
+mirrors and pyramids of polished glasses back of the counter
+enhanced. On a platform at the rear were several Mexican musicians
+in rich native costumes twanging gaily upon guitars and mandolins.
+Now and then one of them sang, or a Spanish dancer pirouetted,
+clicking her castanets and casting languishing glances at the ring
+of auditors about her. These performers were invariably showered
+with coins. Tables of all sizes filled the center of the room from
+the long roulette board to the little round ones where drinks were
+served. Faro, monte, roulette, rouge et noir, vingt-un,
+chuck-a-luck and poker: each found its disciples; now and then a
+man went quietly out and another took his place; there was nothing
+to indicate that he had lost perhaps thousands of dollars, the
+"clean-up" of a summer of hardships at the mines. A bushy bearded
+miner boasted that he had won $40,000 and lost it again in an hour
+and a half. Henry Mellus offered him work as a teamster and the
+other accepted.</p>
+<p>"Easy come, easy go," he commented philosophically and, lighting
+his pipe from one of the sticks of burning punk placed at intervals
+along the bar, he went out.</p>
+<p>In an out-of-the-way corner, where the evening's noise and
+activity ebbed and flowed a little more remotely, Benito discovered
+Broderick chewing an unlighted cigar and discussing the
+probabilities of election with John Geary. They hailed him
+cordially, but in a little while Geary drifted off to learn further
+news of the polls.</p>
+<p>"And how is the charming Mrs. Windham?" asked Broderick.</p>
+<p>"Well and happy, thank you," said Benito. "She loves the old
+place. Cannot you dine with us there tonight?"</p>
+<p>"With real pleasure," Broderick returned. "In this raw,
+boisterous place a chance to enjoy a bit of home life, to talk with
+a high-bred woman is more precious than gold."</p>
+<p>Benito bowed. "It is not often that we have a Senator for a
+guest," he returned, smiling.</p>
+<p>Broderick placed a hand upon his shoulder almost paternally. "I
+hope that is prophetic, Benito," he said. "I'm strangely serious
+about it. This town has taken hold of me--your San Francisco."</p>
+<p>They turned to greet Sam Brannan, now a candidate for the
+ayuntamiento or town council. "How goes it, Sam?" asked
+Broderick.</p>
+<p>"Well enough," responded Brannan. He looked tired, irritated.
+"There's been a conspiracy against us by the rowdy element, but I
+think we've beaten them now."</p>
+<p>Broderick's brow clouded. "We need a better government; a more
+effective system of police, Sam," he said, striking his first
+against the table.</p>
+<p>"What we need," said Brannan, "is a citizens' society of public
+safety; a committee of vigilance. And, mark my word, we're going to
+have 'em. There's more than one who suspects the town was set afire
+last December."</p>
+<p>"But," said Broderick, "mob rule is dangerous. The constituted
+authorities must command. They are the ones to uphold the law."</p>
+<p>"But what if they don't?" Brannan's aggressive chin was thrust
+forward. "What then?"</p>
+<p>"They must be made to; but authority should not be overthrown.
+That's revolution."</p>
+<p>"And where, may I ask, would human liberty be today if there'd
+never been a revolution?" Brannan countered.</p>
+<p>Benito left them. He had no stomach for such argument, though he
+was to hear much more of it in years to come. Suddenly he recalled
+the man who had tried to coach the Kanaka; who had glared so
+murderously at Mellus. Those eyes had been familiar; something
+about them had made him grip his pistol, an impulse at which
+afterward he had laughed. But now he knew the reason for that
+half-involuntary action. Despite the beard and mustache covering
+the lower portion of his face completely; despite the low-pulled
+hat, the disguising ulster, he knew the man.</p>
+<p>McTurpin.</p>
+<p>The hot Spanish temper which he had never entirely mastered,
+flamed like a scorching blast across Benito's mind. He saw again
+McTurpin smiling as he won by fraud the stake at cards which he had
+laid against Benito's ranch; he seemed to hear again the gambler's
+sneering laugh as he, his father and Adrian had been ambushed at
+the entrance of his home; in his recollection burned the fellow's
+insult to his sister; the abduction of Alice, his wife; the murder
+of his partner. He was certain that McTurpin had somehow been at
+the bottom of it. Swiftly he was lost to all reason. He took the
+weapon from his pocket, examined it carefully to make certain that
+the caps were unimpaired by moisture. Then he set forth.</p>
+<p>At the polling station he made casual inquiries, but the
+ballot-box stuffer for some time had not been seen.</p>
+<p>"Charley Elleard ran him off, I think," said Frank Ward,
+laughing. "He'd have voted Chinamen and Indians if he'd had his
+way. But if you're looking for the rascal try the gambling house at
+Long Wharf and Montgomery street; that's where his kind hang
+out."</p>
+<p>Later in the spring of 1850 Montgomery street was graded. Now it
+was a sloping streak of mud, the western side of which was several
+feet above the other. Where Long Wharf, which was to be cut through
+and called Commercial street, intersected, or rather bisected
+Montgomery, stood a large building with a high, broad roof. Its
+eaves projected over a row of benches, and here, sheltered somewhat
+from the rain, a group of Mexicans and Chilenos lounged in
+picturesque native costumes, smoking cigarettes. Through the door
+came a rollicking melody--sailor tunes played by skillful
+performers--and a hum of converse punctuated by the click of chips
+and coin. Benito entered. The room was blue with cigarette smoke,
+its score of tables glimpsed as through a fog. Sawdust covered the
+floor and men of all nationalities mingled quietly enough at play
+of every kind. A stream of men came and went to and from the gaming
+boards and bar.</p>
+<p>Benito ordered a drink, and surveyed the room searchingly. The
+man he sought was not in evidence. "Is McTurpin here?" he asked the
+bartender.</p>
+<p>If that worthy heard, he made no answer; but a slight, agile man
+with sly eyes looked up from a nearby table, "What d'ye want of
+him, stranger?"</p>
+<p>An arrogant retort sprang to Benito's lips, but he checked it.
+He bent toward the questioner confidentially. "I've news for Alec,"
+he whispered; "news he ought to know--and quickly."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h2>
+<h3>THE SQUATTER CONSPIRACY</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Instantly the slight man rose. He had narrow eyes, shrewd and
+calculating and the sinuous motions of a contortionist. Linking his
+arm with Benito's, he smiled, disclosing small, discolored teeth.
+There was something ratlike about him, infinitely repellant. "Come,
+I'll tyke ye to 'im," he volunteered.</p>
+<p>But this did not suit Benito's purpose. "I must go alone," he
+said emphatically.</p>
+<p>The other eyed him with suspicion. "Then find him alone," he
+countered, sullenly. But a moment later he was plucking at Benito's
+elbow. "What's it all abaout, this 'ere news? Cawn't ye tell a
+fellow? Give me an inklin'; trust me and I'll trust you; that's
+business."</p>
+<p>Benito hesitated. "It's about the ranch," he returned at a
+venture.</p>
+<p>"Ow, the rawnch. Well, you needn't 'ave been so bloody sly about
+it. Alec isn't worried much abaout the rawnch. 'E's bigger fish to
+fry. But you can see 'im if you wants. 'E's at the Broken Bottle
+Tavern up in Sydney Town."</p>
+<p>They had a drink together; then Benito parted from his
+informant, ruminating over what the little man, so palpably a
+"Sydney Duck," had told him.</p>
+<p>Benito surveyed his reflection in a glass. In his
+rain-bedraggled attire he might pass for one of the Sydney Ducks
+himself. His boots were splashed with mud, his scrape wrinkled and
+formless. He pulled the dripping hat into a disheveled slouch, low
+down on his forehead. McTurpin had not seen him with a beard, had
+failed to recognize him at the polling station. Benito decided to
+risk it.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>One of the largest and most pretentious of Sydney Town's "pubs,"
+or taverns, was The Broken Bottle, kept by a former English
+pugilist from Botany Bay. He was known as Bruiser Jake, could
+neither read nor write and was shaped very much like a log, his
+neck being as large as his head. It was said that the Australian
+authorities had tried to hang him several times, but failed because
+the noose slipped over his chin and ears, refusing its usual
+function. So he finally had been given a "ticket of leave" and had
+come to California. Curiously enough the Bruiser never drank. He
+prided himself on his sobriety and the great strength of his
+massive hands in which he could squeeze the water out of a potato.
+Ordinarily he was not quarrelsome, though he fought like a tiger
+when aroused.</p>
+<p>Benito found this worthy behind his bar and asked for a drink of
+English ale, a passable quality of which was served in the original
+imported bottles at most public houses.</p>
+<p>The Bruiser watched him furtively with little piglike eyes. "And
+who might ye be, stranger?" he asked when Benito set down his
+glass.</p>
+<p>"'Awkins--that's as good a nyme as another," said Benito,
+essaying the cockney speech. "And what ye daon't know won't 'urt
+you, my friend." He threw down a silver piece, took the bottle and
+glass with him and sat down at a table near the corner. Hard by he
+had glimpsed the familiar broad back of McTurpin.</p>
+<p>At first the half-whispered converse of the trio at the
+adjoining table was incomprehensible to his ears, but after a time
+he caught words, phrases, sentences.</p>
+<p>First the word "squatters" reached him, several times repeated;
+then, "at Rincon." Finally, "the best lots in the city can be
+held."</p>
+<p>After that for a time he lost the thread of the talk. An
+argument arose, and, in its course, McTurpin's voice was raised
+incautiously.</p>
+<p>"Who's to stop us?" he contended, passionately. "The old alcalde
+grants aren't worth the paper they're written on. Haven't squatters
+dispossessed the Spaniards all over California? Didn't they take
+the San Antonio ranch in Oakland, defend it with cannon, and put
+old Peralta in jail for bothering them with his claims of
+ownership?" He laughed. "It's a rare joke, this land business. If
+we squat on the Rincon, who'll dispossess us? Answer me that."</p>
+<p>"But it's government ground. It's leased to Ted Shillaber," one
+objected.</p>
+<p>"To the devil with Shillaber," McTurpin answered. "He won't know
+we're going to squat till we've put up our houses. And when he
+comes we'll quote him squatter law. He can buy us off if he likes.
+It'll cost him uncommon high. He can fight us in the courts and
+we'll show him squatter justice. We've our friends in the courts,
+let me tell you."</p>
+<p>"Aye, mayhap," returned a lanky, red-haired sailor, "but there's
+them o' us, like you and me and Andy, yonder, what isn't hankerin'
+for courts."</p>
+<p>McTurpin leaned forward, and his voice diminished so that Benito
+could scarcely hear his words. "Don't be afraid," he said. "I've
+got my men selected for the Rincon business, a full dozen of 'em
+... all with clean records, mind ye. Nothing against them." He
+pounded the table with his fist by way of emphasis. "And when we've
+done old Shillaber, we'll come in closer. We'll claim lots that are
+worth fifty thou--" He paused. His tone sank even lower, so that
+some of his sentence was lost.</p>
+<p>It was at this juncture that Benito sneezed. He had felt the
+approach of that betraying reflex for some minutes, but had stifled
+it. Those who have tried this under similar circumstances know the
+futility of such attempts; know the accumulated fury of sound with
+which at length bursts forth the startling, terrible and
+irrepressible</p>
+<p>"Ker-CHEW!"</p>
+<p>McTurpin and his two companions wheeled like lightning. "Who's
+this?" the gambler snarled. He took a step toward the Bruiser. "Who
+the devil let him in to spy on us?"</p>
+<p>"Aw, stow it, Alec!" said the former fighter. "'E's no spy. 'E's
+one o' our lads from the bay. Hi can tell by 'is haccent."</p>
+<p>Benito rose. His hand crept toward the derringer, but McTurpin
+was before him. "Don't try that, blast you!" he commanded. "Now, my
+friend, let's have a look at you.... By the Eternal! It's young
+Windham!"</p>
+<p>"The cove you don hout o' his rawnch?" asked the Bruiser,
+curiously.</p>
+<p>"Shut up, you fool!" roared the gambler. His face was white with
+fury. "What are you doing here?" he asked Benito.</p>
+<p>"Getting some points on--er--land holding," said Windham. He was
+perfectly calm. Several times this man had overawed, outwitted,
+beaten him. Now, though he was in the enemy's country, surrounded
+by cutthroats and thieves, he felt suddenly the master of the
+situation. Perhaps it was McTurpin's dismay, perhaps the spur of
+his own danger. He knew that there was only one escape, and that
+through playing on McTurpin's anger. "A most ingenious scheme, but
+it'll fail you!"</p>
+<p>"And why'll it fail, my young jackanapes?" the gambler blazed at
+him. "Do you reckon I'll let you go to give the alarm?"</p>
+<p>It was then Benito threw his bombshell. It was but a shrewd
+guess. Yet it worked amazingly. "Your plan will fail," he said with
+slow distinctness, "because Sam Brennan and Alcalde Geary know you
+set the town afire. Because they're going to hang you."</p>
+<p>Rage and terror mingled in McTurpin's face. Speechless,
+paralyzing wrath that held him open-mouthed a moment. In that
+moment Windham acted quickly. He hurled the bottle, still half full
+of ale, at his antagonist, missed him by the fraction of an inch
+and sent the missile caroming against the Bruiser's ear, thence
+down among a pyramid of glasses. There was a shivering tinkle; then
+the roar as of a maddened bull. The Bruiser charged. Windham shot
+twice into the air and fled. He heard a rending crash behind him, a
+voice that cried aloud in mortal pain, a shot. Then, silence.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h2>
+<h3>"GROWING PAINS"</h3>
+<br>
+<p>On the morning of February 28, 1850, Theodore Shillaber, with a
+number of friends, made a visit to the former's leased land on the
+Rincon, later known as Rincon Hill. Here, on the old government
+reserve, whose guns had once flanked Yerba Buena Cove, Shillaber
+had secured a lease on a commanding site which he planned to
+convert into a fashionable residence section. What was his
+surprise, then, to find the scenic promontory covered with
+innumerable rickety and squalid huts. A tall and muscular young
+fellow with open-throated shirt and stalwart, hirsute chest,
+swaggered toward him, fingering rather carelessly, it seemed to
+Shillaber, the musket he held.</p>
+<p>"Lookin' for somebody, stranger?" he inquired, meaningly.</p>
+<p>Shillaber, somewhat taken aback, inquired by what right the
+members of this colony held possession.</p>
+<p>"Squatter's rights," returned the large youth, calmly, and spat
+uncomfortably near to Shillaber's polished boots.</p>
+<p>"And what are squatter's rights, may I ask?" said Shillaber,
+striving to control his rising temper.</p>
+<p>The youth tapped his rifle barrel. "Anyone that tries to
+dispossess us'll soon find out," he returned gruffly, and, turning
+his back on the visitors, he strode back toward his cabin.</p>
+<p>"Wait," called Shillaber, red with wrath, "I notify you now, in
+the presence of witnesses that if you and all your scurvy crew are
+not gone bag and baggage within twentyfour hours, I'll have the
+authorities dispossess you and throw you into jail for
+trespassing."</p>
+<p>The large young man halted and presented a grinning face to his
+threatener. He did not deign to reply, but, as though he had given
+a signal, shrill cackles of laughter broke out in a dozen
+places.</p>
+<p>Shillaber, who was a choleric man, shook his fist at them. He
+was too angry for speech.</p>
+<p>Shillaber had more than his peck of trouble with the Sydney
+Ducks that roosted on his land. He sent the town authorities to
+dispossess them, but without result. There were too many squatters
+and too few police. Next he sent an agent to collect rents, but the
+man returned with a sore head and bruised body, minus coin.
+Shillaber was on the verge of insanity. He appealed to everyone
+from the prefect to the governor. In Sydney Town his antics were
+the sport of a gay and homogeneous population and at the public
+houses one might hear the flouted landlord rave through the
+impersonations of half a dozen clever mimics. At The Broken Bottle
+a new boniface held forth. Bruiser Jake had mysteriously
+disappeared on the evening of election. And with him had vanished
+Alec McTurpin, though a sly-eyed little man now and then brought
+messages from the absent leader.</p>
+<p>In the end Shillaber triumphed, for he persuaded Captain Keyes,
+commander at the Presidio, that the squatters were defying Federal
+law. Thus, one evening, a squad of cavalry descended upon the
+Rincon squatters, scattering them like chaff and demolishing their
+flimsy habitations in the twinkling of an eye. But this did not end
+squatterism. Some of the evicted took up claims on lots closer in.
+A woman's house was burned and she, herself, was driven off.
+Another woman was shot while defending her husband's home during
+his absence.</p>
+<p>Meanwhile, San Francisco's streets had been graded and planked.
+The old City Hall, proving inadequate, was succeeded by a converted
+hotel. The Graham House, a four-story wooden affair of many
+balconies, at Kearny and Pacific streets, was now the seat of local
+government.</p>
+<p>For it the council paid the extraordinary sum of $150,000,
+thereby provoking a storm of newspaper discussion. Three
+destructive fires had ravaged through the cloth and paper
+districts, and on their ashes more substantial structures
+stood.</p>
+<p>There was neither law nor order worthy of the name. Only
+feverish activity. A newsboy who peddled Altas on the streets made
+$40,000 from his operations; another vendor of the Sacramento
+Union, boasted $30,000 for his pains. A washerwoman left her hut on
+the lagoon and built a "mansion." Laundering, enhanced by real
+estate investments, had given her a fortune of $100,000.</p>
+<p>Social strata were not yet established. Caste was practically
+unknown. Former convicts married, settled down, became respected
+citizens. Carpenters, bartenders, laborers, mechanics from the East
+and Middle West, became bankers, Senators, judges, merchant princes
+and promoters.</p>
+<p>White linen replaced red flannel, bowie knives and revolvers
+were sedately hidden beneath frock coats, the vicuna hat was a
+substitute for slouch and sombrero.</p>
+<p>But, under it all, the fierce, restless heart of San Francisco
+beat on unchanged. In it stirred the daring, the lawless adventure,
+the feverish ambition and the hair-trigger pride of argonauts from
+many lands. And in it burned the deviltry, brutality,
+licentiousness and greed of criminal elements freed from the curb
+of legal discipline.</p>
+<p>David Broderick discussed it frequently with Alice Windham. He
+had fallen into a habit of coming to the ranch when wearied by
+affairs of state. He was a silent, brooding man, robbed somehow of
+his national heritage, a sense of humor, for he had Irish blood. He
+was a man of fire, implacable as an enemy, inalienable as a friend.
+And to Alice, as she sat embroidering or knitting before the fire,
+he told many of his dreams, his plans. She would nod her head
+sagely, giving him her eyes now and then--eyes that were clear and
+calm with understanding.</p>
+<p>Thus Alice came to know what boded for the town of San
+Francisco. "Benito," she said one night, when Broderick had gone,
+"Benito, my dearest, will you let me stir you--even if it wounds?"
+She came up behind him quickly; put her arms about his neck and
+leaned her golden head against his own. "We are sitting here too
+quietly ... while life goes by," her tone was wistful. "You,
+especially, Benito. Outside teems the world; the gorgeous, vibrant
+world of which our David speaks."</p>
+<p>"What do you want me to do?" he asked, stirring restlessly, "go
+into business? Make money--like Adrian?"</p>
+<p>"No, no," she nestled closer. "It isn't money that I crave. We
+are happy here. But"--she looked up at the portrait of Francisco
+Garvez, and Benito followed her glance. "What would he have you
+do?"</p>
+<p>"I promised him in thought," her husband said, "that I would
+help to build the city he loved. It was a prophecy," his tone grew
+dreamy, "a prophecy that he and his--the Garvez blood--should
+always stir in San Francisco's heart." Swiftly he rose and,
+standing very straight before the picture, raised his right hand to
+salute. "You are right," he said. "He would have wanted me to be a
+soldier."</p>
+<p>But Alice shook her head. "The conquest is over," she told him.
+"San Francisco needs no gun nor saber now. In our courts and
+legislatures lie the future battlegrounds for justice. You must
+study law, Benito.... I want"--quick color tinged her face--"I want
+my--son to have a father who--"</p>
+<p>"Alice!" cried Benito. But she fled from him. The door of her
+bedroom closed behind her. But it opened again very softly--"who
+makes his country's laws," she finished, fervently.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI</h2>
+<h3>THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEE</h3>
+<br>
+<p>About 8 o'clock on the evening of February 19, 1851, two men
+entered the store of C.J. Jansen &amp; Co., a general merchandise
+shop on Montgomery street. The taller and older presented a
+striking figure. He was of such height that, possibly from entering
+many low doorways, he had acquired a slight stoop. His beard was
+long and dark, his hair falling to the collar, was a rich and wavy
+brown. He had striking eyes, an aquiline nose and walked with a
+long, measured stride. Charles Jansen, alone in the store, noted
+these characteristics half unconsciously and paid little attention
+to the smaller man who lurked behind his companion in the
+shadows.</p>
+<p>"Show me some blankets," said the tall man peremptorily. Jansen
+did not like his tone, nor his looks for that matter, but he turned
+toward a shelf where comforters, sheets and blankets were piled in
+orderly array. As he did so he heard a quick step behind him; the
+universe seemed to split asunder in a flash of countless stars. And
+then the world turned black.</p>
+<p>Hours afterward his partner found him prone behind the counter,
+a great bleeding cut on his head. The safe stood open and a hasty
+examination revealed the loss of $2,000 in gold dust and coin.
+Jansen was revived with difficulty and, after a period of delirium,
+described what had occurred. The next morning's Alta published a
+sensational account of the affair, describing Jansen's assailant
+and stating that the victim's recovery was uncertain.</p>
+<p>As Adrian, Benito and Samuel Brannan passed the new city hall on
+the morning of February 22, they noticed that a crowd was
+gathering. People seemed to be running from all directions.
+Newsboys with huge armfuls of morning papers, thrust them in the
+faces of pedestrians, crying, "Extra! Extra! Assassins of Jansen
+caught." Adrian tossed the nearest lad a two-bit piece and grasped
+the outstretched sheet. It related in heavy blackfaced type the
+arrest of "two scoundrelly assassins," one of whom, James Stuart, a
+notorious "Sydney Duck," was wanted in Auburn for the murder of
+Sheriff Moore. This was the man identified by Jansen. He claimed
+mistaken identity, however, insisting that his name was Thomas
+Berdue.</p>
+<p>"They'll let him go on that ridiculous plea, no doubt," remarked
+Brannan, wrathfully. "There are always a dozen alibis and false
+witnesses for these gallows-birds. It's time the people were doing
+something."</p>
+<p>"It looks very much as though we <i>were</i> doing something,"
+said Benito, with a glance at the gathering crowd.</p>
+<p>There were shouts of "Lynch them! Bring them out and hang them
+to a tree!" Someone thrust a handbill toward Benito, who grasped it
+mechanically. It read:</p>
+<blockquote>CITIZENS OF SAN FRANCISCO<br>
+<br>
+The series of murders and robberies that have been committed in the
+city seems to leave us entirely in a state of anarchy. Law, it
+appears, is but a nonentity to be sneered at; redress can be had
+for aggression but through the never-failing remedy so admirably
+laid down in the Code of Judge Lynch.<br>
+<br>
+All those who would rid our city of its robbers and murderers will
+assemble on Sunday at 2 o'clock on the Plaza.</blockquote>
+<br>
+<p>"This means business," commented Adrian grimly. "It may mean
+worse unless their temper cools. I've heard this Stuart has a
+double. They should give him time--"</p>
+<p>"Bosh!" cried Brannan, "they should string him up immediately."
+He waved the handbill aloft. "Hey, boys," he called out loudly,
+"let us go and take them. Let us have a little justice in this
+town."</p>
+<p>"Aye, aye," cried a score of voices. Instantly a hundred men
+rushed up the stairs and pushed aside policemen stationed at the
+doors. They streamed inward, hundreds more pushing from the rear
+until the court room was reached. There they halted suddenly. Angry
+shouts broke from the rear. "What's wrong ahead? Seize the rascals.
+Bring them out!"</p>
+<p>But the front rank of that invading army paused for an excellent
+reason. They faced a row of bayonets with determined faces behind
+them. Sheriff Hayes had sensed the brewing troubles and had brought
+the Washington Guards quietly in at a rear entrance.</p>
+<p>So the crowd fell back and the first mob rush was baffled.
+Outside the people still talked angrily. At least a thousand
+thronged the court house, surrounding it with the determined and
+angry purpose of letting no one escape. Mayor Geary made his way
+with difficulty through the press and urged them to disperse. He
+assured them that the law would take its proper course and that
+there was no danger of the prisoners' release or escape. They
+listened to him respectfully but very few left their posts. Here
+and there speakers addressed the multitude.</p>
+<p>The crowd, the first fever abated, had resolved itself into a
+semi-parliamentary body. But no real leader had arisen. And so it
+arrived at nothing save the appointment of a committee to confer
+with the authorities and insure the proper guarding of the
+prisoners. Brannan was one of these and Benito another.</p>
+<p>"Windham's getting to be a well-known citizen," said a bystander
+to Adrian, "I hear he's studying law with Hall McAllister. Used to
+be a dreamy sort of chap. He's waking up."</p>
+<p>"Yes, his wife is at the bottom of it," Stanley answered.</p>
+<p>Sunday morning 8,000 people surrounded the courthouse. Less
+turbulent than on the previous day, their purpose was more grimly
+certain.</p>
+<p>Mayor Geary's impressive figure appeared on the balcony of the
+court house. He held out a hand for silence and amid the hush that
+followed, spoke with brevity and to the point.</p>
+<p>"The people's will is final," he conceded, "but this very fact
+entails responsibility, noblesse oblige! What we want is justice,
+gentlemen. Now, I'll tell you how to make it sure. Appoint a jury
+of twelve men from among yourselves. Let them sit at the trial with
+the presiding judge. Their judgment shall be final. I pledge you my
+word for that."</p>
+<p>He ceased and again the crowd began murmuring. A tall,
+smooth-shaven youth began to talk with calm distinctness.</p>
+<p>There was about him the aspect of command. People ceased their
+talk to listen. "I move you, gentlemen," he shouted, "that a
+committee of twelve men be appointed from amongst us to retire and
+consider this situation calmly. They shall then report and if their
+findings are approved, they shall be law."</p>
+<p>"Good! Good!" came a chorus of voices. "Hurray for Bill Coleman.
+Make him chairman."</p>
+<p>Coleman bowed. "I thank you, gentlemen," he said, then crisply,
+like so many whip-cracks, he called the names of eleven men. One by
+one they answered and the crowd made way for them. Silently and in
+a body they departed.</p>
+<p>"There's a leader for you," exclaimed Adrian to his
+brother-in-law. Benito nodded, eyes ashine with admiration.
+Presently there was a stir among the crowd. The jury was returning.
+"Well, gentlemen," the mayor raised his voice, "what is the
+verdict?"</p>
+<p>Coleman answered: "We recommend that the prisoners be tried by
+the people. If the legal courts wish to aid they're invited.
+Otherwise we shall appoint a prosecutor and attorney for the
+prisoners. The trial will take place this afternoon."</p>
+<p>"Hurray! Hurray!" the people shouted. The cheers were
+deafening.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII</h2>
+<h3>THE PEOPLE'S JURY</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Benito, as he elbowed his way through a crowd which ringed the
+city hall that afternoon, was impressed by the terrific
+tight-lipped determination of those faces all about him. It was as
+though San Francisco had but one thought, one straight, relentless
+purpose--the punishment of crime by Mosaic law. The prisoners in
+the county jail appeared to sense this wave of retributive hatred,
+for they paced their cells like caged beasts.</p>
+<p>It was truly a case of "The People vs. Stuart (alias Berdue) and
+Windred," charged with robbery and assault. Coleman and his
+Committee of Twelve were in absolute charge. They selected as
+judges, three popular and trusted citizens, J.R. Spence, H.R. Bowie
+and C.L. Ross. W.A. Jones was named the judge's clerk and J.E.
+Townes the whilom sheriff.</p>
+<p>While the jury was impaneling, Brannan spoke to Benito: "Twelve
+good men and true; the phrase means something here. Lord, if we
+could have such jurymen as these in all our American courts."</p>
+<p>Benito nodded. "They've appointed Bill Coleman as public
+prosecutor; that's rather a joke on Bill."</p>
+<p>Judge Spence, who sat between his two colleagues, presiding on
+the bench, now spoke:</p>
+<p>"I appoint Judge Shattuck and--er--Hall McAllister as counsel
+for the defendants."</p>
+<p>There was a murmur of interest. Judge Shattuck, dignified, a
+trifle ponderous, came forward, spectacles in hand. He put them on,
+surveyed his clients with distaste, and took his place composedly
+at the table. Hall McAllister, dapper, young and something of a
+dandy, advanced with less assurance. He would have preferred the
+other side of the case, for he did not like running counter to the
+people.</p>
+<p>Amid a stir the prisoners were led forward to the dock. Judge
+Spence, looking down at them over his spectacles, read the charges.
+"Are you guilty or not guilty?" he asked.</p>
+<p>Windred, the younger, with a frightened glance about the court
+room, murmured almost inaudibly, "Not guilty." The other, in a deep
+and penetrating voice, began a sort of speech. It was incoherent,
+agonized. Benito thought it held a semblance of sincerity.</p>
+<p>"Always, your honor," he declared, "I am mistaken for that
+scoundrel; that Stuart.... I am a decent man ... but what is the
+use? I say it's terrible...."</p>
+<p>"Judge" Spence removed his eyeglasses and wiped them nervously;
+"does anyone in the courtroom recognize this man as Thomas
+Berdue?"</p>
+<p>There was silence. Then a hand rose. "I do," said the voice of a
+waterfront merchant. "I've done business with him under that
+name."</p>
+<p>Immediately there was an uproar. "A confederate," cried voices.
+"Put him out." A woman's voice in the background shrieked out
+shrilly, "Hang him, too!"</p>
+<p>McAllister rose. "There must be order here," he said,
+commandingly and the tumult subsided. McAllister addressed Berdue's
+sponsor. "Can you bring anyone else to corroborate your
+testimony?"</p>
+<p>The merchant, red and angry, cried: "It's nothing to me; hang
+him and be damned--if you don't want the truth. I'm not looking for
+trouble." He turned away but the prisoner called to him piteously.
+"Don't desert me. Find Jones or Murphy down at the long wharf.
+They'll identify me.... Hurry! Hurry! ... or they'll string me
+up!"</p>
+<p>"All right," agreed the other reluctantly. He left the court
+room and Judge Shattuck moved a postponement of the case.</p>
+<p>"Your honor," William Coleman now addressed the court, "this is
+no ordinary trial. Ten thousand people are around this courthouse.
+They are there because the public patience with legal decorum is
+exhausted; however regular and reasonable my colleague's plea might
+be in ordinary circumstances, I warn you that to grant it will
+provoke disorder."</p>
+<p>Judge Shattuck, startled, glanced out of the window and
+conferred with Hall McAllister.</p>
+<p>"I withdraw my petition," he said hurriedly. The case went
+on.</p>
+<p>Witnesses who were present when the prisoners were identified by
+Jansen gave their testimony. There was little cross-examination,
+though McAllister established Jansen's incomplete recovery of his
+mental faculties when the men were brought before him. Coleman
+pointed out the striking appearance of the older prisoner; there
+was little chance to err he claimed in such a case. The record of
+James Stuart was then dwelt upon; a history black with evil doing,
+red with blood. The jury retired with the sinister determined faces
+of men who have made up their minds.</p>
+<p>Meanwhile, outside, the crowd stood waiting, none too patiently.
+Now and then a messenger came to the balcony and shouted out the
+latest aspect of the drama being enacted inside. The word was
+caught up by the first auditor, passed along to right and left
+until the whole throng knew and speculated on each bit of
+information.</p>
+<p>Adrian, caught in the outer eddies of that human maelstrom,
+found himself beside Juana Briones. "The jury's out," she told him.
+"Jury's out!" the word swept onward. Then there came a long and
+silent wait. Once again the messenger appeared. "Still out," he
+bellowed, "having trouble." "What's the matter with them?" a score
+of voices shouted. Presently the messenger returned. His face was
+angry, almost apoplectic. One could see that he was having
+difficulty with articulation. He waved his hands in a gesture of
+impotent wrath. At last he found his voice and shouted, "Disagreed.
+The jury's disagreed."</p>
+<p>An uproar followed. "Hang the jury!" cried an irate voice. A
+rush was made for the entrance. But two hundred armed, determined
+men opposed the onslaught. The very magnitude of the human press
+defeated its own ends. Men cried aloud that they were being
+crushed. Women screamed.</p>
+<p>Soon or late the defenders must have fallen. But now a strange
+diversion occurred. On the balcony appeared General Baker, noted as
+the city's greatest orator. In his rich, sonorous tones, he began a
+political speech. It rang even above the excited shouts of the mob.
+Instantly there was a pause, an almost imperceptible let-down of
+the tension. Those who could not see asked eagerly of others,
+"What's the matter now? Who's talking?"</p>
+<p>"It's Ed Baker making a speech."</p>
+<p>Someone laughed. A voice roared. "Rah for Ed Baker." Others took
+it up.</p>
+<p>Impulsive, variable as the wind, San Francisco found a new
+adventure. It listened spellbound to golden eloquence, extolling
+the virtues of a favored candidate. Meanwhile Acting Sheriff Townes
+rushed his prisoners to the county jail without anyone so much as
+noticing their departure.</p>
+<p>Presently three men came hurrying up and with difficulty made
+their way into the court room.</p>
+<p>"Good God! Are we too late?" the leader of the trio asked,
+excitedly. He was the waterfront merchant who had recognized
+Berdue.</p>
+<p>"Too late for the trial," returned Coleman; "it's over; the
+jury's dismissed. Disagreed."</p>
+<p>"And what are they doing outside?" cried the other, "are they
+hanging the prisoners?"</p>
+<p>"No, the prisoners are safe," returned Coleman, "though they had
+a close enough shave, I'll admit." He laid a hand upon Benito's
+shoulder and there came a twinkle to his eyes. "Our young friend
+here had an inspiration--better than a hundred muskets. He sent Ed
+Baker out to charm them with his tongue."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII</h2>
+<h3>THE RECKONING</h3>
+<br>
+<p>It was June on the rancho Windham. Roses and honeysuckle climbed
+the pillars and lattices of the patio; lupin and golden poppies
+dotted the hillsides. Cloud-plumes waved across the faultless azure
+of a California summer sky and distant to the north and east, a
+million spangled flecks of sunlight danced upon the bay.</p>
+<p>David Broderick sat on a rustic bench, his eyes on Alice
+Windham. He thought, with a vague stirring of unrecognized emotion
+that she seemed the spirit of womanhood in the body of a fay.</p>
+<p>"A flower for your thoughts," she paraphrased and tossed him a
+rose. Instinctively he pressed it to his lips. He saw her color
+rise and turned away. For a moment neither spoke.</p>
+<p>"My thoughts," he said at length, "have been of evil men and
+trickery and ambition. I realize that, always, when I come
+here--when I see you, Alice Windham. For a little time I am
+uplifted. Then I go back to my devious toiling in the dark."</p>
+<p>A shadow crossed her eyes, but a smile quickly chased it away.
+"You are a fine man, David Broderick," she said, "brave and
+wonderful and strong. Why do you stoop to--"</p>
+<p>"To petty politics?" his answering smile was rueful. "Because I
+must--to gain my ends. To climb a hill-top often one must go into a
+valley. That is life."</p>
+<p>"No, that is sophistry," her clear, straight glance was on him
+searchingly. "You tell me that a statesman must be first a
+politician; that a politician must consort with rowdies, ballot-box
+stuffers, gamblers--even thieves. David Broderick, you're wrong.
+Women have their intuitions which are often truer than men's
+logic." She leaned forward, laid a hand half shyly on his arm. "I
+know this much, my friend: As surely as you climb your ladder with
+the help of evil forces, just so surely will they pull you
+down."</p>
+<p>It was thus that Benito came upon them. "Scolding Dave again?"
+He questioned merrily, "What has our Lieutenant-Governor been doing
+now?"</p>
+<p>"Consorting with rowdies, gamblers, ballot-box stuffers--not to
+mention thieves, 'twould seem," said Broderick with a forced laugh.
+Alice Windham's eyes looked hurt. "He has accused himself," she
+said with haste.</p>
+<p>"You're always your own worst critic, Dave," Benito said. "I
+want to tell you something: The Vigilance Committee forms this
+afternoon."</p>
+<p>The other's eyes flashed. "What is that to me?" he asked, with
+some asperity.</p>
+<p>"Only this," retorted Windham. "The committee means business;
+it's going to clean up the town--" Broderick made as if to speak
+but checked his utterance. Benito went on: "I tell you, Dave, you
+had better cut loose from your crowd. Some of them are going to get
+into trouble. You can't afford to have them running to you--calling
+you their master."</p>
+<p>He took from his pocket a folded paper. "We've been drafting a
+constitution, Hall McAllister and I." He read the rather
+stereotyped beginning. Broderick displayed small interest until
+Benito reached the conclusion:</p>
+<blockquote>WE ARE DETERMINED THAT NO THIEF, BURGLAR, INCENDIARY OR
+ASSASSIN SHALL ESCAPE PUNISHMENT EITHER BY THE QUIBBLES OF THE LAW,
+THE INSECURITY OF PRISONS, THE CARELESSNESS AND CORRUPTION OF
+POLICE OR A LAXITY OF THOSE WHO PRETEND TO ADMINISTER
+JUSTICE.</blockquote>
+<br>
+<p>"And do you mean," asked Broderick, "that these men will take
+the law into their own hands; that they'll apprehend so-called
+criminals and presume to mete out punishment according to their own
+ideas of justice?"</p>
+<p>"I mean just that," returned Benito.</p>
+<p>"Why--it's extraordinary," Broderick objected. "It's mob
+law--organized banditti."</p>
+<p>"You'll find it nothing of the sort," cried Windham hotly.</p>
+<p>"How can it be otherwise?' asked Broderick. What's to prevent
+rascals taking advantage of such a movement--running it to suit
+themselves? They're much cleverer than honest, men; more
+powerful.... Else do you think I'd use my political machine? No,
+no, Benito, this is farce--disaster."</p>
+<p>"Read this, then," urged Benito, and he thrust into the other's
+hand a list of some two hundred names. Broderick perused it with
+growing gravity. It represented the flower of San Francisco's
+business and professional aristocracy, men of all political creeds,
+religious, social affiliations.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>A few days afterward Broderick conferred with his lieutenants.
+Word went forth that he had cut his leading strings to city
+politics. Rumors of a storm were in the air. When it would break no
+one could say with certainty. The Committee of Vigilance had
+quietly established quarters on Battery street near Pine, where
+several secret meetings had been held and officers elected. These
+were not made known. Members were designated by numerals instead of
+names. Some said they wore masks but this was an unproven
+rumor.</p>
+<p>Broderick, brooding on these things one afternoon, was suddenly
+aware of many people running. He descried a man hastening down Long
+Wharf toward the bay. "Stop thief!" some one shouted. Others took
+it up. Broderick found himself running, too, over the loose boards
+of the wharf, in pursuit of the fleeing figure. The fugitive ran
+rapidly, despite a large burden slung over his shoulder. Presently
+he disappeared from view. But soon they glimpsed him in a boat,
+rowing lustily away.</p>
+<p>A dozen boats set out in chase. Shots rang out. "He's thrown his
+bundle in the water," someone cried. "He's diving," called another.
+A silence, then "We've got him," came a hail exultingly.</p>
+<p>Ere long a dripping figure surrounded by half a dozen captors,
+was brought upon the wharf. "He stole a safe from Virgin &amp;
+Co.," Broderick was told. "The Vigilantes have him. They'll hang
+him probably. Come along and see the show."</p>
+<p>"But where are the police?" asked Broderick. The man laughed
+contemptuously. "Where they always are--asleep," he answered, and
+went on.</p>
+<p>Others brought the news that John Jenkins, an Australian
+convict, was the prisoner. He had several times escaped the
+clutches of the "law." He seemed to treat the whole proceeding as a
+bit of horseplay, joking profanely with his captors, boasting of
+his crimes.</p>
+<p>At 10 o'clock the Monumental fire bell struck several deep-toned
+notes and fifteen minutes later eighty members of the Vigilance
+Committee had assembled. The door was locked. A constable from the
+police department knocked upon it long without avail. Everything
+was very still about the building; even the crowd which gathered
+there to await developments conversed in whispers.</p>
+<p>At midnight several cloaked forms emerged, walking rapidly up
+the street. Then the California fire engine bell began to toll.
+James King of William, a local banker, leaving Vigilante quarters
+almost collided with Broderick. "What does that mean?" the latter
+asked; he pointed to the tolling bell.</p>
+<p>"It means," King answered, solemnly, "that Jenkins is condemned
+to death. He'll be executed on the Plaza in an hour."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV</h2>
+<h3>THE HANGING OF JENKINS</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Mayor Brenham pushed his way forward. "Did I understand you
+rightly, Mr. King?" he questioned. "This committee means to lynch a
+man--to murder him?"</p>
+<p>King turned upon him fiery-eyed. "I might accuse you of a
+hundred murders, sir, with much more justice. Where are your police
+when our citizens are slain? What are your courts but strongholds
+of political iniquity?" He raised his arm and with a dramatic
+gesture, pointed toward the city hall. "Go, Mayor Brenham, rouse
+your jackals of pretended law.... The people have risen. At the
+Plaza in an hour you shall see what Justice means."</p>
+<p>Several voices cheered. Brenham, overwhelmed, inarticulate
+before this outburst, turned and strode away. Broderick walked on
+thoughtfully. It was evident that the people were aroused past
+curbing. As he neared the city hall, Constable Charles Elleard
+approached him anxiously.</p>
+<p>"There's going to be trouble, isn't there?" he asked. "What
+shall we do? We've less than a hundred men, Mr. Broderick. Perhaps
+we could get fifty more."</p>
+<p>"Whatever happens, don't use firearms," Broderick cautioned.
+"One shot will set the town afire tonight." He came closer to the
+officer and whispered, "Make a show of interference, that's all....
+If possible see that Sheriff Hayes' pistols don't go off.... You
+understand? I know what's best."</p>
+<p>Elleard nodded. Broderick went on. Soon he heard the tramp of
+many feet. A procession headed by men bearing torches, was
+proceeding down the street toward the Plaza. As they neared he saw
+Jenkins, hands tied behind his back, striding along in the midst of
+his captors. A rope was about his neck; it extended for a hundred
+feet behind him, upheld by many hands.</p>
+<p>Diagonally across the Plaza the procession streamed. At the
+flagstaff a halt was made. Samuel Brannan mounted a sand-heap and
+addressed the crowd.</p>
+<p>"I have been deputed by the Vigilance Committee," he began, "to
+tell you that John Jenkins has been fairly tried; he was proven
+guilty of grand larceny and other crimes." He paused dramatically.
+"The sentence of the People's Court is death through hanging by the
+neck. It will be executed here at once, with your approval. All who
+are in favor of the committee's action, will say 'Aye.'"</p>
+<p>"Aye! Aye!" came a thunder of voices, mingled with a few
+desultory "noes." Sheriff Jack Hayes rode up importantly on his
+prancing black charger. "In the name of the law I command this
+proceeding to cease."</p>
+<p>"In the name of what law?" mocked Brannan, "the law you've been
+giving us for six months past?"</p>
+<p>A roar of laughter greeted this retort. The sheriff, red-faced,
+held up a hand for silence. "I demand the prisoner," he
+shouted.</p>
+<p>Instantly there was a quiet order. Fifty men in soldierly
+formation surrounded Jenkins. "Take him, then," a voice said
+pleasantly. It was William Coleman's. The guards of the forward
+ranks threw back their cloaks, revealing a score of business-like
+short-barrelled shotguns.</p>
+<p>Before this show of force, the gallant Hayes retreated, baffled.
+He was a former Texan ranger, fearless to a fault; but he was wise
+enough to know when he was beaten.</p>
+<p>"I've orders not to shoot," he said, "but I warn you that all
+who participate in this man's hanging will be liable for
+murder."</p>
+<p>Again came Brannan's sneer. "If we're as safe as the last
+hundred men that took human life in this town, we've nothing to
+fear." Again a chorus of derision. The sheriff turned, outraged, on
+his tormentor. "You shall hear from me, sir," he said indignantly,
+and wheeling his horse, he rode off.</p>
+<p>"String him up on the flagpole," suggested a bystander. But this
+was cried down with indignation. Several members who had been
+investigating now advanced with the recommendation that the hanging
+take place at the south-end of the old Custom House.</p>
+<p>"We can throw the rope over a beam," cried a tall man. He was
+one of those who had pursued and caught Jenkins on the bay. Now he
+seized the rope and called, "Come on, boys."</p>
+<p>There was a rush toward the southwest corner of the Plaza, so
+sudden that the hapless prisoner was jerked off his feet and
+dragged over the ground. When the improvised gallows was reached he
+was half strangled, could not stand. Several men supported him
+while others tossed the rope across the beam. Then, with a shout,
+he was jerked from his feet into space. His dangling figure jerked
+convulsively for a time, hung limp.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>After the inquest Brannan met William Coleman at Vigilante
+headquarters. "They were very hostile," he declared; "the political
+gang is hot on our trail. They questioned me as to the names on our
+committee. I told them we went by numbers only," he laughed.</p>
+<p>"There have been threats, veiled and open," said Coleman,
+soberly. "King has lost several good banking accounts and my
+business has fallen off noticeably. Friends have advised me to quit
+the committee--or worse things might happen."</p>
+<p>Brannan took a folded paper from his pocket; it was a printed
+scrawl unsigned, which read:</p>
+<p>"Beware; or your house will be burned. We mean business."</p>
+<p>A newsboy hurried down the street crying an extra on the
+inquest. Brannan snatched one from his hand and the two men perused
+it eagerly. The finding, couched in usual verbiage, recited the
+obvious facts that Jenkins, alias Simpson, perished by
+strangulation and that "an association of citizens styling
+themselves a Committee of Vigilance," was responsible.</p>
+<p>"Eight of us are implicated, besides myself," said Brannan
+finally, "they'll start proceedings probably at once."</p>
+<p>"And they'll have the courts to back their dirty work," added
+Coleman, thoughtfully. "That will never do," his teeth shut with a
+little click. "I'm going to the <i>Herald</i> office."</p>
+<p>"What for?" asked Brannan, quickly.</p>
+<p>"To publish the full list of names," Coleman responded. "We're
+all in this together; no group must bear the brunt."</p>
+<p>"But," objected Brannan, "is that wise?"</p>
+<p>"Of course.... in union there is strength. These crooks will
+hesitate to fight two hundred leading citizens; if they know them
+all they can't pick out a few for persecution."</p>
+<p>"Well, I'll go along," said Brannan. "Eh, what's that? What's
+happened now?"</p>
+<p>The Monumental engine bell was tolling violently. Coleman
+listened. "Its not a fire," he declared, "it's the Vigilante
+signal. We'll wait here."</p>
+<p>A man came running toward them from the bay. "They've captured
+James Stuart," he shouted. "Bludgeoned a captain on his ship but
+the man's wife held on to him and yelled till rescue came."</p>
+<p>"But Stuart's in the Auburn jail, awaiting execution for the
+murder of the sheriff," Coleman said bewildered.</p>
+<p>"No," cried the man, "this is the real one. The other's Tom
+Berdue, his double."</p>
+<p>"Then there'll be another hanging," Coleman muttered.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV</h2>
+<h3>THE PEOPLE AND THE LAW</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Frightened, desperate, angered by the usurpation of their power,
+varied forces combined in opposition to the Vigilance Committee.
+Political office-holders, good and bad, were naturally arrayed
+against it, and for the first time made a common cause. Among the
+politicians were many men of brains, especially those affiliated
+with the "Chivalry" faction, as it was known--Southern men whose
+object it was to introduce slavery into California. These were
+fiery, fearless, eloquent and quick at stratagem. There was also
+Broderick's Tammany organization, an almost perfect political
+machine, though as yet in the formative stage. There was the tacit
+union of the underworld; gamblers, thieves, plug-uglies, servitors
+of or parasites upon the stronger factions. Each and all they
+feared and hated this new order of the Vigilantes.</p>
+<p>Coleman's scheme of publishing the names of the entire committee
+was carried out after a meeting of the executive committee. It had
+the effect of taking the wind out of their opponents' sails for a
+time. But it also robbed committee members of a certain security.
+In a dozen dark and devious ways the Vigilantes were harassed,
+opposed; windows of shops were broken; men returning to their homes
+were set upon from ambush; long-standing business accounts were
+diverted or withdrawn. Even socially the feud was felt. For the
+Southerners were more or less the arbiters of society. Wives of
+Vigilante members were struck from invitation lists in important
+affairs. Whispers came to them that if their husbands were
+persuaded to withdraw, all would be well.</p>
+<p>A few, indeed, did hand their resignations to the committee, but
+more set their names with eagerness upon its roster.</p>
+<p>The hanging of James Stuart was impressive and conducted with
+extreme decorum. Stuart, tried before twelve regularly impaneled
+talesmen and defended by an advocate, cut matters short by a
+voluntary confession of his crimes. In fact, he boasted of them
+with a curious pride. Arson, murder, robbery, he admitted with a
+lavishness which first aroused a doubt as to his sanity and truth,
+but when in many of the cases he recited details which were later
+verified, all doubt as to his evil triumphs vanished.</p>
+<p>On the morning of July 11 he was sentenced. In the afternoon his
+body swung from a waterfront derrick at Battery and Market
+streets.</p>
+<p>"Get it over with," he urged his executioners, "this 'ere's
+damned tiresome business for a gentleman." He begged a "quid o'
+terbacker" from one of the guards and chewed upon it stolidly until
+the noose tightened about his neck. He did not struggle much. A
+vagrant wind blew off his hat and gently stirred his long and wavy
+hair.</p>
+<p>When Benito next saw Broderick he asked the latter anxiously if
+all were well with him. The latter answered with a wry smile, "I
+suppose so. I have not been ordered to leave town so far."</p>
+<p>"You've remembered what we told you--Alice and I?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," said Broderick, "and it was good advice. Tell your wife
+for me that woman's intuition sometimes sees more clearly than
+man's cunning.... It is nearer God and truth," he added,
+softly.</p>
+<p>"I shall tell her that. 'Twill please her," Benito replied. "You
+must come to see us soon."</p>
+<p>Brannan joined them rather anxiously and drew Benito aside with
+a brusque apology. "Do you know that Governor McDougall has issued
+a proclamation condemning the Vigilance Committee?... I happen to
+know that Broderick inspired this." He gave a covert glance over
+his shoulder, but the Lieutenant-Governor had wandered off. "So far
+he's taken no part against us. And we've left him alone. Now we
+shall strike back."</p>
+<p>"I shall advise against it," Windham objected. "Dave is honest.
+He's played fair."</p>
+<p>"If you think we're going to let this pass, you're quite
+mistaken," Brannan answered, hotly. "Why, its not long ago that
+Governor McDougall came to our committee room and commended our
+work. Said he hoped we'd go on."</p>
+<p>"Exactly," said Benito, "in the presence of witnesses. Let us
+see if King and Coleman are inside. I have a plan."</p>
+<p>They found their tall and quiet leader with James King of
+William and half a dozen others already in session. Brannan, in
+fiery anger, read the Governor's proclamation. There was silence
+when he finished. Possibly a shade of consternation. "Windham's got
+a scheme to answer him," said Brannan.</p>
+<p>That day the <i>Evening Picayune</i> printed the Committee's
+defn. It was as follows:</p>
+<br>
+<blockquote>San Francisco, Aug. 20, 1851.<br>
+<br>
+"We, the undersigned, do hereby aver that Governor McDougall asked
+to be introduced to the executive committee of the Committee of
+Vigilance, which was allowed and hour fixed. The Governor, upon
+being introduced, states THAT HE APPROVED OF THE ACTS OF THE
+COMMITTEE and that much good had taken place. He HOPED THEY WOULD
+GO ON and endeavor to act in concert with the authorities, AND IN
+CASE ANY JUDGE WAS GUILTY OF MAL-ADMINISTRATION TO HANG HIM and he
+would appoint others."</blockquote>
+<br>
+<p>To this was appended the names of reputable citizens--men whose
+statements no one doubted. It was generally conceded, with a laugh,
+that Governor McDougall's private opinion differed from his sense
+of public duty.</p>
+<p>That afternoon representatives of the Committee met an incoming
+vessel and examined the credentials of all passengers. Several of
+these not proving up to standard, they were denied admittance to
+the port. The outraged captain blustered and refused to take them
+back to Sydney. But in the end he agreed. There was nothing else to
+do. A guard was placed on the non-desirables and maintained until
+the vessel cleared--until the pilot boat returned in fact. San
+Francisco applauded.</p>
+<p>But all the laurels were not with the Committee. On Thursday
+morning, August 21, Sheriff Hayes surprised Vigilante Headquarters
+at dawn and captured Samuel Whitaker and Robert McKenzie both
+convicted of murder by the Committee and sentenced to hang.</p>
+<p>The City Government was much elated but the victory was short.
+For, on the following Sunday, Vigilantes gained an entrance to the
+jail and took their prisoners back without a struggle.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Broderick and Windham, en route to the latter's ranch that
+afternoon, heard the Monumental bell toll slowly, solemnly. "What's
+up?" asked Broderick, startled.</p>
+<p>"It means," Benito answered, "that the Vigilance Committee still
+rules. Two more scoundrels have been punished."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI</h2>
+<h3>FEVERS OF FINANCE</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Four years had passed since the Vigilance Committee ceased
+active labors. Some said they preserved a tacit organization;
+theirs was still a name to conjure with among evil doers, but San
+Francisco, grown into a city of some 50,000, was more dignified and
+subtle in its wickedness. Politics continued notoriously bad.
+Comedians in the new Metropolitan Theatre made jokes about
+ballot-boxes said to have false bottoms, and public officials who
+had taken their degrees in "political economy" at Sing Sing.</p>
+<p>"Honest Harry" Meiggs and his brother, the newly-elected City
+Controller, had sailed away on the yacht "American," leaving behind
+them an unpaid-for 2000-foot wharf and close to a million in debts;
+forged city warrants and promissory notes were held by practically
+every large business house in San Francisco.</p>
+<p>It was concerning this urbane and gifted prince of swindlers
+that Adrian Stanley talked with William Sherman, manager of the
+banking house of Turner, Lucas &amp; Company.</p>
+<p>Sherman, once a lieutenant in the United States Army, had
+returned, after an Eastern trip, as a civilian financier. In behalf
+of St. Louis employers, he had purchased of James Lick a lot at
+Jackson and Montgomery streets, erecting thereon a $50,000
+fire-proof building. The bank occupied the lower floor; a number of
+professional men had their offices on the second floor; on the
+third James P. Casey, Supervisor, journalist and politician,
+maintained the offices of <i>The Sunday Times</i>. He passed the
+two men as they stood in front of the bank and shouted a boisterous
+"hello." Adrian, ever courteous and good-natured, responded with a
+wave of the hand while Sherman, brusk and curt, as a habit of
+nature and military training, vouchsafed him a short nod.</p>
+<p>"I have small use for that fellow," he remarked to Stanley,
+"even less than I had for Meiggs." The other had something
+impressive about him, something almost Napoleonic, in spite of his
+dishonesty. If business had maintained the upward trend of '51 and
+'52, Meiggs would have been a millionaire and people would have
+honored him--"</p>
+<p>"You never trusted 'Honest Harry,' did you?" Stanley asked.</p>
+<p>"No," said Sherman, "not for the amount he asked. I was the only
+banker here that didn't break his neck to give the fellow credit. I
+rather liked him, though. But this fellow upstairs," he snapped his
+fingers, "some day I shall order him out of my building."</p>
+<p>"Why?" asked Adrian curiously. "Because of his--"</p>
+<p>"His alleged prison record?" Sherman finished. "No. For many a
+good man's served his term." He shrugged. "I can't just tell you
+why I feel like that toward Jim Casey. He's no worse than the rest
+of his clan; the city government's rotten straight through except
+for a few honest judges and they're helpless before the quibbles
+and intricacies of law." He took the long black cigar from his
+mouth and regarded Adrian with his curious concentration--that
+force of purpose which was one day to list William Tecumseh Sherman
+among the world's great generals. "There's going to be the devil to
+pay, my young friend," he said, frowning, "between corruption,
+sectional feuds and business depression ..."</p>
+<p>"What about the report that Page, Bacon &amp; Company's St.
+Louis house has failed?" said Stanley in an undertone. Sherman eyed
+him sharply. "Where'd you hear that?" he shot back. And then, ere
+Adrian could answer, he inquired, "Have you much on deposit
+there?"</p>
+<p>"Ten thousand," replied the young contractor.</p>
+<p>For a moment Sherman remained silent, twisting the long cigar
+about between grim lips. Then he put a hand abruptly on the other's
+shoulder. "Take it out," he said, "today."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Somewhat later Sherman was summoned to a conference with Henry
+Haight, manager of the banking house in question, and young Page of
+the Sacramento branch. He emerged with a clouded brow, puffing
+furiously at his cigar. As he passed through the bank, Sherman
+noted an unusual line of men, interspersed with an occasional
+woman, waiting their turn for the paying teller's service. The man
+was counting out gold and silver feverishly. There was whispering
+among the file of waiters. To him the thing had an ominous
+look.</p>
+<p>He stopped for a moment at the bank of Adams &amp; Company.
+There also the number of people withdrawing deposits was unusual;
+the receiving teller's window was neglected. James King of William,
+who, since the closing of his own bank, had been Adams &amp;
+Company's manager, came forward and drew Sherman aside. "What do
+you think of the prospect?" he asked. "Few of us can stand a run.
+We're perfectly solvent, but if this excitement spreads it means
+ruin for the house--for every bank in town perhaps."</p>
+<p>"Haight's drunk," said Sherman tersely. "Page is silly with
+fear. I went over to help them ... but it's no use. They're
+gone."</p>
+<p>King's bearded face was pale, but his eyes were steady. "I'm
+sorry," he said, "that makes it harder for us all." He smiled
+mirthlessly. "You're better off than we ... with our country
+branches. If anything goes wrong here, our agents will be blamed.
+There may be bloodshed even." He held out his hand and Sherman
+gripped it. "Good luck," the latter said, "we'll stand together,
+far as possible."</p>
+<p>As Sherman left the second counting house, he noted how the line
+had grown before the paying teller's window. It extended now
+outside the door. At Palmer, Cook &amp; Company's and Naglee's
+banks it was the same. The human queue, which issued from the doors
+of Page, Bacon &amp; Company, now reached around the corner. It was
+growing turbulent. Women tried to force themselves between the
+close-packed file and were repelled. One of these was Sherman's
+washwoman. She clutched his coat-tails as he hurried by.</p>
+<p>"My God, sir!" she wailed, "they've my money; the savings of
+years. And now they say it's gone ... that Haight's gambled ...
+spent it on women ..."</p>
+<p>Sherman tried to quiet her and was beset by others. "How's your
+bank?" people shouted at him. "How's Lucas-Turner?"</p>
+<p>"Sound as a dollar," he told them; "come and get your money when
+you please; it's there waiting for you."</p>
+<p>But his heart was heavy with foreboding as he entered his own
+bank. Here the line was somewhat shorter than at most of the
+others, but still sufficiently long to cause dismay. Sherman passed
+behind the counter and conferred with his assistant.</p>
+<p>"We close in half an hour--at three o'clock," he said. "That
+will give us a breathing spell. Tomorrow comes the test. By then
+the town will know of Page-Bacon's failure ..."</p>
+<p>He beckoned to the head accountant, who came hurriedly, a quill
+pen bobbing behind his ear, his tall figure bent from stooping over
+ledgers.</p>
+<p>"How much will we require to withstand a day's run?" Sherman
+flung the question at him like a thunderbolt. And almost as though
+the impact of some verbal missile had deprived him of speech, the
+man stopped, stammering.</p>
+<p>"I--I--I think, s-s-sir," he gulped and recovered himself with
+an effort, "f-forty thousand will do it."</p>
+<p>Swiftly Sherman turned toward the door. "Where are you going?"
+the assistant called.</p>
+<p>"To get forty thousand dollars--if I have to turn highwayman,"
+Sherman flung over his shoulder.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII</h2>
+<h3>"GIVE US OUR SAVINGS!"</h3>
+<br>
+<p>As he left the bank Sherman cast over in his mind with desperate
+swiftness the list of men to whom he could go for financial
+support. Turner, Lucas &amp; Co. had loaned Captain Folsom $25,000
+on his two late ventures, the Metropolitan Theatre and the Tehama
+House. Both, under normal conditions, would have made their
+promoter rich. But nothing was at par these days.</p>
+<p>Sherman wondered uneasily whether Folsom could help. He was not
+a man to save money, and the banker, who made it his business to
+know what borrowers of the bank's money did, knew that Folsom liked
+gambling, frequented places where the stakes ran high. Of late he
+had met heavy losses. However, he was a big man, Sherman reasoned;
+he should have large resources. Both of them were former army
+officers. That should prove a bond between them. At Captain
+Folsom's house an old negro servant opened the door, his wrinkled
+black face anxious.</p>
+<p>"Mars Joe, he ain't right well dis evenin'," he said, evasively,
+but when Sherman persisted he was ushered into a back room where
+sat the redoubtable captain, all the fierceness of his burnside
+whiskers, the austerity of his West Point manner, melted in the
+indignity of sneezes and wheezes.</p>
+<p>Sherman looked at him in frank dismay.</p>
+<p>"Heavens, man," he said, "I'm sorry to intrude on you in this
+condition ... but my errand won't wait...."</p>
+<p>"What do you want, Bill Sherman?" the sick man glowered.</p>
+<p>"Money," Sherman answered crisply. "You know, perhaps, that
+Page, Bacon &amp; Co. have failed. Everyone's afraid of his
+deposits. We've got to have cash tomorrow. How about your--?"</p>
+<p>With a cry of irritation Folsom threw up his hands. "Money! God
+Almighty! Sherman, there's not a loose dollar in town. My agent,
+Van Winkle, has walked his legs off, talked himself hoarse.... He
+can't get anything. It's impossible."</p>
+<p>"Then you can do nothing?"</p>
+<p>For answer Folsom broke into a torrent of sneezes and coughs.
+The old negro came running. Sherman shook his head and left the
+room.</p>
+<p>There remained Major Hammond, collector of the port, two of
+whose notes the bank held.</p>
+<p>He and Sherman were not over-friendly; yet Hammond must be
+asked. Sherman made his way to the customs house briskly, stated
+his business to the doorkeeper and sat down in an anteroom to await
+Hammond's pleasure. There he cooled his heels for a considerable
+period before he was summoned to an inner office.</p>
+<p>"Well, Sherman," he asked, not ungraciously, "what can I do for
+you?"</p>
+<p>"You can take up one of your notes with our bank," replied
+Sherman, without ado. "We need cash desperately."</p>
+<p>"'Fraid of a run, eh?"</p>
+<p>"Not afraid, no. But preparing for it."</p>
+<p>The other nodded his approval. "Quite right! quite right!" he
+said with unexpected warmth.... "So you'd like me to cash one of my
+notes, Mr. Sherman?"</p>
+<p>"Why, yes, sir, if it wouldn't inconvenience you," the banker
+answered, "it would aid us greatly." He looked into the collector's
+keen, inquiring eyes, then added: "I may as well say quite frankly,
+Mr. Hammond, you're our last resort."</p>
+<p>"Then why"--the other's smile was whimsical--"then why not both
+of my notes?"</p>
+<br>
+<a name="page182.jpg"></a>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/page182.jpg" width="85%" alt=
+""><br>
+<b>There sat the redoubtable captain, all the ... austerity of his
+West Point manner melted in the indignity of sneezes and
+wheezes.... "Money! God Almighty! Sherman, there's not a loose
+dollar in town."</b></p>
+<br>
+<p>"Do you mean it?" Sherman asked breathlessly.</p>
+<p>By way of answer Hammond drew a book of printed forms toward
+him. Calmly, leisurely, he wrote several lines; tore a long, narrow
+strip from the book and handed it to Sherman.</p>
+<p>"Here's my check for $40,000 on the United States Treasurer. He
+will cash it in gold. Never mind, don't thank me, this is purely
+business. I know what's up, young man. I can't see your people go
+under. Good day!"</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Ten o'clock on the following morning. Hundreds of people lined
+up before the doors of San Francisco banks. Men of all classes;
+top-hatted merchants rubbed elbows with red-shirted miners, Irish
+laborers smoking clay pipes, Mexican vaqueros, roustabouts from the
+docks, gamblers, bartenders, lawyers, doctors, politicians. Here
+and there one saw women with children in their arms or holding them
+by the hand. They pressed shoulder to shoulder. Those at the head
+had their noses almost against the glass. Inside of the counting
+houses men with pale, harried faces stood behind their grilled iron
+wickets, wondering how long the pile of silver and gold within
+their reach would stay that clamorous human tide. Doors swung back
+and it swept in, a great wave, almost overturning the janitors.</p>
+<p>The cashier and assistant manager of Lucas &amp; Co. watched
+nervously, the former now and then running his fingers through his
+sparse hair; the assistant manager at intervals retired to a back
+room where he consulted a decanter and a tall glass. Frequently he
+summoned the bookkeeper. "How's the money lasting?" he would
+inquire almost in a whisper, and the other answered, "Still holding
+out."</p>
+<p>But now the assistant manager saw that the cash on hand was
+almost exhausted. He was afraid to ask the bookkeeper any more
+questions.</p>
+<p>"Where the devil's Sherman?" he snapped at the cashier. That
+official started. "Why--er--how should I know?... He was hunting
+Major Snyder this morning. He had a check from Hammond, the
+collector of the port."</p>
+<p>"Damnation!" cried the assistant manager. "Sherman ought to be
+here. He ought to talk to these people. They think he's
+skipped."</p>
+<p>He broke off hurriedly as the assistant teller came up
+trembling. "We'll have to close in ten minutes," he said. "There's
+less than $500 left." His mouth twitched. "I don't know what we'll
+do, sir, when the time comes ... and God only knows what they'll
+do."</p>
+<p>"Good God! what's that?"</p>
+<p>Some new commotion was apparent at the entrance of the bank. The
+assistant teller grasped his pistol. The line of waiting men and
+women turned, for the moment forgetting their quest. William
+Sherman, attended by two armed constables, entered the door.
+Between them the trio carried two large canvas bags, each bearing
+the imprint of the United States Treasury.</p>
+<p>Sherman halted just inside the door.</p>
+<p>"Forty thousand in gold, boys," he cried, "and plenty more where
+it came from. Turner, Lucas &amp; Co. honors every draft."</p>
+<p>His face pressed eagerly against the lattice of the paying
+teller's cage stood a little Frenchman. His hat had fallen from his
+pomaded hair; his waxed moustache bristled.</p>
+<p>"Do you mean you have ze monnaie? All ze monnaie zat we wish?"
+he asked gesticulating excitedly with his hands.</p>
+<p>"Sure," returned the teller. Sherman and his aids were carrying
+the two sacks into the back of the cage, depositing them on a
+marble shelf. "See!" The teller turned one over and a tinkling
+flood of shining golden disks poured forth.</p>
+<p>"Ah, bon! bon!" shrieked the little Frenchman, dancing up and
+down upon his high-heeled boots. "If you have ze monnaie, zen I do
+not want heem." He broke out of the line, happily humming a
+chanson. Half a dozen people laughed.</p>
+<p>"That's what I say," shouted other voices. "We don't want our
+money if it's safe."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII</h2>
+<h3>KING STARTS THE BULLETIN</h3>
+<br>
+<p>After several months of business convalescence, San Francisco
+found itself recovered from the financial chaos of February. Many
+well-known men and institutions had not stood the ordeal; some went
+down the pathway of dishonor to an irretrievable inconsequence and
+destitution; others profited by their misfortunes and still others,
+with the dauntless spirit of the time, turned halted energies or
+aspirations to fresh account. Among them was James King of
+William.</p>
+<p>The name of his father, William King, was, by an odd necessity,
+perpetuated with his own. There were many James Kings and to avert
+confusion of identities the paternal cognomen was added.</p>
+<p>In the Bank Exchange saloon, where the city's powers in
+commerce, journalism and finance were wont to congregate, King met,
+on a rainy autumn afternoon, R.D. Sinton and Jim Nesbitt. They
+hailed him jovially. Seated in the corner of an anteroom they drank
+to one another's health and listened to the raindrops pattering
+against a window.</p>
+<p>"Well, how is the auction business, Bob?" asked King.</p>
+<p>"Not so bad," the junior partner of Selover and Sinton answered.
+"Better probably than the newspaper or banking line.... Here's poor
+Jim, the keenest paragrapher in San Francisco, out of work since
+the <i>Chronicle's</i> gone to the wall. And here you are, cleaned
+out by Adams &amp; Company's careless or dishonest work--I don't
+know which."</p>
+<p>"Let's not discuss it," King said broodingly. "You know they
+wouldn't let me supervise the distribution of the money. And you
+know what my demand for an accounting brought ..."</p>
+<p>"Abuse and slander from that boughten sheet, the Alta--yes,"
+retorted Sinton. "Well, you have the consolation of knowing that no
+honest man believes it."</p>
+<p>King was silent for a moment. Then his clenched hand fell upon
+the table. "By the Eternal!" he exclaimed, with a sudden upthrust
+of the chin. "This town must have a decent paper. Do you know that
+there are seven murderers in our jail? No one will convict them and
+no editor has the courage to expose our rotten politics." He
+glanced quickly from one to the other. "Are you with me, boys? Will
+you help me to start a journal that will run our crooked officials
+and their hired plug-uglies out of town?... Sinton, last week you
+asked my advice about a good investment ... Nesbitt, you're looking
+for a berth. Well, here's an answer to you both. Let's start a
+paper--call it, say, the Evening Bulletin."</p>
+<p>Nesbitt's eyes glowed. "By the Lord Harry! it's an inspiration,
+King," he said and beckoned to a waiter to refill their glasses. "I
+know enough about our State and city politics to make a lot of
+well-known citizens hunt cover--"</p>
+<p>Sinton smiled at the journalist's ardor. "D'ye mean it, James?"
+he asked. "Every word," replied the banker. "But I can't help much
+financially," he added. "My creditors got everything."</p>
+<p>"You mean the King's treasury is empty," said Sinton, laughing
+at his pun. "Well, well, we might make it go, boys. I'm not a
+millionaire, but never mind. How much would it take?"</p>
+<p>Nesbitt answered with swift eagerness. "I know a print shop we
+can buy for a song; it's on Merchant street near Montgomery. Small
+but comfortable, and just the thing. $500 down would start us."</p>
+<p>Sinton pulled at his chin a moment. "Go ahead then," he urged.
+"I'll loan you the money."</p>
+<p>King's hand shot out to grasp the auctioneer's. "There ought to
+be 10,000 decent citizens in San Francisco who'll give us their
+support. Let's go and see the owner of that print-shop now."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>On the afternoon of October 5th, 1885, a tiny four-page paper
+made its first appearance on the streets of San Francisco.</p>
+<p>The first page, with its queer jumble of news and
+advertisements, had a novel and attractive appearance quite apart
+from the usual standards of typographical make-up. People laughed
+at King's naive editorial apology for entering an overcrowded and
+none-too-prosperous field; they nodded approvingly over his promise
+to tell the truth with fearless impartiality.</p>
+<p>William Coleman was among the first day's visitors.</p>
+<p>"Good luck to you, James King of William," he held forth a
+friendly hand. The editor, turning, rose and grasped it with
+sincere cordiality. They stood regarding each other silently. It
+seemed almost as though a prescience of what was to come lay in
+that curious communion of heart and mind.</p>
+<p>"Going after the crooks, I understand," said Coleman
+finally.</p>
+<p>"Big and little," King retorted. "That's all the paper's for. I
+don't expect to make money."</p>
+<p>"How about the Southerners, the Chivalry party? They'll
+challenge you to duels daily."</p>
+<p>"Damn the 'Chivs'." King answered. "I shall ignore their
+challenges. This duelling habit is absurd. It's grandstand
+politics; opera bouffe. They even advertise their meetings and the
+boatmen run excursions to some point where two idiots shoot wildly
+at each other for some fancied slight. No, Coleman, I'm not that
+particular kind of a fool."</p>
+<p>"Well, you'd better carry a derringer," the other warned. "There
+are Broderick's plug-uglies. They won't wait to send a
+challenge."</p>
+<p>King gave him an odd look. "I have feeling that one cannot
+change his destiny," he said. "If I am to be killed--then so be it
+... Kismet, as the Orientals say. But meanwhile I'll fight
+corruption. I'll call men by name and shout their sins from the
+housetops. We'll wake up the town, or my name isn't James King of
+William.... Won't we, James?" He clapped a hand on Nesbitt's
+shoulder. The other turned half irritably. "What? Oh, yes. To be
+sure," he answered and resumed his writing. Charles Gerberding, who
+held the title of publisher in the new enterprise, looked up from
+his ledger. "If this keeps up," he said, smiling and rubbing his
+hands, "we can enlarge the paper in a month or so." He shut the
+volume with a slam and lighted a cigar.</p>
+<p>"Hello, Coleman, how are the Vigilants? I'm told you still
+preserve a tacit organization."</p>
+<p>"More of the spirit than substance," said Coleman smiling. "I
+hope we'll not need to revive it."</p>
+<p>"Not so sure," responded Gerberding. "This man here," the cigar
+was waved in King's direction, "this editor of ours is going to set
+the town afire."</p>
+<p>Coleman did not answer. He went out ... wondering whether Isaac
+Bluxome was in town. Bluxome had served as secretary for the
+Vigilance Committee of '51.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX</h2>
+<h3>RICHARDSON AND CORA</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Business went on with at least a surface calm of new stability.
+Politics brought forth occasional eruptions, mostly twixt the
+Abolitionists and Slavery parties. Each claimed California.
+Broderick more than ever held the reins of state and city
+government. But the latter proved a fractious steed. For all his
+dauntless vigor and political astuteness, Destiny as yet withheld
+from Broderick the coveted United States senatorship. At best he
+had achieved an impasse, a dog-in-the-manger victory. By preventing
+the election of a rival he had gained little and incurred much
+censure for depriving the State of national representation. Benito
+and Alice tried to rouse him from a fit of moodiness as he dined
+with them one evening in November. Lately he had made a frequent,
+always-welcome third at their evening meal.</p>
+<p>"Cheer up, Dave," Benito rallied, as he raised a glass of wine.
+"We'll be reading your speeches in the Washington reports before
+many years have gone by. Come," he said to his wife, "let's drink
+to the future of 'The Gentleman from California.'"</p>
+<p>Broderick smiled; his glass clinked against those of his two
+companions. He gazed a moment musingly at both; then quaffed his
+liquor with a touch of haste.</p>
+<p>Alice Windham's eyes were troubled. "David," she was hesitant,
+yet earnest. "It is really necessary to associate with people such
+as--well, you know ... James Casey, Billy Mulligan, McGowan?"</p>
+<p>He answered her with a vehemence close to anger. "Politicians
+cannot choose their weapons. They must fight fire with fire ... or
+lose." For a moment the talk lagged. Then Benito, with his
+sprightly gossip, sent it rolling on. "Sherman has turned Jim Casey
+and his <i>Sunday Times</i> out of the Turner-Lucas building ...
+for attacking the banks."</p>
+<p>"He threatened to, some time ago," said Broderick.... "How goes
+it with your law, Benito?"</p>
+<p>"Well enough," said Windham, as his wife rose. She left them to
+attend the child, which had awakened. Broderick stared after her, a
+brooding hunger in his eyes. Presently, he, too, arose, and despite
+Benito's urging, departed.</p>
+<p>It was dusk when he reached the Blue Wing saloon, where "Judge"
+McGowan awaited him. A burly, forceful man, with bushy eyebrows, a
+walrus moustache perpetually tobacco-stained, and an air of
+ruthless command. "Where've you been?" he asked, impatiently, but
+did not wait for an answer. "Casey's in trouble again."</p>
+<p>"What's the matter now?" asked Broderick with a swift, half
+anxious uplift of the chin.</p>
+<p>"Oh, not his fault exactly," said the other. "Five of Gwin's men
+attacked him. Tried to kill him probably. But Jim's a tough lad. He
+laid one out, took his pistol and shot another. The rest vamoosed.
+Jim's in jail ... for disturbing the peace," he added, chuckling
+grimly.</p>
+<p>"Well, Billy Mulligan will let him out," responded Broderick.
+"If not, see Scannell. Do you need bail?" He reached into his
+pocket and took out a roll of banknotes. "You'll attend to it,
+Ned?" he asked hurriedly.</p>
+<p>"Yes, yes," returned the tall man. "That's all right.... I wish
+it hadn't happened, though. We're none too strong ... with seven
+murderers in the jail.... They'll bring up Casey's prison record at
+the examination. See if they don't."</p>
+<p>Broderick turned away.</p>
+<p>At the bar he greeted "General" Billy Richardson, deputy United
+States Marshal. They had a drink together.</p>
+<p>"James King of William's crusading with The Bulletin," said
+Richardson, "he threatens to run all the crooks out of town. It's
+making a good deal of talk."</p>
+<p>"But King's not a newspaper man," retorted Broderick, puzzled.
+"He's a banker. How's he going to run a journal? That takes
+money--experience."</p>
+<p>"Quien sabe?" Richardson vouchsafed. "Sinton of Selover and
+Sinton's his financial backer. Jim Nesbitt helps with the writing.
+You know Nesbitt, don't you? Slings a wicked pen. But King writes
+his own editorials I'm told. He's got a big job on his
+hands--cleaning up San Francisco.... You ought to know, Dave
+Broderick," he laughed meaningly. "Here's to him, anyhow."</p>
+<p>"Don't know if I should drink to that or not," Broderick
+ruminated, smiling. "May get after me. I'll take a chance, though.
+King's straight. I can always get on with a straight man." He
+raised his glass.</p>
+<p>A friend of Richardson's came up. Broderick did not know him,
+but he recognized at his side the well-groomed figure of Charles
+Cora, gambler and dandy. "Wancha t'meet Charley," said the
+introducer, unsteadily, to Richardson. "Bes' li'l man ever lived."
+Richardson held out his hand a bit reluctantly. Cora's sort were
+somewhat declass&eacute;. "Have a drink?" he invited.</p>
+<p>Broderick left them together. Later he saw Richardson quit the
+gambler's presence abruptly. The other took a few steps after him,
+then fell back with a shrug. Broderick heard the deputy-marshal
+mutter: "Too damned fresh; positively insulting," but he thought
+little of it. Richardson was apt to grow choleric while drinking.
+He often fancied himself insulted, but usually forgot it quickly.
+So Broderick merely smiled.</p>
+<p>On the following day he chanced again upon Richardson, who, to
+Broderick's astonishment, still brooded over Cora's "impudent
+remark." He did not seem to know just what it was, but the
+offensive flavor of it lingered.</p>
+<p>"Wonder where he is?" he kept repeating. "Deserves to be
+thrashed. Confound his impertinence. May do it yet."</p>
+<p>He was drinking. Broderick glanced apprehensively about. The
+gambler's sleek form was not in evidence. McGowan came in with
+Casey and Mulligan. Casey, too, had been drinking. He was in an
+evil humor, his usually jovial face sullen and vengeful.</p>
+<p>"Damn the newspapers," he exploded. "They've printed the Sing
+Sing yarn on me again. It was brought out at the arraignment."</p>
+<p>"Confound it, Broderick, haven't you any influence at all? Can't
+you keep such stuff out of type?"</p>
+<p>"Sometimes--if I know about it in advance. I'm sorry, Jim."</p>
+<p>"They tell me King of William's going to print it in the
+<i>Bulletin</i>. Better see him."</p>
+<p>"No use," put in McGowan, "that fellow's so straight (he sneered
+the word) that he leans over backward. Somebody'll fix him though
+... you'll see." The trio wandered off to Broderick's relief,
+making their exit just as Cora entered the door. The gambler
+approached Richardson. They had a drink together, some rather loud,
+conversation. Broderick feared it would develop into a quarrel, but
+evidently they patched a truce between them, for soon they went out
+arm in arm.</p>
+<p>His thought turned to Alice Windham. In a kind of reverie he
+left the Blue Wing, walking without sense of direction. It was
+getting dark; a chilling touch of fog was in the air--almost, it
+seemed to Broderick, like a premonition. On Clay, near Montgomery,
+he passed two men standing in a doorway; it was too dark to see
+their faces. Some impulse bade him stop, but he repressed it. Later
+he heard a shot, men running. But his mood was not for street
+brawls. He went on.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XL"></a>CHAPTER XL</h2>
+<h3>THE STORM GATHERS</h3>
+<br>
+<p>It was Nesbitt who told Broderick of the murder. Nesbitt, of
+whom Richardson had said the night before, "he slings a wicked
+pen."</p>
+<p>"My God, Jim, this is awful!" Broderick exclaimed. "You're sure
+there's no mistake ... I saw the two of them go out arm in
+arm."</p>
+<p>"Mistake! I wish it were," cried Nesbitt angrily. "No, poor
+Billy Richardson is dead. Cora's in jail.... They say Cora laughed
+when he went to prison with Scannell.... Scannell and Mulligan!" He
+spat out the words with a savage distaste.</p>
+<p>"Let me show you something, Dave. A reporter from the New York
+<i>Express</i> was out here gathering data--crime statistics for
+the year. He showed it to me. Listen to this: Four hundred and
+eighty-nine murders in California during ten months. Six executions
+by sheriffs, forty-six hanged by mobs; that makes fifty-two in
+all."</p>
+<p>He tapped the paper with his lean forefinger. "Probably two
+hundred of these killings were local.... And in the entire history
+of this city there's been exactly one legal execution. That was in
+1852."</p>
+<p>Broderick shook his head. "What are you going to do with that
+stuff?" asked Broderick.</p>
+<p>"Publish it in the <i>Bulletin</i>," returned Nesbitt
+decisively. "We're going to stir things up."</p>
+<p>They walked along together, Broderick's head bent in thought.
+Everywhere people were discussing the evening's tragedy. More than
+once "Judge Lynch's" name was mentioned threateningly.</p>
+<p>About the jail men swarmed, coming and going in an excited human
+tide. Some brandished fists at the unresponsive brick walls or
+called threats against Cora. As Broderick and Nesbitt passed the
+door, a handsome and richly clad woman emerged. Trickling tears had
+devastated the cosmetic smoothness of her cheeks. Her eyes looked
+frantic. But she proceeded calmly, almost haughtily to a waiting
+carriage. The driver whipped his horses and the equipage rolled on
+through a scattering crowd, some of whom shouted epithets after
+it.</p>
+<p>"That was Belle Cora, who keeps that bawdy house up town,"
+Nesbitt volunteered.</p>
+<p>"Yes," said Broderick musingly, "she seemes to take it
+hard."</p>
+<p>"She's mad about the fellow," Nesbitt waved a parting salutation
+and walked toward the Bulletin office.</p>
+<p>Broderick turned homeward, thinking of the two dark figures he
+had passed on Clay street where the killing had taken place.
+Perchance if he had stopped as he was minded, the tragedy might
+have been averted. Nobody seemed to know just how it came about.
+The thing was most unfortunate politically. King would stir up a
+hornet's nest of public opinion. Broderick reached his lodgings and
+at once retired. His sleep was fitful. He dreamed that Alice
+Windham and Sheriff Scannell were fighting for his soul.</p>
+<p>In the morning he met Benito on the plaza and the two
+encountered Colonel E.D. Baker.</p>
+<p>"I hear you're Cora's counsel," said Benito with a touch of
+disapproval.</p>
+<p>Baker looked at the young man over his spectacles. He was a big
+impressive man whose appearance as well as his words swayed juries.
+He commanded large fees. It was to Broderick rather than Benito
+that he made reply.</p>
+<p>"That Belle woman--she calls herself Mrs. Cora--came to me last
+night. By the Lord, she melted my heart. She got down on her knees.
+How she loves that gambler!... Well, I promised to defend him,
+confound it." He passed on shaking his head.</p>
+<p>"Didn't mention what his fee was," Broderick spoke
+cynically.</p>
+<p>"I'm informed he tried to give it back to her this morning,"
+said Benito. "But she wouldn't take it. Made a scene and held him
+to his honor." He laughed.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Cora's trial dragged itself into the following January on the
+slow feet of countless technicalities. Every legal subterfuge was
+exhausted by the quartet of talented and high-priced attorneys
+provided by Belle Cora's questionable fortune but unquestioned
+affection. The trial proved a feast of oratory, a mass of
+contradictory evidence. Before it began a juror named Jacob Mayer
+accused L. Sokalasky with offering him a bribe. Sokalasky, brought
+into court, denied the charge. And there it ended, save that
+thenceforth the "twelve good men and true" were exiled even from
+their families by the order of Judge Hagar. None the less it seemed
+quite evident as a morning paper cynically remarked, that the
+stable had been locked after the horses were stolen.</p>
+<p>On January 17 the Cora jury announced its inability to agree.
+The trial ended minus a conviction.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Ned McGowan, James P. Casey, Sheriff Scannell and his aid, Billy
+Mulligan, had frequent conferences in the offices of Casey's
+<i>Sunday Times</i>. Broderick held more or less aloof from his
+political subordinates these troublous days. But Charley Duane,
+former chief engineer of the fire department, was their frequent
+consort. The <i>Sunday Times</i> concentrated its fire chiefly on
+James King of William. It was his biting, unstudied verbiage that
+struck "The Federal Brigade" on the raw.</p>
+<p>Early in May the <i>Times</i> accused Thomas King, the
+<i>Bulletin</i> editor's brother, of scheming by illegal means to
+gain the office that Richardson's death had left vacant.</p>
+<p>To this imputation, the <i>Bulletin</i> made a sharp reply.
+Among other items calculated to enrage his foe appeared the
+following:</p>
+<blockquote>"The fact that Casey has been an inmate of Sing Sing
+prison in New York is no offense against the laws of this State;
+nor is the fact of his having stuffed himself through the ballot
+box, as elected to the Board of Supervisors from a district where
+it is said he was not even a candidate, any justification why Mr.
+Bagley should shoot Casey, however richly he may deserve having his
+neck stretched for such fraud upon the people...."</blockquote>
+<br>
+<p>There was more, but this was all that Casey read. He tore the
+paper into shreds and stamped upon it, inarticulate with fury. When
+at last he found his tongue a flood of obscenities flowed. He drew
+a pistol from his pocket; brandishing the weapon, he reached for
+the door knob. But Doane, who had brought the paper, caught his
+arm.</p>
+<p>"Don't be a fool. Put that pistol away," he warned. "The
+public's crazy-mad about the Cora verdict. They won't stand for
+shooting King."</p>
+<p>"Listen," said McGowan, craftily, "go up there and protest like
+a gentleman. Try to make the ---- insult you in the presence of a
+witness.... Afterward--we'll see."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLI"></a>CHAPTER XLI</h2>
+<h3>THE FATEFUL ENCOUNTER</h3>
+<br>
+<p>James King of William sat with his back toward the door when
+Casey, still a-quiver with rage but endeavoring to control himself,
+entered the Bulletin office. He stumbled over the doorsill.</p>
+<p>King turned. When he saw who the intruder was, he laid down a
+handful of proofs and rose. Casey glared at him.</p>
+<p>"What do you mean," cried the politician, trying to speak
+calmly, "by publishing that article about me in the Bulletin?"</p>
+<p>King transfixed him with accusing eyes. "About the ballot-box
+stuffing ... or your Sing Sing record, Casey?" he inquired.</p>
+<p>"You--you know well enough," blustered Casey. "It's an outrage
+to rake up a man's past.... A fellow's sensitive about such
+things."</p>
+<p>He shook a fist at King. "If necessary, I'll defend myself."</p>
+<p>"Very well," responded King. "That's your prerogative. You've a
+paper of your own.... And now get out of here," he added curtly.
+"Never show your face inside this door again."</p>
+<p>Later at the Bank Exchange McGowan found the supervisor cursing
+as he raised a glass of whiskey with a trembling hand.</p>
+<p>"Well, did you make him insult you?"</p>
+<p>"Damn him," was all Casey could answer. "Damn him. Damn him." He
+tossed the raw liquor down his throat and poured another drink.
+McGowan smiled.</p>
+<p>"You can do that till Doomsday and it won't hurt him." McGowan's
+voice rang with contempt. "Is that all you can do? Are you
+afraid--"</p>
+<p>Casey interrupted fiercely. "I'm NOT afraid. You know it. I'll
+get even."</p>
+<p>"How?"</p>
+<p>"Never mind. You'll see," the politician muttered darkly.</p>
+<p>"You're a drunken fool," remarked McGowan. "You've no chance
+with King. He's twice as big as you. He carries a derringer. And he
+shoots straight. Listen to me." He dragged the other to a corner of
+the room; they sat there for at least an hour arguing,
+drinking.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>James King of William watched Casey's exit from the Bulletin
+with a smile. He recalled his wife's warning that morning as he
+left his home, "Look out for Casey, James."</p>
+<p>"Pooh, Charlotte," he had reassured her. "I've far worse enemies
+than that prison rat."</p>
+<p>She had merely smiled, smoothed a wrinkle from his coat and
+kissed him, a worried look in her eyes. Then the children had
+gathered round him. Little Annie wanted a toy piano, Joe some
+crayons for his work at school.</p>
+<p>Remembering this, King seized a desk pad, wrote on it some words
+of memoranda. Then he straightway forgot Casey in the detail of
+work.</p>
+<p>When the Bulletin was off the press, the pad, with its written
+inscription, caught his eye and he shoved it into a side
+pocket.</p>
+<p>"Well, I'm going home," he said to Nesbitt. "Must buy a few
+things for the children."</p>
+<p>Nesbitt looked up half absently from his writing. "Afternoon,"
+he greeted. "Better take your derringer. Don't know what might
+happen."</p>
+<p>King shrugged himself into the talma cape, which he usually wore
+on the streets. It is doubtful if he heard Nesbitt's warning. With
+a nod to Gerberding he sauntered slowly out, enjoying the mellow
+spring sunshine, filtering now and then through wisps of fog. As he
+turned into Montgomery street he almost collided with Benito
+Windham, who, brief case under arm, was striding rapidly southward.
+They exchanged a cordial greeting. Benito looked after the tall
+courtly figure crossing Montgomery street diagonally toward a big
+express wagon. Benito thought he could discern a quick nervous
+movement back of it. A man stepped out, directly across King's
+path.</p>
+<p>He was James P. Casey, tremendously excited. His right hand
+shook violently. His hat was on one side of his head; he was
+apparently intoxicated. King did not notice him until they were
+almost abreast.</p>
+<p>Casey's arm was outstretched, pointed at King's breast. "Draw
+and defend yourself," he said loudly. He shut his eyes and a little
+puff of smoke seemed to spring from the ends of his fingers,
+followed in the fraction of a second by a sharp report.</p>
+<p>Benito ran with all his might toward the men. He did not think
+that King was hit, for the editor turned toward the Pacific Express
+office. On the threshold he stumbled. A clerk ran out and caught
+the tall figure as it collapsed.</p>
+<p>Benito looked about for King's assailant. He saw a group of men
+on Washington street, but was unable to distinguish Casey among
+them, though McGowan's lanky form was visible.</p>
+<p>At Benito's feet lay a pocket-memorandum marked with a splash of
+red. The young man picked it up and read:</p>
+<p>"Piano for Annie.</p>
+<p>"Crayons for Joe.</p>
+<p>"Candy--"</p>
+<p>A man with a medicine case shouldered his way in. He was Dr.
+Hammond. "Get a basin," he ordered, "some warm water." He
+unbuttoned the wounded man's coat, looking grave as he saw the
+spreading red stain on his shirt.</p>
+<p>"Will he get well, doctor?" shouted a dozen voices.</p>
+<br>
+<a name="page200.jpg"></a>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/page200.jpg" width="85%" alt=
+""><br>
+<b>"Draw and defend yourself," he said loudly. He shut his eyes and
+a little puff of smoke seemed to spring from the end of his
+fingers, followed ... by a sharp report.</b></p>
+<br>
+<p>"Can't tell ... 'fraid not," Hammond answered, and a sympathetic
+silence followed his announcement.</p>
+<p>Someone cried: "Where's Casey?"</p>
+<p>Word came that Casey was in jail. "He gave himself up," a man
+said.</p>
+<p>Presently there was a sound of carriage wheels. A white-faced
+woman made her way to the express office. The crowd stood with
+bared heads as it opened a way for her passage. The woman was Mrs.
+King. They heard her sobbing.</p>
+<p>Gerberding and Nesbitt came and made their exit after a short
+stay. Tears ran down Nesbitt's cheeks. "I told him so," they heard
+him muttering, "I told him so.... He wouldn't listen.... Didn't
+take his pistol."</p>
+<p>Last of all came William Coleman, lips pressed tightly together,
+eyes hard. He remained only a few moments. Benito hailed him as he
+emerged from the express office.</p>
+<p>"Any chance of recovery?"</p>
+<p>"Very little." The tone was grim.</p>
+<p>"I hate to think of what may happen if he dies?" Windham
+commented.</p>
+<p>"Hell will break loose," Coleman stated with conviction. "Better
+come along, Benito. I'm going to find Ike Bluxome. It's time we
+prepared."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLII"></a>CHAPTER XLII</h2>
+<h3>THE COMMITTEE ORGANIZES</h3>
+<br>
+<p>When Benito rode up Montgomery street next morning he saw a
+litter being carried out of the Pacific Express Office. Beside it,
+were Mrs. King, Dr. Hammond and John Sime. They walked very slowly
+and the crowd fell back on either side as the litter-bearers
+progressed.</p>
+<p>Benito's heart stood still a moment. "Is he--?" the question
+formed reluctantly upon his lips. But David Broderick, standing by,
+reassured him.</p>
+<p>"No, not dead. Thank Heaven! They're taking him to more
+comfortable quarters. A room in the Montgomery Block. They've
+postponed the operation on the artery; as a last resort."</p>
+<p>"Dave," said Windham, seriously, "do you suppose you'll be
+blamed for this?"</p>
+<p>"Good God, man! No," returned the other. "Not even Gwin would
+dare to lay this at my door. There's no politics in it. At least
+none of mine."</p>
+<p>"Yet Casey was one of your men. They'll say that."</p>
+<p>"Let them," answered Broderick angrily. "I've no more to do with
+it than you--nor Coleman, who, they tell me, is forming another
+Vigilance Committee."</p>
+<p>"Yes," said Windham. "They're to meet at the old Know Nothing
+Hall on Sacramento street. I'm going there now."</p>
+<p>"Well I'm bound for a talk with Will Sherman; he's been
+appointed head of the militia. Just in time I should say. He'll be
+needed before order is restored."</p>
+<p>They shook hands. Benito looked after his friend uneasily.
+Broderick was on the wrong side, the young man thought; was taking
+an unwise tack. But no one could argue with Broderick ... unless it
+were Alice. They must have Dave to dinner again.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>The street in front of Know Nothing Hall, a long two-story brick
+building was already crowded. One by one men were admitted--or
+rejected. Now and then a man would fall out of the line muttering
+wrathfully.</p>
+<p>"They're taking mighty good care not to let any of Scannell's
+friends get in," a man behind Benito confided. "The Sheriff's sent
+a dozen 'plants' this morning but Bluxome weeds them out
+unfailingly."</p>
+<p>After a time Benito found himself at the wicket, gazing into
+Isaac Bluxome's shrewd eyes. He was passed immediately with a smile
+of welcome and found himself in a large room of the "lodge"
+variety. There was a desk behind which sat William Coleman and
+Charles Doane.</p>
+<p>About one hundred men moved about talking animatedly in groups
+and among these Benito noted many of his fellows of the '51
+committee.</p>
+<p>Presently Coleman spoke.</p>
+<p>"Gentlemen, it has been decided to reorganize the Vigilance
+Committee. Mr. Bluxome and I have assumed the initiative, without
+any idea of placing ourselves at the head of the organization.
+Neither of us desire more than a chance to serve--in whatever
+capacity you may determine. We have prepared a form of oath, which
+I suggest shall be signed by each of us with his name and the
+number of his enrollment. Afterward he shall be known by that
+number only."</p>
+<p>He read the oath: "I do solemnly swear to act with the Vigilance
+Committee and second and sustain in full all their actions as
+expressed through the executive committee."</p>
+<p>"That's good!" "That's the ticket!" affirmed a score of voices.
+Coleman held up a quill pen invitingly, "Who'll be first to
+sign?"</p>
+<p>"You, Mr. Coleman," said Benito firmly, "you must be our
+chief."</p>
+<p>A cheer followed. Coleman demurred but in vain. They would have
+no one else. So, at last he put his name upon the paper, adding
+after it "No. 1."</p>
+<p>Others came up and affixed their signatures: C.J. Dempster, the
+Post brothers, Alfred Rix, P.G. Childs and so on. Bluxome, relieved
+from his post, was No. 33. It proved in after days a potent numeral
+for it represented the secretarial seal on documents which spelled
+doom to evildoers; hope, law and order to an outraged populace.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Meanwhile, McGowan, Scannell and his clan had not been idle. On
+the night of the shooting one hundred men proceeded to the Pacific
+street wharf where the Coliah and Seabird were anchored. From each
+of these, by force of arms, but with a promise of return, they took
+a ship's cannon which they dragged by means of two long ropes,
+uphill to the county stronghold.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>On Thursday morning Mayor Van Ness stalked into Turner, Lucas
+&amp; Company's bank and button-holed the manager. This was William
+T. Sherman, late of the United States army.</p>
+<p>"Sherman," said Van Ness excitedly, "is it true that you've been
+appointed major-general in charge of the second division of the
+California Militia?"</p>
+<p>"It is," retorted Sherman. His calm demeanor as he answered,
+without even looking up from the stock sheets which engrossed him,
+contrasted sharply with the fuming unrest of Van Ness. The latter
+now seized Sherman's sleeve.</p>
+<p>"Lay those down and come with me," he urged. "We need you
+instantly. Armed mobs are organizing to destroy the jail and seize
+the city government. It's your duty, sir, your manifest duty--"</p>
+<p>"All right, mayor," Sherman said, "I'll go along." He called a
+clerk and gave some orders. Then he slipped the stock sheets into a
+drawer and took his hat from a peg.</p>
+<p>They strode along together, Van Ness gesturing and talking;
+Sherman's head slightly bent as if in thought. Now and then he
+asked a curt question.</p>
+<p>The crowd about the jail had dwindled to a few curiosity
+seekers. The center of public interest had shifted to Know Nothing
+Hall where Vigilantes were still enrolling.</p>
+<p>Sherman and Van Ness found Sheriff Scannell, Ned McGowan, Billy
+Mulligan and the prisoner Casey in vehement consultation. They
+welcomed the soldier and mayor with manifest relief.</p>
+<p>"I'm glad you came," said Mulligan, "things look bad. There'll
+be Hell poppin'--if that d---- fool dies."</p>
+<p>"If you are referring to Mr. King, speak of him with respect."
+Sherman's tone was like a whiplash. The soldier turned to Scannell.
+"How many men have you? Men on whom you can depend in a
+crisis?"</p>
+<p>Scannell hesitated. "A hundred maybe ... but," he looked at
+Sherman hopefully, "there's your militia. Some of them served last
+night."</p>
+<p>"They've refused further service," said Van Ness. "I'm told that
+most of them have gone over to the Vigilantes ... and taken their
+arms along."</p>
+<p>Sherman stroked his chin. "This place is not impregnable by any
+means," he remarked. "The first thing we must do is to secure the
+buildings on each side."</p>
+<p>"Too late," groaned Scannell. "I tried to find lodgings for some
+of my guards at Mrs. Hutchinson's boarding house. She slammed the
+door in my face. I tried the other side and found that Coleman and
+Bluxome had an option on it. They've already sent men to guard both
+places."</p>
+<p>"Then," Sherman told them, "you cannot defend this jail against
+a well planned attack. Perhaps they'll not resort to force," he
+added hopefully. "The Governor's coming down to talk with
+Coleman."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIII"></a>CHAPTER XLIII</h2>
+<h3>GOVERNOR JOHNSON MEDIATES</h3>
+<br>
+<p>On the second day after the shooting, Governor J. Neely Johnson
+arrived on the evening boat. Mayor Van Ness had sent him a panicky
+message, imploring him to drop all else and hasten to San
+Francisco. The Mayor and William K. Garrison met him at the dock.
+They almost pushed the Governor into a carriage which was driven
+hastily to the International Hotel.</p>
+<p>In his room, behind closed doors, the Governor spoke a trifle
+irritably: "What the devil's all this row about, Van Ness? The town
+seems quiet enough. You spoke of civil war."</p>
+<p>"Coleman's organized another Vigilance Committee," Garrison took
+it upon himself to answer. "You know how impulsive San Franciscans
+are. They're in for anything. Two thousand have already joined.
+They've bought all the arms in town except a few that Sheriff
+Scannell seized in the militia armories. Scannell's sent out a
+hurry call for deputies--"</p>
+<p>"But," broke in the Governor, incredulously, "you say Coleman's
+doing this. I can't believe it. Coleman's a good man, a quiet
+fellow. He's my friend. I'll go to him at once."</p>
+<p>He rose, but Garrison, the politic, raised his hand. "Let him
+come to you. Summon him. The effect is much better."</p>
+<p>"As you say," acceded Johnson with a smile. "Send for Coleman,
+with my compliments." He resumed his seat and picked up an Evening
+Bulletin, shaking his head. "Poor King, I hear he's dying."</p>
+<p>"A dangerous man," remarked Garrison as he left the room.</p>
+<p>"He is a lot less dangerous alive--than dead," the Mayor
+shivered. "As a reformer he'd soon have ceased to interest the
+public. Nobody interests them long. But as a martyr!" he threw up
+his hands. "God help San Francisco!"</p>
+<p>They discussed the dangers of a public outbreak till a knock at
+the door interrupted them.</p>
+<p>It proved to be Garrison, accompanied by the Vigilante chief.
+"Hello, Coleman," the Governor greeted, cordially. The two shook
+hands. "What's this I hear about your Vigilante recrudescence?" He
+smote his hands together with a catechising manner. "What do you
+people want?"</p>
+<p>"We want peace," responded Coleman.</p>
+<p>"And, to get it, you prepare for war. What do you expect to
+accomplish?"</p>
+<p>"What the Vigilantes did in '51--"</p>
+<p>Briefly and concisely he outlined the frightful condition of
+affairs in San Francisco; the straining of public patience to its
+present breaking point.</p>
+<p>"Now, Governor," he said, impressively, "you've been called on
+by the Mayor and a certain class to bring out the militia and put
+down this movement. I assure you it cannot be done. It's not the
+way to treat the question...."</p>
+<p>"What is the way, then?" Johnson asked, aggressively.</p>
+<p>"Allow us to clean our Augean stables without more than a formal
+opposition from the State. Issue your necessary proclamations to
+maintain the dignity of the law. But don't interfere with our work.
+We shall get through with it quickly--and be glad to quit, I
+promise you."</p>
+<p>He rose and Johnson with him. Suddenly the Governor slapped the
+Vigilante chief a rousing whack upon the shoulder. "Go ahead, old
+boy! But hurry up. There is terrible opposition. Terrific
+pressure."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Turn Verein Hall that evening was a busy place. A dozen
+companies were drilling on the big gymnasium floor. Men who had
+never shouldered guns were executing orders with an ardor and a
+concentration which concealed much awkwardness of
+unfamiliarity.</p>
+<p>The garb and condition of recruits were vividly diversified.
+Doctor, teamster, lawyer, stevedore and banker, they were actuated
+by a common spirit, working through the manual of arms together,
+conscious of no caste.</p>
+<p>Benito and Adrian, who had come in late, surveyed the drilling.
+Warren Olney, big and forceful, gave them cordial welcome. "You're
+both in my company," he informed them. "We've graded all the
+signers of the roll according to their numbers. That is, the first
+hundred signers make the first company, the second hundred another.
+And so on."</p>
+<p>"How about cavalry and artillery?" Benito questioned.</p>
+<p>"Oh, we'll have both, don't worry," Charles Doane answered them.
+"Two vessels in the harbor have contributed cannon; we'll mount
+them on the foreparts of wagons. That's where Olney and his men
+will come in. And we've splendid riders, though the troops are
+still to be rounded into shape." He passed on hurriedly to execute
+some commission. "There's a splendid fellow," Olney said. "He's to
+be grand marshal of our forces." He took Benito and Adrian by the
+arm and led them toward a group of waiting men. "We must get our
+battery organized."</p>
+<p>A messenger strode hastily across the room seeking Coleman, who
+conferred with Doane in a distant corner. "The Governor's outside,"
+he whispered as he passed.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Coleman, entering the ante-room in answer to a summons, found
+Governor Johnson; his brother; W. K. Garrison and William Sherman,
+head of the somewhat depleted militia. A subtle change was
+noticeable in Johnson's manner. He spoke with brusque official
+authority, as if no previous interview had taken place:</p>
+<p>"Mr. Coleman, what are you and your committee plotting? Can't
+this trouble be adjusted here and now?"</p>
+<p>Coleman accepted the situation. He saw that opposition forces
+had been active.</p>
+<p>"We are tired of outlawry and assassination, Governor," he
+answered. "We've determined to endure them no longer. Street
+shooting's got to stop!"</p>
+<p>"I agree with you," the Governor admitted. "I've come down from
+Sacramento to aid. But this is a matter for the courts, and not for
+you to adjust. Our judges are honest. You can't impugn a man like
+Norton." He lowered his voice. "I'll see that Norton tries the
+case; that a grand jury indicts Casey. I'll do everything I can to
+force a trial, a conviction--and a speedy execution.... I've no
+right to make such promises. But I'll do it--to save this city the
+disgrace of a mob."</p>
+<p>Coleman raised his head. "This is no mob. You know it,
+Governor," he answered. "We've no faith in Sheriff Scannell nor his
+juries." He turned to Sherman. "This committee is a deliberative
+body, sir; regularly organized with officers and men, an executive
+council. The best men in the city are its members...."</p>
+<p>"And you are its Czar," remarked Garrison, tauntingly.</p>
+<p>"I am chairman by their choice--not mine," said Coleman, tartly.
+"To show you that I make no personal decisions, I will call other
+members of the council." He bowed and withdrew, returning in a few
+moments with the brothers Arrington, Thomas Smiley, Seymour and
+Truitt. The two sides went over the ground a second time. Smiley
+insisted that Casey be delivered to the Vigilantes. Johnson
+suggested that the committee continue its labors, but permit the
+court to try Casey, even in the event of King's death. An impasse
+loomed. Finally came Coleman's ultimatum: "If Sheriff Scannell will
+permit ten of our members to join the guard over Casey, this
+committee will agree to make no overt move--until our guards are
+withdrawn and you are notified."</p>
+<p>"Done," agreed the Governor, hastily.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIV"></a>CHAPTER XLIV</h2>
+<h3>THE TRUCE IS BROKEN</h3>
+<br>
+<p>On the Garvez ranch, at sunset, the 17th of May, David Broderick
+found a gracious interval of peace. It seemed almost incredible to
+be dining in the patio with Benito and Alice against a background
+of fragrant honeysuckle and early roses. The long sloping mesas
+were bright with golden poppies; fleecy white clouds bedecked the
+azure of a western sky, flushing now with carmine tints. Cowbells
+tinkled musically faint with distance and from the vaquero quarters
+came a herder's song, a woman's laughter, the tinkle of a
+guitar.</p>
+<p>"What are you dreaming of, my friend?" asked Alice Windham,
+gently.</p>
+<p>"It is very like a dream," he smiled at her, "this place of
+yours. So near the city. Yet so far removed in its
+enchantment....</p>
+<p>"Down there," he pointed toward the town, where lights were
+springing up out of the dusk, "a man lies dying ... and a mob plots
+vengeance."</p>
+<p>"Oh, come," Benito voiced a protest, "we're not a mob, Dave. You
+know that." He laid a hand upon the other's arm. "I understand how
+hard it's been for you.... You're suffering for the sins of
+underlings unfit to lace your boots."</p>
+<p>"Against whom you warned me not long since," said Broderick to
+Alice.</p>
+<p>"Casey, Mulligan. Yes, I remember ... you resented it a little,
+didn't you?"</p>
+<p>"No," he said, his eyes upon her with that eager look, repressed
+and yearning, which she could not always meet. "No, dear lady; it
+was not resentment.... But it hurt."</p>
+<p>Alice turned from him to her husband. "Tell me what they've done
+today, Benito."</p>
+<p>Windham's eyes shone. "You should see Will Coleman. Ah, he's a
+leader incomparable. We've got nearly 6,000 men. Infantry,
+artillery, cavalry. A police force, too, for patrolling the streets
+day and night."</p>
+<p>"And what is the other side doing?" Alice asked.</p>
+<p>"They've got the Governor wobbling," said Benito. "Sooner or
+later he'll call out the militia...."</p>
+<p>"But they've got no ammunition, no guns, I understand,"
+responded Broderick. "Sherman tried to commandeer those flintlock
+muskets from the Mexican war--several thousand of them--but Coleman
+got them first."</p>
+<p>"Yes," affirmed Benito. "The Sheriff's seized some scattered
+arms. But that is not what Coleman fears. It's Federal
+interference. They're trying to get General Wool to give them
+rifles from the arsenal at Benicia, perhaps a gunboat from the navy
+yard."</p>
+<p>"That means--civil warfare," Broderick said, aghast.</p>
+<p>Alice Windham rose and the two men with her. She took an arm of
+each. "Come," she pleaded, "let us put it all away--this turmoil of
+men's hatred ... let us walk here in the sweet-scented evening and
+forget."</p>
+<p>"I wish we might," said Broderick quickly. "What will happen in
+the next few days may never be forgotten."</p>
+<p>Swiftly, Alice turned to him; looked up into his face. "Do you
+think," she asked, so low that he could scarcely catch the words,
+"do you think, Dave, that you're safe?"</p>
+<p>Broderick caught his breath. Involuntarily his eyes strayed
+toward Benito. But the latter was so patently absorbed in sunset
+splendors that Broderick sighed as if relieved. It seemed as though
+some holy thing had passed between him and this woman. In her look,
+her simple question lay a shadowy, half-spoken answer to his
+heart's unuttered prayer. For a moment the world seemed aglow with
+some strange, quiet glory. Then he said, quite calmly: "I? Oh, yes,
+I'm safe enough."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Saturday passed without much change in King's condition. He was
+sinking slowly, despite his rugged strength, his will to live and
+the unceasing efforts of the city's best physicians.</p>
+<p>The Law and Order Party was being organized out of various
+elements that viewed alarmedly the Vigilantes' growing power.
+Religious, political, social elements combined in this new faction.
+In it were men of note, distinction, undisputed honor; and rascals
+of the worst degree.</p>
+<p>Ned McGowan, it was rumored, had gone into hiding. Broderick
+kept to himself and took no sides, yet. Many sought him for support
+and for advice, but he repulsed them tactfully, remaining in his
+room to read; walking silently about at twilight. He had a way of
+standing on a hilltop, losing count of minutes, even hours. Thus
+Adrian surprised him one evening gazing down on San Francisco's
+winking street lamps as the night came down.</p>
+<p>"Hello, Dave," he said, "why so pensive?"</p>
+<p>Quietly as he spoke the other started. "I was wondering about
+tomorrow...."</p>
+<p>"Why tomorrow?"</p>
+<p>Broderick looked around to satisfy himself that there was no one
+else to hear. "Coleman will withdraw his Vigilante guard from the
+jail on Sunday morning.... Oh, yes," he added, as the other seemed
+surprised, "I have my agents in the Committee's camp. Not to harm
+them. I don't hold with spies and treachery.... But I have to keep
+informed."</p>
+<p>Adrian looked at his friend, astonished. This was news to him.
+Broderick went on: "The Governor's indirectly forced their hand.
+Coleman knows that violent forces are at work to overthrow his
+Vigilantes; that the Governor's aiding them. So he's decided to
+strike."</p>
+<p>"Tomorrow, eh!" said Adrian thoughtfully. "That means bloodshed,
+probably."</p>
+<p>Broderick turned a gloomy countenance toward him. "I don't
+know," he answered, and resumed his gazing. Adrian went on. He
+looked back after he had gone a hundred yards. The other man
+remained there, immobile and silent as a statue.</p>
+<p>Governor J. Neely Johnson paced up and down the confines of his
+suite at the International Hotel. In a chair sprawled Mayor Van
+Ness, his fingers opening and shutting spasmodically upon the
+leather upholstery. Volney Howard leaned in a swaggering posture
+against the mantelpiece, smoking a big cigar and turning at
+intervals to expectorate out of one corner of his mouth.</p>
+<p>"Well," said Howard, "the President's turned us down. We get no
+Federal aid, I understand. What next?"</p>
+<p>Johnson stopped his pacing. "I fancy Coleman will have to answer
+that question. Our cue is to wait."</p>
+<p>"'He also serves who stands and waits'," quoted Howard
+sardonically.</p>
+<p>There came a knock at the door. Van Ness, arising quickly,
+answered it. A uniformed page stood on the threshold bearing a
+silver platter on which reposed two letters. Something about the
+incident again aroused Howard's sense of humor. "Like a play," he
+muttered. "'My Lord, the carriage waits.'"</p>
+<p>With an exclamation of annoyance the Governor stepped forward,
+took the two envelopes, displacing them with a bit of silver, and
+dismissed the boy. He opened both missives before examining either.
+Then he stood for a moment, a rectangle of paper in either hand,
+frowning.</p>
+<p>Van Ness, peering over the Governor's shoulder, read:</p>
+<p>We have given up hope for Mr. King's recovery. His death is a
+matter of days, perhaps hours.</p>
+<blockquote>DR. HAMMOND.<br>
+<br>
+We beg to inform your Excellency that the Vigilance Committee's
+guard at the county jail has been withdrawn.<br>
+<br>
+33, SECRETARY.</blockquote>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLV"></a>CHAPTER XLV</h2>
+<h3>THE COMMITTEE STRIKES</h3>
+<br>
+<p>On Sunday morning, May 18th, all of San Francisco was astir at
+dawn. There was none of the usual late breakfasting, the leisurely
+perusal of a morning paper.</p>
+<p>In some mysterious fashion word had gone abroad that history
+would be made this morning. The odd and feverish expectancy which
+rides, an unseen herald in the van of large events, was
+everywhere.</p>
+<p>A part of this undue activity resulted from the summoning of
+male members out of nearly three thousand households for military
+duty to begin at 9 o'clock. Long before that hour the general
+headquarters of the Vigilantes swarmed with members.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>As a neighboring clock struck noon, the Vigilantes debouched
+into the street, an advance guard of riders clearing that
+thoroughfare of crowding spectators. First came Captain James N.
+Olney commanding the Citizens' Guard of sixty picked men, so
+soldierly in appearance that their coming evoked a cheer.</p>
+<p>Company 11, officered by Captain Donnelly and Lieutenant Frank
+Eastman came next, and after them a company of French citizens,
+very straight and gallant in appearance; then a German company.
+Followed at precise and military intervals a score or more of
+companies, with their gleaming bayonets, each standing at attention
+until the entire host had been assembled. Now and then some
+bystander cried a greeting. On the roofs were now a fringe of
+colored parasols, a fluttering of handkerchiefs. One might have
+deemed it a parade save for a certain grimness, the absence of
+bands. There was a hush as Marshal Doane rode all along the line
+and paused at the head to review his troops. One could hear him
+clearly as he raised his sabre and commanded, "Forward, march!" At
+the sidelines the lieutenants chanted:</p>
+<p>"Hup! Hup! Hup-hup-hup!"</p>
+<p>Legs began to move in an impressive clock-work unison. Gradually
+the thousands of bayonets took motion, seemed to flow along like
+some strange stream of scintillating lights.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>On the roof of the International Hotel the Governor, the Mayor,
+Major-General Sherman of the State Militia, Volney Howard and a
+little group of others watched the Vigilantes as they marched up
+Sacramento street. The Governor seemed calm enough; only the
+spasmodic puffs from his cigar betrayed agitation. Van Ness walked
+back and forth, cramming his hands into his breeches pockets and
+withdrawing them every ten seconds. Volney looked down with his
+usual sardonic smile but his eyes were bitter with hate. Sherman
+alone displayed the placidity of a soldier.</p>
+<p>"Look at the damned rabble!" exclaimed Howard. "They're
+dividing. Some are going up Pacific street to Kearney, some to
+Dupont and ... yes, a part of them on Stockton."</p>
+<p>"It's what you call an enfilading movement," said Sherman
+quietly.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>In the county jail were Sheriff Scannell, Harrison his deputy,
+Marshal North, Billy Mulligan the jailor, and a small guard. Some
+of these watched proceedings from the roof, now and then descending
+to report to Scannell. Cora, in his cell, played solitaire and
+Casey made pretense of reading a book.</p>
+<p>Presently Scannell entered the room where Casey sat; it was not
+a cell nor had the door been locked since the withdrawal of the
+Vigilante guard. Casey looked up quickly. "What's the latest news
+from King?"</p>
+<p>"He's dying, so they say," retorted Scannell.</p>
+<p>"Dave," it was almost a whisper. "You've been to Broderick?
+Curse him, won't he turn his hand to help a friend?"</p>
+<p>"Easy, Billy," said the Sheriff. "Broderick's never been your
+friend; you know that well enough. Your boss, perhaps. But even so,
+he couldn't help you. No one can.... This town's gone mad."</p>
+<p>"What d'ye mean?" asked Casey in a frightened whisper.</p>
+<p>"Billy," spoke the Sheriff, "have a drink." He poured a liberal
+potion from a bottle standing on the table. Casey drained the
+glass, his eyes never leaving Scannell's. "Now," resumed the
+Sheriff, "listen, boy, and take it cool. THEY'RE COMING FOR
+YOU!"</p>
+<p>At first Casey made no reply. One might have thought he had not
+heard, save for the widening of his eyes.</p>
+<p>"You--you'll not let them take me, Dave?" he said, after a
+silence. "You'll fight?"</p>
+<p>Scannell's hand fell on the other's shoulder. "I've only thirty
+men; they're a hundred to one. They've a cannon."</p>
+<p>They looked at one another. Casey closed his fists and
+straightened slightly. "Give me a case-knife, Dave," he pleaded.
+"I'll not let them take me. I'll--"</p>
+<p>Silently, Scannell drew from his boot a knife in a leather
+sheath. Casey grasped it, feverishly, concealing it beneath his
+vest. "How soon?" he asked, "how soon?"</p>
+<p>Scannell strode to the window. "They're outside now," he
+informed the shrinking Casey. "The executive committee's in front
+... the Citizens' Guard is forming a hollow square around them....
+Miers Truett's coming to the door."</p>
+<p>Casey drew the knife; raised it dramatically. "I'll not let them
+take me," he shouted, as if to bolster up courage by the sound of
+his own voice. "I'll never leave this place alive."</p>
+<p>Sheriff Scannell, summoned by a deputy, looked over his
+shoulder. "Oh, yes, you will," he muttered. In his tone were pity
+and disdain.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Early Tuesday afternoon Benito and Broderick met in front of the
+Montgomery Block. The former had just been released from duty at
+Committee Headquarters, where a guard of 300 men was, night and
+day, maintained.</p>
+<p>"Casey has spent most of his time writing since we captured
+him," Benito told his friend. "He recovered his nerve when he found
+we'd no intention of hanging him without a trial. Of course, if
+King should live, he'll get off lightly. And then, there's
+Cora--"</p>
+<p>"Yes, he'll be a problem, if the other one's released," said
+Broderick. "Unless King dies this whole eruption of the Vigilantes
+will fall flat."</p>
+<p>Benito nodded, half reluctantly. "It seems--like destiny," he
+muttered. Suddenly his head jerked upward. "What is that?"</p>
+<p>A man came running out of the Montgomery Block. He seemed
+excited. His accelerated pace continued as he sped down Sacramento
+street. Presently another made his exit; ran like mad, uphill,
+toward the jail.</p>
+<p>Dr. Hammond, looking very grim, came hurriedly out of the door
+and entered a closed carriage. It drove off instantly. Then
+everything went on as usual. The two men stood there, watchful,
+expectant. The town seemed unusually still. A flag on a two-story
+building flapped monotonously. Then a man across the street ran out
+of his store and pointed upward. A rope was thrown from an upper
+window of the Montgomery Block. Someone picked it up and carried it
+to The Bulletin Building, pulled it taut. On a strip of linen had
+been hastily inscribed the following announcement, stretched across
+the street:</p>
+<p>"THE GREAT AND GOOD IS DEAD. WHO WILL NOT MOURN?"</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVI"></a>CHAPTER XLVI</h2>
+<h3>RETRIBUTION</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Cora's trial was in progress. In the upper front room of
+Vigilante headquarters sat the tribunal upon whose decision Cora's
+fate would rest. They were grouped about a long table, twenty-nine
+men, the executive committee. At their head sat William Coleman,
+grim and stern, despite his clear complexion and his youthful,
+beardless mien. Near him, Isaac Bluxome, keen-eyed, shrewd,
+efficient, made notes of the proceedings.</p>
+<p>Cora, affecting an air of nonchalance, and, as ever, immaculate
+in dress, sat between his counsel, Miers F. Truett and Thomas J.L.
+Smiley, while John P. Manrow acted as the prosecutor.</p>
+<p>The gambler's eyes were fixed upon the trio when he was not
+searching the faces of those other silent men about the board. They
+were dressed in black. There was about them an air of impassivity
+almost removed from human emotion, and Cora could not but contrast
+them with the noisy, chewing, spitting, red-shirted jury at his
+previous trial, where Belle Cora's thousands had proved efficacious
+in securing disagreement. There would be no disagreement here.
+Instinctively, Cora knew that.</p>
+<p>Marshal Doane entered. He held in his hand a folded paper.
+Coleman and the others looked at him expectantly. "It is my great
+misfortune to report that James King of William is dead," said
+Doane. There was a buzz of comment, almost instantly stilled by
+Coleman's gavel. "Damn!" said the gambler under his breath.</p>
+<p>"Gentlemen, we will proceed with the trial," Coleman spoke. The
+examination of witnesses went on. But there was a difference. Cora
+noticed it. Sometimes, with an involuntary, shuddering gesture, he
+touched the skin above his flowing collar.</p>
+<p>Casey, when informed of King's death, trembled. "Your trial
+begins tomorrow," Doane informed him. "They'll finish with Cora
+tonight."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Thursday morning carpenters were seen at work on the Vigilante
+building. A stout beam was projected from the roof over two of the
+upper windows facing Sacramento street; to these pulleys were
+attached.</p>
+<p>Platforms were extended from the window sills. They were about
+three feet long and were seen to be hinged at the sills. The ends
+were held up by ropes fastened to the beams overhead.</p>
+<p>Stouter ropes next appeared, one end passing through the pulleys
+overhead, then they were caught up in nooses. The other ends were
+in the committee rooms.</p>
+<p>Men tested the platforms by standing on them; tried the nooses;
+found them strong. Then the carpenters retired. The windows were
+closed.</p>
+<p>A crowd below looked up expectantly, but nothing happened until
+noon, when military companies formed lines along Sacramento, Front
+and Davis streets. Cannon were placed to command all possible
+approaches. The great alarm bell of the Vigilantes sounded.</p>
+<p>By this time every roof near by was thronged with people. A cry
+went up as the windows of Vigilante headquarters were opened. At
+each stood a man, his arms pinioned. He advanced to the edge of the
+platform.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Bells were tolling. Black bunting was festooned from hundreds of
+doors and windows. All the flags of the city were at half-mast,
+even those of ships in the Bay.</p>
+<p>From the Unitarian Church on Stockton street, between Clay and
+Sacramento, came the funeral cortege on its way to the burial
+ground at Lone Mountain. Everywhere along the route people stood
+with bared heads.</p>
+<p>Little Joe King, a son of the murdered editor, 10 years of age,
+sat stiff and stunned by the strangeness of it all in a carriage
+beside Mrs. John Sime. Mr. and Mrs. Sime were great friends of his
+father and mother, and Mrs. Sime, whom he sometimes called
+"Auntie," had taken him into her carriage, since that of the widow
+was filled.</p>
+<p>Little Joe did not know what to make of it all. He knew,
+somehow, vaguely, that his father had been put into a long box that
+had silver handles and was covered with flowers. He knew of that
+mystery called death, but he had not visualized it closely
+heretofore. The thing overwhelmed him. Just now he could only
+realize that his father was being honored as no one had ever before
+been honored in San Francisco. That was something he could take
+hold of.</p>
+<p>As the carriage approached Sacramento street the crowd
+thickened. He heard a high-pitched voice that seemed almost to be
+screaming. He made out phrases faintly:</p>
+<p>"... God!... My poor mother!... Let nobody call ... murderer ...
+God save me ... only 29 ..."</p>
+<p>Swiftly the screaming stopped. A strange silence fell on the
+crowd. They turned their heads and looked down Sacramento street.
+Little Joe could stand the curiosity no longer. He craned his neck
+to see. Far down the street soldiers were standing before a
+building. Everybody watched them open-mouthed. In front of the
+building on a high platform two men stood as if they were making
+speeches. But they did not move their arms, and their heads looked
+very queer ... as if they had bags over them.</p>
+<p>Then, unexpectedly, Mrs. Sime forced him back. She pulled the
+curtain on the left side of the carriage. Little Joe heard a
+half-suppressed roar go up from the throng. For an instant the
+carriage halted. He was grievously disappointed not to witness the
+thing which held the public eye. Then the carriage went on.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Later, another funeral wended its way through the streets. It
+was at night and ill attended. A handsome woman followed it with
+streaming eyes; a woman who lived by an evil trade, and the inmates
+of whose house were given over to sin. Early that morning she had
+married a murderer. Now she was a widow with a broken heart--she
+whom many stigmatized as heartless.</p>
+<p>For many years she was to visit and to weep over the grave of a
+little dark man who had touched her affections; who might, under
+happier conditions, have awakened her soul. She was Mrs. Charles
+Cora, born Arabella Ryan, and widely known as "Belle," the mistress
+of a bawdy house.</p>
+<p>A few members of Casey's fire engine company paid him final
+honors. Shrived, before his execution, he was laid in holy ground,
+a stone erected over his grave.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>The city returned more or less to its normal activities. But the
+Vigilante Committee remained in active session. It had avenged the
+deaths of Richardson and King, but it had other work to do.</p>
+<p>About this time, Yankee Sullivan, prize-fighter, ballot-box
+stuffer and political plug-ugly, killed himself in Vigilante
+quarters, evidently mad with fear.</p>
+<p>Ned McGowan, made of different stuff, arch plotter, thought by
+many to be the instigator of King's murder, went into hiding.</p>
+<br>
+<a name="page224.jpg"></a>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/page224.jpg" width="85%" alt=
+""><br>
+<b>In front of the building on a high platform, two men stood.... A
+half suppressed roar went up from the throng.</b></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVII"></a>CHAPTER XLVII</h2>
+<h3>HINTS OF CIVIL WAR</h3>
+<br>
+<p>After the hanging a temporary reaction took place--a let-down
+from the hectic, fevered agitations of preceding days. Members of
+the Law and Order Party were secretly relieved by the removal of
+Casey and Cora.</p>
+<p>"Now that they've shot their bolt, we'll have peace," said Hall
+McAllister to Broderick. But the latter shook his head. "They've
+only started, Mac," he answered, "don't deceive yourself. These
+Vigilantes are business men; they've a business-like organization.
+Citizens are still enlisting ... seven thousand now, I
+understand."</p>
+<p>"Damn them!" said the lawyer, broodingly, "what d'ye think
+they'll be up to next?"</p>
+<p>"Don't damn them too much." Broderick's smile held a grim sort
+of humor. "They're going to break up a political organization it's
+taken me years to perfect. That ought to please you a little."</p>
+<p>McAllister laughed. The two men shook hands and parted. They
+were political enemies--McAllister of the Southern or "Chivalry"
+clan, which yearned to make a slave State out of California;
+Broderick an uncompromising Northerner and Abolitionist. Yet they
+respected one another, and a queer, almost secret friendship
+existed between them. Farther down the street Broderick met Benito.
+"I've just been talking with your boss," he said.</p>
+<p>"No longer," Windham informed him. "McAllister didn't like my
+Vigilante leanings. So we parted amiably enough. I'll study law on
+my own hook from now on. I've had a bit of good luck."</p>
+<p>"Ah," said the other. "Glad to hear it. An inheritance?"</p>
+<p>"Something like it," Windham answered. "Do you remember when I
+went to the mines I met a man named Burthen? Alice's father, you
+know. We had a mining claim together," His brow clouded. "He was
+murdered at the Eldorado.... Well, that's neither here nor
+there.... But it left me the claim. I didn't think it was worth
+much. But I've sold it to an Eastern syndicate."</p>
+<p>"Good!" cried Broderick. "Congratulations."</p>
+<p>They shook hands. "Ten thousand," Benito informed him. "We've
+had an offer for the ranch, too. Company wants to make it into
+small allotments.... Think of that! A few years ago we were far in
+the country. Now it's suburban property. They're even talking of
+street cars."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>At Vigilante Headquarters Benito found unusual activity. Drays
+were backing up to the doors, unloading bedding, cots, a number of
+cook-stoves. Men were carrying in provisions. Coleman came out with
+Bluxome. They surveyed the work a moment, chatting earnestly, then
+parted.</p>
+<p>"We're equipping a commissary and barracks," thus a member
+informed Benito. "Doesn't look much like disbanding, does it? The
+Chivs. think we're through. No such luck. This is costing me $50 a
+day in my business," he sighed. "We've got a dozen blacklegs,
+shoulder-strikers and ballot-stuffers in there now, awaiting trial.
+We've turned all the petty offenders over to the police."</p>
+<p>Benito laughed. "And have you noticed this: The Police Courts
+are convicting every single one of them promptly!"</p>
+<p>"Yes, they're learning their lessons ... but we've trouble
+ahead. These Southerners and politicians have the Governor in their
+pocket. He's sent two men to Washington to ask the President for
+troops. Farragut has been asked to bombard the city. He's refused.
+But General Wool has promised them arms from Benicia if the
+Governor and Sherman prove that anarchy exists."</p>
+<p>"They can't," Benito contended.</p>
+<p>"Not by fair means, no.... But that won't stop them. Yesterday
+Chief Justice Terry of the Supreme Court issued a habeas corpus
+writ for Billy Mulligan, Harrison came down today and served
+it."</p>
+<p>"What happened?" asked Benito, eagerly.</p>
+<p>"Well, the hotheads wanted to resist--to throw him out. But
+Bluxome saw through the scheme--to get us on record as defying
+Federal authority. So he hid Billy Mulligan and let Harrison
+search. Of course he found no one. We were politely regretful."</p>
+<p>"Which settles that," remarked Benito, chuckling.</p>
+<p>"Not so fast, old boy!" the other Vigilante cautioned.
+"Harrison's no fool. He couldn't go back outwitted.... So he simply
+lied. Wrote on the warrant, 'service resisted by force.'"</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>On the following day Major General Sherman of the State Militia
+received the following document, dated "Executive Department,
+Sacramento, June 2d, 1856":</p>
+<blockquote>Information having been received by me that an armed
+body of men are now organized in the City and County of San
+Francisco, in this State, in violation of law; and that they have
+resisted the due execution of law by preventing a service of a writ
+of habeas corpus duly issued; and that they are threatening other
+acts of violence and rebellion against the constitution and the
+laws of the State; you are hereby commanded to call upon such
+number as you may deem necessary of the enrolled militia, or those
+subject to military duty, also upon all the voluntary independent
+companies of the military division under your command--to report,
+organize, etc., and act with you in the enforcement of the law.<br>
+<br>
+J. NEELY JOHNSON.</blockquote>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Two days after the Governor's proclamation half a dozen of the
+prisoners in "Fort Gunnybags" were exiled by the Vigilance
+Committee. Each, after a regular and impartial trial, was found
+guilty of offenses against the law. The sentence was banishment,
+with death as the penalty for return. Under a strong guard of
+Vigilance Committee police the malodorous sextet were marched
+through town, and placed aboard the steamer Hercules. A squad of
+Vigilantes remained until the vessel left her dock to see that they
+did not escape. Thus did the Committee answer Governor Johnson's
+proclamation. The fortification of the Vigilante Headquarters went
+on. Hundreds of gunnysacks filled with sand were piled in front of
+the building as a protection against artillery fire. This continued
+for days until a barricade ten feet high and six feet thick had
+been erected with embrasures for cannon and a loop-holed platform
+for riflemen. Cannon were placed on the roof of the building where
+the old Monumental firebell had been installed as a tocsin of
+war.</p>
+<p>In the meantime Sherman was enrolling men. They came in rather
+fast, most of them law-breakers seeking protection, and a small
+minority of reputable citizens honestly opposed to Vigilante
+methods. But the armories were bare of rifles and ammunition.
+Sherman dispatched a hasty requisition to General Wool, reminding
+him of his promise. Days passed and no arms arrived. The new
+recruits were calling for them. Some of them drilled with wooden
+staves and were laughed at. They quit in disgust. Then Sherman went
+to Sacramento. Something was wrong. Johnson, nervous and
+distraught, showed him a letter from General Wool. It was briefly
+and politely to the effect that he had no authority to issue arms
+without a permit from the War Department.</p>
+<p>Sherman, always for action, seized his hat. "Come," he said, as
+though the Governor were a subaltern. "We'll go to Benicia. We must
+have a talk with General Wool." And the Governor went.</p>
+<p>But Wool, though courteous, proved obdurate. The militia
+remained unarmed.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVIII"></a>CHAPTER XLVIII</h2>
+<h3>SHERMAN RESIGNS</h3>
+<br>
+<p>On Saturday, June 7, Benito found Coleman sitting at his desk in
+the executive chamber of Fort Gunnysacks. His usually cheerful
+countenance wore an anxious look, a look of inner conflict. He
+glanced up, almost startled, as Benito entered.</p>
+<p>"Fred Macondray and his party are outside," said Windham. "They
+would like to see you."</p>
+<p>"What do they wish?" asked Coleman in a harassed tone.</p>
+<p>"They're leaving for Benicia today to see the Governor," Benito
+answered. "Want your final word on mediation matters."</p>
+<p>Coleman rose with a brisk movement. He paced the room half a
+dozen times, his hands behind him, his head slightly bent, before
+he spoke.</p>
+<p>"Bring 'em in. Call Bluxome and as many of the Executive
+Committee as you can find."</p>
+<p>Benito departed. Presently there filed into the room nine
+gentlemen, headed by Macondray. They belonged neither to the
+Vigilantes nor to the Law and Order Party. And they were now bent
+on averting a clash between the two.</p>
+<p>"William," Macondray, acting as the spokesman, "what message
+shall we take the Governor?"</p>
+<p>Bluxome, Smiley, Dempster and others of the Executive Committee
+entered. Coleman explained to them the purpose of Macondray and his
+friends. "What shall we say to them, boys?" he asked.</p>
+<p>"Put it in your own words," Bluxome said. "We'll stand by what
+you say."</p>
+<p>Coleman faced Macondray and his companions. "Tell J. Neely
+Johnson," he announced, "that if he will consent to withdraw his
+proclamation we will, on our part, make no further parade of our
+forces on the street, nor will we resist by force any orders of the
+court."</p>
+<p>Bluxome and his companions nodded. Macondray looked a trifle
+puzzled. "Suppose he declines to withdraw the proclamation?" he
+asked, hesitatingly.</p>
+<p>"Then," the voice of Coleman rang, "we promise nothing."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>On the boat which took them to Benicia, Macondray and his
+friends met Major-General Sherman of the State Militia. They found
+him striding up and down the deck, chewing his cigar. Macondray and
+he compared notes. Sherman had been summoned for an interview with
+Johnson. The Governor planned a final onslaught of persuasion,
+hoping General Wool would change his mind; would furnish arms for
+the militia.</p>
+<p>"If he doesn't, it's useless. Men can't fight without guns."
+Macondray thought he noted an undertone of relief in Sherman's
+words.</p>
+<p>"Do you think he'll give them to you?" Macondray asked in an
+undertone. Sherman slowly shook his head. He walked away, as though
+he dreaded further questioning.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>At Benicia, Sherman and the Macondray party rode up in the same
+'bus to the Solano House. Sherman was admitted at once. The
+committee was asked to wait. Sherman entered a room blue with
+tobacco smoke. It contained four men, besides the Governor: Chief
+Justice David S. Terry, a tall man with a hard face, sat tilted
+back in a chair, his feet on the Governor's table. He had not taken
+off his hat. Without moving or apparently looking in that
+direction, he spat at regular intervals toward the fireplace. Near
+him sat Edward S. Baker, statesmanlike, impressive, despite his
+drink-befuddlement; Edward Jones, of Palmer, Cook &amp; Co.,
+smaller, shrewd, keen and avaricious-eyed, was pouring a drink from
+a decanter; Volney Howard, fat, pompous, aping a blas&eacute;,
+decadent manner, stood, as usual, near the mantel.</p>
+<p>They all looked up as Sherman entered. Terry favored him with a
+half-concealed scowl; Howard with an open sneer; Jones with
+deprecating hostility. Baker smiled. The Governor, who seemed each
+day to grow more nervous and irritable, held out his hand.</p>
+<p>"Well, well, Sherman," he greeted, "glad to see you." Then his
+brow knit in a kind of puzzled provocation. "What's that Vigilante
+Committee doing here with you?"</p>
+<p>Terry grunted and spat. Sherman looked them over with a
+repulsion he could not completely conceal. They were men of violent
+prejudices. It was bad to see the Governor so completely in their
+grasp.</p>
+<p>"They are not Vigilantes, your Excellency," he began with
+punctilious hauteur.</p>
+<p>"The hell they're not!" said Terry.</p>
+<p>Sherman ignored him completely. "My meeting with them was purely
+casual," he resumed. "They are prominent, impartial citizens of San
+Francisco, seeking to make peace. They have, I understand, seen
+Coleman; are prepared to offer certain compromises."</p>
+<p>"Aha!" cried Howard, "the rabble is caving in. They're ready to
+quit."</p>
+<p>Johnson looked at Sherman as if for confirmation. He shook his
+head. "Far from it."</p>
+<p>"Cannot they state their business in writing?" asked
+Johnson.</p>
+<p>"Send them packing, the damned pork merchants!" Terry said, as
+if issuing a command.</p>
+<p>Again the Governor seemed to hesitate. Again his glance sought
+Sherman's. "That would be unwise," returned the soldier.</p>
+<p>The Governor summoned a clerk. "Ask the committee to put their
+business in writing!" he ordered. When the man had gone he once
+more addressed Sherman: "Wool absolutely refuses to provide the
+militia with arms."</p>
+<p>Terry's fist smote the table with a crash. A stream of
+vituperation issued from his lips. General Wool, the Vigilance
+Committee and Admiral Farragut were vilified in terms so crude that
+even the other men surveyed the Chief Justice with distaste.</p>
+<p>Sherman turned to the door. "Governor, I've had enough of this,"
+he spoke sharply. "I shall send you my resignation tonight." He
+went out, leaving Johnson to mutter distressedly. "Never mind,"
+said Terry, "give his job to Volney. He'll drive the damned pork
+merchants into the sea."</p>
+<p>"What about rifles and ammunition?" asked Howard with sudden
+practicality.</p>
+<p>They looked at each other blankly. Then the wily Jones came
+forward with a shrewd suggestion. "Wool can't refuse you the
+regular quota of arms for annual replenishment," he said. "Get
+those by requisition. Ship them down to San Francisco. Reub Maloney
+is here. He'll carry them down in a sloop."</p>
+<p>"But they're only a few hundred guns," said the Governor.</p>
+<p>"They'll help," contended Jones. "They'll make a showing."</p>
+<p>"Suppose Coleman hears about it; he'll seize them on the
+bay."</p>
+<p>"Then he'll commit an act of 'piracy'," Baker said,
+explosively.</p>
+<p>Terry took his feet from the table, rose. "By God!" he
+exclaimed, "there's an idea! Piracy! A capital offense!" He crammed
+his hands into his pockets and strode heavily up and down.</p>
+<p>"Coleman's not likely to hear of our sending these arms," said
+the Governor.</p>
+<p>Jones poured another drink and sipped it. "Isn't he, though?" He
+laughed softly. "You fellows just leave that to me." He caught up
+his hat and went out.</p>
+<p>"A smart little man," remarked Howard Baker, complacently.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIX"></a>CHAPTER XLIX</h2>
+<h3>TERRY STABS HOPKINS</h3>
+<br>
+<p>The peace-makers took an early boat for San Francisco. They were
+hopelessly alienated from the Law and Order Party. After some
+deliberation they decided to call a mass meeting in front of the
+Oriental Hotel. Thus they hoped to make the Vigilante sentiment
+practically unanimous and request through popular acclaim, a
+withdrawal of the Governor's proclamation.</p>
+<p>Early on June 14, the day appointed, citizens began to gather at
+Bush and Battery streets; by noon they blocked both thoroughfares
+and overflowed into Market street. Each window, roof and balcony
+near by was filled. Women in their summer finery lent gay splashes
+of color, waved parasols or handkerchiefs excitedly at their
+acquaintances below.</p>
+<p>Inez Windham called to David Broderick, who was passing,
+"There's room for one more on our balcony. Come up." As he stood
+behind her in the window, stooping a little, she looked eagerly
+into his careworn face. "One might think it was a circus." He
+smiled.</p>
+<p>"You remind me of champagne, you San Franciscans. The inherent
+quality of you is sparkle.... Even if an earthquake came along and
+swallowed you, I think you'd go down with that same light, laughing
+nonchalance."</p>
+<p>Mrs. Stanley made a moue at him. "You find us--different from
+your Eastern ladies, Mr. Broderick?" she asked expectantly.</p>
+<p>He considered for a moment. "Sometimes I think it is the land
+more than the women. They come from everywhere--with all their
+varied prejudices, modes, conventions. But, after a time, they
+become Californians--like you."</p>
+<p>"That's what Benito says," returned his sister. "He's daft about
+San Francisco. He calls it his Golden City. I think"--she leaned
+nearer, "but you must not say I told you--I think he has written
+poetry about it."</p>
+<p>"Ah, yes," said Broderick, "he has that strain. And how is
+Alice?"</p>
+<p>"Alice is well," he heard Inez say. Then a great shout from the
+street silenced their converse. Colonel Bailie Peyton was
+speaking.</p>
+<p>"We are here to consider principles of the first magnitude and
+which may result in the shedding of innocent blood. One of the
+objects of this meeting is to prevent so dire a calamity.</p>
+<p>"The Vigilance Committee must be sustained or put down. If they
+are put down it must be at the point of the bayonet. The question
+is whether we shall appeal to the Governor to put them down in this
+way, or whether we shall ask him to withdraw his opposition."</p>
+<p>He looked up at the balconies across the street.</p>
+<p>"The Vigilance Committeemen have the prayers of the churches on
+their side, and the smiles of the ladies--God bless them."</p>
+<p>There were cheers and applause.</p>
+<p>Again his voice rose to crescendo:</p>
+<p>"Let us show the Governor that if he fights the Committee he
+will have to walk over more dead bodies than can be disposed of in
+the cemetery. Let us indorse all the Committeemen have done. Let us
+be ready to fight for them if necessary."</p>
+<p>The crowd broke into wild huzzas. Volney Howard and Richard
+Ashe, the naval officer, paused on a near-by corner, attracted by
+the uproar. Howard scowled and muttered something about "damned
+pork merchants," but he looked uneasy.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>The Vigilance Committee, undaunted by Governor Johnson's
+proclamation or the efforts of the Law and Order element, continued
+quietly the work of ridding San Francisco of its criminals and
+undesirables.</p>
+<p>On June 10 the National Guard of San Francisco disbanded and
+Marshal Hampton North resigned. Rumor had it that the Vigilance
+Committee's work was finished. On July 4 they would disband with a
+great public demonstration, it was rumored. Coleman did not deny
+this.</p>
+<p>On July 19 came news that rifles and ammunition were being
+shipped from Benicia; Wool was said at last to have capitulated.
+But it turned out to be a small annual replenishment order of 130
+muskets with a few rounds of powder and ball. Later came the
+exciting rumors that John Durkee, Charles Rand and a crew of ten
+men had captured the sloop carrying these arms on the bay; had
+arrested Reuben Maloney, John Phillips and a man named McNab. The
+arms were brought to Committee Headquarters in San Francisco. On
+arrival there, perhaps through oversight, the prisoners were
+released.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>The Vigilance Committee made two serious mistakes. They fell
+into the Law and Order trap by committing an act of technical
+piracy. From this Durkee saved them by taking upon himself the
+legal onus of the seizure. The second error, though a minor one,
+proved much more serious. They sent Sterling Hopkins, a
+vainglorious, witless, overzealous wight, to rearrest Maloney.
+Coleman was not responsible for this; nor were the Vigilantes in a
+larger sense, for a few hotheads in temporary command issued the
+order. Hopkins, glorying in the quest, for any errand of authority
+made him big with pride, set out alone to execute it. He found
+Maloney in the office of Dr. Richard P. Ashe, United States naval
+agent. Ashe was companioned by adherents of the Law and Order
+faction, among them Justice David S. Terry.</p>
+<p>Pushing the doorkeeper rudely aside, Hopkins entered the room.
+"Come with me, Reub Maloney," he commanded, "you're under
+arrest."</p>
+<p>Maloney shrank into a corner. Ashe stepped in the constable's
+path. "Get out of here!" he thundered. "As a Federal officer I
+order you to begone!"</p>
+<p>"And I, as a judge and a Southern gentleman, will kick you out,
+suh." Judge Terry moved menacing forward. His eyes flashed. Several
+others joined him. They took Hopkins by the shoulders and pushed
+him none too gently out of the room. The door closed. He stood for
+a moment in the hall, muttering in his outraged dignity. Then he
+turned and ran toward Fort Vigilance.</p>
+<p>"We've scared the dirty peddler," Ashe said, as they watched his
+flying footsteps from a window.</p>
+<p>"He's gone for reinforcements," said another. "Let's get out of
+here. The Blues' armory is better." There was some argument.
+Finally, however, armed with pistols, they sought the street,
+forming a guard around Maloney. But they had not proceeded far down
+Jackson street when Hopkins came upon them with nine men. Both
+parties halted, Judge Terry standing in front of the prisoner;
+Hopkins, who was no coward for all his pompous tactlessness,
+advanced determinedly. He reached around the Judge and clutched at
+Maloney's arm. "I arrest you in the name of the Committee."</p>
+<p>"To hell with your Committee!" shouted Terry. He struck Hopkins'
+arm away and poked a derringer in the policeman's face.</p>
+<p>Hopkins countered; the pistol went flying. Terry staggered back,
+while Hopkins made another clutch at his intended prisoner.</p>
+<p>Then occurred, with lightning speed, an unexpected thing. Terry,
+recovering his balance, sprang forward, drew the bowie knife he
+always carried and plunged it, with a vicious thrust, into Hopkins'
+neck.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_L"></a>CHAPTER L</h2>
+<h3>THE COMMITTEE DISBANDS</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Alice Windham and her little son, named Robert for his
+grandfather, were passing Coleman's store, en route to Benito's
+office; it was a pleasant, quiet afternoon, almost windless. The
+infant Robert toddled manfully along on his five-year legs, holding
+tightly to his mother's hand.</p>
+<p>Men began to rush by, jostling them in their haste. The child
+drew closer to his mother. More men passed. Some of them were
+carrying guns. Coleman, emerging hurriedly, stopped at sight of
+Mrs. Windham.</p>
+<p>"Better go inside," he advised, "there's trouble afoot." He
+picked up the now frightened child and escorted the mother to his
+office. "Sit down," he invited. "It's comfortable here ... and
+safe."</p>
+<p>Before she could thank him he was off. At the door Miers Truett
+hailed him. "Hopkins stabbed," she heard him pant. He had been
+running. "May die ... Terry did it."</p>
+<p>They went off together. Other men stood in the doorway. "By the
+Eternal!" one was saying. "A Judge of the Supreme Court! What will
+Coleman do? They can't arrest Terry."</p>
+<p>There was a silence. Then the Monumental Fire Engine bell began
+to toll. "Come on," the second man spoke with a kind of thrill.
+"That's Coleman's answer."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Terry, Ashe and their companions ran pell mell up Jackson street
+until they reached the armory of the San Francisco Blues. It was
+rather an ornate building, guarded by iron doors. These stood open
+as the fugitives entered, but were immediately closed and guarded
+by a posse of pursuing Vigilantes, effectually preventing Law and
+Order reinforcements from the outside.</p>
+<p>Meanwhile the wounded Hopkins, screaming that he was murdered,
+had been carried into the Pennsylvania Engine House close by. Dr.
+Beverly Cole, the Vigilante surgeon chief, was summoned and
+pronounced the wound a serious one. Thereupon the bell was
+tolled.</p>
+<p>Half an hour later several thousand men under Marshal Doane
+marched to the armory. In front of it he drew up his forces and
+knocked on the inner portal.</p>
+<p>"What d'ye want?" came the heavy bass of David Terry, a little
+less arrogant than usual.</p>
+<p>"The committee has ordered the arrest of yourself and your
+party," answered Doane. "Will you come quietly?"</p>
+<p>There was excited murmuring; then Terry's heavy tones once more:
+"Do you mean that you will attack the person of a Supreme Court
+Justice?" he asked half incredulous.</p>
+<p>"We will arrest all those who commit or attempt murder."</p>
+<p>More whispering.</p>
+<p>"Very well," said Terry. "I will not subject my friends to
+violence.... But I warn you that the consequences will be
+serious."</p>
+<p>Doane ignored this, waiting quietly until the door was opened.
+Then he detailed a guard for the prisoners. At 4 o'clock--an hour
+after Hopkins had been wounded--Terry, Ashe and half a dozen others
+were locked in cells at Fort Vigilance. Once more the town was
+quiet.</p>
+<p>"It is all over," Benito told his wife, whom he found in
+Coleman's office. "We can go home now." Little Robert slept. His
+mother picked him up gently.</p>
+<p>"What will they do with Judge Terry?" she asked in an excited
+whisper.</p>
+<p>"If Hopkins dies they'll hang him sure as shooting," said
+Benito.</p>
+<p>Sterling Hopkins did not die, despite the serious nature of his
+wound. Had he done so many a different chapter might have been
+recorded in the history of San Francisco. Hopkins lived to pass
+into inconsequence. Terry was released to wreak once more his
+violent hatred on a fellow being, to perish in a third and final
+outburst of that savagery which marred his whole career.</p>
+<p>Captain Ashe and others taken in the Terry raid were soon
+released upon parole. The Supreme Court Judge remained a prisoner
+in Fort Vigilance for many weeks.</p>
+<p>After days and nights of wrestling with the situation, the
+Committee judged the prisoner guilty of assault. As the usual
+punishment within their power to inflict was not applicable in this
+case, the prisoner was discharged. It was pointedly suggested that
+the best interests of the State demanded his resignation. To this,
+however, Terry paid no heed.</p>
+<p>Broderick, who had been out of town, campaigning, met Ike
+Bluxome on Montgomery street.</p>
+<p>"I thought you folks were going to disband," he spoke
+half-banteringly. And Bluxome answered with, his usual gravity. "We
+thought so, too ... but Terry jumped into the picture. Now he's
+boasting that the Committee didn't dare to hold him longer."
+Bluxome smiled faintly. "He was meek enough till Hopkins had
+recovered ... offered to resign and quit the State forever."</p>
+<p>"I believe in Terry," Broderick remarked. "He's quarrelsome, but
+brave--and honest as a judge. I spent a lot of money in a newspaper
+fight to help him through this mess."</p>
+<p>Bluxome eyed him keenly. "Yes, I know you did. I know you were
+sincere, too, Broderick. That's why we didn't bother you for
+bribing the editors. But you will get no thanks from Terry. He's
+against you on the slavery question. He'd kill you tomorrow if he
+got a chance. You or any other man that's in his way. Watch out for
+him."</p>
+<p>"Nonsense," said Broderick, and walked away.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>On August 18th the Vigilantes paraded for the last time. There
+were four artillery batteries with an armament of fifteen cannon.
+Then came the Executive Committee followed by two companies of
+dragoons, each preceded by a band; the medical staff of fifty
+members, the Committee of 1851, some half a hundred strong, and
+four regiments of infantry.</p>
+<p>San Francisco was ablaze with decorations, vibrant with
+enthusiasm. Men, women, children, turned out to do the Vigilantes
+honor. A float symbolic of Fort Gunnybags was wildly cheered.</p>
+<p>Benito Windham, Adrian Stanley and their families stood at the
+window of an office which had "B. Windham, Attorney and Counselor,"
+inscribed upon its door. Benito had but recently passed his law
+examination and Alice was accordingly proud.</p>
+<p>Broderick, who stood near her with an arm about young Robert,
+looked out at the pageant.</p>
+<p>"They have been my enemies," he said, "but I take off my hat to
+your Committee. They have done a wondrous work, Benito lad."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LI"></a>CHAPTER LI</h2>
+<h3>SENATOR BRODERICK</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Swept clear of its lesser rascals, San Francisco still,
+ostensibly, was ruled by Freelon, Scannell, Byrne and other
+officials of the former city government, who had defied the
+people's invitation to resign. They did little more than mark time,
+however. Jury-packing was at an end for the Committee had posted
+publicly the names of men unfit to judge their fellows, and the
+courts had wisely failed to place them on venires.</p>
+<p>"Wait till November," was the watchword. And San Francisco
+waited. A committee of twenty-one was appointed at a mass meeting
+shortly before the city election. By this body were selected
+candidates for all municipal offices. Their ticket was the most
+diversified, perhaps, that ever was presented to a city's voters,
+for it included northern and southern men, Republicans, Democrats,
+Know-Nothings, Jews, Catholics and Protestants. Yet there was an
+extraordinary basic homogeneity about them. All were honest and
+respected business men, pledged to serve the city faithfully and
+selflessly. Former Marshal Doane of Vigilante fame was chosen as
+chief of police.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Broderick was the Windhams' guest at their new home on Powell
+street overlooking the bay when Benito's clerk brought them news of
+the election.</p>
+<p>"Every reform candidate wins by a landslide," cried the youth
+enthusiastically. "I cast my first vote today, Mr. Windham," he
+said proudly, "and I'm glad to know that the ballot-box had no
+false bottom." He turned to Broderick. "Your men fared mighty well
+too, sir, considering--" He paused and reddened, but the politician
+clapped him, laughing, on the shoulder. "That's right, my boy. Be
+honest," he declared.</p>
+<p>"It means you'll be our Senator next year," the lad said
+staunchly, holding out his hand. "They're all saying so down town.
+Allow me to congratulate you, sir."</p>
+<p>The keen, half-smiling eyes of Broderick took stock of Herbert
+Waters. Tall, shy and awkward, with a countenance fresh, unmarked,
+but eager and alert with clean ideals.</p>
+<p>"Thank you, son," he pressed the lad's hand vigorously. "Perhaps
+... if I should get to Washington, there'll be a place for you.
+You'll like it, wouldn't you? To see a little of the world?"</p>
+<p>"Would I?" cried the youth, delighted. "Try me." He departed,
+treading on air. Alice Windham shook a finger at her guest. "Dave,
+you mustn't trifle with our little prot&eacute;g&eacute;.... But
+you did it charmingly. Tell me, will you have to go about now,
+kissing babies and all that sort of thing?"</p>
+<p>"No doubt," he answered gaily. "So I'll practice on your little
+Bob." He caught the child up in his arms. "Got a kiss for Uncle
+Dave?" he asked.</p>
+<p>Robert's response was instant and vehement. Laughing, Broderick
+took from an inner pocket a long and slender parcel, which he
+unwrapped with tantalizing slowness. It revealed at last a gaily
+painted monkey-on-a-stick which clambered up and down with
+marvelous agility when Broderick pulled a string.</p>
+<p>"This, my little man," he said half soberly, "is how we play the
+game of politics." He made the jointed figure race from top to
+bottom while his eyes were rather grim. "Here, you try it, Bobbie,"
+he said. "I've played with it long enough."</p>
+<p>Broderick came to them aglow with triumph. He was a big man now,
+a national figure. Only a short time ago he had been a discredited
+boss of municipal politics. Now he was going to Washington. He had
+made William Gwin, the magnificent, do homage. He had all of the
+federal patronage for California. For years it had gone to Southern
+men. San Francisco's governmental offices had long been known as
+"The Virginia Poorhouse." Now its plums would be apportioned to the
+politicians of the North.</p>
+<p>Everywhere one heard the praise of Broderick's astuteness. He
+had a way of making loyal friends. A train of them had followed him
+through years of more or less continuous defeat and now they were
+rejoicing in the prospect of reward.</p>
+<p>He was explaining this to Alice. Trying to at least. "One has to
+pay his debts," he told her. "These men have worked for me as hard
+as any factory slaves. And without any definite certainty of
+compensation. Do you remember young Waters who came here last
+December to congratulate me? Yes, of course, he was Benito's clerk.
+I'd forgotten that. Well, what did that young rascal do but grow a
+beard and hire out as a waiter in the Magnolia Hotel. He overheard
+some plots against me in a corner of the dining room. And thus we
+were prepared to checkmate all the movements of the enemy.... I
+call that smart. I'll see that he gets a good berth. A senate
+clerkship. Something of the sort."</p>
+<p>"When do you leave?" asked Alice quickly.</p>
+<p>"Tomorrow.... Gwin is going also. I'll stop over in New York."
+He smiled at her. "When I left there I told my friends I'd not
+return until I was a senator. Eight years ago that was.... And now
+I'm making good my promise." He laughed boyishly.</p>
+<p>"You're very happy over it, aren't you, Dave?" she said with a
+shadow of wistfulness.</p>
+<p>"Why, yes, to be sure," he answered. His eyes held hers. "I'll
+miss you, of course.... All of you." He spoke with a touch of
+restraint.</p>
+<p>"And we'll miss YOU." She said more brightly, "I know you will
+do us much honor ... there in the nation's capital." Her hand went
+half way out toward him and drew back. "You'll fight always ... for
+the right alone ... Dave Broderick."</p>
+<p>He took a step toward her. "By God! I will promise you that. I'm
+through with ward politics, with tricks and intriguing. I'm going
+to fight for Freedom ... against Slavery. They're trying to fasten
+Slavery onto Kansas. President Buchanan is a Pennsylvanian but he's
+dominated by the Southern men. Washington is dominated by them.
+There aren't more than half a dozen who are not afraid of them." He
+drew himself up. "But I'm one. Douglas of Illinois is another. And
+Seward of New York. I've heard from them. We stand together."</p>
+<p>He laughed a shade bitterly. "It's difficult to fancy, isn't it?
+Dave Broderick, the son of a stone mason, a former fireman,
+bartender, ward-boss--fighting for an ideal? Against the Solid
+South?"</p>
+<p>She came closer. "Dave, you must not say such things." She
+looked about her. They were alone in the room, for Benito had gone
+out with Robert. "Dave, we're proud of you.... And I--I shall
+always see you, standing in the Senate Chamber, battling, like a
+Knight of Old...."</p>
+<p>Her face was upturned to his. His hands clenched themselves.
+With a swift movement he caught up his hat and stick. Fled from the
+house without a good-bye.</p>
+<p>As he went down the hill with long strides, his mind was torn
+between a fierce pride in his proven strength and a heart-wrecked
+yearning.</p>
+<p>He started the next morning for Washington.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LII"></a>CHAPTER LII</h2>
+<h3>A TRIP TO CHINATOWN</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Samuel Brannan brought the first news from Washington. Gwin, who
+owed his place to Broderick, had after all betrayed him. The
+bargained-for double patronage was not forthcoming. Broderick was
+grievously disappointed in Buchanan. There had been a clash between
+them. No Democratic Senator, the President had said, could quarrel
+profitably with the Administration. Which meant that Broderick must
+sustain the Lecompton Resolution or lose face and favor in the
+nation's forum. Things were at a bitter pass.</p>
+<p>"What's the Lecompton Resolution?" Alice asked.</p>
+<p>"It's a long story," Brannan answered. "In brief, it means
+forcing slavery on Kansas, whose people don't want it. And on the
+Lecompton Resolution hinges more or less the balance of power,
+which will keep us, here, in the free States, or give us, bound and
+gagged, to the South."</p>
+<p>"And you say Gwin has repudiated his pact?"</p>
+<p>"Either that ... or Buchanan has refused to sanction it. The
+result is the same. David doesn't get his patronage."</p>
+<p>"I'm glad! I'm glad!" cried Alice.</p>
+<p>Brannan looked at her astonished. "But ... you don't know what
+it means. His men, awaiting their political rewards! His
+organization here ... it will be weakened. You don't understand,
+Mrs. Windham."</p>
+<p>"I don't care," she said. "It leaves him--cleaner--stronger!"
+She turned swiftly and left the room. Brannan shrugged his
+shoulders. "There's no fathoming women," he thought.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>But Broderick, in far Washington, understood when there came to
+him a letter. It bore neither signature nor salutation:</p>
+<p>"When one is stripped of weapons--sometimes it is by the will of
+God! And He does not fail to give us better ones.</p>
+<p>"Truth! Righteousness! Courage to attack all Evil. These are
+mightier than the weapons of the World.</p>
+<p>"Oh, my friend, stand fast! You are never alone. The spirit of
+another is forever with you. Watching--waiting--knowing you shall
+win the victory which transcends all price."</p>
+<p>He read this letter endlessly while people waited in his
+ante-room. Then he summoned Herbert Waters, now his secretary, and
+sent them all away. Among them was a leader of the New York
+money-powers who never forgave that slight; another was an emissary
+of the President. Broderick neither knew nor cared. He put the
+letter in his pocket; walked for hours in the snow, on the banks of
+the frozen Potomac.</p>
+<p>That afternoon he reviewed the situation, was closeted an hour
+with Douglas of Illinois. The two of them sought Seward of New
+York, who had just arrived. To their conference came Chase and Wade
+of Ohio, Trumbull of Illinois, Fessenden of Maine, Wilson of
+Massachusetts, Cameron of Pennsylvania.</p>
+<p>Soon thereafter Volney Howard in San Francisco received an
+unsigned telegram, supposedly from Gwin:</p>
+<p>Unexpected gathering anti-slavery forces. Looks bad for
+Lecompton Resolution. President worried about California.</p>
+<p>In the southeastern part of San Francisco a few tea and silk
+merchants had, years before, established the nucleus of an Oriental
+quarter. Gradually it had grown until there were provision shops
+where queer-looking dried vegetables, oysters strung necklace-wise
+on rings of bamboo, eggs preserved in a kind of brown mold, strange
+brown nuts and sweetmeats were displayed; there were drugs-shops
+with wondrous gold and ebony fret work, temples with squat gods
+above amazing shrines.</p>
+<p>There were stark-odored fish-stalls in alleyways so narrow that
+the sun touched them rarely, barred upper-windows from which the
+faces of slant-eyed women peeped in eager wistfulness as if upon an
+unfamiliar world. Cellar doorways from which slipper-shod,
+pasty-faced Cantonese crept furtively at dawn; sentineled portals,
+which gave ingress to gambling houses protected by sheet-iron
+doors.</p>
+<p>On a pleasant Sunday, early in February, Benito, Alice, Adrian
+and Inez walked in Chinatown with David Broderick. The latter was
+about to leave for Washington to attend his second session in
+Congress. Things had fared ill with him politically there and at
+home.</p>
+<p>Just now David Broderick was trying to forget Congress and those
+battles which the next few weeks were sure to bring. He wanted to
+carry with him to Washington the memory of Alice Windham as she
+walked beside him in the mellow Winter sunshine. An odor of fruit
+blossoms came to them almost unreally sweet, and farther down the
+street they saw many little street-stands where flowering branches
+of prune and almond were displayed.</p>
+<p>"It's their New Year festival," Adrian explained. "Come, we'll
+visit some of the shops; they'll give us tea and cakes, for that's
+their custom."</p>
+<p>"How interesting!" remarked Inez. She shook hands cordially with
+a grave, handsomely gowned Chinese merchant, whose emporium they
+now entered. To her astonishment he greeted her in perfect English.
+"A graduate of Harvard College," Broderick whispered in her
+ear.</p>
+<p>Wong Lee brought forward a tray on which was an assortment of
+strange sweetmeats in little porcelain dishes; he poured from a
+large tea-pot a tiny bowl of tea for each of his visitors. While
+they drank and nibbled at the candy he pressed his hands together,
+moved them up and down and bowed low as a visitor entered; the
+latter soon departed, apparently abashed by the Americans.</p>
+<p>"He would not mingle with the 'foreign devils,'" Broderick
+smiled. "That was Chang Foo, who runs the Hall of Everlasting
+Fortune, wasn't it?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, the gambling house," Wong Lee answered. "A bad man," his
+voice sank to a whisper. "Chief of the Hip Lee tong, for the
+protection of the trade in slave women. He came, no doubt, to
+threaten me because I am harboring a Christian convert. See," he
+opened a drawer and took therefrom a rectangle of red paper. "Last
+night this was found on my door. It reads something like this:</p>
+<p>"Withdraw your shelter from the renegade Po Lun, who renounces
+the gods of his fathers. Send him forth to meet his fate--lest the
+blade of an avenger cleave your meddling skull."</p>
+<p>"Po was a member of the Hip Yees when he was converted; they
+stole a Chinese maiden--his beloved and Po Sun hoped to rescue her.
+That is why he joined that band of rascals."</p>
+<p>"And did he succeed?" asked Alice.</p>
+<p>"No," Wong Lee sighed. "They spirited her away--out of the city.
+She is doubtless in some slave house at Vancouver or Seattle. Poor
+Po! He is heartbroken."</p>
+<p>"And what of yourself; are you not in danger?" Broderick
+questioned.</p>
+<p>Wong smiled wanly. "Until the New Year season ends I am safe at
+any rate."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LIII"></a>CHAPTER LIII</h2>
+<h3>ENTER PO LUN</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Broderick returned to Washington; he wrote seldom, but the
+newspapers printed, now and then, extracts from his speeches. The
+Democrats were once more a dominating power and their organs
+naturally attacked the California Senator who defied both President
+and party; they asserted that Broderick was an ignorant boor, whose
+speeches were written for him by a journalist named Wilkes. But
+they did not explain how Broderick more than held his own in
+extemporaneous debate with the nation's seasoned orators. Many of
+these would have taken advantage of his inexperience, for he was
+the second youngest Senator in Congress. But he revealed a natural
+and disconcerting skill at verbal riposte which made him respected,
+if not feared by his opponents. One day, being harried by
+administration Senators, he struck back with a savagery which, for
+the moment, silenced them.</p>
+<p>The San Francisco papers--for that matter, all the journals of
+the nation--printed Broderick's words conspicuously. And, as they
+held with North or South, with Abolition or with Slavery, they
+praised or censured him.</p>
+<p>"I hope, in mercy to the boasted intelligence of this age, the
+historian, when writing the history of these times, will ascribe
+the attempt of the President to enforce the Lecompton resolution
+upon an unwilling people to the fading intellect, the petulant
+passion and the trembling dotage of an old man on the verge of the
+grave."</p>
+<p>"Buchanan will be furious," said Benito. "They say he's an old
+beau who wears a toupee and knee-breeches. All Washington that
+dares to do so will be laughing at him, especially the ladies."</p>
+<p>Benito returned from the office one foggy June evening with a
+copy of The Bulletin that contained a speech by Broderick. It was
+dusk and Alice had lighted the lamp to read the Washington dispatch
+as she always did with eager interest, when there came a light,
+almost stealthy knock at the door. Benito, rather startled, opened
+it. There stood a Chinese youth of about 18, wrapped in a huge
+disguising cloak. He bowed low several times, then held forth a
+letter addressed in brush-fashioned, India-ink letters to "B.
+Windham Esquire."</p>
+<p>Curiously he opened it and read:</p>
+<br>
+<p>"The hand of the 'avenger' has smitten. I have not long to live.
+Will you, in your honorable kindness, protect my nephew, Po Lun? He
+will make a good and faithful servant, requiting kindness with
+zeal. May the Lord of Heaven bless you."</p>
+<p>"WONG LEE."</p>
+<br>
+<p>Excitedly and with many gestures Po Lun described the killing of
+his uncle by a Hip Yee "hatchetman." But even in his dying hour
+Wong Lee had found means to protect a kinsman. Po Lun wept as he
+told of Wong Lee's goodness. Suddenly he knelt and touched his
+forehead three times to the floor at Alice's feet. "Missee, please,
+you let me stay?" he pleaded. "Po Lun plenty work. Washee, cookee,
+clean-em house." His glance strayed toward the cradle. "Takem care
+you' li'l boy."</p>
+<p>Benito glanced at Alice questioningly. "Would you--trust him?"
+he whispered.</p>
+<p>"Yes," she said impulsively. "He has a good face ... and we need
+a servant." She beckoned to Po Lun. "Come, I will show you the
+kitchen and a place to sleep."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Broderick came back from Washington and entered actively into
+the State campaign. He found its politics a hodge-podge of
+unsettled, bitter policies. The Republicans made overtures to him;
+they sought a coalition with the Anti-Lecompton Democrats as
+opposed to Chivalry or Solid South Democracy.</p>
+<p>Benito and Alice saw little of Broderick. He was here, there,
+everywhere, making impassioned, often violent speeches. Most of
+them were printed in the daily papers.</p>
+<p>"They'll be duelling soon," said Windham anxiously, as he read
+of Broderick's accusations of "The Lime Point Swindle," "The
+Mail-carrying Conspiracy," his reference to Gwin and Latham as "two
+great criminals," to the former, "dripping with corruption."</p>
+<p>Then came Judge Terry with an unprovoked attack on members of
+the Anti-Lecompton party. "They are the personal chattels of one
+man," he said, "a single individual whom they are ashamed of. They
+belong heart, soul, body and breeches to David C. Broderick. Afraid
+to acknowledge their master they call themselves Douglas
+Democrats.... Perhaps they sail under the flag of Douglas, but it
+is the Black Douglas, whose name is Frederick, not Stephen."</p>
+<p>Frederick Douglas was a negro. Therefore, Terry's accusation was
+the acme of insult and contumely, which a Southerner's imagination
+could devise. Broderick read it in a morning paper as he
+breakfasted with friends in the International Hotel and, wounded by
+the thrust from one he deemed a friend, spoke bitterly:</p>
+<p>"I have always said that Terry was the only honest man on the
+bench of a miserably corrupt court. But I take it all back. He is
+just as bad as the others."</p>
+<p>By some evil chance, D.W. Perley overheard that statement--which
+proceeded out of Broderick's momentary irritation. Perley was a man
+of small renown, a lawyer, politician and a whilom friend of Terry.
+Instantly he seized the opportunity to force a quarrel, and, in
+Terry's name, demanded "satisfaction." Broderick was half amused at
+first, but in the end retorted angrily. They parted in a violent
+altercation.</p>
+<p>"Dave," said Alice, as he dined with them that evening, "your're
+not going to fight this man?"</p>
+<p>"I shall ignore the fellow. I've written him that I fight with
+no one but my equal. He can make what he likes out of that. I've
+been in a duel or two. Nobody will question my courage."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Po Lun proved a model servitor, a careful nurse. Alice often
+left in his efficient hands her household tasks. Sometimes she and
+Benito took an outing of a Saturday afternoon, for there was now a
+pleasant drive down the Peninsula along the new San Bruno turnpike
+to San Mateo.</p>
+<p>The Windhams were returning from such a drive in the pleasant
+afternoon sunshine when a tumult of newsboys hawking an extra
+edition arrested them.</p>
+<p>"Big duel ... Broderick and Terry!" shrieked the "newsies."
+Benito stopped the horse and bought a paper, perusing the headlines
+feverishly. Alice leaned over his shoulder, her face white.
+Presently Benito faced her. "Terry's forced a fight on Dave," he
+said huskily. "They're to meet on Monday at the upper end of Lake
+Merced."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LIV"></a>CHAPTER LIV</h2>
+<h3>THE "FIELD OF HONOR"</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Chief of Police Burke lingered late in his office that Saturday
+afternoon. Twilight had passed into dusk, through which the street
+lamps were beginning to glimmer, leaping here and there into sudden
+luminance as the lamp-lighter made his rounds. Deep in the
+complexities of police reports Burke had scarcely noted the
+entrance of a police clerk who lighted the swinging lamp overhead.
+And he was only dimly aware of faint knocking at his door. It came
+a second, a third time before he roused himself. "Come in," he
+called, none too graciously.</p>
+<p>The door opened with an inrush of wind which caused his lamp to
+flicker. Before him stood a slight and well-gowned woman, heavily
+veiled. She was trembling. He looked at her expectantly, but she
+did not speak.</p>
+<p>"Please be seated, madam," said the chief of police.</p>
+<p>But she continued to stand. Presently words came to her. "Can
+you stop a duel? Will you?" Her hands went out in a gesture of
+supplication, involuntary, unstudiedly dramatic.</p>
+<p>"What do you mean?" he asked. "What duel?"</p>
+<p>"Senator Broderick ... Justice Terry," a wealth of hate was in
+her utterance of the second name. "They fight at sunrise Monday
+morning."</p>
+<p>"It's not our custom to--interfere in such cases," Burke said
+slowly. "What would you have me do? Arrest them?"</p>
+<p>"Anything," she cried. "Oh--ANYTHING!"</p>
+<p>He looked at her searchingly. "If you will raise your veil,
+madam, I will talk with you further. Otherwise I must bid you
+goodnight."</p>
+<p>For a moment she stood motionless. Then her hand went upward,
+stripped the covering from her features. "Now," she asked him, in a
+half-shamed whisper, "will you help me?"</p>
+<p>"Yes ... Mrs. Windham," said Burke.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>At daybreak on a raw, cold Monday morning, Broderick, with his
+seconds, Joe McKibben and Dave Colton, arrived at the upper end of
+Lake Merced. Terry and his seconds were already waiting. The
+principals, clad in long overcoats, did not salute each other.
+Broderick looked toward the sea. Terry stood implacable and silent,
+turning now and then to spit into the sun dried grass. The seconds
+conferred with each other. All seemed ready to begin when an
+officer, springing from a foam-flecked horse, rushed up to
+Broderick and shouted, "You are under arrest."</p>
+<p>Broderick turned half-bewildered. He was very tired, for he had
+not slept the night before. "Arrest?" he said blankly.</p>
+<p>"You and Justice Terry," said the officer; "I've warrants for ye
+both. Come along and no nonsense. This duel is stopped."</p>
+<p>Terry began an angry denunciation of the officer, but his
+seconds, Calhoun Benham and Colonel Thomas Hayes, persuaded him at
+length into a blustering submission. Principals and seconds,
+feeling like the actors in an ill-considered farce, rode off
+together. Later they were summoned to appear before Judge Coon.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>"The whole thing was a farce," Benito told his wife. "The case
+was dismissed. Our prosecuting counsel asked the judge to put them
+under bonds to keep the peace. But he refused."</p>
+<p>"Then the fight will go on?" asked Alice. Her face was
+white.</p>
+<p>"Doubtless," said Benito gloomily. "They say that Terry's been
+practicing with a pair of French pistols during the past two months
+and hopes to use them at the meeting. Old 'Natchez,' the gunsmith,
+tells me one's a tricky weapon ... discharges now and then before
+the trigger's pressed."</p>
+<p>"Why--that would be murder," Alice spoke aghast. "You must find
+David's seconds and warn them."</p>
+<p>"I've tried all afternoon to locate them ... they're hidden ...
+afraid of arrest."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Despite the secrecy with which the second meeting was arranged,
+some three score spectators were already assembled at the duelling
+ground when Broderick and Terry arrived. It was not far from where
+they had met on the previous morning, but no officer appeared to
+interrupt their combat. Both men looked nervous and worn,
+especially Broderick, who had spent the night in a flea-infested
+hut on the ocean shore at the suggestion of his seconds who feared
+further interference. Terry had fared better, being quartered at
+the farm house of a friend who provided breakfast and a flask of
+rum.</p>
+<p>The seconds tossed for position and those of Broderick won. The
+choice of pistols, too, was left to chance, which favored Terry.
+Joe McKibben thought he saw a smile light the faces of Benham and
+Hayes, a smile of secret understanding. The French pistols were
+produced and Hayes, with seeming care, selected one of them.
+McKibben took the other. He saw Benham whisper something to Terry
+as the latter grasped his weapon, saw the judge's eyes light with a
+sudden satisfaction.</p>
+<p>"You will fire between the words 'one' and 'two'," Colton
+announced crisply. "Are you ready, gentlemen?"</p>
+<p>Terry answered "Yes" immediately. Broderick, who was endeavoring
+to adjust the unfamiliar stock of the foreign pistol to his grasp,
+did not hear. McKibben repeated, "Are you ready, Dave?" in an
+undertone. Broderick looked up with nervous and apologetic haste,
+"Yes, yes, quite ready," he replied.</p>
+<p>"One," called Colton. Broderick's pistol spoke. Discharged
+apparently before aim could be taken; his bullet struck the ground
+at Terry's feet. Broderick, now defenseless, waited quietly. "Two,"
+the word came. Terry, who had taken careful aim, now fired.
+Broderick staggered, recovered himself. His face was distorted with
+pain. Slowly he sank to one knee; sidewise upon his elbow, then lay
+prone.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>It was Sunday, September 18th. In the plaza a catafalque had
+been erected, draped in black. Upon it stood a casket covered with
+flowers. An immense crowd was about it, strangely silent. Across
+the platform a constant stream of people filed, each stopping a
+moment to gaze at a face that lay still and peaceful, seemingly
+composed in sleep. It was a keen and striking face; the forehead
+bespoke intellect and high resolve; the jaw and chin indomitable;
+aggressive bravery. Over all there was a stamp of sadness and of
+loneliness that caught one's heart. Friends, political compatriots
+and erstwhile enemies paid David Broderick a final tribute as they
+passed; few without a twitching of the lips. Tears ran down the
+faces of both men and women. The crowd murmured. Then the splendid
+moving voice of Colonel Baker poured forth an oration like Mark
+Anthony above the bier of Caesar:</p>
+<blockquote>"Citizens of California: A Senator lies dead.... It is
+not fit that such a man should pass into the tomb unheralded; that
+such a life should steal, unnoticed, to its close. It is not fit
+that such a death should call forth no rebuke...."</blockquote>
+<p>His majestic voice rolled on, telling of Broderick's work, his
+character, devotion to the people. He assailed the practice of
+duelling, the bitter hatreds of a slave-impassioned South. His
+voice shook with emotion as he ended:</p>
+<blockquote>"Thus, O brave heart! we bear thee to thy rest. As in
+life no other voice so rung its trumpet blast upon the ear of
+freemen, so in death its echoes will reverberate amid our valleys
+and mountains until truth and valor cease to appeal to the human
+heart.<br>
+<br>
+<p>"Good friend! True hero! Hail and farewell."</p>
+</blockquote>
+<br>
+<a name="page260.jpg"></a>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/page260.jpg" width="85%" alt=
+""><br>
+<b>Terry, who had taken careful aim, now fired. Broderick
+staggered, recovered himself. Slowly he sank to one knee.</b></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LV"></a>CHAPTER LV</h2>
+<h3>THE SOUTHERN PLOT</h3>
+<br>
+<p>America stood on war's threshold. Even in the West one felt its
+imminence. The Republican victory had been like a slap in the face
+to slave-holding democracy. Its strongholds were secretly arming,
+mobilizing, drilling. And though Lincoln wisely held his
+peace--warned all the States which hummed with wild secession talk
+that their aggression alone could disrupt the Union--the wily
+Stanton, through the machinery of the War Department, prepared with
+quiet grimness for the coming struggle.</p>
+<p>Herbert Waters, after Broderick's death, returned to Windham's
+office. He was a full-fledged lawyer now, more of a partner than an
+employee. Waters was of Southern antecedents, a native of Kentucky,
+a friend, almost a prot&eacute;g&eacute;, of General Albert Sydney
+Johnson, commanding the military district of the Pacific.</p>
+<p>One evening in January, 1861, he dined with the Windhams. Early
+in the evening Benito was called out to the bedside of an ailing
+client, who desired him to write a will. After he was gone, young
+Waters turned to Alice.</p>
+<p>"You were a friend of Mr. Broderick's," he said impulsively. "He
+often spoke of you ... and once, not long before he died, he said
+to me: 'Herbert, when your soul's in trouble, go to Alice Windham
+...'"</p>
+<p>Mrs. Windham put aside her knitting rather hastily, rose and
+walked to the window. She made no answer.</p>
+<p>Presently the boy continued: "That time has come--now--Mrs.
+Windham."</p>
+<p>Alice crossed the room and laid a hand upon his shoulder.
+"Herbert! What's the matter?"</p>
+<p>His voice sank almost to a whisper. "There's a plot to overthrow
+the government in California. I'm a part of it.... I don't know
+what to do."</p>
+<p>"You don't mean ... you're a traitor?" she asked
+unbelievably.</p>
+<p>"I suppose I am or must be--to some one," he said wearily. "I'm
+caught in a net, Mrs. Windham. Will you help me get out? Advise me
+... as you did him. Oh, I know what you meant to Mr. Broderick.
+Your faith, your counsel!"</p>
+<p>"Please," said Alice sharply. "We won't speak of that. What can
+I do for YOU?"</p>
+<p>"I beg your pardon. I'm a thoughtless ass ... that's why I got
+into the pickle probably. They asked me to join...."</p>
+<p>"They? Who?" she asked. "Is he--Benito--?"</p>
+<p>"Oh, no, Benito's out of it completely. I'm a Southern boy, you
+know. That's why they let me in; a lot of them have money. A man we
+call 'The President' is our chief. And there's a committee of
+thirty, each of whom is pledged to organize a fighting force; a
+hundred men."</p>
+<p>Waters hesitated. "I took an oath to keep this all a secret ...
+but I'll trust you, Mrs. Windham. You've got to know something
+about it.... These men are hired desperadoes or adventurers. They
+know there's fighting to be done; they've no scruples.... Meanwhile
+they're well paid, ostensibly engaged in various peaceful
+occupations all around the bay. When our President gives the order
+they'll be massed--three thousand of 'em; well armed,
+drilled--professional fighters. You can see what'll happen...."</p>
+<p>"You mean they'll seize the forts ... deliver us to the enemy?"
+she spoke aghast.</p>
+<p>"I'm afraid you're right, Mrs. Windham."</p>
+<p>"Has your--ah--society approached General Johnson?"</p>
+<p>"Not yet--they're a little afraid of him."</p>
+<p>Alice Windham thought a moment. "When is your next meeting?"</p>
+<p>"Tomorrow. We are called by word of mouth. I've just received my
+summons."</p>
+<p>"Well, then," Alice told him, "make a motion--or whatever you
+call it--that the General be approached, sounded. They'll appoint a
+committee. They'll put you on it, of course. Thus you can apprise
+him of the plot without violating your oath. I don't believe he
+will aid you, for that means betraying his trust.... But if he
+should--come back to me. We will have to act quickly."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>A fortnight passed. Alice had learned by adroit questioning that
+the federal army was a purely negligible defensive force.</p>
+<p>An attack would result in the easy plundering of this storehouse
+as well as the militia armories of San Francisco. Thus equipped, an
+army could be organized out of California's Southern sympathizers,
+who would beat down all resistance, loot the treasury of its gold
+and perhaps align the State with Slavery's Cause.</p>
+<p>Rebellion, civil warfare loomed with all its horrors. If the
+plot that Waters had described were carried through there would be
+bloodshed in the city. Her husband had gone to Sacramento on
+business. Suppose it came tonight!</p>
+<p>Anxiously Alice hovered near the cot where ten-year Robert
+slept.</p>
+<p>There came a knock at the door.</p>
+<p>"Who's there?" she asked, hand upon the bolt. Then, with an
+exclamation of relief, she opened it. Admitted Herbert Waters.</p>
+<p>He was smiling. "I took your advice.... It worked."</p>
+<p>She pushed a chair toward the hearth. "Sit there," she ordered.
+"Tell me all about it."</p>
+<p>Waters gazed into the fire half abstractedly. "Three of us were
+named," he said, "to have a conference with General Johnson." He
+turned to her, his eyes aglow, "I'll never forget that meeting. He
+asked us to be seated with his usual courtesy. Then he said, quite
+matter-of-factly ... in an off-hand sort of way, 'There's something
+I want to mention before we go further. I've heard some foolish
+talk about attempts to seize the strongholds of the government
+under my charge. So I've prepared for all emergencies.' His eyes
+flashed as he added, 'I will defend the property of the United
+States with every resource at my command, with the last drop of
+blood in my body. Tell that to your Southern friends.'"</p>
+<p>"And your plot?"</p>
+<p>"It's been abandoned."</p>
+<p>"Thank God," Alice exclaimed fervently.</p>
+<p>"And thank yourself a little," he commented, smiling.</p>
+<p>"General Johnson is a brave and honorable gentleman," Alice
+said. "I wonder--who could have informed him?"</p>
+<p>Waters looked at her quickly. But he did not voice the thought
+upon his tongue.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>April 24 General E.V. Sumner arrived with orders to take charge
+of the department of the Pacific. General Johnson's resignation was
+already on its way to Washington.</p>
+<p>On the following morning came the news that Southern forces had
+attacked Fort Sumpter.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LVI"></a>CHAPTER LVI</h2>
+<h3>SOME WAR REACTIONS</h3>
+<br>
+<p>San Francisco adjusted itself to war conditions with its usual
+impulsive facility. Terry, who had resigned from the Supreme bench
+following Broderick's death, and who had passed through the
+technicalities of a farcical trial, left for Texas. He joined the
+Southern forces and for years California knew him no more. Albert
+Sydney Johnson, after being displaced by General Sumner, offered
+his services to Jefferson Davis and was killed at Shiloh. Edward
+Baker, now a Senator from Oregon, left the halls of Congress for a
+Union command. At the head of the California volunteer regiment he
+charged the enemy at Ball's Bluff and fell, his body pierced by
+half a dozen bullets. Curiously different was the record of
+Broderick's old foeman, William Gwin. In October, 1861, he started
+East via the Isthmus of Panama, accompanied by Calhoun Benham, one
+of Terry's seconds in the fateful duel. On the same steamer was
+General Sumner, relieved of his command in San Francisco, en route
+to active service. Convinced that Gwin and Benham plotted treason,
+he ordered their arrest, but not before they threw overboard maps
+and other papers. They escaped conviction. But Gwin found Paris
+safer than America--until the war had reached its close.</p>
+<p>When the first call came for volunteers by way of the pony
+express, Benito and Adrian talked of enlisting. Even thirteen-year
+Francisco, to his mother's horror, spoke of going as a drummer
+boy.</p>
+<p>"One would think you men asked nothing better than to kill each
+other," Inez Windham stormed.</p>
+<p>Yet she was secretly proud. She would have felt a mite ashamed
+had Adrian displayed less martial ardor. And to her little son she
+showed the portrait of Francisco Garvez, who had ridden with Ortega
+and d'Anza in the days of Spanish glory.</p>
+<p>Lithographs of President Lincoln appeared in household and
+office. Flags flew from many staffs and windows. News was eagerly
+awaited from the battle-front.</p>
+<p>Adrian had been rejected by a recruiting board because of a
+slight limp. He had never quite recovered from a knife wound in the
+groin inflicted by McTurpin. Benito had been brusquely informed
+that his family needed him more than the Union cause at present.
+Still unsatisfied he found a substitute, an Englishman named Dart,
+who fell at Gettysburg, and to whose heirs in distant Liverpool he
+gladly paid $5000.</p>
+<p>But Herbert Waters went to war. Alice kissed the lad good-by and
+pinned a rosebud on his uniform as he departed on the steamer.
+Little Robert clung to him and wept when they were separated.
+Adrian, Benito and a host of others shook his hand.</p>
+<p>A whistle blew; he had to scamper for the gang-plank. The vessel
+moved slowly, turning in her course toward the Golden Gate. Men
+were waving their hats and weeping women their handkerchiefs. Alice
+stood misty eyed and moveless, till the steamer passed from
+sight.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Though one heard loud-chorused sentiments of Unionism, there
+were many secret friends of slavery in San Francisco. One felt them
+like an undercurrent, covert and disquieting. To determine where
+men stood, a public meeting had been called for May 11. Where Post
+ran into Market street, affording wide expanse for out-door
+gathering, a speaker's stand was built. Here the issues of war, it
+was announced, would be discussed by men of note.</p>
+<p>"Starr King, our pulpit Demosthenes, is to talk," Benito told
+his wife. "They tell me King's a power for the Union. He's so
+eloquent that even Southerners applaud him."</p>
+<p>They were interrupted by Po Lun, their Chinese servitor, who
+entered, leading Robert by the hand. The boy had a soldier cap,
+fashioned from newspaper by the ingenious celestial; it was
+embellished with plumes from a feather duster. A toy drum was
+suspended from his neck; the hilt of a play-time saber showed at
+his belt. The Chinaman carried a flag and both were marching in
+rhythmic step, which taxed the long legs of Po Lun severely by way
+of repression.</p>
+<p>"Where in the world are you two going?" Alice laughed.</p>
+<p>"We go public meeting, Missee," said Po Lun. "We hea' all same
+Miste' Stah King pleach-em 'bout Ablaham Lincoln."</p>
+<p>"Hurrah!" cried Benito with enthusiasm. "Let's go with them,
+Alice." He caught her about the waist and hurried her onward.
+Bareheaded, they ran out into the morning sunshine.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>At Post and Market streets, thousands waited, though the day was
+young. Constantly the crowd increased. From all directions came
+pedestrians, horsemen, folks in carriages, buggies--all manner of
+vehicles, even farm wagons from the outlying districts. Most of
+them looked upon attendance as a test of loyalty. When it was
+learned that Governor Downey had sent his regrets a murmur of
+disapproval ran through the throng. He had been very popular in San
+Francisco, for he had vetoed the infamous Bulkhead bill, which
+planned to give private interests the control of the waterfront. He
+also pocketed a libel measure aimed at San Francisco's independent
+press. But in the national crisis--a time when political
+temporizing was not tolerated--he "did not believe that war should
+be waged upon any section of the Confederacy, nor that the Union
+should be preserved by a coercive policy."</p>
+<p>"I saw the letter," Adrian told Benito. "They were going to read
+it at first, but they decided not to. After all, the little
+Governor's not afraid to utter his thoughts."</p>
+<p>"I've more respect for him than for Latham," Windham answered.
+"He's to make a speech today. Only a few weeks ago he damned us up
+and down in Congress. Now he's for the Union. I despise a
+turn-coat."</p>
+<p>They were interrupted by a voice that made announcements from
+the platform.</p>
+<p>Starr King arose amid cheers. The preacher was a man of
+marvelous enthusiasm. His slight, frail figure gave small hint of
+his dynamic talents. He had come to California for rest and health.
+But in the maelstrom of pre-war politics, he found neither "dolce
+far niente" nor recuperation. He plunged without a thought of self
+into the fight for California.</p>
+<p>As he began to talk the crowd pressed forward, packed itself
+into a smaller ring. Medlied sounds of converse died into a
+silence, which was almost breathless.</p>
+<p>For an hour King went on discussing clearly, logically and
+deeply, all the issues of the Civil War; the attitude,
+responsibilities and influences of California, particularly San
+Francisco. He made no great emotional appeals; he dealt in no
+impassioned oratory nor invective.</p>
+<p>At the close there was a little pause, so deep the concentration
+of their listening, before the concourse broke into applause. Then
+it was hysteria, pandemonium. Hats flew in the air; whistles,
+cheers and bravos mingled. The striking of palm against palm was
+like a great volley. Again and again the preacher rose, bowed,
+retired. Finally he thanked them, called the meeting closed, and
+bade them a good afternoon. Only then the crowd began to melt.
+Fifty thousand people knew their city--and their State no
+doubt--were safe for anti-slavery.</p>
+<br>
+<a name="page268.jpg"></a>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/page268.jpg" width="85%" alt=
+""><br>
+<b>The concourse broke into applause. Then it was hysteria,
+pandemonium. Fifty thousand knew their city was safe for
+Anti-Slavery.</b></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LVII"></a>CHAPTER LVII</h2>
+<h3>WATERS PAYS THE PRICE</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Months passed to a tune of fifes and drums. Everywhere men were
+drilling. At more or less regular intervals one saw them marching
+down Montgomery street, brave in their new uniforms, running a
+gauntlet of bunting, flags and cheers. Then they passed from one's
+ken. Each fortnight the San Francisco papers published a column of
+Deaths and Casualties.</p>
+<p>In due time a letter came from Herbert Waters, now a sergeant of
+his troop. Benito promptly closed his office for the afternoon and
+ran home with it; he read the missive, while Alice, Robert and Po
+Lun listened, eager-eyed and silent:</p>
+<br>
+<p>"We have marched over historic ground, the trail of d'Anza,
+which Benito's forefathers broke in 1774. They say it is the
+hardest march that volunteer troops ever made and I can well
+believe it. There are no railroads; it was almost like exploring.
+Sometimes water holes are ninety miles apart. The desert is so hot
+that you in temperate San Francisco can't imagine it unless you
+think of Hell; and in the mountains we found snow up to our waists;
+were nearly frozen.</p>
+<p>"Apaches, Yumas, Navajos abound; they are cruel, treacherous
+fighters. We had some lively skirmishes with them. I received a
+poisoned arrow in my arm. But I sucked the wound and very soon, to
+everyone's surprise, it healed. There comes to me oft-times a
+strange conceit that I cannot be killed or even badly hurt ...
+until I have met Terry."</p>
+<p>There was a postscript written on a later date, proceeding from
+Fort Davis, Texas. Though the handwriting was less firm than the
+foregoing, there was a jubilance about the closing lines which even
+the Chinese felt. His eyes glowed with a battle spirit as Benito
+read:</p>
+<br>
+<p>"My prayer has been answered. At least in part. I have met and
+fought with Broderick's assassin. It was in the battle for Fort
+Davis, which we wrested from the enemy, that he loomed suddenly
+before me, a great hulk of a man in a captain's uniform swinging
+his sword like a demon. I saw one of our men go down before him and
+then the battle press brought us together. It seemed almost like
+destiny. His sword was red and dripping, his horse was covered with
+foam. He looked at me with eyes that were insane--mad with the lust
+of killing; tried to plunge the blade into my neck. But I caught
+his wrist and held it. I shouted at him, for the noise was hideous,
+'David Terry, I am Broderick's friend.' He went white at that. I
+let his wrist go and drew my own saber. I struck at him and the
+sparks flew from his countering weapon. My heart was leaping with a
+kind of joy. 'No trick pistols this time,' I cried. And I spat in
+his face.</p>
+<p>"But another's ball came to his rescue. I felt it, cold as ice
+and hot as fire in my lung. I made a wild slash at him as I fell;
+saw him wince, but ride away.... So, now I lie in a camp hospital.
+It has seemed a long time. But it is the fortune of war. Perhaps I
+shall see you soon."</p>
+<br>
+<p>"It isn't signed," Benito seemed a trifle puzzled. Then he
+found, in back of Waters' lines, a final sheet in a strange
+handwriting. Hurriedly he rose, walked to the open door. Below,
+upon the bay, storm was brewing; it seemed mirrored in his
+eyes.</p>
+<p>"What is it, dear?" asked Alice following. He handed her the
+single sheet of paper.</p>
+<p>"Dead!" her tone was stunned, incredulous.</p>
+<p>Benito's arm around her, dumbly, they went out together. Rain
+was beginning to fall, but neither knew it.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Several years of war made little change in San Francisco. The
+city furnished more than its quota of troops. The California
+Hundred, trained fighters and good horsemen, went to Massachusetts
+in 1862 and were assigned to the Second Cavalry. Later the
+California Battalion joined them. Both saw terrific fighting.</p>
+<p>But California furnished better than "man-power" to the
+struggle. Money, that all-important war-essential, streamed
+uninterruptedly from the coast-state mines to Washington. More than
+a hundred millions had already been sent--a sum which, in
+Confederate hands, might have turned the destiny of battle.
+California was loyal politically as well. Though badly treated by a
+remote, often unsympathetic government, she had scorned the plot to
+set up a "Pacific Republic" as the South had planned and hoped.</p>
+<p>Her secret service men were busy and astute, preventing
+filibustering plots and mail robberies. There was a constant
+feeling of uneasiness. San Francisco still housed too many Southern
+folk.</p>
+<p>Benito and Alice were dining with the Stanleys. Francisco and
+Robert were squatted on the hearth, poring over an illustrated book
+that had come from New York. It showed the uniforms of United
+States soldiers, the latest additions to the navy.</p>
+<p>"See," said Francisco, "here are pictures of Admiral Farragut
+and General Sherman." He was fifteen now and well above his
+father's shoulders. Robert, three years younger, looked up to
+admire his cousin. A smaller, more intellectual type of boy was
+Robert, with his mother's quiet sweetness and his father's
+fire.</p>
+<p>"Here's a picture of the fight between the Monitor and
+Merrimac," he cried interestedly, "When I grow up I shall join the
+navy and wear a cap with gold braid, like Farragut."</p>
+<p>"And I shall be a lawyer ... maybe a Senator or President," said
+Francisco, with importance.</p>
+<p>The men, talking politics over their cigars, did not hear this
+converse, but the women looked down at their sons, smiling fondly.
+"Yesterday Robert announced that he would be a poet," Alice
+confided. "He saw his father writing verses in a book."</p>
+<p>"And tomorrow he will want to be an inventor or a steam-boat
+captain," Inez answered. "'Tis the way with boys.... Mine is
+getting so big--I'm afraid he'll be going to war."</p>
+<p>Po Lun interrupted their further confidences. He rushed in
+breathless, unannounced. "Misstah Windham," he spoke to Benito.
+"One man wanchee see you quick in Chinatown.... He allee same
+plitty soon die. He say you sabe him. His name McTu'pin."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LVIII"></a>CHAPTER LVIII</h2>
+<h3>McTURPIN TURNS INFORMER</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Benito stared, bewildered, at the Chinaman. "McTurpin dying?
+Wants to see me?"</p>
+<p>Po Lun nodded. "He send-um China boy you' house. He wait
+outside."</p>
+<p>Benito rose. Alice laid detaining fingers on his arm. "Don't go
+... it's just a ruse. You know McTurpin."</p>
+<p>"The time is past when he can injure me," he answered gravely.
+"Something tells me it is right--to go." He kissed her, disengaged
+her arms about him gently, and went out. Adrian signaled to the
+Chinese. "Follow him...."</p>
+<p>Po Lun nodded understandingly.</p>
+<p>A shuffling figure, face concealed beneath a broad-brimmed hat,
+hands tucked each within the opposite sleeve, awaited Windham just
+outside the door. He set out immediately in an easterly direction,
+glancing over his shoulder now and again to make certain that
+Benito followed. Down the steep slope of Washington street he went
+past moss-grown retaining walls; over slippery brick pavements,
+through which the grass-blades sprouted, to plunge at length into
+the eddying alien mass of Chinatown's main artery, Dupont street.
+Here rushing human counter-currents ebbed and flowed ceaslessly.
+Burdens of all sizes and of infinite variety swept by on swaying
+shoulder yokes.</p>
+<p>Benito's guide paused momentarily on the farther side of Dupont
+street. Then, with a beckoning gesture, he dived into a narrow
+alley. Benito, following, found himself before the entrance of a
+cellarway. As he halted, iron trapdoors opened toward him,
+revealing a short flight of steps. The Chinese motioned him to
+descend, but the lawyer hesitated with a sudden sense of
+trepidation. Beneath the pavement in this cul-de-sac of Chinatown,
+he would be hidden from the world, from friends or rescue, as
+securely as though he were at the bottom of the bay.</p>
+<p>But he squared his shoulders and went down. A door opened
+noiselessly and closed, leaving him in total darkness. A lantern
+glimmered and he followed it along a narrow passage that had many
+unexpected turns. An odor, pungent, acrid, semi-aromatic troubled
+his nostrils. It increased until the lantern-bearing Chinese
+ushered him into a large square room, lined with bunks, three-deep,
+like the forecastle of a ship. In each lay two Chinese, face to
+face. They drew at intervals deep inhalations from a thick bamboo
+pipe, relaxing, thereupon into a sort of stupored dream. The place
+reeked with the fumes that had assailed Benito in the passage.
+Intuitively he knew that it was opium.</p>
+<p>A voice in English, faint and dreamy, reached him. "This way ...
+Mr. Windham.... Please."</p>
+<p>A white almost-skeleton hand stretched toward him from a lower
+bunk. A bearded face, cadaverously sunken, in which gleamed bright
+fevered eyes, was now discernible.</p>
+<p>"McTurpin!" he spoke incredulously.</p>
+<p>"What's left of me," the tone was hollow, grim. "Please sit down
+here, close to me.... I've something to tell you.... Something that
+will--"</p>
+<p>He sank back weakly, but his eyes implored. Benito took a seat
+beside the bunk. For a moment he thought the man was dead. He lay
+so limp, so silent!</p>
+<p>Then McTurpin whispered. "Bend closer. I will tell you how to
+serve your country.... There's a schooner called the 'J.M.
+Chapman.' Do you know where it lies?"</p>
+<p>"No," Benito answered, "but that's easily discovered. If you've
+anything to say--go on."</p>
+<p>McTurpin's bony fingers clutched Benito's sleeve. "Listen," he
+said. "Bend nearer."</p>
+<p>His voice droned on, at times imperceptible, again hoarse with
+excitement. Benito sat moveless, absorbed.</p>
+<p>Above the iron-trap doors Po Lun waited patiently.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>In an unlighted alley back of the American Exchange Hotel two
+figures waited, as if by appointment on the night of March 14. One
+was Ashbury Harpending, a young Southerner, and one of the
+Committee of Thirty which, several years before, had hatched an
+unsuccessful plot to capture California for the hosts of slavery.
+The other was an English boy named Alfred Rubery, large,
+good-looking, adventurous, nephew of the great London publicist,
+John Bright. It was he who spoke first in a guarded undertone:</p>
+<p>"Is everything ready--safe?"</p>
+<p>"Far as I can tell," responded Harpending.</p>
+<p>"How many men d'you get?" asked Rubery.</p>
+<p>"Twenty ... that's enough. We'll pick up more at Manzanillo.
+There we'll dress the Chapman into fighting trim, set up our guns
+aboard and capture the first Pacific Mail liner with gold out of
+California."</p>
+<p>"You're a clever fellow, Harpending. How'd you get those guns
+aboard without suspicion?"</p>
+<p>"Through a Mexican friend," replied Harpending. "He said he
+needed them to protect his mine in South America. Besides, we've a
+large assortment of rifles, revolvers, cutlasses. They're boxed and
+marked 'machinery.'"</p>
+<p>Further talk was interrupted by a group of men who approached,
+saluted, gave a whispered countersign. Others came, still others
+till the quota of a full score had arrived. At Harpending's command
+they separated to avoid attention. Silently they slipped through
+dimly-lighted streets, past roaring saloons and sailors' boarding
+houses to an unfrequented portion of the waterfront. There the trim
+black silhouetted shape of the schooner Chapman loomed against a
+cloudy sky.</p>
+<p>At the rail stood Ridgely Greathouse, big, florid, his burnside
+whiskers twitching.</p>
+<p>"Where the devil's Law?" he bellowed. "Lord Almighty! Here it's
+nearly midnight and no captain."</p>
+<p>"He's not with us," said Harpending quietly. But his face paled.
+Navigator William Law was the only one of whom he had a doubt. But
+the men must not suspect. "Law will be along soon," he added. "Let
+us all get aboard and make ready to sail."</p>
+<p>The men followed him and went below. Harpending, Greathouse and
+Rubery paced the deck. "He's drunk probably," commented Greathouse
+savagely.</p>
+<p>"Tut! Tut!" cried Rubery, "let us have no croaking." But at two
+o'clock, the navigator had not shown his face. They could not sail
+without a captain. Wearily they went below and left a sentinel on
+watch. He was a young man who had eaten heavily and drunk to even
+more excess. For a time he paced the deck conscientiously. Then he
+sat down, leaned against a spar and smoked. After a while the pipe
+fell from his listless fingers.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>"Ahoy, schooner Chapman!"</p>
+<p>The sleeping sentinel stirred languidly. He stretched himself,
+yawned, rose in splendid leisure. Then a shout broke from him. Like
+a frightened rabbit he dived through the hatchway, yelling at the
+top of his lungs.</p>
+<p>"The police! The police!"</p>
+<p>Harpending was up first. Pell mell, Rubery and Greathouse
+followed. A couple of hundred yards away they looked into the
+trained guns of the Federal warship Cyane. Several boatloads of
+officers and marines were leaving her side. From the San Francisco
+waterfront a police tug bore down on the Chapman.</p>
+<p>Greathouse stumbled back into the cabin. "Quick, destroy the
+evidence," he shouted.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LIX"></a>CHAPTER LIX</h2>
+<h3>THE COMSTOCK FURORE</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Press reports gave full and wide sensation to the capture of the
+"Chapman." Chief Lees took every credit for the thwarting of a
+"Plot of Southern Pirates" who "Conspired to Prey Upon the Golden
+Galleons From California." Thus the headlines put it. And Benito
+was relieved to find no mention of himself. Harpending he knew and
+liked, despite his Southern sympathies; Rubery he had met; an
+English lad, high-spirited and well connected. In fact, John Bright
+soon had his errant nephew out of jail. And when, a few months
+later, Harpending and Greathouse were released, Benito deemed the
+story happily ended. He heard nothing from McTurpin. No doubt the
+fellow was dead.</p>
+<p>That troublesome proclivity of wooing chance was uppermost again
+in Windham's mind. It was only natural perhaps, for all of San
+Francisco gambled now in mining stocks. The brokers swarmed like
+bees along Montgomery street; every window had its shelf of quartz
+and nuggets interspersed with pictures of the "workings" at
+Virginia City. It was Nevada now that held the treasure-seeker's
+eye.</p>
+<p>Within a year it had produced six millions. Scores of miners
+staked their claims upon or near the Comstock lode and most of them
+sought capital in San Francisco. Washerwomen, bankers,
+teamsters--every class was bitten by the microbe of hysterical
+investment. Some had made great fortunes; none apparently thus far
+had lost.</p>
+<p>In front of Flood and O'Brien's saloon a hand fell heartily upon
+Benito's shoulder. "Come in and have a drink," James Lick
+invited.</p>
+<p>Lick had "made a pile" of late. He was building a big hotel on
+Montgomery street; was recognized as one of San Francisco's
+financiers. He took Benito by the arm. "We've got to celebrate.
+I've made ten thousand on my Ophir shares. Carrying any mining
+stock, Benito?"</p>
+<p>"No," retorted Windham. He suffered Lick to lead him to the bar.
+Will O'Brien, a shrewd-faced merry Irishman, took their orders. He
+and Flood had bought an interest in Virginia City ... "a few fate
+only, but it's goin' t' make us rich, me lad," he said
+enthusiastically as he set their glasses out upon the bar. "We'll
+all be nabobs soon. Ain't that the God's truth, Mr. Ralston?"</p>
+<p>"Sure, my boy," a deep voice answered heartily. Windham turned
+and saw a man of forty, tall, well-molded, with a smiling forceful
+countenance. He seemed to smack of large affairs.</p>
+<p>Benito sipped his liquor, listening absorbedly while Ralston
+rattled off facts, figures, prospects in connection with the
+Comstock lode.</p>
+<p>"The Nevada mines will pay big," Benito heard him tell a group
+of bearded men who hung upon his utterances. "BIG! You can bet your
+bottom dollar on it. If you've money, don't let it stay idle."</p>
+<p>Benito bade his friend good-bye and went out, thinking deeply.
+He wondered what Alice would say if....</p>
+<p>Nesbitt of The Bulletin interrupted his musing. "Heard the news,
+Benito? We're to have a stock exchange next month."</p>
+<p>"The brokers are opposed to it. They don't want staple values,
+because, now and then, they can pick up a bargain or drive a hard
+trade. And they can peddle 'wildcat' stocks to tenderfeet.... We
+must stop that sort of thing."</p>
+<p>"Quite so," said Windham vaguely comprehending. Nesbitt babbled
+on. "There are to be forty charter members, with a fund of
+$2000."</p>
+<p>He took a pencil from his pocket. Tapped Benito's shirt front
+with it. "Buy a little Gould and Curry.... I've just had a tip that
+it will rise." He hurried on.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Windham let his clients wait that afternoon. He took a walk
+toward Twin Peaks on Market street. That lordly, though neglected,
+thoroughfare began to make pretensions toward commercial activity.
+Opposite Montgomery street was St. Ignatius Church. Farther down
+toward the docks were lumber yards and to the west were little
+shops, mostly one-storied, widely scattered. Chinese laundries, a
+livery stable or two. The pavements were stretches of boardwalk
+interspersed with sand or mud, trodden into passable trails. Down
+the broad center ran a track on which for years a dummy engine had
+labored back and forth, drawing flat cars laden with sand. Now most
+of the sand hills were leveled above Kearny street. Benito picked
+his way along the northern side of Market street till he came to
+Hayes. There the new horse car line ran to Hayes park. One was just
+leaving as he reached the corner, so he hopped aboard. As the
+driver took his fare he nodded cordially. Benito recognized him as
+a former client.</p>
+<p>"Listen," said the fellow, "you did me a good turn once, Mr.
+Windham. Now I'll return the compliment." He leaned nearer,
+whispered. "Buy some Hale and Norcross mining stock. I've got a tip
+straight from the president. It's going up."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>In the spring of '64, Virginia City mines still yielded treasure
+harvests unbelievable. Windham's bank account had risen to the
+quarter-million mark. Month by month he watched his assets grow by
+leaps more marvelous than even his romantic fancy could
+fore-vision. Stocks were climbing at a rate which raised the value
+of each share $100 every thirty days.</p>
+<p>San Francisco's Stock and Exchange Board, the leading of the
+three such institutions, had quarters in the Montgomery block.
+Electric telegraphs, which flashed its stock quotations round the
+world, made it a money power in London, Paris and New York.</p>
+<p>Benito had a home now in South Park, the city's new, exclusive
+residence section. From there the Omnibus Street Railway Company,
+in which he was a large stockholder, operated horse cars to North
+Beach. He wore a high hat now and spectacles. There were touches of
+gray in his hair.</p>
+<p>As he entered the exchange, a nimble-fingered Morse-operator was
+marking figures on a blackboard.</p>
+<p>Windham heard his name called; turning, met the outstretched
+hand of William Ralston. They chatted for a time on current
+matters. There was to be a Merchants' Exchange. Already ground was
+broken for the building. The Bank of California, one of Ralston's
+enterprises, would soon open its doors. Ralston was in a dozen
+ventures, all of them constructive, public spirited. He counted his
+friends by the hundreds. Suddenly he turned from contemplation of
+the blackboard to Benito.</p>
+<p>"Carrying much Virginia City nowadays?"</p>
+<p>Benito told him. Ralston knit his brow, deliberating. Then he
+said with crisp decision, "Better start unloading soon, my
+son."</p>
+<p>Benito was surprised; expostulated. Ophir, Gould and Curry,
+Savage were as steady as a rock. He didn't want to lose a "bag of
+money." Ralston heard him, nodded curtly, walked away. Disturbed,
+rebellious, Benito quit the place. He wanted quiet to digest the
+older man's advice. Ralston had the name of making few mistakes.
+Restlessly Benito sought an answer to his problem. In the end he
+went home undecided and retired dinnerless, explaining that he had
+a headache. He awoke with a fever the next morning. Alice,
+frightened by his haggard eyes, sent Po Lun for a doctor.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LX"></a>CHAPTER LX</h2>
+<h3>THE SHATTERED BUBBLE</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Benito looked up from his pillows, tried to rise and found that
+he had not the strength. Someone was holding his wrist. Oh, yes,
+Dr. Beverly Cole. Behind him stood Alice and Robert.... How tall
+the boy looked beside his little mother! They seemed to be tired,
+worried. And Alice had tears in her eyes.</p>
+<p>He heard the doctor's voice afar off, saying, "Yes, he'll live.
+The danger's over--barring complications." Once more his senses
+drifted, slept.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>In the morning Po Lun brought a cup of broth and fed him with a
+spoon.</p>
+<p>"Long time you been plenty sick," the Chinaman replied to his
+interrogation.</p>
+<p>"Where's Alice?"</p>
+<p>"She go 'sleep 'bout daylight.... She plenty ti'ed. Ebely night
+she sit up while you talk clazy talk."</p>
+<p>"You mean I've been delirious, Po Lun?"</p>
+<p>The Chinese nodded. "You get well now plitty soon," he said
+soothingly and, with the empty cup, stole softly out. After a time
+Alice came, rejoiced to find him awake. The boy, on his way to
+school, poked a bright morning face in at the door and called out,
+"Hello, dad! Better, ain't you?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, Robert," said Benito. When the boy had gone he turned to
+Alice. "How long have I been ill?"</p>
+<p>"Less than a fortnight--though it seems an age." She took his
+hand and cried a little. But they were happy tears. He stroked her
+hair with a hand that seemed strangely heavy.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Three weeks later, hollow-eyed, a little shaky, but eager to be
+back at work, Benito returned to his office. A press of work
+engaged him through the morning hours. But at noon, he wandered out
+into the bright June sunshine, walking about and greeting old
+friends. At the Russ House Cafe, where he lunched, William Ralston
+greeted him cordially.</p>
+<p>"How is the war going?" Windham asked. "I've been laid up for a
+month--rather out of the running."</p>
+<p>"Well, they're devilish hard fighters, those Confederates. And
+Lee's a master strategist.... But we've the money, Windham. That's
+what counts. The Union owes a lot to California and Nevada."</p>
+<p>"Nevada!" with the word came sudden recollection. "That reminds
+me, Ralston.... How are stocks?"</p>
+<p>But the banker, with a muttered excuse hastened off.</p>
+<p>Benito finished his coffee, smoked a cigarette and made his way
+again into the street.</p>
+<p>Presently he went into the stock exchange, almost deserted now,
+after the close of the morning session. O'Brien was there, smoking
+a long black cigar and chatting in his boisterous, confidential way
+with Asbury Harpending. The latter was babbling in real estate.</p>
+<p>"Hullo, Windham!" he greeted. "You don't look very fit.... Been
+ill?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," Benito told him. "Laid up since the last of May. What's
+new?"</p>
+<p>"Nothing much--since the bottom dropped out of Comstock."</p>
+<p>Instinctively Benito's hand went out toward a chair. He sank
+into it weakly. So that was the explanation of Ralston's swift
+departure.</p>
+<p>He felt the men's eyes upon him as he walked unsteadily to the
+files and scanned them. Ophir stock had dropped 50 per cent. Gould
+and Curry was even lower. Benito closed the book and walked blindly
+out of the exchange.</p>
+<p>After a time he heard footsteps following. Harpending's voice
+came, "Hey, there, Windham." Benito turned.</p>
+<p>"Cleaned out?" asked the other sympathetically.</p>
+<p>"Not--quite."</p>
+<p>"Then forget the stocks. They're tricky things at best.... I've
+a proposition that's a winner. Positively.... There's law work to
+be done. We need you."</p>
+<p>"Montgomery Street Straight" was the plan. It was to be extended
+across Market street either in a straight line or at an easy
+angle--over all obstructions to the bay.</p>
+<p>"But such a scheme would involve millions," Benito objected. "It
+would cut through the Latham and Parrott homes for instance.... Old
+Senator Latham would hold you up for a prohibitive price. And
+Parrott would fight you to a finish."</p>
+<p>"Quite right," returned Harpending. "That's where you come in,
+Benito. We want you to draw us a bill and lobby it through the
+Legislature...."</p>
+<p>"The thing is to make it a law. Then the Governor must appoint a
+commission. The Latham and Parrott properties will be condemned and
+we can acquire them at a fair price."</p>
+<p>"Very well," Benito answered. "It's a go."</p>
+<p>Several days after his talk with Harpending, Benito met Adrian
+and Francisco, the latter a tall, gangling lad of sixteen. Father
+and son were talking animatedly, discussing some point on which
+Francisco seemed determined to have his way.</p>
+<p>"What d'ye think of this youngster of mine?" Stanley questioned.
+"Scarcely out of short pants and wants to be a newspaper man! I say
+he should go to school a few years more ... to one of those Eastern
+colleges you hear so much about. I've the money. He doesn't need to
+work.... Talk to him, Benito. Make him listen to sense."</p>
+<p>"I don't wish to go East, Uncle Ben," said Francisco. "What good
+will it do me to learn Latin and Greek.... Higher mathematics and
+social snobbery? I want to get to work. Calvin McDonald's offered
+me a job on The American Flag."</p>
+<p>"What will you do? Write editorials or poetry?" his father
+asked.</p>
+<p>Francisco flushed. "I'll be a copy boy to start with.... And
+there's no harm in writing poetry. Uncle Ben does it himself."</p>
+<p>It was Benito's turn to redden. "Better let the boy have his
+way," he said hastily. "Journalism's quite an education in
+itself."</p>
+<p>"So, you're against me, too! Well, well. I'll see about it."</p>
+<p>They shook hands good-humoredly, the boy beaming. Afterward news
+reached Benito that young Stanley was a member of McDonald's
+staff.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>In 1865 there came the joyous news of victory and peace. The
+Democratic Press accepted Lee's surrender sullenly, printing now
+and then a covert sneer at Grant or Lincoln. Enmity died hard in
+Southern breasts.</p>
+<p>One morning as he came to town Benito saw a crowd of angry and
+excited men running down Montgomery street. Some of them brandished
+canes. "Down with Copperheads," they were shouting. Presently he
+heard a crash of glass, a cry of protest. Then a door gave with a
+splintering sound. The crowd rushed through, into the offices and
+print rooms of the Democratic Press.</p>
+<p>There was more noise of wreckage and destruction. Broken chairs,
+tables, typecases, bits of machinery hurtled into the street.
+Benito grasped the arm of a man who was hurrying by. "What's
+wrong?" he asked.</p>
+<p>The other turned a flushed and angry mien toward him. "God
+Almighty! Haven't you heard? President Lincoln was shot last night
+... by a brother of Ed Booth, the actor.... They say he's dying."
+He picked up a stone and hurled it at an upper window of the
+Press.</p>
+<p>"We'll show these traitor-dogs a thing or two," he called. "Come
+on, boys, let's wreck the place!"</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXI"></a>CHAPTER LXI</h2>
+<h3>DESPERATE FINANCE</h3>
+<br>
+<p>The publishers of the Democratic Press had their lesson. In a
+city draped with black for a beloved President, they swept up the
+glass of their shattered windows, picked up what remained of
+scattered type, reassembled machinery and furniture--and
+experienced a change of heart. Presently The Examiner burgeoned
+from that stricken journalistic root.</p>
+<p>Francisco was now a member of the Alta staff, the aggressive but
+short-lived American Flag, having ceased publication several years
+after the war. Adrian admitted to Benito that the boy had justified
+his bent for journalistic work.</p>
+<p>"The young rascal's articles are attracting attention. He even
+signs some of them; now and then they print one of his
+verses--generally a satire on local events. And he gets passes to
+all of the theaters. Inez and I are going to 'Camille'
+tonight."</p>
+<p>"So are Alice and myself, by a coincidence." Benito lighted a
+cigar and puffed a moment; then he added, "Do you know what that
+boy of mine proposes to do?"</p>
+<p>"No," said Adrian. "Become an actor--or a politician?"</p>
+<p>"Well, it's almost as bad.... He wants to be a letter
+carrier.... The new free delivery routes will be established soon,
+you know."</p>
+<p>"Yes, the town's growing," commented Stanley. "Well, you'd
+better let young Robert have his way. He's almost as big as you....
+How is 'Montgomery Straight' progressing?"</p>
+<p>"Fairly well," returned Benito. "Latham and Parrott are fighting
+us as we expected. But Harpending's acquired Selim Woodworth's lot
+on Market street, just where Montgomery will cut through." He
+laughed. "Selim wanted half a million for it.... He'd have got it
+in a day or two because we had to have the property. But along
+comes an earthquake and literally shakes $350,000 out of
+Woodworth's pockets. Frightened him so badly that he sold for
+$150,000 and was glad to get it."</p>
+<p>"Well, even earthquakes have their uses," Adrian smiled. "Here
+comes Francisco. I'll have him see Maguire and arrange it so that
+we can sit together at the show."</p>
+<p>"Who is the lanky fellow with him?" asked Benito. "Looks as if
+he would appreciate a joke."</p>
+<p>"Oh, that's his friend, Sam Clemens," Adrian answered. "An
+improvident cuss but good company. He writes for the Carson Appeal
+under the name of Mark Twain."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Benito, that afternoon, was closeted with Harpending and Ralston
+in the Bank of California. The financier, who was backing the
+Montgomery street venture, regarded Harpending a trifle
+quizzically. "Once," he said, "you tried to be a pirate, Asbury....
+Oh, no offense," he laid a soothing hand upon the other's knee.
+"But tonight I need a desperate man such as you. Another like
+Benito. We're going to raid the Mint."</p>
+<p>"What?" cried Windham, startled.</p>
+<p>"You'll need steadier nerves than that for our enterprise."
+Ralston passed his cigar case to the two men, saw them puffing
+equably ere he continued. "You know how tight the money situation
+has become because President Grant declines to let us exchange our
+gold bars for coin. With eight tons of gold in our vault we almost
+had a run this afternoon.... Now, that's ridiculous." His fist
+smote the table. "Grant doesn't know the ropes.... But that's no
+reason why Hell should break loose tomorrow morning."</p>
+<p>"What are you going to do?" Benito asked.</p>
+<p>"Use my common sense--and save the banks," said Ralston shortly.
+"You two must meet me here this evening. Soon as it's dark. You'll
+have a hard night's work. My friend Dore will be there also. Can
+you suggest anyone else--absolutely to be trusted, who will ask no
+questions?"</p>
+<p>"My son," Benito answered; "Robert likes work. He wants to be a
+postal-carrier."</p>
+<p>"Bring him by all means," said Ralston. "If he helps us out
+tonight, I'll see that he gets anything he wants in San
+Francisco."</p>
+<p>He was boyishly eager; full of excited plans for his daring
+scheme. The two men left him chuckling as he bit the end off a
+fresh cigar.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>It was nearly nine o'clock when they left the Bank of
+California. Theater-going crowds were housed at the play; the
+streets were extraordinarily silent as the quintet made their way
+toward the Mint. Robert was breathing hard. The dark streets, the
+mysterious Empire ahead, the hint of danger and a mighty stake
+distilled a toxic and exhilarating fever in his blood. As the
+pillared front of the federal treasure house loomed up before them,
+Ralston made a sign for them to halt, advancing cautiously. With
+astonishment they saw him pass through the usually guarded door and
+disappear. Presently he emerged with two sacks.</p>
+<p>"Robert and Benito, take these to the bank," he whispered. "The
+watchmen there will give you the equivalent in gold bars to bring
+back." He turned to Harpending and Dore. "I'll have yours ready in
+a minute." Once more he vanished within.</p>
+<p>Robert picked up the bag allotted to him. It was very heavy. As
+he lifted it to his shoulder, the contents clinked.</p>
+<p>"Gold coin," said his father, significantly.</p>
+<p>"What if we're caught?" asked the boy, half fearfully. Ralston,
+reappearing, heard the question.</p>
+<p>"You won't be," he said. "I've attended to that."</p>
+<p>His assurance proved correct. All night the four men toiled
+between the Mint and the Bank of California sweating, puffing,
+fatigued to the brink of exhaustion. With the first streak of dawn,
+Ralston dismissed them.</p>
+<p>"You've brought five ton of gold coin to the vault," he said,
+his eyes agleam. "You've saved San Francisco the worst financial
+panic that ever a short-sighted federal government unwittingly
+precipitated." Suddenly he laughed and threw his arms wide. "At ten
+o'clock the frightened sheep will come running for their
+deposits.... Well, let 'em come."</p>
+<p>"And now you boys go home and get some sleep. By the Eternal,
+you deserve it!"</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXII"></a>CHAPTER LXII</h2>
+<h3>ADOLPH SUTRO'S TUNNEL</h3>
+<br>
+<p>William C. Ralston's Bank of California had become the great
+financial institution of the West. Ralston was the Rothschild of
+America. Through him Central Pacific Railway promoters borrowed
+$3,000,000 with less formality than a country banker uses in
+mortgaging of a ten-acre farm. Two millions took their unobtrusive
+wing to South America, financing mines he had never seen. In
+Virginia City William Sharon directed a branch of the Bank of
+California and kept his eye on mineral investment. Benito sat in
+Ralston's office one morning, smoking and discussing the Montgomery
+street problem when a clerk tapped at the door.</p>
+<p>"A fellow's out here from Virginia City," he said nervously.
+"Wants to see you quickly 'and no bones about it.' That's what he
+told me."</p>
+<p>"All right, send him in," said Ralston laughing. "Stay, Benito.
+He won't take a minute...." Ere he finished there stalked in a
+wild-eyed individual clad in boots, the slouch hat of the mining
+man, a suit of handsome broadcloth, mud-bespattered and a heavy
+golden watch chain with the usual nugget charm. He was a clean-cat
+type of mining speculator from Nevada.</p>
+<p>"Sit down," invited Ralston. "Have a smoke."</p>
+<p>The intruder glared at Windham; then he eased himself
+uncomfortably into a spacious leather-covered seat, bit off the end
+of a cigar, half-viciously and, having found the cuspidor,
+began.</p>
+<p>"I've something for your ear alone, Bill Ralston...."</p>
+<p>"Meet Benito Windham," Ralston introduced. "Speak out. I have no
+secrets from my friends."</p>
+<p>The other hemmed and hawed. He seemed averse to putting into
+words some thought which troubled him beyond repression. "Do you
+know," he burst out finally, "that your partner, Sharon, has become
+the most incurable and dissolute gambler in Nevada?"</p>
+<p>"You don't say." Ralston did not seem as shocked as one might
+have expected. "Well, my friend, that sounds quite serious....
+What's poor Bill's particular kind of--vice?"</p>
+<p>"Poker," said the visitor. "By the Eternal, that man Sharon
+would stake his immortal soul on a four-card flush and never bat an
+eye. Time and time again I've seen it."</p>
+<p>Ralston leaned back comfortably, his folded hands across his
+middle. His speculative stare was on a marble statue. At length he
+spoke. "Does Sharon win or lose?"</p>
+<p>"Well," the other man admitted, "I must say he wins...."</p>
+<p>"Then he's just the man I want," Ralston spoke with emphasis. He
+rose, held out his hand toward the flustered visitor. "Thanks for
+telling me.... And now we'll all go for a drink together."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>"That's Bill Ralston!" said Benito to his wife. They laughed
+about the anecdote which Windham had related at the dinner table.
+Robert, in his new letter-carrier's uniform, spoke up. "I saw him
+at the bank this afternoon.... There was a letter from Virginia
+City and he kept me waiting till he opened it. Then he slapped me
+on the shoulder. 'If the contents of that letter had been known to
+certain people, son,' he told me, 'they'd have cleaned up a fortune
+on the information.' Then he handed me a gold-piece. But I wouldn't
+take it. 'Don't be proud,' he said and poked me in the ribs. 'And
+don't forget that Bill Ralston's your friend.'"</p>
+<p>"Everybody calls him 'Bill,'" his mother added. "Washerwomen,
+teamsters, beggars, millionaires. If ever there was a friend of the
+people it is he."</p>
+<p>"Some day, though, he'll overplay his game," Benito
+prophesied.</p>
+<p>Ralston had been euchered out of a railroad to Eureka, planned
+by Harpending and himself and opposed by the Big Four; "Montgomery
+to the Bay" was meeting with a host of difficulties; the Grand
+Hotel was building and Kearny street, where he owned property, was
+being widened. Ralston's genial countenance showed sometimes a
+little strained pucker between the eyes.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Now and then Benito met a man named Adolph Sutro. They called
+him "The Man With a Dream." Stocky, under average height, intensely
+businesslike, he was--a German Burgomeister type, with Burnside
+whiskers and a purpose. He proposed to drive a tunnel four miles
+long from Carson valley, and strike the Comstock levels 1800 feet
+below the surface.</p>
+<p>An English syndicate was backing him. The work was going on.</p>
+<p>Much of Sutro's time was spent in Virginia City, superintending
+the work on his tunnel. But he fell into the habit of finding
+Benito whenever he came to town--dragging him from home with
+awkward but sincere apologies to Alice.</p>
+<p>"You will lend me your husband, Hein?" he would say. "I like to
+tell him of my fancies, for he understands ... the others laugh at
+me."</p>
+<p>Alice smiled into his broad, good humored face. "That's very
+silly of them."</p>
+<p>"Donnerwetter! Some day they will laugh the other way around,"
+he threatened.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Benito and Sutro usually drove or rode through the Presidio and
+out along a road which skirted cliffs and terminated at the Seal
+Rock House. There they dined and watched the seals disporting on
+some sea-drenched rocks, a stone's throw distant. And there Sutro
+indulged in more dreams.</p>
+<p>"Some day I shall purchase that headland and build me a home ...
+and farther inland I shall grow a forest out of eucalyptus trees.
+They come from Australia.... One can buy them cheap enough.... They
+grow fast like bamboo in the Tropics." He clapped a hand upon
+Benito's knee. "I shall call it Mount Parnassus."</p>
+<p>Benito tried to smile appreciatively. He felt rather dubious
+about the scheme. But he liked to see the other's quiet eyes flash
+with an unexpected fire. Perhaps his genius might indeed reclaim
+this desolate region. Inward from the beach lay the waste of
+sand-hills known as Golden Gate Park. There was talk among the real
+estate visionaries of making it a pleasure ground.</p>
+<p>So regularly did they end their outings with a dinner at the
+Seal Rock House that Alice always knew where to find her husband in
+case some clamorous client sought Benito's aid. And tonight as an
+attendant called his name he answered with no other thought than
+that he would be asked to make a will or soothe some jealous and
+importunate wife who wanted a divorce without delay. They usually
+did want them that way. He rose, leisurely enough, and made his way
+to the door. There, instead of the usual messenger boy, stood
+Alice.</p>
+<p>"You must come at once," she panted. "Robert has been robbed of
+an important letter to the bank. They talk of arresting him....
+Ralston wants you at his office."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXIII"></a>CHAPTER LXIII</h2>
+<h3>LEES SOLVES A MYSTERY</h3>
+<br>
+<p>In the president's office at the Bank of California, Benito
+found his son, pale but intrepid. He was being questioned by
+William Sharon and a postoffice inspector. Ralston, hands crammed
+into trousers pockets, paced the room disturbedly.</p>
+<p>"You admit, then, that the envelope was given you?" Sharon was
+asking truculently as Benito entered.</p>
+<p>"Yes," said Robert, "I remember seeing such a letter as I packed
+my mail."</p>
+<p>"Humph!" exclaimed Sharon. He seemed about to ask another
+question, but the postal official anticipated him. "Explain what
+happened after you left the mail station."</p>
+<p>"Nothing much ... I walked up Washington street as usual. On the
+edge of Chinatown a woman stopped me ... asked me how to get to
+Market street."</p>
+<p>"Is that all?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, that's all," said Robert. "She seemed confused by our
+criss-cross streets. I had to tell her several times ... to point
+the way before she understood."</p>
+<p>"And nothing else happened?"</p>
+<p>"Nothing else--except that Mr. Ralston asked me for the letter.
+Said he was expecting it.... I searched my bag but couldn't find
+it."</p>
+<p>"Tell us more about this woman. Give us a description of
+her."</p>
+<p>"Spanish type," said Robert tersely. "Very pleasant; smiled a
+lot and had gold fillings in her teeth. Must have been quite
+handsome when she was young."</p>
+<p>The inspector stroked his chin reflectively. "Didn't set the bag
+down, did you? ... when you pointed out the way, for instance?"</p>
+<p>"Let me see.... Why, yes--I did. I hadn't thought of
+that...."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Captain of Detectives I.W. Lees was making a record for himself
+among the nation's crime-detectors. He was a swarthy little man,
+implacable as an Indian and as pertinacious on a trail. He never
+forgot a face and no amount of disguise could hide its identity
+from his penetrating glance. Without great vision or imagination,
+he knew criminals as did few other men; could reason from cause to
+effect within certain channels, unerringly. He was heartless,
+ruthless--some said venal. But he caught and convicted felons,
+solved the problems of his office by a dogged perseverance that
+ignored defeat. For, with a mind essentially tricky, he anticipated
+tricksters--unless their operations were beyond his scope.</p>
+<p>It was 10 o'clock at night, but he was still at work upon a case
+which, up to now, had baffled him--a case of opium smuggling--when
+Robert and Benito entered. At first he listened to them
+inattentively. But at Robert's story of the woman, he became
+electrified.</p>
+<p>"Rose Terranza! Dance hall girl back in the Eldorado days! Queen
+of the Night Life under half a dozen names! Smiling Rose, some
+called her. Good clothes and gold in her teeth! I've her
+picture--wait a minute." He pulled a cord; a bell jangled
+somewhere. An officer entered.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Chinatown at midnight. Dark and narrow streets; fat, round paper
+lanterns here and there above dim doorways; silent forms,
+soft-shuffling, warily alert.</p>
+<p>"Wait one minee," said Po Lun. "I find 'em door."</p>
+<p>Following the Chinaman were Captain Lees, with his half a dozen
+"plain clothes men," Benito, Robert and the mail inspector.
+Presently Po spoke again. "Jus' alound co'ne'" (corner), he
+whispered. "Me go ahead. Plitty soon you come. You hea' me makem
+noise ... allee same cat."</p>
+<p>Lees descried him as he paused before a dimly lighted door.
+Evidently he was challenged; gave a countersign. For the door swung
+back. Po Lun passed through. Nothing happened for a time. Then a
+piercing feline wail stabbed through the night.</p>
+<p>"M-i-i-a-o-w-r-r-r!"</p>
+<p>Lees sprang forward, pressed his weight against the partly-open
+portal; flashed his dark lantern on two figures struggling
+violently. His hand fell on the collar of Po Lun's antagonist; a
+policeman's "billy" cracked upon his skull. "Tie and gag him," said
+the captain. "Leave a man on guard.... The rest of you come
+on."</p>
+<p>Po Lun leading, they went, single file through utter blackness.
+Now and then the white disc of Lees' lantern, now in Po Lun's hand,
+gleamed like a guiding will-o-wisp upon the tortuous path.</p>
+<p>Suddenly Benito felt the presence of new personalities. They
+seemed to be in a room with other people. Several dark lamps
+flashed at Po Lun's signal. They revealed a room sumptuously
+furnished. Teakwood chairs, with red embroidered backs and
+cushions, stood about the walls. Handsome gilded grillwork screened
+a boudoir worthy of a queen. Clad in the laciest of robes de
+chambre, a dark-skinned woman sat on the edge of a canopied bed.
+She was past her first youth, but still of remarkable beauty. At
+the foot of the bed stood McTurpin--pale ghost of his former self.
+He looked like a cornered rat ... and quite as dangerous. Two
+Chinese were crouched against a lacquered screen.</p>
+<p>"What do you want?" asked the woman, her voice shrill with
+anger.</p>
+<p>"Take your hand out from under that pillow!" ordered Lees. "No
+nonsense, Smiling Rose."</p>
+<p>Reluctantly the ringed and tapered fingers that had clutched
+apparently a hidden weapon came into view. "Light the lamps," said
+Lees, and one of his men performed this office.</p>
+<p>"That's the woman, father," spoke young Robert,
+unexpectedly.</p>
+<p>"Put the bracelets on her," ordered Lees, "and search the
+place." A man stepped forward.</p>
+<p>But they had not counted on McTurpin. "Let her be," he screamed.
+A pistol flashed. The officer went down at Rose's feet.</p>
+<p>Instantly there was confusion. The room was filled with
+shuffling Oriental figures. The lights went out. Powder-flashes
+leaped like fireflies in the darkness. Through it all Lees could be
+heard profanely giving orders.</p>
+<p>Then, as swiftly, it was over. Somewhere a door closed. Lees
+leaped forward just in time to hear an iron bar clang into
+place.</p>
+<p>"Gone," he muttered, as his light searched vainly for the
+woman.</p>
+<p>"Who's that on the bed?" asked Benito.</p>
+<p>"The cursed opium-wreck, McTurpin," Lees replied impatiently. "I
+planted him when I saw Dick go down." He bent above the wounded
+officer while Benito relighted the lamps and examined curiously the
+body of his ancient enemy. For McTurpin was dead. He had evidently
+tried to reach the woman as he fell. His clawlike fingers clutched,
+in rigor mortis, her abandoned robe. On the floor, where it had
+fallen from her bosom, doubtless in the hasty flight, there lay a
+crumpled, bloodstained envelope. Robert springing forward, seized
+it with an exclamation. It was addressed to William C. Ralston.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXIV"></a>CHAPTER LXIV</h2>
+<h3>AN IDOL TOPPLES</h3>
+<br>
+<p>News had come in early spring of Robert Windham senior's death
+in Monterey; less than two months afterward his wife, Anita, lay
+beside him in the Spanish cemetery.</p>
+<p>The old Californians were passing; here and there some venerable
+Hidalgo played the host upon broad acres as in ancient days and
+came to San Francisco, booted, spurred, attended by a guard of
+vaqueros. But a new generation gazed at him curiously and, after a
+lonely interval, he departed.</p>
+<p>Market street was now a lordly thoroughfare; horse-cars jingled
+merrily along the leading streets. Up Clay street ran that wonder
+of the age, a cable-tram invented by old Hallidie, the engineer.
+They had made game of him for years until he demonstrated his
+invention for the conquering of hills. Now the world was seeking
+him to solve its transportation problems.</p>
+<p>Ralston, as usual, was riding on the crest of fortune. His was a
+veritable lust for city building. Each successive day he founded
+some new enterprise.</p>
+<p>"Like a master juggler," said Benito to his wife, "he keeps a
+hundred interests in the air. Let's see. There are the Mission
+Woolen Mills, the Kimball Carriage Works, the Cornell Watch
+Factory--of all things--the West Coast Furniture plant, the San
+Francisco Sugar Refinery, the Grand Hotel, a dry dock at Hunter's
+Point, the California Theater, a reclamation scheme at Sherman
+Island, the San Joaquin Valley irrigating system, the Rincon Hill
+cut, the extension of Montgomery street ..." he checked them off on
+his fingers, pausing finally for lack of breath.</p>
+<p>"You've forgotten the Palace Hotel," said Alice smiling.</p>
+<p>"No," Benito said, "I hadn't got that far. But the Palace is
+typical. Ralston wants San Francisco to have the best of everything
+the world can give. He's mad about this town. It's wife and child
+to him. Why it's almost his God!"</p>
+<p>Alice looked into his eyes. "You're fearful for your prince! You
+Monte Cristo!"</p>
+<p>"Yes," he said, "I'm frankly worried. Something's got to
+drop.... It's too--too splendid."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>As he went down Market street toward Montgomery, Benito paused
+to observe the new Palace Hotel. Hundreds of bricklayers,
+carpenters and other workmen were raising it with astonishing
+speed. Hod-carriers raced up swaying ladders, steam-winches puffed
+and snorted; great vats of lime and mortar blockaded the street. It
+was to have a great inner court upon which seven galleries would
+look down. Ralston boasted he would make it a hotel for travelers
+to talk of round the world. And no one in San Francisco doubted
+it.</p>
+<p>Benito, eyes upraised to view the labors of a bustling human
+hive, almost collided with two gentlemen, who were strolling
+westward, arm in arm. He apologized. They roared endearing curses
+at him and insisted that he join them in a drink.</p>
+<p>They were J.C. Flood and W.S. O'Brien, former saloon proprietors
+now reputed multi-millionaires.</p>
+<p>Early in the seventies they had joined forces with Jim Mackey, a
+blaster, at Virginia City and a mining man named J.G. Fair. Between
+them they bought up the supposedly depleted Consolidated Virginia
+Mine, paying from $4 to $9 each for its 10,700 shares. Mining
+experts smiled good naturedly, forgot the matter. Then the world
+was brought upstanding by the news of a bonanza hitherto
+unrivaled.</p>
+<p>Con. Virginia had gained a value of $150,000,000.</p>
+<p>After he had sipped the French champagne, on which Flood
+insisted and which Windham disliked, the latter spoke of Ralston
+and his trouble with the editors. "Some of the newspapers would
+have us think he's playing recklessly, with other people's money,"
+he said with irritation.</p>
+<p>'"Well, well, and maybe he is, me b'y," returned O'Brien. "Don't
+blame the newspaper fellahs.... They've raison to be suspicious,
+Hiven knows.... Ralston's a prince. We all love the man. It's not
+that. But--," he came closer, caught both of Benito's coat lapels
+in a confidential grasp, "I'm tellin' ye this, me lad: If it should
+come to a show-down ... if certain enemies should have a chance to
+call Bill Ralston's hand, I tell ye, it would mean dee-saster!"</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>At 9 o'clock on the morning of August 25, Francisco Stanley
+entered the private door of Windham's office. He was now an
+under-editor on The Chronicle, which had developed from the old
+Dramatic Chronicle, into a daily newspaper. Benito glanced up from
+his desk a bit impatiently; it was a busy day.</p>
+<p>"What's the matter, Francisco? You're excited."</p>
+<p>"I've a right to be," the journalist spoke sharply. He glanced
+at his uncle's secretary. "I must see you alone."</p>
+<p>"Can't you come in later? I've a lot of clients waiting."</p>
+<p>"For God's sake, Uncle Ben," the younger man said desperately,
+"send them off."</p>
+<p>Benito gazed at him, astonished. Then convinced by something in
+Francisco's eyes, he nodded to the secretary who departed.</p>
+<p>"It's Ralston ... word has reached the newspapers ... his bank
+has failed."</p>
+<p>Benito sprang to his feet. "You're crazy! It's--impossible!"</p>
+<p>"Uncle Ben, IT'S TRUE!" His fingers closed almost spasmodically
+upon the other's arm.</p>
+<p>"How do you know?"</p>
+<p>"RALSTON SAYS SO. I've just come from there.... He wants
+you."</p>
+<p>Benito reached dazedly for his hat.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Benito found "Bill" Ralston in his private office, head bowed;
+eyes dully hopeless. He looked ten years older.</p>
+<p>"The Bank of California has failed," he said before the younger
+man could ask a question. "It will never reopen its doors."</p>
+<p>"I--I simply can't believe it!" After a stunned silence Benito
+spoke. He laid a hand on the banker's shoulder. "All I have is at
+your service, Ralston."</p>
+<p>"Thank you ... but it isn't any use." He looked up misty-eyed.
+"I tried to make this town the greatest in the world.... I went too
+far.... I played too big a stake. Now--" he tried to smile. "Now
+comes the reckoning."</p>
+<p>"But, God Almighty! Ralston," cried Benito, "your assets must be
+enormous.... It's only a matter of time. You'll pull through."</p>
+<p>"They won't give me time," he spoke no names, yet Windham knew
+he meant those who had turned from friends to enemies.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Two days later Francisco met Ralston coming out of the bank. His
+face was haggard. His eyes had the look of one who has been struck
+an unexpected blow.</p>
+<p>"Will the directors' meeting take place today, Mr. Ralston?"</p>
+<p>"It's in session now," he answered dully.</p>
+<p>"Ah, I thought, perhaps--since you are leaving--it had been
+postponed."</p>
+<p>Spots of red flamed in the banker's cheeks. "They've barred me
+from the meeting," he replied and hurried on.</p>
+<p>Several hours later newsboys ran through San Francisco's
+streets: "EXTRA! EXTRA!" they screamed, "ALL ABOUT RALSTON'S
+SUICIDE."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXV"></a>CHAPTER LXV</h2>
+<h3>INDUSTRIAL UNREST</h3>
+<br>
+<p>About the Bank of California was a surging press of men and
+women. The doors of that great financial institution were closed,
+blinds drawn, as on the previous day. Now and then an officer or
+director passed the guarded portals. D.O. Mills was one of these,
+his stern, ascetic face more severe than usual.</p>
+<p>Francisco Stanley pushed his way up to the carriage as it
+started.</p>
+<p>"Will the bank reopen, Mr. Mills?" he asked, walking along
+beside the moving vehicle.</p>
+<p>The financier's eyes glared from the inner shadows. "Yes, yes.
+Certainly," he snapped. "Very shortly ... as soon as we can levy an
+assessment" The coachman whipped up his horses; the carriage rolled
+off. Francisco turned to face his uncle. "What did he say?" asked
+Benito. Others crowded close to hear the young editor's answer. The
+word found it way through the crowd. "The bank will reopen....
+They'll levy an assessment.... We won't lose a cent."</p>
+<p>Gradually the throng disbanded. Everywhere one heard expressions
+of sorrow for Ralston; doubt of the story that he had destroyed his
+life. As a matter of fact a coroner's jury found that death
+resulted from cerebral attack. An insurance company waived its
+suicide exemption clause and paid his widow $50,000.</p>
+<p>The Bank of California was reopened. Ralston, buried with the
+pomp and splendor of a sorrowing multitude, was presently
+forgotten. Few new troubles came upon the land. Overspeculation in
+the Comstock lode brought economic unrest.</p>
+<p>Thousands were unemployed in San Francisco. Agitators rallied
+them at public meetings into furious and morbid groups. From the
+Eastern States came telegraphic news of strikes and violence.
+Adrian returned one evening, tired and harassed.</p>
+<p>"I don't know what's got into the working people," he said to
+Inez.</p>
+<p>"Oh, they'll get over that," pronounced Francisco, with the
+sweeping confidence of youth. "These intervals of discontent are
+periodical--like epidemics of diseases."</p>
+<p>Adrian glanced at the treatise on Political Economy in his son's
+hand. "And what would you suggest, my boy?" he asked with a faint
+smile.</p>
+<p>"Leave them alone," said Francisco. "It goes through a regular
+form. They have agitators who talk of Bloodsucking Plutocrats,
+Rights of the People and all that. But it generally ends in mere
+words."</p>
+<p>"The Paris Commune didn't end in mere words," reminded
+Adrian.</p>
+<p>"Oh, that!" Francisco was a trifle nonplussed. "Well, of
+course--"</p>
+<p>"There have been serious riots in Eastern States."</p>
+<p>"But--they had leaders. Here we've none."</p>
+<p>"I'm not so sure of that," said Adrian thoughtfully. "D'ye know
+that Irish drayman, Dennis Kearney?"</p>
+<p>"Y-e-s ... the one who used to be a sailor?"</p>
+<p>"That's the man. He's clever; knows men like a book.... Has
+power and a knack for words. He calls our Legislature 'The
+Honorable Bilks.' Wants to start a Workingmen's Party. And he'll do
+it, too, or I'm mistaken. His motto is 'The Chinese Must Go!'"</p>
+<p>"By Harry! There's a story for the paper," said Francisco. "I
+must see the fellow."</p>
+<p>Robert Windham and Po Lun were out for a morning promenade. They
+often walked together of a Sunday. Robert, though he was now
+twenty-six, still retained his childhood friendship for the Chinese
+servitor; found him an agreeable, often-times a sage companion.
+Urged by Alice, whose ambitious love included all within her ken,
+Po Lun attended night school; he could read and write English
+passably, though the letter "r" still foiled his Oriental tongue.
+Today they were out to have a look at the new city hall.</p>
+<p>On a sand lot opposite several hundred men had gathered,
+pressing round a figure mounted on a barrel. The orator
+gesticulated violently. Now and then there were cheers. A
+brandishing of fists and canes. Po Lun halted in sudden alarm.
+"Plitty soon they get excited. They don't like Chinese. I think
+maybe best we go back."</p>
+<p>But already Po's "pig-tail" had attracted attention. The speaker
+pointed to him.</p>
+<p>"There's one of them Heathen Chinese," he cried shrilly. "The
+dirty yaller boys what's takin' bread out of our mouths. Down with
+them, I say. Make this a white man's country."</p>
+<p>An ominous growl came from the crowd. Several rough-looking
+fellows started toward Robert and Po Lun. The latter was for taking
+to his heels, but Robert stood his ground.</p>
+<p>"What do you fellows want?"</p>
+<p>They paused, abashed by his intrepid manner. "No offense, young
+man. We ain't after you. It's that Yaller Heathen.... The kind that
+robs us of a chance to live."</p>
+<p>"Po Lun has never robbed anyone of a chance to live. He's our
+cook ... and my friend. You leave him alone."</p>
+<p>"He sends all his money back to China," sneered another coming
+closer, brandishing a stick. "A fine American, ain't he?"</p>
+<p>"A better one than you," said Robert hotly. Anger got the better
+of his judgment and he snatched the stick out of the fellow's hand,
+broke it, threw it to the ground.</p>
+<p>Savagely they fell upon him. He went down, stunned by a blow on
+the head, a sense of crushing weight that overwhelmed his strength.
+He was vaguely conscious of a tirade of strange words, of an arm at
+the end of which was a meat cleaver, lashing about. The vindictive
+bark of a pistol. Shouts, feet running. A blue-coated form. A
+vehicle with champing horses that stood by.</p>
+<p>"Are you hurt very bad, young feller?"</p>
+<p>Robert moved his arms and legs. They appeared intact. He rose,
+stiffly. "Where's Po Lun?"</p>
+<p>"In the wagon."</p>
+<p>Robert, turning, observed an ambulance. "Not--dead?"</p>
+<p>"Well, pretty near it," said the policeman. "He saved your life
+though, the yellow devil. Laid out half a dozen of them hoodlums
+with a hatchet. He's shot through the lungs. But Doc. says he's got
+a chance."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Late that afternoon William T. Coleman sat closeted with Chief
+Ellis of the San Francisco police. Coleman bore but scant
+resemblance to the youth of 1856. He was heavier, almost bald,
+moustached, more settled, less alert in manner. Yet his eyes had in
+them still the old invincible gleam of leadership.</p>
+<p>"But," he was saying to the man in uniform, "that was twenty
+years ago. Can't you find a younger chap to head your Citizens'
+Committee?"</p>
+<p>"No," said Ellis shortly. "You're the one we need. You know the
+way to deal with outlaws ... how to make the citizens respond. Do
+you know that the gang wrecked several Chinese laundries after the
+attack on Windham? That they threaten to burn the Pacific Mail
+docks?"</p>
+<p>Chief Ellis drew a little nearer. "General McComb of the State
+forces has called a mass meeting. He wishes you to take
+charge...."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXVI"></a>CHAPTER LXVI</h2>
+<h3>THE PICK-HANDLE BRIGADE</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Benito found his son awaiting when he returned from the
+Citizens' Mass Meeting at midnight. Robert, insisting that he was
+"fit as a fiddle," had nevertheless been put to bed through the
+connivance of an anxious mother and the family physician, who found
+him to have suffered some severe contusions and lacerations in the
+morning's fray. But he was wide awake and curious when his father's
+latch key grated in the door.</p>
+<p>"It must have seemed like old times, didn't it, dad?" he asked
+with enthusiasm. The Vigilance Committee of the Fifties in his
+young mind was a knightly company. As a boy he used to listen,
+eager and excited, to his father's tales of Coleman. Now his hero
+was again to take the stage.</p>
+<p>"Yes, it took me back," said Windham. "I was about your age then
+and Coleman was just in his thirties." He sat down a trifle
+wearily. "The years aren't kind. Some of the fellows who were young
+in '56 seemed old tonight.... But they have the same spirit."</p>
+<p>"Tell me what happened," said Robert, after a pause.</p>
+<p>Benito's eyes flashed. "You should have heard them cheer when
+Coleman rose. He called for his old comrades and we stood up. Then
+there was more cheering. Coleman is all business. He commenced at
+once enrolling men for his pick-handle brigade; he's refused
+fire-arms. He has fifteen hundred already, divided into companies
+of a hundred each--with their own officers."</p>
+<p>"And are you an officer, dad?" asked Robert.</p>
+<p>"Yes," Benito smiled. "But my company is one man short. We've
+only ninety-nine."</p>
+<p>"How's that?" Robert's tone was puzzled.</p>
+<p>Windham rose. "I'm saving it," he answered, "for a wounded hero,
+who, I rather hope, will volunteer."</p>
+<p>"FATHER!" cried the young man rapturously.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>At the Mount Zion Hospital Po Lun fought with death on Tuesday.
+The bullet was removed; but though this brought relief, there came
+an aftermath of fever and destroying weakness. Alice and her son
+were at his bedside, but Po Lun did not recognize them.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Windham turned a tear-stained face to the physician. "Can
+nothing be done?" she pleaded. "He saved my boy.... Oh, doctor! You
+won't let him die."</p>
+<p>The young physician's sympathy showed plainly in his eyes. "I've
+done everything," he said. "He's sinking. If I knew a way to rouse
+him there might be a chance."</p>
+<p>As he spoke Francisco Stanley entered, viewed the silent figure
+on the cot and shook his head. "Poor Po Lun. At any rate he's been
+a hero in the papers. I've seen to that ..."</p>
+<p>"He was delirious all morning ... stretching out his arms and
+calling 'Hang Far! Hang Far!' Do you know what it means?"</p>
+<p>"I do," Alice answered; "it's the girl from whom he was
+separated nearly twenty years ago."</p>
+<p>"Why--that's funny," said Francisco. "Yesterday a woman by that
+name was captured by the mission-workers in a raid on Chinatown. I
+wonder.... Could it be the same one?"</p>
+<p>"Not likely," the physician answered. "It's a common name, I
+think. Still--" he looked at Po Lun.</p>
+<p>"Run and get her," Alice urged. "It's a chance. Go quickly."</p>
+<p>Half an hour passed; an hour, while the watchers waited at the
+bedside of Po Lun. Gradually his respiration waned. Several times
+the nurse called the physician, thinking death had come. But a
+spark still lingered, growing fainter with the minutes till a mist
+upon a mirror was the only sign that breath remained.</p>
+<p>Suddenly there was a rush of feet, a door flung open and
+Francisco entered, half dragging a Chinese woman by the arm. She
+gazed with frantic eyes from Alice to Robert till her glance took
+in the figure on the bed. She stared at it curiously,
+incredulously. Then she gave a little cry and flung herself toward
+Po Lun.</p>
+<p>What she said no one there present knew. What strange cabal she
+invoked is still a mystery. Be that as it may, eyes which had
+seemed closed forever, opened. Lips white, bloodless, breathed a
+scarce-heard whisper.</p>
+<p>"<i>Hang Far</i>!"</p>
+<p>"Come," said Alice. "Let us leave them together."</p>
+<p>Half an later, in an ante-room, the doctor told them: "He will
+live, I think. It's very like a miracle...."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>At the foot of Brannan street lay the Pacific Mail docks, where
+the Chinese laborers were landed. Many thousands of them had been
+brought there by the steamers from Canton. They had solved vexed
+problems as house servants, fruit pickers, tillers of the soil;
+they had done the rough work in the building of many bridges, the
+stemming of turbulent streams, the construction of highways. And
+while there was work for all, they had caused little trouble.</p>
+<p>Now half a thousand jobless workers, armed and reckless, marched
+toward the docks. They bore torches, which illuminated fitfully
+their flushed, impassioned faces. Here and there one carried a
+transparency described, "The Chinese Must Go."</p>
+<br>
+<a name="page308.jpg"></a>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/page308.jpg" width="85%" alt=
+""><br>
+<b>Half a thousand jobless workers, armed and reckless, marched
+toward the docks. They bore torches.... "A hell-bent crew," said
+Ellis.</b></p>
+<br>
+<p>Chief Ellis and a squad of mounted policemen watched them as
+they marched down Second street, shouting threats and waving their
+firebrands. "They're a hell-bent crew," he said to William Coleman.
+"Is your posse ready?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," he answered, "they've assembled near the dock. I've
+twenty companies."</p>
+<p>"Good.... You'll need 'em all."</p>
+<p>As he spoke a tongue of flame leaped upward from the darkness.
+Another and another.</p>
+<p>"They've fired the lumber yards," the chief said. "I expected
+that. There is fire apparatus on the spot.... It's time to
+move."</p>
+<p>He spurred forward, rounding up his officers. Coleman rode
+silently toward the entrance of the docks. Very soon a bugle
+sounded. There were staccato orders; then a tramp of feet.</p>
+<p>The Citizens' army moved in perfect unison toward the fires.
+Already engines were at work. One blaze was extinguished. Then came
+sounds of battle. Cries, shots. Coleman and his men rushed
+forward.</p>
+<p>Stones and sticks flew through the air. Now and then a pistol
+barked. The mounted police descended with a clatter, clubbing their
+way into the throng. But they did not penetrate far, so dense was
+the pack; it hemmed them about, pulling officers from their horses.
+The fire engines had been stopped. One of them was pushed into the
+bay.</p>
+<p>More fires leaped from incendiary torches. The rioters seemed
+triumphant. Then Coleman's brigade fell upon them.</p>
+<p>Whack, whack, whack, fell the pick-handles upon the backs,
+shoulders, sometimes heads of rioters. It was like a systematic
+tattoo. Coleman's voice was heard directing, here and there, cool
+and dispassionate. A couple of locomotive headlights threw their
+glare upon the now disordered gangsters. Whack! Whack! Whack!</p>
+<p>Suddenly the rioters, bleating, panic-stricken, fled like
+frightened sheep. They scattered in every direction leader*-less,
+completely routed. The fire engines resumed work. An ambulance came
+up and the work of attending the wounded began. The fight was
+over.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXVII"></a>CHAPTER LXVII</h2>
+<h3>DENNIS KEARNEY</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Weeks went by and brought no further outbreak. Chinatown which,
+for a time, was shuttered, fortified, almost deserted, once again
+resumed its feverish activities. In the theaters, funny men made
+jokes about the labor trouble. In the East strikes had abated. All
+seemed safe and orderly again.</p>
+<p>But San Francisco had yet to deal with Dennis Kearney.</p>
+<p>Dennis, born in County Cork just thirty years before, filled
+adventurous roles since his eleventh year, mostly on the so-called
+"hell-ships" which beat up and down the mains of trade. In 1868 he
+first set foot in San Francisco as an officer of the clipper
+"Shooting Star." Tiring of the sea he put his earnings in a draying
+enterprise. This, for half a dozen years, had prospered.</p>
+<p>Suddenly he cast his business interests to the winds. Became a
+labor agitator.</p>
+<p>Francisco Stanley, who had sought him, questing for an interview
+since morning, cornered him at last in Bob Woodward's What Cheer
+House at Sacramento and Leidesdorff streets. It was one of those
+odd institutions found only in this vividly bizarre metropolis of
+the West. For "two bits" you could get a bed and breakfast at the
+What Cheer House, both clean and wholesome enough for the proudest.
+If you had not the coin, it made little difference. One room was
+fitted out as a museum and contained the many curious articles
+which had found their way into Woodward's hands. Another room was
+the hotel library; the first free reading room in San
+Francisco.</p>
+<p>At the What Cheer House all kinds of people gathered. Stanley,
+as he peeped into the library, noted a judge of the Superior Court
+poring over a volume of Dickens. He waved a salute to
+tousle-haired, eagle-beaked Sam Clemens, whose Mark Twain articles
+were beginning to attract attention from the Eastern publishers.
+Near him, quietly sedate, absorbed in Macaulay, was Bret Harte. He
+had been a Wells-Fargo messenger, miner, clerk and steam-boat hand,
+so rumor said, and now he was writing stories of the West. Stanley
+would have liked to stop and chat ... but Kearney must be found and
+interviewed before The Chronicle went to press.</p>
+<p>Presently a loud, insistent voice attracted his attention. It
+was penetrating, violent, denunciatory. Francisco knew that voice.
+He went into an outer room where perhaps a dozen rough-clad men
+were gathered about a figure of medium height, compactly built,
+with a broad head, shifting blue eyes and a dynamic, nervous
+manner.</p>
+<p>"Don't forget," he pounded fist on palm for emphasis, "on August
+18 we organize the party. Johnny Day will be the prisident. We'll
+make thim bloody plutocrats take notice." He paused, catching sight
+of Stanley. Instantly his frowning face became all smiles. "Ah,
+here's me young friend, the reporter," he said. "Come along Misther
+Stanley, and I'll give yez a yarn for the paper. Lave me tell ye of
+the Workingmen's Trade and Labor Union."</p>
+<p>He kept Francisco's pencil busy.</p>
+<p>"There ain't no strings on us. We're free from all political
+connections. We're for oursilves. Get that."</p>
+<p>"Our password's 'The Chinese Must Go.'"</p>
+<p>"How do you propose to accomplish this?" asked Stanley.</p>
+<p>"Aisy enough," returned the other with supreme confidence.
+"We'll have the treaty wid Chiny changed. We'll sind back all the
+yellow divils if they interfere wid us Americans."</p>
+<p>Stanley could not repress a smile. Kearney himself had been
+naturalized only a year before.</p>
+<p>For an hour he unfolded principles, threatened men of wealth,
+pounded Stanley's knee until it was sore and finally stalked off,
+highly pleased with himself.</p>
+<p>"He's amusing enough," said Francisco to his father that
+evening. "But we mustn't underrate him as you said. The fellow has
+force. He knows the way to stir up human passion and he'll use his
+knowledge to the full. Also he knows equity and law. Some of his
+ideas are altruistic."</p>
+<p>"What is he going to do to the Central Pacific nabobs if they
+don't discharge their Chinese laborers?" asked Adrian.</p>
+<p>Young Stanley laughed. "He threatens to dynamite their castles
+on the hill."</p>
+<p>His father did not answer immediately. "It may not be as funny
+as you think," he commented.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>With the weeks Po Lun mended rapidly. Hang Far was at his
+bedside many hours each day. Alice often found them chatting
+animatedly.</p>
+<p>"When I get plenty well, we mally," Po informed her. "Maybeso go
+back to China. What you say, Missee Alice?"</p>
+<p>"I think you'd better stay with me," she countered. "As for Hang
+Far, we'll find room for her." She smiled dolefully. "I'm getting
+to be an old lady, Po Lun ... I need more help in the house."</p>
+<p>"You nebbeh get old, Missee Alice," said the sick man. "Twenty
+yea' I know you--always like li'l gi'l."</p>
+<p>"Nonsense, Po!" cried Alice. Nevertheless she was pleased. "Will
+you and Hang Far stay with me?"</p>
+<p>"I t'ink so, Missee," Po replied. "By 'n' by we take one li'l
+tlip fo' honeymoon. But plitty soon come back."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>The labor movement grew and Dennis with it--both in
+self-importance and in popularity. He went about the State making
+speeches, threatening the "shoddy aristocrats who want an emperor
+and a standing army to shoot down the people."</p>
+<p>Every Sunday he harangued a crowd of his adherents on a sand-lot
+near the city hall and owing to this fact his followers were dubbed
+"The Sand-Lot Party." One day Robert, after hearing them discourse,
+returned home shaken and angry.</p>
+<p>"The man's a maniac," he told his father; "he talked of nothing
+but lynching railroad magnates and destroying their property. He
+wants to blow up the Pacific Mail docks and burn the steamers ...
+to drop dynamite from balloons on Chinatown."</p>
+<p>Young Stanley joined them, smiling, and dropped into a chair.
+"Whew!" he exclaimed, "it's been a busy day down at the office.
+Have you heard that Dennis Kearney's been arrested?"</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXVIII"></a>CHAPTER LXVIII</h2>
+<h3>THE WOMAN REPORTER</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Francisco stayed for tea and chatted of events. Yes, Dennis
+Kearney was in jail and making a great hullabaloo about it. He and
+five of his lieutenants had been arrested after an enthusiastic
+meeting on the Barbary Coast.</p>
+<p>"And what's the Workingmen's Trade and Labor Union doing?"
+Robert asked.</p>
+<p>"Oh, muttering and threatening as usual," Francisco laughed.
+"They'll not do anything--with the memory of Coleman's 1500
+pick-handles fresh in their minds...."</p>
+<p>"Well, I'm glad those murderous ruffians are behind the bars,"
+said Alice. But Francisco took her up. "That's rather hard on them,
+Aunt Alice," he retorted. "They're only a social reaction of the
+times ... when railroad millionaires have our Legislature by the
+throat and land barons refuse to divide their great holdings and
+give the small farmer a chance.... Kearney, aside from his rant of
+violence, which he doesn't mean, is advocating much-needed
+reforms.... I was talking with Henry George today...."</p>
+<p>"He's the new city gas and water inspector, isn't he?" asked
+Benito. "They tell me he's writing a book."</p>
+<p>"Yes, 'Progress and Poverty.' George believes the single tax
+will cure all social wrongs. But Jean...." He hesitated,
+flushing.</p>
+<p>"Jean?" His aunt was quick to sense a mystery. "Who is
+Jean?"</p>
+<p>"Oh, she's the new woman reporter," said Francisco hastily. He
+rose, "Well, I'll be going now."</p>
+<p>His aunt looked after him in silent speculation. "So!" she spoke
+half to herself. "Jean's the woman reporter." And for some occult
+reason she smiled.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Robert saw them together some days later, talking very earnestly
+as they walked through "Pauper Alley." Such was the title bestowed
+upon Leidesdorff street between California and Pine streets, where
+the "mudhens"--those bedraggled, wretched women speculators who
+still waited hungrily for scanty crumbs from Fortune's
+table--chatted with broken-down and shabby men in endless
+reminiscent gabble of great fortunes they had "almost won."</p>
+<p>"Miss Norwall's going to do some 'human interest sketches,' as
+they call 'em," Francisco explained as he introduced his cousin.
+"Our editor believes in a 'literary touch' for the paper. Something
+rather new."</p>
+<p>Jean Norwall held out her hand. She was an attractive,
+bright-eyed girl in her early twenties, with a searching, friendly
+look, as though life were full of surprises which she was eager to
+probe. "So you are Robert," she remarked. "Francisco's talked a lot
+about you."</p>
+<p>"That was good of him," the young man answered. "He's talked a
+deal of you as well, Miss Norwall."</p>
+<p>"Oh, indeed!"' She reddened slightly. "Well, we must be getting
+on."</p>
+<p>Robert raised his hat and watched them disappear around the
+corner. There was a vaguely lonesome feeling somewhere in the
+region of his heart. He went on past the entrance of the San
+Francisco Stock Exchange and almost collided with a bent-over,
+shrewd-faced man, whose eagle-beak and penetrating eyes were a
+familiar sight along California street.</p>
+<p>He was E.J. (better known as "Lucky") Baldwin, who had started
+the Pacific Stock Exchange.</p>
+<p>Baldwin had a great ranch in the South, where he bred blooded
+horses. He owned the Baldwin theater and the Baldwin Hotel, which
+rivaled the Palace. Women, racing and stocks were his hobbies.
+Benito had done some legal work for Baldwin and Robert knew him
+casually. Rather to his surprise Baldwin stopped, laid a hand on
+the young man's shoulder.</p>
+<p>"Hello, lad," he greeted; "want a tip on the stock market?"</p>
+<p>Tips from "Lucky" were worth their weight in gold. Robert was
+astonished. "Why--yes, thank you, sir," he stammered.</p>
+<p>"Well, don't play it ... that's the best tip in the world." The
+operator walked off chuckling.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Robert continued his walk along Montgomery street to Market,
+where he turned westward. It was Saturday and his father's office,
+where he was now studying law, had been closed since noon. It had
+become a custom--almost an unwritten law--to promenade San
+Francisco's lordly thoroughfare on the last afternoon of the week,
+especially the northern side. For Market street was now a social
+barrier. South of it were smaller, meaner shops, saloons,
+beer-swilling "cafe chantants," workmen's eating houses and the
+like, with, of course, the notable exceptions of the Grand and
+Palace Hotels.</p>
+<p>On the northern side were the gay haberdasheries, millinery
+stores, cafes and various business marts, where fashionable San
+Francisco shopped. Where men with top hats, walking sticks and
+lavender silk waistcoats ogled the feminine fashion parade.</p>
+<p>As he passed the Baldwin Hotel with its broadside of
+bow-windows, Robert became aware of some disturbance. A large dray
+drawn by four horses, plumed and flower garlanded, was wending a
+triumphal course up Market street. A man stood in the center of it
+waving his hat--a stocky fellow in soiled trousers and an old gray
+sweater. Shouts of welcome hailed him as the dray rolled on; most
+of them came from the opposite or southern side.</p>
+<p>"It's Dennis Kearney," said a man near Robert. "He and his gang
+were released from custody today.... Now we'll have more
+trouble."</p>
+<p>Robert followed the dray expectantly. But Kearney made no overt
+demonstration. He seemed much subdued by his fortnight in jail.</p>
+<p>The swift California dusk was falling. The afternoon was gone.
+And Robert, realizing that it was past the dinner hour at his home,
+decided to find his evening meal at a restaurant. One of these,
+with a display of shell-fish grouped about a miniature fountain in
+its window, confronted him ere long and he entered a rococo
+interior of mirrored walls. What caught his fancy more than the
+ornate furnishings, however, was a very pretty girl sitting within
+a cashier's cage of iron grill-work.</p>
+<p>It happened that she was smiling as he glanced her way. She had
+golden hair with a hint of red in it, a dainty oval face, like his
+mother's; eyes that were friendly and eager with youth. Robert
+smiled back at her involuntarily.</p>
+<p>The smile still lingered as a man came forward to adjust his
+score. A keen, dynamic-looking man of middle years and an imposing
+presence. Robert watched him just a little envious of his assured
+manner as he threw down a gold-piece. While the fair cashier was
+making change he grinned at her. "How's my little girl tonight?"
+Reaching through the aperture, he chucked her suddenly beneath the
+chin. Tears of mortification sprang into her eyes. Impulsively
+Robert stepped forward, crowding the other aside none too
+gently.</p>
+<p>"I beg your pardon," he was breathless, half astounded by his
+own temerity. "But--can I be of any--ah--service?"</p>
+<p>"Puppy!" stormed the elder man and stalked out haughtily. The
+girl's eyes encountered Robert's, shining, grateful for an instant.
+Then they fell. Her face grew grave. "You shouldn't have ...
+really.... That was Isaac J. Kalloch."</p>
+<p>"Oh, the preacher that's running for Mayor," Robert's tone was
+abashed. "But I don't care," he added, "I'm glad I did."</p>
+<p>Once again the girl's eyes met his, shyly. "So am I," she
+whispered.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXIX"></a>CHAPTER LXIX</h2>
+<h3>A NEW GENERATION</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Isaac S. Kalloch was the labor candidate for mayor. People said
+he was the greatest pulpit orator in San Francisco since Starr
+King. His Sunday sermons at the Metropolitan Temple were crowded;
+as a campaign orator he drew great throngs.</p>
+<p>Robert's dislike for the man was mitigated by a queer
+involuntary gratitude. Without that bit of paternal familiarity,
+which had goaded the young lawyer to impulsive protective
+championship, he and Maizie Carter, the little golden-haired
+cashier, might have found the road to comradeship much longer.</p>
+<p>For comrades they had become almost at once. At least so they
+fondly fancied. Robert's mother wondered why he missed so many
+meals from home. The rococo restaurant gained a steady customer.
+And the host of cavaliers who lingered in the hope of seeing Maizie
+home each evening diminished to one. He was often invited into the
+vine-clad cottage at the top of Powell street hill. Sometimes he
+sat with Maizie on a haircloth sofa and looked at Mrs. Carter's
+autograph album. It contained some great names that were now no
+longer written. James Lick, David Broderick, Colonel E.D. Baker and
+the still lamented Ralston, of whom Maizie's mother never tired of
+talking. He, it seems, was wont to give her tips on mining stocks.
+Acting on them, she had once amassed $10,000.</p>
+<p>"But I lost it all after the poor, dear man passed away," she
+would say, with a tear in her eye. "Once that fellow Mills--I hate
+his fishy eyes!--looked straight at me and said, 'See the poor old
+mud-hen'!"</p>
+<p>She began to weep softly. Maizie sprang to comfort her, stroking
+the stringy gray hair with tender, youthful fingers. "Mother quit
+the market after that. She hasn't been near Pauper Alley for a year
+... not since I've been working at the Mineral Cafe. And we've
+three hundred dollars in the bank."</p>
+<p>"Ah, yes," said the mother, fondly. "Maizie's a brave girl and a
+thrifty one. We're comfortable--and independent, even though the
+rich grind down the poor." Her eyes lighted. "Wait till Kalloch is
+elected ... then we'll see better times, I'll warrant."</p>
+<p>Robert was too courteous to express his doubts.</p>
+<p>Later he discussed the situation with Francisco. His paper had
+printed an "expose" of Kalloch, who struck back with bitter
+personal denunciation of his editorial foes. "It's a nasty mess,"
+Francisco said disgustedly.</p>
+<p>"Broderick used to tell my father that politics had always been
+a rascal's paradise because decent men wouldn't run for office--nor
+vote half of the time.... I'm going to write an article about it
+for The Overland. And Pixley of the Argonaut has given me a chance
+to do some stories. I shall be an author pretty soon--like Harte
+and Clemens."</p>
+<p>"Or a poet like this Cincinnatus Heinie Miller, whom one hears
+about. Fancy such a name. I should think he'd change it."</p>
+<p>"He has already," laughed Francisco. "Calls himself
+Joaquin--after Marietta, the bandit. Joaquin Miller--rather catchy,
+isn't it? And he's written some really fine lines. Showed me one
+the other day that's called 'Columbus.' It's majestic. I tell you
+that fellow will be famous one day."</p>
+<p>"Pooh!" scoffed Robert; "he's a poseur--ought to be an actor,
+with his long hair and boots and sash.... How is the fair
+Jeanne?"</p>
+<p>Francisco's face clouded. "I want her to leave newspaper work
+and try literature," he said, "but Jeanne's afraid to cut loose.
+She's earning her living ... and she's alone in the world. No one
+to fall back on, you know."</p>
+<p>"But she'd make more money at real writing, wouldn't she?" asked
+Robert. "Ever since Harte wrote that thing about 'The Luck of
+Roaring Camp,' which the lady proofreader said was indecent, he's
+had offers from the Eastern magazines. John Carmony's paying him
+$5,000 a year to edit the Overland and $100 for each poem or story
+he writes."</p>
+<p>"Ah, yes, but Bret Harte is a genius."</p>
+<p>"Maybe Jeanne's another," Robert ventured.</p>
+<p>Francisco laughed ruefully. "I've told her that ... but she says
+no.... 'I'm just a woman,' she insists, 'and not a very bright one
+at that.' She has all kinds of faith in me, but little in herself."
+He made an impatient gesture. "What can a fellow do?"</p>
+<p>Robert looked at him a moment thoughtfully. "Why not--marry
+Jeanne?"</p>
+<p>Dull red crept into Francisco's cheeks. Then he laughed.
+"Well--er--probably she wouldn't have me."</p>
+<p>"There's only one way to find out," his cousin persisted. "She's
+alone ... and you're soon going to be. When do your folks start on
+their 'second honeymoon,' as they call it?"</p>
+<p>"Oh, that trip around the world--why, in a month or two. As soon
+as father closes out his business."</p>
+<p>"You could have the house then--you and Jeanne."</p>
+<p>"Say!" exclaimed Francisco suddenly, "you're such a Jim Dandy to
+manage love affairs! Why don't you get married yourself?"</p>
+<p>It was Robert's turn to flush. "I'm quite willing," he said
+shortly.</p>
+<p>"Won't she have you?" asked his cousin sympathetically.</p>
+<p>"'Tisn't that ... it's her mother. Maizie won't leave her ...
+and she won't bring her into our home. Mrs. Carter's peculiar ...
+and Maizie says we're young. Young enough to be unselfish."</p>
+<p>"She's a fine girl," returned Francisco. "Well, good bye." He
+held out a cordial hand.</p>
+<p>"I--I'll think over what you said."</p>
+<p>"Good luck, then," Robert answered as they gripped.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Adrian Stanley was closing up his affairs. As a contractor he
+had prospered; his reclaimed city lots had realized their purchase
+price a hundred fold and his judiciously conservative investments
+yielded golden fruit. Adrian was not a plunger. But in thirty years
+he had accumulated something of a fortune.... And now they were to
+travel, he and Inez, for a year or so.</p>
+<p>He had provided, too, for Francisco. The latter, though he did
+not know it, would have $20,000 to his credit in the Bank of
+California. Adrian planned to hand his son the bank deposit book
+across the gang plank as the ship cast off. They were going first
+to the Sandwich Islands. Then on to China, India, the South Seas.
+Each evening, sometimes until midnight, they perused the
+illustrated travel-folders, describing routes, hotels, trains,
+steamships.</p>
+<p>"You're like a couple of children," smiled Francisco on the
+evening before their departure. He was writing a novel, in addition
+to the other work for Carmony and Pixley. Sometimes it was hard
+work amid this unusual prattle by his usually sedate and silent
+parents. He tried to imagine the house without them; his life,
+without their familiar and cherished companionship.... It would be
+lonely. Probably he would rent the place, when his novel was
+finished ... take lodgings down town.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXX"></a>CHAPTER LXX</h2>
+<h3>ROBERT AND MAIZIE</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Francisco saw his parents to the steamer in a carriage packed
+with luggage--shiny new bags and grips which, he reflected, would
+one day return much buffeted and covered with foreign labels. He
+had seen such bags in local households. The owners were very proud
+of them. Shakenly he patted his mother's arm and told her how young
+she was looking, whereat, for some reason, she cried. Adrian
+coughed and turned to look out of the window. None of the trio
+spoke till they reached the dock.</p>
+<p>There Mrs. Stanley gave him many directions looking to his
+health and safety. And his father puffed ferociously at a cigar.
+They had expected Jeanne to bid them good-bye, but she no doubt was
+delayed, as one so often was in newspaper work.</p>
+<p>At last it was over. Francisco stood with the bank book in his
+hand, a lump in his throat, waving a handkerchief. The ship was
+departing rapidly. He could no longer distinguish his parents among
+the black specks at the stern of the vessel. Finally he turned,
+swallowing hard and put the bank book in his pocket. What a
+thoughtful chap his father was! How generous! And how almost
+girlish his mother had looked in her new, smart travel suit! Well,
+they would enjoy themselves for a year or two. Some day he would
+travel, too, and see the world. But first there was work to do.
+Work was good. And Life was filled with Opportunity. He thought of
+Jeanne.</p>
+<p>Suddenly he determined to test Robert's advice. Now, if ever,
+was the time to challenge Providence. He had in his pocket Adrian's
+check for $20,000. The Stanley home was vacant. But more than all
+else, Jeanne was being courted by a new reporter on the
+Chronicle--a sort of poet with the dashing ways that women liked.
+He had taken Jeanne to dinner several times of late.</p>
+<p>With a decisive movement Francisco entered a telephone booth.
+Five minutes later he emerged smiling. Jeanne had broken an
+engagement with the poet chap to dine with him.</p>
+<p>Later that evening he tipped an astonished French waiter with a
+gold-piece. He and Jeanne walked under a full moon until
+midnight.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Two months after the Stanleys' departure Francisco and Jeanne
+were married and took up their abode in the Stanley home. Francisco
+worked diligently at his novel. Now and then they had Robert and
+Maizie to dinner. Both Jeanne and Francisco had a warm place in
+their hearts for little Maizie Carter. It was perfectly plain that
+she loved Robert; sometimes her eyes were plainly envious when they
+fell on Jeanne in her gingham apron, presiding over the details of
+her household with, a bride's new joy in domestic tasks. But Maizie
+was a knowing little woman, too wise to imperil her dream of Love's
+completeness with a disturbing element like her mother, growing
+daily more helpless, querulous, dependent.</p>
+<p>And she had a fine pride, this little working girl. From Robert
+she would accept no aid, despite his growing income as the junior
+partner in his father's law firm. Benito's health had not of recent
+months been robust, and Robert found upon his shoulders more and
+more of the business of the office, which acted as trustee for
+several large estates. Robert now had his private carriage, but
+Maizie would not permit his calling thus, in state, for her at the
+Mineral Cafe.</p>
+<p>"It would not look well," she said, half whimsically, yet with a
+touch of gravity, "to have a famous lawyer in his splendid coach
+call for a poor little Cinderella of a cashier." And so Robert came
+afoot each night to take her home. When it was fine they walked up
+the steep Powell street hill, gazing back at the scintillant lights
+of the town or down on the moonlit bay, with its black silhouetted
+islands, the spars of great ships and the moving lights of tugboats
+or ferries.</p>
+<p>If it were wet they rode up on the funny little cable cars,
+finding a place, whenever possible, on the forward end, which
+Maizie called the "observation platform." As they passed the Nob
+Hill mansions of Hopkins, Stanford and Crocker, and the more modest
+adobe of the Fairs, Maizie sometimes fancied herself the chatelaine
+of such a castle, giving an almost imperceptible sigh as the car
+dipped over the crest of Powell street toward the meaner levels
+just below where she and her mother lived. Their little yard was
+always bright with flowers, and from the rear window one had a
+marvelous view of the water. She seldom failed to walk into the
+back room and feast her eyes on that marine panorama before she
+returned to listen to her mother's fretful maunderings over
+vanished fortunes.</p>
+<p>Tonight as they sat with Jeanne and Francisco in front of the
+crackling fire, Maizie's hunger for a home of her own and the man
+she loved was so plain that Jeanne arose impulsively and put an arm
+about her guest. She said nothing, but Maizie understood. There was
+a lump in her throat. "I should not think such things," she told
+herself. "I am selfish ... unfilial."</p>
+<p>Robert was talking. She smiled at him bravely and listened.
+"Mother's planning to go East," she heard him say. "She's always
+wanted to, and as she grows older it's almost an obsession. So
+father's finally decided to go, too, and let me run the business
+... I'll be an orphan soon, like you, Francisco."</p>
+<p>"Oh," said Maizie. "Do you mean that you'll be all alone?"</p>
+<p>Robert smiled, "Quite.... Po Lun and Hang Far plan a trip to
+China ... want to see their parents before they die. The Chinese
+are great for honoring their forebears.... Sometimes I think," he
+added, whimsically, "that Maizie is partly Chinese."</p>
+<p>The girl flushed. Jeanne made haste to change the subject. "How
+is your friend, Dennis Kearney?" she asked Francisco.</p>
+<p>"Oh, he's left the agitator business ... he's a grain broker
+now. But Dennis started something. Capital is a little more willing
+to listen to labor. And Chinese immigration will be restricted,
+perhaps stopped altogether. The Geary Exclusion Act is before
+Congress now, and more or less certain to pass."</p>
+<p>"He's a strange fellow," said Jeanne, reminiscently. "I wonder
+if he still hates everyone who disagrees with him. Loring Pickering
+was one of his pet enemies."</p>
+<p>"Oh, Dennis is forgiving, like all Irishmen," said Robert.
+Impulsively he laid a hand on Maizie's.</p>
+<p>"Maizie is part Irish, too," he added, meaningly. The girl
+smiled at him star-eyed. For she understood.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXI"></a>CHAPTER LXXI</h2>
+<h3>THE BLIND BOSS</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Francisco met the erstwhile agitator on the street one day. He
+had made his peace with many former foes, including Pickering."</p>
+<p>"Politics is a rotten game, me b'y," he said, by way of
+explanation. "And I've a family, two little girruls at home. I want
+thim to remimber their father as something besides a blatherskite
+phin they grow up. So I'm in a rispictible business again....
+There's a new boss now, bad cess to him! Chris Buckley.</p>
+<p>"Him your Chinese friends call 'The Blind White Devil?' Yes,
+I've heard of Chris."</p>
+<p>"He keeps a saloon wid a gossoon name o' Fallon, on Bush
+street.... Go up and see him, Misther Stanley.... He's a
+fair-speakin' felly I'm told.... Ask him," Dennis whispered,
+nudging the writer's ribs with his elbow, "ask him how his gambling
+place in Platt's Hall is coming on?"</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Several days later Francisco entered the unpretentious
+establishment of Christopher Buckley. He found it more like an
+office than a drinking place; people sat about, apparently waiting
+their turn for an interview with Buckley.</p>
+<p>A small man, soft of tread and with a searching glance, asked
+Stanley's business and, learning that the young man was a writer
+for the press, blinked rapidly a few times; then he scuttled off,
+returning ere long with the information that Buckley would "see Mr.
+Stanley." Soon he found himself facing a pleasant-looking man of
+medium height, a moustache, wiry hair tinged with gray, a vailed
+expression of the eyes, which indicated some abnormality of vision,
+but did not reveal the almost total blindness with which early
+excesses had afflicted Christopher Buckley.</p>
+<p>"Sit down, my friend," spoke the boss. His tone held a crisp
+cordiality, searching and professionally genial. "What d'ye want
+... a story?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," said Stanley.</p>
+<p>"About the election?"</p>
+<p>Stanley hesitated. "Tell me about the gambling concession at
+Platt's Hall," he said suddenly.</p>
+<p>Buckley's manner changed. It became, if anything, more
+cordial.</p>
+<p>"My boy," his tone was low, "you're wasting time as a reporter.
+Listen," he laid a hand upon Francisco's knee. "I've got a job for
+you.... The new Mayor will need a secretary ... three hundred a
+month. And extras!"</p>
+<p>"What are they?" asked Francisco curiously.</p>
+<p>"Lord! I don't have to explain that to a bright young man like
+you.... People coming to the Mayor for favors. They're appreciative
+... understand?"</p>
+<p>"Well," Francisco seemed to hesitate, "let me think it over....
+Can I let you know," he smiled, "tomorrow?"</p>
+<p>Buckley nodded as Francisco rose. As soon as the latter's back
+was turned the little sharp-eyed man came trotting to his master's
+call. "Follow him. Find out what's his game," he snapped. The
+little man sped swiftly after. Buckley made another signal. The
+top-hatted representative of railway interests approached.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Francisco stopped at Robert's office on his way home. Windham
+had moved into one of the new buildings, with an elevator, on
+Kearney street. In his private office was a telephone, one of those
+new instruments for talking over a wire which still excited
+curiosity, though they were being rapidly installed by the Pacific
+Bell Company. Hotels, newspapers, the police and fire departments
+were equipped with them, but private subscribers were few,
+Francisco had noticed one of the instruments in Buckley's
+saloon.</p>
+<p>Robert had not returned from court, but was momentarily
+expected. His amanuensis ushered Francisco into the private office.
+He sat down and picked up a newspaper, glancing idly over the
+news.</p>
+<p>A bell tinkled somewhere close at hand. It must be the
+telephone. Rather gingerly, for he had never handled one before,
+Francisco picked up the receiver, put it to his ear. It was a man's
+voice insisting that a probate case be settled. Francisco tried to
+make him understand that Robert was out. But the voice went on.
+Apparently the transmitting apparatus was defective. Francisco
+could not interrupt the flow of words.</p>
+<p>"See Buckley.... He has all the judges under his thumb. Pay him
+what he asks. We must have a settlement at once."</p>
+<p>Francisco put back the receiver. So Buckley controlled the
+courts as well. He would be difficult to expose. The little plan
+for getting evidence with Robert's aid did not appear so simple
+now.</p>
+<p>Francisco waited half an hour longer, fidgeting about the
+office. Then he decided that Robert had gone for the day and went
+out. At the corner of Powell street he bumped rather
+unceremoniously into a tall figure, top-hatted, long-coated,
+carrying a stick.</p>
+<p>"I beg your pardon," he apologized. "Oh--why it's Mr.
+Pickering."</p>
+<p>"Where are you bound so--impetuously?"</p>
+<p>"Home," smiled Stanley. "Jeanne and I are going to the show
+tonight." He was about to pass on when a thought struck him. "Got a
+minute to spare, Mr. Pickering?"</p>
+<p>"Always to you, my boy," returned the editor of the Bulletin,
+with his old-fashioned courtesy.</p>
+<br>
+<a name="page330.jpg"></a>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/page330.jpg" width="85%" alt=
+""><br>
+<b>"My boy ... you're wasting your time as a reporter. Listen," he
+laid a hand upon Francisco's knee. "I've a job for you.... The new
+Mayor will need a secretary".</b></p>
+<br>
+<p>"Then, come into the Baldwin Cafe.... I want to tell you
+something."</p>
+<p>In an unoccupied corner, over a couple of glasses, Francisco
+unfolded his plan. He was somewhat abashed by Pickering's
+expression. "Very clever, Stanley ... but quite useless. It's been
+tried before. You'd better have taken the job, accumulated
+evidence; then turned it over to us. That would be the way to trap
+him ... but it's probably too late. Ten to one his sleuth has seen
+us together. Buckley's very--bright, you know."</p>
+<p>He put a hand kindly on the crestfallen young man's shoulder....
+"Go back tomorrow and see if he'll make you secretary to the Mayor.
+Then get all the 'extras' you can. Label each and bring it to me.
+I'll see that you're not misunderstood." He rose. "But I fear
+Buckley will withdraw his offer ... if so, we'll print the story of
+his Platt's Hall gambling house."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXII"></a>CHAPTER LXXII</h2>
+<h3>FATE TAKES A HAND</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Francisco found that Pickering's prophecy had been a true one.
+On a subsequent visit to the Bush street saloon he found the Blind
+Boss unapproachable. After waiting almost an hour and seeing
+several men who had come after him, led to the rear room for a
+conference, word was brought him by the little, keen-eyed man that
+the position of Mayor's secretary was already filled. He was
+exceedingly polite, expressing "Mr. Buckley's deep regret," about
+the matter. But there was in his eye a furtive mockery, in his
+tight-lipped mouth a covert sneer.</p>
+<p>Francisco went directly to the office of The Bulletin, relating
+his experience to the veteran editor. "I supposed as much," said
+Pickering. He tapped speculatively on the desk with his pencil.
+"What's more, I think there's little to be done at present.
+Printing the story of Platt's Hall will only be construed as a bit
+of political recrimination. San Francisco rather fancies gambling
+palaces."</p>
+<p>"Jack!" he called to a reporter. "See if you can locate Jerry
+Lynch." He turned to Stanley. "There's the fellow for you: Senator
+Jeremiah Lynch. Know him? Good. You get evidence on Buckley.
+Consult with Lynch concerning politics. He'll tell you ways to
+checkmate Chris you wouldn't dream of...."</p>
+<p>Pickering smiled and picked up a sheet of manuscript. Francisco
+took the hint. From that day he camped on Buckley's trail. Bit by
+bit he gathered proofs, some documentary, some testimonial. No
+single item was of great importance. But, as a whole, Robert had
+assured him, it was weaving a net in which the blind boss might one
+day find himself entrapped. Perhaps he felt its meshes now and
+then. For overtures were made to Stanley. He was offered the
+position of secretary to Mayor Pond, but he declined it. Word
+reached him of other opportunities; tips on the stock market, the
+races; he ignored them and went on.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>One night his house was broken into and his desk ransacked most
+thoroughly. Twice he was set upon at night, his pockets rifled.
+Threats came to him of personal violence. Finally the blind boss
+sent for him.</p>
+<p>"Is there anything you want--that I can give you?" Buckley
+minced no words.</p>
+<p>Stanley shook his head. Then, remembering Buckley's blindness,
+he said "No."</p>
+<p>Buckley took a few short paces up and down the room, then added:
+"I'll talk plain to you, my friend--because you're smart; too smart
+to be a catspaw for an editor and a politician who hate me. Let me
+tell you this, you'll do no good by keeping on." He spun about
+suddenly, threateningly, "You've a wife, haven't you?"</p>
+<p>"We'll not discuss that, Mr. Buckley," said Francisco
+stiffly.</p>
+<p>"Nevertheless it's true ... and children?"</p>
+<p>"N-not yet," said Francisco in spite of himself.</p>
+<p>"Oh, I see. Well, that's to be considered.... It's not what
+you'd call a time for taking chances, brother."</p>
+<p>"What d'ye mean?" Francisco was a trifle startled.</p>
+<p>"Nothing; nothing!" said the blind boss unctuously. "Think it
+over.... And remember, I'm your friend. If there's anything you
+wish, come to me for it. Otherwise--"</p>
+<p>Stanley looked at him inquiringly, but did not speak. Nor did
+Buckley close his sentence. It was left suspended like the
+Damoclesian blade. Francisco went straight home and found Jeanne
+busied with her needle and some tiny garments, which of late had
+occupied her days. He was rather silent while they dined, a bit
+uneasy.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Francisco usually went down town for lunch. There was a smart
+club called the Bohemian, where one met artists, actors, writers.
+Among them were young Keith, the landscape painter, who gave
+promise of a vogue; Charley Stoddard, big and bearded; they called
+him an etcher with words; and there were Prentice Mulford, the
+mystic; David Belasco of the Columbia Theater. Francisco got into
+his street clothes, kissed Jeanne and went out. It was a bright,
+scintillant day. He strode along whistling.</p>
+<p>At the club he greeted gaily those who sat about the room.
+Instead of answering, they ceased their talk and stared at him.
+Presently Stoddard advanced, looking very uncomfortable.</p>
+<p>"Let's go over there and have a drink," he indicated a secluded
+corner. "I want a chat with you."</p>
+<p>"Oh, all right," said Francisco. He followed Stoddard, still
+softly whistling the tune which had, somehow, caught his fancy.
+They sat down, Charley Stoddard looking preternaturally grave.</p>
+<p>"Well, my boy," Francisco spoke, "what's troubling you?"</p>
+<p>"Oh--ah--" said the other, "heard from your folks lately,
+Francisco?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, they're homeward bound. Ought to be off Newfoundland by
+now."</p>
+<p>The drinks came. Stanley raised his glass, drank, smiling.
+Stoddard followed, but he did not smile. "Can you bear a shock, old
+chap?" He blurted. "I--they--dammit man--the ship's been
+wrecked."</p>
+<p>Francisco set his glass down quickly. He was white. "The--The
+Raratonga?"</p>
+<p>Stoddard nodded. There was silence. Then, "Was
+any-body--drowned?"</p>
+<p>Stanley did not need an answer. It was written large in
+Stoddard's grief-wrung face. He got up, made his way unsteadily to
+the door. A page came running after with his hat and stick and he
+took them absently. Nearby was a newspaper office, crowds about it,
+bulletins announcing the Raratonga's total destruction with all on
+board.</p>
+<p>Francisco began to walk rapidly, without a definite sense of
+direction. He found relief in that. The trade-wind was sharp in his
+face and he pulled his soft hat down over his eyes. Presently he
+found himself in an unfamiliar locality--the water-front--amid a
+bustling rough-spoken current of humanity that eddied forward and
+back. There were many sailors. From the doors of innumerable
+saloons came the blare of orchestrions; now and then a drunken
+song.</p>
+<p>Entering one of the swinging doors, Francisco called for whisky.
+He felt suddenly a need for stimulant. The men at the long counter
+looked at him curiously. He was not of their kind. A little
+sharp-eyed man who was playing solitaire at a table farther back,
+looked up interested. He pulled excitedly at his chin, rose and
+signed to a white-coated servitor. They had their heads
+together.</p>
+<p>It was almost noon the following day when Chief Mate Chatters of
+the whaleship Greenland, en route for Behring Sea, went into the
+forecastle to appraise some members of a crew hastily and
+informally shipped. "Shanghaiing," it was called. But one had to
+have men. One paid the waterfront "crimps" a certain sum and asked
+no questions.</p>
+<p>"Who the devil's this?" He indicated a man sprawled in one of
+the bunks, who, despite a stubble of beard and ill-fitting sea
+clothes, was unmistakably a gentleman.</p>
+<p>"Don't know--rum sort for a sailor. Got knocked on the head in a
+scrimmage. Cawnt remember nothing but his name, Francisco."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXIII"></a>CHAPTER LXXIII</h2>
+<h3>THE RETURN</h3>
+<br>
+<p>In the fall of 1898 a man of middle years walked slowly down the
+stairs which plunged a traveler from the new Ferry building's upper
+floor into the maelstrom of Market street's beginning. Cable cars
+were whirling on turn-tables, newsboys shouted afternoon editions;
+hack drivers, flower vendors, train announcers added their babel of
+strident-toned outcries to the clanging of gongs, the clatter of
+wheels and hoofs upon cobblestone streets. Ferry sirens screamed;
+an engine of the Belt Line Railroad chugged fiercely as it pulled a
+train of freight cars toward the southern docks.</p>
+<p>The stranger paused, apparently bewildered by this turmoil.</p>
+<p>He was a stalwart, rather handsome man, bearded and bronzed as
+if through long exposure. And in his walk there was a suggestion of
+that rolling gait which smacks of maritime pursuits. He proceeded
+aimlessly up Market street, gazing round him, still with that odd,
+half-doubting and half-troubled manner. In front of the Palace
+Hotel he paused, seemed about to enter, but went on. He halted once
+again at Third street, surveying a tall brick building with a clock
+tower.</p>
+<p>"What place is that?" he queried of a bystander.</p>
+<p>"That? Why, the Chronicle building."</p>
+<p>The stranger was silent for a moment. Then he said, in a
+curious, detached tone, "I thought it was at Bush and Kearney."</p>
+<p>"Oh, not for eight years," said the other. "Did you live here,
+formerly?"</p>
+<p>"I? No." He spoke evasively and hurried on. "I wonder what made
+me say that?" he mumbled to himself.</p>
+<p>Down Kearney street he walked. Now and then his eyes lit as if
+with some half-formed memory and he made queer, futile gestures
+with his hands. Before a stairway leading to an upper floor, he
+stopped, and, with the dreamy, passive air of a somnambulist,
+ascended, entering through swinging doors a large, pleasant room,
+tapestried, ornamented with paintings and statuary. Half a dozen
+men lounging in large leathern chairs glanced up and away with
+polite unrecognition. The stranger was made aware of a boy in a
+much-buttoned uniform holding a silver tray.</p>
+<p>"Who do you wish to see, sir?"</p>
+<p>"Oh--ah--" spoke the stranger, "this is the Bohemian Club, isn't
+it?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, sir. Shall I call the house manager, sir?"</p>
+<p>At the other's nod he vanished to return with a spectacled man
+who looked inquiring.</p>
+<p>"I beg your pardon--for intruding," said the bearded man slowly.
+"But--I couldn't help it.... I was once a member here."</p>
+<p>"Indeed?" said the spectacled man, tentatively cordial, still
+inquiring. "And you're name--"</p>
+<p>From the bearded lips there came a gutteral sound--as if speech
+had failed him. He gazed at the spectacled personage helplessly.
+"I--don't know." Sudden weakness seemed to seize him. Still with
+the helpless expression in his eyes, he retreated, found a chair
+and sank into it. He passed a hand feverishly before his eyes.</p>
+<p>The spectacled man acted promptly.</p>
+<p>"Garrison, you're one of the ancients round this club," he
+addressed a smiling, gray-haired man of plump and jovial mien.
+"Come and talk to the Mysterious Stranger.... Says he was a member
+ten or fifteen years ago.... Can't recollect who he is."</p>
+<p>"What do you wish me to do?" asked Garrison.</p>
+<p>"Pretend to recognize him. Talk to him about the Eighties....
+Get him oriented. It's plainly a case of amnesia."</p>
+<p>He watched Garrison approach the bearded man with outstretched
+hand; saw the other take it, half reluctantly. The two retired to
+an alcove, had a drink and soon were deep in conversation. The
+stranger seemed to unfold at this touch of friendliness. They heard
+him laugh. Another drink was ordered. After half an hour Garrison
+returned. He seemed excited. "Hold him there till I return," he
+urged. "I'm going to a newspaper office to look at some files."</p>
+<p>Fifteen minutes later he was back. "Come," he said, "I've got a
+cab ... want you to meet a friend of mine." He took the still-dazed
+stranger's arm. They went out, entered a carriage and were driven
+off. As they passed the City Hall the stranger said, as though
+astonished. "Why--it's finished, isn't it?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, at last," Garrison smiled. "Even Buckley couldn't hold it
+back forever."</p>
+<p>"Buckley ... he's the one who promised me a job, Is Pond the
+Mayor now?"</p>
+<p>"No," returned the other. "Phelan." As he spoke the carriage
+stopped before a rather ornate dwelling, somewhat out of place amid
+surrounding offices and shops. The stranger started violently as
+they approached it. Again the gutteral sound came from his
+lips.</p>
+<p>The door opened and a woman appeared; a woman tall, sad-faced
+and eager-eyed. Beside her was a lad as tall as she. They stared at
+the bearded stranger, the boy wide-eyed and curious; the woman with
+a piercing, concentrated hope that fears defeat.</p>
+<p>The man took a stumbling step forward. "Jeanne!" He halted half
+abashed. But the woman sobbing, ran to him and put her arms about
+his neck. For an instant he stood, stiffly awkward, his face very
+red. Then something snapped the shackles of his prisoned memory. A
+cry burst from him, inarticulately joyous. His arms went round
+her.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>It required weeks for Stanley to recover all his memories. It
+was a new world; Jeanne the one connecting link between the present
+and that still half-shadowy past from which he had been cast by
+some unceremonial jest of Fate into a strange existence. From the
+witless, nameless unit of a whaler's crew he had at last arisen to
+a fresh identity. Frank Starbird, they christened him, he knew not
+why. And when they found that he had clerical attainments, the
+captain, who was really a decent fellow, had befriended him; found
+him a berth in a store at Sitka.... Since then he had roamed up and
+down the world, mostly as purser of ships, forever haunted by the
+memory of some previous identity he could not fathom. He had been
+to Russia, India, Europe's seaports, landing finally at Baltimore.
+Thence some mastering impulse took him Westward. And here he was
+again, Francisco Stanley.</p>
+<p>It was difficult to realize that fifteen years had flown. Jeanne
+seemed so little older. But the tall young son was startling
+evidence of Time's passage. Stanley used to sit gazing at him
+silently during those first few days, as though trying to drink in
+the stupendous fact of his existence. Old friends called to hear
+his adventures; he was given a dinner at the club where he learned,
+with some surprise, that he was not unfamous as an author. Jeanne
+had finished his book and found a publisher. Between the
+advertisement of his mysterious disappearance and its real merits,
+the volume had a vogue.</p>
+<p>Robert had married Maizie after her mother's death. They lived
+in the Windham house in Old South Park, for Benito and Alice had
+never returned from the East. Po Lun and Hang Far had gone to
+China.</p>
+<p>Slowly life resumed its formed status for Francisco.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXIV"></a>CHAPTER LXXIV</h2>
+<h3>THE "REFORMER"</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Francisco loved to wander round the town, explore its nooks and
+corners and make himself, for the time being, a part of his
+surroundings. A smattering of European languages aided him in this.
+He rubbed elbows with coatless workmen in French, Swiss, Spanish
+and Italian "pensions," sitting at long tables and breaking black
+bread into red wine. He drank black coffee and ate cloying
+sweetmeats in Greek or Turkish cafes; hobnobbed with Sicilian
+fishermen, helping them to dry their nets and sometimes
+accompanying them in their feluccas into rough seas beyond the
+Heads. Now and then he invaded Chinatown and ate in their
+underground restaurants, disdaining the "chop suey" and sweets
+invariably served to tourists for the more palatable and engaging
+viands he had learned to like and name in Shanghai and Canton.
+Fortunately, he could afford to indulge his bent, for the value of
+his inheritance had increased extraordinarily in the past decade.
+Stanley's income was more than sufficient to insure a life of
+leisure.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>At Market and Fourth streets stood a large and rather
+nondescript gray structure built by Flood, the Comstock
+millionaire. It had served for varied purposes, but now it housed
+the Palais Royal, an immense saloon and gambling rendezvous. In the
+massive, barn-like room, tile-floored and picture-ornamented, were
+close to a hundred tables where men of all descriptions drank,
+played cards and talked. Farther to the rear were private
+compartments, from which came the incessant click of poker
+chips.</p>
+<p>Francisco and Robert sometimes lunched at the Palais Royal. The
+former liked its color and the vital energy he always found there.
+Robert "sat in" now and then at poker. He had a little of his
+father's love for Chance, but a restraining sanity left him little
+the loser in the long run. Robert had three children, the eldest a
+girl of twelve. Petite and dainty Maizie had become a plump and
+bustling mother-hen.</p>
+<p>It was in the Palais Royal that Francisco met Abraham Ruef, a
+dapper and engaging gentleman of excellent address, greatly
+interested in politics. He was a graduate of the State University,
+where he had specialized in political economy.</p>
+<p>Francisco liked him, and they often sat for long discussions of
+the local situation after lunching at the Palais Royal. Ruef, in a
+small way, was a rival of Colonel Dan Burns, the Republican boss.
+Burns, they said, was jealous of Ruef's reform activites.</p>
+<p>"If one could get the laboring class together," Ruef told
+Stanley, "one could wield a mighty power. Some day, perhaps, I
+shall do it. The laborer is a giant, unconscious of his strength.
+He submits to Capital's oppression, unwitting of his own capacity
+to rule. For years we've had nothing but strikes, which have only
+strengthened employers."</p>
+<p>"Yes, they're always broken," said Francisco.</p>
+<p>"The strike is futile. Organization--political unity; that's the
+thing."</p>
+<p>"A labor party, eh?" Francisco spoke, a trifle dubiously.</p>
+<p>"Yes, but not the usual kind. It must be done right." His eyes
+shone. "Ah, I can see it all so plainly. If I could make it clear
+to others--"</p>
+<p>"Why don't you try?" asked Stanley.</p>
+<p>But Ruef shook his head. "I lack the 'presence.' Do you know
+what I mean? No matter how smart I may be, they see in me only a
+small man. So they think I have small ideas. That is human nature.
+And they say, 'He's a Jew.' Which is another drawback."</p>
+<p>He was silent a moment. "I have thought it all out.... I must
+borrow the 'presence.'"</p>
+<p>"What do you mean?" Francisco was startled.</p>
+<p>"We shall see," Ruef responded. "Perhaps I shall find me a
+man--big, strong, impressive--with a mind easily led.... Then I
+shall train him to be a leader. I shall furnish the brain."</p>
+<p>"What a curious thought!" said Francisco. Ruef, smiling, shook
+his head. "It is not new at all," he said. "If you read political
+history you will soon discover that."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Francisco worked at his novel. Word came of Alice Windham's
+death in Massachusetts. Robert urged his father to return to San
+Francisco, but Benito sought forgetfulness in European travel.</p>
+<p>Frank had finished high school; was a cub reporter on The
+Bulletin. Pickering was dead; his widow and her brother, R.A.
+Crothers, had taken over the evening paper; John D. Spreckels,
+sugar nabob, now controlled the Call.</p>
+<p>Newspaper policies were somewhat uncertain in these days of
+economic unrest. Strike succeeded strike, and with each there came
+a greater show of violence. Lines were more sharply drawn. Labor
+and capital organized for self-protection and offense.</p>
+<p>"I hear that Governor Gage is coming down to settle the
+teamsters' strike," said Francisco to his son as they lunched
+together one sultry October day in 1901. "I can't understand why
+he's delayed until now."</p>
+<p>"Probably wanted to keep out of it as long as possible,"
+responded Frank. "There are strong political forces on each side
+... but the story goes that Colonel 'Montezuma' Burns is jealous of
+Ruef's overtures to workingmen. So he's ordered the Governor to
+make a grandstand play."</p>
+<br>
+<a name="page342.jpg"></a>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/page342.jpg" width="85%" alt=
+""><br>
+<b>"Perhaps I shall find me a man--big, strong, impressive--with a
+mind easily led.... Then I shall train him to be a leader.... I
+shall furnish the brain".</b></p>
+<br>
+<p>Stanley looked at his son in astonishment. He was not yet
+nineteen and he talked like a veteran of forty. Francisco wondered
+if these were his own deductions or mere parroted gossip of the
+office.</p>
+<p>Later that afternoon he met Robert and told him of Frank's
+comment. Robert thought the situation over ere he answered.</p>
+<p>"The employing class is fearful," he said. "They've controlled
+things so long they don't know what may happen if they lose the
+reins. It's plain that Phelan can't be re-elected. And it's true
+that if the labor men effect a real organization they may name the
+next Mayor. Rather a disturbing situation."</p>
+<p>"Have you heard any talk about a man named Schmitz? A labor
+candidate?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, I think I have. The chap's a fiddler in a theater
+orchestra. Big, fine looking. But I can't imagine that he has the
+brains to make a winning fight."</p>
+<p>"Big! Fine looking! Hm!" repeated Stanley.</p>
+<p>"Meaning--what?" asked Robert.</p>
+<p>"Nothing much.... I just remembered something Ruef was telling
+me." He walked on thoughtfully. "Might be a story there for the
+boy's paper," he cogitated.</p>
+<p>Ruef's offices were at the corner of Kearney and California
+streets. Thither, with some half-formed mission in his mind,
+Francisco took his way. A saturnine man took him up in a little
+box-like elevator, pointing out a door inscribed:</p>
+<blockquote>A. RUEF,<br>
+Att'y-at-Law.</blockquote>
+<p>The reception-room was filled. Half a dozen men and two women
+sat in chairs which lined the walls. A businesslike young man
+inquired Francisco's errand. "You'll have to wait your turn," he
+said. "I can't go in there now ... he's in conference with Mr.
+Schmitz."</p>
+<p>Francisco decided not to wait. After all, he had learned what he
+came for.</p>
+<p>Abe Ruef had borrowed a "presence."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXV"></a>CHAPTER LXXV</h2>
+<h3>A NOCTURNAL ADVENTURE</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Stanley was to learn much more of Eugene Schmitz. It was in fact
+the following day that he met Ruef and the violinist at Zinkand's.
+Schmitz was a man of imposing presence. He stood over six feet
+high; his curly coal-black hair and pointed beard, his dark,
+luminous eyes and a certain dash in his manner, gave him a glamor
+of old-world romance. In a red cap and ermine-trimmed robe, he
+might have been Richelieu, defying the throne. Or, otherwise clad,
+the Porthos of Dumas' "Three Musketeers."</p>
+<p>Francisco could not help reflecting that Ruef had borrowed a
+very fine presence indeed.</p>
+<p>Ruef asked Francisco to his table. He talked a great deal about
+politics. Schmitz listened open-eyed; Stanley more astutely. All at
+once Ruef leaned toward Francisco.</p>
+<p>"What do you think of Mr. Schmitz--as a candidate for Mayor?" he
+asked.</p>
+<p>"I think," Francisco answered meaningly, "that you have chosen
+well." They rose, shook hands. To Francisco's surprise Schmitz left
+them. "I have a matinee this afternoon," he said. Ruef walked down
+Market street with Stanley.</p>
+<p>"He's leader of the Columbia orchestra.... I met him through my
+dealings with the Musicians' Union." Impulsively he grasped
+Francisco's arm. "Isn't he a wonder? I'll clean up the town with
+him. Watch me!"</p>
+<p>"And, are you certain you can manage this chap?"</p>
+<p>Ruef laughed a quiet little laugh of deep content. "Oh, Gene is
+absolutely plastic. Just a handsome musician. And of good, plain
+people. His father was a German band leader; his mother is
+Irish--Margaret Hogan. That will help. And he is a Native Son."</p>
+<p>Ruef babbled on. He had a great plan for combining all political
+factions--an altruistic dream of economic brotherhood. Francisco
+listened somewhat skeptically. He was not certain of the man's
+sincerity, but he admired Ruef. Of his executive ability there
+could be no doubt.</p>
+<p>Yet there was something vaguely wrong about the wondrous fitness
+of Ruef's plan. Mary Godwin Shelley's tale of "Frankenstein" came
+to Francisco's mind.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>That evening Frank said to his father, with a wink at Jeanne,
+"Want to go slumming with me tonight, father? I'm going to do my
+first signed story: 'The Night-Life of This Town'."</p>
+<p>"Do you think I ought to, Jeanne?" asked her husband
+whimsically. He glanced at his son. "This younger generation is a
+trifle--er--vehement for old fogies like me."</p>
+<p>Jeanne came over and sat on the arm of his chair. "Nonsense,"
+she said, "you are just as young as ever, Francisco.... Yes, go
+with the boy, by all means. I'll run up to Maizie's for the
+evening. She's making a dress for Alice's birthday party. She will
+be sixteen next month."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Francisco and his son went gaily forth to see their city after
+dark. Truth to tell, the father knew more of it than the lad, who
+acted as conductor. Francisco's wanderings in search of 'local
+color' had included some nocturnal quests. However, he kept this to
+himself and let Frank do the guiding.</p>
+<p>They went, first, to a large circular building called the
+Olympia, at Eddy and Mason streets. It was the heart of what was
+called the Tenderloin, a gay and hectic region frequented by
+half-world folk, but not unknown to travelers nor to members of
+society, Slumming parties were both fashionable and frequent. Two
+girls were capering and carolling behind the footlights.</p>
+<p>"They are Darlton and Boice," explained young Stanley. "The one
+with the perpetual smile is a great favorite. She's Boice. She's
+got a daughter old as I, they say."</p>
+<p>They visited the Thalia, a basement "dive" of lower order, and
+returned to the comparative respectability of the Oberon beer hall
+on O'Farrell street, where a plump orchestra of German females
+played sprightly airs; thence back to Market street and the Midway.
+"Little Egypt," tiny, graceful, sensually pretty, performed a
+"danse du ventre," at the conclusion of a long program of crude and
+often ribald "turns." When "off-stage" the performers, mostly
+girls, drank with the audience in a tier of curtained boxes which
+lined the sides of the auditorium. At intervals the curtains parted
+for a moment and faces peered down. A drunken sailor in a forward
+box was tossing silver coins to a dancer.</p>
+<p>They made their exit, Francisco frankly weary and the young
+reporter bored by the unrelieved crudity of it all. A smart
+equipage, with champing horses, stood before the entrance. They
+paused to glance at it.</p>
+<p>"Looks like Harry Bear's carriage," Frank commented. "You know
+the young society blood who's had so many larks." He turned back.
+"Wait a minute, father, I'm going in. If Bear has a party upstairs
+in those boxes it'll make good copy."</p>
+<p>"It'll make a scandal, you mean," returned Francisco rather
+crisply. "You can't print the women's names."</p>
+<p>"Bosh!" the younger man retorted pertly. "Everyone's doing this
+sort of thing now. Come along, dad. See the fun." He caught his
+father's arm and they re-entered, taking the stairs, this time, to
+the boxes above. From one came a man's laughing banter. "That's
+he," Frank whispered, Hastily he drew his half reluctant father
+into a vacant box. A waiter brought them beer, collected half a
+dollar and inquired if they wanted "Company." Francisco shook his
+head.</p>
+<p>The man in the adjoining box was drunk, the girl was frightened.
+Their voices filtered plainly through the thin partition. He was
+urging her to drink and she was protesting. Finally she screamed.
+Stanley and his son sprang simultaneously to the rescue. They found
+a young man in an evening suit trying to kiss a very pretty
+girl.</p>
+<p>His ears were red where she had boxed them and as he turned a
+rather foolish face surprisedly toward the intruders, a scratch
+showed livid on one cheek. The girl's hair streamed disheveled by
+the struggle. She caught up, hastily, a handsome opera cloak to
+cover her torn corsage.</p>
+<p>"Please," she said, "get me out of here quickly.... I'll pay you
+well." Then she flushed as young Stanley stiffened. "I ... I beg
+your pardon."</p>
+<p>He offered her his arm and they passed from the box together.
+The befuddled swain, after a dazed interval, attempted to follow,
+but Francisco flung him back. He heard the carriage door shut with
+a snap, the clatter of iron-shod hoofs. Then he went out to look
+for Frank, but did not find him. Evidently he had gone with the
+lady. Francisco smiled. It was quite an adventure. Thoughtfully he
+gazed at the banners flung across Market street:</p>
+<blockquote>"VOTE FOR EUGENE SCHMITZ,<br>
+<br>
+"The Workingman's Friend."</blockquote>
+<br>
+<p>That was Abraham Ruef's adventure. He wondered how each of them
+would end.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXVI"></a>CHAPTER LXXVI</h2>
+<h3>POLITICS AND ROMANCE</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Ruef swept the field with his handsome fiddler. All "South of
+Market street" rallied to his support. The old line parties brought
+their trusty, well-oiled election machinery into play, but it
+availed them little.</p>
+<p>Robert and Francisco met one day soon after the election.
+"Everyone is laughing at our fiddler Mayor," said the former. "He's
+like a king without a court; for all the other offices were carried
+by Republicans and Democrats."</p>
+<p>Francisco smoked a moment thoughtfully. "Union Labor traded
+minor offices for Mayoralty votes, I understand. Meanwhile Ruef is
+building his machine. He has convinced the labor people that he
+knows the game. They've given him carte blanche."</p>
+<p>"And how does the big fellow take it?"</p>
+<p>"I was talking with him yesterday," Francisco answered. "Schmitz
+is shy just yet. But feels his dignity. Oh, mightily!" He laughed.
+"Little Abe will have his hands full with big 'Gene, I'm
+thinking."</p>
+<p>"But Ruef's not daunted by the prospect."</p>
+<p>"Heavens, no. The man has infinite self-confidence. And it's no
+fatuous egotism, either. A sort of suave, unshakable trust in
+himself. Abe Ruef's the cleverest politician San Francisco's known
+in many years--perhaps since Broderick. He makes such men as Burns
+and Buckley look like tyros--"</p>
+<p>Robert looked up quickly. "By the way, I've often wondered
+whether Buckley wasn't guilty of your disappearance. He meant you
+no good."</p>
+<p>"No," Francisco answered. "I've looked into that. Chris,
+himself, had no connection with it. Once he threatened me ... but
+I've since learned what he meant.... Just a little blackmail which
+concerned a woman. But--" he hesitated.</p>
+<p>Robert moved uneasily. "But--what?"</p>
+<p>"Oh, well, it didn't work. The girl he planned to use told him
+the truth." Francisco, too, seemed ill at ease. "It was so long ago
+... it's all forgotten."</p>
+<p>"I trust so," said the other. Rather abruptly he rose. "Must be
+getting back to work."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Once a week Frank donned his evening clothes and was driven to a
+certain splendid home on Pacific Heights. Bertha Larned met him
+always with a smile--and a different gown. Each successive one
+seemed more splendid, becoming, costly. And ever the lady seemed
+more sweet as their intimacy grew. Once when Frank had stammered an
+enthusiastic appreciation of her latest gown--a wondrous thing of
+silk and lace that seemed to match the changing fires in her
+eyes--she said suddenly: "What a fright I must have looked that
+evening--in the Midway! And what you must have thought of me--in
+such a place!"</p>
+<p>"Do you wish to know just what I thought?" Frank asked her,
+reddening.</p>
+<p>"Yes." Her eyes, a little shamed, but brave, met his.</p>
+<p>"Well," he said, "you stood there with your hair all streaming
+and your--and that splendid fire in your eyes. The beauty of you
+struck me like a whip. You seemed an angel--after all the sordid
+sights I'd seen. And--"</p>
+<p>"Go on--please;" her eyes were shining.</p>
+<p>"Then--it's sort of odd--but I wanted to fight for you!"</p>
+<p>She came a little closer.</p>
+<p>"Some day, perhaps," she spoke with sudden gravity, "I may ask
+you to do that."</p>
+<p>"What? Fight for you?"</p>
+<p>Bertha nodded.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>It was after the Olympia had been made over into a larger Tivoli
+Opera House that Frank met Aleta Boice. She was a member of the
+chorus. Their acquaintance blossomed from propinquity, for both had
+a fashion of supping on the edge of midnight at a little
+restaurant, better known by its sobriquet of "Dusty Doughnut," than
+by its real name, which long ago had been forgotten.</p>
+<p>Frank had formed the habit of sitting at a small table somewhat
+isolated from the others where now and then he wrote an article or
+editorial. Hitherto it had unvaryingly been at his disposal, for
+the hour of Frank's reflection was not a busy one. Therefore he was
+just a mite annoyed to find his table tenanted by a woman. Perhaps
+his irritation was apparent; or, perchance, Aleta had a knack for
+reading faces, for she colored.</p>
+<p>"I--I beg your pardon. Have I got your place?"</p>
+<p>"N-no," protested Frank. "I sit here often ... that's no
+matter."</p>
+<p>"Well," she said; "don't let me drive you off. I'll not be
+comfortable.... Let's share it, then," she smiled; "tonight, at
+least."</p>
+<p>They did. Frank found her very like her mother--the smiling one
+of Darlton and Boice, Olympia entertainers of past years. One
+couldn't call her pretty, when her face was in repose. But that was
+seldom, so it didn't matter. Her smile was like a spring, a
+fountain of perennial good nature. And her eyes were trusting, like
+a child's. Frank often wondered how she had maintained that look of
+eager innocence amid the life she lived.</p>
+<p>Frank learned much of her past. She could barely remember the
+father, who was a circus acrobat and had been killed by a fall from
+a trapeze. Her mother had retired from the stage; she was doing
+needlework for the department stores and the Woman's Exchange.</p>
+<p>"Every morning she teaches me grammar," said Aleta. "Mother's
+never wanted me to talk slang like the other girls. She says if
+you're careless with your English you get careless of your
+principles. Mother's got a lot of quaint ideas like that."</p>
+<p>Again came her rippling laugh. Frank grew to enjoy her; look
+forward to the nightly fifteen minutes of companionship. They never
+met anywhere else. But when an illness held Aleta absent for a week
+the Dusty Doughnut seemed a lonesome place.</p>
+<p>Bertha twitted Frank upon his absent-mindedness one evening as
+he dined with her. By an effort he shook off his vagary of the
+other girl. He loved Bertha. But, for some unfathomed cause, she
+held him off. Never had she let him reach a declaration.</p>
+<p>"We're such marvelous friends!... Can't we always be that--just
+that?"</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Things drifted on. Schmitz, as a Mayor, caused but small remark.
+He reminded Frank of a rustic, sitting at a banquet board and
+watching his neighbors before daring to pick up a fork or spoon.
+But Ruef went on building his fences. Union Labor was now a force
+to deal with. And Ruef was Union Labor.</p>
+<p>One of Robert's clients desired to open a French restaurant,
+with the usual hotel appurtenances. He made application in the
+usual manner. But the license was denied.</p>
+<p>Robert was astonished for no reason was assigned and all
+requests for explanation were evaded.</p>
+<p>A week or so later, Robert met the restaurateur. "Well, I've
+done it," said the latter, jovially. "Open Monday, Come around and
+eat with me."</p>
+<p>"But--how did you manage it?"</p>
+<p>"Oh, I took a tip. I made Ruef my attorney. Big retaining fee,"
+he sighed. "But--well, it's worth the price."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXVII"></a>CHAPTER LXXVII</h2>
+<h3>ALETA'S PROBLEM</h3>
+<br>
+<p>By the end of Schmitz' second term the Democrats and Republicans
+were thoroughly alarmed. They saw a workingmen's control of city
+government loom large and imminent, with all its threat of
+overturned political tradition.</p>
+<p>So the old line parties got together. They made it a campaign of
+Morality against imputed Vice. They selected as a fusion
+standard-bearer George S. Partridge, a young lawyer of unblemished
+reputation--and of untried strength.</p>
+<p>"If Ruef succeeds a third time," Frank said to his father,
+"he'll control the town. He'll elect a full Board of Supervisors
+... that is freely prophesied if Union Labor wins. You ought to see
+his list of candidates--waffle bakers, laundry wagon
+drivers--horny-fisted sons of toil and parasites of politics.
+Heaven help us if they get in power!"</p>
+<p>"But there's always a final reckoning ... like the Vigilance
+Committee," said Francisco, slowly. "Somehow, I feel that there's a
+shakeup coming."</p>
+<p>"A moral earthquake, eh?" laughed Jeanne. "I wouldn't want to
+have a real one, with all of our new skyscrapers."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>After dinner Stanley and his son strolled downtown together.
+Exercise and diet had been recommended, Francisco was acquiring
+embonpoint. Frank was enthusiastic over the new motor carriages
+called automobiles.</p>
+<p>Robert had one of them--the gasoline type--with a
+<i>chauffeur</i>, as the French called the drivers of such
+machines. Bertha Larned had an "electric coupe," very handsome and
+costly, with plate-glass windows on three sides. She drove it
+herself. Frank sometimes encountered it downtown, looking like a
+moving glass cage, with the two women in it. Mrs. Larned, the aunt,
+always had a slightly worried expression, and Bertha, as she
+steered the thing through a tangle of horse-drawn traffic, wore a
+singularly determined look.</p>
+<p>There were cable cars on most of the streets; a few electric
+lines which ran much more swiftly. But people deemed the latter
+dangerous. There was much popular sentiment against electrizing
+Market street. The United Railways, which had succeeded the old
+Market Street Railway Company, was in disfavor. There were rumors
+of illicit bargains with the Supervisors for the granting of
+proposed new franchises. Young Partridge made much of this. He
+warned the public that it was about to be "betrayed." But his
+prophetic eloquence availed him little. Schmitz and all the Union
+Labor candidates won by a great majority.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Frank sought Aleta at the Dusty Doughnut some months later. He
+was very tired, for the past few days had brought a multitude of
+tasks. He had counted on Aleta's smile. It seldom failed to cheer
+him, to restore the normal balance of his mind. But, though she
+came, the smile was absent. There was a faint ghost of it now and
+again; a harried look about the eyes. Frank thought there was a
+mistiness which hinted recent tears.</p>
+<p>He laid a hand sympathetically on hers. "What is it, little
+girl?"</p>
+<p>She would not tell him. Her mother was ill. But the trouble did
+not lie there. Frank was sure. She had borne that burden long and
+uncomplainingly. Aleta had an ingenue part now at the Alcazar. Only
+once or twice a week did she keep the tacit tryst at the little
+nocturnal cafe. Frank saw her at the Techau, at Zinkand's, the St.
+Germain, with the kind of men that make love to actresses. She knew
+all about the stock market and politics, for some of Ruef's new
+Supervisors were among her swains. Once or twice, as the jargon of
+the journals has it, she had "tipped off" a story to Frank.</p>
+<p>She said at last, "I'll tell you something ... but you mustn't
+print it: This new city government is running wild.... They're
+scheming to hold up the town. They've made a list of all the
+corporations--the United Railways, the telephone company....
+Everyone that wants a favor of the city must pay high. The man who
+told me this said that his share will total $30,000. Ruef and
+Schmitz will probably be millionaires."</p>
+<p>"But how's it to be done? They're being watched, you know.
+They've lots of enemies. Bribery would land them in the
+penitentiary."</p>
+<p>The girl leaned forward. "Ah, this isn't ordinary bribery.
+Anyone that wants a franchise or a license hires Ruef as his
+attorney. They say he gets as high at $10,000 for a retaining fee
+... and they expect to clean the street car company out of a
+quarter million."</p>
+<p>Prank stared. "Why--in God's name!--did he tell you this?"</p>
+<p>"He loves me." There was something like defiance in her answer.
+"He wants me to accompany him to Europe--when he gets the coin. He
+says it won't be long."</p>
+<p>"So"--Frank was a little nonplussed--"he wants you to marry
+him?"</p>
+<p>"No," the girl's face reddened. "No, I can't ... he's got a
+wife."</p>
+<p>For a moment there was silence. Then. "What did you tell
+the--hound, Aleta?"</p>
+<p>"He's not a hound," she said evenly. "The wife won't care. She
+runs with other men...." Her eyes would not meet Frank's.
+"I--haven't answered."</p>
+<p>"But--your mother!"</p>
+<p>"Mother's mind is gone," Aleta answered, bitterly. "She doesn't
+even recognize me now.... But she's happy." Her laugh rang,
+mirthless.</p>
+<p>"Aleta," he said, sternly, "do you love this man?"</p>
+<p>"No," she said and stared at him. "I--I--"</p>
+<p>"What?"</p>
+<p>"I love another--if you must know all about it."</p>
+<p>"Can't you--marry <i>him?</i> Is he too poor?" asked
+Stanley.</p>
+<p>"Poor?" Her eyes were stars; "that wouldn't matter. No, he's not
+my sort...."</p>
+<p>"Does he know?"</p>
+<p>"No," Aleta answered, hastily. "No, he doesn't ... and he never
+will."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Frank told his father something of the conversation.</p>
+<p>"Its an open secret," said Francisco, "that Ruef and his crew
+are out for the coin. I'll tell you something else you mustn't
+print, your paper is determined to expose Ruef. The managing editor
+is on his way to Washington to confer with President Roosevelt....
+The plan is to borrow Francis Heney and William J. Burns."</p>
+<p>"What? The pair that has been exposing Senators and land frauds
+up in Oregon?"</p>
+<p>His father nodded. "Phew!" The young man whistled. "You were
+right when you predicted that there was a shakeup coming."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Frank, expecting startling things to happen, kept his mind
+alert. But the months passed uneventfully. The editor returned from
+Washington. No sensational announcement followed the event. Later
+it was rumored that Burns had sent operatives to the city. They
+were gathering evidence, one understood, but if they did, naught
+seemed to come of it. Frank was vaguely disappointed. Now and then
+he saw Aleta, but the subject of their former talk was not resumed.
+Vaguely he wondered what manner of man was her beloved.</p>
+<p>Frank resented the idea that he was above her. Aleta was good
+enough for any man.</p>
+<p>Bertha was visiting her aunt's home in the East. She had been
+very restless and capricious just before she went. All women were
+thus, he supposed. But he missed her.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER LXXVIII</h2>
+<h3>THE FATEFUL MORN</h3>
+<br>
+<p>On the evening of April 17, 1906, Frank and Bertha, who had
+recently returned, attended the opera. The great Caruso, whose
+tenor voice had taken the East by storm, and whose salary was
+reputed to be fabulous, had come at last to San Francisco.
+Fremsted, almost equally famous, was singing with him in "Carmen"
+at the Grand Opera House. All the town turned out in broadcloth,
+diamonds, silks and d&eacute;collet&eacute; to hear them--a younger
+generation of San Franciscans assuming a bit uncomfortably that
+social importance which had not yet become genealogically sure of
+itself.</p>
+<p>Frank and Bertha drove down in the electric brougham, for which
+they had with difficulty found a place along the vehicle-lined curb
+of Mission street. And, as they were early, they halted in the
+immense and handsome, though old-fashioned, foyer to observe the
+crowd. The air was heavy with perfume.</p>
+<p>"Look at that haughty dame with a hundred-thousand dollar
+necklace," he smiled. "One would have thought her father was at
+least a king. Forty years ago he drove a dray.... And that one with
+the ermine coat and priceless tiara. Wouldn't you take her for a
+princess? Ah, well, more power to her! But her mother cleaned
+soiled linen in Washerwoman's Lagoon and her dad renovated
+cuspidors, swept floors in the Bella Union."</p>
+<p>But the girl did not seem interested. "I wonder," she remarked a
+little later, "why it makes so very much--ah--difference ... who
+one's parents were?"</p>
+<p>There was a curious, half-detached sadness in her tone. Frank
+wondered suddenly if he had blundered. Bertha had never mentioned
+her parents. He vaguely understood that they had died abroad and
+had foreborne to question, fearing to arouse some tragic
+memory.</p>
+<p>"Of course, it really doesn't matter," he said hastily; "it's
+only when people put on airs that I think of such things." She took
+his arm with fingers that trembled slightly. "Let us go in. The
+overture is beginning."</p>
+<p>During an intermission she whispered. "I wish I were like
+Carmen--bold enough to fight the world for lo--for what I
+wanted."</p>
+<p>"Aren't you?" he turned and looked at her.</p>
+<p>"No, sometimes I'm overwhelmed ... feel as though I can't look
+life in the face." He saw that her lips were trembling, that her
+eyes were winking back the tears.</p>
+<p>"What is it, dear?" he questioned. But she did not answer. The
+curtain rose upon the final act.</p>
+<p>Silently they moved out with a throng whose silk skirts swished
+and rustled. The men were restless, glad of a chance at the open
+and a smoke; the women gay, exalted, half intoxicated by the
+musical appeal to their emotions. There was an atmosphere almost of
+hysteria in the great swiftly emptying auditorium.</p>
+<p>"I feel sort of--smothered," Bertha said; "suppose we walk."</p>
+<p>"Gladly," answered Frank, "but what about the coupe?"</p>
+<p>"There's one of these new livery stables with machine shop
+attached not far away. They call it a garage.... We'll leave the
+brougham there," she said.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>The night was curiously still--breathless one might have called
+it. While the temperature was not high, there was an effect of
+warmth, vaguely disturbing like the presage of a storm. As they
+traversed a region of hotels and apartment houses, Frank and Bertha
+noted many open windows; men and women staring out half dreamily.
+They passed a livery stable, out of which there came a weird
+uncanny dissonance of horses neighing in their stalls.</p>
+<p>"Tell me of your actress friend. Do you see her often?" Bertha
+asked.</p>
+<p>"Not very. She's a good pal. But she's ... well, not like
+you."</p>
+<p>Her eyes searched him. "Do you mean she's not as--pretty,
+Frank?"</p>
+<p>"Oh, I don't know," he answered. "It's because I love you, dear.
+Aleta's right enough. But she's not--oh, you know--essential."</p>
+<p>Bertha squeezed his arm. Was silent for a moment. Then, "Aleta's
+father was a circus rider?"</p>
+<p>"Acrobat. Yes, he was killed when she was quite a child."</p>
+<p>"But she remembers him; they were married, her mother" and
+he."</p>
+<p>"Why, yes, I suppose so ... naturally."</p>
+<p>There was another silence. Suddenly he turned on her, perplexed.
+"Bertha, what is wrong with you tonight?"</p>
+<p>They were crossing a little park high up above the city whose
+lights lay, shimmering and misty, below. The stillness was
+obtrusive here. Not a leaf stirred. There was no one about. They
+might have been alone upon some tropic peak.</p>
+<p>"I--can't tell you, Frank." Her tone of blended longing and
+despair caught at his heart.</p>
+<p>Impetuously his arms went around her. "Dear," he said
+unsteadily. "Dear, I want you.... Oh, Bertha, I've waited so long!
+I don't care any more if you're rich ... I'm going to--you've got
+to promise...."</p>
+<p>She tried to protest, to push him away; but Frank held her
+close. And, after a moment, like a tired child's, her head lay
+quiet on his shoulder; her arms stole round his neck; she began to
+weep softly.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>The horror came at dawn.</p>
+<p>Frank, startled from a late and restless slumber, thought that
+he was being shaken or attacked by some intruder. He sprang up,
+sleepily bewildered. The room rocked with a quick, sharp, jerking
+motion that was strangely terrifying. There was a dull
+indescribable rumbling, punctuated by a sound of falling things. A
+typewriter in one end of the room went over on the floor. A shaving
+mug danced on the shelf and fell. The windows rattled and a picture
+on the wall swayed drunkenly.</p>
+<p>"Damn!" Frank rubbed his eyes. "An earthquake!"</p>
+<p>He heard his mother's scream; his father's reassuring answer.
+Hurriedly he reached for his clothes. Downstairs he found his
+father endeavoring to calm the frightened servants, one of whom
+appeared to have hysterics. Presently his mother entered with the
+smelling salts. Soon the maid's unearthly laughter ceased.</p>
+<p>"Anyone hurt?" Frank questioned anxiously.</p>
+<p>"No," his father answered. "Thought the house was going over ...
+but there's little damage done."</p>
+<p>Suddenly Frank thought of Bertha. He must go to her. She would
+be frightened.</p>
+<p>He ran into the debris-cluttered street. Cable cars stood here
+and there, half twisted from the tracks, pavements were littered
+with bricks from fallen chimneys, bits of window glass. Men and
+women in various degrees of dishabille, were issuing from doorways.
+As he mounted higher, Frank saw smoke spirals rising from the
+southeastern part of town. He heard the strident clang of
+firegongs.</p>
+<p>Automobiles were tearing to and fro, with a great shrieking of
+siren whistles.</p>
+<p>It seemed like a nightmare through which he tore, without a
+sense of time or movement, arriving finally at the marble vestibule
+of Bertha's home. It was open and he rushed in, searching, calling.
+But he got no answer. Bertha, servants, aunt--all apparently had
+fled.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXIX"></a>CHAPTER LXXIX</h2>
+<h3>THE TURMOIL</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Frank never knew just why he turned toward the town from
+Bertha's empty dwelling. It was an involuntary reaction. The
+excitement of those lower levels seemed to call, and thence he
+sped. Several times acquaintances--newspaper men and
+others--accosted him. Everyone was eagerly alert, feverishly
+interested, as if by some great adventure. Japanese boys were
+sweeping up the litter in front of stores. In many places things
+were being put in order, as if the trouble were over. But at other
+points there was confusion and dread. Half-dressed men and women
+wandered about, questing for a cup of coffee, but there was none to
+be had, for the gas mains had broken.</p>
+<p>People converged toward parks and open spaces. Union Square was
+crowded with a strangely varied human mass; opera singers from the
+St. Francis Hotel, jabbering excitedly in Italian or French, and
+making many gestures with their jeweled hands; Chinese and Japanese
+from the Oriental quarter hard by; women-of-the-town, bedraggled,
+sleepy-eyed and fearful; sailors, clerks, folk from apartment
+houses.</p>
+<p>Near the pansy bed a woman lay. She screamed piercingly at
+intervals. Frank learned that she was in travail. By and by a
+doctor came, a nurse. They were putting up tents on the green
+sward. Automobiles rolled up, sounding their siren alarms. Out of
+them were carried bandaged men who moaned, silent forms on litters,
+more screaming women. They were taken to the tents. Extra police
+appeared to control the crowds that surged hither and thither
+without seeming reason, swayed by sudden curiosities and
+trepidation.</p>
+<p>San Francisco was burning. The water mains were broken by the
+quake, Frank learned. The fire department was demoralized. Chief
+Sullivan was dead. A falling chimney from the California Hotel had
+crushed him.</p>
+<p>There were emergency reservoirs, but no one seemed to know
+where. They had not been used for years.</p>
+<p>Swiftly the fire gained. It ravaged like a fiend in the factory
+district south and east, toward the bay.</p>
+<p>By noon a huge smoke curtain hid the sky; through it the sun
+gleamed palely like a blood-red disc. Wild rumors were in
+circulation. Los Angeles was wiped out. St. Louis had been
+destroyed. New York and Chicago were inundated by gigantic tidal
+waves.</p>
+<p>Frank decided to return home and discover how his people fared.
+Perhaps there would be a bite for him. He found his father's house
+surrounded by a cordon of young soldiers--student militiamen from
+Berkeley, some one said. They ordered him off.</p>
+<p>"But--" he cried. "It's my HOME. My father and mother are
+there."</p>
+<p>"They were ordered out two hours since," said a youthful
+officer, who came up to settle the dispute. "We'll have to dynamite
+the place.... No water.... Desperate measures necessary...."</p>
+<p>He stopped Frank's effort to reply with further stereotyped
+announcements. "Orders of the Admiral, Mayor, Chief of Police....
+Sorry. Can't be helped.... Keep back, everybody. Men have orders to
+shoot."</p>
+<p>He made off tempestuously busy and excited.</p>
+<p>Frank shouted after him, "Wait, where have my parents gone? Did
+they leave any word?"</p>
+<p>The young man turned, irritably. "Don't know," he answered, and
+resumed his vehement activities. Frank, with a strange, empty
+feeling, retraced his way, fought a path by means of sheer will and
+the virtue of his police badge across Market street, and struck out
+toward Lafayette Square. Scarcely realizing it, he was bound for
+Aleta's apartment.</p>
+<p>A warped shaft had incapacitated the automatic elevator, so he
+climbed three flights of stairs and found Aleta packing.</p>
+<p>"Frank!" she cried, and ran to him. "This is good of you." She
+took both of his hands and clung to them as if she were a little
+frightened.</p>
+<p>"Wait," she said. "I'll bet you've had nothing to eat. I'll make
+you a cup of coffee and a toasted cracker on the spirit lamp."</p>
+<p>Silently he sat on a broken chair and watched her. He was
+immensely grateful and--he suddenly realized--immensely weary. What
+a dear girl Aleta was! And he had not thought of her till all else
+failed him.</p>
+<p>Soon the coffee was steaming in two little Dresden cups, one
+minus a handle. There was a plateful of crackers, buttered and
+toasted, a bit of Swiss cheese. Frank had never tasted anything so
+marvelous.</p>
+<p>"Where were you going?" he asked, finally.</p>
+<p>"To the park ... the panhandle ... everybody's going there."</p>
+<p>"Your--mother!" A swift recollection smote him. "Where is
+she?"</p>
+<p>"Mother died last week," Aleta turned away. "I'm rather
+thankful--now."</p>
+<p>Silently he helped her with the packing. There were a suitcase
+and a satchel for the choice of her possessions. They required much
+picking and choosing. Many cherished articles must be
+abandoned.</p>
+<p>Suddenly Aleta ran to Frank. The room was rocking. Plaster fell
+about them. The girl screamed. To his astonishment, Frank found his
+arms around her waist. He was patting her dark, rumpled hair. Her
+hands were on his shoulders, and her piquant, wistful face close to
+his own. She had sought him like a frightened child. And he, with
+masculine protective impulse, had responded. That was all. Or was
+it? They looked into each other's eyes, bewildered, shaken. All was
+quiet now. The temblor had passed instantly and without harm.</p>
+<p>In the street they joined a motley aggregation moving westward
+in horse-driven vehicles, automobiles, invalid chairs, baby buggies
+and afoot. Rockers, filled with household goods, tied down and
+pulled by ropes, were part of the procession. Everyone carried or
+dragged the maximum load his or her strength allowed.</p>
+<p>When they reached that long narrow strip of park called the
+Panhandle it was close to dusk. They advanced some distance ere
+they found a vacant space. The first two blocks were covered like a
+gypsy camp with wagons, trunks and spread-out salvage of a hundred
+hastily abandoned homes. Improvised tents had been fashioned from
+blankets or sheets. Before one of these a bearded man was praying
+lustily for salvation. A neighbor watched him, smiling, and drank
+deeply from a pocket flask. A stout woman haled Aleta. "You and
+your husband got any blankets?" she asked.</p>
+<p>"No," the girl said, reddening. "No, we haven't ... and he's not
+..."</p>
+<p>"Well, never mind," the woman answered. "Take these two. It may
+come cold 'fore morning. And I've got more than I can use. We brung
+the wagon." She drew the girl aside and nudged her in the ribs.</p>
+<p>"We ain't married, either--Jim 'n' me. But what's the diff?"</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXX"></a>CHAPTER LXXX</h2>
+<h3>AFTERMATH</h3>
+<br>
+<p>About daylight the next morning Frank was awakened by a soft
+pattering sound. He jumped to his feet. Was it raining? All about
+folk stirred, held forth expectant hands to feel the drops. But
+they were fine white flakes--ashes from the distant conflagration.
+Aleta still lay moveless, wrapped in her blanket some ten feet
+away. They had been up most of the night, watching the flames, had
+seen them creep across Market street, up Powell, Mason, Taylor,
+Jones streets to Nob Hill. Finally Frank had persuaded Aleta to
+seek a little rest. Despite her protest that sleep was impossible,
+he had rolled her in one of the borrowed blankets, wrapping
+himself, Indianwise, in the other. Toward morning slumber had come
+to them both.</p>
+<p>Aleta, now awake, smiled at Frank and declared herself
+refreshed. "What had we better do next?" she questioned.</p>
+<p>Frank pondered. "Go to the Presidio, I guess. The army's serving
+food out there, I hear." He returned the blankets to their owner
+and the two of them set forth. On Oak street, near the mouth of
+Golden Gate Park, a broken street main spouted geyser-like out of
+the asphalt. They snatched a hurried drink, laved their faces and
+hands and went on, passing a cracker wagon, filled with big tin
+containers, and surrounded by a hungry crowd. The driver was
+passing out crackers with both hands, casting aside the tins when
+they were empty.</p>
+<p>"It's like the Millennium," Aleta remarked. "All classes of
+people herded together in common good will. Do you see that
+well-fed looking fellow carrying the ragged baby? He's a
+corporation lawyer. He makes $50,000 a year I'm told. And the fat
+woman he's helping with her numerous brood is a charwoman at the
+Alcazar theatre."</p>
+<p>Frank looked and laughed. "Why--it's my Uncle Robert!" he
+exclaimed.</p>
+<p>Robert Windham held out his free hand to Frank and Aleta. His
+family was safe, he told them. So were Francisco and Jeanne, who
+had joined the Windhams when the Stanley home was dynamited. They
+had gone to Berkeley and would stay with friends of Maizie's.</p>
+<p>Frank wrote down the address. He decided to remain in San
+Francisco. There was Aleta.... And, somehow, Bertha must be
+located.</p>
+<p>Everyone was bound for the Presidio.</p>
+<p>"You may find me there later," said Windham. "I've
+some--er--business on this side."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>At the great military post which slopes back on the green
+headlands from the Golden Gate, Frank and Aleta found a varied
+company. The hospitals were filled with men and women burned in the
+fire or hurt by falling walls. There were scores--perhaps a hundred
+of them. Frank, with his heart in his mouth, made a survey of the
+hospitals, after finding tent room for Aleta. His press badge
+gained admittance for him everywhere and he went through a pretence
+of taking notes. But he was looking for Bertha. At a large tent
+they were establishing an identification bureau, a rendezvous for
+separated families, friends or relatives. Many people crowded this
+with frantic inquiries.</p>
+<p>Soup was being served at the mess kitchens. Great wagons filled
+with loaves of bread drove in and were apportioned. Men, women and
+children formed in line to get their shares.</p>
+<p>The sky was still covered with smoke. Late comers reported that
+the fire had crossed Van Ness avenue. There were orders posted all
+about that one must not build fires indoors nor burn lights at
+night. Those who disobeyed would be shot. The orders were signed by
+Mayor Schmitz. Saloons had been closed for an indefinite period.
+Two men, found looting the dead, had been summarily executed by
+military order. Hundreds of buildings were being dynamited. The
+dull roar of these frequent explosions was plainly discernible at
+the Presidio.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>After they had eaten Frank said good-bye to Aleta. He was going
+back to town. The feverish adventure of it called him. And he had
+learned that there were many other camps of refugees. In one of
+these he might find Bertha. A milk wagon, clattering over the
+cobblestones overtook him and, without an invitation, he climbed
+aboard. Frank had little sense of destination or purpose. He wanted
+action. The thought of Bertha tugged at him now like a pain,
+insistent, quenchless. He tried to stifle it by movement, by
+absorbing interest in the wondrous drama all about him.</p>
+<p>Suddenly he sprang from the wagon. They had reached the park
+where he had learned of Bertha's love. Frank scarcely recognized
+the tiny pleasure ground, so covered was it with tents and bedding.
+It swarmed with people--a fact which Frank resented oddly. In the
+back of his mind was a feeling that this spot was sacred.</p>
+<p>He made his way among the litter of fabrics and humanity. These
+were mostly people from the valley where a foreign section lay.
+Loudly and excitedly they chattered in strange tongues, waving
+their hands about. Children wailed. All was disorder,
+uncontrol.</p>
+<p>Sickened of the place Frank turned to go, but something tugged
+at his coatsleeve; a haggard, elderly dishevelled man.</p>
+<p>Frank looked at the fellow in wonder. Then he gave a cry and
+took the fellow by the shoulders. He had recognized, despite
+disguising superficialities of garb and manner, Bertha's once
+spick-and-span butler.</p>
+<p>"God Almighty, Jarvis!" Frank could scarcely speak, his heart
+was pounding so. "Wh--where is she--Bertha?"</p>
+<p>"Come with me, sir," said the old man sadly. He led the way past
+sheet-hung bushes, over crumb-and-paper sprinkled lawns to a little
+retreat under sheltering trees. One had to stoop to enter that
+arbored, leaf encircled nest through which the sun fell like a
+dappled pattern on the grass. Frank adjusted his eyes to the dimmer
+light before he took in the picture: a girl lying, very pale and
+still, upon a gorgeous Indian blanket. She looked at him, cried out
+and stretched her arms forth feebly.</p>
+<p>"Bertha!" He knelt down beside her, pressed his lips to hers.
+Her arms about his neck were cold but strangely vibrant. For a
+moment they remained thus. Then he questioned, anxiously, "Bertha?
+What is wrong?"</p>
+<p>"Everything! The world!" she whispered. "When you left me
+dearest, I was happy! I had never dreamed that one could be so
+glad! But afterward ... I didn't dare to face the morning--and the
+truth!" Her lips quivered. "I--I couldn't stand it, Frank," she
+finished weakly.</p>
+<p>"She took morphia," said Jarvis. "When the earthquake came I
+couldn't wake her. I was scared. I carried her out here."</p>
+<p>"You tried to kill yourself!" Frank's tone was shocked,
+condemning. "After Tuesday night?"</p>
+<p>Her eyes craved pardon. She essayed to speak but her lips made
+wordless sounds. Finally she roused a little, caught his hand and
+held it to her breast.</p>
+<p>"Ask your Uncle Robert, dear?" she whispered. Her eyes looked
+into his with longing, with renunciation. A certain peace stole
+into them and slowly the eyelids closed.</p>
+<p>Frank, who had half grasped the meaning of her words, leaned
+forward fearfully. The hand which held his seemed colder, more
+listless. There was something different. Something that he could
+not name--that frightened him.</p>
+<p>Suddenly he realized its meaning. The heart which had pulsed
+beneath his fingers was still.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXXI"></a>CHAPTER LXXXI</h2>
+<h3>READJUSTMENT</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Of the trip to Berkeley which followed, Frank could not
+afterward recall the slightest detail. Between the time when, like
+a madman, he had tried to rouse his sweetheart from that final
+lethargy which knew no waking, and the moment when he burst upon
+his Uncle Robert with what must have seemed an insane question,
+Frank lost count of time.</p>
+<p>He was in the library of an Alameda county lawyer, host of the
+Stanley and the Windham families. Across the mahogany table,
+grasping the back of a chair for support, one hand half
+outstretched in a supplicating gesture, stood his Uncle
+Robert--pale, shaken ghost of the self-possessed man that he
+usually was. Between them, imminent with subtle violence, was the
+echo of Frank's question, hurled, like an explosive missile at the
+elder man:</p>
+<p>"Why did Bertha Larned kill herself?"</p>
+<p>After an interval of silence Windham pulled himself together;
+looked about him hastily ere he spoke. "Hush! Not here! Not now!"
+The eyes which sought Frank's were brilliant with suffering. "Is
+she--dead?"</p>
+<p>The young man nodded dumbly. Something like a sob escaped the
+elder. He was first to speak. "Come. We must get out of here. We
+must have a talk." He opened the door and went out, Frank
+following. In the street, which sloped sharply downward from a
+major elevation, they could see the bay of San Francisco, the
+rising smoke cloud on the farther shore. They walked together
+upward, away from the houses, toward a grove of eucalyptus trees.
+Here Robert halted and sat down. He seemed utterly weary. Frank
+stood looking down across the valley.</p>
+<p>"Bertha Larned was my daughter," said his uncle almost
+fiercely.</p>
+<p>Frank did not turn nor start as Windham had expected. One might
+have thought he did not hear. At length, however, he said slowly,
+"I suspected that--a little. But I want to know."</p>
+<p>"I--can't tell you more," said the other brokenly.</p>
+<p>"Who--who was her mother, Uncle Bob?"</p>
+<p>"If you love her, Frank, don't ask that question."</p>
+<p>The young man snapped a dry twig from a tree and broke it with a
+sort of silent concentration into half a dozen bits. "Then--it's
+true ... the tale heard round town! That you and--"</p>
+<p>"Yes, yes," Windham interrupted, "Frank, it's true."</p>
+<p>"The--procuress?"</p>
+<p>"Frank! For God's sake!" Windham's fingers gripped his nephew's
+arm. "Don't let Maizie know. I've tried to live it down these
+twenty years...."</p>
+<p>"Damn it, do you think I'd tell Aunt Maizie?"</p>
+<p>"It's--I can't believe it yet! That you--"</p>
+<p>"Maizie wouldn't leave her mother." With a flicker of defiance
+Robert answered him. "I was young, rudderless, after my people went
+East.... A little wild, I guess."</p>
+<p>"So you sought consolation?"</p>
+<p>"Call it what you like," the other answered. "Some things are
+too strong for men. They overwhelm one--like Fate."</p>
+<p>Frank began pacing back and forth, his fingers opening and
+shutting spasmodically.</p>
+<p>"Uncle Bob," he said at length, "... after you married, what
+became--"</p>
+<p>"Her mother sent the child East--to a sister. She was well
+raised--educated. If she'd only stayed there, in that Massachusetts
+town!"</p>
+<p>"Then--Bertha didn't know?"</p>
+<p>"Not till she came to San Francisco, after her mother's death.
+She had to come to settle the estate. The mother left her
+everything--a string of tenements. She was rich."</p>
+<p>"Bertha came to you, then, I suppose."</p>
+<p>"Yes, she came to me," said Robert Windham.</p>
+<p>Suddenly, as though the memory overwhelmed him, Windham's face
+sank forward in his hands.</p>
+<p>"She was very sweet," his voice broke pitifully. "I--loved
+her."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Several days later Frank and his father paid a visit to the
+ruined city. One had to get passes in Oakland and wear them on
+one's hat. Sightseers were not admitted nor carried on ferry boats,
+trains.</p>
+<p>Already Telegraph Hill was dotted with new habitations. It was
+rumored that Andrea Sbarbora, banker and patron of the Italian
+Colony, was bringing a carload of lumber from Seattle which he
+would sell to fire sufferers on credit and at cost. The spirit of
+rehabilitation was strong.</p>
+<p>Frank was immensely cheered by it. But Francisco was overwhelmed
+by the desolation. "I am going South," he told his son. "I can't
+bear to see this. I don't even know where I am."</p>
+<p>It was true. One felt lost in those acres of ashes and debris.
+Familiar places seemed beyond memorial reconstruction, so smitten
+was the mind by this horror of leveled buildings, gutted walls and
+blackened streets.</p>
+<p>Francisco and Jeanne went to San Diego. There the former tried
+to refashion the work of many months--two hundred pages of a novel
+which the flames destroyed. Robert Windham and his family journeyed
+to Hawaii. Frank did not see his uncle after that talk in the
+Berkeley Hills.</p>
+<p>Parks and public spaces were covered with little green cottages
+in orderly rows. Refugee camps one termed then and therein lived
+20,000 of the city's homeless.</p>
+<p>Street cars were running. Passengers were carried free until the
+first of May. Patrick Calhoun was trying to convert the cable roads
+into electric lines in spite of the objection of the improvement
+clubs. He was negotiating with the Supervisors for a blanket
+franchise to electrize all of his routes.</p>
+<p>"And he'll get it, too," Aleta told Frank as they dined
+together. "It's arranged, I understand, for quarter of a million
+dollars."</p>
+<p>Frank pondered. "What'll Langdon say to that?"</p>
+<p>William H. Langdon was the district attorney, a former
+superintendent of schools, whom Ruef had put on his Union Labor
+ticket to give it tone. But Langdon had refused to "take program."
+He had even raided the "protected" gamblers, ignoring Ruef's hot
+insinuations of "ingratitude."</p>
+<p>"Oh, Ruef's too smart for Langdon," said Aleta. "Every Sunday
+night he, Schmitz and Big Jim Gallagher hold a caucus. Gallagher is
+Ruef's representative on the Board. They figure out what will occur
+at Monday's session of the Supervisors. It's all cut and
+dried."</p>
+<p>"It can't last long," Frank mused. "They're getting too much
+money. Those fellows who used to earn from $75 to $100 a month are
+spending five times that amount. Schmitz is building a palace. He
+rides around in his automobile with a liveried chauffeur. He's
+going to Europe they say."</p>
+<p>The girl glanced up at him half furtively. "Perhaps I'll go to
+Europe, too."</p>
+<p>"What?" Frank eyed her startled. "Not with--"</p>
+<p>"Yes, my friend, the Supervisor." Her tone was defiant. "Why
+shouldn't I?"</p>
+<p>"Don't--Aleta."</p>
+<p>"But, why not?"</p>
+<p>He was silent. But his eyes were on her, pleadingly.</p>
+<p>"Would you care, Frank? Would you care--at all?"</p>
+<p>"You know I would," he spoke half angrily. The girl traced
+patterns with her fork upon the table cloth.</p>
+<br>
+<a name="page374.jpg"></a>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/page374.jpg" width="85%" alt=
+""><br>
+<b>"I am going South," Francisco told his son. "I cannot bear
+this."</b></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXXII"></a>CHAPTER LXXXII</h2>
+<h3>AT BAY</h3>
+<br>
+<p>On May 21, the United Railway Company received a franchise to
+electrize any of its street-car routes, "where grades
+permitted."</p>
+<p>At once ensued a public uproar. From the press, the pulpit and
+the rostrum issued fiery accusations that the city was betrayed. In
+the midst of it Mayor Schmitz departed for Europe.</p>
+<p>Frank met Ruef at the Ferry, where the former had gone to see
+Aleta off on a road tour with her company. The little boss was
+twisting his moustache and muttering to himself.</p>
+<p>"So His Honor's off on a lark," said the newsman, meaningly.</p>
+<p>Ruef glared at him, but made no answer.</p>
+<p>Afterward Frank heard that they had quarreled. Ruef, he learned,
+had charged the mayor with ingratitude; had threatened, pleaded,
+warned--without success.</p>
+<p>Schmitz had gone; his was the dogged determination which
+easily-led men sometimes manifest at unexpected moments. One heard
+of him through the press dispatches, staying at the best hotels of
+European capitals, making speeches when he had a chance. He was
+like a boy on a holiday. But at home Ruef sensed the stirring of an
+outraged mass and trembled. He could no longer control his minions.
+And, worst of all, he could not manage Langdon. "Big Jim"
+Gallagher, now the acting mayor, was docile to a fault, however. He
+would have put his hand into the fire for this clever little man,
+whom he admired so immensely. Once they discussed the ousting of
+Langdon.</p>
+<p>"It would be quite legal," Ruef contended. "The Mayor and Board
+have power to remove a district attorney and select his
+successor."</p>
+<p>Henry Ach, advisor of the boss, looked dubious. "I'm not sure of
+that. Moreover, it's bad politics. It would be better seemingly to
+cooperate with Langdon. He has the public confidence. We've not....
+Besides, whom would we put in Langdon's place?"</p>
+<p>"Ruef," said "Big Jim," with his ready admiration. "He's the
+man."</p>
+<p>"Hm!" the little boss exclaimed, reflectively. "Well we shall
+see."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Frank liked Langdon. He was rather a slow-thinking man; not so
+clever at expedient as Ruef. But he was grounded in the Law--and
+honest. Moreover, he had courage. Powerful enemies and their
+machinations only stirred his zest.</p>
+<p>Single-handed Langdon might have been outwitted by the power and
+astuteness of his foes. But another mind, a keener one was soon to
+add its force to Langdon's. Francis J. Heney, special investigator
+of the Roosevelt government, who had unmasked and overthrown
+corruption in high places, was in town.</p>
+<p>Frank knew that he had come to San Francisco for a purpose. He
+met this nervous, wiry, sharp-eyed man in the managing editor's
+office now and again. Once he had entered rather unexpectedly upon
+a conference of Heney, former Mayor James D. Phelan, Rudolph
+Spreckels, son of the sugar nabob, and William J. Burns. Frank, who
+guessed he was intruding, made a noiseless exit; not, however, till
+he heard that there would be a thorough, secret search into the
+trolley franchise and some other actions of the Ruef
+administration. Spreckels and Phelan guaranteed to raise $100,000
+for this purpose. Burns and his detectives had for several months
+been quietly at work.</p>
+<p>On October 24 District Attorney Langdon publicly announced the
+appointment of Francis J. Heney as his assistant, stating that a
+thorough and fearless search into the actions of the city
+government would ensue.</p>
+<p>On October 25 the Supervisors met. Frank, himself, went to the
+council chamber to learn what was afoot. He suspected a sensation.
+But the Board met quietly enough at 2:30 o'clock, with Jim
+Gallagher in the chair. At 2:45 a special messenger called the
+acting Mayor to Ruef's office. Three hours later he was still
+absent from the angry and impatient Board.</p>
+<p>That some desperate move was imminent Frank realized. Here was
+Ruef between two bodeful dates. Yesterday had come the news that
+Langdon had appointed Heney--the relentless enemy of boodlers--to a
+place of power. Tomorrow would begin the impaneling of a Grand
+Jury, whose avowed purpose it was to "investigate municipal
+graft."</p>
+<p>"What would I do if I were Ruef?" Frank asked himself. But no
+answer came. He paced up and down the corridor, pondering the
+situation. At intervals he paused before the Supervisors' chamber.
+Once he found the door slightly ajar and listened shamelessly. He
+saw Big Jim Gallagher, red-faced, excited, apparently much
+flustered, reading a paper. He thought he heard Langdon's name and
+Heney's. There seemed to be dissension in the board. But before he
+learned anything definite a watchful attendant closed the portal
+with an angry slam. Frank resumed his pacing.</p>
+<p>Finally he went out for a bite to eat.</p>
+<br>
+<p>Frank returned half an hour later to find the reporters' room in
+an uproar. Big Jim Gallagher had dismissed Langdon from office with
+the corroboration of the Board of Supervisors, as a provision of
+the city ordinance permitted him to do. Ruef had been appointed
+district attorney.</p>
+<p>Langdon's forces were not disconcerted by the little boss's
+coup. Late that evening Frank advised his paper of a counterstroke.
+Heney had aroused Judge Seawell from his slumbers and obtained an
+order of the court enjoining Ruef from actual assumption of the
+title he had arrogated to himself.</p>
+<p>Judge Graham upheld it. Langdon remained the district attorney.
+Though Ruef imposed every possible obstacle, the Grand Jury was
+impaneled, November 7, and began its work of investigation with
+such startling celerity that Ruef and Schmitz faced charges of
+extortion on five counts, a week later.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXXIII"></a>CHAPTER LXXXIII</h2>
+<h3>IN THE TOILS</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Meanwhile Schmitz, who had but recently returned from Europe,
+became officially involved in the anti-Japanese agitation.</p>
+<p>"He's summoned East to see the President," said a Burns
+operative to Frank one morning as they met at Temple Israel. "Lucky
+devil, that big fellow! Here's the town at sixes and sevens about
+the 'little brown brother.' Doesn't want him with its white kids in
+the public schools. The Mikado stirs the devil of a row with
+Washington about it. And Teddy sends for 'Gene. Just his luck to
+come back a conquering hero."</p>
+<p>But Schmitz fared badly at the Capital, whence Roosevelt
+dispatched a "big stick" message to the California Legislature. At
+the same time George B. Keane, the Supervisors' clerk, and a State
+Senator as well, was working for the "Change of Venus bill," a
+measure which if passed, would have permitted Ruef to take his case
+out of the jurisdiction of Judge Dunne. But the bill was defeated.
+Once more Ruef's straining at the net of Justice had achieved no
+parting of the strands.</p>
+<p>On March 6 Stanley greeted Mayor Schmitz as he stepped from a
+train at Oakland Mole. Correspondents and reporters gathered round
+the tall, bearded figure. Schmitz looked tired, discouraged.</p>
+<p>Perfunctorily, uneasily, Schmitz answered the reporter's
+queries. He had done his level best for San Francisco. As for the
+charges pending against him, they would soon be disproved. No one
+had anything on him. All his acts were open to investigation.</p>
+<p>"Do you know that Ruef has skipped?" Frank asked.</p>
+<p>"Wh-a-a-t!" the Mayor set down his grip. He seemed struck all of
+a heap by the announcement.</p>
+<p>"Fact!" another newsman corroborated. "Abie's jumped his bond.
+He's the well-known 'fugitive from justice.'"</p>
+<p>Without a word the Mayor left them. He walked aboard the ferry
+boat alone. They saw him pacing back and forth across the forward
+deck, his long overcoat flapping in the wind, one hand holding the
+dark, soft hat down on his really magnificent head.</p>
+<p>"A ship without a rudder," said Frank. The others nodded.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Over the municipal administration was the shadow of Ruef's
+flight. The shepherd had deserted his flock. And the wolves of the
+law were howling.</p>
+<p>Frank was grateful to the Powers for this rushing pageant of
+political events. It gave him little chance to grieve. Now and then
+the tragedy of Bertha gripped him by the throat and shook him with
+its devastating loneliness. He found a certain solace in Aleta's
+company. She was always ready, glad to walk or dine with him. She
+knew his silences; she understood.</p>
+<p>But there were intervals of grief beyond all palliation; days
+when he worked blindly through a grist of tasks that seemed unreal.
+And at night he sought his room, to sit in darkness, suffering
+dumbly through the hours. Sometimes Dawn would find him thus.</p>
+<p>Robert Windham and his family had returned from the Hawaiian
+Islands. They had found a house in Berkeley; Windham opened offices
+on Fillmore street. Robert and his nephew visited occasionally a
+graveyard in the western part of town. The older man brought
+flowers and his tears fell frankly on a mound that was more recent
+than its neighbors. But Stanley did not join in these
+devotions.</p>
+<p>"She is not here," he said one day. "You know that, Uncle
+Robert."</p>
+<p>"She's up above," returned the other, brokenly. "My poor,
+wronged child!"</p>
+<p>Frank stared at him a moment. "Do you believe in the
+conventional Heaven?"</p>
+<p>"Why--er--yes," said Windham, startled. "Don't you, Frank?"</p>
+<p>"No," said Stanley, doggedly. "Not in that ... nor in a God that
+lets men suffer and be tempted into wrongs they can't resist ...
+makes them suffer for it."</p>
+<p>"What do you mean? Are you an atheist?" asked Windham,
+horrified.</p>
+<p>"No ... but I believe that God is Good. And knows no evil.
+Sometimes in the night when I've sat thinking, Bertha seems to come
+to me; tells me things I can't quite understand. Wonderful things,
+Uncle Robert."</p>
+<p>The other regarded him silently, curiously. He seemed at a
+loss.</p>
+<p>"I've learned to judge men with less harshness," Frank spoke on.
+"Ruef and Schmitz, for instance.... Every now and then I see the
+Mayor pacing on the ferryboat. It's rather pathetic, Uncle Robert.
+Did God raise him up from obscurity just to torture him? He's had
+wealth and honor--adoration from the people. Now he's facing
+prison. And those poor devils of Supervisors; they've known luxury,
+power. Now they're huddled like a pack of frightened sheep;
+everybody thinks they're guilty. Ruef's forsaken them. Ruef, with
+his big dream shattered, fleeing from the law...."</p>
+<p>He faced his uncle fiercely, questioning. "Is that God's work?
+And Bertha's body lying there, because of the sins of her
+forebears! Forgive me, Uncle Robert. I'm just thinking aloud."</p>
+<p>Windham placed a hand upon his nephew's shoulder. "I'm afraid I
+can't answer you, Frank," he said slowly. "You're a young man.
+You'll forget. The world goes on. And our griefs do not matter. We
+fall and we get up again ... just as Ruef and the others will."</p>
+<p>"Do you suppose they'll catch him--Ruef, I mean?"</p>
+<p>"Not if the big fellows can prevent it. If he's caught there'll
+be the deuce to pay. Our Pillars of Finance will topple.... No, I
+think Ruef is safe."</p>
+<p>"I don't quite understand," said Stanley.</p>
+<p>"Ruef, himself, is nothing; a political boss, a solicitor of
+bribes. But our corporation heads. The town will shake when they're
+accused, perhaps indicted. I know what's been going on. We're close
+to scandals that'll echo round the world."</p>
+<p>Frank looked at his uncle wonderingly. Windham was a corporation
+lawyer. Doubtless he knew. Silently the two men made their way out
+of the graveyard. Frank determined to ride down town with his
+uncle, and then telephone to Aleta. He hadn't seen her for a
+week.</p>
+<p>As the car passed the Call building they noted a crowd at Third
+and Market streets, reading a bulletin. People seemed excited.
+Frank jumped from the moving car and elbowed his way forward. In
+the newspaper window was a sheet of yellow paper inscribed in large
+script: "BURNS ARRESTS RUEF AT THE TROCADERO ROADHOUSE."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXXIV"></a>CHAPTER LXXXIV</h2>
+<h3>THE NET CLOSES</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Frank discussed the situation with Aleta one evening after
+Ruef's capture. Her friend, the Supervisor, had brought news of the
+alarm.</p>
+<p>"He says no one of them will trust the other; they're afraid of
+Gallagher; think he'll turn State's evidence, or whatever you call
+it. 'Squeal,' was what he said."</p>
+<p>"Burns and Heney must be putting on the screws," commented
+Frank.</p>
+<p>"Frank," Aleta laid a hand impulsively upon his arm, "I don't
+suppose there's any way to save this man ... I--oh, Frank, it would
+be awful if he went to prison."</p>
+<p>He stared at her. "What do you mean, Aleta?"</p>
+<p>"I mean," she answered, "that he's done things for me ...
+because he loves me ... hopes to win me. He's sincere in that....
+Oh, can't you see how it would hurt if--"</p>
+<p>"If he gets caught--stealing," Frank spoke harshly. "Well, you
+should have thought of that before, my dear."</p>
+<p>A touch of anger tinctured the appeal with which her eyes met
+his. "One doesn't always reason when the heart is sore. When one is
+bitter with--well--yearning."</p>
+<p>He did not answer. He was rather startled by that look. Finally
+she said, more gently: "Frank, you'll help him if you can--I know."
+He nodded.</p>
+<p>It was late. Aleta had to hurry to the theatre. Frank left her
+there and walked down Sutter street.</p>
+<p>He turned south toward Heney's office. It was in a little house
+between Geary and O'Farrell, up a short flight of stairs. Above
+were the living quarters of Heney and his companion, half clerk,
+half bodyguard.</p>
+<p>There was a light in the office, but the shades of the
+bay-window were tightly drawn. Frank rang the bell, which was not
+immediately answered. Finally the bodyguard came to the door. "Mr.
+Heney's very busy, very busy." He seemed tremendously excited.</p>
+<p>"Very well," said Frank; "I'll come tomorrow."</p>
+<p>"We'll have big news for you," the man announced. He shut the
+door hastily and double-locked it.</p>
+<p>Frank decided to remain in the neighborhood. He might learn
+something. The morning papers had been getting the best of it
+recently in the way of news.</p>
+<p>It proved a tiresome vigil. And the night was chilly. Frank
+began to walk briskly up and down the block. A dozen times he did
+this without result. Then the sudden rumble of a motor car spun him
+about. He saw two men hasten down the steps of Heney's office,
+almost leap into the car. Instantly it drove off. Frank, who
+followed to the corner, saw it traveling at high speed toward
+Fillmore street. He looked about for a motor cab in which to
+follow. There was none in sight. Reluctantly he turned toward home.
+He had been outwitted, doubtless by a watcher. But not completely.
+For he was morally certain that one of the men who left Heney's
+office was Big Jim Gallagher. That visit was significant. From his
+hotel Frank tried to locate the editor of his paper by telephone.
+He was not successful. He went to bed, disgusted, after leaving a
+daylight call.</p>
+<p>It was still dark when he dressed the next morning, the previous
+evening's events fresh in his thought.</p>
+<p>He had scarcely reached the street before a newsboy thrust a
+morning paper toward him. Frank saw that the upper half of the
+front page was covered with large black headlines. He snatched it,
+tossing the boy a "two-bit piece," and, without waiting or thinking
+of the change, became absorbed in the startling information it
+conveyed.</p>
+<p>Sixteen out of the eighteen Supervisors had confessed to taking
+bribes from half a dozen corporations. Wholesale indictments would
+follow, it was stated, involving the heads of public service
+companies--men of unlimited means, national influence. Many names
+were more than hinted at.</p>
+<p>Ruef, according to these confessions, had been the arch-plotter.
+He had received the funds that corrupted an entire city government.
+Gallagher had been the go-between, receiving a part of the "graft
+funds" to be divided among his fellow Supervisors.</p>
+<p>Each of the crooked sixteen had been guaranteed immunity from
+imprisonment in consideration of their testimony.</p>
+<p>"Well, that saves Aleta's friend, at any rate," thought Frank.
+He recalled his uncle's prediction that Ruef's capture would result
+in extraordinary revelations. But it had not been Ruef, after all,
+who "spilled the beans." Ruef might confess later. They would need
+his testimony to make the case complete.</p>
+<p>As a matter of fact, Ruef had already begun negotiations with
+Langdon and Heney looking toward a confession.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>The Grand Jury acted immediately upon the wholesale confessions
+of Ruef's Supervisors. They summoned before them the heads of many
+corporations, uncovering bribery so vast and open that they were
+astounded. They found that $200,000 had been paid for the trolley
+franchise and enormous sums for permits to raise gas rates, for
+telephone franchises, for prize-fight privileges and in connection
+with a realty transaction.</p>
+<p>The trolley bribe funds had been carried in a shirt box to Ruef
+by the company's attorney. Other transactions had been more or less
+"covered." But all were plain enough for instant recognition. San
+Francisco, which had suspected Ruef and his Supervisors with the
+easy tolerance of a people calloused to betrayal, was aroused by
+the insolent audacity of these transactions. It demanded blood.</p>
+<p>And Heney was prepared to furnish sanguine vengeance. He was
+after the "higher-ups," he stated. Like a passionate evangel of
+Mosaic law, he set out to secure it. Louis Glass, acting president
+of the telephone company, was indicted on a charge of felony, which
+made a great hallabaloo, for he was a personable man, a clubman,
+popular and generally esteemed.</p>
+<p>A subtle change--the primary index of that opposition which was
+to develop into a stupendous force--was noted by the prosecution.
+Heney and Langdon had been welcomed hitherto in San Francisco's
+fashionable clubs. Men of wealth and standing had been wont to
+greet them as they lunched there, commending their course, assuring
+them of cooperation.</p>
+<p>But after the telephone indictment there came a cooling of the
+atmosphere. Glass seemed more popular than ever. Langdon and Heney
+were often ignored. People failed to recognize them on the street.
+Even Spreckels and Phelan, despite their wealth and long
+established standing, suffered certain social ostracisms.</p>
+<p>Wealthy evildoers found themselves as definitely threatened by
+the law as were the Supervisors. But wealth is made of sterner
+stuff. It did not cringe nor huddle; could not seek immunity
+through the confessional. Famous lawyers found themselves in high
+demand. From New York, where he had fought a winning fight for
+Harry Thaw, came Delphin Delmas. T.C. Coogan, another famous
+pleader, entered the lists against Heney in defense of Glass.</p>
+<p>Meanwhile the drawing of jurors for Ruef's trial progressed,
+inexorably.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXXV"></a>CHAPTER LXXXV</h2>
+<h3>THE SEVEN PLAGUES</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Several weeks passed. Politics were in a hectic state, and
+people grumbled. Frank discussed the situation with his Uncle
+Robert. "Why don't they oust these grafters from office?" he
+asked.</p>
+<p>Windham smiled. "Because they daren't, Frank," he answered. "If
+the prosecution forced the Supervisors to resign, which would be
+easy enough, do you know what would happen?"</p>
+<p>"Why, they'd fill their posts with better men, of course."</p>
+<p>"Not so fast, my boy. The Mayor has the power to fill all
+vacancies due to resignations. Don't you see what would happen?
+Schmitz could select another board over whom the prosecution would
+hold no power. Then, if necessary, he'd resign and his new board
+would fill the Mayor's chair with some one whom Ruef or the Mayor
+could trust. Then the city government would once more be
+independent of the law."</p>
+<p>"Lord! What a tangle," Frank ruminated. "How will they
+straighten it out?"</p>
+<p>"Remove the Mayor--if they can convict him of felony."</p>
+<p>"Suppose they do. What then?"</p>
+<p>"The prosecution forces can then use their power over the
+boodlers--force them to appoint a Mayor who's to Langdon's liking.
+Afterward they'll force the Supervisors to resign and the new Mayor
+will put decent people in their stead."</p>
+<p>"Justice!" apostrophized Frank, "thy name is Red Tape!"</p>
+<p>Heney alone was to enter the lists against Delmas and Coogan in
+the trial of Louis Glass. The charge was bribing Supervisor Boxton
+to vote against the Home telephone franchise.</p>
+<p>Frank had seen Glass at the Press Club, apparently a sound and
+honest citizen. A little doubt crept into Frank's mind. If men like
+that could stoop to the bribing of Supervisors, what was American
+civilization coming to?</p>
+<p>He looked in at the Ruef trial to see if anything had happened.
+For the past two months there had been nothing but technical
+squabbles, interminable hitches and delays.</p>
+<p>Ruef was conferring with his attorneys. All at once he stepped
+forward, holding a paper in his hand. Tears were streaming down his
+face. He began to read in sobbing, broken accents.</p>
+<p>The crowd was so thick that Frank could not get close enough to
+hear Ruef's words. It seemed a confession or condonation. Scattered
+fragments reached Frank's ears. Then the judge's question, clearly
+heard, "What is your plea?"</p>
+<p>"Guilty!" Ruef returned.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Ruef's confession served to widen the breach between Class and
+Mass. He implicated many corporation heads and social leaders in a
+sorry tangle of wrongdoing. Other situations added fuel to the
+flame of economic war. The strike of the telephone girls had
+popular support, a sympathy much strengthened by the charges of
+bribery pending against telephone officials.</p>
+<br>
+<a name="page388.jpg"></a>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/page388.jpg" width="85%" alt=
+""><br>
+<b>All at once he stepped forward.... Tears were streaming down his
+face. Then the judge's question, clearly heard, "What is your
+plea?" "Guilty!" Ruef returned.</b></p>
+<br>
+<p>Ten thousand ironworkers were on strike at a time when their
+service was imperative, for San Francisco was rebuilding
+feverishly. Capital made telling use of this to bolster its
+impaired position in the public mind. While "pot called kettle
+black," the city suffered. The visitation of some strange disease,
+which certain physicians hastened to classify as bubonic plague,
+very nearly brought the untold evils of a quarantine. A famous
+sanitarian from the East decided it was due to rats. He came and
+slew his hundred-thousands of the rodents. Meanwhile the malady had
+ceased. But there were other troubles.</p>
+<p>Fire had destroyed the deeds and titles stored in the Recorder's
+office, as well as other records. Great confusion came with
+property transfer and business contracts. But, worst of all,
+perhaps, was the street car strike.</p>
+<p>"It seems as though the Seven Plagues of Egypt were being
+repeated," remarked Frank to his uncle as they lunched together.
+They had come to be rather good companions, with the memory of
+Bertha between them. For Frank, within the past twelve months, had
+passed through much illuminating experience.</p>
+<p>Robert Windham, too, was a changed man. He cared less for money.
+Frank knew that he had declined big fees to defend some of the
+"higher ups" against impending charges of the graft prosecution.
+Windham smiled as he answered Frank's comment about the Seven
+Plagues.</p>
+<p>"We'll come out of it with flying colors, my boy. A city is a
+great composite heart that keeps beating, sometimes fast, sometimes
+slow, but the healthy blood rules in the main; it conquers all
+passing distempers."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Market street was queer and unnatural without its rushing
+trolley cars. All sorts of horse-drawn vehicles rattled up and
+down, carrying passengers to and from the ferry. Many of the
+strikers were acting as Jehus of improvised stages. Autotrucks,
+too, were impressed into service. They rumbled along, criss-crossed
+with "circus seats," always crowded.</p>
+<p>Frank made his way northward and east through the ruins. Here
+and there little shops had opened; eating houses for the army of
+rehabilitation. They seemed to Frank symbols of renewed life in the
+blackened waste, like tender, green shoots in a flame-ravaged
+forest. Sightseers were beginning to swarm through the burned
+district, seeking relics.</p>
+<p>A large touring car honked raucously almost in Frank's ear as he
+was crossing Sutter street, and he sprinted out of its lordly
+course, turning just in time to see the occupant of the back seat,
+a large man, rather handsome, in a hard, iron-willed way. He sat
+stiffly erect, unbending and aloof, with a kind of arrogance which
+just escaped being splendid. This was Patrick Calhoun, president of
+the United Railroads, who had sworn to break the Carmen's Union. It
+was said that Calhoun had sworn, though less loudly, to break the
+graft prosecution as well.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>On Montgomery street several financial institutions were doing
+business in reclaimed ruins. One of these was the California Safe
+Deposit and Trust Company, which had made spectacular history of
+late. It was said that spiritualism entered into its affairs. Frank
+had been working on the story, which promised a sensation.</p>
+<p>As he neared the corner of California and Montgomery streets,
+where the crumbled bank walls had been transformed into a temporary
+habitation, he saw a crowd evidently pressing toward it. The bank
+doors were closed, though it was not yet three o'clock. Now and
+then people broke from the throng and wandered disconsolately away.
+One of these, a gray-haired woman, came in Frank's direction. He
+asked her what was wrong.</p>
+<p>"They're busted ... and they've got me money," she wailed.</p>
+<p>Hastily Frank verified her statement. Then he hurried to the
+office, found his notes and for an hour wrote steadily, absorbedly
+a spectacular tale of superstition, extravagance and financial
+chaos. As he turned in his copy the editor handed him a slip of
+paper on which was written: "Call Aleta Boice at once." He sought a
+telephone, but there was no response. He tried again, but vainly. A
+third attempt, however, and Aleta's voice, half frantic, answered
+his.</p>
+<p>"He's killed himself," she cried. "Oh, Frank, I don't know what
+to do."</p>
+<p>"He? Who?" Frank asked startled.</p>
+<p>"Frank, you know! The man who wanted me to--"</p>
+<p>"Do you mean the Supervisor?"</p>
+<p>"Yes.... They say it was an accident. But I know better. He lost
+his money in the safe deposit failure.... Oh, Frank, please come to
+me, quick."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXXVI"></a>CHAPTER LXXXVI</h2>
+<h3>A NEW CITY GOVERNMENT</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Frank found Aleta, dry-eyed, frantic, pacing up and down her
+little sitting room which always looked so quaintly attractive with
+its jumble of paintings and bric-a-brac, its distinctive furniture
+and draperies--all symbolic of the helter-skelter artistry which
+was a part of Aleta's nature. She took Frank's hand and clung to
+it.</p>
+<p>"I'm so glad you've come," she whispered. "I'm so glad you've
+come."</p>
+<p>It was a little time ere she could tell him of the tragedy. The
+man had been run over, quickly killed. Witnesses had seen him
+stagger, fall directly in the path of an advancing car. A doctor
+called it apoplexy.</p>
+<p>"But I know better," sobbed Aleta, for the tears had come by
+now. "He never was sick in his life. He thought he'd lost me when
+the money went ... his money in the California Safe Deposit
+Company."</p>
+<p>Frank took a seat beside her on the couch, whose flaming, joyous
+colors seemed a mockery just then. "Aleta," he said, "I wish I
+could help you. I wish I knew how, but I don't."</p>
+<p>She lifted her tear-stained eyes to his with a curious
+bitterness. "No ... you don't. But thank you. Just your coming's
+helped me, Frank. I'm better. Go--and let me think things over."
+She tried to smile, but the tears came.</p>
+<p>"Life's a hideous puzzle. Perhaps if I'd gone with him, all
+would have come right.... I'd have made him happy."</p>
+<p>"But what about yourself?"</p>
+<p>Again that bitter, enigmatic look came to her eyes. "I guess ...
+that doesn't matter, Frank."</p>
+<p>He left her, a queer ache in his heart. Was she right about the
+man's committing suicide. Poor devil! He had stolen for a woman.
+Others had filched his plunder. Then God had taken his misguided
+life.</p>
+<p>But had He? Was God a murderer? A passive conniver at theft? No,
+that were blasphemy! Yet, if He <i>permitted</i> such things--? No,
+that couldn't be, either. It was all an abominable enigma, as Aleta
+said. Unless--the thought came startlingly--it were all a dream, a
+nightmare. Thus Kant, the great philosopher, believed. Obsessed by
+the idea, he paused before a book-store. Its show window
+prominently displayed Francisco Stanley's latest novel.</p>
+<p>Frank missed the mellow wisdom of his father's counsel
+seriously. He entered the shop, found a volume of Kant and scanned
+it for some moments till he read:</p>
+<p>"This world's life is only an appearance, a sensuous image of
+the pure spiritual life, and the whole of Sense is only a picture
+swimming before our present knowing faculty like a dream and having
+no reality in itself."</p>
+<p>Acting upon a strange impulse, he bought the book, marked the
+passage and ordered it sent to Aleta.</p>
+<p>A week after Ruef's confession the trial of Mayor Schmitz began.
+It dragged through the usual delays which clever lawyers can exact
+by legal technicality. Judge Dunne, sitting in the auditorium of
+the Bush Street synagogue, between the six-tinned ceremonial
+candlesticks and in front of the Mosiac tablets of Hebraic law,
+dispensed modern justice.</p>
+<p>Meanwhile the Committee of Seven sprang suddenly into being. A
+morning paper announced that Schmitz had handed the reins of the
+city over to a septette of prominent citizens. Governor Gillette
+lauded this action. But Rudolph Spreckels disowned the Committee.
+Langdon and Heney were suspicious of its purpose. So the Committee
+of Seven resigned.</p>
+<p>At this juncture the Schmitz trial ended in conviction of the
+Mayor which was tantamount to his removal from office. It left a
+vacancy which, nominally, the Supervisors had the power to fill.
+But they were under Langdon's orders. Actually, therefore, the
+District Attorney found himself confronted by the task of naming a
+new mayor.</p>
+<p>Unexpectedly the man was found in Edward Robeson Taylor, doctor
+of medicine and law, poet and Greek scholar. The selection was
+hailed with relief. Frank hastened to the Taylor home, a trim,
+white dwelling on California street near Webster. He found a
+genial, curly-haired old gentleman sitting in a room about whose
+walls were thousands of books. He was reading Epictetus.</p>
+<p>Stanley found the new mayor likeable and friendly. He seemed a
+man of simple thought. Frank wondered how he would endure the
+roiling passions of this city's politics. Dr. Taylor seemed
+undaunted by the prospect, though.</p>
+<p>Without delay he was elected by the Supervisors. Then began the
+farcical procedure of their resignations. One by one the new chief
+named good citizens as their successors.</p>
+<p>But the real fight was now beginning. Halsey's testimony had not
+incriminated Glass beyond a peradventure. There remained a shade of
+doubt that he had authorized the outlay of a certain fund for the
+purposes of bribery. The jury disagreed. The Prosecution's first
+battle against the "higher-ups" had brought no victory.</p>
+<p>Ruef was failing Heney as a witness for the people. After months
+of bargaining the special prosecutor withdrew his tacit offer of
+immunity. Heney's patience with the wily little Boss, who knew no
+end of legal subterfuge, was suddenly exhausted. Frank heard that
+Ruef was to be tried on one of the three hundred odd indictments
+found against him. Schmitz had been sentenced to five years in San
+Quentin. He had appealed.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Several times Frank tried to reach Aleta on the telephone. But
+she did not respond to calls, a fact which he attributed to
+disorganized service. But presently there came a letter from Camp
+Curry in the Yosemite Valley.</p>
+<p>"I am here among the everlasting pines and cliffs," she wrote,
+"thinking it all out. I thank you for the book, which has helped
+me. If only we might waken from our 'dream'! But here one is nearer
+to God. It is very quiet and the birds sing always in the golden
+sunshine.</p>
+<p>"I shall come back saner, happier, to face the world.... Perhaps
+I can forget myself in service, I think I shall try settlement
+work.</p>
+<p>"Meanwhile I am trying not to think of what has happened ...
+what can never happen. I am reading and painting. Yesterday a dog
+came up and licked my hand. I cried a little after that, I don't
+know why."</p>
+<p>In his room that evening, Frank re-read the letter. It brought a
+lump to his throat.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXXVII"></a>CHAPTER LXXXVII</h2>
+<h3>NORAH FINDS OUT</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Very soon after the appointment of Mayor Taylor, the second
+trial of Louis Glass ended in his conviction. He was remanded to
+the county jail awaiting an appeal. The trial of an official of the
+United Railways began. Meanwhile the politicians rallied for
+election.</p>
+<p>Schmitz had been elected at the end of 1905. His term, which Dr.
+Taylor was completing, would be terminated with the closing of the
+present year. And now the Graft Prosecution was to learn by public
+vote how many of the people stood behind it.</p>
+<p>Union Labor, ousted and discredited by venal representatives,
+was not officially in favor of the Taylor-Langdon slate. P.H.
+McCarthy, labor leader and head of the Building Trades Council, was
+Labor's nominee for Mayor.</p>
+<p>Frank met McCarthy now and then. He posed as "a plain, blunt
+man," but back of the forthright handgrip, the bluff directness of
+manner, Frank scented a massive and wily self-interest. He
+respected the man for his power, his crude but undeniable executive
+talents.</p>
+<p>The two opponents for the Mayoralty were keenly contrasted.
+Taylor was quiet, suavely cultured, widely read but rather passive.
+Some said he lacked initiative.</p>
+<p>Frank MacGowan was Langdon's foeman in the struggle for the
+district attorneyship. Little could be said for or against him. A
+lawyer of good reputation who had made his way upward by merit and
+push, he had done nothing big. He was charged with no wrong.</p>
+<p>The "dark horse" was Daniel Ryan.</p>
+<p>Ryan was a young Irishman, that fine type of political leader
+who approximates what has sometimes been called a practical
+idealist. He had set out to reform the Republican Party and
+achieved a certain measure of success, for he had beaten the Herrin
+or Railroad forces at the Republican Convention. Ryan was avowedly
+pro-prosecution. It was believed that he would deliver his party's
+nomination to Taylor and Langdon.</p>
+<p>But he astonished San Francisco voters by becoming a candidate
+for mayor.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Aleta had returned from Camp Curry. There was a certain quiet in
+her eyes, a greater self-control, a better facing of Life's
+problems. They spoke of Kant and his philosophy. "The Nightmare is
+less turbulent," she said.</p>
+<p>One evening at her apartment Frank met a young woman named
+France, a fragile, fine-haired, dreamy sort of girl, and he was not
+surprised to learn that she wrote poetry.</p>
+<p>"Norah's been working as a telephone operator," explained Aleta.
+"She's written a story about it--the working girl's wrongs.... Oh,
+not the ordinary wail-and-whine," she added hastily. "It's real
+meat. I've read it. The Saturday Magazine's considering it."</p>
+<p>Miss France smiled deprecatingly. "I have high hopes," she said.
+"I need the money."</p>
+<p>"It will give you prestige, too," Frank told her, but she shook
+her head.</p>
+<p>"Norah hasn't signed her name to it," Aleta disapproved. "Just
+because a friend, a well known writer in Carmel, has fixed it up
+for her a little."</p>
+<p>"It doesn't seem like mine," the girl remarked. Aleta rose.
+"This is election night," she said; "let's go down and watch the
+returns."</p>
+<p>They did this, standing on the fringe of a crowd that thronged
+about the newspaper offices, watching, eager, but patient, the
+figures which were flashed on a screen.</p>
+<p>The crowd was less demonstrative than is usual on such
+occasions. A feeling of anxiety prevailed, a consciousness of vital
+issues endangered and put to the test. Toward midnight the crowd
+grew thicker. But it was more joyous now. Taylor and Langdon were
+leading. It became evident that they must win.</p>
+<p>Suddenly the restless stillness of the throng was broken by
+spontaneous cheering. It was impressive, overwhelming, like a great
+burst of relieved emotion.</p>
+<p>Norah France caught Frank's arm as the celebrants eddied round
+them. The press was disbanding with an almost violent haste.
+"Where's Aleta?" asked the girl.</p>
+<p>Frank searched amid the human eddies, but in vain. "She got
+separated from us somehow," he said rather helplessly. They
+searched farther, without result. Aleta doubtless had gone
+home.</p>
+<p>"I wonder if you'd take me somewhere ... for a cup of coffee,"
+said Miss France. The hand upon his arm grew heavy. "I'm a little
+faint."</p>
+<p>"Surely." He suggested a popular cafe, but she shook her head.
+"Just some quiet little place ... a 'chop house.' That's what the
+switch-girls call them."</p>
+<p>So they entered a pair of swinging doors inscribed "Ladies" on
+one side and "Gents" on the other. Miss France laughingly insisted
+that they pass each on the proper side of this divided portal. She
+was a creature of swift moods; one moment feverishly gay, the next
+brooding, with a penchant for satire. He wondered how she endured
+the hard work of a telephone switch-operator. But one felt that
+whatever she willed she would do. Eagerly she sipped her steaming
+coffee from a heavy crockery cup, nibbling at a bit of French
+bread. Then she said to him so suddenly that he almost sprang out
+of his chair.</p>
+<p>"Do you know that Aleta Boice loves you?"</p>
+<p>He looked at her annoyed and disturbed by the question.</p>
+<p>"No, I don't," he answered slowly. "Nor do I understand just
+what you're driving at, Miss France."</p>
+<p>"If you'll forgive me," her eyes were upon him, "I am driving at
+masculine obtuseness ... and Aleta's happiness."</p>
+<p>"Then you're wasting your time," he spoke sharply. "Aleta loves
+another.... She's told me so."</p>
+<p>"Did she tell you his name?"</p>
+<p>"No, some prig of a professor, probably.... Thinks he's 'not her
+kind.'"</p>
+<p>"Yes ... let's have another cup of coffee. Yes, Aleta told me
+that."</p>
+<p>Frank signalled to the waiter. "She's anybody's kind," he said,
+forcibly.</p>
+<p>"But not yours, Mr. Stanley."</p>
+<p>"Mine? Why not?"</p>
+<p>"Because you don't love her." Norah's tone was sad, half bitter.
+"Will you forgive me? I'm sorry I provoked you.... But I had to
+know.... Aleta's such a dear. She's been so good to me."</p>
+<p>The Christmas holidays brought handsome stock displays to all
+the stores. San Francisco was still flush with insurance money but
+there was a pinch of poverty in certain quarters. The Refugee Camps
+had been cleared, public parks and squares restored to their normal
+state.</p>
+<p>Langdon and Heney worked on. Another jury brought a verdict of
+"not guilty" at the second trial of a trolley-bribe defendant. Some
+of the newspapers had changed by almost imperceptible degrees, were
+veering toward the cause of the defense.</p>
+<p>Then, like a thunderbolt, in January, 1908, came news that the
+Appellate Court had set aside the conviction of Ruef and Schmitz.
+Technical errors were assigned as the cause of this decision. The
+people gasped. But some of the newspapers defended the Appellate
+Judges' decree.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER LXXXVIII</h2>
+<h3>THE SHOOTING OF HENEY</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Heney and Langdon, who had had, perhaps, some inkling of an
+adverse decision, went grimly on. Enemies of Prosecution, backed by
+an enormous fund, were setting innumerable obstacles in their way.
+Witnesses disappeared or changed their testimony. Jurors showed
+evidence of having been tampered with. Through a subsidized press
+an active propaganda of Innuendo and Slander was begun.</p>
+<p>Calhoun's trial still loomed vaguely in the distance. Heney,
+overworked and harassed in a multitude of ways--keyed to a battle
+with ruffians, gun-men and shysters as well as the ablest exponents
+of law, developed a nervousness of manner, a bitterness of mind
+which sometimes led him to extremes.</p>
+<p>"He isn't sleeping well," his faithful bodyguard confided to
+Frank one afternoon when they met on Van Ness avenue. "He comes
+down in the morning trying to smile but I know he feels as though
+he'd like to bite my head off. I can see it in his eyes. He needs a
+rest."</p>
+<p>"Mr. Calhoun evidently thinks so, too," retorted Stanley. "The
+Honorable Pat is trying to retire him."</p>
+<p>"He'll never succeed," said the other explosively. "Frank
+Heney's not that kind. He'll fight on till he drops.... But I hate
+to see those boughten lawyers ragging him in court."</p>
+<p>Langdon, more phlegmatic of temperament, stood the gaff with
+less apparent friction. Hiram Johnson gave aid now and then which
+was always of value. There was a dauntless quality about the man, a
+rugged double-fisted force which made him feared by his
+opponents.</p>
+<p>Frank Stanley looked in at the second Ruef trial. He found it a
+kaleidoscope of dramatic and tragic events. Heney, who had been the
+target for a volley of insinuations from Ruef's attorneys, was
+nervous and distraught. Several times he had been goaded into
+altercation; had struck back with a bitterness that showed his
+mounting anger. Stanley noted that he was "on edge," and rather
+looked for "fireworks," as the reporters called these verbal duels
+of the Prosecution trials. But he was astonished to see Heney turn
+upon an unoffending juryman in sudden fury. The man had a fat,
+good-natured Teuton face with small eyes and a heavy manner. His
+name was Morris Haas. He had asked to be excused but the judge had
+not granted his plea.</p>
+<p>Now he seemed to cower in exaggerated fright before the
+Prosecutor's pointed finger. A little hush ensued. A tense dramatic
+pause. Then Heney branded Haas before the court-room as a former
+convict.</p>
+<p>The man broke down utterly. Many years before he had served a
+short term in prison. After his release he had married, raised a
+family, "lived a respectable life," as he pleaded in hysterical
+extenuation. He kept a grocery store.</p>
+<p>Haas stumbled from the court-room and Frank followed him. He
+could not help but feel a certain pity for the poor wretch, wailing
+brokenly that he was "ruined." He could never face his friends
+again. His customers would leave him. Frank learned the details of
+his ancient crime; he also ascertained that Haas had lived rightly
+since. The incident rankled. He wrote a guarded story of the
+affair. But he did not mention one episode of Haas' exposure. As
+the man staggered out Frank had heard another whisper
+sympathetically, "I would kill the man who did that to me."</p>
+<p>Justice often has its cruel, relentless aspects. Haas, with his
+weak, heavy face, stayed in Stanley's memory. An ordinary man might
+have tried again and won. But Haas was drunken with self-pity and
+the melancholy of his race. He would brood and suffer. Frank felt
+sorry for the man, and, somehow, vaguely apprehensive.</p>
+<p>Ruef's trial ended in a disagreement of the jury. It was a
+serious blow. Most of the San Francisco papers heaped abuse upon
+the Prosecution, its attorneys and its judges.</p>
+<p>Matters dragged along until the 13th of November. Gallagher was
+on the witness stand. He testified with the listlessness of many
+repetitions to the sordid facts of San Francisco's betrayal by
+venal public servants. It was all more or less perfunctory.
+Everyone had heard the tale from one to half a dozen times.</p>
+<p>Heney was at the attorneys' table talking animatedly with an
+assistant. The jury had left the room and Gallagher stepped down
+from the stand to have a word with the prosecutor. A few feet away
+was Heney's bodyguard lolling, plainly bored by the testimony.
+There was the usual buzz of talk which marks a lull in court
+proceedings.</p>
+<p>Into this scene came with covert tread a wild, dramatic figure.
+No one noted his approach. Morris Haas, glittering of eye,
+dishevelled, mad with loss of sleep and brooding, had crept into
+the court-room unheeded. He approached the attorneys' table
+stealthily.</p>
+<p>All at once Frank saw him standing within a foot of Heney.
+Something glittered in his outstretched hand. Frank shouted, but
+his warning lost itself in a wild cry of revengeful accusation.
+There was a sharp report; smoke rose. An acrid smell of exploded
+powder hung upon the air. Heney, with a cry, fell backward. Blood
+spurted from his neck.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Once more the city was afire with men's passions. Haas was
+rushed to the county jail and Heney to a hospital, where it was
+found, amid great popular rejoicing, that the wound was not a fatal
+one. Had it been otherwise no human power could have protected Haas
+from lynching.</p>
+<p>A great mass meeting was held. Langdon, Phelan, Mayor Taylor
+pleaded for order. "Let us see to it," said the last, "that no
+matter who else breaks the law, we shall uphold it." This became
+the keynote of the meeting. Rudolph Spreckels, who arrived late,
+was greeted with tumultuous cheering.</p>
+<p>Frank and Aleta were impressed by the spontaneity of the huge
+popular turnout. "It means," said the girl, as they made their
+exit, "that San Francisco is again aroused to its danger. What a
+great, good natured, easy-going body of men and women this town is!
+We feed on novelty and are easily wearied. That's why so many have
+back-slid who were strong for the Prosecution at first."</p>
+<p>"Yes, you're right," answered Frank. "We alternate between
+spasms of Virtue and comfortable inertias of Don't-care-a-Damn!
+That's San Francisco!"</p>
+<p>"The Good Gray City," he added after a little silence. "We love
+it in spite of its faults and upheavals, don't we, Aleta?"</p>
+<p>"Perhaps because of them." She squeezed his arm. For a time they
+walked on without speaking. "How is your settlement work
+progressing?" he asked at length.</p>
+<p>But she did not answer, for a shrieking newsie thrust a paper in
+her hand. "Buy an extra, lady," he importuned her. "All about
+Morris Haas' suicide!"</p>
+<p>She tossed him a coin and he rushed off, shrilling his tragic
+revelation. Huge black headlines announced that Heney's assailant
+had shot himself to death in his cell.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXXIX"></a>CHAPTER LXXXIX</h2>
+<h3>DEFEAT OF THE PROSECUTION</h3>
+<br>
+<p>While Heney lay upon the operating table of a San Francisco
+hospital, three prominent attorneys volunteered to take his place.
+They were Hiram Johnson, Matt I. Sullivan and J.J. Dwyer. Ruef's
+trial went on with renewed vigor three days after the attempted
+killing, though the defendant's attorneys exhausted every expedient
+for delay. It was a case so thorough and complete that nothing
+could save the prisoner. He was found guilty of bribing a
+Supervisor in the overhead trolley transaction and sentenced to
+serve fourteen years in San Quentin penitentiary.</p>
+<p>Frank was in the court-room when Ruef's sentence was imposed.
+The Little Boss seemed oddly aged and nerveless; the old look of
+power was gone from his eyes. Frank recalled Ruef's plan of a
+political Utopia. The man had started with a golden dream, a genius
+for organization which might have achieved great things. But his
+lower self had conquered. He had sold his dream for gold. And
+retribution was upon him.</p>
+<p>Frank thought of Patrick Calhoun, large, blustering, arrogant
+with the pride of an old Southern family; the power of limitless
+wealth between him and punishment; a masterful figure who had
+broken a labor union and who scoffed at Law. And Eugene Schmitz,
+once happy as a fiddler. Schmitz was trying to face it out in the
+community. Frank could not tell if that was courage or a sort of
+impudence.</p>
+<p>During the holidays Frank visited his parents in San Diego. His
+granduncle, Benito Windham, had died abroad. And his mother was
+ailing. Frank and his father discussed the Prosecution.</p>
+<p>"It has had its day," the elder Stanley said. "Your public is
+listless, sick of the whole rotten mess. They've lost the moral
+perspective. All they want is to have it over."</p>
+<p>"I guess I feel the same way." Frank's eyes were downcast.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Sometimes Frank met Norah France at Aleta's apartment, but she
+carefully avoided further mention of the topic they had talked of
+on election night. Frank liked her poetry. With a spirit less
+morbid she would have made a name for herself he thought.</p>
+<p>Aleta was doing more and more settlement work. She had been
+playing second lead at the theater and had had a New York offer.
+Frank could not understand why she refused it. But Norah did,
+though she kept the secret from Frank.</p>
+<p>"Do you know how many talesmen have been called in the Calhoun
+trial?" Aleta asked, looking up from the newspaper. "There were
+nearly 1500 in the Ruef case. They called that a record." She
+laughed.</p>
+<p>"Of course Pat Calhoun would wish to outdo Abe Ruef," said
+Frank. "That's only to be expected. He's had close to 2500, I
+reckon."</p>
+<p>"Not quite," Aleta referred to the printed sheet. "Your paper
+says 2370 veniremen were called into court. That's what money can
+do. If he'd been some poor devil charged with stealing a bottle of
+milk from the doorstep, how long would it take to convict him?"</p>
+<p>"It's a rotten world," the other girl spoke with a sudden gust
+of bitterness. "A world without honor or justice."</p>
+<p>"Or a nightmare," said Frank, with a glance at Aleta.</p>
+<p>"Well, if it is, I'm going to wake up soon--in one way or
+another," said Norah. "I will promise you that." To Frank the words
+seemed ominous. He left soon afterward.</p>
+<p>The Calhoun trial dragged interminably. Heney, not entirely
+recovered from his wound, but back in court, faced a battery of the
+country's highest priced attorneys. There were A.A. and Stanley
+Moore, Alexander King, who was Calhoun's law partner in the South;
+Lewis F. Byington, a former district attorney; J.J. Barrett, Earl
+Rogers, a sensationally successful criminal defender from Los
+Angeles, and Garret McEnerney. Heney had but one assistant, John
+O'Gara, a deputy in Langdon's office.</p>
+<p>For five long months the Prosecution fought such odds. Heney
+lost his temper frequently in court. He was on the verge of a nerve
+prostration. Anti-prosecution papers hinted that his faculties were
+failing. Langdon more or less withdrew from the fight. He was tired
+of it; had declined to be a candidate for the district attorneyship
+in the Fall. Heney was the Prosecution's only hope. He consented to
+run; which added to his legal labors the additional tasks of
+preparing for a campaign.</p>
+<p>It was not to be wondered at that Heney failed to convict
+Calhoun. The jury disagreed after many ballots. A new trial was
+set. But before a jury was empanelled the November ballot gave the
+Prosecution its "coup de grace."</p>
+<p>P.H. McCarthy was elected Mayor. Charles Fickert defeated Heney
+for the district attorneyship. An anti-Prosecution government took
+office.</p>
+<p>"Big Jim" Gallagher, the Prosecution's leading witness,
+disappeared.</p>
+<p>Fickert sought dismissal of the Calhoun case and finally
+obtained it.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>San Francisco heaved a sigh of relief and turned its attention
+toward another problem. Its people planned a great world exposition
+to celebrate the opening of the Panama Canal.</p>
+<p>With the close of the Graft trials, San Francisco put its
+shoulders in concerted effort to the wheel. There were rivals now.
+San Diego claimed a prior plan. New Orleans was importuning
+Congress to support it in an Exposition. The Southern city sent its
+lobbying delegation to the Capitol. San Francisco seemed about to
+lose.</p>
+<p>But the city was aroused to one of its outbursts of pioneer
+energy. The Panama-Pacific International Exposition Company was
+organized. A meeting was called at the Merchants' Exchange. There,
+in two hours, $4,000,000 was subscribed by local merchants.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XC"></a>CHAPTER XC</h2>
+<h3>THE MEASURE OF REDEMPTION</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Frank journeyed East with a party of "Exposition Boosters" after
+the memorable meeting in the Merchants' Exchange. The import of
+that afternoon's work had been flashed around the world. It swung
+the tide of public sentiment from New Orleans toward the Western
+Coast. Congress heard the clink of Power in those millions.
+President Taft discerned a spirit of efficiency that would
+guarantee success. He did not desire another Jamestown fiasco. He
+had an open admiration for the city which in four years could
+rebuild itself from ashes, suffer staunchly through disrupting
+ordeals of political upheaval and unite its forces in a mighty plan
+to entertain the World.</p>
+<p>Frank went to the White House for an interview. He clasped the
+large, firm hand which had guided so many troubled ships of state
+for the Roosevelt regime, looked into the twinkling eyes that hid
+so keen a force behind their kindness. Stanley soon discovered that
+in this big, bluff President his city had a friend.</p>
+<p>"What shall I say to the people at home for you, Mr. President?
+Will you give me a message?"</p>
+<p>The Chief Executive was thoughtful for an instant. Then he said,
+"Go back, my boy, and tell them this from me, 'SAN FRANCISCO KNOWS
+HOW!'"</p>
+<p>Frank left the White House, eager and enthusiastic; sought a
+telegraph office. On the following day Market street blazed with
+the slogan.</p>
+<p>In New York, where he went from Washington, Frank heard echoes
+of that speech. San Francisco's cause gained new and sudden favor.
+Frank found the Eastern press, which hitherto had favored New
+Orleans, was veering almost imperceptibly toward the Golden
+Gate.</p>
+<p>He met many San Franciscans in New York. John O'Hara Cosgrave
+was editing Everybody's Magazine, "Bob" Davis was at the head of
+the Munsey publications, Edwin Markham wrote world-poetry on Staten
+Island, "in a big house filled with books and mosquitoes," as a
+friend described it. "Bill" and Wallace Irwin were there, the
+former "batching" in a flat on Washington Square. All of them were
+glad to talk of San Francisco.</p>
+<p>Charley Aiken, editor of Sunset Magazine, was with the boosters.
+Stanley met him in New York. He had a plan for buying the
+publication from its railroad sponsors; making it an independent
+organ of the literary West. Things were looking up for San
+Francisco.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Frank was glad to get back. He had enjoyed his visit to the
+East. But it was mighty good to ride up Market street again. It
+looked quite as it did before the fire. One would have found it
+difficult to believe that this new city with its towering, handsome
+architecture, had lain, a few years back, the shambles of the
+greatest conflagration history has known.</p>
+<p>On Christmas eve Frank and Aleta went down town to hear
+Tetrazzini sing in the streets. The famous prima donna faced an
+audience which numbered upward of a hundred thousand. They
+thronged--a joyous celebrant, dark mass--on Market, Geary, Third
+and Kearny streets. Every window was ablaze, alive with silhouetted
+figures. Frank, who had engaged a window in the Monadnock Block,
+could not get near the entrance. So he and Aleta stood in the
+street.</p>
+<p>"It's nicer," she whispered happily, "to be here among the
+people.... I feel closer to them. As if I could sense the big Pulse
+of Life that makes us all brothers and sisters."</p>
+<p>Frank looked down at her understandingly, but did not speak.
+Tetrazzini had begun her song. Its first notes floated faintly
+through the vast and unwalled auditorium. Then her voice grew
+clearer, surer.</p>
+<p>Never had those bustling, noisy streets known such a stillness
+as prevailed this night. The pure soprano which had thrilled a
+world of high-priced audiences rang out in a wondrous clarion
+harmony. It moved many people to tears. The response was
+overwhelming. Something in that vast human pack went out to the
+singer like a tidal wave. Not the deafening fusilade of
+hand-clapping nor the shouted "Bravos!" It was something deeper,
+subtler. Tetrazzini stepped forward. Tears streamed from her eyes.
+She blew impulsive kisses to the crowd.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>The pageant of the months went on. A coal merchant by the name
+of Rolph had displaced P.H. McCarthy as Mayor of San Francisco. He
+had installed what was termed "a business administration." San
+Francisco seemed pleased with the result. Power of government had
+returned to the "North of Market Street."</p>
+<p>San Francisco had been selected by Congress as the site of the
+exposition. It was scheduled for 1915 and the Panama Canal
+approached completion.</p>
+<p>Frank was living with his father at the Press Club. His mother
+was dead. He had given up newspaper work, except for an occasional
+editorial. Through his father's influence he had found publication
+for a novel. He was something of a public man now, despite his
+comparative youth.</p>
+<p>Occasionally he saw his Uncle Robert. Two of his cousins had
+married. The third, an engineer, had gone to Colorado. Robert
+Windham and his wife were planning a year of travel.</p>
+<p>Sometimes Windham and his nephew talked of Bertha. It was a
+calmer, more dispassionate talk as time went on, for years blunt
+every pain. One day the former said, with tentative defiance, "I
+suppose you'll think there's something wrong about me, boy.... But
+I loved her mother deeply. Honestly--if one can call it that. If
+I'd had a certain kind of--well, immoral--courage, I'd have married
+her.... Just think how different all our lives would have been. But
+I hadn't the heart to hurt Maizie; to break with her ... nor the
+courage to give up my position in life. So we parted. I didn't know
+then--"</p>
+<p>"That you had a daughter?" questioned Frank. His uncle nodded.
+"Perhaps it would have made a difference ... perhaps not."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Aleta had a week's vacation. They were playing a comedy in which
+she had no part. So she had gone to Carmel to visit her friend
+Norah France.</p>
+<p>Frank decided to look in on them. He had been oddly shaken by
+the talk with his uncle. What tragedies men hid beneath the smooth
+exteriors of successful careers? He had always thought his uncle's
+home a happy one. Doubtless it was--happy enough. Love perhaps was
+not essential to successful unions. Frank wondered why he had not
+asked Aleta Boice to be his wife. They were good comrades, had
+congenial tastes. They would both be better off; less lonely. A
+sudden, long-forgotten feeling stirred within his heart. He had
+missed Aleta in the past few days. Why not go to her now; lay the
+question before her? Perhaps love might come to them both.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XCI"></a>CHAPTER XCI</h2>
+<h3>CONCLUSION</h3>
+<br>
+<p>For years thereafter Frank was haunted by the wraiths of vain
+conjecture--morbid questionings of what might have occurred if he
+had caught the train for Monterey that afternoon. For he was not to
+seek Aleta at Carmel. An official of the Exposition Company met
+Frank on the street. They talked a shade too long. Frank missed the
+train by half a minute. He shrugged his shoulders petulantly, found
+his father at the club. That evening they attended a comedy.</p>
+<p>He was not yet out of bed when the office telephoned him the
+next morning. "Didn't he know Norah France rather well?" the City
+Editor inquired. Frank admitted it sleepily.</p>
+<p>Had he a picture of her?</p>
+<p>Frank denied this. No. He didn't know where one might be
+obtained. Had Norah printed a poem or something? W-h-a-a-t!</p>
+<p>The voice at the telephone repeated its message. "Norah France
+was found dead in her room at Carmel this morning. Suicide
+probably. Empty vial and a letter.... The Carmel authorities
+haven't come through yet."</p>
+<p>Frank began to dress hurriedly. Again the telephone rang. Wire
+for him. Should they send it up? No, he would be down in a
+minute.</p>
+<p>The telegram was from Aleta. It read: "Am returning noon train.
+See you at my apartment six P.M."</p>
+<p>Stanley did not see his father in the dining room. He gulped a
+cup of coffee and went down to the office. He had planned an
+editorial for today. But his mind was full of Norah France just
+now.</p>
+<p>Poor child! How she had loved life in her strangely vivid moods!
+And how she had brooded upon its injustice in her alternating
+tempers of depression! He remembered now Aleta's mention of a love
+affair that turned out badly. Aleta had gone down to hearten her
+friend from these dolors. And he recalled, with a desperate,
+tearing remorse, a casual-enough remark of Norah's: "You always
+cheer me up, Frank, when you come to see me."</p>
+<p>He recalled, as well, her comment, months before, that she would
+awake from her dream in one way or another. Well, she had fulfilled
+her promise. God grant, he thought passionately, that the awakening
+had been in a happier world.</p>
+<p>At six o'clock he went to Aleta's apartment. She had not yet
+arrived but presently she came. He saw that she had been crying.
+She could scarcely speak.</p>
+<p>"Frank, let us walk somewhere," she said. "I can't go upstairs;
+it's too full of memories. And I can't sit still. I've got to keep
+moving--fast."</p>
+<p>They strode off together, taking a favorite walk through the
+Presidio toward the Beach. From a hill-top they saw the Exposition
+buildings rising from what once had been a slough.</p>
+<p>Aleta paused and looked down.</p>
+<p>"It's easier to bear--up here," she spoke in an odd, weary
+monotone, as if she were thinking aloud. "This morning ... I think,
+if Norah had left anything in the bottle ... I'd have taken it,
+too."</p>
+<p>"Why did she do it?" Frank asked quickly.</p>
+<p>Aleta faced him. "Norah loved a man ... he wasn't worthy. She
+could see no hope. I wished, Frank, that you might have been there
+yesterday. You used to cheer her so!"</p>
+<p>"Don't!" he cried out sharply.</p>
+<p>The Exposition progressed marvelously. Often Frank and Aleta
+climbed the winding Presidio ascent and gazed upon its growing
+wonders.</p>
+<p>"Beauty will come out of it all," she said one day. "Out of our
+travail and sorrow and sin. I wish that Norah was here. She loved
+beauty so!"</p>
+<p>"Perhaps she is here.... Who knows?"</p>
+<p>She looked at him startled. He was staring off across the
+Exposition site, toward the Golden Gate, where a great ship, all
+its sails spread, swam mysteriously luminous with the sunset.</p>
+<p>"It's beautiful," he said, a catch in his voice. "It's like life
+... coming home in the end ... after long strivings with tempest
+and wave. I wonder--" he turned to her slowly, "Aleta, will it be
+like that with us?"</p>
+<p>"Home!" she spoke the word tenderly. "I wonder what it's like
+... I've never known."</p>
+<p>He drew his breath sharply. "Aleta--will you marry me?"</p>
+<p>Her eyes filled but she did not answer. Presently she shook her
+head.</p>
+<p>He looked at her dumbly, questioning. "You don't love me,
+Frank," she said at last.</p>
+<p>He could not answer her. His eyes were on the ground. A hundred
+thoughts came to his mind; thoughts of an almost overwhelming
+tenderness; thoughts of reverence for her; of affection,
+comradeship. But they were not the right thoughts. They were not
+what she wanted.</p>
+<p>Presently they turned and went toward the town together.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>A Fairyland of gardens and lagoons sprung into existence. Great
+artists labored with a kind of beauty-madness in its making. Nine
+years after San Francisco lay in ashes its doors opened to the
+world. From Ruins had grown a Great Dream, one so beautiful and
+strong, it seemed unreal.</p>
+<p>Aleta and Frank went often. To them the Exposition was a
+rhapsody of silent music and they seldom broke its harmonies with
+speech.</p>
+<p>Frank had not recurred to the question he had asked on Presidio
+Hill. But out of it had come an unspoken compact, a comradeship of
+spirit that was very sweet.</p>
+<p>They stood one day on the margin of Fine Arts Lagoon, gazing
+down at the marvelous reflections of the great dome and its
+pillared colonnade. "Frank," the girl said almost in a whisper, "I
+believe that Love is God's heart, beating, beating ... through the
+Whole of Life." He turned and saw that her eyes were radiant. "And
+I think that when we feel its rhythm in us, it's like a call. A
+call to--"</p>
+<p>"What?" he asked abashed.</p>
+<p>"Service.... Frank," she faced him questioningly, half fearful.
+"You'll forgive me, won't you? I--I'm going away."</p>
+<p>She expected protest, exclamation. Instead he asked her, very
+quietly: "To Europe, Aleta? The Red Cross?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," she said, surprised. "How did you know?"</p>
+<p>"I--I'm going, myself. As a stretcher bearer."</p>
+<p>"Then--" her eyes were stars, "you've felt it, too?"</p>
+<p>He nodded.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>On the deck of an outbound steamer stood two figures. The sky
+was gray. Drifts of fog hung plume-like over Alcatraz, veiled the
+Exposition domes and turrets in a mystic glory. Sometimes it was
+like a great white nothingness; then, as if by magic, Color, Forms
+and Beauty leaped forth like some startling vision from a Land of
+Make Believe.</p>
+<p>The woman at the stern-rail stretched forth her arms. "Goodbye,"
+her words were like a song, a song of heartbreak, mixed with
+exultation. "Goodbye, Oh my City of Dreams!"</p>
+<p>"We will come back," said the man shakily. "We will come with
+new peace in our hearts."</p>
+<p>"Perhaps," she replied, "but it will not matter. San Francisco
+will go on, big, generous, unafraid in its sins and virtues. Oh,
+Frank, I love it, don't you? I want it to be the greatest city in
+the world!"</p>
+<p>He made no answer but he caught her hand and pressed it. The fog
+came down about them like a mantle and shut them in.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12560 ***</div>
+</body>
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+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
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+
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #12560 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12560)
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Port O' Gold, by Louis John Stellman
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Port O' Gold
+
+Author: Louis John Stellman
+
+Release Date: June 8, 2004  [eBook #12560]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: iso-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PORT O' GOLD***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Charlie Kirschner and the Project Gutenberg Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 12560-h.htm or 12560-h.zip:
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/5/6/12560/12560-h/12560-h.htm)
+      or
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/5/6/12560/12560-h.zip)
+
+
+
+
+
+PORT O' GOLD
+
+A History-Romance of the San Francisco Argonauts
+
+LOUIS J. STELLMAN
+
+1922
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: As they looked the sunlight triumphed, scattering
+the fog into queer floating shapes, luminous and fraught with weird
+suggestions.... One might have thought a splendid city lay before
+them, ... impalpable, yet triumphant, with its hint of destiny.]
+
+
+
+
+
+     TO THE CITY OF MY ADOPTION AND REBIRTH
+                  SAN FRANCISCO
+
+     Oft from my window have I seen the day
+     Break o'er thy roofs and towers like a dream
+     In mystic silver, mirrored by the Bay,
+     Bedecked with shadow craft ... and then a gleam
+     Of golden sunlight cleaving swiftly sure
+     Some narrow cloud-rift--limning hill or plain
+     With flecks of gypsy-radiance that endure
+     But for the moment and are gone again.
+
+     Then I have ventured on thy strident streets,
+     Mid whir of traffic in the vibrant hour
+     When Commerce with its clashing cymbal greets
+     The mighty Mammon in his pomp of power....
+     And in the quiet dusk of eventide,
+     As wearied toilers quit the marts of Trade,
+     Have I been of their pageant--or allied
+     With Passion's revel in the Night Parade.
+
+     Oh, I have known thee in a thousand moods
+     And lived a thousand lives within thy bounds;
+     Adventured with the throng that laughs or broods,
+     Trod all thy cloisters and thy pleasure grounds,
+     Seen thee, in travail from the fiery torch,
+     Betrayed by Greed, smirched by thy sons' disgrace--
+     Rise with a spirit that no flame can scorch
+     To make thyself a new and honored place.
+
+     Ah, Good Gray City! Let me sing thy song
+     Of western splendor, vigorous and bold;
+     In vice or virtue unashamed and strong--
+     Stormy of mien but with a heart of gold!
+     I love thee, San Francisco; I am proud
+     Of all thy scars and trophies, praise or blame
+     And from thy wind-swept hills I cry aloud
+     The everlasting glory of thy name.
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+This is the story of San Francisco. When a newspaper editor summoned me
+from the mountains to write a serial he said:
+
+"I've sent for you because I believe you love this city more than any
+other writer of my acquaintance or knowledge. And I believe the true
+story of San Francisco will make a more dramatic, vivid, human narrative
+than any fiction I've ever read.
+
+"Take all the time you want. Get everything straight, and _put all
+you've got into this story_. I'm going to wake up the town with it."
+
+To the best of my ability, I followed the editor's instructions. He
+declared himself satisfied. The public responded generously. The serial
+was a success.
+
+But, ah! I wish I might have written it much better ... or that Robert
+Louis Stevenson, for instance, might have done it in my stead.
+
+"Port O' Gold" is history with a fiction thread to string its episodes
+upon. Most of the characters are men and women who have lived and played
+their parts exactly as described herein. The background and chronology
+are as accurate as extensive and painstaking research can make them.
+
+People have informed me that my fictional characters, vide Benito, "took
+hold of them" more than the "real ones" ... which is natural enough,
+perhaps, since they are my own brain-children, while the others are
+merely adopted. Nor is this anything to be deplored. The writer, after
+all, is first an entertainer. Indirectly he may edify, inform or teach.
+My only claim is that I've tried to tell the story of the city that I
+love as truly and attractively as I was able. My only hope is that I
+have been worthy of the task.
+
+Valuable aid in the accumulation of historical data for this volume was
+given by:
+
+Robert Rea, librarian, San Francisco Public Library;
+
+Mary A. Byrne, manager Reference Department, San Francisco Public
+Library;
+
+John Howell and John J. Newbegin, booksellers and collectors of
+Californiana, for whose cheerful interest and many courtesies the author
+is sincerely grateful.
+
+THE AUTHOR.
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+       I Yerba Buena.
+      II The Gambled Patrimony.
+     III The Gringo Ships.
+      IV American Occupation.
+       V An Offer and a Threat.
+      VI The First Election.
+     VII The Rancheros Revolt.
+    VIII McTurpin's Coup.
+      IX The Elopement.
+       X Hull "Capitulates".
+      XI San Francisco is Named.
+     XII The New York Volunteers.
+    XIII The "Sydney Ducks".
+     XIV The Auction on the Beach.
+      XV The Beginning of Law.
+     XVI Gold! Gold! Gold!
+    XVII The Quest of Fortune.
+   XVIII News of Benito.
+     XIX The Veiled Woman.
+      XX A Call in the Night.
+     XXI Outfacing the Enemy.
+    XXII Shots in the Dark.
+   XXIII The New Arrival.
+    XXIV The Chaos of '49.
+     XXV Retrieving a Birthright.
+    XXVI Fire! Fire! Fire!
+   XXVII Politics and a Warning.
+  XXVIII On the Trail of McTurpin.
+    XXIX The Squatter Conspiracy.
+     XXX "Growing Pains".
+    XXXI The Vigilance Committee.
+   XXXII The People's Jury.
+  XXXIII The Reckoning.
+   XXXIV The Hanging of Jenkins.
+    XXXV The People and the Law.
+   XXXVI Fevers of Finance.
+  XXXVII "Give Us Our Savings".
+ XXXVIII King Starts the Bulletin.
+   XXXIX Richardson and Cora.
+      XL The Storm Gathers.
+     XLI The Fateful Encounter.
+    XLII The Committee Organizes.
+   XLIII Governor Johnson Mediates.
+    XLIV The Truce is Broken.
+     XLV The Committee Strikes.
+    XLVI Retribution.
+   XLVII Hints of Civil War.
+  XLVIII Sherman Resigns.
+    XLIX Terry Stabs Hopkins.
+       L The Committee Disbands.
+      LI Senator Broderick.
+     LII A Trip to Chinatown.
+    LIII Enter Po Lun.
+     LIV The "Field of Honor".
+      LV The Southern Plot.
+     LVI Some War Reactions.
+    LVII Waters Pays the Price.
+   LVIII McTurpin Turns Informer.
+     LIX The Comstock Furore.
+      LX The Shattered Bubble.
+     LXI Desperate Finance.
+    LXII Adolph Sutro's Tunnel.
+   LXIII Lees Solves a Mystery.
+    LXIV An Idol Topples.
+     LXV Industrial Unrest.
+    LXVI The Pick-Handle Parade.
+   LXVII Dennis Kearney.
+  LXVIII The Woman Reporter.
+    LXIX A New Generation.
+     LXX Robert and Maizie.
+    LXXI The Blind Boss.
+   LXXII Fate Takes a Hand.
+  LXXIII The Return.
+   LXXIV The "Reformer".
+    LXXV A Nocturnal Adventure.
+   LXXVI Politics and Romance.
+  LXXVII Aleta's Problem.
+ LXXVIII The Fateful Morn.
+   LXXIX The Turmoil.
+    LXXX Aftermath.
+   LXXXI Readjustment.
+  LXXXII At Bay.
+ LXXXIII In the Toils.
+  LXXXIV The Net Closes.
+   LXXXV The Seven Plagues.
+  LXXXVI A New City Government.
+ LXXXVII Norah Finds Out.
+LXXXVIII The Shooting of Heney.
+  LXXXIX Defeat of the Prosecution.
+      XC The Measure of Redemption.
+     XCI Conclusion.
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+As they looked, the sunlight triumphed, scattering the fog into queer,
+floating shapes, luminous and fraught with weird suggestions.... One
+might have thought a splendid city lay before them, ... impalpable, yet
+triumphant, with its hint of destiny.
+
+"Ah, Senor," Inez' smile had faded, ... "they have cause for hatred".
+
+Men with shovels, leveling the sand-hills, piled the wagons high with
+shimmering grains which were ... dumped into pile-surrounded bogs. San
+Francisco reached farther and farther out into the bay.
+
+Samuel Brannan rode through the streets, holding a pint flask of
+gold-dust in one hand ... and whooping like a madman: "Gold! Gold! Gold!
+From the American River".
+
+Passersby who laughed at the inscription witnessed simultaneously the
+rescue of an almost submerged donkey by means of an improvised derrick.
+
+Broderick's commanding figure was seen rushing hither and thither....
+"You and two others. Blow up or pull down that building," he indicated a
+sprawling, ramshackle structure.
+
+There sat the redoubtable captain, all the ... austerity of his West
+Point manner melted in the indignity of sneezes and wheezes.... "Money!
+God Almighty! Sherman, there's not a loose dollar in town".
+
+"Draw and defend yourself," he said loudly. He shut his eyes and a
+little puff of smoke seemed to spring from the end of his fingers,
+followed ... by a sharp report.
+
+In front of the building on a high platform, two men stood.... A
+half-suppressed roar went up from the throng.
+
+Terry, who had taken careful aim, now fired. Broderick staggered,
+recovered himself. Slowly he sank to one knee.
+
+The concourse broke into applause. Then it was hysteria, pandemonium.
+Fifty thousand knew their city was safe for Anti-Slavery.
+
+Half a thousand jobless workers, armed and reckless, marched toward the
+docks. They bore torches.... "A hell-bent crew," said Ellis.
+
+"My boy ... you're wasting your time as a reporter. Listen," he laid a
+hand upon Francisco's knee. "I've a job for you.... The new Mayor will
+need a secretary".
+
+"Perhaps I shall find me a man--big, strong, impressive--with a mind
+easily led.... Then I shall train him to be a leader.... I shall furnish
+the brain".
+
+"I am going South," Francisco told his son. "I cannot bear this".
+
+All at once he stepped forward.... Tears were streaming down his face.
+Then the judge's question, clearly heard, "What is your plea?" "Guilty!"
+Ruef returned.
+
+A HISTORY-ROMANCE OF THE SAN FRANCISCO ARGONAUTS
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE
+
+THE VISION
+
+"Blessed be the Saints. It is the Punta de Los Reyes." The speaker was a
+bearded man of middle years. A certain nobleness about him like an
+ermine garment of authority was purely of the spirit, for he was neither
+of imposing height nor of commanding presence. His clothing hung about
+him loosely and recent illness had drawn haggard lines upon his face.
+But his eyes flashed like an eagle's, and the hand which pointed
+northward, though it trembled, had the fine dramatic grace of one who
+leads in its imperious gesture. He swept from his head the once
+magnificent hat with its scarred velour and windtorn plume, bending one
+knee in a movement of silent reverence and thanksgiving. This was Gaspar
+de Portola, October 31,1769.
+
+Near him stood his aides. All of them were travel-stained, careworn with
+hardship and fatigue. Following their chieftain they uncovered and
+knelt. To one side and a little below the apex of a rocky promontory
+that contained the little group, Christian Indians, muleteers and
+soldados crossed themselves and looked up questioningly. In a dozen
+litters sick men tossed and moaned. A mule brayed raucously, startling
+flocks of wild geese to flight from nearby cliffs, a herd of deer on a
+mad stampede inland.
+
+Portola rose and swept the horizon with his half-fevered gaze. To the
+south lay the rugged shore line with its sea-corroded cliffs, indented
+at one point into a half-moon of glistening beach and sweeping on again
+into vanishing and reappearing shapes of mist.
+
+Far to the northwest a giant arm of land reached out into the water,
+high and stark and rocky; further on a group of white farallones lay in
+the tossing foam and over them great flocks of seabirds dipped and
+circled. Finally, along the coast to the northward, they descried those
+chalk cliffs which Francis Drake had aptly named New Albion, and still
+beyond, what seemed to be the mouth of an inlet.
+
+Dispute sprang up among them. Since July 14th they had been searching
+between this place and San Diego for the port of Monterey. "Perhaps this
+is the place," said Crespi, the priest, reluctantly. "Vizcaino may have
+been amiss when he located it in 37 degrees."
+
+"Yes," spoke Captain Fernando de Rivera, "these explorers are careless
+dogs. One seldom finds the places they map out so gaily. And what do
+they care who dies of the hunger or scurvy--drinking their flagons in
+Mexico or Madrid? A curse, say I, on the lot of them."
+
+Portola turned an irritated glance of disapproval on his henchmen. "What
+say you, my pathfinder?" he addressed Sergeant Jose Ortega, chief
+of Scouts.
+
+"That no one may be certain, your excellency," the scout-chief answered.
+"But," his eyes met those of his commander with a look of grim
+significance, "one may learn."
+
+Portola laid a hand almost affectionately on the other's leather-covered
+shoulder. Here was a man after his heart. Always he had been ahead of
+the van, selecting camp sites, clearing ways through impenetrable brush,
+fighting off hostile savages. Now, ill and hungry as he was, for rations
+had for several days been down to four tortillas per man, Ortega was
+ready to set forth again.
+
+"You had better rest, Saldado. You are far from well. Start to-morrow."
+
+Ortega shrugged. "Meanwhile they mutter," his eyes jerked to the
+indiscriminate company below.
+
+"When men march and have a motive, they forget their grievances. When
+they lie in camp the devil stalks about and puts mischief into their
+thought. I have been a soldier for fourteen years, your excellency."
+
+"And I for thirty," said the other dryly, but he smiled. "You are
+right, my sergeant. Go. And may your patron saint, the reverend father
+of Assisi, aid you."
+
+Ortega saluted and withdrew. "I will require three days with your
+excellency's grace," he said. Portola nodded and observed Ortega's sharp
+commands wheel a dozen mounted soldados into line. They galloped past
+him, their lances at salute and dashed with a clatter of hoofs into the
+valley below.
+
+Young Francisco Garvez spurred his big mare forward till he rode beside
+the sergeant. A tall, half-lanky lad he was with the eager prescience of
+youth, its dreams and something of its shyness hidden in the dark
+alertness of his mien.
+
+"Whither now, my sergeant?" he inquired with a trace of pertness as he
+laid a hand upon the other's pommel. "Do we search again for that
+elusive Monterey? Methinks Vizcaino dreamed it in his cups." He smiled,
+a flash of strong, white teeth relieving the half-weary relaxation of
+his features, and Ortega turning, answered him:
+
+"Perhaps the good St. Francis hid it from our eyes--that we might first
+discover this puerto christened in his honor. We have three days to
+reach the Punta de los Reyes, which Vizcaino named for the kings
+of Cologne."
+
+For a time the two rode on in silence. Then young Garvez muttered: "It
+is well for Portola that your soldados love you.... Else the expedition
+had not come thus far." The sergeant looked at his companion
+smolderingly, but he did not speak. He knew as well as anyone that the
+Governor's life was in danger; that conspiracy was in the air. And it
+was for this he had taken with him all the stronger malcontents. Yes,
+they loved him--whatever treachery might have brooded in their minds.
+His eyes kindled with the knowledge. He led them at a good pace forward
+over hill and dale, through rough and briery undergrowth, fording here
+and there a stream, spurring tired horses over spans of dragging sand
+until darkness made further progress impossible. But with the break of
+day he was on again after a scanty meal. Just at sunrise he led his
+party up to a commanding headland where he paused to rest. His winded
+mount and that of Garvez panted side by side upon the crest while his
+troopers, single file, picked their way up the narrow trail. Below them
+was the Bay of San Francisco guarded by the swirling narrows of the
+Golden Gate. And over the brown hilltops of the Contra Costa a great
+golden ball of sunlight battled with the lacy mists of dawn.
+
+It was a picture to impress one with its mystery and magnificence. The
+two men gazed upon it with an oddly blended sense of awe and exultation.
+And as they looked the sunlight triumphed, scattering the fog into queer
+floating shapes, luminous and fraught with weird suggestions of castle,
+dome, of turret, minaret and towering spire. One might have thought a
+splendid city lay before them in the barren cove of sand-dunes, a city
+impalpable, yet triumphant, with its hint of destiny; translucent silver
+and gold, shifting and amazing--gone in a flash as the sun's full
+radiance burst forth through the vapor-screen.
+
+"It was like a sign from Heaven!" Garvez breathed.
+
+Ortega crossed himself. The younger man went on, "Something like a voice
+within me seemed to say 'Here shall you find your home--you and your
+children and their children's children.'"
+
+Ortega looked down at the dawn-gold on the waters and the tree-ringed
+cove. Here and there small herds of deer drank from a stream or browsed
+upon the scant verdure of sandy meadows. In a distant grove a score of
+Indian tepees raised their cone shapes to the sky; lazy plumes of
+blue-white smoke curled upward. Canoes, rafts of tules, skillfully bound
+together, carried dark-skinned natives over wind-tossed waters, the ends
+of their double paddles flashing in the sun.
+
+"One may not know the ways of God." Ortega spoke a trifle bruskly. "What
+is plain to me is that we cannot journey farther. This estero cuts our
+path in two. And in three days we cannot circle it to reach the Contra
+Costa. We must return and make report to the commander."
+
+He wheeled and shouted a command to his troopers. The cavalcade rode
+south but young Francisco turning in the saddle cast a farewell glance
+toward the shining bay. "Port O' Gold!" he whispered raptly, "some day
+men shall know your fame around the world!"
+
+
+
+PORT O' GOLD
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+YERBA BUENA
+
+It was 1845. Three quarters of a century had passed since young
+Francisco Garvez, as he rode beside Portola's chief of Scouts, glimpsed
+the mystic vision of a city rising from the sandy shores of San
+Francisco Bay.
+
+Garvez, so tradition held, had taken for his spouse an Indian maiden
+educated by the mission padres of far San Diego. For his service as
+soldado of old Spain he had been granted many acres near the Mission of
+Dolores and his son, through marriage, had combined this with another
+large estate. There a second generation of the Garvez family had looked
+down from a palatial hacienda upon spreading grain-fields, wide-reaching
+pastures and corrals of blooded stock. They had seen the Mission era wax
+and wane and Mexico cast off the governmental shackles of Madrid. They
+had looked askance upon the coming of the "Gringo" and Francisco Garvez
+II, in the feebleness of age, had railed against the destiny that gave
+his youngest daughter to a Yankee engineer. He had bade her choose
+between allegiance to an honored race and exile with one whom he termed
+an unknown, alien interloper. But in the end he had forgiven, when she
+chose, as is the wont of women, Love's eternal path. Thus the Garvez
+rancho, at his death became the Windham ranch and there dwelt Dona Anita
+with her children Inez and Benito, for her husband, "Don Roberto"
+Windham lingered with an engineering expedition in the wilds of Oregon.
+
+Just nineteen was young Benito, straight and slim, combining in his
+fledgling soul the austere heritage of Anglo-Saxons with the leaping
+fires of Castile. Fondly, yet with something anxious in her glance, his
+mother watched the boy as he sprang nimbly to the saddle of his favorite
+horse. He was like her husband, strong and self-reliant. Yet,--she
+sighed involuntarily with the thought,--he had much of the manner of her
+handsome and ill-fated brother, Don Diego, victim of a duel that had
+followed cards and wine.
+
+"Why so troubled, madre mia?" The little hand of Inez stole into her
+mother's reassuringly. "Is it that you fear for our Benito when he rides
+among the Gringos of the puebla?"
+
+Her dark crowned and exquisite head rose proudly and her eyes flashed as
+she watched her brother riding with the grace of splendid horsemanship
+toward the distant town of Yerba Buena. "He can take care of himself,"
+she ended with, a toss of her head.
+
+"To be sure, my little one," the Dona Windham answered smiling. No doubt
+it was a foolish apprehension she decided. If only the Dona Briones who
+lived on a ranchita near the bay-shore did not gossip so of the
+Americano games of chance. And if only she might know what took Benito
+there so frequently.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Benito spurred his horse toward the puebla. A well-filled purse jingled
+in his pocket and now and then he tossed a silver coin to some
+importuning Indian along the road. As he passed the little ranch-house
+of Dona Briones he waved his hat gaily in answer to her invitation to
+stop. Benito called her Tia Juana. Large and motherly she was, a woman
+of untiring energy who, all alone cultivated the ranchito which supplied
+milk, butter, eggs and vegetables to ships which anchored in the cove of
+Yerba Buena. She was the friend of all sick and unfortunate beings, the
+secret ally of deserting sailors whom she often hid from searching
+parties. Benito was her special favorite and now she sighed and shook
+her head as he rode on. She had heard of his losses at the gringo game
+called "pokkere." She mistrusted it together with all other alien
+machinations.
+
+Benito reached the little hamlet dreaming in the sun, a welter of
+scrambled habitations. There was the little ship's cabin, called Kent
+Hall, where dwelt that genial spirit, Nathan Spear, his father's friend.
+Nearby was the dwelling, carpenter and blacksmith shop of Calvert Davis;
+the homes of Victor Pruden, French savant and secretary to Governor
+Alvarado; Thompson the hide trader who married Concepcion Avila,
+reigning beauty of her day; Stephen Smith, pioneer saw-miller, who
+brought the first pianos to California.
+
+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.
+
+"I've no authority," Spear answered shortly. He turned his back upon the
+other and strode toward the plaza.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE GAMBLED PATRIMONY
+
+The stranger took his way toward the waterfront and into "Jack the
+Sailor's." Cooper, who had earned this nickname, stood behind a counter
+of rough boards polishing its top with a much soiled towel. He hailed
+the newcomer eagerly. "Hello, Alvin Potts! What brought you here? And
+how is all at Monterey?"
+
+"All's well enough," said Potts, concisely. He glanced about. Several
+crude structures, scarcely deserving the name of tables, were centers of
+interest for rings of rough and ill-assorted men. There were
+loud-voiced, bearded fellows from the whaler's crew. In tarpaulins and
+caps pulled low upon their brows; swarthy Russians with oily, brutish
+faces and slow movements--relics of the abandoned colony at Fort Ross;
+suave, soft-spoken Spaniards in broad-brimmed hats, braided short coats
+and laced trousers tucked into shining boots; vaqueros with colored
+handkerchiefs about their heads and sashes around their middles. A few
+Americans were sprinkled here and there. Usually one player at each
+table was of the sleek and graceful type, which marks the gambler. And
+usually he was the winner. Now and then a man threw down his cards,
+pushed a little pile of money to the center of the table and shuffled
+out. Cooper passed between them, serving tall, black bottles from which
+men poured their potions according to impulse; they did not drink in
+unison. Each player snatched a liquid stimulus when the need arose. And
+one whose shaky nerves required many of these spurs was young Benito.
+
+Potts observed the pale face and the hectic, burning eyes with a
+frowning disapproval. Presently he drew John Cooper to one side.
+
+"He's no business here, that lad ... you know it, Jack," Potts said,
+accusingly. The saloon keeper threw wide his arms in a significant
+gesture.
+
+"He won't stay away ... I've told him half a dozen times. No one can
+reason with that headstrong fool."
+
+"Who's that he's playing with?" asked Potts. "I mean the dark one with a
+scar."
+
+An impressive and outstanding figure was the man Potts designated.
+Stocky, sinister of eye and with a mouth whose half-sardonic smile drew
+the lips a little out of line, he combed his thick black hair now and
+then with delicate, long-fingered hands. They had a deftness and a
+lightning energy, those fingers with their perfectly groomed nails,
+which boded little good to his opponents. He sat back calmly in strange
+contrast to the feverish uncontrol of other players. Now and then he
+flashed a swift glance round the circle of his fellow players. Before
+him was a heap of gold and silver. They watched him deal with the
+uncanny skill of a conjurer before Jack Cooper answered.
+
+"That's Aleck McTurpin from Australia. Thought you knew him."
+
+"One of the Sydney coves?"
+
+"Not quite so loud," the other cautioned hastily. "They call him
+that--behind his back. But who's to tell? I'd like to get the lad out of
+his clutches well enough."
+
+"Think I'll watch the game," Potts said, and sauntered to the table. He
+laid a friendly hand on Windham's shoulder. Benito's pile of coin was
+nearly gone. McTurpin dealt. It was a jack-pot, evidently, for a heavy
+stake of gold and silver was upon the center of the board. Benito's hand
+shook as he raised his cards. He reached forth and refilled his glass,
+gulping the contents avidly.
+
+"Dos cartos," he replied in Spanish to the dealer's inquiry. Potts
+glanced at the three cards which Benito had retained. Each was a king.
+
+The young man eyed his first draw with a slight frown and seemed to
+hesitate before he lifted up the second. Then a little sucking gasp came
+from his throat.
+
+"Senor," he began as McTurpin eyed him curiously, "I have little left to
+wager. Luck has been my enemy of late. Yet," he smiled a trembling
+little smile, "I hold certain cards which give me confidence. I should
+like to play a big stake--once, before I leave--"
+
+"How big?" asked McTurpin, coldly, but his eye was eager.
+
+The Spanish-American faced him straightly. "As big as you like, amigo
+... if you will accept my note."
+
+McTurpin's teeth shut with a click. "What security, young fellow?" he
+demanded.
+
+"My ranch," replied Benito. "It is worth, they say, ten thousand of your
+dollars."
+
+McTurpin covered his cards with his hands. "You want to lay me this
+ranch against--what?"
+
+"Five thousand dollars--that is fair enough," Benito answered. He was
+trembling with excitement. McTurpin watched him hawk-like, seeming to
+consider. "Bring us ink and paper, Jack," he called to Cooper, and when
+the latter had complied, he wrote some half a dozen lines upon a sheet.
+
+"Sign that. Get two witnesses ... you, Jack, and this fellow here," he
+indicated Potts imperiously. He laid his cards face down upon the table
+and extracted deftly from some inner pocket a thick roll of greenbacks.
+Slowly, almost meticulously, he counted them before the gaping tableful
+of players. Fifty hundred-dollar bills.
+
+"American greenbacks," he spoke crisply. "A side bet with our friend,
+the Senor Windham." He shoved the money toward the center of the table,
+slightly apart from the rest.
+
+Benito waveringly picked up the pen. It shook in his unsteady fingers.
+"Wait," Potts pleaded. But the young man brooked no intervention. With a
+flourish he affixed his signature. McTurpin picked up the pen as Benito
+dropped it. "Put your name on as a witness," he demanded of the host.
+"Jack the Sailor" shook his head. "I've no part in this," he said, and
+turned his back upon them. "Nor I," Potts answered to a similar
+invitation.
+
+McTurpin took the paper. "Well, it doesn't matter. You've all seen him
+sign it: You ... and you ... and you." His finger pointed to a trio of
+the nearest players, and their nods sufficed him, evidently. He weighted
+the contract with a gold-piece from his own plethoric pile.
+
+"Show down! Show down!" cried the others. Triumphantly Benito laid five
+cards upon the table. Four of them were kings. A little cry of
+satisfaction arose, for sympathy was with the younger player. McTurpin
+sat unmoved. Then he threw an ace upon the table. Followed it with a
+second. Then a third. And, amid wondering murmurs, a fourth.
+
+He reached out his hand for the stakes. Benito sat quite still. The
+victorious light had gone out of his eyes, but not a muscle moved. One
+might have thought him paralyzed or turned to stone by his misfortune.
+McTurpin's hand closed almost stealthily upon the paper. There was a
+smile of cool and calculating satisfaction on his thin lips as he drew
+the stake toward him.
+
+Then with an electrifying suddenness, Benito sprang upon him. "Cheat!"
+he screamed. "You fleeced me like a robber. I knew. I understood it when
+you looked at me like that."
+
+Quick as McTurpin was in parrying attack--for he had frequent need of
+such defense--the onslaught of Benito found him unprepared. He went over
+backward, the young man's fingers on his throat. From the overturned
+table money rattled to the floor and rolled into distant corners.
+Hastily the non-combatants sought a refuge from expected bullets. But
+no pistol barked. McTurpin's strength far overmatched that of the other.
+Instantly he was on his feet. Benito's second rush was countered by a
+blow upon the jaw. The boy fell heavily.
+
+McTurpin smoothed his ruffled plumage and picked up the scattered coins.
+"Take the young idiot home," he said across his shoulder, as he strode
+out. "Pour a little whisky down his throat. He isn't hurt."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE GRINGO SHIPS
+
+Government was but a name in Yerba Buena. A gringo engineer named
+Fremont with a rabble of adventurers had overthrown the valiant Vallejo
+at Sonora and declared a California Republic. He had spiked the cannon
+at the Presidio. And now a gringo sloop-of-war was in the bay, some said
+with orders to reduce the port. Almost simultaneously an English frigate
+came and there were rumors of a war between the Anglo-Saxon nations.
+
+The prefect, Don Rafael Pinto, had already joined the fleeing Governor
+Castro. Commandante Francisco Sanchez, having sent his soldiers to
+augment the Castro forces in the south, was without a garrison and had
+retired to his rancho.
+
+Nevertheless, had the Senora Windham, with her son and daughter, called
+upon Sub-prefect Guerrero in hope of justice. Her rancho was being taken
+from her. Already McTurpin had pre-empted a portion of the grant and
+only the armed opposition of the Windham vaqueros prevented an entire
+dispossession.
+
+Though Guerrero listened, courteous and punctilious, he had obviously no
+power to afford relief. He was a curiously nervous man of polished
+manners whose eyelids twitched at intervals with a sort of slow St.
+Vitus' dance.
+
+"What can I do, Senora?" with a blend of whimsicality and desperation.
+"I am an official without a staff. And Sanchez a commander stripped of
+his soldados." He stepped to the door with them and looked down upon the
+dancing, rippling waters of the bay, where two ships rode.
+
+"Let these gringos fight it out together. This McTurpin is an Inglese,
+I am told, from their far colony across the sea. If the Americanos
+triumph take your claim to them. If not, God save you, my senora.
+I cannot."
+
+Don Guillermo Richardson, the former harbormaster, came up the hill as
+Dona Anita emerged from the Alcalde's office. He was a friend of her
+husband--a gringo--but trusted by the Spanish Californians, many of whom
+he had befriended. To him Mrs. Windham turned half desperately,
+confessing in a rush of words her family's plight. "What is to become of
+us?" she questioned passionately. "Ah, that my Roberto were here! He
+would know how to deal with these desperadoes." She gestured angrily
+toward the sloop-of-war which rode at anchor in the Bay.
+
+"You have nothing to fear, my friend," returned Richardson with a trace
+of asperity. "Commodore Sloat is a gentleman. He is, I understand, to
+seize Monterey and raise the the American flag there tomorrow. Yet his
+instructions are that Californians are to be shown every courtesy."
+
+"And our rancho?" cried the boy. "Will the Americano Capitan restore it
+to us, think you, Don Guillermo?"
+
+"I know not," said the other sadly. "You should have thought of that
+before you gambled it away, my son."
+
+Benito hung his head. Richardson passed on and the trio made their way
+toward the beach. There they found Nathan Spear in excited converse with
+John Cooper and William Leidesdorff.
+
+They were discussing the probability of an occupation by the American
+marines. "If they come ashore," said Leidesdorff, "I'll invite them to
+my new house. There's plenty of rum for all, and we'll drink a toast to
+Fremont and the California Republic as well."
+
+"Hurrah! Hurrah!" came a cheer from several bystanders.
+
+"I invite you all," cried Leidesdorff, waving his hands and almost
+dancing in his eagerness. "Every man-jack of you in all Yerba Buena."
+
+"How about the ladies, Leidesdorff?" called out a sailor.
+
+"Ah, forgive me, Senora, Senorita!" cried the Dane remorsefully. He
+swept off his wide-brimmed hat with an effort, for he had a fashion of
+jamming it very tightly upon his head. He laid a hand enthusiastically
+upon the shoulders of both Spear and Cooper. "It grows better and
+better. Tomorrow, if the Captain is willing," he jerked his head toward
+the Portsmouth, "tomorrow evening we shall have a grand ball. It shall
+celebrate the day of independence."
+
+"But tomorrow is the eighth of July," said Cooper.
+
+"What matter?" Leidesdorff exclaimed, now thoroughly enthusiastic. "It's
+the spirit of the thing that counts, my friends."
+
+A crowd was assembling. Mrs. Windham and her daughter drew instinctively
+aside. Benito stood between them and the growing throng as if to shield
+them from a battery of curious glances.
+
+"Will the ladies accept?" asked Leidesdorff with another exaggerated
+salute.
+
+Senora Windham, haughty and aloof, had framed a stiff refusal, but her
+daughter caught her hand. "Do not antagonize them, mother," she said in
+an undertone. "Let us meet this Gringo Commandante of the ship.
+Perhaps," she smiled archly, "it is not beyond the possibilities I may
+persuade him into giving aid."
+
+The elder woman hesitated, glanced inquiringly at Nathan Spear who stood
+beside them. He nodded. "The ladies will be pleased," he answered in
+their stead. Another cheer met this announcement.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+AMERICAN OCCUPATION
+
+Yerba Buena awoke to the sunrise of July 8, 1846, with a spirit of
+festive anticipation and a certain relief.
+
+Today the American sloop-of-war would land its sailors and marines to
+take possession of the port. Today the last remaining vestige of the
+Latin's dominance would end. A strange flag, curiously gay with stripes
+and stars, would fly above the customs house; strange men in uniforms of
+blue, and golden braid, would occupy the seats of power. Even the name
+of Yerba Buena would be altered, it was said. New Boston probably would
+be its title.
+
+Early morning brought ox-carts laden with gay, curious Spanish ladies
+from surrounding ranches, piquant eager senoritas with vivacious
+gestures of small hands and fluttering fans; senoras plump and placid,
+slower in their movements and with brooding eyes. They wore their
+laciest mantillas, silkiest gowns and daintiest footwear to impress the
+alien invader. And, beside their equipages, like outriders in the
+cortege of a queen, caballeros and vaqueros sat their caracoling steeds.
+
+Sailors from the trade and whaling ships, trappers, hunters and the
+motley populace of Yerba Buena made a colorful and strangely varied
+picture, as they gathered with the rancheros about the Plaza.
+
+At 8 o'clock four boats descended simultaneously from the Portsmouth's
+sides. They were greeted by loud cheers from the Americans on shore and
+watched with excited interest by the others. The boats landed their
+crews near the spring where a sort of wharf had been constructed. They
+returned for more and finally assembled seventy marines, a smaller
+number of sailors and the ship's band. Captain Montgomery, in the full
+dress uniform of a naval commander, reviewed his forces. Beside him
+stood Lieutenant John S. Misroon, large, correct and rather awkward,
+with long, restless arms; a youthful, rosy complexion and serious blue
+eyes. Further back, assembling his marines in marching order, was
+Lieutenant Henry Watson, a smaller man of extraordinary nervous energy.
+Montgomery gave the marching order. Fife and drum struck up a lively air
+and to its strains the feet of Yerba Buena's first invading army kept
+uncertain step as sailors and marines toiled through the sand. Half a
+thousand feet above them stood the quaint adobe customs house, its
+red-tiled roof and drab adobe walls contrasting pleasantly with the
+surrounding greenery of terraced hills. Below it lay the Plaza with its
+flagpole, its hitching racks for horses and oxen.
+
+Here the commander halted his men. "Lieutenant Watson," he addressed the
+senior subaltern, "be so good as to request attendance by the prefect or
+alcalde.... And for heaven's sake, fasten your coat, sir," he added in a
+whispered aside.
+
+Saluting with one hand, fumbling at his buttons with the other, Watson
+marched into the customs house, while the populace waited agape; but he
+returned very soon to report that the building was untenanted. Captain
+Montgomery frowned. He had counted on the pomp and punctilio of a formal
+surrender--a spectacular bit of history that would fashion gallant words
+for a report. "Haul down the flag of Mexico," he said to Lieutenant
+Misroon. "Run up the Stars and Stripes!"
+
+Lieutenant Misroon gazed aloft, then down again, embarrassed. "There is
+no flag, sir," he responded, and Montgomery verified his statement with
+a frowning glance. "Where the devil is it, then?" he asked explosively.
+
+A frightened clerk appeared now at the doorway of the custom house. He
+bowed and scraped before the irate commander. "Pardon, Senor
+Commandante," he said, quaveringly, "the flag of Mexico reposes in a
+trunk with the official papers of the port. I, myself, have seen the
+receiver of customs, Don Rafael Pinto, place it there."
+
+"And where is Don Rafael?"
+
+"Some days ago he joined the Castro forces in the South, Senor."
+
+"Well, well!" Montgomery's tone was sharp; "there must be someone in
+command. Who is he?"
+
+"The Sub-Prefect has ridden to his rancho, Commandante."
+
+"That disposes of the civil authorities," Montgomery reflected, "since
+Port-Captain Ridley is in jail with Fremont's captives." He turned to
+the clerk again. "Is there not a garrison at the Presidio?"
+
+"They have joined the noble Castro," sighed the clerk, recovering his
+equanimity. "There is only the commander Sanchez, Senor. He is also at
+his rancho."
+
+Despite his irritation, Captain Montgomery could not miss the humor of
+the situation. A dry chuckle escaped him. "Run up the flag," he said to
+Lieutenant Misroon, and the latter hastened to comply. An instant later
+the starry banner floated high above their heads. A cheer broke out.
+Hats flew into the air and from the ship's band came the stirring
+strains of America's national air. Then, deep and thunderous, a gun
+spoke on the Portsmouth. Another and another.
+
+Captain Montgomery, stiff and dignified, lifted his hand and amid an
+impressive silence read the proclamation of Commodore Sloat, in which
+all citizens of captured ports were assured of fair and friendly
+treatment and invited to become subjects of the United States. He
+suggested the immediate formation of a town militia. Leidesdorff came
+bustling forward.
+
+"My house is at your service, gentlemen," he said. "And tonight," he
+removed his hat and bowed toward the ladies, "tonight I bid you all to
+be my guests and give our new friends welcome." He saluted Montgomery
+and his aids, who, somewhat nonplussed, returned the greeting.
+
+Nathan Spear elbowed his way to the commander's side. With him came
+Senora Windham and the smiling Senorita Inez. Benito lingered rather
+diffidently in the background with a group of Spanish Californians, but
+was finally induced to bring them forward. There were general
+handshakings. Many other rancheros, now that the ice was broken, brought
+their wives and daughters for an introduction to the gringo commandante,
+and Montgomery, his good humor restored, kissed many a fair hand in
+response to a languishing smile. It seemed a happy and a friendly
+seizure. Inez said, eyes a-sparkle, "We shall see you at the ball this
+evening, Senor Commandante."
+
+"I shall claim the first dance, Senorita," said the sailor, bowing low.
+Her heart leaped as they left him, and she squeezed her brother's arm.
+"He is a kindly man, Benito mio. I shall tell him of this
+interloper--this McTurpin. Have no fear."
+
+Benito smiled a little dubiously. He had less faith than Inez in the
+future government of the Americans.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+AN OFFER AND A THREAT
+
+Aleck McTurpin, tired but exhilarated, rode toward the Windham rancho on
+the morning after Leidesdorff's ball. He had made a night of it and he
+was in high fettle. The Senorita Windham had granted him a dance despite
+her brother's scowling disapproval. Out of the charm of that brief
+association there had come into the gambler's mind a daring plan. To the
+Senorita Inez he had spoken of his claim upon the Windham rancho through
+her brother's note won on the gambling table. He had touched the matter
+very gently, for McTurpin knew the ways of women and was not without
+engaging qualities when they stood him in good stead.
+
+Now he rode toward a tryst with Inez Windham and his heart leaped at the
+prospect of another sight of her; within him like a heady wine there was
+the memory of her sparkling eyes, the roguish, mischievous, half-pouting
+mouth. The consciousness of something finer than his life had known
+aroused in him strange devotional impulses, unfamiliar yearnings.
+
+He and the Senorita were to meet and plan a settlement of McTurpin's
+claim against the rancho. He had asked her to come alone, and, after a
+swift look, half fearful, half desperate, she consented. It was an
+unheard-of thing in Spanish etiquette. But he believed she would fulfill
+the bargain. And if she did, he asked himself, what should he say--or
+do? For, perhaps, the first time in his life McTurpin was uncertain.
+
+Suddenly the road turned and he came upon her. She stood beside her
+horse, the morning sunlight in her wondrous dark hair. The ride had
+brought fresh color to her face and sparkle to her eyes. McTurpin caught
+his breath before the wonder and beauty of her. Then he sprang from his
+horse and bowed low. The Senorita Inez nodded almost curtly.
+
+"I have little time, Senor," she said, uneasily. "You are late. I may be
+missed." Her smile was all the more alluring for its hint of panic. "Can
+we not come to the point at once? I have here certain jewels which will
+pay a portion of the debt." She unclasped from her throat a necklace of
+pearls he had noted at the ball. She held them out toward him. "And here
+is a ring. Have you brought the paper?"
+
+McTurpin held up a protesting hand. "You wrong me, Senorita," he
+declared. "I am a gambler. Yes ... I take my chance with men and win or
+lose according to the Fates. But I have yet to rob a woman of her
+trinkets."
+
+"It is no robbery," she demurred, hastily. "Take them, I beseech you,
+and return the note. If it is not enough, we will pay more ... later ...
+from the proceeds of the ranch."
+
+"Senorita," said McTurpin eagerly, "let us compromise this matter more
+adroitly. Should I make no further claim upon your ranch than that which
+I possess, why may we not be neighbors--friends?"
+
+She tried to protest, but he rushed on, giving her no opportunity.
+"Senorita, I am not a man devoid of culture. I am not a sailor or a
+trapper like those ruffians below. Nor a keeper of shops. Senorita, I
+will give up gambling and become a ranchero. If--" he stammered,
+"If I--"
+
+Inez Windham took a backward step. Her breath came sharply. In this
+man's absurd confusion there was written plainer than his uncompleted
+words could phrase it, what he meant.
+
+"No, no," her little hands went out as if to ward off some repulsive
+thing. "Senor--that is quite impossible."
+
+McTurpin saw the look of horror, of aversion. He felt as though someone
+had struck him in the face. There was a little silence. Then he
+laughed, shortly.
+
+"Impossible?" the tone was cutting. "We shall see.... This is now a
+white man's country. I have offered to divide the rancho. What if I
+should take it all? Where would you go? You, the proud Senora and the
+shiftless young Benito?"
+
+The Senorita Inez' lips curled. "When my father comes he will know how
+to answer you," she told him, hotly.
+
+"If he were alive he would have come long since," McTurpin answered.
+"Many perish on the northern trails." He took a step toward her. "Do you
+know that this morning 200 more Americans arrived on the ship Brooklyn?
+They are armed and there is talk of 'running out the greasers.' Do you
+know what that means? It were well to have a friend at court, my
+little lady."
+
+"Go!" the girl blazed at him. "Go, and quickly--liar that you are. My
+brother and his vaqueros will know how to protect my mother and me." She
+sprang upon her horse and galloped toward the rancho. McTurpin, red and
+angry, watched her disappearing in a whirl of dust.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Look, my brother! He has spoken truly." Inez and Benito had ridden to
+the pueblo for a confirmation of McTurpin's words. They hitched their
+horses at the rack in Portsmouth Square and walked down toward the
+landing place. A large ship lay in the offing. Between her and the shore
+many small boats laden with passengers and varied cargoes plied to
+and fro.
+
+Inez, as they descended, noted many women clad in the exaggerated
+hoopskirts, the curious, short, gathered bodices and the low hats of the
+early forties. She thought this apparel oddly ugly, though the faces
+were not unattractive. They stood in knots, these women, some of them
+gazing rather helplessly about. The younger ones were surrounded by
+groups of admirers with whom they were chatting animatedly. There were
+also many children capering in the sand and pointing out to one another
+the strange sights of this new place. The men--hundreds of them it
+seemed to Inez--were busied with constructive tasks. Already there were
+many temporary habitations, mostly tents of varied shapes and sizes.
+Bonfires blazed here and there. Stands of arms in ordered, regular
+stacks, gave the scene a martial air. Piles of bed-clothing, household
+effects, agricultural implements, lay upon the sand. A curious
+instrument having a large wheel on one side caught the girl's attention.
+Near it were square, shallow boxes. A pale, broad-shouldered man with
+handsome regular features and brooding, poetic eyes stood beside the
+machine, turning the wheel now and then, and examining the boxes. He
+seemed to be a leader, for many people came to ask him questions which
+he answered with decision and authority.
+
+"Who is that?" asked Inez of Nathan Spear and Leidesdorff as the two
+approached. "And what is the strange contrivance upon which he has
+his hand?"
+
+"It is a printing press," Spear answered. "Yerba Buena is soon to have a
+paper for the chronicling of its metropolitan affairs. The man? Oh,
+that's Sam Brannan, the elder of this band of Mormons."
+
+"Is it true that they have come to drive us from our homes?" asked Inez
+fearfully.
+
+"Who, the Mormons? Lord forbid," retorted Spear. He beckoned to the
+elder, who approached and was presented. Inez, as she looked into his
+kindly eyes, forgot her fears. Brannan eagerly explained his printing
+press. She left him feeling that he was less enemy than friend.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE FIRST ELECTION
+
+Captain John J. Vioget's house was the busiest place in Yerba Buena, and
+John Henry Brown its most important personage. The old frame dwelling
+built by a Swiss sailor in 1840 had become in turn a billiard hall and
+groggery, a sort of sailors' lodging house and a hotel. Now it was the
+scene of Yerba Buena's first election. About a large table sat the
+election inspectors guarding the ballot box, fashioned hastily from an
+empty jar of lemon syrup. Robert Ridley, recently released from Sutter's
+Fort, where he had been imprisoned by the Bear Flag party, was a
+candidate for office as alcalde. He opposed Lieutenant Washington
+Bartlett, appointed to officiate pro tem by Captain Montgomery. Brown
+was busy with his spirituous dispensing. It was made a rule, upon
+Brannan's advice, that none should be served until he had voted.
+
+Brown kept shouting: "Ship-shape, gents, and reg'lar; that's the word.
+Place your vote and then you drinks.... Gord bless yer merry hearts."
+
+Thus he harangued them into order and coaxed many a Russian, Spanish,
+English and American coin across his bar. Suddenly he looked into the
+eyes of Aleck McTurpin.
+
+"Give me a brandy sling," the gambler ordered. He was in a rough mood,
+which ensues from heavy and continued drinking.
+
+"Have ye voted, Aleck?" Brown inquired.
+
+"I vote when I please," McTurpin answered sullenly, "and I drink when it
+suits me." He took from an inner pocket of his coat a derringer with
+silver mountings, laid it meaningly upon the bar. "I ordered a
+brandy sling."
+
+Brown paled, but his eye did not waver. Almost casually, he spoke. "Stop
+your jokin', Aleck. Rules is rules."
+
+McTurpin's fingers closed about the pistol. His eyes were venomous.
+
+Then Benito Windham entered. Just inside the door he paused,
+uncertainly. "I have come to vote for Senor Bartlett as Alcalde,"
+he declared.
+
+A laugh greeted him. "You should not announce your choice," said
+Inspector Ward severely. "The ballot is supposedly secret."
+
+McTurpin turned, his quarrel with Brown instantly forgotten. "Throw the
+little greaser out," he spoke with slow distinctness. "This is a white
+man's show."
+
+There was a startled silence. "He's drunk," Brown told them soothingly.
+"Aleck's drunk. Don't listen to him."
+
+"Drunk or not, I back my words." He waved the weapon threateningly. "Sit
+down there," he ordered Windham. "If you want to vote you'll vote for a
+gentleman. Write Bob Ridley's name on your ballot, or, by God! I'll fix
+you." Benito, as if hypnotized, took a seat at the table and dipped his
+quill in the ink. The others stirred uneasily, but made no move. There
+was a moment of foreboding silence. Then a hearty voice said from the
+door: "What's the matter, gentlemen?"
+
+No one answered. McTurpin, the pistol in his hand, still stood above
+Benito. The latter's fingers held the quill suspended. A drop of ink
+fell on the ballot slip unnoted. Brannan, with a puzzled frown, came
+forward, laid a hand upon the gambler's shoulder.
+
+"What's the matter here?" he asked more sharply.
+
+McTurpin turned upon him fiercely. "Go to hell!" he cried. "I'm running
+this."
+
+Brannan's voice was quiet. "Put the pistol down!" he ordered.
+Deliberately McTurpin raised his weapon. "Damn you--" But he got no
+farther. Brannan's fist struck fairly on the chin. One could hear the
+impact of it like a hammer blow. There was a shot, a bullet spent
+against the rafters overhead. McTurpin sprawling on the
+sawdust-covered floor.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On Windham rancho the Senora Windham waited with a faith that knew no
+end for the coming of her husband. There had been vague reports from
+vaguer sources that he had been captured by the northern savages. Inez
+and Benito were forever at her side--save when the boy rode into town to
+cull news from arriving sailors. The Spanish rancheros had all withdrawn
+to the seclusion of their holdings and were on the verge of war against
+the new authorities of Yerba Buena.
+
+Washington Bartlett, recently elected Alcalde, had abused his office by
+repeated confiscations of fine horses from the camponeras of
+Spanish-Californians, seizing them by requisition of military authority
+and giving orders on the government in exchange. This the Spaniards had
+borne in silence. But abuses had become so flagrant as to pass
+all bounds.
+
+"We must arm and drive these robbers from our California," said Benito
+passionately. "Sanchez has, in secret, organized one hundred caballeros.
+Only wait. The day comes when we strike!"
+
+"Benito," said his mother, sadly, "there has been enough of war. We
+cannot struggle with these Yankees. They are strong and numerous. We
+must keep the peace and suffer until your father comes."
+
+"There is to be a grand ball at the casa of the Senor Leidesdorff," said
+Inez. "El Grande Commandante of the Yankee squadron comes amid great
+ceremony. I will gain his ear. Perchance he will undo the wrongs of this
+Bartlett, the despoiler."
+
+"Inez mia," said her brother, "do not go. No good will come of it. For
+they are all alike, these foreigners."
+
+"Ah!" she cried, reproachfully, "you say that of the Senor Brannan? Or
+of Don Nathan?"
+
+"They are good men," Benito answered, grudgingly. "Have it as you will."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Yerba Buena did honor to Commodore Stockton under Leidesdorff's
+ever-hospitable roof. Hundreds of candles burned in sconces and
+chandeliers, festoons of bunting and greenery gave the big room a
+carnival air; Indian servitors flitted silently about with trays of
+refreshments, and the gold lace and braid of America's navy mingled
+picturesquely with the almost spectacular garb of stately Spanish
+caballeros. The commodore, though undersized, was soldierly and very
+brisk of manner. Stockton seemed to Inez a gallant figure. While she
+danced with him, she found his brisk directness not unpleasing. He asked
+her of the rancheros and of reports that came to him of their
+dissatisfaction with American authority.
+
+"They seem so cordial," he said, "these Spanish gentlemen. I cannot
+believe that they hate us, as it is said."
+
+"Ah, Senor." Inez' smile had faded and her deep and troubled eyes held
+his. "They have cause for hatred, though they come in all good will to
+welcome you."
+
+As it chanced, they passed just then close to a little group in which
+Alcalde Bartlett made a central figure. Two of Stockton's aids were
+hanging on his words.
+
+"Tomorrow, gentlemen, we shall go riding. I will find you each a worthy
+mount. We raise fine horses on the ranches."
+
+The fiery Sanchez, strolling by, overheard as well. Eyes ablaze, he went
+on swiftly joining Vasquez and De Haro near the door. They held low
+converse for an instant with their smouldering glances on the pompous
+Bartlett. Then they hurried out.
+
+[Illustration: "Ah, Senor," Inez' smile had faded ... "they have cause
+for hatred."]
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE RANCHEROS REVOLT
+
+Five horsemen rode into the morning sunshine down El Camino Real toward
+the south. One was Washington Bartlett, alcalde of Yerba Buena, whose
+rather pursy figure sat with an ungainly lack of grace the mettled horse
+which he bestrode. It was none other than Senora Windham's favorite and
+beloved mare "Diablo," filched from the Windham stables several days
+before. In compensation she received a bit of paper signifying that the
+animal was commandeered "for military necessity."
+
+The rancheros were patient fellows, Bartlett reflected. If his
+conscience smote him sometimes, he took refuge in the knowledge that
+America was still at war with Mexico and that these horses were the
+property of alien enemies. Non-combatants, possibly. Yet they had failed
+in declaration of allegiance to the United States.
+
+"I'll show you some excellent horseflesh today," he promised his
+companions. "And, what's better, you shall have your pick."
+
+"Well, that's extraordinarily good of you, alcalde," said the man who
+rode beside him. "But ... do you mean one gets these glorious
+animals--for love?"
+
+"Not--er--exactly," Bartlett answered. "You see, my deputies and
+officers, like yourself, must ride about to make their observations and
+reports. Such are the needs of war."
+
+"Of course," another rider nodded understandingly. "And as alcalde you
+have many deputies."
+
+"As well as many--er--observation officers like ourselves to supply," a
+third supplemented, slyly dropping one eyelid.
+
+The fourth man said nothing for a time. Then, rather unexpectedly, he
+asked: "And what do you give them in exchange, alcalde?"
+
+Bartlett turned in some surprise. "I give them notes of hand," he
+answered half resentfully. "Notes redeemable in American gold--when the
+war is over."
+
+"And, are these notes negotiable security? Will your shop-keepers accept
+them in lieu of coin?"
+
+"At proper discounts--yes," said Bartlett, flushing.
+
+"I have heard," the other remarked almost musingly, "that they are
+redeemable at from fifteen to twenty per cent. And that the only man who
+accepts them at even half of their face value is McTurpin the gambler."
+
+"That is not my business," Bartlett answered brusquely. The quintet rode
+on, absorbed and silent. Below them swept green reaches of ranch land,
+dotted here and there with cattle and horses or the picturesque
+haciendas of old Spanish families. The camino stretched white and broad
+before them, winding through rolling hillocks, shaded sometimes by huge
+overhanging trees.
+
+"Isn't this Francisco Sanchez, whom we go to visit, a soldier, a former
+commandante of your town, alcalde?" asked a rider.
+
+"Yes, the same one who ran away when Montgomery came." Bartlett laughed.
+"It was several days before he dared come out of the brush to take a
+look at the 'gringo invader.'"
+
+"I met him at the reception to Commodore Stockton," said the man who
+rode beside Bartlett. "He didn't impress me as a timid chap, exactly.
+Something of a fire-eater, I'd have said."
+
+"Oh, they're all fire-eaters--on the surface," Bartlett's tone was
+disdainful. "But you may all judge for yourselves in a moment. For, if
+I'm not mistaken, he's coming up the road to meet us."
+
+"By jove, he sits his horse like a king," said Bartlett's companion,
+admiringly. "Who are those chaps with him? Looks like a sort
+of--reception committee."
+
+"They are Guerrero and Vasquez and--oh, yes, young Benito Windham,"
+Bartlett answered. He spurred his horse and the others followed; there
+was something about the half careless formation of the four riders ahead
+which vaguely troubled the alcalde.
+
+"Buenos dias, caballeros," he saluted in his faulty Spanish.
+
+"Buenos dias, senors," Sanchez spoke with unusual crispness. "You have
+come for horses, doubtless, amigo alcalde?"
+
+"Ah--er--yes," said Bartlett. "The necessities of war are great," he
+added apologetically.
+
+"And suppose we refuse?" Benito Windham pressed forward, blazing out the
+words in passionate anger. "Suppose we deny your manufactured
+requisitions? Whence came the horse you sit like a very clown? I will
+tell you, tyrant and despoiler. It was stolen from my mother by
+your thieves."
+
+"Benito, hold your peace," said Sanchez sternly. "I will deal with this
+good gentleman and his friends. They shall be our guests for a time."
+
+As though the words had been a signal, five lariats descended apparently
+from a clear sky, each falling over the head of a member of Bartlett's
+party. They settled neatly and were tightened, pinning the arms of
+riders helplessly.
+
+"Well done, amigos," commented Sanchez as a quintet of grinning vaqueros
+rode up from the rear. "As you have so aptly said, the necessities of
+war are paramount, alcalde."
+
+"What's the meaning of this?" demanded Bartlett. "Release us instantly,
+or you shall suffer. Do you think," he sneered, "that a handful of
+greasers can defy the United States?"
+
+"Perchance, with so important an official as the great Alcalde Bartlett
+for your hostage, we can reach a compromise on certain points," said
+Sanchez. "Come, you shall suffer no hardship, if you accept the
+situation reasonably."
+
+"I warn you that this means death or imprisonment to all of you,"
+Bartlett shouted.
+
+"Ah, senor, the risks of war are many." Sanchez' teeth flashed. He
+clucked to his horse and the little cavalcade wound, single-file, up a
+narrow horse-trail toward the hills.
+
+They passed many bands of horsemen, all armed, saluting Sanchez as their
+chief. Among them were owners and vaqueros from a score of ranches.
+There was something grim, determined in their manner which foreboded
+serious trouble.
+
+One of Bartlett's fellow-captives leaned toward him, whispering: "Those
+fellows mean business. They're like hornets if you stir 'em up too far,
+these greasers."
+
+"Yes, by Jove! And they mean to sting!" said another.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+McTURPIN'S COUP
+
+Yerba Buena was in an uproar. Sanchez' capture of Alcalde Bartlett and
+his party had brought home with a vengeance the war which hitherto was
+but an echo from far Mexico. Now the peaceful pueblo was an armed camp.
+Volunteers rode in from San Jose, San Juan and other nearby pueblos,
+asking for a chance to "fight the greasers." All the ranches of the
+countryside buzzed with a martial ardor. Vaqueros, spurred with jangling
+silver-mounted harness, toward Francisco Sanchez' stronghold in the
+Santa Clara hills to battle with the "gringo tyrants."
+
+Commander Hull of the "Warren" had sent a hundred sailors and marines
+from his sloop, post haste, to quell the rebellion. Couriers rode to and
+fro between his headquarters in the custom house and the punitive
+expedition under Captain Ward Marston which was scouting the Santa Clara
+plains in search of the enemy.
+
+Even now the battle waged, no doubt, for Marston that morning reported a
+brush with the enemy, had asked for reinforcements. Hull had sent post
+haste a pack of ill assorted and undrilled adventurers from among the
+new arrivals. That was 9 o'clock and now the sun had passed its noon
+meridian--with no courier.
+
+William Leidesdorff came strolling up, his expression placid, smiling as
+always. He was warm from toiling up the hill and paused, panting, hat in
+hand, to mop his brow with a large red 'kerchief.
+
+"Ha! Commander!" he saluted. "And how goes it this morning?"
+
+Hull glanced at him half irritated, half amused. One could never quite
+be angry at this fellow nor in tune with him. Leidesdorff, with his
+cherubic grin, his plump, comfortable body, the close-cropped hair, side
+whiskers and moustache, framing and embellishing his round face with an
+ornate symmetry, was like a bearded cupid. Hull handed him the latest
+dispatch. "Nothing since then, confound it!" he said gloomily.
+
+"Ah, well," spoke Leidesdorff, with unction, "one should not be alarmed.
+What is that cloud of dust on the horizon? A courier perhaps."
+
+It proved to be Samuel Brannan, dusty and weary, with dispatches from
+Captain Ward which Hull almost snatched from his hand. A group of men
+and women who had watched his arrival, gathered about asking questions.
+Nathan Spear spoke first. He had been too ill to join the Americans, but
+had furnished them horses and arms. "How goes it with our 'army,' Sam?"
+he asked.
+
+"None too well," said Brannan. "Those greasers can fight and they've a
+good leader. Everyone of them would die for Sanchez. And everyone's a
+sharpshooter. For a time they amused themselves this morning knocking
+off our hats--it rather demoralized the recruits."
+
+Hull, with an imprecation, crushed the dispatch and turned to Brannan.
+"We must have more men and quickly," he announced. "Ward asks for
+instant reinforcements.... Can you recruit--say fifty--from
+your colony?"
+
+"Impossible," said Brannan, shortly. "I have sent all who can ride or
+manage a rifle." He came a little closer and regarded the commander
+steadily. "Did Ward write anything about a parley?" he inquired.
+
+"Yes," said Hull. "He indicates that peace might be arranged if I will
+give a guarantee against further horse or cattle commandeering."
+
+"May I suggest that such a course is wise--and just?"
+
+"Damn it, sir! You'd have me treat with these--these brigands!" the
+other shouted. "Never. They've defied the United States by laying
+violent hands on an official. They've wounded two of my marines."
+
+He turned to the crowd which had assembled. "Do you hear that? Two
+Americans wounded. Five held in captivity--including your alcalde. Shall
+we stand that passively? Shall we let the enemy dictate terms?"
+
+"No, no!" a voice shouted. "Fight to the last ditch. Kill the greasers.
+Hang them to a tree. I'm with you, horse and gun. Who else?"
+
+"I, I, I," a score made answer. They pressed forward. "Who's to lead
+us?" asked the first speaker.
+
+Brannan stepped forward but Commander Hull raised a protesting hand. "I
+shall send a corporal of marines from the Warren. You will rest your
+horse, since I cannot spare you a fresh mount, and hold yourself in
+readiness to act as a courier, Mr. Brannan." He summoned an orderly and
+sent him to the Warren with an order to Corporal Smith. Meanwhile the
+volunteers assembled in the square, thirty-four in all; men of half a
+dozen nationalities. One giant Russian loomed above them, a Goliath on a
+great roan horse. And near him, to accentuate the contrast, an elderly
+moustached, imperialed Frenchman on a mare as under-sized and spirited
+as himself.
+
+Brannan and Leidesdorff watched them galloping down the camino ten
+minutes later under the guidance of a smart young corporal.
+
+"I trust it will soon be over," said the former. "I saw Benito Windham
+riding beside Sanchez in the battle today."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Senorita Inez' head was high that afternoon when McTurpin came upon
+her suddenly in the patio of the Windham hacienda. She rose haughtily.
+"Senor, this intrusion is unpardonable. If my brother was within
+call--" McTurpin bowed low. There was a touch of mockery in his eye.
+"It is about your brother that I've come to talk with you, Miss Inez."
+
+The girl's hand sought her breast. "Benito! He is not--" Words failed
+her.
+
+"No, not dead--yet," McTurpin answered.
+
+"God in Heaven! Tell me," said the girl, imploringly! "He is wounded?
+Dying?" McTurpin took a seat beside her on the rustic bench. "Benito
+isn't dead--nor wounded so far as I know. But," his tone held an ominous
+meaning, "it might be better if he were."
+
+"I--I do not understand," said Inez, staring.
+
+"Then let me make it clear." McTurpin struck a fist against his palm.
+"Your brother is American. Very well. And what is an American who takes
+up arms against his country?"
+
+The girl sprang up. "It is a lie. Benito fights for freedom, justice
+only--"
+
+"That is not the view of our American Commander," McTurpin rose and
+faced her. "The law of war is that a man who fights against his country
+is a traitor." His eyes held hers hypnotically. "When this revolt is
+over there will be imprisonment or pardon for the Spanish-Californians.
+_But Benito will be hanged_."
+
+Inez Windham swayed. One hand grasped at the bench-back for support; the
+other clutched her bodice near the throat. "Benito," she said almost in
+a whisper. Then she turned upon McTurpin furiously. "Go," she cried. "I
+do not believe you. Go!"
+
+But McTurpin did not stir. "It is the law of nations," he declared, "no
+use denying it, Miss Windham."
+
+"Why did you come to tell me this? To torture me?"
+
+"To save you--and your brother?"
+
+"How?" she asked fiercely.
+
+"I have influence with Alcalde Bartlett." The gambler smiled. "He owes
+me--more than he can pay. But if that fails ..." he turned toward her
+eagerly, "I have means to accomplish his escape."
+
+"And the price," she stammered. "There is a price, isn't there?"
+
+His gaze met hers directly, "You, little Inez."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE ELOPEMENT
+
+Two riders, a man and a veiled woman evidently young, halted their
+horses in Portsmouth Square, where the former alighted and offered an
+arm to his companion. She, however, disdaining his assistance, sprang
+lightly from the saddle and, turning her back on him, gazed, motionless,
+toward the bay. There was something arresting and curiously dramatic
+about the whole performance, something that hinted of impending tragedy.
+The slight figure with its listless droop and stony immobility caught
+and clutched the sympathies of Nathan Spear as he was passing by. The
+man was Alec McTurpin; the girl, no doubt, some light o' love from a
+neighboring pueblo. Yet there was a disturbing familiarity about her.
+
+Spear watched them go across the square toward the City Hotel, a long,
+one-story adobe structure built by Leidesdorff as a store and home. On
+the veranda stood the stocky figure of Proprietor Brown, smoking a long
+pipe and conversing with half a dozen roughly dressed men who lounged
+about the entrance. He looked up wonderingly as McTurpin approached. The
+latter drew him to one side and appeared to make certain demands to
+which Brown acquiesced by a curt nod, as if reluctant. Then the man and
+woman passed around a corner of the building, the loungers peering
+curiously after them.
+
+A little later Spear observed the gambler issue forth alone and journey
+rapidly toward the landing dock. He noted that a strange ship rode at
+anchor. It must have come within the hour, he decided. Impelled by
+curiosity, he descended in McTurpin's wake.
+
+"What ship is that?" he asked of Leidesdorff.
+
+"I haven't learned her name. She's from the north coast with a lot of
+sick men. They've the scurvy and flux, I'm told. Dr. Jones has
+gone aboard."
+
+"I wonder what McTurpin's doing at the ship?" said Spear. "He'll get no
+gambling victims out of ailing seamen."
+
+"It's something else he wants, I fancy," said Bob Ridley, coming from
+the dock toward them. "He's looking for a preacher--"
+
+"Preacher?" cried the other men in unison.
+
+"Yes," responded Ridley. "Aleck's going to be married, the sly dog. And
+since the padres will have nothing to do with him, he's hard pressed.
+Perhaps the wench is a stickler for proprieties," he laughed. "Someone
+told him there was a sky pilot aboard the ship!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Inez Windham removed her veil. She was in a small room, almost dark,
+where McTurpin had left her after locking the door on the outside. It
+was like a cell, with one small window high and narrow which let in a
+straggling transmitted light, dimming mercifully the crude outlines of a
+wooden stool, a bedstead of rough lumber, covered by soiled blankets, a
+box-like commode upon which stood a pitcher and basin of heavy crockery.
+
+The walls were very thin. From beyond them, in what was evidently a
+public chamber, came snatches of talk interspersed with oaths, a click
+of poker chips and coin, now and then a song. An odor of rank tobacco
+seeped through the muslin-covered walls. With a sudden feeling of
+nausea, of complete despair, the girl threw herself face down upon
+the bed.
+
+For a time Inez lay there, oblivious to all save the misery of her
+fate. If only her father had not gone with those northern engineers! If
+only Benito were here to advise her! Benito, her beloved brother, in
+whose path the gallows loomed. It was that picture which had caused her
+to yield to McTurpin. Even darker, now, was the picture of her own
+future. A gambler's wife! Her hand sought a jewelled dagger which she
+always carried in her coiffure. Her fingers closed about the hilt with a
+certain solace. After Benito was safe--
+
+Voices in the next room caught her interest by a mention of the Santa
+Clara battle.
+
+"Hull is fighting mad," she heard. "He promises to bring the greasers to
+their knees. It's unconditional surrender or no quarter, Brannan says."
+
+"First catch your pig--then butcher it," said another, meaningly. "The
+Spaniards have the best of it thus far. Hull's shouting frantically for
+reinforcements. Well, he won't get me. I think the rancheros have their
+side as well as we. If this stiff-necked commander would listen
+to reason."
+
+"He hasn't heard the other side," the first speaker resumed. "If he knew
+what Alcalde Bartlett had done to these poor devils through his horse
+and cattle raids--"
+
+A third man laughed. "He'll never learn that, partner, have no fear;
+who'll tell him?"
+
+"Well, here's to Uncle Sam," said a fourth voice. Followed a clink of
+glasses. Inez Windham sat up swiftly and dried her eyes. A daring
+thought had come to her.
+
+Why should not she tell Commander Hull the truth!
+
+She rose and smoothed her ruffled gown. A swift look from the window
+revealed that the road was clear. Inez began tugging at the door. It
+resisted her efforts, but she renewed the battle with all the fury of
+her youthful strength. Finally the flimsy lock gave a bit beneath her
+efforts; a narrow slit appeared between the door and jamb in which she
+forced her hands and thus secured a great purchase. Then, one foot
+against the wall, she tugged and pried and pulled until, with a sudden
+crack, the bar to liberty sprang open.
+
+She was free.
+
+Just across the Plaza the custom house looked down at her, the late sun
+glinting redly on its tiles. There, no doubt, she would find Commander
+Hull. She hastened forward.
+
+"Not so fast, my dear!"
+
+A hand fell on her shoulder rudely. With, a gasp she looked up at
+McTurpin.
+
+Beside the gambler, whose eyes burned angrily, Inez perceived a tall,
+lean, bearded stranger.
+
+"Let me go!" she demanded.
+
+"I have brought the parson," said McTurpin. "We can be married at once."
+
+"I--I--let us wait a little," stammered Inez.
+
+"Why?" the gambler asked suspiciously. "Where were you going?"
+
+"Nowhere," she evaded, "for a walk--"
+
+"Well, you can walk back to the hotel, my lady," said McTurpin. "I have
+little time to waste. And there's Benito to consider," he concluded.
+Suddenly he put an arm about her waist and kissed her. Inez thought of
+her brother and tried to submit. But she could not repress a little cry
+of aversion, of fear. The bearded man stepped forward. "Hold up a bit,
+partner," he drawled. "This doesn't look quite regular. Don't you wish
+to marry him, young lady?"
+
+"Of course she does," McTurpin blustered. "She rode all the way in from
+her mother's ranch to be my wife." He glared at Inez. "Isn't it true?"
+he flung at her. "Tell him."
+
+She nodded her head miserably. But the stranger was not satisfied. "Let
+go of her," he said, and when McTurpin tailed to heed the order, sinewy
+fingers on the gambler's wrist enforced it.
+
+"Now, tell me, Miss, what's wrong?" the bearded one invited. "Has this
+fellow some hold on you? Is he forcing you into this marriage?"
+
+Again the girl nodded dumbly.
+
+"She lies," said McTurpin, venomously, but the words were scarcely out
+of his mouth before the stranger's fist drove them back. McTurpin
+staggered. "Damn you!" he shouted, "I teach you to meddle between a man
+and his woman."
+
+Inez saw something gleam in his hand as the two men sprang upon each
+other. She heard another blow, a groan. Screaming, she fled uphill
+toward the custom house.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+HULL "CAPITULATES"
+
+Like a startled deer, Inez Windham fled from McTurpin and the stranger,
+her little, high-heeled slippers sinking unheeded into the horse-trodden
+mire of Portsmouth Square, her silk skirt spattered and soiled; her
+hair, freed from the protecting mantilla, blowing in the searching trade
+wind. Thus, as Commander Hull sat upon the custom house veranda, reading
+the latest dispatch from Captain Ward, she burst upon him--a flushed,
+disheveled, lovely vision with fear-stricken eyes.
+
+"Senor," she panted, "Senor Commandante ... I must speak with you at
+once!"
+
+Hull rose. "My dear young lady"--he regarded her with patent
+consternation--"my dear young lady ... w-what is wrong?"
+
+She was painfully aware of her bedraggled state, the whirlwind lack of
+ceremony with which she had propelled herself into his presence.
+Suddenly words failed her, she was conscious that an arm stretched
+toward her as she swayed. Next she lay upon a couch in an inner chamber,
+the commander, in his blue-and-gold-braid stiffness bending over her,
+gravely anxious.
+
+She rose at once, ignoring his protesting gesture.
+
+"I--I fainted?" she asked perplexedly. Hull nodded. "Something excited
+you. A fight in the street below. A man was stabbed--"
+
+"Oh!" The white face of the bearded stranger sprang into her memory, "Is
+he dead?"
+
+"No, but badly hurt, I fancy," said the Commander. "They have taken him
+to the City Hotel."
+
+Desperately, she forced herself to speak. "I have come, senor, to ask a
+pardon for my brother. He is very dear to me--and to my mother"--she
+clasped her hands and held them toward him supplicatingly. "Senor, if
+Benito should be captured--you will have mercy?"
+
+The commander regarded her with puzzled interest. "Who is Benito, little
+one?"
+
+"His name is Windham. My father was a gring--Americano, Commandante."
+
+Hull frowned. "An American ... fighting against his country?" he said
+sharply.
+
+"Ah, sir"--the girl came closer in her earnestness--"he does not fight
+against the United States ... only against robbers who would hide behind
+its flag." In her tone there was the outraged indignation of a suffering
+people. "Horse thieves, cattle robbers."
+
+"Hush," said Hull, "you must not speak thus of American officials. Their
+seizures, I am told, were unavoidable--for military needs alone."
+
+"You have never heard our side," the girl spoke bitterly. "Was it
+military need that filched two hundred of our blooded horses from the
+ranches? Was it military need that robbed my ailing mother of her pet,
+the mare Diablo? Was it military need that gave our finest steeds to
+your Alcalde for his pleasure, that enabled half a dozen false officials
+to recruit their stables from our caponeras and sell horses in the open
+market?" Her eyes blazed. "Senor, it was tyranny and theft, no less. Had
+I been a man, like Benito, I, too, should have ridden with Sanchez."
+
+"Can you prove these things?" asked the Commander, sternly.
+
+"Si, senor," said Inez quickly. "It is well known hereabouts. Do not
+take my word," she smiled, "I am a woman--a Spaniard, on my mother's
+side. Ask your own countrymen--Samuel Brannan, Nathan Spear, William
+Leidesdorff."
+
+Hull pulled at his chin reflectively. "Something of this sort I have
+already heard," he said, "but I believed it idle gossip.... If your
+brother had come to me, instead of riding with the enemy--"
+
+"He is a youth, hot-blooded and impulsive, Senor Commandante." Swiftly,
+and to Hull's intense embarrassment, she knelt before him. "We love him
+so: my mother, who is ill, and I," she pleaded. "He is all we have....
+Ah, senor, you will spare him--our Benito!"
+
+"Get up," said Hull a trifle brusquely. His tone, too, shook a little.
+"Confound it, girl, I'm not a murderer." He forced a smile. "If my men
+haven't shot the young scoundrel you may have him back."
+
+"And that," he added, as the girl rose with a shining rapture in her
+eyes, "may be tomorrow." He picked up a paper from the desk and regarded
+it thoughtfully. "There is truce at present. Sanchez will surrender if I
+give my word that there shall be no further raids."
+
+"And--you will do this, Commandante?" the girl asked, breathlessly.
+
+"I--will consult with Brannan, Leidesdorff and Spear, as you suggested,"
+Hull replied. But his eyes were kind. The Senorita Inez had her answer.
+Impetuously, her arms went around his neck. An instant later, dazed, a
+little red, a moist spot on his cheek and a lingering fragrance clinging
+subtly like the touch of vanished arms, Hull watched her flying heels
+upon the muddy square.
+
+"Well, I'll be damned!" he said, explosively.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the room which had been Inez' whilom prison--and which proved to be
+the only one available in the City Hotel, Adrian Stanley lay tossing and
+muttering. The woman who sat at his bedside watched anxiously each
+movement of his lips, listening eagerly to catch the incoherent,
+whispered words. For a time she could make of them no intelligent
+meaning. But now, after a long and quiet interval, he began to ask
+questions, though his eyes were still closed. "Am I going to die?"
+
+"No," said Inez, for it was she, "you've lost a lot of blood, but the
+doctor says there's small danger."
+
+The bearded face looked up half quizzically. "Are you glad?"
+
+"Oh ... yes," said Inez, with a quick-taken respiration.
+
+"Then it's all right," the patient murmured sleepily. His eyes closed.
+
+Inez' color heightened as she watched him. What had he meant, she
+wondered, and decided that his brain was not quite clear. But, somehow,
+this was not the explanation she desired.
+
+Presently Dr. Elbert Jones came in, cheering her with his breezy, jovial
+drawl.
+
+"Getting tired of your task?" he questioned. But Inez shook her head.
+"He protected me," she said. "It was while defending me that he was
+wounded." Her eyes searched the physician's face. "Where," she
+questioned fearfully, "is--"
+
+"McTurpin?" returned the doctor. "Lord knows. He vamoosed,
+absquatulated. You'll hear no more of him, I think, Miss Windham."
+
+For a moment the dark lashes of the patient rose as if something in the
+doctor's words had caught his attention; then they fell again over weary
+eyes and he appeared to sleep. But when Doctor Jones was gone, Inez
+found him regarding her with unusual interest.
+
+"Did I hear him call you Windham?" he inquired, "Inez Windham?"
+
+"Yes, that is my name," she answered.
+
+"And your father's?"
+
+"He is Don Roberto Windham of the Engineers," Inez leaned forward.
+"Oh!" her eyes shone with a hope she dared not trust. "Tell me, quickly,
+have you news of him?"
+
+"Yes," said Stanley. "He is ill, but will recover. He will soon return."
+His eyes dwelt on the girl in silence, musingly.
+
+"Tell me more!" she pleaded. "We believed him lost. Ah, how my mother's
+health will mend when she hears this. We have waited so long...."
+
+"I was with him in the North," said Stanley. "Often, sitting at the
+camp-fire, while the others slept, he told me of his wife, his daughter,
+and his son, Benito. In my coat," he pointed to a garment hanging near
+the door, "you will find a letter--" He followed her swift, searching
+fingers, saw her press the envelope impulsively against her heart. While
+she read his eyes were on her dreamily, until at last he closed them
+with a little sigh.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+SAN FRANCISCO IS NAMED
+
+Evening on the Windham rancho. Far below, across a vast green stretch of
+meadow sloping toward the sea, the sun sank into crimson canopies of
+cloud. It was one of those perfect days which come after the first
+rains, mellow and exhilarating. The Trio in the rose arbor of the patio
+were silent under the spell of its beauty. Don Roberto Windham, home
+again, after long months of wandering and hardship, stood beside the
+chair in which Senora Windham rested against a pillow. She had mended
+much since his return, and her eyes as she looked up at him held the
+same flashing, fiery tenderness which in the long ago had caused her to
+renounce Castilian traditions and become the bride of an Americano. At
+her feet upon a low stool sat her daughter, Inez, and Windham, as he
+looked down, was a little startled at her likeness to the Spanish beauty
+he had met and married a generation before.
+
+Conscious of his glance, her eyes turned upward and she held out her
+hand to him. "Father, mine," she said in English, "you have made the
+roses bloom again in mother's cheeks. And in my heart," she added with a
+quick, impulsive tenderness.
+
+Robert Windham bent and kissed her wind-tossed hair. "I think another
+has usurped me in the latter task." He smiled, although not without a
+touch of sadness. "Ah, well, Adrian is a fine young fellow. You need not
+blush so furiously."
+
+"I think he comes," said the Senora Anita, and, unconsciously, her arm
+went around the girl. "Is not that his high-stepping mare and his
+beanpole of a figure riding beside Benito in yon cloud of dust?"
+
+She smiled down at Inez. "Do not mind your mother's jesting--Go now to
+smooth your locks and place a rose within them--as I used to do when Don
+Roberto came."
+
+Inez rose and made her way into the casa. She heard a clatter of hoofs
+and voices. At the sound of one her heart leaped strangely.
+
+"We have famous news," she heard her brother say. "The name of Yerba
+Buena has been changed to San Francisco. Here is an account of it in
+Brannan's _California Star_." She heard the rustle of a paper then, once
+more her brother's voice: "San Francisco!" he pronounced it lovingly.
+"Some day it will be a ciudad grande--perhaps even in my time."
+
+"A great city!" repeated his mother. "Thus my father dreamed of it....
+But you will pardon us, Don Adrian, for you have other things in mind
+than Yerb--than San Francisco's future. See, my little one! Even now she
+comes to bid you welcome."
+
+Inez as she joined them gave her hand to Stanley. "Ah, Don Adrian, your
+color is high"--her tone was bantering, mock-anxious. "You have not,
+perchance, a touch of fever?"
+
+He eyed her hungrily. "If I have," he spoke with that slow gentleness
+she loved so well, "it is no fever that requires roots or herbs....
+Shall I," he came a little closer, "shall I put a name to it, Senorita?"
+His words were for her ears alone. Her eyes smiled into his. "Come, let
+us show you the rose garden, Senor Stanley," she said with playful
+formality and placed her silk-gloved fingers on his arm.
+
+Senora Windham's hand groped for her husband's. There were tears in her
+eyes, but he bent down and kissed them away. "Anita, mia, do not grieve.
+He is a good lad."
+
+"It is not that." She hid her face against his shoulder. "It is not
+that--"
+
+"I understand," he whispered.
+
+After a little time Benito spoke. "Mother, I learned something from the
+warring of the rancheros aganist Alcalde Bartlett." He came forward and
+picked up the newspaper which had fallen from his mother's lap. "I
+learned," his hand fell on his father's shoulder, "that I am an
+American."
+
+"Benito!" said his mother quickly.
+
+"I am Don Roberto's son, as well as thine, remember, madre mia!" he
+spoke with unusual gentleness. "Even with Sanchez, Vasquez and Guerrero
+at my side in battle, I did not shoot to kill. Something said within,
+'These men are brothers. They are of the clan of Don Roberto, of thy
+father.' So I shot to miss. And when the commandante, Senor Hull,
+dismissed me with kind words--he who might have hanged me as a
+traitor--my heart was full of love for all his people. And contrition.
+Mother, you will forgive? You, who have taught me all the pride of the
+Hidalgo. For I must say the truth, to you and everyone...." He knelt at
+her feet, impressing a kiss of love and reverence upon her
+outstretched hand.
+
+"Rise, my son," she said, tremulously. "You are right, and it is well."
+She smiled. "Who am I to say my boy is no Americano? I, who wed the best
+and noblest of them all."
+
+There was a little silence. Inez and Don Adrian, returning, paused a
+moment, half dismayed. "Come, my children," said Anita Windham.
+
+"Ah," cried Inez, teasingly, "we are not the only ones who have been
+making love." She led her companion forward. "We have come to ask your
+blessing, mother, father mine," she whispered. "I," her eyes fell, "I am
+taken captive by a gringo."
+
+"Do not use that name," her mother said reprovingly. But Don Roberto
+laughed. "You are the second to declare allegiance to the Stars and
+Stripes." He took Benito's hand. "My son's discovered he's American,
+Don Adrian."
+
+Presently Benito spoke again. "That is not all, my father. There is soon
+to be a meeting for relief of immigrants lost in the Sierra Nevada
+snows. James Reed will organize an expedition from Yerb--from San
+Francisco. And I wish to go. There are women and children
+starving, perhaps."
+
+"It is the Donner party. They tried a short cut and the winter overtook
+them. I, too, will go," said Don Roberto.
+
+"And I," volunteered Stanley.
+
+But the women had it otherwise. "You have been too long gone from me,"
+Anita quavered. "I would fear your loss again." And Inez argued that her
+Adrian was not recovered from his wound or illness. Finally it was
+decided that Benito only would accompany the expedition. The talk fell
+upon other matters. Alcalde Bartlett had been discredited, though not
+officially, since his return from capture by the rancheros. He was soon
+to be displaced and there would be no further commandeering of horses
+and cattle.
+
+"The commandante tells me," Windham said, "that there is still no news
+of the Warren's launch which was sent last December to pay the garrison
+at Sutter's Fort. Bob Ridley's men, who cruised the San Joaquin and
+Sacramento rivers, found nothing."
+
+"But--the boat and its crew couldn't vanish completely?" Benito's tone
+held puzzled incredulity. "There would be Wreckage. Floating bodies--"
+
+"Unless," said Adrian, "they had been hidden--buried secretly, perhaps."
+
+"Adrian, what do you mean?" asked Inez in excitement. "It was about the
+time that--"
+
+"McTurpin left," responded Stanley. "I've heard more than a whisper of
+his possible connection with the disappearance. McTurpin didn't leave
+alone. He rounded up half a dozen rough-looking fellows and they rode
+out of town together."
+
+There was a silence. Then Benito spoke. "We haven't seen the last of
+him, I fear."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE NEW YORK VOLUNTEERS
+
+It was almost a month later that Inez galloped home from San Francisco
+with a precious missive from the absent brother. They had outfitted at
+Johnson's ranch near Sacramento and, encountered the first expedition
+returning with twenty-two starved wretches from the Donner Camp. Many
+women and children still remained there.
+
+"We started on the day which is a gringo fete because it is the natal
+anniversary of the great George Washington," Benito's chronicle
+concluded. "May it prove a good omen, and may we bring freedom, life to
+the poor souls engulfed by the snowdrifts. I kiss your hands. BENITO."
+
+A fortnight passed before there came another letter. The second relief
+party had reached Donner Camp without mishap but, with seventeen
+survivors, had been storm-bound on a mountain summit and returned with
+but eleven of the rescued after frightful hardship. Benito was
+recuperating in a Sacramento hospital from frozen feet.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Look, Roberto," exclaimed Senora Windham as they cantered into San
+Francisco one morning. "A ship all gay with banners! See the townsfolk
+are excited. They rush to the Embarcadero. The band plays. It must be
+the festival of some Americano patron saint."
+
+"It is the long expected New York volunteers," replied her husband.
+"They've been recruited for the past year for service in California.
+Colonel Stevenson, the commander, is a most distinguished man. The
+president himself made him an offer of command if he could raise a
+regiment of California volunteers." Windham smiled. "I believe it is
+for colonization rather than actual military duty that they've been sent
+out here ... three shiploads of them with two doctors and a chaplain."
+
+As they picked their way along a narrow footpath toward the beach, the
+portly Leidesdorff advanced to greet them. "Would that I had a cloak of
+velvet," he said gallantly, "so that I might lay it in the mire at your
+feet, fair lady." Anita Windham flashed a smile at him. "Like the
+chivalrous Don Walter Raleigh," she responded. "Ah, but I am not a Queen
+Elizabeth. Nor is this London." She regarded with a shrug of distaste
+the stretch of mud-flats reaching to the tide-line, rubbish--littered
+and unfragrant. Knee-deep in its mire, bare-legged Indians and booted
+men drove piles for the superstructure of a new pier.
+
+Lieutenant Bryant joined them, brisk and natty in his naval garb. He was
+the new alcalde, Bartlett having been displaced and ordered to
+rejoin his ship.
+
+"No, it's not London," he took up Anita's statement, "but it's going to
+be a better San Francisco if I have my way. We'll fill that bog with
+sand and lay out streets between Fort Montgomery and the Rincon, if the
+governor'll cede the tide-flats to the town. Jasper O'Farrell is
+making a map."
+
+"See, they are landing," cried the Dona Windham, clapping her hands.
+
+A boat put off amid hails from the shore. Soon four officers and a
+boat's crew stood upon the landing pier and gazed about them curiously.
+
+"That's Colonel Stevenson," said Bryant, nodding toward the leader. On
+the verge of fifty, statesmanlike of mien and manner, stood the man who
+had recruited the first volunteer company which came around The Horn. He
+fingered his sword a bit awkwardly, as though unused to military dress
+formalities. But his eyes were keen and eager and commanding.
+
+More boats put off from the anchored vessel. By and by the parade
+began, led by Captain Stevenson. It was a straggling military formation
+that toiled up-hill through the sand toward Portsmouth Square. These men
+were from the byways and hedges of life. Some of them had shifty eyes
+and some bold, predatory glances which forebode nothing good for San
+Francisco's peace. Adventurers for the most part, lured to this new
+land, some by the wander spirit, others by a wish to free themselves
+from the restraints of law. Certain of them were to die upon the
+gallows; others were to be the proud and honored citizens of a raw,
+potential metropolis. They talked loudly, vehemently, to one another as
+they marched like school boys seeing strange sights, pointing eagerly at
+all that aroused their interest. The officers marched more stiffly as
+though conscious of official noblesse oblige.
+
+"I wish that Inez might have seen it," Mrs. Windham said a little
+wistfully. "But she must help the Indian seamstress with her gown for
+the dance. Don Adrian is to be there."
+
+"He has decided that there are other ways of serving God than in the
+pulpit," remarked Stanley. "They talk of making him the master of the
+school ... if our committee can ever decide on a location and what's to
+pay for it."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the full regimentals of his rank, Colonel Stevenson graced
+Leidesdorff's ballroom that evening, cordially exchanging smiles and
+bows with San Francisco's citizenry. Besides him was his quartermaster,
+Captain Joseph Folsom who, though less than thirty, had seen active
+service in a Florida campaign against the Seminoles. He held himself
+slightly aloof with the class consciousness of the West Pointer.
+
+Nearby stood a lanky surgeon of the volunteers discussing antiseptics
+with Dr. Jones. Leidesdorff was everywhere, pathetically eager to
+please, an ecstatic, perspiring figure, making innumerable inquiries as
+to the comfort of his guests.
+
+"He's like a mother hen worried over a brood of new chicks," said
+Brannan to Jasper O'Farrell.
+
+"And a damned fine little man," the Irishman answered. "Oh--I beg your
+pardon, Senorita."
+
+Inez Windham smiled forgiveness, nodding when he asked her for a dance.
+"Tell me," she asked eagerly, "of the grand new map you make for San
+Francisco."
+
+"Ah," O'Farrell said, "they laugh at it because I have to change
+Vioget's acute and obtuse angles. They call it 'O'Farrell's Swing.' You
+see, I've had to change the direction of some streets. There are many
+more now. Eight hundred acres laid out like a city."
+
+As the music stopped he led her to a bench and fumbled in his pocket for
+a drawing which he straightened on his knees. "See, here is a new road
+through the center, a broad way, straight as an arrow from the bay to
+the foot of Twin Peaks. It parallels the Mission camino, and Bryant
+wants to call it Market street."
+
+"But how is this?" asked Inez puzzled, "streets where there is only mud
+and water--"
+
+"They will be reclaimed with the waste from our leveled sand hills,"
+said O'Farrell. He glanced about him searchingly, then whispered:
+"Tonight Governor Mason told me confidentially he would cede the tide
+flats to our local government, provided they are sold at auction for the
+benefit of San Francisco. They'll go cheap; but some day they'll be
+worth thousands. Tell your father--"
+
+He broke off hastily. Toward them stalked Benito Windham, covered with
+dust as though from a long ride. There was trouble in his eyes. With a
+swift apology he drew his sister aside. "McTurpin," he panted. "He is
+back ... with a dozen men ... riding toward the rancho."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE "SYDNEY DUCKS"
+
+Dazed with the suddenness of Benito's announcement and its menacing
+augury, Inez sought her father and Adrian. The latter acted instantly.
+"Do not tell your wife," he said to Windham. "There may be nothing
+amiss. And if there should be, she will find no profit in knowing. Tell
+her you are called away and follow me to the square. We will ride at
+once to the rancho."
+
+He pressed Inez' hand and was gone. "Take care of your mother," he said
+over his shoulder, an admonition which Don Roberto repeated a moment
+later as he hurried out. She was left alone in a maze of doubts, fears,
+speculations. What was McTurpin doing in San Francisco? Why had he and
+his companions ridden toward the Windham rancho? There was only one
+answer. Most of the vaqueros were at a fandango in the Mission. Only the
+serving women and a few men too old for dancing remained at home.
+
+Meawhile her brother, father, lover were speeding homeward, into what? A
+trap? An ambush? Certainly to battle with a foe out-numbering them
+four to one.
+
+At the Mission were a dozen of their servants; men whose fathers and
+grandfathers had ridden herd for her family. Any one of them would give
+his life to serve a Windham.
+
+Inez looked about her feverishly. Should she ask O'Farrell to accompany
+her? He was dancing with one of the Mormon women. Brannan and Spear were
+not to be seen. Leidesdorff was impossible in such an emergency.
+Besides, she could not take him from his guests. She would go alone,
+decided Inez. Quietly she made her way to the cloak-room, in charge of
+an Indian servant, caught up her mantilla and riding crop and fled. On
+the square her horse whinnied at her approach as if eager to be gone.
+Swiftly she climbed into the saddle and spurred forward.
+
+Far ahead gleamed the lights of the Mission. They were making merry
+there with the games and dance of old Spain. And to the south Benito,
+Adrian, her father, rode toward a battle with treacherous men.
+Breathlessly she spurred her horse to greater effort. Trees flashed by
+like witches in the dark. Presently she heard the music of the fandango.
+
+Another picture framed itself before her vision. Excited faces round
+her. A sudden stoppage of the music, a frocked priest making anxious
+inquiries. Her own wild words; a jingle of spurs. Then many hoofs
+pounding on the road beside her.
+
+She never knew just what had happened, what she had said. But now she
+felt the sting of the bay breeze in her face and Antonio's steady hand
+upon her saddle pommel.
+
+"Caramba!" he was muttering. "The pig of a gringo once more. And your
+father; the little Benito. Hurry, comrades, faster! faster! To
+the rescue!"
+
+Came a third picture, finally more clear, more disconcerting. The
+entrance to her father's ranch barred by armed riders. McTurpin smiling
+insolent in the moonlight, bowing to her while Antonio muttered in
+suppressed wrath.
+
+"We have three hostages here, senorita ... relatives of yours and ah--a
+friend." His voice, cold, threatening, spoke on. "They are
+unharmed--as yet."
+
+"I don't believe you," Inez stormed at him.
+
+"Tell them, Senor Windham," said McTurpin, "that I speak the truth."
+
+"Inez, it is true," her father spoke out of some shadowed darkness. "We
+were ambushed. Taken by surprise."
+
+"What do you propose?" asked Antonio, unable longer to restrain himself.
+
+"To turn them loose ... upon their word not to trouble us further,"
+said McTurpin. "I have merely assumed control of my property. I hold the
+conveyance of Benito Windham. It is all quite regular," he
+laughed shortly.
+
+Antonio moved uneasily. His hand upon the lariat itched for a cast.
+McTurpin saw it. "You'll do well to sit still in the saddle," he
+reminded, "all of you. We have you covered."
+
+"What are your orders, master?" said the chief vaquero tensely. "Say the
+word and we will--"
+
+"No," commanded Windham. "There shall be no fighting now. We will go.
+Tomorrow we shall visit the Alcalde. I can promise no more than this."
+
+"It's enough," McTurpin answered. "I've possession. I've a deed with
+your son's signature. And a dozen good friends to uphold me." He turned.
+"Take their pistols, friends, and let them go."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+George Hyde looked up from a sheaf of drawing which lay on the table
+before him and which represented the new survey of San Francisco. A boy
+with a bundle of papers under his arm entered unannounced, tossed a copy
+of "The California Star" toward him and departed. Hyde picked it up
+and read:
+
+     "GREAT SALE OF VALUABLE REAL ESTATE IN THE TOWN OF SAN
+     FRANCISCO, UPPER CALIFORNIA.
+
+     "By the following decree of His Excellency, General S.W.
+     Kearny, Governor of California, all the right, title and
+     interest of the United States and of the territory of
+     California to the BEACH AND WATER lots on the east front of
+     the town of San Francisco have been granted, conveyed and
+     released to the people or corporate authorities of said
+     town--"
+
+Hyde read on. There was a post-script by Edwin Bryant, his predecessor
+as alcalde, calling a public sale for June 29. That was rather soon.
+But he would see. Hyde had an antipathy to any rule or circumstance
+fixed by another. His enemies called him "pig-headed"; his friends
+"forceful," though with a sigh. There was something highhanded in the
+look and manner of him, though few men had better intent. Now his glance
+fell on another, smaller item in the newspaper.
+
+     "SYDNEY DUCKS ARRIVE."
+
+     "In recent vessels from the antipodes have come numerous men
+     from Australia who, according to rumor, are deported English
+     criminals, known as 'Sydney Ducks.' It is said that the
+     English government winks at the escape of these birds of ill
+     omen, who are lured hither by tales of our lawlessness
+     carried by sailormen. It is high time we had a little more
+     law in San Francisco."
+
+That was another of his problems, Hyde reflected irritably. "Sydney
+Ducks." There would be many more no doubt, for San Francisco was
+growing. It had 500 citizens, irrespective of the New York volunteers;
+157 buildings. He would need helpers in the task of city-governing. Half
+idly he jotted down the names of men that would prove good henchmen:
+
+"William A. Leidesdorff, Robert A. Parker, Jose P. Thompson, Pedro
+Sherreback, John Rose, Benjamin Buckalew."
+
+It had a cosmopolitan smack, though it ignored some prominent and
+capable San Franciscans. William Clark, for instance, with whom
+Washington Bartlett had quarreled over town lots, Dr. Elbert Jones and
+William Howard. Hyde was not certain whether they would be amenable to
+his program. Well, he would see.
+
+A shadow loomed in his doorway. He looked up to see Adrian Stanley and
+Robert Windham.
+
+"Come in. Come in." He tried to speak cordially, but there was a shade
+of irritation in his tone. They, too, were a problem.
+
+"Be seated," he invited, as the two men entered. But they stood before
+him rather stiffly.
+
+"Is there any--news?" asked Adrian.
+
+"Nothing favorable," said Hyde uneasily. He made an impatient gesture.
+"You can see for yourselves, gentlemen, that my hands are tied. The
+man--what's-his-name?--McTurpin, has a perfectly correct conveyance
+signed by your son. Benito, I understand, does not deny his signature.
+And his right is unquestioned, for the property came to him direct from
+his uncle, who was Francisco Garvez' only son."
+
+"But--" began Adrian hotly.
+
+"Yes, yes, I know," Hyde interrupted. "The man is a rascal. But what of
+that? It does not help us; I have no power to aid you, gentlemen."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE AUCTION ON THE BEACH
+
+It was the morning of July 20. Fog drifts rode the bay like huge white
+swans, shrouding the Island of Alcatraz with a rise and fall of
+impalpable wings and casting many a whilom plume over the tents and
+adobe houses nestling between sandhills and scrub-oaks in the cove of
+San Francisco.
+
+Robert and Benito Windham, on the hill above Clark's Point, looked down
+toward the beach, where a crowd was gathering for the auction of
+tidewater lots. The Windhams, since their dispossession by McTurpin, had
+been guests of hospitable Juana Briones. Through the Alcalde's order
+they had secured their personal effects. But the former gambler still
+held right and title to the Windham acres. Adrian Stanley made his home
+at the City Hotel and had been occupied with an impromptu school where
+some four score children and half a dozen illiterates were daily taught
+the mysteries of the "Three Rs."
+
+"Adrian has determined to buy some of these mud-lots," said Windham to
+his son. "He believes some day they will be valuable and that he will
+make his fortune." He sighed. "I fear my son-to-be is something of a
+visionary."
+
+Benito gave his father a quick, almost furtive glance. "Do not condemn
+him for that," he said, with a hint of reproach. "Adrian is far-sighted,
+yes; but not a dreamer."
+
+"What can he do with a square of bog that is covered half of the time by
+water?" asked Windham.
+
+"Ah," Benito said, "we've talked that over, Adrian and I. Adrian has a
+plan of reclamation. An engineering project for leveling sandhills by
+contract and using the waste to cover his land. He has already arranged
+for ox-teams and wagons. It is perfectly feasible, my father."
+
+Robert Windham smiled at the other's enthusiasm. "Perhaps you are
+right," he said. "God grant it--and justify your faith in that huddle of
+huts below."
+
+Below them a man had mounted an improvised platform. He was waving his
+arms, haranguing an ever-growing audience. Benito stirred uneasily. "I
+must go," he said. "I promised Adrian to join him."
+
+"Very well," returned his father. He watched the slight and supple
+figure riding down the slope.
+
+Slowly he made his way back to the Rancho Briones. His wife met him at
+the gate.
+
+"Juana and Inez have gone to the sale," she announced. "Shall we join
+them in the pueblo later on?"
+
+"Nay, Anita," he said, "unless you wish it.... I have no faith in mire."
+
+She looked up at him anxiously. "Roberto! I grieve to hear it. They--"
+she checked herself.
+
+"They--what, my love?" he asked curiously.
+
+"They have gone to buy," said Anita. "Juana has great faith. She has
+considerable money. And Inez has taken her jewels--even a few of mine.
+The Senor O'Farrell whispered to her at the ball that the lots would
+sell for little and their value would increase immensely."
+
+"So, that is why Benito has his silver-mounted harness," Windham spoke
+half to himself. He smiled a little ruefully. "You are all gamblers,
+dreamers.... You dear ones of Spanish heritage."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the beach a strangely varied human herd pressed close around a
+platform upon which stood Samuel Brannan and Alcalde Hyde. The former
+had promised to act as auctioneer and looked over a sheaf of notes while
+Hyde in his dry, precise and positive tone read the details of the
+forthcoming sale. It would last three days, Hyde informed his hearers,
+and 450 lots would be sold. North of the broad street paralleling the
+Mission Camino lots were sixteen and a half varas wide and fifty varas
+deep. All were between the limits of low and high water mark.
+
+"What's a vara?" shouted a new arrival.
+
+"A Spanish yard," explained Hyde, "about thirty-three and a third inches
+of English measure. Gentlemen, you are required to fence your lots and
+build a house within a year. The fees for recording and deed will be
+$3.62, and the terms of payment are a fourth down, the balance in equal
+payments during a period of eighteen months."
+
+"How about the lots that lie south?" cried a voice.
+
+"They are one hundred varas square, same terms, same fees," replied
+Hyde. He stepped down and Brannan began his address.
+
+"The site of San Francisco is known to all navigators and mercantile men
+to be the most commanding commercial position on the entire eastern
+coast of the Pacific Ocean," he shouted, quoting from former Alcalde
+Bryant's announcement of three months previous. "The town itself is
+destined to become the commercial emporium of western America."
+
+"Bravo!" supplemented the Dona Briones, waving her fan. She was the
+center of a little group composed of Benito and Inez Windham, Adrian
+Stanley and Nathan Spear. Near them, keeping out of their observance,
+stood Aleck McTurpin.
+
+"The property offered for sale is the most valuable in or belonging to
+the town," Brannan went on, enthusiastically; "it will require work to
+make it tenable. You'll have to wrest it from the waves, gentlemen ...
+and ladies," he bowed to Juana and her companion, "but, take my word for
+it--and I've never deceived you--everyone who buys will bless my memory
+half a dozen years from now...."
+
+"Why don't ye get in yerself and practice what ye preach?" cried a
+scoffing sailor.
+
+Brannan looked him up and down. "Because I'm trying to serve the
+commonwealth--which is more than a drunken deserter from his ship can
+claim," he shot back hotly, "but I'm going to buy my share, never fear.
+Bill Leidesdorff's my agent. He has $5,000 and my power of attorney.
+That's fair enough, isn't it boys? Or, shall we let the sailor act as
+auctioneer?"
+
+"No! No!" a dozen cried. "'Rah for Sam. Go on! You're doin' fine!"
+
+"Thank you," Brannan acknowledged. "Who's to make the first bid? Speak
+up, now, don't be bashful."
+
+"Twenty-five dollars," called Juana Briones.
+
+"Thirty," said a voice behind her, a voice that caused young Windham and
+his sister to start, involuntarily. "McTurpin," whispered Inez
+to Adrian.
+
+"Thirty-five," spoke Juana, imperturbably.
+
+"Forty."
+
+Brannan looked straight into McTurpin's eyes. "Sold to Juana Briones for
+thirty-five dollars," he said, as his improvised gavel fell on the table
+before him.
+
+"I bid forty!" stormed McTurpin. All eyes turned to him. But Brannan
+paid him no attention. Someone laughed.
+
+"Next! Who bids?" invited the auctioneer.
+
+"Twenty-five," began Benito.
+
+This time there were other bidders, all of whom Brannan recognized
+courteously and promptly. Finally, Benito's bid of fifty seemed to win.
+Then McTurpin shouted, "Fifty-five!"
+
+Brannan waited for a moment. There were no more bids. "Sold to Benito
+Windham for fifty dollars," he announced.
+
+"Curse you!" cried the gambler, pushing forward, "you heard me bid
+higher, Sam Brannan!"
+
+Into his path stepped the tall figure of Robert Windham. "We are not
+taking bids from convicts," he said, loudly and distinctly.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+THE BEGINNING OF LAW
+
+McTurpin's look of blind astonishment at Windham's words was succeeded
+by a whitehot fury. Two eyes gleamed with snake-like venom and two spots
+of red glowed in his cheeks, as though each had felt the impact of a
+sudden blow. For a moment he neither moved nor spoke. Then a hand, which
+trembled slightly, made a lightning move toward his hip.
+
+"I wouldn't," drawled the voice of Robert Windham. His right hand,
+loosely in a pocket of his coat, moved slightly. "I've got you covered,
+Sydney Duck McTurpin ... if that's your real name."
+
+The other's hand fell at his side. The two men's glances countered, held
+each other, one calm, dignified, unafraid; the other, murderous,
+searching, baffled. Presently, McTurpin turned and strode away. Windham
+looked after the departing gambler. "'Fraid I've spoiled his morning,"
+he remarked to Nathan Spear.
+
+"Yes--to chance a knife or bullet in the back," retorted Spear,
+uneasily. Their further confidence was drowned in Brannan's
+exhortations: "On with the sale, boys," he shouted. "The side show's
+over ... with nobody hurt, thank Heaven! What'll you bid for a lot in
+the southern part of town? They're a hundred varas square--four times as
+big as the others. Not as central, maybe, but in ten years I bet they'll
+bring a thousand dollars. What's bid for a south lot, my hearties?"
+
+"Twenty-five dollars," said Inez Windham.
+
+"Oh, come, now, Senorita," cried the auctioneer, intriguingly,
+"twenty-five dollars for a hundred-vara lot. Have you no more faith in
+San Francisco?"
+
+"Its--all I have...." the girl spoke almost in a whisper.
+
+Brannan frowned. He looked about him threateningly. "Does anyone bid
+higher than Miss Windham?" he demanded. There was no response. Brannan's
+gavel fell, decisively. "Sold!" he cried, and half a dozen
+voices cheered.
+
+Inez Windham made her way to the auctioneer's stand and handed three
+banknotes to Alcalde Hyde. "But, my dear young lady," he expostulated,
+"you need only pay a fourth of the money down. Six dollars and a quarter
+is enough."
+
+"Oh," said Inez, "then I could have bought more, couldn't I!" She turned
+to Brannan, eagerly. "I could have bought four lots--if I'd only known."
+
+Brannan smiled at her. Then he turned to the crowd. "What d'ye say,
+boys, shall we let her have 'em?" he inquired. Instantly the answer
+came: "Yes, yes, give her the four. God bless her. She'll bring
+us luck."
+
+Impulsively, Inez mounted the platform; astonished at her own temerity,
+at the exuberance of some new freedom, springing from the barriers of a
+shielded life, she shouted at these strange, rough men about her: "Thank
+you, gentlemen!" Then her mother's look of horrified, surprise brought a
+sudden red into her cheeks. She turned and fled. Her father smiled,
+indulgently; Anita's frown changed presently into a look of whimsical,
+perplexed affection. "I am always forgetting, Inez mia," she said,
+softly, "that this is a new day--the day of the Americano."
+
+She watched Benito shouting bids at the side of Adrian, vying with such
+men as Howard, Mellus, Clark and Leidesdorff in the quest for lots.
+"Fifty of them have been sold already," Windham told her. "The auction
+will last three days because there are four hundred more."
+
+Suddenly, Anita Windham put forth a hand and touched that of her
+husband. "Buy one, for me, Roberto," she pleaded.
+
+"But--" he hesitated, "Anita carissima, what will you do with a
+rectangle of mire in this rough, unsettled place?"
+
+"For sentiment," she answered, softly, "in memory of my father, who had
+such abundant faith in San Francisco.... And, perhaps, Don Samuel is
+right. We may yet bless his name."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The summer of 1847 had passed. Inez Windham was the wife of Adrian
+Stanley. He had given up his school for larger matters. Every day his
+ox-teams struggled over sandy bottoms to the tune of snapping whips and
+picturesque profanity by Indian drivers. Men with shovels leveling the
+sand hills, piled the wagons high with shimmering white grains which
+were carried to the shore and dumped into pile-surrounded bogs till the
+tides left them high and dry. San Francisco reached farther and farther
+into the bay, wresting irregular nooks and corners from the
+ebbing-flowing waters, building rickety, improvised piers, sometimes
+washed out by the northers which unexpectedly came down with tempestuous
+fury. Quaint, haphazard buildings made their appearance, strange
+architectural mushrooms grown almost over night, clapboarded squares
+with paper or muslin partitions for inner walls. Under some the tides
+washed at their full and small craft discharged cargoes at their back
+doors. Ships came from Boston, Bremen, Sitka, Chile, Mexico, the
+Sandwich Islands, bringing all manner of necessities and luxuries.
+Monthly mails had been established between San Francisco and San Diego,
+as well as intermediate points, and there was talk of a pony express to
+Independence, Missouri.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There were many crimes of high and low degree, from rifled tills to dead
+men found half buried in the sands. Rumor told of thieves and murderers
+encamped in the hollow bowl of a great sandhill, where they slept or
+caroused by day, venturing forth only at night. Aleck McTurpin's name
+was now and then associated with them as a leader. Men were importing
+safes from the States and carrying derringers at night--even the
+peaceful Mormons. At this time Governor Mason addressed to Alcalde Hyde
+an order for the election of a Town Council.
+
+Adrian was full of these doings when he came home from an executive
+session before which he had appeared as an expert on reclamation. "They
+are good men, Inez," he declared, enthusiastically. "They'll bring law
+to San Francisco. And law is what we need more than all else, my dear."
+
+"And how will they go about it, with no prison-house, no courts or
+judges?" asked Inez, wonderingly.
+
+"Oh, those will soon be provided," he assured, "When there is a will for
+law the machinery comes." He smiled grimly. "McTurpin and his ilk had
+better look to themselves.... We are going after the gamblers."
+
+[Illustration:
+Men with shovels, leveling the sand-hills, piled the wagons high with
+shimmering grains which were dumped into pile-surrounded bogs. San
+Francisco reached farther and farther out into the bay.]
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+GOLD! GOLD! GOLD!
+
+San Francisco never could remember when the first rumor of gold reached
+it. Gold was to mean its transformation from a struggling town into a
+turbulent, riotous city, a mecca of the world's adventurers.
+
+Benito Windham, early in the spring of '48 brought home an echo of it
+from San Jose. One of Sutter's teamsters had exchanged a little pouch of
+golden grains for a flask of aguardiente. Afterward he had told of
+finding it in the tail-race of Marshall's mill on the south fork of the
+American River. Little credence had been given his announcements. In the
+south, near San Fernando Mission, gold had long ago been found, but not
+in sufficient quantities to allure the fortune hunter.
+
+"See, is it not pretty?" asked Benito, pouring out a handful of the
+shining stuff which he had purchased from the teamster.
+
+"Pretty, yes, but what's it worth?" asked Adrian, dubiously.
+
+"Some say it's true value is $16 for an ounce," responded Inez, her eyes
+shining. "Samuel Brannan had a letter from a member of his band who says
+they wash it from the river sand in pans."
+
+"Sam's skeptical, though," retorted Stanley. "And, as for me, I've a
+mine right here in San Francisco." He spoke enthusiastically. "Moving
+sandhills into the bay. Making a new city front out of flooded bogs!
+That's realism. Romance. And what's better, fortune! Isn't it, my girl?"
+
+Inez' eyes were proud. "Fortune, yes, and not a selfish one. For it is
+making others richer, San Francisco better."
+
+"Which is well enough for you," returned Benito with a hint of
+sullenness. "But I am tired of clerking for Ward & Smith at two dollars
+a day. There's no romance in that." With a quick, restless motion he ran
+the golden dust through his fingers again. "I hope they are true, these
+stories. And if they are--" he looked at the others challengingly, "then
+I'm off to the mines, muy pronto."
+
+"Come," said Stanley, "let us have a game of chess together." But
+Benito, with a muttered apology, left them and went out. San Francisco
+had streets now, since the O'Farrell survey's adoption by the council.
+The old Calle de Fundacion had become Dupont street and below it was
+Kearny street, named after the General and former Governor. To the west
+were parallel roads, scarcely worthy of the name of thoroughfares,
+christened in honor of Commodore Stockton, Surgeon Powell of the
+sloop-of-war Warren, Dr. Elbert Jones, Governor Mason, Chaplain
+Leavenworth, the present Alcalde, and George Hyde, the former one.
+Thomas Larkin, former counsel at Monterey, was also to be distinguished.
+East and west the streets had more haphazard names. Broadway and
+California were the widest, aside from the projected Market street,
+which would have a lordly breadth of 120 feet. Some were named after
+Presidents--Jackson, Washington and Clay.
+
+The council had authorized two long wharves, one at the foot of Clay
+street, 547 feet long. This was a great undertaking and had caused much
+discussion pro and con. But now it was almost completed and a matter of
+much civic pride. Large ships, anchored at its terminus, were
+discharging cargo, and thither Benito bent his course, head bent, hat
+pulled well down on his forehead, until a rousing slap on the back spun
+him around almost angrily. He looked into the wise and smiling eyes of
+Edward C. Kemble.
+
+"Well, lad," the editor of the _Californian Star_ accosted, "I hear
+you've been to San Jose. What's new up there, if I may ask you?"
+
+"Very little ... nothing," said Benito, adding, "save the talk of gold
+at Marshall's mill."
+
+"Pooh!" exclaimed the editor. "Marshall's mill, and Mormon island! One
+would think the famous fairy tale of El Dorado had come true."
+
+"You place no credence in it, then?" asked Benito, disappointed.
+
+"Not I," said Kemble. "See here," he struck one fist into the palm of
+another. "All such balderdash is bad for San Francisco. We're trying to
+get ahead, grow, be a city. Look at the work going on. That means
+progress, sustained stimulus. And along come these stories of gold
+finds. It's the wrong time. The wrong time, I tell you. It'll interfere.
+If we get folks excited they'll pull out for the hills, the wilderness.
+Everything'll stop here.... Then, bye and bye, they'll come
+back--busted! Mark my words, BUSTED! Is that business? No."
+
+He went off shaking his head sagely. Benito puzzled, half resentful,
+gazed after him. He abandoned the walk to the dock and returned with
+low-spirited resignation to his tasks at Ward & Smith's store.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For several months gold rumors continued to come. Citizens, fearing
+ridicule, perhaps, slipped unobtrusively out of town, to test their
+truth. Kemble was back from a trip to the so-called gold fields.
+Editorially, he made sport of his findings. He had seen feather-brained
+fortune-seekers gambling hopelessly with fate, suffering untold
+hardships for half the pay they could have gained from "honest labor."
+
+Now and then a miner, dirty and disheveled, came in ragged clothes to
+gamble or drink away the contents of a pouch of "dust." It was at first
+received suspiciously. Barkeepers took "a pinch for a drink," meaning
+what they could grasp with their fingers, and one huge-fisted man
+estimated that this method netted him three dollars per glass.
+
+San Francisco awoke to a famine in butcher-knives, pans and candles.
+Knives at first were used to gouge out auriferous rock, and soon these
+common household appurtenances brought as high as twenty-five dollars
+each. Candles ere long were the equivalent of dollars, and pans were
+cheap at five dollars each.
+
+Still San Francisco waited, though a constant dribble of departures made
+at last perceptible inroads on its population. Then, one May afternoon,
+the fat was in the fire.
+
+Samuel Brannan, who had been at his store in New Helvetia, rode through
+the streets, holding a pint flask of gold-dust in one hand, swinging his
+hat with the other, and whooping like a madman:
+
+"Gold! Gold! Gold! From the American River!"
+
+As if he had applied a torch to the hayrick of popular interest, San
+Francisco flamed with fortune-seeking ardor. Next morning many stores
+remained unopened. There were neither clerks nor proprietors. Soldiers
+fled from the garrison, and Lieutenant William T. Sherman was seen
+galloping northward with a provost guard to recapture a score of
+deserters. Children found no teacher at the new schoolhouse and for
+months its doors were barred. Cargoes, half-discharged, lay on the
+wharves, unwarehoused. Crews left en masse for the mines, and ships
+floated unmanned at anchor. Many of them never went to sea again.
+
+On every road a hegira of the gold-mad swept northward, many afoot, with
+heavy burdens, the more fortunate with horses and pack animals. Men,
+old, young, richly dressed and ragged--men of all conditions,
+races, nations.
+
+The end of May, in 1848, found San Francisco a manless Eden. Stanley,
+struggling with a few elderly Indians and squaws to carry on his work,
+bemoaned the madcap folly bitterly.
+
+[Illustration: Samuel Brannan rode through the streets, holding a pint
+flask of gold-dust in one hand ... and whooping like a madman: "Gold!
+Gold! Gold! From the American River!"]
+
+But Benito, with shining eyes, rode on to what seemed Destiny and
+Fortune. Ward & Smith's little shop lay far behind him. Even his sister
+and her busy husband. Before him beckoned Gold! The lure, adventure,
+danger of it, like a smiling woman. And his spirit stretched forth
+longing arms.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+THE QUEST OF FORTUNE
+
+By the end of June more than half of San Francisco's population had
+departed for the mines. They went by varied routes, mostly on horseback.
+Rowboats, which a month ago had sold for $50, were now bringing ten
+times that sum, for many took the river route to the gold fields. Others
+toiled their way through the hills and the Livermore Valley. The ferry
+across Carquinez Straits at Benicia, was thronged to the danger
+of sinking.
+
+Those who stayed at home awaited eagerly the irregular mails which
+straggled in from unsettled, unorganized, often inaccessible regions
+where men cut and slashed the bowels of the earth for precious metal, or
+waded knee-deep in icy torrents, washing their sands in shallow
+containers for golden residue. No letter had come from Benito to Inez or
+Adrian. But Robert Windham wrote from Monterey as follows:
+
+"My Children: Monterey is mad with the gold-lust, and our citizens are
+departing with a haste that threatens depopulation. Until recently we
+had small belief in the tales of sudden fortune started by the finds at
+Marshall's mill. Alcalde Colton dispatched a messenger to the American
+River on the 6th of June, and, though he has not returned, others have
+brought the news he was sent to gain. On the 12th a man came into town
+with a nugget weighing an ounce and all Monterey Buzzed with excitement.
+Everyone wanted to test it with acids and microscopes. An old woman
+brought her ring and when placed side by side, the metal seemed
+identical; it was also compared with the gold knob of a cane. Some
+declare it a humbug, but it is generally believed to be genuine gold.
+
+"Governor Mason, who has been messing with Alcalde Colton and a naval
+officer named Lieutenant Lanman, is now compelled to bake his own bread.
+The trio roast their coffee and cook what meals they eat. Even the negro
+who blacked their boots went gold hunting and returned after a few weeks
+with $2000.
+
+"Yesterday I met a rough-looking fellow who appeared to be starving. He
+had a sack on his shoulder in which was gold-dust and nuggets worth
+$15,000. You should have seen him a few hours later--all perfumed and
+barbered, with shiny boots; costly, ill-fitting clothes and a marvelous
+display of jewelry.
+
+"Alcalde Colton is going to the mines next month. He laughed when he
+told me of Henry Bee, the alguacil or jailor of San Jose. This man had
+charge of ten prisoners, some of whom were Indians, charged with murder.
+He tried to turn them over to the alcalde, but the latter was at the
+mines. So Bee took his prisoners with him. It is said their digging has
+already made him rich and that he'll let them loose. There is no one to
+chide him. And no one to care."
+
+Later in the day Sam Brannan and Editor Kemble looked in on the
+Stanleys. "It's sheer insanity!" exploded Kemble. "The soldiers have
+gone--left their wives and their children to starve. Even the church is
+locked. Governor Mason has threatened martial law in the mining regions,
+which are filled with cutthroats and robbers. It's said he contemplates
+giving furloughs of two or three months to the gold-fevered troops which
+remain. Was there ever such idiocy?"
+
+"You're wrong, Ed," Brannan told him. "This gold boom is the biggest
+thing that's ever happened. It'll bring the world to our door. Why,
+Mason has reported that gold enough's been taken from the mines already
+to pay for the Mexican war."
+
+"Bah!" cried Kemble, and stalked out muttering. Brannan laughed. "He's
+riding his hobby consistently. But he'll come down. So you've had no
+news from Benito?"
+
+"No," said Inez gloomily. "Perhaps it is too soon. Perhaps he has had no
+luck to tell us of as yet. But I wish he would write just a line."
+
+"Well, well, cheer up, my dear," said Brannan, reassuringly. "Benito can
+take care of himself. Next week I return to my store in the gold lands,
+and I'll have an eye out for the lad. How does your work go, Adrian?"
+
+"Poorly," answered Stanley. "Labor's too high to make money. Why, the
+common laborers who were satisfied with a dollar a day, now ask ten, and
+mechanics twenty. Even the Indians and the immigrants learn at once the
+crazy price of service."
+
+"San Francisco. Port o' Gold!" apostrophized the Mormon gaily. He went
+on his way with a friendly wave of the hand. His steps were bent toward
+Alcalde Hyde's headquarters. Hyde had made many enemies by his set,
+opinionated ways. There was talk of putting Rev. Thaddeus Leavenworth in
+his place. But Brannan was by no means certain this would solve the
+problem. He missed Leidesdorff sadly. The latter's sudden death had left
+a serious hiatus. He was used to talking problems over with the genial,
+hospitable Dane, whose counsel was always placid, well considered.
+
+Congress had failed to provide a government for California. San
+Francisco grumbled; more than all other towns she needed law.
+Stevenson's regiment had been disbanded; its many irresponsibles, held
+previously in check by military discipline, now indulged their bent for
+lawlessness, unstinted. Everything was confusion. Gold-dust was the
+legal tender, but its value was unfixed. The government accepted it at
+$10 per ounce, with the privilege of redemption in coin.
+
+The problem of land grants was becoming serious. There were more than
+hints of the alcalde's speculation; of illegal favors shown to friends,
+undue restrictions placed on others. Brannan shook his head as he
+climbed Washington street hill toward the alcalde's office. In the plaza
+stood a few mangy horses, too decrepit for sale to gold seekers.
+Gambling houses and saloons ringed the square and from these proceeded
+drunken shouts, an incessant click of poker chips; now and then a
+burst of song.
+
+The sound of a shot swung him swiftly about. It came from the door of a
+noisy and crowded mart of chance recently erected, but already the scene
+of many quarrels. The blare of music which had issued from it swiftly
+ceased. There was a momentary silence; then a sound of shuffling feet,
+of whispering voices.
+
+A man ran out into the street as if the devil were after him; another
+followed, staggering, a pistol in his hand. He fired one shot and then
+collapsed with horrid suddenness at Brannan's feet. The other man ran
+into Portsmouth Square, vaulted to the saddle of a horse and spurred
+furiously away.
+
+Brannan stooped over the fallen figure. It was that of a brawny, bearded
+man, red-shirted, booted, evidently a miner. That he was mortally
+wounded his gazing eyes gave evidence. Yet such was his immense vitality
+that he muttered, clutching at his throat--staving off dissolution with
+the mighty passionate vehemence of some dominating purpose. Brannan bent
+to listen.
+
+"Write," he gasped, and Brannan, with an understanding nod, obeyed. "I
+bequeath my claim ... south fork ... American River ... fifty feet from
+end of Lone Pine's shadow ... sunset ... to my pard ... Benito Wind--"
+His voice broke, but his eyes watched Brannan's movements as the latter
+wrote. Dying hands grasped paper, pencil ... signed a scrawling
+signature, "Joe Burthen." Then the head dropped back, rolled for a
+moment and lay still.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+NEWS OF BENITO
+
+Brannan turned from contemplation of the dead to find himself surrounded
+by a curious, questioning group. A bartender, coatless, red-faced,
+grasping in one hand a heavy bung-starter as if it were a weapon of
+defense; a gambler, sleeves rolled up, five cards clutched in nervous
+fingers; half a dozen sailors, vaqueros, a ragged miner or two and
+several shortskirted young women of the class that had recently drifted
+into the hectic night-life of San Francisco. All were whispering
+excitedly. Some of the men, with a show of reverence, removed
+their hats.
+
+"Do you know who did this?" Brannan asked.
+
+"I saw it," cried one of the women. She was dressed as a Spanish dancer
+and in one hand held a tambourine and castanets. "They fight," she gave
+a little smirk of vanity, "about me."
+
+Brannan recognized her as Rosa Terranza, better known as Ensenada Rose.
+She had been the cause of many rivalries and quarrels.
+
+"Dandy" Carter, the gambler, let down his sleeves and thrust the cards
+into his pocket.
+
+"Rose was dealin' faro," he explained, "and this galoot here bucks the
+game.... He lose. You un'erstan'. He lose a lot o' dust ... as much as
+forty ounces. Then--just like that--he stops." The gambler snapped his
+fingers. "He says, 'My little gal; my partner! God Almighty! I'm
+a-wrongin' them!' He starts to go, but Rose acts mighty sympathetic and
+he tells her all about the kid."
+
+"Hees little girl," the dancer finished. "I say we dreenk her health
+together, and he tell me of the senorita. He draw a picture of his claim
+with trees and river and a mountain--ver' fine, like an artist. And he
+say, 'You come and marry me and be a mother to my child'." She laughed
+grimly. "He was ver' much drunk ... and then--"
+
+"That Sydney Duck comes in," said Dandy Carter. "He sits down at the
+table with 'em. They begins to quarrel over Rose. And the fust I knows
+there was a gun went off; the girl yells and the other man vamooses,
+with this feller staggerin' after."
+
+"He shot from under the table," a sailor volunteered. "'Twas murder.
+Where I come from they'd a-hanged him for't."
+
+"But who was he?" Brannan asked the question in another form. The girl
+and Dandy Carter looked at one another, furtively. "I--don't know his
+name," the girl said, finally.
+
+"Don't any of you?" Brannan's tone was searching. But it brought no
+answer. Several shook their heads. Ensenada Rose shivered. "It's cold. I
+go back in," she said, and turned from them. Brannan stopped her with a
+sudden gesture. "Wait," he ordered. "Where's the map ... the paper this
+man showed you ... of his mine?"
+
+Ensenada Rose's eyes looked into Brannan's, with a note of challenge her
+chin went up. "Quien sabe?" she retorted. Brannan watched the slender,
+graceful figure vanish through the lighted door. In her trail the
+gambler and bartender followed. Presently a burst of music issued from
+the groggery; a tap-tap-tap of feet in rhythm to the click of castanets.
+Already the tragedy was forgotten. Brannan found himself face to face
+with the sailor. "I'll help you carry him--somewhere," he said. He
+raised the dead man's shoulders from the ground, and Brannan, following
+his suggestion, took the other end of the grim burden, which they bore
+to the City Hotel. Brannan, in the presence of Alcalde Hyde, searched
+Burthen's clothing for the plan which Rosa had described. But they did
+not find it; only a buckskin bag with a few grains of gold-dust at the
+bottom, a jackknife, a plug of tobacco, a scratched daguerreotype of a
+young girl with corkscrew curls and friendly eyes.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Next evening Nathan Spear chanced in to see the Stanleys. "Sam Brannan's
+gone," he told them. "Said he'd let you know about Benito. And here's a
+letter from Alcalde Colton of Monterey--who's at the gold-fields now."
+
+"Has he seen my brother?" Inez questioned, eagerly.
+
+Spear began to read: "Young Benito Windham has been near here for a
+fortnight. I am told, without much luck, He had to sell his horse and
+saddle, for the price of living is enormous; finally he paired off with
+a man named Burthen--strapping, bearded Kansan with a little daughter,
+about 17. They struck a claim, and Burthen's on the way to San Francisco
+for supplies. I'll tell you more when I have seen the lad and had a talk
+with him. The girl, I understand, was keeping house for them. A pretty,
+wistful little thing, they tell me, so I'd better keep an eye on
+Friend Benito."
+
+"Have you seen this Burthen? Is he here?" asked Stanley.
+
+"He was robbed--and killed last night at the Eldorado."
+
+"Sanctissima!" cried the girl, and crossed herself. "Then the little
+one's an orphan. And Benito--"
+
+"Her guardian, no doubt."
+
+Spear laughed. "He writes that a miner gave $24 in gold-dust for a box
+of seidlitz powders; another paid a dollar a drop for laudanum to cure
+his toothache. Flour is $400 per barrel, whisky $20 for a quart bottle,
+and sugar $4 a pound. 'It's a mad world, my masters,' as Shakespeare
+puts it, but a golden one. By and by this wealth will flow into your
+coffers down in San Francisco. Just now there is little disturbance, but
+it is bound to come. Several robberies and shootings have already taken
+place. There is one man whom I'd call an evil genius--a gambler, a
+handsome ruffian and a dead shot, so they tell me. It's rumored that he
+has a fancy for the little Burthen girl. Lord save her! Perhaps you
+know the rascal, for he hails, I understand, from San Francisco, one
+Alexander McTurpin."
+
+The three surveyed each other in a startled silence.
+
+"Benito and he are sure to quarrel," Inez whispered. "Madre Dolores!
+What can we do?"
+
+"Perhaps I'd better run up to the mines," said Adrian. "I've my own
+affair, you know, to settle with this fellow."
+
+"No, no, you must not," cried his wife in quick alarm.
+
+Spear smiled. "I wouldn't fret," he spoke assuringly. "Sam's gone up to
+see this fellow ... on a little business of his own."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+THE VEILED WOMAN
+
+Several months went by with no news from Benito. James Burthen had been
+buried in the little graveyard on a hill overlooking the bay. And that
+ended the matter in so far as San Francisco was concerned.
+
+In the Alta California, a consolidation of two rival papers, appeared a
+brief notice chronicling the death of an unidentified miner, whose
+assassin, also nameless, had escaped. Ensenada Rose, described as an
+exotic female of dubious antecedents and still more suspicious motives,
+had left the Eldorado on the morning after the shooting "for parts
+unknown." She was believed to hold some "key to the tragic mystery which
+it was not her purpose to reveal."
+
+But killings were becoming too familiar in the growing town to excite
+much comment. San Francisco's population had quadrupled in the past half
+year and men were streaming in by the hundreds from all quarters of the
+globe. Flimsy bunk-houses were hastily erected, springing up as if by
+magic overnight. Men stood in long lines for a chance at these sorry
+accommodations and the often sorrier meals which a score of enterprising
+culinary novices served at prices from one dollar up. Lodging was $30
+per month and at this price men slept on naked boards like sailors in a
+forecastle, one above the other. Often half a dozen pairs of blankets
+served a hundred sleepers. For as soon as a guest of these palatial
+hostelries began to snore the enterprising landlord stripped his body of
+its covering and served it to a later arrival.
+
+"If the town grows much faster it will be a tragedy," remarked Adrian
+to James Lick that afternoon. Lick had bought a city lot at Montgomery
+and Jackson streets and had already sold a portion of it for $30,000. He
+was a believer in San Francisco's future, and at San Jose his flour
+mill, once contemptuously called "Lick's folly," was grinding grain
+which at present prices brought almost its weight in gold.
+
+"Things always right themselves, my boy," he said. "Don't worry. Keep
+pegging away at your sand lots. Some day you'll be a millionaire."
+
+"But half of these people are homeless. And every day they come faster.
+In our neighborhood are a dozen ramshackle tents where these poor devils
+keep 'bachelors' hall' with little more than a skillet and a coffee pot.
+They call it 'ranching.'" He laughed. "What would our old land barons
+have thought of a rancho four by six feet, which the first of our trade
+winds will blow into the bay?"
+
+"The Lord," said Lick, devoutly, "tempers the wind to the shorn lamb.
+And also to the homeless squatter on our sandy shores."
+
+"I hope you're right," responded Stanley. "It does me good to hear
+someone speak of God in this godless place. It is full of thieves and
+cut-throats; they've a settlement at the base of the hill overlooking
+Clark's Point. No man's life is safe, they tell me, over there."
+
+Lick frowned. "They call it Sydney Town because so many Australian
+convicts have settled in it. Some day we'll form a citizens' committee
+and run them off."
+
+"Which reminds me," Lick retorted, "that McTurpin came to town this
+morning. With a veiled woman ... or girl. She looks little more than
+a child."
+
+Adrian surveyed the other, startled. "Child?" His mind was full of vague
+suspicions.
+
+"Well, she didn't weigh more than a hundred. Yes, they came--both on one
+horse, and the fellow's companion none too well pleased, I should say.
+Frightened, perhaps, though why she should be is a puzzle." Lick
+shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Has he taken the girl to his--the ranch?" asked Adrian.
+
+"Don't know. I reckon not," Lick answered. "They ate at the City Hotel.
+He'd a bag full of dust, so he'll gamble and guzzle till morning most
+likely." He regarded his friend keenly, a trifle uneasily. "Come, Adrian
+... I'll walk past your door with you."
+
+"I'm not going home just yet, thanks," Stanley's tone was nervously
+evasive.
+
+"Well, good-night, then," said the other with reluctance. He turned
+south on Kearny street toward his home. Stanley, looking after him,
+stood for a moment as if undetermined. Then he took his way across the
+Plaza toward the City Hotel.
+
+In the bar, a long and low-ceiling room, talk buzzed and smoke from many
+pipes made a bluish, acrid fog through which, Adrian, standing in the
+doorway, saw, imperfectly, a long line of men at the bar. Others sat at
+tables playing poker and drinking incessantly, men in red-flannel
+shirts, blue denim trousers tucked into high, wrinkled boots. They wore
+wide-brimmed hats, and cursed or spat with a fervor and vehemence that
+indicated enjoyment. Adrian presently made out the stocky form of
+McTurpin, glass upraised. Before him on the bar were a fat buckskin bag
+and a bottle. He was boasting of his luck at the mines.
+
+A companion "hefted" the treasure admiringly. "Did you make it gamblin',
+Alec?" he inquired.
+
+"No, by Harry!" said the other, tartly. "I'm no gambler any more. I'm a
+respectable gentleman with a mine and a ranch," he emptied his glass
+and, smacking his lips, continued, "and a beautiful young girl that
+loves me ... loves me. Understand?" His hand came down upon the other's
+shoulder with a sounding whack.
+
+"Where is she?" asked the other, coaxingly. "You're a cunning hombre,
+Alec. Leave us have a look at her, I say."
+
+"Bye and bye," McTurpin spoke more cautiously. "Bye and bye ... then you
+can be a witness to the marriage, Dave." He drew the second man aside
+across the room, so near to Adrian that the latter stepped back to avoid
+discovery.
+
+"She's a respectable lass," he heard McTurpin whisper. "Yes, it's marry
+or nothing with her ... and I'm willing enough, the Lord knows. Can ye
+find me a preacher, old fellow?"
+
+He could not make out the other's reply. Their voices died down to an
+imperceptible whisper as they moved farther away. Stanley thought they
+argued over something. Then the man called Dave passed him and went
+swiftly up the hill.
+
+Vaguely troubled, Stanley returned to the veranda. It was unoccupied for
+chilly evening breezes had driven the loungers indoors. Absently he
+paced the creaking boards and, having reached a corner of the building,
+continued his promenade along what seemed to be the rear of the
+building. Here a line of doors opened on the veranda like the upper
+staterooms of a ship.
+
+Why should he trouble his mind about McTurpin and a paramour? thought
+Adrian. Yet his thought was curiously disturbed. Something Spear had
+read from a letter vexed him dimly like a memory imperfectly recalled.
+What was there about McTurpin and a child? Whose child? And what had it
+to do with the veiled woman who had ridden with the gambler from the
+mines. Impishly the facts eluded him. Inez would know. But Inez must not
+be bothered just now--at this time.
+
+He paused and listened. Was that a woman sobbing? Of course not. Only
+his nerves, his silly sentiment. He would go home and forget the
+whole thing.
+
+There it was again. This time he could not be mistaken. Noiselessly he
+made his way toward the sound. It stopped. But presently it came again.
+From where? Ah, yes, the window with a broken pane.
+
+Soft, heartbroken, smothered wailing. Spasms of it. Then an interlude of
+silence. Adrian's heart beat rapidly. He tip-toed to the window, tried
+the door beside it. Locked. After a moment's hesitation he spoke,
+softly: "Is someone in trouble?"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+A CALL IN THE NIGHT
+
+There was no answer. For a second time Adrian's mind fought a belief
+that sense had tricked him. Now and then a shout from the bar-room
+reached him as he waited, listening. The wind whistled eerily through
+the scant-leaved scrub-oaks on the slopes above.
+
+But from the room at the window of which he listened there came no
+sound.
+
+Adrian felt like one hoaxed, made ridiculous by his own sentimentality.
+He strode on. But when he reached the farther corner some involuntary
+impulse turned him back. And again the sound of muffled sobbing came to
+him from the open window--fainter now, as though an effort had been made
+to stifle it.
+
+Once more he spoke: "I say, what's the trouble in there? Can I help?"
+
+Almost instantly a face appeared against the pane--a tear-stained face,
+terrified and shrinking.
+
+"Oh!" said a voice unsteady with weeping. "Oh! sir, if there is a heart
+in your breast you will help me to escape--to find my father."
+
+Her tone, despite agitation, was that of extreme youth. She was not of
+the class that frequent gambling halls. Both her dress and her manner
+proclaimed that. Adrian was perplexed. "Are you--" he hesitated, fearing
+to impart offense, "are you the girl who came with McTurpin?"
+
+"Yes, yes," she spoke hurriedly. "He told me my father was ill. He
+promised to take me to him. Instead, he locked me in this room. He
+threatened--oh! he is a monster! Will you help me? Do you know my
+father, sir?"
+
+"What is his name?" asked Stanley.
+
+"Burthen, sir, James Burthen," she replied, and fell once more to
+sobbing helplessly. "Oh, if I were only out of here."
+
+Stanley pressed his weight against the door. He was thinking rapidly. So
+this was the daughter of Benito's partner--the murdered miner of the
+Eldorado tragedy. He recalled the letter from Colton; the hint of
+McTurpin's infatuation and its menace. Things became clear to him
+suddenly. The door gave as he pressed his knee against it. Presently the
+flimsy lock capitulated and he walked into the room. The girl shrank
+back against the farther wall at his approach.
+
+"Oh, come," he said, a trifle testily, "I'm not going to hurt you. Get
+on your hat. I'll see you're taken care of. I'll place you in charge
+of my wife."
+
+"And my father," she begged. "You'll take me to him?"
+
+"Yes, yes, your father," he agreed in haste. "But first you'll come home
+with me."
+
+She snatched up a hat and shawl from the commode, and, with hurried
+movements rearranged her hair; then she followed him submissively into
+the gathering dusk, shrinking close as if to efface herself whenever
+they passed anyone. The streets were full of men now, mostly bound from
+hotels, lodging houses and tents to the Eldorado and kindred resorts.
+Many of them ogled her curiously, for a female figure was a rarity in
+nocturnal San Francisco.
+
+They passed dimly lighted tents in which dark figures bulked grotesquely
+against canvas walls. In one a man seemed to be dancing with a large
+animal which Stanley told her was a grizzly bear.
+
+"They have many queer pets," he said. "One of my neighbors keeps a pet
+coon, and in another tent there are a bay horse, two dogs, two sheep
+and a pair of goats. They sleep with their master like a happy family."
+
+"It is all so strange," said the girl, faintly. "In the East my father
+was a lawyer; we had a good house and a carriage; everything was so
+different from--this. But after my mother died, he grew restless. He
+sold everything and came to this rough, wild country. None of his old
+friends would know him now, with his beard, his boots and the horrible
+red flannel shirt."
+
+Adrian made no reply. He was thinking of the tragic news which must ere
+long be told to Burthen's daughter. For a time they strode along in
+silence--until Stanley paused before an open door. Against the inner
+light which streamed through it into the darkness of the street a
+woman's figure was outlined.
+
+"Well, here we are, at last," said Adrian. "And my wife's in the doorway
+waiting to scold me for being so late."
+
+Inez ran to meet him. "I have been anxious," she declared. She noted her
+husband's companion, and stepped back, startled. "Adrian, who is this?"
+
+"A daughter of the mur----" Adrian began. He broke the telltale word in
+two: "Of James Burthen--Benito's partner."
+
+"Ah, then you know my brother," Inez hailed her eagerly. She took the
+girl's hands in her own and pressed them. "You must tell us all about
+him--quickly. We have waited long for news."
+
+"You are--Mr. Windham's sister?" cried the girl almost incredulously.
+Then, with a swift abandonment to emotion she threw her arms about the
+elder woman's neck and sobbed.
+
+Stanley followed them into the house. He saw Inez supporting her
+companion, soothing her in those mysterious ways which only women know.
+His mind was stirred with grave perplexities.
+
+A peremptory knock aroused him from his cogitations. Could it be the
+gambler so soon? He thought there were voices. Several men, no doubt.
+
+Inez called out in a whisper, "Who is there?"
+
+"Go back," her husband ordered. "It's all right, dear. They're friends
+of mine."
+
+Inez came out quickly and stood beside him, looking up into his face.
+"You're sure? There's no--no danger?"
+
+Again the rat-tat-tat upon the panel, more peremptory than before.
+Stanley forced a laugh. "Danger! Why, of course not. Just a business
+talk. But go back and look after the girl. I don't want her coming out
+here while I've visitors." He patted her hand. His arm about her
+shoulder he ushered her across the threshold of the inner chamber and
+closed the door. Then he extinguished the lamp. Hand on pistol he felt
+his way toward the outer portal and, with a sudden movement flung it
+wide. Three men stood on the threshold. They seemed puzzled by the
+darkness. Out of it the host's voice spoke: "Who are you? What do
+you wish?"
+
+William Henry Brown was first to answer him. "We want you, Adrian, at
+the hotel. Can you come now--quickly?"
+
+"What for?" he asked suspiciously. "Who sent you here?"
+
+"Nobody," came the cheery voice of Dr. Jones. "There's a friend of yours
+at Brown's who needs you."
+
+"You mean--McTurpin?
+
+"Damn McTurpin!" spoke the third voice. It was Nathan Spear's. "Light
+your lamp. Nobody's going to shoot you, Stanley.... It's young Benito
+from the mines and down with fever. He's calling for you ... and for a
+girl named Alice.... If you can pacify him--that will help a lot. He's
+pretty low."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+OUTFACING THE ENEMY
+
+"Wait," said Adrian, hurriedly. He relighted the lamp and, going to the
+inner door, called softly. There was an agitated rustle; then the door
+swung back and Stanley saw the figure of his wife, beside whom stood the
+light-haired girl.
+
+"What is it, Adrian?"
+
+"There's someone sick at Brown's Hotel," said Adrian, "a friend of mine.
+I'm going over there." He made a sign imposing silence on the men.
+
+Inez came close. "You're certain it's no trick," she whispered, "it's
+not McTurpin's scheme to--"
+
+"No, no," he assured her hastily. "I'm sure of that." He seized his hat
+and coat. "Put down the window shades and answer no one's knock till I
+return." He kissed her and without more ado joined the men outside. He
+heard the door shut and lock click into place.
+
+For a time the quartette strode along in silence; then Brown spoke, as
+if the thought had been long on his lips, "Wasn't that--the girl
+McTurpin brought to town?"
+
+"Yes," said Adrian tersely, "it was she."
+
+Brown made no immediate response; he seemed to be digesting Adrian's
+remark. Finally he burst out, "If it's any of my business, what's she
+doing--there?"
+
+"She asked for help," retorted Stanley. He related the incident of the
+veranda. Spear laughed meaningly. "That's the second one you've taken
+from McTurpin; he'll be loving you a heap, old man."
+
+"He doesn't know it yet," Brown said. "But keep out of his way
+tomorrow."
+
+Stanley's teeth met with a little click. "When I've seen Benito, Alec
+McTurpin and I will have a showdown. But tell me of the boy. What
+brought him here?"
+
+"The missing girl, of course," said Dr. James. "He's daft about her.
+Alice Burthen ... that's her name, isn't it?"
+
+Stanley was about to make some rejoinder when they passed two men, one
+of whom looked at them curiously. He was McTurpin's companion of the
+bar-room episode. "Who's that?" asked Spear as Brown saluted the pair.
+
+"That's Reverend Wheeler, the new Baptist parson."
+
+"Yes, yes, I know. But the other one?"
+
+"Ned Gasket ... he's a friend of Dandy Carter's at the Eldorado."
+
+"And a Sydney Duck, I guess," the doctor added.
+
+"Do your own guessing, friend," said Brown, impatiently.
+
+Spear sighed. "We'll have to do more than guess about that stripe of
+citizen if we want law and order. It will take a rope I fear," he
+finished grimly.
+
+Brown led them round the back to a room not far from the one which had
+held Alice Burthen.
+
+"It's quieter here," he explained. "They get noisy sometimes along about
+midnight." He opened the door and struck a sulphur match by whose weird
+flicker they made out a bed with a tossing figure upon it. Adrian
+crossed over and took the nervous clutching hands within his own
+firm clasp.
+
+"Benito," he said. "Don't you know me? It's Adrian!"
+
+Brown with a lighted lamp came nearer, so that Stanley saw the
+sufferer's eyes. They were incognizant of realities. The murmuring voice
+droned on, fretfully, "I've looked for her everywhere. She's
+gone! gone!"
+
+Suddenly he cried out: "Alice! Alice!" half rising. But he tumbled back
+upon the pillow with a swift collapse of weakness and his words waned
+into mumbled incoherence.
+
+"Benito," Adrian addressed him earnestly, "Alice is with me. With me and
+Inez. She's safe. I'll bring her to you in the morning. Do you
+understand?"
+
+"With you--with Inez?" the sick man repeated. "Then tell her to come. I
+want her. Tell Alice to come--"
+
+"Tomorrow," Dr. Jones said, soothingly, "when you've had a chance to
+rest."
+
+"No, tonight," the fevered eyes stared up at them imploringly. Jones
+drew Adrian aside. "Pretend you'll do it or hell wear himself out. Then
+go. I'll give him something that will make him sleep." He emptied a
+powder in a tumbler of water and held it out to the sick man. "Drink
+this," he ordered, "it'll give you strength to see Miss Burthen."
+
+Benito's lips obediently quaffed the drink. His head lay quieter upon
+the pillow. Slowly, as they watched, the eyelids closed.
+
+"And now," said Adrian when he had assured himself that Benito slept,
+"I'm going for McTurpin."
+
+"Don't be a confounded fool," Dr. Jones said quickly.
+
+But Stanley paid no heed. He went directly into the saloon and looked
+about him. At a table, back toward him, sat a stocky figure, playing
+cards and reaching for the rum container at his side. Adrian stood a
+moment, musing; then his right hand slid down to his hip; a forward
+stride and the left hand fell on the player's shoulder.
+
+"We meet once more, McTurpin."
+
+The gambler rose so suddenly that the stool on which he sat rolled over.
+His face was red with wine and rage. His fingers moved toward an
+inner pocket.
+
+"Don't," said Adrian meaningly. The hand fell back.
+
+"What do you want?" the gambler growled.
+
+"A quiet talk, my friend. Come with me."
+
+"And, suppose I refuse?" the other sneered.
+
+"Oh, if you're afraid--" began Adrian.
+
+McTurpin threw his cards upon the table. Between him and a man across
+the board flashed a swift, unspoken message. "I'm at your service,
+Mr.--ah--Stanley."
+
+He led the way out, and Adrian following, gave a quick glance backward,
+noting that the man across the table had arisen. What he did not see was
+that Spear hovered in the offing, following them with watchful eyes.
+
+Toward the north they strolled, past a huddle of tents, for the most
+part unlighted. From some came snores and through many a windblown flap,
+the searching moonlight revealed sleeping figures. On a waste of
+sand-dunes McTurpin paused.
+
+"Now tell me what ye want," he snarled, "and be damned quick about it.
+I've small time to waste with meddlers."
+
+"On this occasion," Stanley said, "you'll take the time to note the
+following facts, Mr. McTurpin, Mr. Pillsworth--or whatever your true
+name may be--I've had a talk with Dandy Carter. He recognized you and
+Gasket when Burthen was killed, in spite of your beard. So did Rosa, of
+course, though she skipped the next morning. The Burthen girl is at my
+house." He paused an instant, thinking that he heard a movement in a
+bush nearby. "Well, that's all," he finished, "except this: If I find
+you here tomorrow, Alec McTurpin, murderer, card-sharp and abductor,
+I'll shoot you down like a dog."
+
+And then, with a splendid piece of bravery, he turned his back on the
+gambler, walking away with never a backward glance. He did not go
+directly home, but walked for an indeterminate interval till his spirit
+was more calm.
+
+The house was dark. Inez had obeyed him by leaving no trace of light.
+Doubtless by now they had retired. Suddenly he started, peered more
+closely at the door he was about to enter.
+
+It was slightly ajar. On the threshold, as he threw it open, Adrian
+found a lace-edged handkerchief. His wife's.
+
+Filled with quick foreboding, he called her name. His voice sounded
+hollow, strange, as if an empty house. Tremblingly he struck a light and
+searched the inner room. The bed had not been slept in. There was no one
+to be seen.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+SHOTS IN THE DARK
+
+Frantically Adrian ran out into the darkness, crying his wife's name.
+His thought went, with swift apprehension, over the events of recent
+hours. The villainous face of Ned Gasket passed before his memory
+mockingly; the meaning look McTurpin gave his henchman at the gaming
+table. Finally, with double force, that movement in the bushes as he
+told the gambler of his former captive's whereabouts. By what absurd
+imprudence had he laid himself thus open to the scoundrel's swift
+attack? What farther whimsy of an unkind Fate had prompted his
+long walk?
+
+Sudden fury flamed in Stanley's heart; it steadied him. The twitching
+fingers on the pistol in his pocket relaxed into a calm and settled
+tension. With long strides he made his way toward Brown's hotel.
+
+There was death in his eyes; men who caught their gleam beneath a
+lamplight, hastily avoided him. That Inez--at this time--should have
+been taken from her home, abducted, frightened or harassed, was the sin
+unpardonable. For it he meant to exact a capital punishment. The law,
+just then, meant to him nothing; only the primitive instinct of an
+outraged man controlled his mind.
+
+At the bar he paused. "Where's McTurpin, where's Gasket?" he demanded,
+harshly.
+
+The bartender observed him with suspicion and uneasiness. "Don't know.
+Haven't seen 'em since they started out with you," he answered.
+
+Stanley left the room without another word.
+
+He struck across the Plaza, entering the Eldorado gambling house. There
+he ordered a drink, gulped it, made, more quietly, a survey of the room.
+He scanned the players carefully. Spear sat at one of the tables, toying
+with a pile of chips and stroking his chin reflectively as he surveyed
+three cards.
+
+"Give me two. Hello, there, Adrian. Good Lord! what's up?"
+
+"Have you seen McTurpin or his friend, Ned Gasket?" He tried to speak
+quietly.
+
+A miner at another table leaned forward. "Try the stalls, pard," he
+whispered, while his left eyelid descended meaningly.
+
+"Wait," cried Spear and laid his cards down hastily. But Adrian was
+already on his way. At the rear were half a dozen small compartments
+where visitors might drink in semi-privacy with women who frequented
+the place.
+
+Adrian made the round of them, flinging aside each curtain as he went.
+Some greeted him with curses for intruding; some with invitations. But
+he did not find the men he sought, until the last curtain was thrown
+back. There sat Gasket and McTurpin opposite Ensenada Rose. She looked
+up impudently as Adrian entered. Into the gambler's visage sprang a
+quick surprise and fear. Instantly he blew out the lamp.
+
+A pistol spoke savagely almost in Adrian's face. He staggered, clasping
+one hand to his head. Something warm ran down his cheek and the side of
+his neck. He felt giddy, stunned. But a dominant impulse jerked his own
+revolver into position and he shot twice--as rapidly as he could operate
+the weapon. The narrow space was chokingly filled with acrid vapor.
+Somewhere a woman screamed; then came a rush of feet.
+
+It seemed to Adrian he had stood for hours in a kind of stupor when a
+light was brought. Gasket lay, his head bowed over on the table and an
+arm flung forward. He was dead. On the floor was a lace mantilla.
+
+Spear reached Adrian's side ahead of the others. "I heard him shoot
+first," he said, so that all might hear him. "Are you hit?"
+
+Adrian's hand went once more to his cheek. "Just a furrow," he said and
+smiled a trifle dazedly. "He fired straight into my face."
+
+"By Harry! He must have. Your cheek's powder-marked," cried Brannan,
+running up and holding the lamp for a better view. "See that, gentlemen?
+They tried to murder Mr. Stanley. This is self-defense. Who fired
+at you?"
+
+"This fellow!" Adrian indicated the sprawled figure. "Must have been. I
+shot at the flash from his gun; then I aimed at McTurpin. I missed him,
+probably."
+
+"Not so sure of that," said Brown, who had come running from his
+hostelry across the square. "Look, here's blood on the floor. A
+trail--let's follow it. Either McTurpin or the woman was hit."
+
+"I tried to avoid her," Adrian said. "I--hope I didn't--"
+
+"Never mind. You were attacked. They're all of a parcel," cried a man
+who wore the badge of a constable. "We've had our eyes on the three of
+them a long time. This fellow," he indicated Gasket, "was one of the
+crowd suspected of the Warren murders. He's the one who killed old
+Burthen. Dandy Carter let it out tonight; he's half delirious. We'd have
+strung him up most probably, if you hadn't--"
+
+"Come," urged Brannan, "let us follow this trail to the wounded. Perhaps
+he or she needs assistance." He held the lamp low, tracing the dark
+spots across an intervening space to the rear entrance; thence to a
+hitching rack where several horses still were tethered. "They mounted
+here," the constable decided. "One horse probably. No telling which it
+was that got the bullet."
+
+Adrian was conscious, suddenly, that his hand still held the pistol. He
+flung it from him with a gesture of repulsion.
+
+"My wife!" he said faintly, "Inez!"
+
+"What d'ye mean?" asked Spear.
+
+"Talk up, man. What's wrong?"
+
+"She's gone--abducted," Stanley answered. "Who'll lend me a horse. I
+must find McTurpin. He knows--"
+
+Unexpectedly Spear complicated matters. "You're mistaken, Stanley. I
+followed when you and he took your walk together. I suspected
+treachery--when Gasket sneaked along behind. I had McTurpin covered when
+you turned your back on him. He came here after that. Both of them have
+been here all the evening."
+
+Stanley put his hand to his head with a bewildered gesture.
+
+"Good God! Then where--? What has become of them?"
+
+"Maybe they got wind of Benito's presence. Maybe they're with him. Let's
+see."
+
+They hurried back to the City Hotel.
+
+"The room's dark," Spear lighted a taper and they softly opened the
+door. Benito slept; beside him drowsed a red-shirted miner slumped upon
+a chair. Adrian shook him, whispering, "Where's Doctor Jones?"
+
+"Don't know," muttered the watcher, sleepily. "This yere is his busy
+night I reckon. Asked me to look after this galoot. Feed him four
+fingers of that pizen if he woke."
+
+His head drooped forward and a buzzing sound came from his open mouth.
+Once more Adrian shook him.
+
+"Didn't he say anything about his destination?"
+
+"His which, pard?"
+
+"Where he was bound," the young man said half angrily.
+
+This time the other sat up straighter. For the first time he really
+awoke and took intelligent cognizance of the situation.
+
+"Now I come to think on it, he's bound for the hill over yonder. Woman
+named Briones come for him at a double quick. Good lookin' Spanish
+wench. She took him by the arm commandin' like. 'You come along,' she
+says and picks up his medicine chest. 'Don't stop for yer hat.' And he
+didn't." He winked heavily, chuckling at the reminiscence.
+
+"Then it isn't Juana Briones that's ill. Perhaps it's her husband."
+
+"Has she got a husband?" asked the miner, disappointedly. "No, I reckon
+'twant him. 'Twas a woman name o' Stanley. I remember now--Goin' to
+have a bebby."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+THE NEW ARRIVAL
+
+"Take my horse," said Brannan, hurriedly. "I'll stay here with Benito."
+He bundled the excited Stanley and Nathan Spear out of the room, where
+Benito still slept under the spell of the doctor's opiate. "You, too,"
+he told the miner, "you've had too much red liquor to play the nurse."
+He closed the door after them.
+
+The young contractor spoke first. "By the eternal, I never thought of
+that! I'm glad she had a woman with her."
+
+He spurred his horse toward Telegraph, Hill, as it had begun to be
+known, since signals were flashed from its crest, announcing the arrival
+of vessels. Down its farther slope was the little rancho of Dona
+Briones, where Inez in her extremity had sought the good friend of her
+childhood.
+
+Adrian's thought leaped forward into coming years. Inez and he together,
+always together as the years passed. And between them a son--intuitively
+he felt that it would be a son--a successor, taking up their burdens as
+they laid them down; bearing their name, their ideals, purposes along,
+down the pageant of time.
+
+He paid little heed as they passed through a huddle of huts, tents and
+lean-tos on the southern ascent. Though the hour was late, many windows
+were light and sounds of revelry came dimly, as though muffled, from
+curtain-hid interiors. There was something furtive and ill-omened about
+this neighborhood which one sensed rather than perceived. Spear rode
+close and touched Adrian's arm.
+
+"Sydney town," he whispered, meaningly. "The hang-out of our convict
+citizens from Australia, those eastern toughs and plug-uglies of the
+Seventh regiment who came here to feather their nests. Do you know what
+they've done? Formed a society called The Hounds. Appropriate, isn't it?
+Your friend McTurpin's one of them. Thanks to you, they've lost a
+valued member."
+
+"Hounds?" said Adrian. His thought still forged ahead. "Oh, yes, I've
+heard about them. They are going to drive out the foreigners."
+
+"Loot them, more likely," Spear returned, disgustedly; "then us, if we
+don't look out. Mark my word, they'll give us trouble. Alcalde
+Leavenworth's too careless by half."
+
+Stanley, paying scant attention, suddenly leaned forward in his saddle.
+At one of the windows a curtain was drawn back; a woman's face appeared
+for a moment silhouetted against inner light; then as swiftly withdrew.
+
+"Who was that?" asked Adrian, involuntarily reining in his mount.
+"Not--"
+
+"Rosa Terranza," said Spear excitedly.
+
+They listened. From within the tent-house came a sound of hasty
+movements, whispering. The light winked out. A bolt was shot;
+then silence.
+
+"I'll bet, by Jupiter, McTurpin's there," cried Adrian.
+
+"And that he's hurt," Spear added. "What shall we do?"
+
+"Let them be," decided Stanley, clucking to his horse. "My duty's
+ahead." He took the steep pitch of the hillside almost at a gallop and
+soon they were descending again into that little settlement of waterside
+and slope called North Beach. Juana Briones' place had been its pioneer
+habitation. Her hospitable gate stood always invitingly open. Through
+the branches of a cypress lights could be seen. The front door stood
+ajar and about it were whispering women. Adrian's heart leaped. Was
+something amiss? He dismounted impetuously, throwing the reins to an
+Indian who had come out evidently to do them service. Spear followed as
+he rushed through the door. There stood Dona Briones, finger on lip,
+demanding silence. Her face was grave.
+
+"How--how is she? How is Inez?" Adrian stammered.
+
+"The doctor's with her. Everything will be all right, I think. But make
+no noise. Go in that room and sit down."
+
+Adrian threw up his hands. "My God, woman! How can I sit still
+when--when--?"
+
+"Walk up and down, then," said Juana, "but take off your shoes."
+
+Which Adrian finally did. It seemed to him that he had paced the tiny
+chamber a thousand times. He heard movements, voices in the next room;
+now and then his wife's moan and the elder woman's soothing accents.
+Then a silence which seemed century long, a silence fraught with
+unimaginable terror. It was broken by a new sound, high pitched, feeble,
+but distinct; the cry of a child. Helplessly Adrian subsided into a
+chair beside Nathan Spear. "Do you hear that?" he asked, mopping
+his forehead.
+
+"Yes, I heard it," said the other non-committally.
+
+"I can't stand this any longer," Adrian exclaimed. "I'm going in there.
+I--I've got to know--"
+
+He rose, determinedly, shaking off Spear's detaining arm. In the doorway
+stood Dr. Jones. Again came the tiny cry. "It's a boy," said the medico,
+and held out his hand.
+
+But Adrian caught him by the shoulders. "My wife?" he asked. "How is
+she? Is there any--"
+
+"Danger? No, it's over," said the doctor. "Sit down and calm yourself."
+
+Adrian relaxed a trifle. Finally his set face softened; he laughed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was the evening of July 14, 1849. Stanley stood over the cradle of
+his son, looking worshipfully down at the tiny sleeping face. Inez
+Stanley, busied with the varied tasks of motherhood, came and stood for
+a moment beside him. She voiced that platitude of wives and mothers in
+their pride: "He looks just like you, Adrian."
+
+Stanley put his hands upon her shoulders. "Got your mouth, your big
+eyes," he said, and kissed her.
+
+They were wont to quarrel tenderly over this. But tonight Inez looked
+seriously up at her husband. Suddenly she hid her face upon
+his shoulder.
+
+"If only--if only--" she whispered, "he wouldn't grow up. And we
+wouldn't grow old."
+
+Stanley's fingers on her hair stroked gently. "Life is life, my dear,"
+he said at last. "Let us not question the inexorable too deeply.
+Yesterday is gone, you know. Tomorrow never comes.... And here we are
+together in the best town in the world. With love, good prospects ...
+our little Francisco--"
+
+"He will live to see a great city," said Inez, comforted. "He will help
+to make it." Her eyes were prophetic. The child stirred and hastily they
+withdrew, lowering the light so that his slumber might be undisturbed. A
+light tap sounded at the door and Adrian answered.
+
+Spear and Brannan with Benito stood upon the threshold. The latter
+entered, kissed his sister and was shown the sleeping child. "How is
+Alice?" Inez asked.
+
+"Well. And the best little wife in the world," Benito answered. His eyes
+glowed happily. "The tiny Francisco is growing like a weed. Only ten
+months old--"
+
+"Nine months, two weeks and three days," said his mother, glibly. "Won't
+you all come in and see the baby?" she invited.
+
+"No," Spear answered. "We must steal your husband for a' little while.
+There's business at the City Hall...."
+
+"Adrian's become a prominent citizen, you know," he added at her look of
+pouting protest.
+
+She brought her husband's hat. "Don't be long," she urged, and smiled a
+good-bye from the threshold. When he heard the door shut, Adrian turned
+on Brannan. "What's up?"
+
+"Plenty," said the other meaningly. "The Hounds have broken out. They
+looted Little Chili about dark tonight and one of them was shot. They
+threaten to burn the foreign quarter. They're arming. There's
+trouble afoot."
+
+"And what do you want of me?" Stanley questioned.
+
+"Damn it! Wake up, man!" cried Spear. "A citizens' committee. We're
+going to enforce the law--if it takes a rope."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+THE CHAOS OF '49
+
+Inez and Alice were returning from church on Sunday, July 15 when they
+encountered a strange, unsabbatical procession; a company of grim and
+tight-lipped citizens marching, rifles over shoulder toward the Bay. At
+their head was William Spofford. Midway of the parade were a dozen
+rough-appearing fellows, manacled and guarded. Among these Inez
+recognized Sam Roberts, gaunt and bearded leader of the hoodlum band
+known as The Hounds or Regulars. From Little Chili, further to the north
+and west, rose clouds of smoke; now and then a leaping tongue of flame.
+
+Presently Benito, musket at shoulder, came marching by and Inez plucked
+at his arm.
+
+"Can't stop now," he told her hurriedly. "We're taking these rogues to
+the sloop Warren. They're to be tried for arson and assault in the
+foreign quarter."
+
+"By the Eternal!" shouted a bystander enthusiastically. "We've got Law
+in San Francisco at last.... Hurrah for Bill Spofford and the Citizens'
+Committee."
+
+"There's Adrian," cried Inez as the rearguard of the pageant passed.
+"Isn't it fine? Alice, aren't you proud?"
+
+But Alice was a practical little body. "They'll be hungry when they come
+home," she averred. "Let us hurry back and get their dinner ready."
+
+[Illustration: Passersby who laughed at the inscription witnessed
+simultaneously the rescue of an almost-submerged donkey by means of an
+improvised derrick.]
+
+The affair of The Hounds was already past history when the gold-seekers,
+hunted from the heights by early snows, returned to San Francisco in
+great numbers. Sara Roberts and his evil band had been deported.
+Better government obtained but there were many other civic problems
+still unsolved. San Francisco, now a hectic, riotous metropolis of
+25,000 inhabitants, was like a muddy Venice, for heavy rains had made
+its unpaved streets canals of oozy mud. At Clay and Kearny streets, in
+the heart of the business district, some wag had placed a
+placard reading:
+
+     THIS STREET IS IMPASSABLE
+       NOT EVEN JACKASSABLE
+
+In which there was both truth and poetry. Passersby who laughed at the
+inscription witnessed simultaneously the rescue of an almost-submerged
+donkey by means of an improvised derrick.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Benito was showing his friend David Broderick, a recent arrival from New
+York, some of San Francisco's sights. "Everything is being used to
+bridge the crossings," said the former laughingly ... "stuff that came
+from those deserted ships out in the bay. Their masts are like a
+forest--hundreds of them."
+
+"You mean their crew deserted during the gold rush?" Broderick inquired.
+
+"Yes, even the skippers and officers in many cases.... See, here is a
+cargo of sieves with which some poor misguided trader overwhelmed the
+market. They make a fair crossing, planted in the mud. And there are
+stepping stones of tobacco boxes--never been opened, mind you--barrels
+of tainted pork and beef. On Montgomery street is a row of cook stoves
+which make a fine sidewalk, though, sometimes the mud covers them."
+
+"And what are those two brigs doing stranded in the mud?" asked
+Broderick.
+
+"Oh, those are the Euphemia and Apollo. They use the first one for a
+jail. That's Geary's scheme. He's full of business. And the second's a
+tavern.... Let's go up to the new post-office. Alice is always eager
+for a letter from her folks in Massachusetts."
+
+They made their way to the new wooden structure at Clay and Pike streets
+where several clerks were busily sorting the semi-weekly mail which had
+just arrived. Hundreds of people stood in long queues before each of the
+windows. "Get in line stranger," said a red-shirted man laughingly.
+"Only seventy-five ahead of us. I counted 'em.... Some have been in line
+since last night I'm told. They're up near the front and holding places
+for others ... getting $20 cash for their time."
+
+Broderick and Benito decided not to wait. They made another journey
+round the town, watching Chinese builders erecting long rows of
+habitations that had come in sections from Cathay. Everywhere was hasty,
+feverish construction--flimsy houses going up like mushrooms over night
+to meet the needs of San Francisco's swiftly augmenting populace.
+
+"It's like a house of cards," said Broderick, who had been a fireman in
+New York. "Lord help us if it ever starts to burn. Even our drinking
+water comes from Sausalito across the Bay."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+RETRIEVING A BIRTHRIGHT
+
+Benito Windham stole from his dwelling, closing the door softly after
+him so Alice, his wife, might not wake. A faint rose dawn colored the
+Contra Costa ridge. From a few of the huts and larger buildings which
+sprinkled San Francisco's hills and hollows so haphazardly, curls of
+blue white wood smoke rose into the windless air. Here and there some
+belated roisterer staggered toward his habitation. But otherwise all was
+still, quicscent. San Francisco slept.
+
+It was the morning of December 24, 1849--the first Christmas eve
+following the gold rush. Windham, who had lain awake since midnight,
+pondered upon this and other things. Events had succeeded each other
+with such riotous activity of late that life seemed more like a dream
+than a reality. His turbulent months at the mines, his high preliminary
+hopes of fortune, their gradual waning to a slow despair; the advent of
+James Burthen and his daughter; then love, his partner's murder and the
+girl's abduction; his pursuit and illness. Alice's rescue and their
+marriage; his return to find the claim covered with snow; finally a
+clerical post in San Francisco.
+
+A sudden distaste for the feverish, riotous town assailed him--a longing
+for the peace and beauty of those broad paternal acres he had lost upon
+the gaming table wrenched his heart.
+
+He pictured Alice in the old rose patio, where his American father had
+wooed his Spanish mother.
+
+Involuntarily his steps turned eastward. At Sacramento and Leidesdorff
+streets he left solid ground to tread a four-foot board above the water,
+to the theoretical line of Sansome street; thence south upon a similar
+foothold to the solid ground of Bush street, where an immense sand-*hill
+with a hollow in its middle, like a crater, struck across the path. Some
+called this depression Thieves Hollow, for in it deserting sailors,
+ticket-of-leave men from Botany Bay prison colony and all manner of
+human riff-raff consorted for nefarious intrigue.
+
+Benito, mounting the slope, looked down at a welter of tents, shacks,
+deck houses and galleys of wrecked ships. He had expected their
+occupants to be asleep, for they were nighthawks who reversed man's
+usual order in the prosecution of nocturnal and ill-favored trades. He
+was astonished to note a general activity. At the portholes of dwellings
+retrieved from the wreck of the sea, unkempt bearded faces stared; smoke
+leaped from a dozen rickety, unstable chimneys, and in the open several
+groups of men and women plied frying pans and coffee pots over
+driftwood fires.
+
+Benito observed them with a covert interest. A black-browed man with a
+shaggy beard and something leonine about him, seemed the master of the
+chief of this godless band. He moved among them, giving orders, and with
+two companions finally ascended to the top. Benito, concealing himself
+behind a scrub oak, watched them, animatedly conversing, as they
+descended and picked their way inland toward the Square. So swift their
+movements and so low their tones he could not make out the tenor of
+their discourse. He caught the words, "like tow," but that was all.
+Musingly, he went on.
+
+Up the broad and muddy path to Market street, thence west again to
+Third, he made his way. Now south to Mission and once more west, a
+favored route for caballeros. Benito had never traveled it before afoot.
+But his horse had succumbed to the rigors of that frantic ride in
+pursuit of Alice and McTurpin several months ago. Mounts were a
+luxury now.
+
+He skirted the edge of a lagoon that stretched from Sixth to Eighth
+streets and on the ascent beyond observed a tiny box-like habitation,
+brightly painted, ringed with flowers and crowned with an imposing
+flagpole from which floated the Star-Spangled Banner. It was a note of
+gay melody struck athwart the discordant monotony of soiled tent houses,
+tumble-down huts and oblong, flat-roofed buildings stretching their
+disorderly array along the road. Coming closer he saw the name,
+"Pipesville," printed on the door, and knew that this must be the
+"summer home," as it was called, of San Francisco's beloved minstrel,
+Stephen Massett, otherwise "Jeems Pipes of Pipesville," singer, player,
+essayist and creator of those wondrous one-man concerts dear to all the
+countryside.
+
+"Jeems" himself appeared in the doorway to wave a greeting and Benito
+went on oddly cheered by the encounter. In front of the Mansion House,
+adjoining Mission Dolores, stood Bob Ridley, talking with his partner.
+
+"You look warm, son," he remarked paternally to Windham, "let me mix you
+up a milk punch and you'll feel more like yourself. Where's your boss
+and whither are ye bound?"
+
+"Died," Benito answered. "Going to my--to the ranch."
+
+"Thought so," Ridley said. "I hear there's no one on it. Why not steal a
+march on that tin-horn gambler and scallawag. Rally up some friends and
+take possession. That's nine points of the law, my boy, and a half-dozen
+straight-shooting Americans is nine hundred more, now that Geary's
+alcalde and that weak-kneed psalm-singing Leavenworth's resigned
+under fire."
+
+"You're sure--there's no one at the place?" Benito questioned.
+
+"Pretty sure. But what's it matter? Everybody knows it's yours by
+rights. Wait," he cried, excitedly. "I'll get horses. Stuart and I will
+go along. We'll pick up six or seven bully boys along the way. Is it
+a go?"
+
+"A go!" exclaimed Benito, his eyes ashine. "You--you're too good, Bob
+Ridley." He pressed the other's hand. "My wife," he mused, "among the
+roses in the patio! The old home, Dear God! Let it come true!"
+
+An hour later ten men galloped through the gate of the Windham rancho.
+No one offered them resistance. It had the look of a place long
+abandoned. Dead leaves and litter everywhere. All of the animals had
+been driven off--sold, no doubt. The hacienda had been ransacked of its
+valuables. It was almost bare of furniture. The rose court, neglected,
+unkempt, brought back a surge of memories. A chimney had fallen; broken
+adobe bricks lay scattered on the grass.
+
+But to Benito it spelled home. For him and for Alice. This should be his
+Christmas gift. Old Antonio, his former major-domo, lingered still in
+San Francisco. He would send him out this very day to set the place in
+order. Tomorrow he and Alice would ride--his brow clouded. He should
+have to borrow two horses. No matter. Tomorrow they would ride--
+
+A startled exclamation from Bob Ridley roused him from his rhapsody.
+
+"Benito, come here! Look! What the devil is that?"
+
+From their eminence the town of San Francisco was plainly visible; tall,
+thin shafts of smoke rising straight and black from many chimneys; the
+blue bay shimmering in the morning sunshine; the curious fretwork
+shadows of that great flotilla of deserted ships. But there was
+something more; something startlingly unnatural; a great pillar of black
+vapor--beneath it a livid red thing that leaped and grew.
+
+"Good God! The town's afire!" cried Benito.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!
+
+Benito's first thought was of Alice. He had left her sleeping. Perhaps
+she had not yet awakened, for the morning was young. Adrian had gone to
+San Jose the previous afternoon. His wife, his sister and her child
+would be alone.
+
+Benito sprang upon his horse; the others followed. In less than half an
+hour they crossed Market street and were galloping down Kearny toward
+the Square. At California street they were halted by a crowd, pushing,
+shouting, elbowing this way and that without apparent or concerted
+purpose. Above the human babel sounded a vicious crackle of burning wood
+like volleys of shots from small rifles. Red and yellow flames shot high
+and straight into the air. Now and then a gust of wind sent the licking
+fire demon earthward, and before its hot breath people fled in panic.
+
+Benito flung his reins to a bystander. He was scarcely conscious of his
+movements; only that he was fighting for breath in a surging,
+suffocating press of equally excited human beings. From this he finally
+emerged, hatless, disheveled, into a small cleared space filled with
+flying sparks and stifling heat. Across it men rushed feverishly
+carrying pails of water. Dennison's Exchange on Kearny street, midway of
+the block facing Portsmouth Square, was a roaring furnace. Flame sprang
+like red, darting tongues from its windows and thrust impertinent
+fingers here and there through the sloping roof.
+
+Somewhere--no one seemed to know precisely--a woman screamed, "My baby!
+Save my baby!" The sound died to a moan, was stilled. Benito, passing a
+bucket along the line, stared, white faced, at his neighbor. "What was
+that?" he asked.
+
+"Quien sabe?" said the other, "hurry along with that pail. The roof's
+falling."
+
+It was true. The shingle-covered space above the burning building
+stirred gently, undulating like some wind-ruffled pond. The mansard
+windows seemed to bow to the watchers, then slowly sink forward. With a
+roar, the whole roof sprang into fire, buckled, collapsed; the veranda
+toppled. Smoke poured from the eight mansard windows of the Parker
+House, next door. South of the Parker House were single-storied
+buildings, one of wood, another of adobe; the first was a restaurant;
+over its roof several foreign-looking men spread rugs and upon them
+poured a red liquid.
+
+"It's wine," Bob Ridley said. "But they'll never save it. Booker's store
+is going, too. Looks like a clean sweep of the block."
+
+Broderick's commanding figure could be seen rushing hither and thither.
+"No use," Benito heard him say to one of his lieutenants. "Water won't
+stop it. Not enough.... Is there any powder hereabouts?"
+
+"Powder!" cried the other with a blanching face. "By the Eternal, yes! A
+store of it is just around the corner. Mustn't let the fire reach--"
+
+Broderick cut him short. "Go and get it. You and two others. Blow up or
+pull down that building," he indicated a sprawling ramshackle structure
+on the corner.
+
+"But it's mine," one of the fire-fighters wailed. "Cost me ten thousand
+dollars--"
+
+Fiercely Broderick turned upon him. "It'll cost the town ten millions if
+you don't hurry," he bellowed. "You can't save it, anyhow. Do you want
+the whole place to burn?"
+
+[Illustration: Broderick's commanding figure was seen rushing hither and
+thither.... "You and two others. Blow up or pull down that building," he
+indicated a sprawling, ramshackle structure.]
+
+"All right, all right, Cap. Don't shoot," the other countered with a
+sudden laugh. "Come on, boys, follow me." Benito watched him and the
+others presently returning with three kegs. They dived into the building
+indicated. Presently, with the noise of a hundred cannon, the corner
+building burst apart. Sticks and bits of plaster flew everywhere. The
+crowd receded, panic-stricken.
+
+"Good work!" cried the fire marshal.
+
+It seemed, indeed, as though the flames were daunted. The two small
+structures were blazing now. The Parker House, reeling drunkenly,
+collapsed.
+
+Unexpectedly a gust of wind sent fire from the ruins of Dennison's
+Exchange northward. It reached across the open space and flung a rain of
+sparks down Washington street toward Montgomery. Instantly there came an
+answering crackle, and exasperated fire-fighters rushed to meet the
+latest sortie of their enemy. Once more three men, keg laden, made their
+way through smoke and showering brands. Again the deafening report
+reverberated and the crowd fell back, alarmed.
+
+Someone grasped Benito's arm and shook it violently. He turned and
+looked into the feverishly questioning eyes of Adrian Stanley.
+
+"I've just returned," the other panted. "Tell me, is all well--with
+Inez? The women?"
+
+"Don't know," said Benito, half bewildered. The woman's wail for a lost
+child leaped terrifyingly into his recollection. His hand went up as if
+to ward off something. "Don't know," he repeated. "Wasn't home
+when--fire started."
+
+It came to him weirdly that he was talking like a drunken man; that
+Adrian eyed him with a sharp disfavor. "Where the devil were you, then?"
+
+"At the ranch," he answered. Suddenly he laughed. It all seemed very
+funny. He had meant to give his wife a Christmas present; later he had
+ridden madly to her rescue, yet here he was passing buckets in a fire
+brigade. And Adrian, regarding him with suspicion, accusing him silently
+with his eyes.
+
+"You take the pail," he cried. "You fight the fire." And while Stanley
+looked puzzledly after him, Benito charged through a circle of
+spectators up the hill. He did not know that his face was almost black;
+that his eyebrows and the little foreign moustache of which they had
+made fun at the mines was charred and grizzled. He knew only that Alice
+might be in danger. That the fire might have spread west as well as east
+and north.
+
+As he sped up Washington street another loud explosion drummed against
+his ears. A shout followed it. Benito neither knew nor cared for its
+significance. Five minutes later he stumbled across his own doorsill,
+calling his wife's name. There was no answer. Frenziedly he shouted
+"Alice! Alice!" till at last a neighbor answered him.
+
+"She and Mrs. Stanley and the baby went to Preacher Taylor's house. Is
+the fire out?"
+
+"No," returned Benito. Once more he plunged down hill, seized a bucket
+and began the interminable passing of water. He looked about for Adrian
+but did not see him. He became a machine, dully, persistently,
+desperately performing certain ever-repeated tasks.
+
+Hours seemed to pass. Then, of a sudden, something interrupted the
+accustomed trend. He held out his hands and no bucket met it. With a
+look of stupid surprise he stared at the man behind him. He continued to
+hold out his hand.
+
+"Wake up," cried the other, and gave him a whack across the shoulders.
+"Wake up, Benito, man. The fire's out."
+
+Robert Parker, whose hotel was a litter of smoking timbers, and Tom
+Maguire, owner of what once had been the Eldorado gambling house, were
+discussing their losses.
+
+"Busted?" Parker asked.
+
+"Cleaned!" Maguire answered.
+
+"Goin' to rebuild?"
+
+"Yep. And you?"
+
+"Sartin. Sure. Soon as I can get the lumber and a loan."
+
+"Put her there, pard."
+
+Their hands met with a smack.
+
+"That's the spirit of San Francisco," Ridley remarked. "Well we've
+learned a lesson. Next time we'll be ready for this sort of thing.
+Broderick's planning already for an engine company."
+
+"I reckon," Adrian commented as he joined the group, "a vigilance
+committee is what we need even more."
+
+To this Benito made no answer. Into his mind flashed a memory of the
+trio that had left Thieves' Hollow at daybreak.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+POLITICS AND A WARNING
+
+Benito Windham rose reluctantly and stretched himself. It was very
+comfortable in the living-room of the ranch house, where a fire crackled
+in the huge stone grate built by his grandfather's Indian artisans. Many
+of the valuable tapestries imported from Spain had been removed by
+McTurpin during his tenure, but even bare adobe walls were cheerful in
+the light of blazing logs, and rugs of native weave accorded well with
+the simple mission furniture. In a great chair that almost swallowed her
+sat Alice, gazing dreamily into the embers. Family portraits hung upon
+the wall, and one of these, stiff and haughty in the regimentals of a
+soldado de cuero, seemed to look down upon the domestic picture with a
+certain austere benignity. This was the painting of Francisco Garvez of
+hidalgo lineage, who had stood beside Ortega, the Pathfinder, when that
+honored scout of Portola had found the bay of San Francisco and the
+Golden Gate.
+
+"Carissima, how he would have loved you, that old man!" Benito's tone
+was dreamy.
+
+Alice Windham turned. "You are like him, Benito," she said fondly.
+"There is the same flash in your eye. Come, sit for awhile by the fire.
+It's so cosy when it storms."
+
+Benito kissed her. "I would that I might, but today there is an election
+in the city," he reminded. "I must go to vote. Perhaps I can persuade
+the good Broderick to dine with us this evening; or Brannan--though he
+is so busy nowadays. Often I look about unconsciously for Nathan Spear.
+It seems impossible that he is dead."
+
+"He was 47, but he seemed so young," commented Alice. She rose hastily.
+"You must be very careful, dear," she cautioned, with a swift anxiety,
+"of the cold and wet--and of the hoodlums. They tell me there are many.
+Every week one reads in the _Alta_ that So-and-So was killed at the
+Eldorado or the Verandah. Never more than that. In my home in the East
+they would call it murder. There would be a great commotion; the
+assassin would be hanged."
+
+"Ah, yes; but this is a new country," he said, a little lamely.
+
+"Will there never be law in San Francisco?" Alice asked him,
+passionately. "I have not forgotten--how my father died."
+
+Benito's face went suddenly white. "Nor I," he said, with an odd
+intensity; "there are several things ... that you may trust me ... to
+remember."
+
+"You mean," she queried in alarm, "McTurpin?"
+
+Benito's mood changed. "There, my dear." He put an arm about her
+shoulders soothingly. "Don't worry. I'll be careful; neither storm nor
+bullets shall harm me. I will promise you that."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Early as it was in the day's calendar--for San Francisco had no knack of
+rising with the sun--Benito found the town awake, intensely active when
+he picked his way along the edge of those dangerous bogs that passed for
+business streets. Several polling places had been established. Toward
+each of them, lines of citizens converged in patient single-file
+detachments that stretched usually around the corner and the length of
+another block. Official placards announced that all citizens of the
+United States were entitled to the ballot and beneath one of these, a
+wag had written with white chalk in a large and sprawling hand:
+
+"No Chinese Coolies in Disguise Need Apply."
+
+No one seemed to mind the rain, though a gale blew from the sea, causing
+a multitude of tents to sway and flap in dangerous fashion. Now and
+then a canvas habitation broke its moorings and went racing down the
+hill, pursued by a disheveled and irate occupant, indulging in the most
+violent profanity.
+
+At Kearny and Sacramento streets Benito, approaching the voting station,
+was told to get in line by Charley Elleard, the town constable. Elleard
+rode his famous black pony. This pony was the pet of the town and had
+developed a sagacity nearly human. It was considered wondrous sport to
+give the little animal a "two-bit" piece, which it would gravely hold
+between its teeth and present to the nearest bootblack, placing its
+forefeet daintily upon the footrests for a "shine."
+
+As he neared the polls in the slow succession of advancing voters,
+Benito was beset by a rabble of low-voiced, rough-dressed men, who
+thrust their favorite tickets into his hands and bade him vote as
+indicated, often in a threatening manner. Raucously they tried to cry
+each other down. "Here's for Geary and the good old council," one would
+shout. "Geary and his crowd forever."
+
+"We've had the old one too long," a red-shirted six-footer bellowed.
+"Fresh blood for me. We want sidewalks and clean streets."
+
+This provoked a chorus of "Aye! Aye! That's the ticket, pard," until a
+satirical voice exclaimed, "Clean streets and sidewalks! Gor a'mighty.
+He's dreamin' o' Heaven!"
+
+A roar of laughter echoed round the town at this sally. It was repeated
+everywhere. The campaign slogan was hastily dropped.
+
+At the polling desk Benito found himself behind a burly Kanaka sailor,
+dark as an African.
+
+"I contest his vote," cried one of the judges. "If he's an American, I'm
+a Hottentot."
+
+"Where were you born?" asked the challenging judge of election.
+
+"New York," whispered a voice in the Kanaka's ear, and he repeated the
+word stammeringly. "Where was your father born?" came the second
+question, and again the word was repeated. "What part of New York?"
+
+"New York, New York." The answer was parrot-like. Someone laughed.
+
+"Ask him what part of the Empire State he hails from?" suggested
+another. The question was put in simpler form, but it proved too much
+for the Islander. He stammered, stuttered, waved his hand uncertainly
+toward the ocean. Perceiving that he was the butt of public jest, he
+broke out of the line and made off as fast as his long legs could
+transport him.
+
+The man whose whispered promptings had proved unavailing, fell sullenly
+into the background, after venomous glance at the successful objector.
+Benito caught his eyes under the dripping crown of a wide-brimmed slouch
+hat. They seemed to him vaguely familiar. Almost instinctively his hand
+sought the pocket in which his derringer reposed. Then, with a laugh, he
+dismissed the matter. He had no quarrel with the fellow; that murderous
+look was aimed at Henry Mellus, not at him. So he cast his ballot
+and went out.
+
+Opposite the Square he paused to note the progress of rehabilitation in
+the burned area. It was less than a fortnight since he had stood there
+feverishly passing buckets of water in a fight against the flames, but
+already most of the evidences of conflagration were hidden behind the
+framework of new buildings. The Eldorado announced a grand opening in
+the "near future"; Maguire's Jenny Lind Theater notified one in
+conspicuous letters, "We Will Soon Be Ready for Our Patrons, Bigger and
+Grander Than Ever."
+
+Benito nodded to Robert Parker, whose hotel was rising, phoenix-like
+from its ashes.
+
+"Things are coming along," he said with a gesture toward the buildings.
+"Have you seen anything of Dave Broderick?"
+
+Parker shook the rain-drops from his hat. "Saw him going toward the
+Bella Union," he replied. "They say he's as good as elected. A fine
+State senator he'll make, too." Taking Benito's arm, he walked with him
+out of earshot of those nearby.
+
+"Benito," his tone was grave. "They tell me you've resumed possession of
+your ranch."
+
+"Yes," confirmed the younger. "Half a dozen of my old servants are there
+with Mrs. Windham and myself. I've bought a little stock on credit and
+all's going well."
+
+For a moment Parker said nothing; then, almost in Benito's ear, he spoke
+a warning: "Do you know that McTurpin is back?"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+ON THE TRAIL OF McTURPIN
+
+Benito, in a mood of high excitement, strode uphill toward the Bella
+Union, pondering the significance of Parker's startling information.
+
+So McTurpin had come back.
+
+He had been about to ask for further details when one of the hurrying
+workmen called his informant away. After all it did not matter much just
+how or when the gambler had returned. They were sure to meet sooner or
+later. Once more Windham's hand unconsciously sought the pistol in his
+pocket. At the entrance of the Bella Union he halted, shook the rain
+from his hat, scraped the mud from his feet upon a pile of gunnysacks
+which served as doormats, and went into the brilliant room. Since the
+temporary closing of the Eldorado, this place had become the most
+elegant and crowded of the city's gaming palaces. A mahogany bar
+extended the length of the building; huge hanging lamps surrounded by
+ornate clusters of prisms lent an air of jeweled splendor which the
+large mirrors and pyramids of polished glasses back of the counter
+enhanced. On a platform at the rear were several Mexican musicians in
+rich native costumes twanging gaily upon guitars and mandolins. Now and
+then one of them sang, or a Spanish dancer pirouetted, clicking her
+castanets and casting languishing glances at the ring of auditors about
+her. These performers were invariably showered with coins. Tables of all
+sizes filled the center of the room from the long roulette board to the
+little round ones where drinks were served. Faro, monte, roulette, rouge
+et noir, vingt-un, chuck-a-luck and poker: each found its disciples;
+now and then a man went quietly out and another took his place; there
+was nothing to indicate that he had lost perhaps thousands of dollars,
+the "clean-up" of a summer of hardships at the mines. A bushy bearded
+miner boasted that he had won $40,000 and lost it again in an hour and a
+half. Henry Mellus offered him work as a teamster and the
+other accepted.
+
+"Easy come, easy go," he commented philosophically and, lighting his
+pipe from one of the sticks of burning punk placed at intervals along
+the bar, he went out.
+
+In an out-of-the-way corner, where the evening's noise and activity
+ebbed and flowed a little more remotely, Benito discovered Broderick
+chewing an unlighted cigar and discussing the probabilities of election
+with John Geary. They hailed him cordially, but in a little while Geary
+drifted off to learn further news of the polls.
+
+"And how is the charming Mrs. Windham?" asked Broderick.
+
+"Well and happy, thank you," said Benito. "She loves the old place.
+Cannot you dine with us there tonight?"
+
+"With real pleasure," Broderick returned. "In this raw, boisterous place
+a chance to enjoy a bit of home life, to talk with a high-bred woman is
+more precious than gold."
+
+Benito bowed. "It is not often that we have a Senator for a guest," he
+returned, smiling.
+
+Broderick placed a hand upon his shoulder almost paternally. "I hope
+that is prophetic, Benito," he said. "I'm strangely serious about it.
+This town has taken hold of me--your San Francisco."
+
+They turned to greet Sam Brannan, now a candidate for the ayuntamiento
+or town council. "How goes it, Sam?" asked Broderick.
+
+"Well enough," responded Brannan. He looked tired, irritated. "There's
+been a conspiracy against us by the rowdy element, but I think we've
+beaten them now."
+
+Broderick's brow clouded. "We need a better government; a more
+effective system of police, Sam," he said, striking his first against
+the table.
+
+"What we need," said Brannan, "is a citizens' society of public safety;
+a committee of vigilance. And, mark my word, we're going to have 'em.
+There's more than one who suspects the town was set afire last
+December."
+
+"But," said Broderick, "mob rule is dangerous. The constituted
+authorities must command. They are the ones to uphold the law."
+
+"But what if they don't?" Brannan's aggressive chin was thrust forward.
+"What then?"
+
+"They must be made to; but authority should not be overthrown. That's
+revolution."
+
+"And where, may I ask, would human liberty be today if there'd never
+been a revolution?" Brannan countered.
+
+Benito left them. He had no stomach for such argument, though he was to
+hear much more of it in years to come. Suddenly he recalled the man who
+had tried to coach the Kanaka; who had glared so murderously at Mellus.
+Those eyes had been familiar; something about them had made him grip his
+pistol, an impulse at which afterward he had laughed. But now he knew
+the reason for that half-involuntary action. Despite the beard and
+mustache covering the lower portion of his face completely; despite the
+low-pulled hat, the disguising ulster, he knew the man.
+
+McTurpin.
+
+The hot Spanish temper which he had never entirely mastered, flamed like
+a scorching blast across Benito's mind. He saw again McTurpin smiling as
+he won by fraud the stake at cards which he had laid against Benito's
+ranch; he seemed to hear again the gambler's sneering laugh as he, his
+father and Adrian had been ambushed at the entrance of his home; in his
+recollection burned the fellow's insult to his sister; the abduction of
+Alice, his wife; the murder of his partner. He was certain that
+McTurpin had somehow been at the bottom of it. Swiftly he was lost to
+all reason. He took the weapon from his pocket, examined it carefully to
+make certain that the caps were unimpaired by moisture. Then he
+set forth.
+
+At the polling station he made casual inquiries, but the ballot-box
+stuffer for some time had not been seen.
+
+"Charley Elleard ran him off, I think," said Frank Ward, laughing. "He'd
+have voted Chinamen and Indians if he'd had his way. But if you're
+looking for the rascal try the gambling house at Long Wharf and
+Montgomery street; that's where his kind hang out."
+
+Later in the spring of 1850 Montgomery street was graded. Now it was a
+sloping streak of mud, the western side of which was several feet above
+the other. Where Long Wharf, which was to be cut through and called
+Commercial street, intersected, or rather bisected Montgomery, stood a
+large building with a high, broad roof. Its eaves projected over a row
+of benches, and here, sheltered somewhat from the rain, a group of
+Mexicans and Chilenos lounged in picturesque native costumes, smoking
+cigarettes. Through the door came a rollicking melody--sailor tunes
+played by skillful performers--and a hum of converse punctuated by the
+click of chips and coin. Benito entered. The room was blue with
+cigarette smoke, its score of tables glimpsed as through a fog. Sawdust
+covered the floor and men of all nationalities mingled quietly enough at
+play of every kind. A stream of men came and went to and from the gaming
+boards and bar.
+
+Benito ordered a drink, and surveyed the room searchingly. The man he
+sought was not in evidence. "Is McTurpin here?" he asked the bartender.
+
+If that worthy heard, he made no answer; but a slight, agile man with
+sly eyes looked up from a nearby table, "What d'ye want of him,
+stranger?"
+
+An arrogant retort sprang to Benito's lips, but he checked it. He bent
+toward the questioner confidentially. "I've news for Alec," he
+whispered; "news he ought to know--and quickly."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+THE SQUATTER CONSPIRACY
+
+Instantly the slight man rose. He had narrow eyes, shrewd and
+calculating and the sinuous motions of a contortionist. Linking his arm
+with Benito's, he smiled, disclosing small, discolored teeth. There was
+something ratlike about him, infinitely repellant. "Come, I'll tyke ye
+to 'im," he volunteered.
+
+But this did not suit Benito's purpose. "I must go alone," he said
+emphatically.
+
+The other eyed him with suspicion. "Then find him alone," he countered,
+sullenly. But a moment later he was plucking at Benito's elbow. "What's
+it all abaout, this 'ere news? Cawn't ye tell a fellow? Give me an
+inklin'; trust me and I'll trust you; that's business."
+
+Benito hesitated. "It's about the ranch," he returned at a venture.
+
+"Ow, the rawnch. Well, you needn't 'ave been so bloody sly about it.
+Alec isn't worried much abaout the rawnch. 'E's bigger fish to fry. But
+you can see 'im if you wants. 'E's at the Broken Bottle Tavern up in
+Sydney Town."
+
+They had a drink together; then Benito parted from his informant,
+ruminating over what the little man, so palpably a "Sydney Duck,"
+had told him.
+
+Benito surveyed his reflection in a glass. In his rain-bedraggled attire
+he might pass for one of the Sydney Ducks himself. His boots were
+splashed with mud, his scrape wrinkled and formless. He pulled the
+dripping hat into a disheveled slouch, low down on his forehead.
+McTurpin had not seen him with a beard, had failed to recognize him at
+the polling station. Benito decided to risk it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+One of the largest and most pretentious of Sydney Town's "pubs," or
+taverns, was The Broken Bottle, kept by a former English pugilist from
+Botany Bay. He was known as Bruiser Jake, could neither read nor write
+and was shaped very much like a log, his neck being as large as his
+head. It was said that the Australian authorities had tried to hang him
+several times, but failed because the noose slipped over his chin and
+ears, refusing its usual function. So he finally had been given a
+"ticket of leave" and had come to California. Curiously enough the
+Bruiser never drank. He prided himself on his sobriety and the great
+strength of his massive hands in which he could squeeze the water out of
+a potato. Ordinarily he was not quarrelsome, though he fought like a
+tiger when aroused.
+
+Benito found this worthy behind his bar and asked for a drink of English
+ale, a passable quality of which was served in the original imported
+bottles at most public houses.
+
+The Bruiser watched him furtively with little piglike eyes. "And who
+might ye be, stranger?" he asked when Benito set down his glass.
+
+"'Awkins--that's as good a nyme as another," said Benito, essaying the
+cockney speech. "And what ye daon't know won't 'urt you, my friend." He
+threw down a silver piece, took the bottle and glass with him and sat
+down at a table near the corner. Hard by he had glimpsed the familiar
+broad back of McTurpin.
+
+At first the half-whispered converse of the trio at the adjoining table
+was incomprehensible to his ears, but after a time he caught words,
+phrases, sentences.
+
+First the word "squatters" reached him, several times repeated; then,
+"at Rincon." Finally, "the best lots in the city can be held."
+
+After that for a time he lost the thread of the talk. An argument
+arose, and, in its course, McTurpin's voice was raised incautiously.
+
+"Who's to stop us?" he contended, passionately. "The old alcalde grants
+aren't worth the paper they're written on. Haven't squatters
+dispossessed the Spaniards all over California? Didn't they take the San
+Antonio ranch in Oakland, defend it with cannon, and put old Peralta in
+jail for bothering them with his claims of ownership?" He laughed. "It's
+a rare joke, this land business. If we squat on the Rincon, who'll
+dispossess us? Answer me that."
+
+"But it's government ground. It's leased to Ted Shillaber," one
+objected.
+
+"To the devil with Shillaber," McTurpin answered. "He won't know we're
+going to squat till we've put up our houses. And when he comes we'll
+quote him squatter law. He can buy us off if he likes. It'll cost him
+uncommon high. He can fight us in the courts and we'll show him squatter
+justice. We've our friends in the courts, let me tell you."
+
+"Aye, mayhap," returned a lanky, red-haired sailor, "but there's them o'
+us, like you and me and Andy, yonder, what isn't hankerin' for courts."
+
+McTurpin leaned forward, and his voice diminished so that Benito could
+scarcely hear his words. "Don't be afraid," he said. "I've got my men
+selected for the Rincon business, a full dozen of 'em ... all with clean
+records, mind ye. Nothing against them." He pounded the table with his
+fist by way of emphasis. "And when we've done old Shillaber, we'll come
+in closer. We'll claim lots that are worth fifty thou--" He paused. His
+tone sank even lower, so that some of his sentence was lost.
+
+It was at this juncture that Benito sneezed. He had felt the approach of
+that betraying reflex for some minutes, but had stifled it. Those who
+have tried this under similar circumstances know the futility of such
+attempts; know the accumulated fury of sound with which at length
+bursts forth the startling, terrible and irrepressible
+
+"Ker-CHEW!"
+
+McTurpin and his two companions wheeled like lightning. "Who's this?"
+the gambler snarled. He took a step toward the Bruiser. "Who the devil
+let him in to spy on us?"
+
+"Aw, stow it, Alec!" said the former fighter. "'E's no spy. 'E's one o'
+our lads from the bay. Hi can tell by 'is haccent."
+
+Benito rose. His hand crept toward the derringer, but McTurpin was
+before him. "Don't try that, blast you!" he commanded. "Now, my friend,
+let's have a look at you.... By the Eternal! It's young Windham!"
+
+"The cove you don hout o' his rawnch?" asked the Bruiser, curiously.
+
+"Shut up, you fool!" roared the gambler. His face was white with fury.
+"What are you doing here?" he asked Benito.
+
+"Getting some points on--er--land holding," said Windham. He was
+perfectly calm. Several times this man had overawed, outwitted, beaten
+him. Now, though he was in the enemy's country, surrounded by cutthroats
+and thieves, he felt suddenly the master of the situation. Perhaps it
+was McTurpin's dismay, perhaps the spur of his own danger. He knew that
+there was only one escape, and that through playing on McTurpin's anger.
+"A most ingenious scheme, but it'll fail you!"
+
+"And why'll it fail, my young jackanapes?" the gambler blazed at him.
+"Do you reckon I'll let you go to give the alarm?"
+
+It was then Benito threw his bombshell. It was but a shrewd guess. Yet
+it worked amazingly. "Your plan will fail," he said with slow
+distinctness, "because Sam Brennan and Alcalde Geary know you set the
+town afire. Because they're going to hang you."
+
+Rage and terror mingled in McTurpin's face. Speechless, paralyzing
+wrath that held him open-mouthed a moment. In that moment Windham acted
+quickly. He hurled the bottle, still half full of ale, at his
+antagonist, missed him by the fraction of an inch and sent the missile
+caroming against the Bruiser's ear, thence down among a pyramid of
+glasses. There was a shivering tinkle; then the roar as of a maddened
+bull. The Bruiser charged. Windham shot twice into the air and fled. He
+heard a rending crash behind him, a voice that cried aloud in mortal
+pain, a shot. Then, silence.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+"GROWING PAINS"
+
+On the morning of February 28, 1850, Theodore Shillaber, with a number
+of friends, made a visit to the former's leased land on the Rincon,
+later known as Rincon Hill. Here, on the old government reserve, whose
+guns had once flanked Yerba Buena Cove, Shillaber had secured a lease on
+a commanding site which he planned to convert into a fashionable
+residence section. What was his surprise, then, to find the scenic
+promontory covered with innumerable rickety and squalid huts. A tall and
+muscular young fellow with open-throated shirt and stalwart, hirsute
+chest, swaggered toward him, fingering rather carelessly, it seemed to
+Shillaber, the musket he held.
+
+"Lookin' for somebody, stranger?" he inquired, meaningly.
+
+Shillaber, somewhat taken aback, inquired by what right the members of
+this colony held possession.
+
+"Squatter's rights," returned the large youth, calmly, and spat
+uncomfortably near to Shillaber's polished boots.
+
+"And what are squatter's rights, may I ask?" said Shillaber, striving to
+control his rising temper.
+
+The youth tapped his rifle barrel. "Anyone that tries to dispossess
+us'll soon find out," he returned gruffly, and, turning his back on the
+visitors, he strode back toward his cabin.
+
+"Wait," called Shillaber, red with wrath, "I notify you now, in the
+presence of witnesses that if you and all your scurvy crew are not gone
+bag and baggage within twentyfour hours, I'll have the authorities
+dispossess you and throw you into jail for trespassing."
+
+The large young man halted and presented a grinning face to his
+threatener. He did not deign to reply, but, as though he had given a
+signal, shrill cackles of laughter broke out in a dozen places.
+
+Shillaber, who was a choleric man, shook his fist at them. He was too
+angry for speech.
+
+Shillaber had more than his peck of trouble with the Sydney Ducks that
+roosted on his land. He sent the town authorities to dispossess them,
+but without result. There were too many squatters and too few police.
+Next he sent an agent to collect rents, but the man returned with a sore
+head and bruised body, minus coin. Shillaber was on the verge of
+insanity. He appealed to everyone from the prefect to the governor. In
+Sydney Town his antics were the sport of a gay and homogeneous
+population and at the public houses one might hear the flouted landlord
+rave through the impersonations of half a dozen clever mimics. At The
+Broken Bottle a new boniface held forth. Bruiser Jake had mysteriously
+disappeared on the evening of election. And with him had vanished Alec
+McTurpin, though a sly-eyed little man now and then brought messages
+from the absent leader.
+
+In the end Shillaber triumphed, for he persuaded Captain Keyes,
+commander at the Presidio, that the squatters were defying Federal law.
+Thus, one evening, a squad of cavalry descended upon the Rincon
+squatters, scattering them like chaff and demolishing their flimsy
+habitations in the twinkling of an eye. But this did not end
+squatterism. Some of the evicted took up claims on lots closer in. A
+woman's house was burned and she, herself, was driven off. Another woman
+was shot while defending her husband's home during his absence.
+
+Meanwhile, San Francisco's streets had been graded and planked. The old
+City Hall, proving inadequate, was succeeded by a converted hotel. The
+Graham House, a four-story wooden affair of many balconies, at Kearny
+and Pacific streets, was now the seat of local government.
+
+For it the council paid the extraordinary sum of $150,000, thereby
+provoking a storm of newspaper discussion. Three destructive fires had
+ravaged through the cloth and paper districts, and on their ashes more
+substantial structures stood.
+
+There was neither law nor order worthy of the name. Only feverish
+activity. A newsboy who peddled Altas on the streets made $40,000 from
+his operations; another vendor of the Sacramento Union, boasted $30,000
+for his pains. A washerwoman left her hut on the lagoon and built a
+"mansion." Laundering, enhanced by real estate investments, had given
+her a fortune of $100,000.
+
+Social strata were not yet established. Caste was practically unknown.
+Former convicts married, settled down, became respected citizens.
+Carpenters, bartenders, laborers, mechanics from the East and Middle
+West, became bankers, Senators, judges, merchant princes and promoters.
+
+White linen replaced red flannel, bowie knives and revolvers were
+sedately hidden beneath frock coats, the vicuna hat was a substitute for
+slouch and sombrero.
+
+But, under it all, the fierce, restless heart of San Francisco beat on
+unchanged. In it stirred the daring, the lawless adventure, the feverish
+ambition and the hair-trigger pride of argonauts from many lands. And in
+it burned the deviltry, brutality, licentiousness and greed of criminal
+elements freed from the curb of legal discipline.
+
+David Broderick discussed it frequently with Alice Windham. He had
+fallen into a habit of coming to the ranch when wearied by affairs of
+state. He was a silent, brooding man, robbed somehow of his national
+heritage, a sense of humor, for he had Irish blood. He was a man of
+fire, implacable as an enemy, inalienable as a friend. And to Alice, as
+she sat embroidering or knitting before the fire, he told many of his
+dreams, his plans. She would nod her head sagely, giving him her eyes
+now and then--eyes that were clear and calm with understanding.
+
+Thus Alice came to know what boded for the town of San Francisco.
+"Benito," she said one night, when Broderick had gone, "Benito, my
+dearest, will you let me stir you--even if it wounds?" She came up
+behind him quickly; put her arms about his neck and leaned her golden
+head against his own. "We are sitting here too quietly ... while life
+goes by," her tone was wistful. "You, especially, Benito. Outside teems
+the world; the gorgeous, vibrant world of which our David speaks."
+
+"What do you want me to do?" he asked, stirring restlessly, "go into
+business? Make money--like Adrian?"
+
+"No, no," she nestled closer. "It isn't money that I crave. We are happy
+here. But"--she looked up at the portrait of Francisco Garvez, and
+Benito followed her glance. "What would he have you do?"
+
+"I promised him in thought," her husband said, "that I would help to
+build the city he loved. It was a prophecy," his tone grew dreamy, "a
+prophecy that he and his--the Garvez blood--should always stir in San
+Francisco's heart." Swiftly he rose and, standing very straight before
+the picture, raised his right hand to salute. "You are right," he said.
+"He would have wanted me to be a soldier."
+
+But Alice shook her head. "The conquest is over," she told him. "San
+Francisco needs no gun nor saber now. In our courts and legislatures lie
+the future battlegrounds for justice. You must study law, Benito.... I
+want"--quick color tinged her face--"I want my--son to have a
+father who--"
+
+"Alice!" cried Benito. But she fled from him. The door of her bedroom
+closed behind her. But it opened again very softly--"who makes his
+country's laws," she finished, fervently.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI
+
+THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEE
+
+About 8 o'clock on the evening of February 19, 1851, two men entered the
+store of C.J. Jansen & Co., a general merchandise shop on Montgomery
+street. The taller and older presented a striking figure. He was of such
+height that, possibly from entering many low doorways, he had acquired a
+slight stoop. His beard was long and dark, his hair falling to the
+collar, was a rich and wavy brown. He had striking eyes, an aquiline
+nose and walked with a long, measured stride. Charles Jansen, alone in
+the store, noted these characteristics half unconsciously and paid
+little attention to the smaller man who lurked behind his companion in
+the shadows.
+
+"Show me some blankets," said the tall man peremptorily. Jansen did not
+like his tone, nor his looks for that matter, but he turned toward a
+shelf where comforters, sheets and blankets were piled in orderly array.
+As he did so he heard a quick step behind him; the universe seemed to
+split asunder in a flash of countless stars. And then the world
+turned black.
+
+Hours afterward his partner found him prone behind the counter, a great
+bleeding cut on his head. The safe stood open and a hasty examination
+revealed the loss of $2,000 in gold dust and coin. Jansen was revived
+with difficulty and, after a period of delirium, described what had
+occurred. The next morning's Alta published a sensational account of the
+affair, describing Jansen's assailant and stating that the victim's
+recovery was uncertain.
+
+As Adrian, Benito and Samuel Brannan passed the new city hall on the
+morning of February 22, they noticed that a crowd was gathering. People
+seemed to be running from all directions. Newsboys with huge armfuls of
+morning papers, thrust them in the faces of pedestrians, crying, "Extra!
+Extra! Assassins of Jansen caught." Adrian tossed the nearest lad a
+two-bit piece and grasped the outstretched sheet. It related in heavy
+blackfaced type the arrest of "two scoundrelly assassins," one of whom,
+James Stuart, a notorious "Sydney Duck," was wanted in Auburn for the
+murder of Sheriff Moore. This was the man identified by Jansen. He
+claimed mistaken identity, however, insisting that his name was
+Thomas Berdue.
+
+"They'll let him go on that ridiculous plea, no doubt," remarked
+Brannan, wrathfully. "There are always a dozen alibis and false
+witnesses for these gallows-birds. It's time the people were doing
+something."
+
+"It looks very much as though we _were_ doing something," said Benito,
+with a glance at the gathering crowd.
+
+There were shouts of "Lynch them! Bring them out and hang them to a
+tree!" Someone thrust a handbill toward Benito, who grasped it
+mechanically. It read:
+
+     CITIZENS OF SAN FRANCISCO
+
+     The series of murders and robberies that have been committed
+     in the city seems to leave us entirely in a state of anarchy.
+     Law, it appears, is but a nonentity to be sneered at; redress
+     can be had for aggression but through the never-failing
+     remedy so admirably laid down in the Code of Judge Lynch.
+
+     All those who would rid our city of its robbers and murderers
+     will assemble on Sunday at 2 o'clock on the Plaza.
+
+"This means business," commented Adrian grimly. "It may mean worse
+unless their temper cools. I've heard this Stuart has a double. They
+should give him time--"
+
+"Bosh!" cried Brannan, "they should string him up immediately." He
+waved the handbill aloft. "Hey, boys," he called out loudly, "let us go
+and take them. Let us have a little justice in this town."
+
+"Aye, aye," cried a score of voices. Instantly a hundred men rushed up
+the stairs and pushed aside policemen stationed at the doors. They
+streamed inward, hundreds more pushing from the rear until the court
+room was reached. There they halted suddenly. Angry shouts broke from
+the rear. "What's wrong ahead? Seize the rascals. Bring them out!"
+
+But the front rank of that invading army paused for an excellent reason.
+They faced a row of bayonets with determined faces behind them. Sheriff
+Hayes had sensed the brewing troubles and had brought the Washington
+Guards quietly in at a rear entrance.
+
+So the crowd fell back and the first mob rush was baffled. Outside the
+people still talked angrily. At least a thousand thronged the court
+house, surrounding it with the determined and angry purpose of letting
+no one escape. Mayor Geary made his way with difficulty through the
+press and urged them to disperse. He assured them that the law would
+take its proper course and that there was no danger of the prisoners'
+release or escape. They listened to him respectfully but very few left
+their posts. Here and there speakers addressed the multitude.
+
+The crowd, the first fever abated, had resolved itself into a
+semi-parliamentary body. But no real leader had arisen. And so it
+arrived at nothing save the appointment of a committee to confer with
+the authorities and insure the proper guarding of the prisoners. Brannan
+was one of these and Benito another.
+
+"Windham's getting to be a well-known citizen," said a bystander to
+Adrian, "I hear he's studying law with Hall McAllister. Used to be a
+dreamy sort of chap. He's waking up."
+
+"Yes, his wife is at the bottom of it," Stanley answered.
+
+Sunday morning 8,000 people surrounded the courthouse. Less turbulent
+than on the previous day, their purpose was more grimly certain.
+
+Mayor Geary's impressive figure appeared on the balcony of the court
+house. He held out a hand for silence and amid the hush that followed,
+spoke with brevity and to the point.
+
+"The people's will is final," he conceded, "but this very fact entails
+responsibility, noblesse oblige! What we want is justice, gentlemen.
+Now, I'll tell you how to make it sure. Appoint a jury of twelve men
+from among yourselves. Let them sit at the trial with the presiding
+judge. Their judgment shall be final. I pledge you my word for that."
+
+He ceased and again the crowd began murmuring. A tall, smooth-shaven
+youth began to talk with calm distinctness.
+
+There was about him the aspect of command. People ceased their talk to
+listen. "I move you, gentlemen," he shouted, "that a committee of twelve
+men be appointed from amongst us to retire and consider this situation
+calmly. They shall then report and if their findings are approved, they
+shall be law."
+
+"Good! Good!" came a chorus of voices. "Hurray for Bill Coleman. Make
+him chairman."
+
+Coleman bowed. "I thank you, gentlemen," he said, then crisply, like so
+many whip-cracks, he called the names of eleven men. One by one they
+answered and the crowd made way for them. Silently and in a body
+they departed.
+
+"There's a leader for you," exclaimed Adrian to his brother-in-law.
+Benito nodded, eyes ashine with admiration. Presently there was a stir
+among the crowd. The jury was returning. "Well, gentlemen," the mayor
+raised his voice, "what is the verdict?"
+
+Coleman answered: "We recommend that the prisoners be tried by the
+people. If the legal courts wish to aid they're invited. Otherwise we
+shall appoint a prosecutor and attorney for the prisoners. The trial
+will take place this afternoon."
+
+"Hurray! Hurray!" the people shouted. The cheers were deafening.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+THE PEOPLE'S JURY
+
+Benito, as he elbowed his way through a crowd which ringed the city hall
+that afternoon, was impressed by the terrific tight-lipped determination
+of those faces all about him. It was as though San Francisco had but one
+thought, one straight, relentless purpose--the punishment of crime by
+Mosaic law. The prisoners in the county jail appeared to sense this wave
+of retributive hatred, for they paced their cells like caged beasts.
+
+It was truly a case of "The People vs. Stuart (alias Berdue) and
+Windred," charged with robbery and assault. Coleman and his Committee of
+Twelve were in absolute charge. They selected as judges, three popular
+and trusted citizens, J.R. Spence, H.R. Bowie and C.L. Ross. W.A. Jones
+was named the judge's clerk and J.E. Townes the whilom sheriff.
+
+While the jury was impaneling, Brannan spoke to Benito: "Twelve good men
+and true; the phrase means something here. Lord, if we could have such
+jurymen as these in all our American courts."
+
+Benito nodded. "They've appointed Bill Coleman as public prosecutor;
+that's rather a joke on Bill."
+
+Judge Spence, who sat between his two colleagues, presiding on the
+bench, now spoke:
+
+"I appoint Judge Shattuck and--er--Hall McAllister as counsel for the
+defendants."
+
+There was a murmur of interest. Judge Shattuck, dignified, a trifle
+ponderous, came forward, spectacles in hand. He put them on, surveyed
+his clients with distaste, and took his place composedly at the table.
+Hall McAllister, dapper, young and something of a dandy, advanced with
+less assurance. He would have preferred the other side of the case, for
+he did not like running counter to the people.
+
+Amid a stir the prisoners were led forward to the dock. Judge Spence,
+looking down at them over his spectacles, read the charges. "Are you
+guilty or not guilty?" he asked.
+
+Windred, the younger, with a frightened glance about the court room,
+murmured almost inaudibly, "Not guilty." The other, in a deep and
+penetrating voice, began a sort of speech. It was incoherent, agonized.
+Benito thought it held a semblance of sincerity.
+
+"Always, your honor," he declared, "I am mistaken for that scoundrel;
+that Stuart.... I am a decent man ... but what is the use? I say it's
+terrible...."
+
+"Judge" Spence removed his eyeglasses and wiped them nervously; "does
+anyone in the courtroom recognize this man as Thomas Berdue?"
+
+There was silence. Then a hand rose. "I do," said the voice of a
+waterfront merchant. "I've done business with him under that name."
+
+Immediately there was an uproar. "A confederate," cried voices. "Put him
+out." A woman's voice in the background shrieked out shrilly, "Hang
+him, too!"
+
+McAllister rose. "There must be order here," he said, commandingly and
+the tumult subsided. McAllister addressed Berdue's sponsor. "Can you
+bring anyone else to corroborate your testimony?"
+
+The merchant, red and angry, cried: "It's nothing to me; hang him and be
+damned--if you don't want the truth. I'm not looking for trouble." He
+turned away but the prisoner called to him piteously. "Don't desert me.
+Find Jones or Murphy down at the long wharf. They'll identify me....
+Hurry! Hurry! ... or they'll string me up!"
+
+"All right," agreed the other reluctantly. He left the court room and
+Judge Shattuck moved a postponement of the case.
+
+"Your honor," William Coleman now addressed the court, "this is no
+ordinary trial. Ten thousand people are around this courthouse. They are
+there because the public patience with legal decorum is exhausted;
+however regular and reasonable my colleague's plea might be in ordinary
+circumstances, I warn you that to grant it will provoke disorder."
+
+Judge Shattuck, startled, glanced out of the window and conferred with
+Hall McAllister.
+
+"I withdraw my petition," he said hurriedly. The case went on.
+
+Witnesses who were present when the prisoners were identified by Jansen
+gave their testimony. There was little cross-examination, though
+McAllister established Jansen's incomplete recovery of his mental
+faculties when the men were brought before him. Coleman pointed out the
+striking appearance of the older prisoner; there was little chance to
+err he claimed in such a case. The record of James Stuart was then dwelt
+upon; a history black with evil doing, red with blood. The jury retired
+with the sinister determined faces of men who have made up their minds.
+
+Meanwhile, outside, the crowd stood waiting, none too patiently. Now and
+then a messenger came to the balcony and shouted out the latest aspect
+of the drama being enacted inside. The word was caught up by the first
+auditor, passed along to right and left until the whole throng knew and
+speculated on each bit of information.
+
+Adrian, caught in the outer eddies of that human maelstrom, found
+himself beside Juana Briones. "The jury's out," she told him. "Jury's
+out!" the word swept onward. Then there came a long and silent wait.
+Once again the messenger appeared. "Still out," he bellowed, "having
+trouble." "What's the matter with them?" a score of voices shouted.
+Presently the messenger returned. His face was angry, almost apoplectic.
+One could see that he was having difficulty with articulation. He waved
+his hands in a gesture of impotent wrath. At last he found his voice and
+shouted, "Disagreed. The jury's disagreed."
+
+An uproar followed. "Hang the jury!" cried an irate voice. A rush was
+made for the entrance. But two hundred armed, determined men opposed the
+onslaught. The very magnitude of the human press defeated its own ends.
+Men cried aloud that they were being crushed. Women screamed.
+
+Soon or late the defenders must have fallen. But now a strange diversion
+occurred. On the balcony appeared General Baker, noted as the city's
+greatest orator. In his rich, sonorous tones, he began a political
+speech. It rang even above the excited shouts of the mob. Instantly
+there was a pause, an almost imperceptible let-down of the tension.
+Those who could not see asked eagerly of others, "What's the matter now?
+Who's talking?"
+
+"It's Ed Baker making a speech."
+
+Someone laughed. A voice roared. "Rah for Ed Baker." Others took it up.
+
+Impulsive, variable as the wind, San Francisco found a new adventure. It
+listened spellbound to golden eloquence, extolling the virtues of a
+favored candidate. Meanwhile Acting Sheriff Townes rushed his prisoners
+to the county jail without anyone so much as noticing their departure.
+
+Presently three men came hurrying up and with difficulty made their way
+into the court room.
+
+"Good God! Are we too late?" the leader of the trio asked, excitedly. He
+was the waterfront merchant who had recognized Berdue.
+
+"Too late for the trial," returned Coleman; "it's over; the jury's
+dismissed. Disagreed."
+
+"And what are they doing outside?" cried the other, "are they hanging
+the prisoners?"
+
+"No, the prisoners are safe," returned Coleman, "though they had a
+close enough shave, I'll admit." He laid a hand upon Benito's shoulder
+and there came a twinkle to his eyes. "Our young friend here had an
+inspiration--better than a hundred muskets. He sent Ed Baker out to
+charm them with his tongue."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII
+
+THE RECKONING
+
+It was June on the rancho Windham. Roses and honeysuckle climbed the
+pillars and lattices of the patio; lupin and golden poppies dotted the
+hillsides. Cloud-plumes waved across the faultless azure of a California
+summer sky and distant to the north and east, a million spangled flecks
+of sunlight danced upon the bay.
+
+David Broderick sat on a rustic bench, his eyes on Alice Windham. He
+thought, with a vague stirring of unrecognized emotion that she seemed
+the spirit of womanhood in the body of a fay.
+
+"A flower for your thoughts," she paraphrased and tossed him a rose.
+Instinctively he pressed it to his lips. He saw her color rise and
+turned away. For a moment neither spoke.
+
+"My thoughts," he said at length, "have been of evil men and trickery
+and ambition. I realize that, always, when I come here--when I see you,
+Alice Windham. For a little time I am uplifted. Then I go back to my
+devious toiling in the dark."
+
+A shadow crossed her eyes, but a smile quickly chased it away. "You are
+a fine man, David Broderick," she said, "brave and wonderful and strong.
+Why do you stoop to--"
+
+"To petty politics?" his answering smile was rueful. "Because I must--to
+gain my ends. To climb a hill-top often one must go into a valley.
+That is life."
+
+"No, that is sophistry," her clear, straight glance was on him
+searchingly. "You tell me that a statesman must be first a politician;
+that a politician must consort with rowdies, ballot-box stuffers,
+gamblers--even thieves. David Broderick, you're wrong. Women have their
+intuitions which are often truer than men's logic." She leaned forward,
+laid a hand half shyly on his arm. "I know this much, my friend: As
+surely as you climb your ladder with the help of evil forces, just so
+surely will they pull you down."
+
+It was thus that Benito came upon them. "Scolding Dave again?" He
+questioned merrily, "What has our Lieutenant-Governor been doing now?"
+
+"Consorting with rowdies, gamblers, ballot-box stuffers--not to mention
+thieves, 'twould seem," said Broderick with a forced laugh. Alice
+Windham's eyes looked hurt. "He has accused himself," she said
+with haste.
+
+"You're always your own worst critic, Dave," Benito said. "I want to
+tell you something: The Vigilance Committee forms this afternoon."
+
+The other's eyes flashed. "What is that to me?" he asked, with some
+asperity.
+
+"Only this," retorted Windham. "The committee means business; it's going
+to clean up the town--" Broderick made as if to speak but checked his
+utterance. Benito went on: "I tell you, Dave, you had better cut loose
+from your crowd. Some of them are going to get into trouble. You can't
+afford to have them running to you--calling you their master."
+
+He took from his pocket a folded paper. "We've been drafting a
+constitution, Hall McAllister and I." He read the rather stereotyped
+beginning. Broderick displayed small interest until Benito reached the
+conclusion:
+
+     WE ARE DETERMINED THAT NO THIEF, BURGLAR, INCENDIARY OR
+     ASSASSIN SHALL ESCAPE PUNISHMENT EITHER BY THE QUIBBLES OF
+     THE LAW, THE INSECURITY OF PRISONS, THE CARELESSNESS AND
+     CORRUPTION OF POLICE OR A LAXITY OF THOSE WHO PRETEND TO
+     ADMINISTER JUSTICE.
+
+"And do you mean," asked Broderick, "that these men will take the law
+into their own hands; that they'll apprehend so-called criminals and
+presume to mete out punishment according to their own ideas of justice?"
+
+"I mean just that," returned Benito.
+
+"Why--it's extraordinary," Broderick objected. "It's mob law--organized
+banditti."
+
+"You'll find it nothing of the sort," cried Windham hotly.
+
+"How can it be otherwise?' asked Broderick. What's to prevent rascals
+taking advantage of such a movement--running it to suit themselves?
+They're much cleverer than honest, men; more powerful.... Else do you
+think I'd use my political machine? No, no, Benito, this is
+farce--disaster."
+
+"Read this, then," urged Benito, and he thrust into the other's hand a
+list of some two hundred names. Broderick perused it with growing
+gravity. It represented the flower of San Francisco's business and
+professional aristocracy, men of all political creeds, religious, social
+affiliations.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A few days afterward Broderick conferred with his lieutenants. Word went
+forth that he had cut his leading strings to city politics. Rumors of a
+storm were in the air. When it would break no one could say with
+certainty. The Committee of Vigilance had quietly established quarters
+on Battery street near Pine, where several secret meetings had been held
+and officers elected. These were not made known. Members were designated
+by numerals instead of names. Some said they wore masks but this was an
+unproven rumor.
+
+Broderick, brooding on these things one afternoon, was suddenly aware of
+many people running. He descried a man hastening down Long Wharf toward
+the bay. "Stop thief!" some one shouted. Others took it up. Broderick
+found himself running, too, over the loose boards of the wharf, in
+pursuit of the fleeing figure. The fugitive ran rapidly, despite a large
+burden slung over his shoulder. Presently he disappeared from view. But
+soon they glimpsed him in a boat, rowing lustily away.
+
+A dozen boats set out in chase. Shots rang out. "He's thrown his bundle
+in the water," someone cried. "He's diving," called another. A silence,
+then "We've got him," came a hail exultingly.
+
+Ere long a dripping figure surrounded by half a dozen captors, was
+brought upon the wharf. "He stole a safe from Virgin & Co.," Broderick
+was told. "The Vigilantes have him. They'll hang him probably. Come
+along and see the show."
+
+"But where are the police?" asked Broderick. The man laughed
+contemptuously. "Where they always are--asleep," he answered, and
+went on.
+
+Others brought the news that John Jenkins, an Australian convict, was
+the prisoner. He had several times escaped the clutches of the "law." He
+seemed to treat the whole proceeding as a bit of horseplay, joking
+profanely with his captors, boasting of his crimes.
+
+At 10 o'clock the Monumental fire bell struck several deep-toned notes
+and fifteen minutes later eighty members of the Vigilance Committee had
+assembled. The door was locked. A constable from the police department
+knocked upon it long without avail. Everything was very still about the
+building; even the crowd which gathered there to await developments
+conversed in whispers.
+
+At midnight several cloaked forms emerged, walking rapidly up the
+street. Then the California fire engine bell began to toll. James King
+of William, a local banker, leaving Vigilante quarters almost collided
+with Broderick. "What does that mean?" the latter asked; he pointed to
+the tolling bell.
+
+"It means," King answered, solemnly, "that Jenkins is condemned to
+death. He'll be executed on the Plaza in an hour."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV
+
+THE HANGING OF JENKINS
+
+Mayor Brenham pushed his way forward. "Did I understand you rightly, Mr.
+King?" he questioned. "This committee means to lynch a man--to
+murder him?"
+
+King turned upon him fiery-eyed. "I might accuse you of a hundred
+murders, sir, with much more justice. Where are your police when our
+citizens are slain? What are your courts but strongholds of political
+iniquity?" He raised his arm and with a dramatic gesture, pointed toward
+the city hall. "Go, Mayor Brenham, rouse your jackals of pretended
+law.... The people have risen. At the Plaza in an hour you shall see
+what Justice means."
+
+Several voices cheered. Brenham, overwhelmed, inarticulate before this
+outburst, turned and strode away. Broderick walked on thoughtfully. It
+was evident that the people were aroused past curbing. As he neared the
+city hall, Constable Charles Elleard approached him anxiously.
+
+"There's going to be trouble, isn't there?" he asked. "What shall we do?
+We've less than a hundred men, Mr. Broderick. Perhaps we could get
+fifty more."
+
+"Whatever happens, don't use firearms," Broderick cautioned. "One shot
+will set the town afire tonight." He came closer to the officer and
+whispered, "Make a show of interference, that's all.... If possible see
+that Sheriff Hayes' pistols don't go off.... You understand? I know
+what's best."
+
+Elleard nodded. Broderick went on. Soon he heard the tramp of many feet.
+A procession headed by men bearing torches, was proceeding down the
+street toward the Plaza. As they neared he saw Jenkins, hands tied
+behind his back, striding along in the midst of his captors. A rope was
+about his neck; it extended for a hundred feet behind him, upheld by
+many hands.
+
+Diagonally across the Plaza the procession streamed. At the flagstaff a
+halt was made. Samuel Brannan mounted a sand-heap and addressed
+the crowd.
+
+"I have been deputed by the Vigilance Committee," he began, "to tell you
+that John Jenkins has been fairly tried; he was proven guilty of grand
+larceny and other crimes." He paused dramatically. "The sentence of the
+People's Court is death through hanging by the neck. It will be executed
+here at once, with your approval. All who are in favor of the
+committee's action, will say 'Aye.'"
+
+"Aye! Aye!" came a thunder of voices, mingled with a few desultory
+"noes." Sheriff Jack Hayes rode up importantly on his prancing black
+charger. "In the name of the law I command this proceeding to cease."
+
+"In the name of what law?" mocked Brannan, "the law you've been giving
+us for six months past?"
+
+A roar of laughter greeted this retort. The sheriff, red-faced, held up
+a hand for silence. "I demand the prisoner," he shouted.
+
+Instantly there was a quiet order. Fifty men in soldierly formation
+surrounded Jenkins. "Take him, then," a voice said pleasantly. It was
+William Coleman's. The guards of the forward ranks threw back their
+cloaks, revealing a score of business-like short-barrelled shotguns.
+
+Before this show of force, the gallant Hayes retreated, baffled. He was
+a former Texan ranger, fearless to a fault; but he was wise enough to
+know when he was beaten.
+
+"I've orders not to shoot," he said, "but I warn you that all who
+participate in this man's hanging will be liable for murder."
+
+Again came Brannan's sneer. "If we're as safe as the last hundred men
+that took human life in this town, we've nothing to fear." Again a
+chorus of derision. The sheriff turned, outraged, on his tormentor. "You
+shall hear from me, sir," he said indignantly, and wheeling his horse,
+he rode off.
+
+"String him up on the flagpole," suggested a bystander. But this was
+cried down with indignation. Several members who had been investigating
+now advanced with the recommendation that the hanging take place at the
+south-end of the old Custom House.
+
+"We can throw the rope over a beam," cried a tall man. He was one of
+those who had pursued and caught Jenkins on the bay. Now he seized the
+rope and called, "Come on, boys."
+
+There was a rush toward the southwest corner of the Plaza, so sudden
+that the hapless prisoner was jerked off his feet and dragged over the
+ground. When the improvised gallows was reached he was half strangled,
+could not stand. Several men supported him while others tossed the rope
+across the beam. Then, with a shout, he was jerked from his feet into
+space. His dangling figure jerked convulsively for a time, hung limp.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+After the inquest Brannan met William Coleman at Vigilante headquarters.
+"They were very hostile," he declared; "the political gang is hot on our
+trail. They questioned me as to the names on our committee. I told them
+we went by numbers only," he laughed.
+
+"There have been threats, veiled and open," said Coleman, soberly. "King
+has lost several good banking accounts and my business has fallen off
+noticeably. Friends have advised me to quit the committee--or worse
+things might happen."
+
+Brannan took a folded paper from his pocket; it was a printed scrawl
+unsigned, which read:
+
+"Beware; or your house will be burned. We mean business."
+
+A newsboy hurried down the street crying an extra on the inquest.
+Brannan snatched one from his hand and the two men perused it eagerly.
+The finding, couched in usual verbiage, recited the obvious facts that
+Jenkins, alias Simpson, perished by strangulation and that "an
+association of citizens styling themselves a Committee of Vigilance,"
+was responsible.
+
+"Eight of us are implicated, besides myself," said Brannan finally,
+"they'll start proceedings probably at once."
+
+"And they'll have the courts to back their dirty work," added Coleman,
+thoughtfully. "That will never do," his teeth shut with a little click.
+"I'm going to the _Herald_ office."
+
+"What for?" asked Brannan, quickly.
+
+"To publish the full list of names," Coleman responded. "We're all in
+this together; no group must bear the brunt."
+
+"But," objected Brannan, "is that wise?"
+
+"Of course.... in union there is strength. These crooks will hesitate to
+fight two hundred leading citizens; if they know them all they can't
+pick out a few for persecution."
+
+"Well, I'll go along," said Brannan. "Eh, what's that? What's happened
+now?"
+
+The Monumental engine bell was tolling violently. Coleman listened. "Its
+not a fire," he declared, "it's the Vigilante signal. We'll wait here."
+
+A man came running toward them from the bay. "They've captured James
+Stuart," he shouted. "Bludgeoned a captain on his ship but the man's
+wife held on to him and yelled till rescue came."
+
+"But Stuart's in the Auburn jail, awaiting execution for the murder of
+the sheriff," Coleman said bewildered.
+
+"No," cried the man, "this is the real one. The other's Tom Berdue, his
+double."
+
+"Then there'll be another hanging," Coleman muttered.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV
+
+THE PEOPLE AND THE LAW
+
+Frightened, desperate, angered by the usurpation of their power, varied
+forces combined in opposition to the Vigilance Committee. Political
+office-holders, good and bad, were naturally arrayed against it, and for
+the first time made a common cause. Among the politicians were many men
+of brains, especially those affiliated with the "Chivalry" faction, as
+it was known--Southern men whose object it was to introduce slavery into
+California. These were fiery, fearless, eloquent and quick at stratagem.
+There was also Broderick's Tammany organization, an almost perfect
+political machine, though as yet in the formative stage. There was the
+tacit union of the underworld; gamblers, thieves, plug-uglies, servitors
+of or parasites upon the stronger factions. Each and all they feared and
+hated this new order of the Vigilantes.
+
+Coleman's scheme of publishing the names of the entire committee was
+carried out after a meeting of the executive committee. It had the
+effect of taking the wind out of their opponents' sails for a time. But
+it also robbed committee members of a certain security. In a dozen dark
+and devious ways the Vigilantes were harassed, opposed; windows of shops
+were broken; men returning to their homes were set upon from ambush;
+long-standing business accounts were diverted or withdrawn. Even
+socially the feud was felt. For the Southerners were more or less the
+arbiters of society. Wives of Vigilante members were struck from
+invitation lists in important affairs. Whispers came to them that if
+their husbands were persuaded to withdraw, all would be well.
+
+A few, indeed, did hand their resignations to the committee, but more
+set their names with eagerness upon its roster.
+
+The hanging of James Stuart was impressive and conducted with extreme
+decorum. Stuart, tried before twelve regularly impaneled talesmen and
+defended by an advocate, cut matters short by a voluntary confession of
+his crimes. In fact, he boasted of them with a curious pride. Arson,
+murder, robbery, he admitted with a lavishness which first aroused a
+doubt as to his sanity and truth, but when in many of the cases he
+recited details which were later verified, all doubt as to his evil
+triumphs vanished.
+
+On the morning of July 11 he was sentenced. In the afternoon his body
+swung from a waterfront derrick at Battery and Market streets.
+
+"Get it over with," he urged his executioners, "this 'ere's damned
+tiresome business for a gentleman." He begged a "quid o' terbacker" from
+one of the guards and chewed upon it stolidly until the noose tightened
+about his neck. He did not struggle much. A vagrant wind blew off his
+hat and gently stirred his long and wavy hair.
+
+When Benito next saw Broderick he asked the latter anxiously if all were
+well with him. The latter answered with a wry smile, "I suppose so. I
+have not been ordered to leave town so far."
+
+"You've remembered what we told you--Alice and I?"
+
+"Yes," said Broderick, "and it was good advice. Tell your wife for me
+that woman's intuition sometimes sees more clearly than man's
+cunning.... It is nearer God and truth," he added, softly.
+
+"I shall tell her that. 'Twill please her," Benito replied. "You must
+come to see us soon."
+
+Brannan joined them rather anxiously and drew Benito aside with a
+brusque apology. "Do you know that Governor McDougall has issued a
+proclamation condemning the Vigilance Committee?... I happen to know
+that Broderick inspired this." He gave a covert glance over his
+shoulder, but the Lieutenant-Governor had wandered off. "So far he's
+taken no part against us. And we've left him alone. Now we shall
+strike back."
+
+"I shall advise against it," Windham objected. "Dave is honest. He's
+played fair."
+
+"If you think we're going to let this pass, you're quite mistaken,"
+Brannan answered, hotly. "Why, its not long ago that Governor McDougall
+came to our committee room and commended our work. Said he hoped we'd
+go on."
+
+"Exactly," said Benito, "in the presence of witnesses. Let us see if
+King and Coleman are inside. I have a plan."
+
+They found their tall and quiet leader with James King of William and
+half a dozen others already in session. Brannan, in fiery anger, read
+the Governor's proclamation. There was silence when he finished.
+Possibly a shade of consternation. "Windham's got a scheme to answer
+him," said Brannan.
+
+That day the _Evening Picayune_ printed the Committee's defn. It was as
+follows:
+
+     San Francisco, Aug. 20, 1851.
+
+     "We, the undersigned, do hereby aver that Governor McDougall
+     asked to be introduced to the executive committee of the
+     Committee of Vigilance, which was allowed and hour fixed. The
+     Governor, upon being introduced, states THAT HE APPROVED OF
+     THE ACTS OF THE COMMITTEE and that much good had taken place.
+     He HOPED THEY WOULD GO ON and endeavor to act in concert with
+     the authorities, AND IN CASE ANY JUDGE WAS GUILTY OF
+     MAL-ADMINISTRATION TO HANG HIM and he would appoint others."
+
+To this was appended the names of reputable citizens--men whose
+statements no one doubted. It was generally conceded, with a laugh, that
+Governor McDougall's private opinion differed from his sense of
+public duty.
+
+That afternoon representatives of the Committee met an incoming vessel
+and examined the credentials of all passengers. Several of these not
+proving up to standard, they were denied admittance to the port. The
+outraged captain blustered and refused to take them back to Sydney. But
+in the end he agreed. There was nothing else to do. A guard was placed
+on the non-desirables and maintained until the vessel cleared--until the
+pilot boat returned in fact. San Francisco applauded.
+
+But all the laurels were not with the Committee. On Thursday morning,
+August 21, Sheriff Hayes surprised Vigilante Headquarters at dawn and
+captured Samuel Whitaker and Robert McKenzie both convicted of murder by
+the Committee and sentenced to hang.
+
+The City Government was much elated but the victory was short. For, on
+the following Sunday, Vigilantes gained an entrance to the jail and took
+their prisoners back without a struggle.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Broderick and Windham, en route to the latter's ranch that afternoon,
+heard the Monumental bell toll slowly, solemnly. "What's up?" asked
+Broderick, startled.
+
+"It means," Benito answered, "that the Vigilance Committee still rules.
+Two more scoundrels have been punished."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI
+
+FEVERS OF FINANCE
+
+Four years had passed since the Vigilance Committee ceased active
+labors. Some said they preserved a tacit organization; theirs was still
+a name to conjure with among evil doers, but San Francisco, grown into a
+city of some 50,000, was more dignified and subtle in its wickedness.
+Politics continued notoriously bad. Comedians in the new Metropolitan
+Theatre made jokes about ballot-boxes said to have false bottoms, and
+public officials who had taken their degrees in "political economy" at
+Sing Sing.
+
+"Honest Harry" Meiggs and his brother, the newly-elected City
+Controller, had sailed away on the yacht "American," leaving behind them
+an unpaid-for 2000-foot wharf and close to a million in debts; forged
+city warrants and promissory notes were held by practically every large
+business house in San Francisco.
+
+It was concerning this urbane and gifted prince of swindlers that Adrian
+Stanley talked with William Sherman, manager of the banking house of
+Turner, Lucas & Company.
+
+Sherman, once a lieutenant in the United States Army, had returned,
+after an Eastern trip, as a civilian financier. In behalf of St. Louis
+employers, he had purchased of James Lick a lot at Jackson and
+Montgomery streets, erecting thereon a $50,000 fire-proof building. The
+bank occupied the lower floor; a number of professional men had their
+offices on the second floor; on the third James P. Casey, Supervisor,
+journalist and politician, maintained the offices of _The Sunday Times_.
+He passed the two men as they stood in front of the bank and shouted a
+boisterous "hello." Adrian, ever courteous and good-natured, responded
+with a wave of the hand while Sherman, brusk and curt, as a habit of
+nature and military training, vouchsafed him a short nod.
+
+"I have small use for that fellow," he remarked to Stanley, "even less
+than I had for Meiggs." The other had something impressive about him,
+something almost Napoleonic, in spite of his dishonesty. If business had
+maintained the upward trend of '51 and '52, Meiggs would have been a
+millionaire and people would have honored him--"
+
+"You never trusted 'Honest Harry,' did you?" Stanley asked.
+
+"No," said Sherman, "not for the amount he asked. I was the only banker
+here that didn't break his neck to give the fellow credit. I rather
+liked him, though. But this fellow upstairs," he snapped his fingers,
+"some day I shall order him out of my building."
+
+"Why?" asked Adrian curiously. "Because of his--"
+
+"His alleged prison record?" Sherman finished. "No. For many a good
+man's served his term." He shrugged. "I can't just tell you why I feel
+like that toward Jim Casey. He's no worse than the rest of his clan; the
+city government's rotten straight through except for a few honest judges
+and they're helpless before the quibbles and intricacies of law." He
+took the long black cigar from his mouth and regarded Adrian with his
+curious concentration--that force of purpose which was one day to list
+William Tecumseh Sherman among the world's great generals. "There's
+going to be the devil to pay, my young friend," he said, frowning,
+"between corruption, sectional feuds and business depression ..."
+
+"What about the report that Page, Bacon & Company's St. Louis house has
+failed?" said Stanley in an undertone. Sherman eyed him sharply.
+"Where'd you hear that?" he shot back. And then, ere Adrian could
+answer, he inquired, "Have you much on deposit there?"
+
+"Ten thousand," replied the young contractor.
+
+For a moment Sherman remained silent, twisting the long cigar about
+between grim lips. Then he put a hand abruptly on the other's shoulder.
+"Take it out," he said, "today."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Somewhat later Sherman was summoned to a conference with Henry Haight,
+manager of the banking house in question, and young Page of the
+Sacramento branch. He emerged with a clouded brow, puffing furiously at
+his cigar. As he passed through the bank, Sherman noted an unusual line
+of men, interspersed with an occasional woman, waiting their turn for
+the paying teller's service. The man was counting out gold and silver
+feverishly. There was whispering among the file of waiters. To him the
+thing had an ominous look.
+
+He stopped for a moment at the bank of Adams & Company. There also the
+number of people withdrawing deposits was unusual; the receiving
+teller's window was neglected. James King of William, who, since the
+closing of his own bank, had been Adams & Company's manager, came
+forward and drew Sherman aside. "What do you think of the prospect?" he
+asked. "Few of us can stand a run. We're perfectly solvent, but if this
+excitement spreads it means ruin for the house--for every bank in
+town perhaps."
+
+"Haight's drunk," said Sherman tersely. "Page is silly with fear. I went
+over to help them ... but it's no use. They're gone."
+
+King's bearded face was pale, but his eyes were steady. "I'm sorry," he
+said, "that makes it harder for us all." He smiled mirthlessly. "You're
+better off than we ... with our country branches. If anything goes wrong
+here, our agents will be blamed. There may be bloodshed even." He held
+out his hand and Sherman gripped it. "Good luck," the latter said,
+"we'll stand together, far as possible."
+
+As Sherman left the second counting house, he noted how the line had
+grown before the paying teller's window. It extended now outside the
+door. At Palmer, Cook & Company's and Naglee's banks it was the same.
+The human queue, which issued from the doors of Page, Bacon & Company,
+now reached around the corner. It was growing turbulent. Women tried to
+force themselves between the close-packed file and were repelled. One of
+these was Sherman's washwoman. She clutched his coat-tails as he
+hurried by.
+
+"My God, sir!" she wailed, "they've my money; the savings of years. And
+now they say it's gone ... that Haight's gambled ... spent it on
+women ..."
+
+Sherman tried to quiet her and was beset by others. "How's your bank?"
+people shouted at him. "How's Lucas-Turner?"
+
+"Sound as a dollar," he told them; "come and get your money when you
+please; it's there waiting for you."
+
+But his heart was heavy with foreboding as he entered his own bank. Here
+the line was somewhat shorter than at most of the others, but still
+sufficiently long to cause dismay. Sherman passed behind the counter and
+conferred with his assistant.
+
+"We close in half an hour--at three o'clock," he said. "That will give
+us a breathing spell. Tomorrow comes the test. By then the town will
+know of Page-Bacon's failure ..."
+
+He beckoned to the head accountant, who came hurriedly, a quill pen
+bobbing behind his ear, his tall figure bent from stooping over ledgers.
+
+"How much will we require to withstand a day's run?" Sherman flung the
+question at him like a thunderbolt. And almost as though the impact of
+some verbal missile had deprived him of speech, the man stopped,
+stammering.
+
+"I--I--I think, s-s-sir," he gulped and recovered himself with an
+effort, "f-forty thousand will do it."
+
+Swiftly Sherman turned toward the door. "Where are you going?" the
+assistant called.
+
+"To get forty thousand dollars--if I have to turn highwayman," Sherman
+flung over his shoulder.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII
+
+"GIVE US OUR SAVINGS!"
+
+As he left the bank Sherman cast over in his mind with desperate
+swiftness the list of men to whom he could go for financial support.
+Turner, Lucas & Co. had loaned Captain Folsom $25,000 on his two late
+ventures, the Metropolitan Theatre and the Tehama House. Both, under
+normal conditions, would have made their promoter rich. But nothing was
+at par these days.
+
+Sherman wondered uneasily whether Folsom could help. He was not a man to
+save money, and the banker, who made it his business to know what
+borrowers of the bank's money did, knew that Folsom liked gambling,
+frequented places where the stakes ran high. Of late he had met heavy
+losses. However, he was a big man, Sherman reasoned; he should have
+large resources. Both of them were former army officers. That should
+prove a bond between them. At Captain Folsom's house an old negro
+servant opened the door, his wrinkled black face anxious.
+
+"Mars Joe, he ain't right well dis evenin'," he said, evasively, but
+when Sherman persisted he was ushered into a back room where sat the
+redoubtable captain, all the fierceness of his burnside whiskers, the
+austerity of his West Point manner, melted in the indignity of sneezes
+and wheezes.
+
+Sherman looked at him in frank dismay.
+
+"Heavens, man," he said, "I'm sorry to intrude on you in this condition
+... but my errand won't wait...."
+
+"What do you want, Bill Sherman?" the sick man glowered.
+
+"Money," Sherman answered crisply. "You know, perhaps, that Page, Bacon
+& Co. have failed. Everyone's afraid of his deposits. We've got to have
+cash tomorrow. How about your--?"
+
+With a cry of irritation Folsom threw up his hands. "Money! God
+Almighty! Sherman, there's not a loose dollar in town. My agent, Van
+Winkle, has walked his legs off, talked himself hoarse.... He can't get
+anything. It's impossible."
+
+"Then you can do nothing?"
+
+For answer Folsom broke into a torrent of sneezes and coughs. The old
+negro came running. Sherman shook his head and left the room.
+
+There remained Major Hammond, collector of the port, two of whose notes
+the bank held.
+
+He and Sherman were not over-friendly; yet Hammond must be asked.
+Sherman made his way to the customs house briskly, stated his business
+to the doorkeeper and sat down in an anteroom to await Hammond's
+pleasure. There he cooled his heels for a considerable period before he
+was summoned to an inner office.
+
+"Well, Sherman," he asked, not ungraciously, "what can I do for you?"
+
+"You can take up one of your notes with our bank," replied Sherman,
+without ado. "We need cash desperately."
+
+"'Fraid of a run, eh?"
+
+"Not afraid, no. But preparing for it."
+
+The other nodded his approval. "Quite right! quite right!" he said with
+unexpected warmth.... "So you'd like me to cash one of my notes,
+Mr. Sherman?"
+
+"Why, yes, sir, if it wouldn't inconvenience you," the banker answered,
+"it would aid us greatly." He looked into the collector's keen,
+inquiring eyes, then added: "I may as well say quite frankly, Mr.
+Hammond, you're our last resort."
+
+"Then why"--the other's smile was whimsical--"then why not both of my
+notes?"
+
+[Illustration: There sat the redoubtable captain, all the ... austerity
+of his West Point manner melted in the indignity of sneezes and
+wheezes.... "Money! God Almighty! Sherman, there's not a loose dollar
+in town."]
+
+"Do you mean it?" Sherman asked breathlessly.
+
+By way of answer Hammond drew a book of printed forms toward him.
+Calmly, leisurely, he wrote several lines; tore a long, narrow strip
+from the book and handed it to Sherman.
+
+"Here's my check for $40,000 on the United States Treasurer. He will
+cash it in gold. Never mind, don't thank me, this is purely business. I
+know what's up, young man. I can't see your people go under. Good day!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ten o'clock on the following morning. Hundreds of people lined up before
+the doors of San Francisco banks. Men of all classes; top-hatted
+merchants rubbed elbows with red-shirted miners, Irish laborers smoking
+clay pipes, Mexican vaqueros, roustabouts from the docks, gamblers,
+bartenders, lawyers, doctors, politicians. Here and there one saw women
+with children in their arms or holding them by the hand. They pressed
+shoulder to shoulder. Those at the head had their noses almost against
+the glass. Inside of the counting houses men with pale, harried faces
+stood behind their grilled iron wickets, wondering how long the pile of
+silver and gold within their reach would stay that clamorous human tide.
+Doors swung back and it swept in, a great wave, almost overturning
+the janitors.
+
+The cashier and assistant manager of Lucas & Co. watched nervously, the
+former now and then running his fingers through his sparse hair; the
+assistant manager at intervals retired to a back room where he consulted
+a decanter and a tall glass. Frequently he summoned the bookkeeper.
+"How's the money lasting?" he would inquire almost in a whisper, and the
+other answered, "Still holding out."
+
+But now the assistant manager saw that the cash on hand was almost
+exhausted. He was afraid to ask the bookkeeper any more questions.
+
+"Where the devil's Sherman?" he snapped at the cashier. That official
+started. "Why--er--how should I know?... He was hunting Major Snyder
+this morning. He had a check from Hammond, the collector of the port."
+
+"Damnation!" cried the assistant manager. "Sherman ought to be here. He
+ought to talk to these people. They think he's skipped."
+
+He broke off hurriedly as the assistant teller came up trembling. "We'll
+have to close in ten minutes," he said. "There's less than $500 left."
+His mouth twitched. "I don't know what we'll do, sir, when the time
+comes ... and God only knows what they'll do."
+
+"Good God! what's that?"
+
+Some new commotion was apparent at the entrance of the bank. The
+assistant teller grasped his pistol. The line of waiting men and women
+turned, for the moment forgetting their quest. William Sherman, attended
+by two armed constables, entered the door. Between them the trio carried
+two large canvas bags, each bearing the imprint of the United
+States Treasury.
+
+Sherman halted just inside the door.
+
+"Forty thousand in gold, boys," he cried, "and plenty more where it came
+from. Turner, Lucas & Co. honors every draft."
+
+His face pressed eagerly against the lattice of the paying teller's cage
+stood a little Frenchman. His hat had fallen from his pomaded hair; his
+waxed moustache bristled.
+
+"Do you mean you have ze monnaie? All ze monnaie zat we wish?" he asked
+gesticulating excitedly with his hands.
+
+"Sure," returned the teller. Sherman and his aids were carrying the two
+sacks into the back of the cage, depositing them on a marble shelf.
+"See!" The teller turned one over and a tinkling flood of shining golden
+disks poured forth.
+
+"Ah, bon! bon!" shrieked the little Frenchman, dancing up and down upon
+his high-heeled boots. "If you have ze monnaie, zen I do not want heem."
+He broke out of the line, happily humming a chanson. Half a dozen
+people laughed.
+
+"That's what I say," shouted other voices. "We don't want our money if
+it's safe."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII
+
+KING STARTS THE BULLETIN
+
+After several months of business convalescence, San Francisco found
+itself recovered from the financial chaos of February. Many well-known
+men and institutions had not stood the ordeal; some went down the
+pathway of dishonor to an irretrievable inconsequence and destitution;
+others profited by their misfortunes and still others, with the
+dauntless spirit of the time, turned halted energies or aspirations to
+fresh account. Among them was James King of William.
+
+The name of his father, William King, was, by an odd necessity,
+perpetuated with his own. There were many James Kings and to avert
+confusion of identities the paternal cognomen was added.
+
+In the Bank Exchange saloon, where the city's powers in commerce,
+journalism and finance were wont to congregate, King met, on a rainy
+autumn afternoon, R.D. Sinton and Jim Nesbitt. They hailed him jovially.
+Seated in the corner of an anteroom they drank to one another's health
+and listened to the raindrops pattering against a window.
+
+"Well, how is the auction business, Bob?" asked King.
+
+"Not so bad," the junior partner of Selover and Sinton answered. "Better
+probably than the newspaper or banking line.... Here's poor Jim, the
+keenest paragrapher in San Francisco, out of work since the
+_Chronicle's_ gone to the wall. And here you are, cleaned out by Adams &
+Company's careless or dishonest work--I don't know which."
+
+"Let's not discuss it," King said broodingly. "You know they wouldn't
+let me supervise the distribution of the money. And you know what my
+demand for an accounting brought ..."
+
+"Abuse and slander from that boughten sheet, the Alta--yes," retorted
+Sinton. "Well, you have the consolation of knowing that no honest man
+believes it."
+
+King was silent for a moment. Then his clenched hand fell upon the
+table. "By the Eternal!" he exclaimed, with a sudden upthrust of the
+chin. "This town must have a decent paper. Do you know that there are
+seven murderers in our jail? No one will convict them and no editor has
+the courage to expose our rotten politics." He glanced quickly from one
+to the other. "Are you with me, boys? Will you help me to start a
+journal that will run our crooked officials and their hired plug-uglies
+out of town?... Sinton, last week you asked my advice about a good
+investment ... Nesbitt, you're looking for a berth. Well, here's an
+answer to you both. Let's start a paper--call it, say, the Evening
+Bulletin."
+
+Nesbitt's eyes glowed. "By the Lord Harry! it's an inspiration, King,"
+he said and beckoned to a waiter to refill their glasses. "I know enough
+about our State and city politics to make a lot of well-known citizens
+hunt cover--"
+
+Sinton smiled at the journalist's ardor. "D'ye mean it, James?" he
+asked. "Every word," replied the banker. "But I can't help much
+financially," he added. "My creditors got everything."
+
+"You mean the King's treasury is empty," said Sinton, laughing at his
+pun. "Well, well, we might make it go, boys. I'm not a millionaire, but
+never mind. How much would it take?"
+
+Nesbitt answered with swift eagerness. "I know a print shop we can buy
+for a song; it's on Merchant street near Montgomery. Small but
+comfortable, and just the thing. $500 down would start us."
+
+Sinton pulled at his chin a moment. "Go ahead then," he urged. "I'll
+loan you the money."
+
+King's hand shot out to grasp the auctioneer's. "There ought to be
+10,000 decent citizens in San Francisco who'll give us their support.
+Let's go and see the owner of that print-shop now."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the afternoon of October 5th, 1885, a tiny four-page paper made its
+first appearance on the streets of San Francisco.
+
+The first page, with its queer jumble of news and advertisements, had a
+novel and attractive appearance quite apart from the usual standards of
+typographical make-up. People laughed at King's naive editorial apology
+for entering an overcrowded and none-too-prosperous field; they nodded
+approvingly over his promise to tell the truth with fearless
+impartiality.
+
+William Coleman was among the first day's visitors.
+
+"Good luck to you, James King of William," he held forth a friendly
+hand. The editor, turning, rose and grasped it with sincere cordiality.
+They stood regarding each other silently. It seemed almost as though a
+prescience of what was to come lay in that curious communion of
+heart and mind.
+
+"Going after the crooks, I understand," said Coleman finally.
+
+"Big and little," King retorted. "That's all the paper's for. I don't
+expect to make money."
+
+"How about the Southerners, the Chivalry party? They'll challenge you to
+duels daily."
+
+"Damn the 'Chivs'." King answered. "I shall ignore their challenges.
+This duelling habit is absurd. It's grandstand politics; opera bouffe.
+They even advertise their meetings and the boatmen run excursions to
+some point where two idiots shoot wildly at each other for some fancied
+slight. No, Coleman, I'm not that particular kind of a fool."
+
+"Well, you'd better carry a derringer," the other warned. "There are
+Broderick's plug-uglies. They won't wait to send a challenge."
+
+King gave him an odd look. "I have feeling that one cannot change his
+destiny," he said. "If I am to be killed--then so be it ... Kismet, as
+the Orientals say. But meanwhile I'll fight corruption. I'll call men by
+name and shout their sins from the housetops. We'll wake up the town, or
+my name isn't James King of William.... Won't we, James?" He clapped a
+hand on Nesbitt's shoulder. The other turned half irritably. "What? Oh,
+yes. To be sure," he answered and resumed his writing. Charles
+Gerberding, who held the title of publisher in the new enterprise,
+looked up from his ledger. "If this keeps up," he said, smiling and
+rubbing his hands, "we can enlarge the paper in a month or so." He shut
+the volume with a slam and lighted a cigar.
+
+"Hello, Coleman, how are the Vigilants? I'm told you still preserve a
+tacit organization."
+
+"More of the spirit than substance," said Coleman smiling. "I hope we'll
+not need to revive it."
+
+"Not so sure," responded Gerberding. "This man here," the cigar was
+waved in King's direction, "this editor of ours is going to set the
+town afire."
+
+Coleman did not answer. He went out ... wondering whether Isaac Bluxome
+was in town. Bluxome had served as secretary for the Vigilance
+Committee of '51.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX
+
+RICHARDSON AND CORA
+
+Business went on with at least a surface calm of new stability. Politics
+brought forth occasional eruptions, mostly twixt the Abolitionists and
+Slavery parties. Each claimed California. Broderick more than ever held
+the reins of state and city government. But the latter proved a
+fractious steed. For all his dauntless vigor and political astuteness,
+Destiny as yet withheld from Broderick the coveted United States
+senatorship. At best he had achieved an impasse, a dog-in-the-manger
+victory. By preventing the election of a rival he had gained little and
+incurred much censure for depriving the State of national
+representation. Benito and Alice tried to rouse him from a fit of
+moodiness as he dined with them one evening in November. Lately he had
+made a frequent, always-welcome third at their evening meal.
+
+"Cheer up, Dave," Benito rallied, as he raised a glass of wine. "We'll
+be reading your speeches in the Washington reports before many years
+have gone by. Come," he said to his wife, "let's drink to the future of
+'The Gentleman from California.'"
+
+Broderick smiled; his glass clinked against those of his two companions.
+He gazed a moment musingly at both; then quaffed his liquor with a
+touch of haste.
+
+Alice Windham's eyes were troubled. "David," she was hesitant, yet
+earnest. "It is really necessary to associate with people such as--well,
+you know ... James Casey, Billy Mulligan, McGowan?"
+
+He answered her with a vehemence close to anger. "Politicians cannot
+choose their weapons. They must fight fire with fire ... or lose." For a
+moment the talk lagged. Then Benito, with his sprightly gossip, sent it
+rolling on. "Sherman has turned Jim Casey and his _Sunday Times_ out of
+the Turner-Lucas building ... for attacking the banks."
+
+"He threatened to, some time ago," said Broderick.... "How goes it with
+your law, Benito?"
+
+"Well enough," said Windham, as his wife rose. She left them to attend
+the child, which had awakened. Broderick stared after her, a brooding
+hunger in his eyes. Presently, he, too, arose, and despite Benito's
+urging, departed.
+
+It was dusk when he reached the Blue Wing saloon, where "Judge" McGowan
+awaited him. A burly, forceful man, with bushy eyebrows, a walrus
+moustache perpetually tobacco-stained, and an air of ruthless command.
+"Where've you been?" he asked, impatiently, but did not wait for an
+answer. "Casey's in trouble again."
+
+"What's the matter now?" asked Broderick with a swift, half anxious
+uplift of the chin.
+
+"Oh, not his fault exactly," said the other. "Five of Gwin's men
+attacked him. Tried to kill him probably. But Jim's a tough lad. He laid
+one out, took his pistol and shot another. The rest vamoosed. Jim's in
+jail ... for disturbing the peace," he added, chuckling grimly.
+
+"Well, Billy Mulligan will let him out," responded Broderick. "If not,
+see Scannell. Do you need bail?" He reached into his pocket and took out
+a roll of banknotes. "You'll attend to it, Ned?" he asked hurriedly.
+
+"Yes, yes," returned the tall man. "That's all right.... I wish it
+hadn't happened, though. We're none too strong ... with seven murderers
+in the jail.... They'll bring up Casey's prison record at the
+examination. See if they don't."
+
+Broderick turned away.
+
+At the bar he greeted "General" Billy Richardson, deputy United States
+Marshal. They had a drink together.
+
+"James King of William's crusading with The Bulletin," said Richardson,
+"he threatens to run all the crooks out of town. It's making a good
+deal of talk."
+
+"But King's not a newspaper man," retorted Broderick, puzzled. "He's a
+banker. How's he going to run a journal? That takes money--experience."
+
+"Quien sabe?" Richardson vouchsafed. "Sinton of Selover and Sinton's his
+financial backer. Jim Nesbitt helps with the writing. You know Nesbitt,
+don't you? Slings a wicked pen. But King writes his own editorials I'm
+told. He's got a big job on his hands--cleaning up San Francisco.... You
+ought to know, Dave Broderick," he laughed meaningly. "Here's to
+him, anyhow."
+
+"Don't know if I should drink to that or not," Broderick ruminated,
+smiling. "May get after me. I'll take a chance, though. King's straight.
+I can always get on with a straight man." He raised his glass.
+
+A friend of Richardson's came up. Broderick did not know him, but he
+recognized at his side the well-groomed figure of Charles Cora, gambler
+and dandy. "Wancha t'meet Charley," said the introducer, unsteadily, to
+Richardson. "Bes' li'l man ever lived." Richardson held out his hand a
+bit reluctantly. Cora's sort were somewhat declassé. "Have a drink?"
+he invited.
+
+Broderick left them together. Later he saw Richardson quit the gambler's
+presence abruptly. The other took a few steps after him, then fell back
+with a shrug. Broderick heard the deputy-marshal mutter: "Too damned
+fresh; positively insulting," but he thought little of it. Richardson
+was apt to grow choleric while drinking. He often fancied himself
+insulted, but usually forgot it quickly. So Broderick merely smiled.
+
+On the following day he chanced again upon Richardson, who, to
+Broderick's astonishment, still brooded over Cora's "impudent remark."
+He did not seem to know just what it was, but the offensive flavor of
+it lingered.
+
+"Wonder where he is?" he kept repeating. "Deserves to be thrashed.
+Confound his impertinence. May do it yet."
+
+He was drinking. Broderick glanced apprehensively about. The gambler's
+sleek form was not in evidence. McGowan came in with Casey and Mulligan.
+Casey, too, had been drinking. He was in an evil humor, his usually
+jovial face sullen and vengeful.
+
+"Damn the newspapers," he exploded. "They've printed the Sing Sing yarn
+on me again. It was brought out at the arraignment."
+
+"Confound it, Broderick, haven't you any influence at all? Can't you
+keep such stuff out of type?"
+
+"Sometimes--if I know about it in advance. I'm sorry, Jim."
+
+"They tell me King of William's going to print it in the _Bulletin_.
+Better see him."
+
+"No use," put in McGowan, "that fellow's so straight (he sneered the
+word) that he leans over backward. Somebody'll fix him though ... you'll
+see." The trio wandered off to Broderick's relief, making their exit
+just as Cora entered the door. The gambler approached Richardson. They
+had a drink together, some rather loud, conversation. Broderick feared
+it would develop into a quarrel, but evidently they patched a truce
+between them, for soon they went out arm in arm.
+
+His thought turned to Alice Windham. In a kind of reverie he left the
+Blue Wing, walking without sense of direction. It was getting dark; a
+chilling touch of fog was in the air--almost, it seemed to Broderick,
+like a premonition. On Clay, near Montgomery, he passed two men standing
+in a doorway; it was too dark to see their faces. Some impulse bade him
+stop, but he repressed it. Later he heard a shot, men running. But his
+mood was not for street brawls. He went on.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL
+
+THE STORM GATHERS
+
+It was Nesbitt who told Broderick of the murder. Nesbitt, of whom
+Richardson had said the night before, "he slings a wicked pen."
+
+"My God, Jim, this is awful!" Broderick exclaimed. "You're sure there's
+no mistake ... I saw the two of them go out arm in arm."
+
+"Mistake! I wish it were," cried Nesbitt angrily. "No, poor Billy
+Richardson is dead. Cora's in jail.... They say Cora laughed when he
+went to prison with Scannell.... Scannell and Mulligan!" He spat out the
+words with a savage distaste.
+
+"Let me show you something, Dave. A reporter from the New York _Express_
+was out here gathering data--crime statistics for the year. He showed it
+to me. Listen to this: Four hundred and eighty-nine murders in
+California during ten months. Six executions by sheriffs, forty-six
+hanged by mobs; that makes fifty-two in all."
+
+He tapped the paper with his lean forefinger. "Probably two hundred of
+these killings were local.... And in the entire history of this city
+there's been exactly one legal execution. That was in 1852."
+
+Broderick shook his head. "What are you going to do with that stuff?"
+asked Broderick.
+
+"Publish it in the _Bulletin_," returned Nesbitt decisively. "We're
+going to stir things up."
+
+They walked along together, Broderick's head bent in thought. Everywhere
+people were discussing the evening's tragedy. More than once "Judge
+Lynch's" name was mentioned threateningly.
+
+About the jail men swarmed, coming and going in an excited human tide.
+Some brandished fists at the unresponsive brick walls or called threats
+against Cora. As Broderick and Nesbitt passed the door, a handsome and
+richly clad woman emerged. Trickling tears had devastated the cosmetic
+smoothness of her cheeks. Her eyes looked frantic. But she proceeded
+calmly, almost haughtily to a waiting carriage. The driver whipped his
+horses and the equipage rolled on through a scattering crowd, some of
+whom shouted epithets after it.
+
+"That was Belle Cora, who keeps that bawdy house up town," Nesbitt
+volunteered.
+
+"Yes," said Broderick musingly, "she seemes to take it hard."
+
+"She's mad about the fellow," Nesbitt waved a parting salutation and
+walked toward the Bulletin office.
+
+Broderick turned homeward, thinking of the two dark figures he had
+passed on Clay street where the killing had taken place. Perchance if he
+had stopped as he was minded, the tragedy might have been averted.
+Nobody seemed to know just how it came about. The thing was most
+unfortunate politically. King would stir up a hornet's nest of public
+opinion. Broderick reached his lodgings and at once retired. His sleep
+was fitful. He dreamed that Alice Windham and Sheriff Scannell were
+fighting for his soul.
+
+In the morning he met Benito on the plaza and the two encountered
+Colonel E.D. Baker.
+
+"I hear you're Cora's counsel," said Benito with a touch of disapproval.
+
+Baker looked at the young man over his spectacles. He was a big
+impressive man whose appearance as well as his words swayed juries. He
+commanded large fees. It was to Broderick rather than Benito that he
+made reply.
+
+"That Belle woman--she calls herself Mrs. Cora--came to me last night.
+By the Lord, she melted my heart. She got down on her knees. How she
+loves that gambler!... Well, I promised to defend him, confound it." He
+passed on shaking his head.
+
+"Didn't mention what his fee was," Broderick spoke cynically.
+
+"I'm informed he tried to give it back to her this morning," said
+Benito. "But she wouldn't take it. Made a scene and held him to his
+honor." He laughed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Cora's trial dragged itself into the following January on the slow feet
+of countless technicalities. Every legal subterfuge was exhausted by the
+quartet of talented and high-priced attorneys provided by Belle Cora's
+questionable fortune but unquestioned affection. The trial proved a
+feast of oratory, a mass of contradictory evidence. Before it began a
+juror named Jacob Mayer accused L. Sokalasky with offering him a bribe.
+Sokalasky, brought into court, denied the charge. And there it ended,
+save that thenceforth the "twelve good men and true" were exiled even
+from their families by the order of Judge Hagar. None the less it seemed
+quite evident as a morning paper cynically remarked, that the stable had
+been locked after the horses were stolen.
+
+On January 17 the Cora jury announced its inability to agree. The trial
+ended minus a conviction.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ned McGowan, James P. Casey, Sheriff Scannell and his aid, Billy
+Mulligan, had frequent conferences in the offices of Casey's _Sunday
+Times_. Broderick held more or less aloof from his political
+subordinates these troublous days. But Charley Duane, former chief
+engineer of the fire department, was their frequent consort. The _Sunday
+Times_ concentrated its fire chiefly on James King of William. It was
+his biting, unstudied verbiage that struck "The Federal Brigade" on
+the raw.
+
+Early in May the _Times_ accused Thomas King, the _Bulletin_ editor's
+brother, of scheming by illegal means to gain the office that
+Richardson's death had left vacant.
+
+To this imputation, the _Bulletin_ made a sharp reply. Among other items
+calculated to enrage his foe appeared the following:
+
+     "The fact that Casey has been an inmate of Sing Sing prison
+     in New York is no offense against the laws of this State; nor
+     is the fact of his having stuffed himself through the ballot
+     box, as elected to the Board of Supervisors from a district
+     where it is said he was not even a candidate, any
+     justification why Mr. Bagley should shoot Casey, however
+     richly he may deserve having his neck stretched for such
+     fraud upon the people...."
+
+There was more, but this was all that Casey read. He tore the paper into
+shreds and stamped upon it, inarticulate with fury. When at last he
+found his tongue a flood of obscenities flowed. He drew a pistol from
+his pocket; brandishing the weapon, he reached for the door knob. But
+Doane, who had brought the paper, caught his arm.
+
+"Don't be a fool. Put that pistol away," he warned. "The public's
+crazy-mad about the Cora verdict. They won't stand for shooting King."
+
+"Listen," said McGowan, craftily, "go up there and protest like a
+gentleman. Try to make the ---- insult you in the presence of a
+witness.... Afterward--we'll see."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI
+
+THE FATEFUL ENCOUNTER
+
+James King of William sat with his back toward the door when Casey,
+still a-quiver with rage but endeavoring to control himself, entered the
+Bulletin office. He stumbled over the doorsill.
+
+King turned. When he saw who the intruder was, he laid down a handful of
+proofs and rose. Casey glared at him.
+
+"What do you mean," cried the politician, trying to speak calmly, "by
+publishing that article about me in the Bulletin?"
+
+King transfixed him with accusing eyes. "About the ballot-box stuffing
+... or your Sing Sing record, Casey?" he inquired.
+
+"You--you know well enough," blustered Casey. "It's an outrage to rake
+up a man's past.... A fellow's sensitive about such things."
+
+He shook a fist at King. "If necessary, I'll defend myself."
+
+"Very well," responded King. "That's your prerogative. You've a paper of
+your own.... And now get out of here," he added curtly. "Never show your
+face inside this door again."
+
+Later at the Bank Exchange McGowan found the supervisor cursing as he
+raised a glass of whiskey with a trembling hand.
+
+"Well, did you make him insult you?"
+
+"Damn him," was all Casey could answer. "Damn him. Damn him." He tossed
+the raw liquor down his throat and poured another drink. McGowan smiled.
+
+"You can do that till Doomsday and it won't hurt him." McGowan's voice
+rang with contempt. "Is that all you can do? Are you afraid--"
+
+Casey interrupted fiercely. "I'm NOT afraid. You know it. I'll get
+even."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Never mind. You'll see," the politician muttered darkly.
+
+"You're a drunken fool," remarked McGowan. "You've no chance with King.
+He's twice as big as you. He carries a derringer. And he shoots
+straight. Listen to me." He dragged the other to a corner of the room;
+they sat there for at least an hour arguing, drinking.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+James King of William watched Casey's exit from the Bulletin with a
+smile. He recalled his wife's warning that morning as he left his home,
+"Look out for Casey, James."
+
+"Pooh, Charlotte," he had reassured her. "I've far worse enemies than
+that prison rat."
+
+She had merely smiled, smoothed a wrinkle from his coat and kissed him,
+a worried look in her eyes. Then the children had gathered round him.
+Little Annie wanted a toy piano, Joe some crayons for his work
+at school.
+
+Remembering this, King seized a desk pad, wrote on it some words of
+memoranda. Then he straightway forgot Casey in the detail of work.
+
+When the Bulletin was off the press, the pad, with its written
+inscription, caught his eye and he shoved it into a side pocket.
+
+"Well, I'm going home," he said to Nesbitt. "Must buy a few things for
+the children."
+
+Nesbitt looked up half absently from his writing. "Afternoon," he
+greeted. "Better take your derringer. Don't know what might happen."
+
+King shrugged himself into the talma cape, which he usually wore on the
+streets. It is doubtful if he heard Nesbitt's warning. With a nod to
+Gerberding he sauntered slowly out, enjoying the mellow spring
+sunshine, filtering now and then through wisps of fog. As he turned into
+Montgomery street he almost collided with Benito Windham, who, brief
+case under arm, was striding rapidly southward. They exchanged a cordial
+greeting. Benito looked after the tall courtly figure crossing
+Montgomery street diagonally toward a big express wagon. Benito thought
+he could discern a quick nervous movement back of it. A man stepped out,
+directly across King's path.
+
+He was James P. Casey, tremendously excited. His right hand shook
+violently. His hat was on one side of his head; he was apparently
+intoxicated. King did not notice him until they were almost abreast.
+
+Casey's arm was outstretched, pointed at King's breast. "Draw and defend
+yourself," he said loudly. He shut his eyes and a little puff of smoke
+seemed to spring from the ends of his fingers, followed in the fraction
+of a second by a sharp report.
+
+Benito ran with all his might toward the men. He did not think that King
+was hit, for the editor turned toward the Pacific Express office. On the
+threshold he stumbled. A clerk ran out and caught the tall figure as it
+collapsed.
+
+Benito looked about for King's assailant. He saw a group of men on
+Washington street, but was unable to distinguish Casey among them,
+though McGowan's lanky form was visible.
+
+At Benito's feet lay a pocket-memorandum marked with a splash of red.
+The young man picked it up and read:
+
+"Piano for Annie.
+
+"Crayons for Joe.
+
+"Candy--"
+
+A man with a medicine case shouldered his way in. He was Dr. Hammond.
+"Get a basin," he ordered, "some warm water." He unbuttoned the wounded
+man's coat, looking grave as he saw the spreading red stain on
+his shirt.
+
+"Will he get well, doctor?" shouted a dozen voices.
+
+[Illustration: "Draw and defend yourself," he said loudly. He shut his
+eyes and a little puff of smoke seemed to spring from the end of his
+fingers, followed ... by a sharp report.]
+
+"Can't tell ... 'fraid not," Hammond answered, and a sympathetic
+silence followed his announcement.
+
+Someone cried: "Where's Casey?"
+
+Word came that Casey was in jail. "He gave himself up," a man said.
+
+Presently there was a sound of carriage wheels. A white-faced woman made
+her way to the express office. The crowd stood with bared heads as it
+opened a way for her passage. The woman was Mrs. King. They heard
+her sobbing.
+
+Gerberding and Nesbitt came and made their exit after a short stay.
+Tears ran down Nesbitt's cheeks. "I told him so," they heard him
+muttering, "I told him so.... He wouldn't listen.... Didn't take
+his pistol."
+
+Last of all came William Coleman, lips pressed tightly together, eyes
+hard. He remained only a few moments. Benito hailed him as he emerged
+from the express office.
+
+"Any chance of recovery?"
+
+"Very little." The tone was grim.
+
+"I hate to think of what may happen if he dies?" Windham commented.
+
+"Hell will break loose," Coleman stated with conviction. "Better come
+along, Benito. I'm going to find Ike Bluxome. It's time we prepared."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII
+
+THE COMMITTEE ORGANIZES
+
+When Benito rode up Montgomery street next morning he saw a litter being
+carried out of the Pacific Express Office. Beside it, were Mrs. King,
+Dr. Hammond and John Sime. They walked very slowly and the crowd fell
+back on either side as the litter-bearers progressed.
+
+Benito's heart stood still a moment. "Is he--?" the question formed
+reluctantly upon his lips. But David Broderick, standing by,
+reassured him.
+
+"No, not dead. Thank Heaven! They're taking him to more comfortable
+quarters. A room in the Montgomery Block. They've postponed the
+operation on the artery; as a last resort."
+
+"Dave," said Windham, seriously, "do you suppose you'll be blamed for
+this?"
+
+"Good God, man! No," returned the other. "Not even Gwin would dare to
+lay this at my door. There's no politics in it. At least none of mine."
+
+"Yet Casey was one of your men. They'll say that."
+
+"Let them," answered Broderick angrily. "I've no more to do with it than
+you--nor Coleman, who, they tell me, is forming another Vigilance
+Committee."
+
+"Yes," said Windham. "They're to meet at the old Know Nothing Hall on
+Sacramento street. I'm going there now."
+
+"Well I'm bound for a talk with Will Sherman; he's been appointed head
+of the militia. Just in time I should say. He'll be needed before order
+is restored."
+
+They shook hands. Benito looked after his friend uneasily. Broderick
+was on the wrong side, the young man thought; was taking an unwise tack.
+But no one could argue with Broderick ... unless it were Alice. They
+must have Dave to dinner again.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The street in front of Know Nothing Hall, a long two-story brick
+building was already crowded. One by one men were admitted--or rejected.
+Now and then a man would fall out of the line muttering wrathfully.
+
+"They're taking mighty good care not to let any of Scannell's friends
+get in," a man behind Benito confided. "The Sheriff's sent a dozen
+'plants' this morning but Bluxome weeds them out unfailingly."
+
+After a time Benito found himself at the wicket, gazing into Isaac
+Bluxome's shrewd eyes. He was passed immediately with a smile of welcome
+and found himself in a large room of the "lodge" variety. There was a
+desk behind which sat William Coleman and Charles Doane.
+
+About one hundred men moved about talking animatedly in groups and among
+these Benito noted many of his fellows of the '51 committee.
+
+Presently Coleman spoke.
+
+"Gentlemen, it has been decided to reorganize the Vigilance Committee.
+Mr. Bluxome and I have assumed the initiative, without any idea of
+placing ourselves at the head of the organization. Neither of us desire
+more than a chance to serve--in whatever capacity you may determine. We
+have prepared a form of oath, which I suggest shall be signed by each of
+us with his name and the number of his enrollment. Afterward he shall be
+known by that number only."
+
+He read the oath: "I do solemnly swear to act with the Vigilance
+Committee and second and sustain in full all their actions as expressed
+through the executive committee."
+
+"That's good!" "That's the ticket!" affirmed a score of voices. Coleman
+held up a quill pen invitingly, "Who'll be first to sign?"
+
+"You, Mr. Coleman," said Benito firmly, "you must be our chief."
+
+A cheer followed. Coleman demurred but in vain. They would have no one
+else. So, at last he put his name upon the paper, adding after it
+"No. 1."
+
+Others came up and affixed their signatures: C.J. Dempster, the Post
+brothers, Alfred Rix, P.G. Childs and so on. Bluxome, relieved from his
+post, was No. 33. It proved in after days a potent numeral for it
+represented the secretarial seal on documents which spelled doom to
+evildoers; hope, law and order to an outraged populace.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Meanwhile, McGowan, Scannell and his clan had not been idle. On the
+night of the shooting one hundred men proceeded to the Pacific street
+wharf where the Coliah and Seabird were anchored. From each of these, by
+force of arms, but with a promise of return, they took a ship's cannon
+which they dragged by means of two long ropes, uphill to the county
+stronghold.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On Thursday morning Mayor Van Ness stalked into Turner, Lucas &
+Company's bank and button-holed the manager. This was William T.
+Sherman, late of the United States army.
+
+"Sherman," said Van Ness excitedly, "is it true that you've been
+appointed major-general in charge of the second division of the
+California Militia?"
+
+"It is," retorted Sherman. His calm demeanor as he answered, without
+even looking up from the stock sheets which engrossed him, contrasted
+sharply with the fuming unrest of Van Ness. The latter now seized
+Sherman's sleeve.
+
+"Lay those down and come with me," he urged. "We need you instantly.
+Armed mobs are organizing to destroy the jail and seize the city
+government. It's your duty, sir, your manifest duty--"
+
+"All right, mayor," Sherman said, "I'll go along." He called a clerk
+and gave some orders. Then he slipped the stock sheets into a drawer and
+took his hat from a peg.
+
+They strode along together, Van Ness gesturing and talking; Sherman's
+head slightly bent as if in thought. Now and then he asked a
+curt question.
+
+The crowd about the jail had dwindled to a few curiosity seekers. The
+center of public interest had shifted to Know Nothing Hall where
+Vigilantes were still enrolling.
+
+Sherman and Van Ness found Sheriff Scannell, Ned McGowan, Billy Mulligan
+and the prisoner Casey in vehement consultation. They welcomed the
+soldier and mayor with manifest relief.
+
+"I'm glad you came," said Mulligan, "things look bad. There'll be Hell
+poppin'--if that d---- fool dies."
+
+"If you are referring to Mr. King, speak of him with respect." Sherman's
+tone was like a whiplash. The soldier turned to Scannell. "How many men
+have you? Men on whom you can depend in a crisis?"
+
+Scannell hesitated. "A hundred maybe ... but," he looked at Sherman
+hopefully, "there's your militia. Some of them served last night."
+
+"They've refused further service," said Van Ness. "I'm told that most of
+them have gone over to the Vigilantes ... and taken their arms along."
+
+Sherman stroked his chin. "This place is not impregnable by any means,"
+he remarked. "The first thing we must do is to secure the buildings on
+each side."
+
+"Too late," groaned Scannell. "I tried to find lodgings for some of my
+guards at Mrs. Hutchinson's boarding house. She slammed the door in my
+face. I tried the other side and found that Coleman and Bluxome had an
+option on it. They've already sent men to guard both places."
+
+"Then," Sherman told them, "you cannot defend this jail against a well
+planned attack. Perhaps they'll not resort to force," he added
+hopefully. "The Governor's coming down to talk with Coleman."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII
+
+GOVERNOR JOHNSON MEDIATES
+
+On the second day after the shooting, Governor J. Neely Johnson arrived
+on the evening boat. Mayor Van Ness had sent him a panicky message,
+imploring him to drop all else and hasten to San Francisco. The Mayor
+and William K. Garrison met him at the dock. They almost pushed the
+Governor into a carriage which was driven hastily to the
+International Hotel.
+
+In his room, behind closed doors, the Governor spoke a trifle irritably:
+"What the devil's all this row about, Van Ness? The town seems quiet
+enough. You spoke of civil war."
+
+"Coleman's organized another Vigilance Committee," Garrison took it upon
+himself to answer. "You know how impulsive San Franciscans are. They're
+in for anything. Two thousand have already joined. They've bought all
+the arms in town except a few that Sheriff Scannell seized in the
+militia armories. Scannell's sent out a hurry call for deputies--"
+
+"But," broke in the Governor, incredulously, "you say Coleman's doing
+this. I can't believe it. Coleman's a good man, a quiet fellow. He's my
+friend. I'll go to him at once."
+
+He rose, but Garrison, the politic, raised his hand. "Let him come to
+you. Summon him. The effect is much better."
+
+"As you say," acceded Johnson with a smile. "Send for Coleman, with my
+compliments." He resumed his seat and picked up an Evening Bulletin,
+shaking his head. "Poor King, I hear he's dying."
+
+"A dangerous man," remarked Garrison as he left the room.
+
+"He is a lot less dangerous alive--than dead," the Mayor shivered. "As a
+reformer he'd soon have ceased to interest the public. Nobody interests
+them long. But as a martyr!" he threw up his hands. "God help San
+Francisco!"
+
+They discussed the dangers of a public outbreak till a knock at the door
+interrupted them.
+
+It proved to be Garrison, accompanied by the Vigilante chief. "Hello,
+Coleman," the Governor greeted, cordially. The two shook hands. "What's
+this I hear about your Vigilante recrudescence?" He smote his hands
+together with a catechising manner. "What do you people want?"
+
+"We want peace," responded Coleman.
+
+"And, to get it, you prepare for war. What do you expect to accomplish?"
+
+"What the Vigilantes did in '51--"
+
+Briefly and concisely he outlined the frightful condition of affairs in
+San Francisco; the straining of public patience to its present
+breaking point.
+
+"Now, Governor," he said, impressively, "you've been called on by the
+Mayor and a certain class to bring out the militia and put down this
+movement. I assure you it cannot be done. It's not the way to treat the
+question...."
+
+"What is the way, then?" Johnson asked, aggressively.
+
+"Allow us to clean our Augean stables without more than a formal
+opposition from the State. Issue your necessary proclamations to
+maintain the dignity of the law. But don't interfere with our work. We
+shall get through with it quickly--and be glad to quit, I promise you."
+
+He rose and Johnson with him. Suddenly the Governor slapped the
+Vigilante chief a rousing whack upon the shoulder. "Go ahead, old boy!
+But hurry up. There is terrible opposition. Terrific pressure."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Turn Verein Hall that evening was a busy place. A dozen companies were
+drilling on the big gymnasium floor. Men who had never shouldered guns
+were executing orders with an ardor and a concentration which concealed
+much awkwardness of unfamiliarity.
+
+The garb and condition of recruits were vividly diversified. Doctor,
+teamster, lawyer, stevedore and banker, they were actuated by a common
+spirit, working through the manual of arms together, conscious of
+no caste.
+
+Benito and Adrian, who had come in late, surveyed the drilling. Warren
+Olney, big and forceful, gave them cordial welcome. "You're both in my
+company," he informed them. "We've graded all the signers of the roll
+according to their numbers. That is, the first hundred signers make the
+first company, the second hundred another. And so on."
+
+"How about cavalry and artillery?" Benito questioned.
+
+"Oh, we'll have both, don't worry," Charles Doane answered them. "Two
+vessels in the harbor have contributed cannon; we'll mount them on the
+foreparts of wagons. That's where Olney and his men will come in. And
+we've splendid riders, though the troops are still to be rounded into
+shape." He passed on hurriedly to execute some commission. "There's a
+splendid fellow," Olney said. "He's to be grand marshal of our forces."
+He took Benito and Adrian by the arm and led them toward a group of
+waiting men. "We must get our battery organized."
+
+A messenger strode hastily across the room seeking Coleman, who
+conferred with Doane in a distant corner. "The Governor's outside," he
+whispered as he passed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Coleman, entering the ante-room in answer to a summons, found Governor
+Johnson; his brother; W. K. Garrison and William Sherman, head of the
+somewhat depleted militia. A subtle change was noticeable in Johnson's
+manner. He spoke with brusque official authority, as if no previous
+interview had taken place:
+
+"Mr. Coleman, what are you and your committee plotting? Can't this
+trouble be adjusted here and now?"
+
+Coleman accepted the situation. He saw that opposition forces had been
+active.
+
+"We are tired of outlawry and assassination, Governor," he answered.
+"We've determined to endure them no longer. Street shooting's got
+to stop!"
+
+"I agree with you," the Governor admitted. "I've come down from
+Sacramento to aid. But this is a matter for the courts, and not for you
+to adjust. Our judges are honest. You can't impugn a man like Norton."
+He lowered his voice. "I'll see that Norton tries the case; that a grand
+jury indicts Casey. I'll do everything I can to force a trial, a
+conviction--and a speedy execution.... I've no right to make such
+promises. But I'll do it--to save this city the disgrace of a mob."
+
+Coleman raised his head. "This is no mob. You know it, Governor," he
+answered. "We've no faith in Sheriff Scannell nor his juries." He turned
+to Sherman. "This committee is a deliberative body, sir; regularly
+organized with officers and men, an executive council. The best men in
+the city are its members...."
+
+"And you are its Czar," remarked Garrison, tauntingly.
+
+"I am chairman by their choice--not mine," said Coleman, tartly. "To
+show you that I make no personal decisions, I will call other members of
+the council." He bowed and withdrew, returning in a few moments with the
+brothers Arrington, Thomas Smiley, Seymour and Truitt. The two sides
+went over the ground a second time. Smiley insisted that Casey be
+delivered to the Vigilantes. Johnson suggested that the committee
+continue its labors, but permit the court to try Casey, even in the
+event of King's death. An impasse loomed. Finally came Coleman's
+ultimatum: "If Sheriff Scannell will permit ten of our members to join
+the guard over Casey, this committee will agree to make no overt
+move--until our guards are withdrawn and you are notified."
+
+"Done," agreed the Governor, hastily.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV
+
+THE TRUCE IS BROKEN
+
+On the Garvez ranch, at sunset, the 17th of May, David Broderick found a
+gracious interval of peace. It seemed almost incredible to be dining in
+the patio with Benito and Alice against a background of fragrant
+honeysuckle and early roses. The long sloping mesas were bright with
+golden poppies; fleecy white clouds bedecked the azure of a western sky,
+flushing now with carmine tints. Cowbells tinkled musically faint with
+distance and from the vaquero quarters came a herder's song, a woman's
+laughter, the tinkle of a guitar.
+
+"What are you dreaming of, my friend?" asked Alice Windham, gently.
+
+"It is very like a dream," he smiled at her, "this place of yours. So
+near the city. Yet so far removed in its enchantment....
+
+"Down there," he pointed toward the town, where lights were springing up
+out of the dusk, "a man lies dying ... and a mob plots vengeance."
+
+"Oh, come," Benito voiced a protest, "we're not a mob, Dave. You know
+that." He laid a hand upon the other's arm. "I understand how hard it's
+been for you.... You're suffering for the sins of underlings unfit to
+lace your boots."
+
+"Against whom you warned me not long since," said Broderick to Alice.
+
+"Casey, Mulligan. Yes, I remember ... you resented it a little, didn't
+you?"
+
+"No," he said, his eyes upon her with that eager look, repressed and
+yearning, which she could not always meet. "No, dear lady; it was not
+resentment.... But it hurt."
+
+Alice turned from him to her husband. "Tell me what they've done today,
+Benito."
+
+Windham's eyes shone. "You should see Will Coleman. Ah, he's a leader
+incomparable. We've got nearly 6,000 men. Infantry, artillery, cavalry.
+A police force, too, for patrolling the streets day and night."
+
+"And what is the other side doing?" Alice asked.
+
+"They've got the Governor wobbling," said Benito. "Sooner or later he'll
+call out the militia...."
+
+"But they've got no ammunition, no guns, I understand," responded
+Broderick. "Sherman tried to commandeer those flintlock muskets from the
+Mexican war--several thousand of them--but Coleman got them first."
+
+"Yes," affirmed Benito. "The Sheriff's seized some scattered arms. But
+that is not what Coleman fears. It's Federal interference. They're
+trying to get General Wool to give them rifles from the arsenal at
+Benicia, perhaps a gunboat from the navy yard."
+
+"That means--civil warfare," Broderick said, aghast.
+
+Alice Windham rose and the two men with her. She took an arm of each.
+"Come," she pleaded, "let us put it all away--this turmoil of men's
+hatred ... let us walk here in the sweet-scented evening and forget."
+
+"I wish we might," said Broderick quickly. "What will happen in the next
+few days may never be forgotten."
+
+Swiftly, Alice turned to him; looked up into his face. "Do you think,"
+she asked, so low that he could scarcely catch the words, "do you think,
+Dave, that you're safe?"
+
+Broderick caught his breath. Involuntarily his eyes strayed toward
+Benito. But the latter was so patently absorbed in sunset splendors that
+Broderick sighed as if relieved. It seemed as though some holy thing had
+passed between him and this woman. In her look, her simple question lay
+a shadowy, half-spoken answer to his heart's unuttered prayer. For a
+moment the world seemed aglow with some strange, quiet glory. Then he
+said, quite calmly: "I? Oh, yes, I'm safe enough."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Saturday passed without much change in King's condition. He was sinking
+slowly, despite his rugged strength, his will to live and the unceasing
+efforts of the city's best physicians.
+
+The Law and Order Party was being organized out of various elements that
+viewed alarmedly the Vigilantes' growing power. Religious, political,
+social elements combined in this new faction. In it were men of note,
+distinction, undisputed honor; and rascals of the worst degree.
+
+Ned McGowan, it was rumored, had gone into hiding. Broderick kept to
+himself and took no sides, yet. Many sought him for support and for
+advice, but he repulsed them tactfully, remaining in his room to read;
+walking silently about at twilight. He had a way of standing on a
+hilltop, losing count of minutes, even hours. Thus Adrian surprised him
+one evening gazing down on San Francisco's winking street lamps as the
+night came down.
+
+"Hello, Dave," he said, "why so pensive?"
+
+Quietly as he spoke the other started. "I was wondering about
+tomorrow...."
+
+"Why tomorrow?"
+
+Broderick looked around to satisfy himself that there was no one else to
+hear. "Coleman will withdraw his Vigilante guard from the jail on Sunday
+morning.... Oh, yes," he added, as the other seemed surprised, "I have
+my agents in the Committee's camp. Not to harm them. I don't hold with
+spies and treachery.... But I have to keep informed."
+
+Adrian looked at his friend, astonished. This was news to him.
+Broderick went on: "The Governor's indirectly forced their hand. Coleman
+knows that violent forces are at work to overthrow his Vigilantes; that
+the Governor's aiding them. So he's decided to strike."
+
+"Tomorrow, eh!" said Adrian thoughtfully. "That means bloodshed,
+probably."
+
+Broderick turned a gloomy countenance toward him. "I don't know," he
+answered, and resumed his gazing. Adrian went on. He looked back after
+he had gone a hundred yards. The other man remained there, immobile and
+silent as a statue.
+
+Governor J. Neely Johnson paced up and down the confines of his suite at
+the International Hotel. In a chair sprawled Mayor Van Ness, his fingers
+opening and shutting spasmodically upon the leather upholstery. Volney
+Howard leaned in a swaggering posture against the mantelpiece, smoking a
+big cigar and turning at intervals to expectorate out of one corner of
+his mouth.
+
+"Well," said Howard, "the President's turned us down. We get no Federal
+aid, I understand. What next?"
+
+Johnson stopped his pacing. "I fancy Coleman will have to answer that
+question. Our cue is to wait."
+
+"'He also serves who stands and waits'," quoted Howard sardonically.
+
+There came a knock at the door. Van Ness, arising quickly, answered it.
+A uniformed page stood on the threshold bearing a silver platter on
+which reposed two letters. Something about the incident again aroused
+Howard's sense of humor. "Like a play," he muttered. "'My Lord, the
+carriage waits.'"
+
+With an exclamation of annoyance the Governor stepped forward, took the
+two envelopes, displacing them with a bit of silver, and dismissed the
+boy. He opened both missives before examining either. Then he stood for
+a moment, a rectangle of paper in either hand, frowning.
+
+Van Ness, peering over the Governor's shoulder, read:
+
+We have given up hope for Mr. King's recovery. His death is a matter of
+days, perhaps hours.
+
+     DR. HAMMOND.
+
+     We beg to inform your Excellency that the Vigilance
+     Committee's guard at the county jail has been withdrawn.
+
+     33, SECRETARY.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV
+
+THE COMMITTEE STRIKES
+
+On Sunday morning, May 18th, all of San Francisco was astir at dawn.
+There was none of the usual late breakfasting, the leisurely perusal of
+a morning paper.
+
+In some mysterious fashion word had gone abroad that history would be
+made this morning. The odd and feverish expectancy which rides, an
+unseen herald in the van of large events, was everywhere.
+
+A part of this undue activity resulted from the summoning of male
+members out of nearly three thousand households for military duty to
+begin at 9 o'clock. Long before that hour the general headquarters of
+the Vigilantes swarmed with members.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As a neighboring clock struck noon, the Vigilantes debouched into the
+street, an advance guard of riders clearing that thoroughfare of
+crowding spectators. First came Captain James N. Olney commanding the
+Citizens' Guard of sixty picked men, so soldierly in appearance that
+their coming evoked a cheer.
+
+Company 11, officered by Captain Donnelly and Lieutenant Frank Eastman
+came next, and after them a company of French citizens, very straight
+and gallant in appearance; then a German company. Followed at precise
+and military intervals a score or more of companies, with their gleaming
+bayonets, each standing at attention until the entire host had been
+assembled. Now and then some bystander cried a greeting. On the roofs
+were now a fringe of colored parasols, a fluttering of handkerchiefs.
+One might have deemed it a parade save for a certain grimness, the
+absence of bands. There was a hush as Marshal Doane rode all along the
+line and paused at the head to review his troops. One could hear him
+clearly as he raised his sabre and commanded, "Forward, march!" At the
+sidelines the lieutenants chanted:
+
+"Hup! Hup! Hup-hup-hup!"
+
+Legs began to move in an impressive clock-work unison. Gradually the
+thousands of bayonets took motion, seemed to flow along like some
+strange stream of scintillating lights.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the roof of the International Hotel the Governor, the Mayor,
+Major-General Sherman of the State Militia, Volney Howard and a little
+group of others watched the Vigilantes as they marched up Sacramento
+street. The Governor seemed calm enough; only the spasmodic puffs from
+his cigar betrayed agitation. Van Ness walked back and forth, cramming
+his hands into his breeches pockets and withdrawing them every ten
+seconds. Volney looked down with his usual sardonic smile but his eyes
+were bitter with hate. Sherman alone displayed the placidity of
+a soldier.
+
+"Look at the damned rabble!" exclaimed Howard. "They're dividing. Some
+are going up Pacific street to Kearney, some to Dupont and ... yes, a
+part of them on Stockton."
+
+"It's what you call an enfilading movement," said Sherman quietly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the county jail were Sheriff Scannell, Harrison his deputy, Marshal
+North, Billy Mulligan the jailor, and a small guard. Some of these
+watched proceedings from the roof, now and then descending to report to
+Scannell. Cora, in his cell, played solitaire and Casey made pretense of
+reading a book.
+
+Presently Scannell entered the room where Casey sat; it was not a cell
+nor had the door been locked since the withdrawal of the Vigilante
+guard. Casey looked up quickly. "What's the latest news from King?"
+
+"He's dying, so they say," retorted Scannell.
+
+"Dave," it was almost a whisper. "You've been to Broderick? Curse him,
+won't he turn his hand to help a friend?"
+
+"Easy, Billy," said the Sheriff. "Broderick's never been your friend;
+you know that well enough. Your boss, perhaps. But even so, he couldn't
+help you. No one can.... This town's gone mad."
+
+"What d'ye mean?" asked Casey in a frightened whisper.
+
+"Billy," spoke the Sheriff, "have a drink." He poured a liberal potion
+from a bottle standing on the table. Casey drained the glass, his eyes
+never leaving Scannell's. "Now," resumed the Sheriff, "listen, boy, and
+take it cool. THEY'RE COMING FOR YOU!"
+
+At first Casey made no reply. One might have thought he had not heard,
+save for the widening of his eyes.
+
+"You--you'll not let them take me, Dave?" he said, after a silence.
+"You'll fight?"
+
+Scannell's hand fell on the other's shoulder. "I've only thirty men;
+they're a hundred to one. They've a cannon."
+
+They looked at one another. Casey closed his fists and straightened
+slightly. "Give me a case-knife, Dave," he pleaded. "I'll not let them
+take me. I'll--"
+
+Silently, Scannell drew from his boot a knife in a leather sheath. Casey
+grasped it, feverishly, concealing it beneath his vest. "How soon?" he
+asked, "how soon?"
+
+Scannell strode to the window. "They're outside now," he informed the
+shrinking Casey. "The executive committee's in front ... the Citizens'
+Guard is forming a hollow square around them.... Miers Truett's coming
+to the door."
+
+Casey drew the knife; raised it dramatically. "I'll not let them take
+me," he shouted, as if to bolster up courage by the sound of his own
+voice. "I'll never leave this place alive."
+
+Sheriff Scannell, summoned by a deputy, looked over his shoulder. "Oh,
+yes, you will," he muttered. In his tone were pity and disdain.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Early Tuesday afternoon Benito and Broderick met in front of the
+Montgomery Block. The former had just been released from duty at
+Committee Headquarters, where a guard of 300 men was, night and day,
+maintained.
+
+"Casey has spent most of his time writing since we captured him," Benito
+told his friend. "He recovered his nerve when he found we'd no intention
+of hanging him without a trial. Of course, if King should live, he'll
+get off lightly. And then, there's Cora--"
+
+"Yes, he'll be a problem, if the other one's released," said Broderick.
+"Unless King dies this whole eruption of the Vigilantes will fall flat."
+
+Benito nodded, half reluctantly. "It seems--like destiny," he muttered.
+Suddenly his head jerked upward. "What is that?"
+
+A man came running out of the Montgomery Block. He seemed excited. His
+accelerated pace continued as he sped down Sacramento street. Presently
+another made his exit; ran like mad, uphill, toward the jail.
+
+Dr. Hammond, looking very grim, came hurriedly out of the door and
+entered a closed carriage. It drove off instantly. Then everything went
+on as usual. The two men stood there, watchful, expectant. The town
+seemed unusually still. A flag on a two-story building flapped
+monotonously. Then a man across the street ran out of his store and
+pointed upward. A rope was thrown from an upper window of the Montgomery
+Block. Someone picked it up and carried it to The Bulletin Building,
+pulled it taut. On a strip of linen had been hastily inscribed the
+following announcement, stretched across the street:
+
+"THE GREAT AND GOOD IS DEAD. WHO WILL NOT MOURN?"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVI
+
+RETRIBUTION
+
+Cora's trial was in progress. In the upper front room of Vigilante
+headquarters sat the tribunal upon whose decision Cora's fate would
+rest. They were grouped about a long table, twenty-nine men, the
+executive committee. At their head sat William Coleman, grim and stern,
+despite his clear complexion and his youthful, beardless mien. Near him,
+Isaac Bluxome, keen-eyed, shrewd, efficient, made notes of the
+proceedings.
+
+Cora, affecting an air of nonchalance, and, as ever, immaculate in
+dress, sat between his counsel, Miers F. Truett and Thomas J.L. Smiley,
+while John P. Manrow acted as the prosecutor.
+
+The gambler's eyes were fixed upon the trio when he was not searching
+the faces of those other silent men about the board. They were dressed
+in black. There was about them an air of impassivity almost removed from
+human emotion, and Cora could not but contrast them with the noisy,
+chewing, spitting, red-shirted jury at his previous trial, where Belle
+Cora's thousands had proved efficacious in securing disagreement. There
+would be no disagreement here. Instinctively, Cora knew that.
+
+Marshal Doane entered. He held in his hand a folded paper. Coleman and
+the others looked at him expectantly. "It is my great misfortune to
+report that James King of William is dead," said Doane. There was a buzz
+of comment, almost instantly stilled by Coleman's gavel. "Damn!" said
+the gambler under his breath.
+
+"Gentlemen, we will proceed with the trial," Coleman spoke. The
+examination of witnesses went on. But there was a difference. Cora
+noticed it. Sometimes, with an involuntary, shuddering gesture, he
+touched the skin above his flowing collar.
+
+Casey, when informed of King's death, trembled. "Your trial begins
+tomorrow," Doane informed him. "They'll finish with Cora tonight."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Thursday morning carpenters were seen at work on the Vigilante building.
+A stout beam was projected from the roof over two of the upper windows
+facing Sacramento street; to these pulleys were attached.
+
+Platforms were extended from the window sills. They were about three
+feet long and were seen to be hinged at the sills. The ends were held up
+by ropes fastened to the beams overhead.
+
+Stouter ropes next appeared, one end passing through the pulleys
+overhead, then they were caught up in nooses. The other ends were in the
+committee rooms.
+
+Men tested the platforms by standing on them; tried the nooses; found
+them strong. Then the carpenters retired. The windows were closed.
+
+A crowd below looked up expectantly, but nothing happened until noon,
+when military companies formed lines along Sacramento, Front and Davis
+streets. Cannon were placed to command all possible approaches. The
+great alarm bell of the Vigilantes sounded.
+
+By this time every roof near by was thronged with people. A cry went up
+as the windows of Vigilante headquarters were opened. At each stood a
+man, his arms pinioned. He advanced to the edge of the platform.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Bells were tolling. Black bunting was festooned from hundreds of doors
+and windows. All the flags of the city were at half-mast, even those of
+ships in the Bay.
+
+From the Unitarian Church on Stockton street, between Clay and
+Sacramento, came the funeral cortege on its way to the burial ground at
+Lone Mountain. Everywhere along the route people stood with bared heads.
+
+Little Joe King, a son of the murdered editor, 10 years of age, sat
+stiff and stunned by the strangeness of it all in a carriage beside Mrs.
+John Sime. Mr. and Mrs. Sime were great friends of his father and
+mother, and Mrs. Sime, whom he sometimes called "Auntie," had taken him
+into her carriage, since that of the widow was filled.
+
+Little Joe did not know what to make of it all. He knew, somehow,
+vaguely, that his father had been put into a long box that had silver
+handles and was covered with flowers. He knew of that mystery called
+death, but he had not visualized it closely heretofore. The thing
+overwhelmed him. Just now he could only realize that his father was
+being honored as no one had ever before been honored in San Francisco.
+That was something he could take hold of.
+
+As the carriage approached Sacramento street the crowd thickened. He
+heard a high-pitched voice that seemed almost to be screaming. He made
+out phrases faintly:
+
+"... God!... My poor mother!... Let nobody call ... murderer ... God
+save me ... only 29 ..."
+
+Swiftly the screaming stopped. A strange silence fell on the crowd. They
+turned their heads and looked down Sacramento street. Little Joe could
+stand the curiosity no longer. He craned his neck to see. Far down the
+street soldiers were standing before a building. Everybody watched them
+open-mouthed. In front of the building on a high platform two men stood
+as if they were making speeches. But they did not move their arms, and
+their heads looked very queer ... as if they had bags over them.
+
+Then, unexpectedly, Mrs. Sime forced him back. She pulled the curtain on
+the left side of the carriage. Little Joe heard a half-suppressed roar
+go up from the throng. For an instant the carriage halted. He was
+grievously disappointed not to witness the thing which held the public
+eye. Then the carriage went on.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Later, another funeral wended its way through the streets. It was at
+night and ill attended. A handsome woman followed it with streaming
+eyes; a woman who lived by an evil trade, and the inmates of whose house
+were given over to sin. Early that morning she had married a murderer.
+Now she was a widow with a broken heart--she whom many stigmatized as
+heartless.
+
+For many years she was to visit and to weep over the grave of a little
+dark man who had touched her affections; who might, under happier
+conditions, have awakened her soul. She was Mrs. Charles Cora, born
+Arabella Ryan, and widely known as "Belle," the mistress of a
+bawdy house.
+
+A few members of Casey's fire engine company paid him final honors.
+Shrived, before his execution, he was laid in holy ground, a stone
+erected over his grave.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The city returned more or less to its normal activities. But the
+Vigilante Committee remained in active session. It had avenged the
+deaths of Richardson and King, but it had other work to do.
+
+About this time, Yankee Sullivan, prize-fighter, ballot-box stuffer and
+political plug-ugly, killed himself in Vigilante quarters, evidently mad
+with fear.
+
+Ned McGowan, made of different stuff, arch plotter, thought by many to
+be the instigator of King's murder, went into hiding.
+
+[Illustration: In front of the building on a high platform, two men
+stood.... A half suppressed roar went up from the throng.]
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVII
+
+HINTS OF CIVIL WAR
+
+After the hanging a temporary reaction took place--a let-down from the
+hectic, fevered agitations of preceding days. Members of the Law and
+Order Party were secretly relieved by the removal of Casey and Cora.
+
+"Now that they've shot their bolt, we'll have peace," said Hall
+McAllister to Broderick. But the latter shook his head. "They've only
+started, Mac," he answered, "don't deceive yourself. These Vigilantes
+are business men; they've a business-like organization. Citizens are
+still enlisting ... seven thousand now, I understand."
+
+"Damn them!" said the lawyer, broodingly, "what d'ye think they'll be up
+to next?"
+
+"Don't damn them too much." Broderick's smile held a grim sort of humor.
+"They're going to break up a political organization it's taken me years
+to perfect. That ought to please you a little."
+
+McAllister laughed. The two men shook hands and parted. They were
+political enemies--McAllister of the Southern or "Chivalry" clan, which
+yearned to make a slave State out of California; Broderick an
+uncompromising Northerner and Abolitionist. Yet they respected one
+another, and a queer, almost secret friendship existed between them.
+Farther down the street Broderick met Benito. "I've just been talking
+with your boss," he said.
+
+"No longer," Windham informed him. "McAllister didn't like my Vigilante
+leanings. So we parted amiably enough. I'll study law on my own hook
+from now on. I've had a bit of good luck."
+
+"Ah," said the other. "Glad to hear it. An inheritance?"
+
+"Something like it," Windham answered. "Do you remember when I went to
+the mines I met a man named Burthen? Alice's father, you know. We had a
+mining claim together," His brow clouded. "He was murdered at the
+Eldorado.... Well, that's neither here nor there.... But it left me the
+claim. I didn't think it was worth much. But I've sold it to an Eastern
+syndicate."
+
+"Good!" cried Broderick. "Congratulations."
+
+They shook hands. "Ten thousand," Benito informed him. "We've had an
+offer for the ranch, too. Company wants to make it into small
+allotments.... Think of that! A few years ago we were far in the
+country. Now it's suburban property. They're even talking of
+street cars."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At Vigilante Headquarters Benito found unusual activity. Drays were
+backing up to the doors, unloading bedding, cots, a number of
+cook-stoves. Men were carrying in provisions. Coleman came out with
+Bluxome. They surveyed the work a moment, chatting earnestly,
+then parted.
+
+"We're equipping a commissary and barracks," thus a member informed
+Benito. "Doesn't look much like disbanding, does it? The Chivs. think
+we're through. No such luck. This is costing me $50 a day in my
+business," he sighed. "We've got a dozen blacklegs, shoulder-strikers
+and ballot-stuffers in there now, awaiting trial. We've turned all the
+petty offenders over to the police."
+
+Benito laughed. "And have you noticed this: The Police Courts are
+convicting every single one of them promptly!"
+
+"Yes, they're learning their lessons ... but we've trouble ahead. These
+Southerners and politicians have the Governor in their pocket. He's sent
+two men to Washington to ask the President for troops. Farragut has
+been asked to bombard the city. He's refused. But General Wool has
+promised them arms from Benicia if the Governor and Sherman prove that
+anarchy exists."
+
+"They can't," Benito contended.
+
+"Not by fair means, no.... But that won't stop them. Yesterday Chief
+Justice Terry of the Supreme Court issued a habeas corpus writ for Billy
+Mulligan, Harrison came down today and served it."
+
+"What happened?" asked Benito, eagerly.
+
+"Well, the hotheads wanted to resist--to throw him out. But Bluxome saw
+through the scheme--to get us on record as defying Federal authority. So
+he hid Billy Mulligan and let Harrison search. Of course he found no
+one. We were politely regretful."
+
+"Which settles that," remarked Benito, chuckling.
+
+"Not so fast, old boy!" the other Vigilante cautioned. "Harrison's no
+fool. He couldn't go back outwitted.... So he simply lied. Wrote on the
+warrant, 'service resisted by force.'"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the following day Major General Sherman of the State Militia received
+the following document, dated "Executive Department, Sacramento, June
+2d, 1856":
+
+     Information having been received by me that an armed body of
+     men are now organized in the City and County of San
+     Francisco, in this State, in violation of law; and that they
+     have resisted the due execution of law by preventing a
+     service of a writ of habeas corpus duly issued; and that they
+     are threatening other acts of violence and rebellion against
+     the constitution and the laws of the State; you are hereby
+     commanded to call upon such number as you may deem necessary
+     of the enrolled militia, or those subject to military duty,
+     also upon all the voluntary independent companies of the
+     military division under your command--to report, organize,
+     etc., and act with you in the enforcement of the law.
+
+     J. NEELY JOHNSON.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Two days after the Governor's proclamation half a dozen of the prisoners
+in "Fort Gunnybags" were exiled by the Vigilance Committee. Each, after
+a regular and impartial trial, was found guilty of offenses against the
+law. The sentence was banishment, with death as the penalty for return.
+Under a strong guard of Vigilance Committee police the malodorous sextet
+were marched through town, and placed aboard the steamer Hercules. A
+squad of Vigilantes remained until the vessel left her dock to see that
+they did not escape. Thus did the Committee answer Governor Johnson's
+proclamation. The fortification of the Vigilante Headquarters went on.
+Hundreds of gunnysacks filled with sand were piled in front of the
+building as a protection against artillery fire. This continued for days
+until a barricade ten feet high and six feet thick had been erected with
+embrasures for cannon and a loop-holed platform for riflemen. Cannon
+were placed on the roof of the building where the old Monumental
+firebell had been installed as a tocsin of war.
+
+In the meantime Sherman was enrolling men. They came in rather fast,
+most of them law-breakers seeking protection, and a small minority of
+reputable citizens honestly opposed to Vigilante methods. But the
+armories were bare of rifles and ammunition. Sherman dispatched a hasty
+requisition to General Wool, reminding him of his promise. Days passed
+and no arms arrived. The new recruits were calling for them. Some of
+them drilled with wooden staves and were laughed at. They quit in
+disgust. Then Sherman went to Sacramento. Something was wrong. Johnson,
+nervous and distraught, showed him a letter from General Wool. It was
+briefly and politely to the effect that he had no authority to issue
+arms without a permit from the War Department.
+
+Sherman, always for action, seized his hat. "Come," he said, as though
+the Governor were a subaltern. "We'll go to Benicia. We must have a talk
+with General Wool." And the Governor went.
+
+But Wool, though courteous, proved obdurate. The militia remained
+unarmed.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVIII
+
+SHERMAN RESIGNS
+
+On Saturday, June 7, Benito found Coleman sitting at his desk in the
+executive chamber of Fort Gunnysacks. His usually cheerful countenance
+wore an anxious look, a look of inner conflict. He glanced up, almost
+startled, as Benito entered.
+
+"Fred Macondray and his party are outside," said Windham. "They would
+like to see you."
+
+"What do they wish?" asked Coleman in a harassed tone.
+
+"They're leaving for Benicia today to see the Governor," Benito
+answered. "Want your final word on mediation matters."
+
+Coleman rose with a brisk movement. He paced the room half a dozen
+times, his hands behind him, his head slightly bent, before he spoke.
+
+"Bring 'em in. Call Bluxome and as many of the Executive Committee as
+you can find."
+
+Benito departed. Presently there filed into the room nine gentlemen,
+headed by Macondray. They belonged neither to the Vigilantes nor to the
+Law and Order Party. And they were now bent on averting a clash
+between the two.
+
+"William," Macondray, acting as the spokesman, "what message shall we
+take the Governor?"
+
+Bluxome, Smiley, Dempster and others of the Executive Committee entered.
+Coleman explained to them the purpose of Macondray and his friends.
+"What shall we say to them, boys?" he asked.
+
+"Put it in your own words," Bluxome said. "We'll stand by what you
+say."
+
+Coleman faced Macondray and his companions. "Tell J. Neely Johnson," he
+announced, "that if he will consent to withdraw his proclamation we
+will, on our part, make no further parade of our forces on the street,
+nor will we resist by force any orders of the court."
+
+Bluxome and his companions nodded. Macondray looked a trifle puzzled.
+"Suppose he declines to withdraw the proclamation?" he asked,
+hesitatingly.
+
+"Then," the voice of Coleman rang, "we promise nothing."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the boat which took them to Benicia, Macondray and his friends met
+Major-General Sherman of the State Militia. They found him striding up
+and down the deck, chewing his cigar. Macondray and he compared notes.
+Sherman had been summoned for an interview with Johnson. The Governor
+planned a final onslaught of persuasion, hoping General Wool would
+change his mind; would furnish arms for the militia.
+
+"If he doesn't, it's useless. Men can't fight without guns." Macondray
+thought he noted an undertone of relief in Sherman's words.
+
+"Do you think he'll give them to you?" Macondray asked in an undertone.
+Sherman slowly shook his head. He walked away, as though he dreaded
+further questioning.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At Benicia, Sherman and the Macondray party rode up in the same 'bus to
+the Solano House. Sherman was admitted at once. The committee was asked
+to wait. Sherman entered a room blue with tobacco smoke. It contained
+four men, besides the Governor: Chief Justice David S. Terry, a tall man
+with a hard face, sat tilted back in a chair, his feet on the Governor's
+table. He had not taken off his hat. Without moving or apparently
+looking in that direction, he spat at regular intervals toward the
+fireplace. Near him sat Edward S. Baker, statesmanlike, impressive,
+despite his drink-befuddlement; Edward Jones, of Palmer, Cook & Co.,
+smaller, shrewd, keen and avaricious-eyed, was pouring a drink from a
+decanter; Volney Howard, fat, pompous, aping a blasé, decadent manner,
+stood, as usual, near the mantel.
+
+They all looked up as Sherman entered. Terry favored him with a
+half-concealed scowl; Howard with an open sneer; Jones with deprecating
+hostility. Baker smiled. The Governor, who seemed each day to grow more
+nervous and irritable, held out his hand.
+
+"Well, well, Sherman," he greeted, "glad to see you." Then his brow knit
+in a kind of puzzled provocation. "What's that Vigilante Committee doing
+here with you?"
+
+Terry grunted and spat. Sherman looked them over with a repulsion he
+could not completely conceal. They were men of violent prejudices. It
+was bad to see the Governor so completely in their grasp.
+
+"They are not Vigilantes, your Excellency," he began with punctilious
+hauteur.
+
+"The hell they're not!" said Terry.
+
+Sherman ignored him completely. "My meeting with them was purely
+casual," he resumed. "They are prominent, impartial citizens of San
+Francisco, seeking to make peace. They have, I understand, seen Coleman;
+are prepared to offer certain compromises."
+
+"Aha!" cried Howard, "the rabble is caving in. They're ready to quit."
+
+Johnson looked at Sherman as if for confirmation. He shook his head.
+"Far from it."
+
+"Cannot they state their business in writing?" asked Johnson.
+
+"Send them packing, the damned pork merchants!" Terry said, as if
+issuing a command.
+
+Again the Governor seemed to hesitate. Again his glance sought
+Sherman's. "That would be unwise," returned the soldier.
+
+The Governor summoned a clerk. "Ask the committee to put their business
+in writing!" he ordered. When the man had gone he once more addressed
+Sherman: "Wool absolutely refuses to provide the militia with arms."
+
+Terry's fist smote the table with a crash. A stream of vituperation
+issued from his lips. General Wool, the Vigilance Committee and Admiral
+Farragut were vilified in terms so crude that even the other men
+surveyed the Chief Justice with distaste.
+
+Sherman turned to the door. "Governor, I've had enough of this," he
+spoke sharply. "I shall send you my resignation tonight." He went out,
+leaving Johnson to mutter distressedly. "Never mind," said Terry, "give
+his job to Volney. He'll drive the damned pork merchants into the sea."
+
+"What about rifles and ammunition?" asked Howard with sudden
+practicality.
+
+They looked at each other blankly. Then the wily Jones came forward with
+a shrewd suggestion. "Wool can't refuse you the regular quota of arms
+for annual replenishment," he said. "Get those by requisition. Ship them
+down to San Francisco. Reub Maloney is here. He'll carry them down in
+a sloop."
+
+"But they're only a few hundred guns," said the Governor.
+
+"They'll help," contended Jones. "They'll make a showing."
+
+"Suppose Coleman hears about it; he'll seize them on the bay."
+
+"Then he'll commit an act of 'piracy'," Baker said, explosively.
+
+Terry took his feet from the table, rose. "By God!" he exclaimed,
+"there's an idea! Piracy! A capital offense!" He crammed his hands into
+his pockets and strode heavily up and down.
+
+"Coleman's not likely to hear of our sending these arms," said the
+Governor.
+
+Jones poured another drink and sipped it. "Isn't he, though?" He laughed
+softly. "You fellows just leave that to me." He caught up his hat
+and went out.
+
+"A smart little man," remarked Howard Baker, complacently.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIX
+
+TERRY STABS HOPKINS
+
+The peace-makers took an early boat for San Francisco. They were
+hopelessly alienated from the Law and Order Party. After some
+deliberation they decided to call a mass meeting in front of the
+Oriental Hotel. Thus they hoped to make the Vigilante sentiment
+practically unanimous and request through popular acclaim, a withdrawal
+of the Governor's proclamation.
+
+Early on June 14, the day appointed, citizens began to gather at Bush
+and Battery streets; by noon they blocked both thoroughfares and
+overflowed into Market street. Each window, roof and balcony near by was
+filled. Women in their summer finery lent gay splashes of color, waved
+parasols or handkerchiefs excitedly at their acquaintances below.
+
+Inez Windham called to David Broderick, who was passing, "There's room
+for one more on our balcony. Come up." As he stood behind her in the
+window, stooping a little, she looked eagerly into his careworn face.
+"One might think it was a circus." He smiled.
+
+"You remind me of champagne, you San Franciscans. The inherent quality
+of you is sparkle.... Even if an earthquake came along and swallowed
+you, I think you'd go down with that same light, laughing nonchalance."
+
+Mrs. Stanley made a moue at him. "You find us--different from your
+Eastern ladies, Mr. Broderick?" she asked expectantly.
+
+He considered for a moment. "Sometimes I think it is the land more
+than the women. They come from everywhere--with all their varied
+prejudices, modes, conventions. But, after a time, they become
+Californians--like you."
+
+"That's what Benito says," returned his sister. "He's daft about San
+Francisco. He calls it his Golden City. I think"--she leaned nearer,
+"but you must not say I told you--I think he has written poetry
+about it."
+
+"Ah, yes," said Broderick, "he has that strain. And how is Alice?"
+
+"Alice is well," he heard Inez say. Then a great shout from the street
+silenced their converse. Colonel Bailie Peyton was speaking.
+
+"We are here to consider principles of the first magnitude and which may
+result in the shedding of innocent blood. One of the objects of this
+meeting is to prevent so dire a calamity.
+
+"The Vigilance Committee must be sustained or put down. If they are put
+down it must be at the point of the bayonet. The question is whether we
+shall appeal to the Governor to put them down in this way, or whether we
+shall ask him to withdraw his opposition."
+
+He looked up at the balconies across the street.
+
+"The Vigilance Committeemen have the prayers of the churches on their
+side, and the smiles of the ladies--God bless them."
+
+There were cheers and applause.
+
+Again his voice rose to crescendo:
+
+"Let us show the Governor that if he fights the Committee he will have
+to walk over more dead bodies than can be disposed of in the cemetery.
+Let us indorse all the Committeemen have done. Let us be ready to fight
+for them if necessary."
+
+The crowd broke into wild huzzas. Volney Howard and Richard Ashe, the
+naval officer, paused on a near-by corner, attracted by the uproar.
+Howard scowled and muttered something about "damned pork merchants,"
+but he looked uneasy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Vigilance Committee, undaunted by Governor Johnson's proclamation or
+the efforts of the Law and Order element, continued quietly the work of
+ridding San Francisco of its criminals and undesirables.
+
+On June 10 the National Guard of San Francisco disbanded and Marshal
+Hampton North resigned. Rumor had it that the Vigilance Committee's work
+was finished. On July 4 they would disband with a great public
+demonstration, it was rumored. Coleman did not deny this.
+
+On July 19 came news that rifles and ammunition were being shipped from
+Benicia; Wool was said at last to have capitulated. But it turned out to
+be a small annual replenishment order of 130 muskets with a few rounds
+of powder and ball. Later came the exciting rumors that John Durkee,
+Charles Rand and a crew of ten men had captured the sloop carrying these
+arms on the bay; had arrested Reuben Maloney, John Phillips and a man
+named McNab. The arms were brought to Committee Headquarters in San
+Francisco. On arrival there, perhaps through oversight, the prisoners
+were released.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Vigilance Committee made two serious mistakes. They fell into the
+Law and Order trap by committing an act of technical piracy. From this
+Durkee saved them by taking upon himself the legal onus of the seizure.
+The second error, though a minor one, proved much more serious. They
+sent Sterling Hopkins, a vainglorious, witless, overzealous wight, to
+rearrest Maloney. Coleman was not responsible for this; nor were the
+Vigilantes in a larger sense, for a few hotheads in temporary command
+issued the order. Hopkins, glorying in the quest, for any errand of
+authority made him big with pride, set out alone to execute it. He found
+Maloney in the office of Dr. Richard P. Ashe, United States naval
+agent. Ashe was companioned by adherents of the Law and Order faction,
+among them Justice David S. Terry.
+
+Pushing the doorkeeper rudely aside, Hopkins entered the room. "Come
+with me, Reub Maloney," he commanded, "you're under arrest."
+
+Maloney shrank into a corner. Ashe stepped in the constable's path. "Get
+out of here!" he thundered. "As a Federal officer I order you
+to begone!"
+
+"And I, as a judge and a Southern gentleman, will kick you out, suh."
+Judge Terry moved menacing forward. His eyes flashed. Several others
+joined him. They took Hopkins by the shoulders and pushed him none too
+gently out of the room. The door closed. He stood for a moment in the
+hall, muttering in his outraged dignity. Then he turned and ran toward
+Fort Vigilance.
+
+"We've scared the dirty peddler," Ashe said, as they watched his flying
+footsteps from a window.
+
+"He's gone for reinforcements," said another. "Let's get out of here.
+The Blues' armory is better." There was some argument. Finally, however,
+armed with pistols, they sought the street, forming a guard around
+Maloney. But they had not proceeded far down Jackson street when Hopkins
+came upon them with nine men. Both parties halted, Judge Terry standing
+in front of the prisoner; Hopkins, who was no coward for all his pompous
+tactlessness, advanced determinedly. He reached around the Judge and
+clutched at Maloney's arm. "I arrest you in the name of the Committee."
+
+"To hell with your Committee!" shouted Terry. He struck Hopkins' arm
+away and poked a derringer in the policeman's face.
+
+Hopkins countered; the pistol went flying. Terry staggered back, while
+Hopkins made another clutch at his intended prisoner.
+
+Then occurred, with lightning speed, an unexpected thing. Terry,
+recovering his balance, sprang forward, drew the bowie knife he always
+carried and plunged it, with a vicious thrust, into Hopkins' neck.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER L
+
+THE COMMITTEE DISBANDS
+
+Alice Windham and her little son, named Robert for his grandfather, were
+passing Coleman's store, en route to Benito's office; it was a pleasant,
+quiet afternoon, almost windless. The infant Robert toddled manfully
+along on his five-year legs, holding tightly to his mother's hand.
+
+Men began to rush by, jostling them in their haste. The child drew
+closer to his mother. More men passed. Some of them were carrying guns.
+Coleman, emerging hurriedly, stopped at sight of Mrs. Windham.
+
+"Better go inside," he advised, "there's trouble afoot." He picked up
+the now frightened child and escorted the mother to his office. "Sit
+down," he invited. "It's comfortable here ... and safe."
+
+Before she could thank him he was off. At the door Miers Truett hailed
+him. "Hopkins stabbed," she heard him pant. He had been running. "May
+die ... Terry did it."
+
+They went off together. Other men stood in the doorway. "By the
+Eternal!" one was saying. "A Judge of the Supreme Court! What will
+Coleman do? They can't arrest Terry."
+
+There was a silence. Then the Monumental Fire Engine bell began to toll.
+"Come on," the second man spoke with a kind of thrill. "That's
+Coleman's answer."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Terry, Ashe and their companions ran pell mell up Jackson street until
+they reached the armory of the San Francisco Blues. It was rather an
+ornate building, guarded by iron doors. These stood open as the
+fugitives entered, but were immediately closed and guarded by a posse
+of pursuing Vigilantes, effectually preventing Law and Order
+reinforcements from the outside.
+
+Meanwhile the wounded Hopkins, screaming that he was murdered, had been
+carried into the Pennsylvania Engine House close by. Dr. Beverly Cole,
+the Vigilante surgeon chief, was summoned and pronounced the wound a
+serious one. Thereupon the bell was tolled.
+
+Half an hour later several thousand men under Marshal Doane marched to
+the armory. In front of it he drew up his forces and knocked on the
+inner portal.
+
+"What d'ye want?" came the heavy bass of David Terry, a little less
+arrogant than usual.
+
+"The committee has ordered the arrest of yourself and your party,"
+answered Doane. "Will you come quietly?"
+
+There was excited murmuring; then Terry's heavy tones once more: "Do you
+mean that you will attack the person of a Supreme Court Justice?" he
+asked half incredulous.
+
+"We will arrest all those who commit or attempt murder."
+
+More whispering.
+
+"Very well," said Terry. "I will not subject my friends to violence....
+But I warn you that the consequences will be serious."
+
+Doane ignored this, waiting quietly until the door was opened. Then he
+detailed a guard for the prisoners. At 4 o'clock--an hour after Hopkins
+had been wounded--Terry, Ashe and half a dozen others were locked in
+cells at Fort Vigilance. Once more the town was quiet.
+
+"It is all over," Benito told his wife, whom he found in Coleman's
+office. "We can go home now." Little Robert slept. His mother picked him
+up gently.
+
+"What will they do with Judge Terry?" she asked in an excited whisper.
+
+"If Hopkins dies they'll hang him sure as shooting," said Benito.
+
+Sterling Hopkins did not die, despite the serious nature of his wound.
+Had he done so many a different chapter might have been recorded in the
+history of San Francisco. Hopkins lived to pass into inconsequence.
+Terry was released to wreak once more his violent hatred on a fellow
+being, to perish in a third and final outburst of that savagery which
+marred his whole career.
+
+Captain Ashe and others taken in the Terry raid were soon released upon
+parole. The Supreme Court Judge remained a prisoner in Fort Vigilance
+for many weeks.
+
+After days and nights of wrestling with the situation, the Committee
+judged the prisoner guilty of assault. As the usual punishment within
+their power to inflict was not applicable in this case, the prisoner was
+discharged. It was pointedly suggested that the best interests of the
+State demanded his resignation. To this, however, Terry paid no heed.
+
+Broderick, who had been out of town, campaigning, met Ike Bluxome on
+Montgomery street.
+
+"I thought you folks were going to disband," he spoke half-banteringly.
+And Bluxome answered with, his usual gravity. "We thought so, too ...
+but Terry jumped into the picture. Now he's boasting that the Committee
+didn't dare to hold him longer." Bluxome smiled faintly. "He was meek
+enough till Hopkins had recovered ... offered to resign and quit the
+State forever."
+
+"I believe in Terry," Broderick remarked. "He's quarrelsome, but
+brave--and honest as a judge. I spent a lot of money in a newspaper
+fight to help him through this mess."
+
+Bluxome eyed him keenly. "Yes, I know you did. I know you were sincere,
+too, Broderick. That's why we didn't bother you for bribing the editors.
+But you will get no thanks from Terry. He's against you on the slavery
+question. He'd kill you tomorrow if he got a chance. You or any other
+man that's in his way. Watch out for him."
+
+"Nonsense," said Broderick, and walked away.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On August 18th the Vigilantes paraded for the last time. There were four
+artillery batteries with an armament of fifteen cannon. Then came the
+Executive Committee followed by two companies of dragoons, each preceded
+by a band; the medical staff of fifty members, the Committee of 1851,
+some half a hundred strong, and four regiments of infantry.
+
+San Francisco was ablaze with decorations, vibrant with enthusiasm. Men,
+women, children, turned out to do the Vigilantes honor. A float symbolic
+of Fort Gunnybags was wildly cheered.
+
+Benito Windham, Adrian Stanley and their families stood at the window of
+an office which had "B. Windham, Attorney and Counselor," inscribed upon
+its door. Benito had but recently passed his law examination and Alice
+was accordingly proud.
+
+Broderick, who stood near her with an arm about young Robert, looked out
+at the pageant.
+
+"They have been my enemies," he said, "but I take off my hat to your
+Committee. They have done a wondrous work, Benito lad."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LI
+
+SENATOR BRODERICK
+
+Swept clear of its lesser rascals, San Francisco still, ostensibly, was
+ruled by Freelon, Scannell, Byrne and other officials of the former city
+government, who had defied the people's invitation to resign. They did
+little more than mark time, however. Jury-packing was at an end for the
+Committee had posted publicly the names of men unfit to judge their
+fellows, and the courts had wisely failed to place them on venires.
+
+"Wait till November," was the watchword. And San Francisco waited. A
+committee of twenty-one was appointed at a mass meeting shortly before
+the city election. By this body were selected candidates for all
+municipal offices. Their ticket was the most diversified, perhaps, that
+ever was presented to a city's voters, for it included northern and
+southern men, Republicans, Democrats, Know-Nothings, Jews, Catholics and
+Protestants. Yet there was an extraordinary basic homogeneity about
+them. All were honest and respected business men, pledged to serve the
+city faithfully and selflessly. Former Marshal Doane of Vigilante fame
+was chosen as chief of police.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Broderick was the Windhams' guest at their new home on Powell street
+overlooking the bay when Benito's clerk brought them news of
+the election.
+
+"Every reform candidate wins by a landslide," cried the youth
+enthusiastically. "I cast my first vote today, Mr. Windham," he said
+proudly, "and I'm glad to know that the ballot-box had no false bottom."
+He turned to Broderick. "Your men fared mighty well too, sir,
+considering--" He paused and reddened, but the politician clapped him,
+laughing, on the shoulder. "That's right, my boy. Be honest,"
+he declared.
+
+"It means you'll be our Senator next year," the lad said staunchly,
+holding out his hand. "They're all saying so down town. Allow me to
+congratulate you, sir."
+
+The keen, half-smiling eyes of Broderick took stock of Herbert Waters.
+Tall, shy and awkward, with a countenance fresh, unmarked, but eager and
+alert with clean ideals.
+
+"Thank you, son," he pressed the lad's hand vigorously. "Perhaps ... if
+I should get to Washington, there'll be a place for you. You'll like it,
+wouldn't you? To see a little of the world?"
+
+"Would I?" cried the youth, delighted. "Try me." He departed, treading
+on air. Alice Windham shook a finger at her guest. "Dave, you mustn't
+trifle with our little protégé.... But you did it charmingly. Tell me,
+will you have to go about now, kissing babies and all that sort
+of thing?"
+
+"No doubt," he answered gaily. "So I'll practice on your little Bob." He
+caught the child up in his arms. "Got a kiss for Uncle Dave?" he asked.
+
+Robert's response was instant and vehement. Laughing, Broderick took
+from an inner pocket a long and slender parcel, which he unwrapped with
+tantalizing slowness. It revealed at last a gaily painted
+monkey-on-a-stick which clambered up and down with marvelous agility
+when Broderick pulled a string.
+
+"This, my little man," he said half soberly, "is how we play the game of
+politics." He made the jointed figure race from top to bottom while his
+eyes were rather grim. "Here, you try it, Bobbie," he said. "I've played
+with it long enough."
+
+Broderick came to them aglow with triumph. He was a big man now, a
+national figure. Only a short time ago he had been a discredited boss of
+municipal politics. Now he was going to Washington. He had made William
+Gwin, the magnificent, do homage. He had all of the federal patronage
+for California. For years it had gone to Southern men. San Francisco's
+governmental offices had long been known as "The Virginia Poorhouse."
+Now its plums would be apportioned to the politicians of the North.
+
+Everywhere one heard the praise of Broderick's astuteness. He had a way
+of making loyal friends. A train of them had followed him through years
+of more or less continuous defeat and now they were rejoicing in the
+prospect of reward.
+
+He was explaining this to Alice. Trying to at least. "One has to pay his
+debts," he told her. "These men have worked for me as hard as any
+factory slaves. And without any definite certainty of compensation. Do
+you remember young Waters who came here last December to congratulate
+me? Yes, of course, he was Benito's clerk. I'd forgotten that. Well,
+what did that young rascal do but grow a beard and hire out as a waiter
+in the Magnolia Hotel. He overheard some plots against me in a corner of
+the dining room. And thus we were prepared to checkmate all the
+movements of the enemy.... I call that smart. I'll see that he gets a
+good berth. A senate clerkship. Something of the sort."
+
+"When do you leave?" asked Alice quickly.
+
+"Tomorrow.... Gwin is going also. I'll stop over in New York." He smiled
+at her. "When I left there I told my friends I'd not return until I was
+a senator. Eight years ago that was.... And now I'm making good my
+promise." He laughed boyishly.
+
+"You're very happy over it, aren't you, Dave?" she said with a shadow of
+wistfulness.
+
+"Why, yes, to be sure," he answered. His eyes held hers. "I'll miss
+you, of course.... All of you." He spoke with a touch of restraint.
+
+"And we'll miss YOU." She said more brightly, "I know you will do us
+much honor ... there in the nation's capital." Her hand went half way
+out toward him and drew back. "You'll fight always ... for the right
+alone ... Dave Broderick."
+
+He took a step toward her. "By God! I will promise you that. I'm through
+with ward politics, with tricks and intriguing. I'm going to fight for
+Freedom ... against Slavery. They're trying to fasten Slavery onto
+Kansas. President Buchanan is a Pennsylvanian but he's dominated by the
+Southern men. Washington is dominated by them. There aren't more than
+half a dozen who are not afraid of them." He drew himself up. "But I'm
+one. Douglas of Illinois is another. And Seward of New York. I've heard
+from them. We stand together."
+
+He laughed a shade bitterly. "It's difficult to fancy, isn't it? Dave
+Broderick, the son of a stone mason, a former fireman, bartender,
+ward-boss--fighting for an ideal? Against the Solid South?"
+
+She came closer. "Dave, you must not say such things." She looked about
+her. They were alone in the room, for Benito had gone out with Robert.
+"Dave, we're proud of you.... And I--I shall always see you, standing in
+the Senate Chamber, battling, like a Knight of Old...."
+
+Her face was upturned to his. His hands clenched themselves. With a
+swift movement he caught up his hat and stick. Fled from the house
+without a good-bye.
+
+As he went down the hill with long strides, his mind was torn between a
+fierce pride in his proven strength and a heart-wrecked yearning.
+
+He started the next morning for Washington.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LII
+
+A TRIP TO CHINATOWN
+
+Samuel Brannan brought the first news from Washington. Gwin, who owed
+his place to Broderick, had after all betrayed him. The bargained-for
+double patronage was not forthcoming. Broderick was grievously
+disappointed in Buchanan. There had been a clash between them. No
+Democratic Senator, the President had said, could quarrel profitably
+with the Administration. Which meant that Broderick must sustain the
+Lecompton Resolution or lose face and favor in the nation's forum.
+Things were at a bitter pass.
+
+"What's the Lecompton Resolution?" Alice asked.
+
+"It's a long story," Brannan answered. "In brief, it means forcing
+slavery on Kansas, whose people don't want it. And on the Lecompton
+Resolution hinges more or less the balance of power, which will keep us,
+here, in the free States, or give us, bound and gagged, to the South."
+
+"And you say Gwin has repudiated his pact?"
+
+"Either that ... or Buchanan has refused to sanction it. The result is
+the same. David doesn't get his patronage."
+
+"I'm glad! I'm glad!" cried Alice.
+
+Brannan looked at her astonished. "But ... you don't know what it means.
+His men, awaiting their political rewards! His organization here ... it
+will be weakened. You don't understand, Mrs. Windham."
+
+"I don't care," she said. "It leaves him--cleaner--stronger!" She turned
+swiftly and left the room. Brannan shrugged his shoulders. "There's no
+fathoming women," he thought.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But Broderick, in far Washington, understood when there came to him a
+letter. It bore neither signature nor salutation:
+
+"When one is stripped of weapons--sometimes it is by the will of God!
+And He does not fail to give us better ones.
+
+"Truth! Righteousness! Courage to attack all Evil. These are mightier
+than the weapons of the World.
+
+"Oh, my friend, stand fast! You are never alone. The spirit of another
+is forever with you. Watching--waiting--knowing you shall win the
+victory which transcends all price."
+
+He read this letter endlessly while people waited in his ante-room. Then
+he summoned Herbert Waters, now his secretary, and sent them all away.
+Among them was a leader of the New York money-powers who never forgave
+that slight; another was an emissary of the President. Broderick neither
+knew nor cared. He put the letter in his pocket; walked for hours in the
+snow, on the banks of the frozen Potomac.
+
+That afternoon he reviewed the situation, was closeted an hour with
+Douglas of Illinois. The two of them sought Seward of New York, who had
+just arrived. To their conference came Chase and Wade of Ohio, Trumbull
+of Illinois, Fessenden of Maine, Wilson of Massachusetts, Cameron of
+Pennsylvania.
+
+Soon thereafter Volney Howard in San Francisco received an unsigned
+telegram, supposedly from Gwin:
+
+Unexpected gathering anti-slavery forces. Looks bad for Lecompton
+Resolution. President worried about California.
+
+In the southeastern part of San Francisco a few tea and silk merchants
+had, years before, established the nucleus of an Oriental quarter.
+Gradually it had grown until there were provision shops where
+queer-looking dried vegetables, oysters strung necklace-wise on rings of
+bamboo, eggs preserved in a kind of brown mold, strange brown nuts and
+sweetmeats were displayed; there were drugs-shops with wondrous gold and
+ebony fret work, temples with squat gods above amazing shrines.
+
+There were stark-odored fish-stalls in alleyways so narrow that the sun
+touched them rarely, barred upper-windows from which the faces of
+slant-eyed women peeped in eager wistfulness as if upon an unfamiliar
+world. Cellar doorways from which slipper-shod, pasty-faced Cantonese
+crept furtively at dawn; sentineled portals, which gave ingress to
+gambling houses protected by sheet-iron doors.
+
+On a pleasant Sunday, early in February, Benito, Alice, Adrian and Inez
+walked in Chinatown with David Broderick. The latter was about to leave
+for Washington to attend his second session in Congress. Things had
+fared ill with him politically there and at home.
+
+Just now David Broderick was trying to forget Congress and those battles
+which the next few weeks were sure to bring. He wanted to carry with him
+to Washington the memory of Alice Windham as she walked beside him in
+the mellow Winter sunshine. An odor of fruit blossoms came to them
+almost unreally sweet, and farther down the street they saw many little
+street-stands where flowering branches of prune and almond were
+displayed.
+
+"It's their New Year festival," Adrian explained. "Come, we'll visit
+some of the shops; they'll give us tea and cakes, for that's
+their custom."
+
+"How interesting!" remarked Inez. She shook hands cordially with a
+grave, handsomely gowned Chinese merchant, whose emporium they now
+entered. To her astonishment he greeted her in perfect English. "A
+graduate of Harvard College," Broderick whispered in her ear.
+
+Wong Lee brought forward a tray on which was an assortment of strange
+sweetmeats in little porcelain dishes; he poured from a large tea-pot a
+tiny bowl of tea for each of his visitors. While they drank and nibbled
+at the candy he pressed his hands together, moved them up and down and
+bowed low as a visitor entered; the latter soon departed, apparently
+abashed by the Americans.
+
+"He would not mingle with the 'foreign devils,'" Broderick smiled. "That
+was Chang Foo, who runs the Hall of Everlasting Fortune, wasn't it?"
+
+"Yes, the gambling house," Wong Lee answered. "A bad man," his voice
+sank to a whisper. "Chief of the Hip Lee tong, for the protection of the
+trade in slave women. He came, no doubt, to threaten me because I am
+harboring a Christian convert. See," he opened a drawer and took
+therefrom a rectangle of red paper. "Last night this was found on my
+door. It reads something like this:
+
+"Withdraw your shelter from the renegade Po Lun, who renounces the gods
+of his fathers. Send him forth to meet his fate--lest the blade of an
+avenger cleave your meddling skull."
+
+"Po was a member of the Hip Yees when he was converted; they stole a
+Chinese maiden--his beloved and Po Sun hoped to rescue her. That is why
+he joined that band of rascals."
+
+"And did he succeed?" asked Alice.
+
+"No," Wong Lee sighed. "They spirited her away--out of the city. She is
+doubtless in some slave house at Vancouver or Seattle. Poor Po! He is
+heartbroken."
+
+"And what of yourself; are you not in danger?" Broderick questioned.
+
+Wong smiled wanly. "Until the New Year season ends I am safe at any
+rate."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIII
+
+ENTER PO LUN
+
+Broderick returned to Washington; he wrote seldom, but the newspapers
+printed, now and then, extracts from his speeches. The Democrats were
+once more a dominating power and their organs naturally attacked the
+California Senator who defied both President and party; they asserted
+that Broderick was an ignorant boor, whose speeches were written for him
+by a journalist named Wilkes. But they did not explain how Broderick
+more than held his own in extemporaneous debate with the nation's
+seasoned orators. Many of these would have taken advantage of his
+inexperience, for he was the second youngest Senator in Congress. But he
+revealed a natural and disconcerting skill at verbal riposte which made
+him respected, if not feared by his opponents. One day, being harried by
+administration Senators, he struck back with a savagery which, for the
+moment, silenced them.
+
+The San Francisco papers--for that matter, all the journals of the
+nation--printed Broderick's words conspicuously. And, as they held with
+North or South, with Abolition or with Slavery, they praised or
+censured him.
+
+"I hope, in mercy to the boasted intelligence of this age, the
+historian, when writing the history of these times, will ascribe the
+attempt of the President to enforce the Lecompton resolution upon an
+unwilling people to the fading intellect, the petulant passion and the
+trembling dotage of an old man on the verge of the grave."
+
+"Buchanan will be furious," said Benito. "They say he's an old beau who
+wears a toupee and knee-breeches. All Washington that dares to do so
+will be laughing at him, especially the ladies."
+
+Benito returned from the office one foggy June evening with a copy of
+The Bulletin that contained a speech by Broderick. It was dusk and Alice
+had lighted the lamp to read the Washington dispatch as she always did
+with eager interest, when there came a light, almost stealthy knock at
+the door. Benito, rather startled, opened it. There stood a Chinese
+youth of about 18, wrapped in a huge disguising cloak. He bowed low
+several times, then held forth a letter addressed in brush-fashioned,
+India-ink letters to "B. Windham Esquire."
+
+Curiously he opened it and read:
+
+"The hand of the 'avenger' has smitten. I have not long to live. Will
+you, in your honorable kindness, protect my nephew, Po Lun? He will make
+a good and faithful servant, requiting kindness with zeal. May the Lord
+of Heaven bless you."
+
+"WONG LEE."
+
+Excitedly and with many gestures Po Lun described the killing of his
+uncle by a Hip Yee "hatchetman." But even in his dying hour Wong Lee had
+found means to protect a kinsman. Po Lun wept as he told of Wong Lee's
+goodness. Suddenly he knelt and touched his forehead three times to the
+floor at Alice's feet. "Missee, please, you let me stay?" he pleaded.
+"Po Lun plenty work. Washee, cookee, clean-em house." His glance strayed
+toward the cradle. "Takem care you' li'l boy."
+
+Benito glanced at Alice questioningly. "Would you--trust him?" he
+whispered.
+
+"Yes," she said impulsively. "He has a good face ... and we need a
+servant." She beckoned to Po Lun. "Come, I will show you the kitchen and
+a place to sleep."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Broderick came back from Washington and entered actively into the State
+campaign. He found its politics a hodge-podge of unsettled, bitter
+policies. The Republicans made overtures to him; they sought a coalition
+with the Anti-Lecompton Democrats as opposed to Chivalry or Solid South
+Democracy.
+
+Benito and Alice saw little of Broderick. He was here, there,
+everywhere, making impassioned, often violent speeches. Most of them
+were printed in the daily papers.
+
+"They'll be duelling soon," said Windham anxiously, as he read of
+Broderick's accusations of "The Lime Point Swindle," "The Mail-carrying
+Conspiracy," his reference to Gwin and Latham as "two great criminals,"
+to the former, "dripping with corruption."
+
+Then came Judge Terry with an unprovoked attack on members of the
+Anti-Lecompton party. "They are the personal chattels of one man," he
+said, "a single individual whom they are ashamed of. They belong heart,
+soul, body and breeches to David C. Broderick. Afraid to acknowledge
+their master they call themselves Douglas Democrats.... Perhaps they
+sail under the flag of Douglas, but it is the Black Douglas, whose name
+is Frederick, not Stephen."
+
+Frederick Douglas was a negro. Therefore, Terry's accusation was the
+acme of insult and contumely, which a Southerner's imagination could
+devise. Broderick read it in a morning paper as he breakfasted with
+friends in the International Hotel and, wounded by the thrust from one
+he deemed a friend, spoke bitterly:
+
+"I have always said that Terry was the only honest man on the bench of a
+miserably corrupt court. But I take it all back. He is just as bad as
+the others."
+
+By some evil chance, D.W. Perley overheard that statement--which
+proceeded out of Broderick's momentary irritation. Perley was a man of
+small renown, a lawyer, politician and a whilom friend of Terry.
+Instantly he seized the opportunity to force a quarrel, and, in Terry's
+name, demanded "satisfaction." Broderick was half amused at first, but
+in the end retorted angrily. They parted in a violent altercation.
+
+"Dave," said Alice, as he dined with them that evening, "your're not
+going to fight this man?"
+
+"I shall ignore the fellow. I've written him that I fight with no one
+but my equal. He can make what he likes out of that. I've been in a duel
+or two. Nobody will question my courage."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Po Lun proved a model servitor, a careful nurse. Alice often left in his
+efficient hands her household tasks. Sometimes she and Benito took an
+outing of a Saturday afternoon, for there was now a pleasant drive down
+the Peninsula along the new San Bruno turnpike to San Mateo.
+
+The Windhams were returning from such a drive in the pleasant afternoon
+sunshine when a tumult of newsboys hawking an extra edition
+arrested them.
+
+"Big duel ... Broderick and Terry!" shrieked the "newsies." Benito
+stopped the horse and bought a paper, perusing the headlines feverishly.
+Alice leaned over his shoulder, her face white. Presently Benito faced
+her. "Terry's forced a fight on Dave," he said huskily. "They're to meet
+on Monday at the upper end of Lake Merced."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIV
+
+THE "FIELD OF HONOR"
+
+Chief of Police Burke lingered late in his office that Saturday
+afternoon. Twilight had passed into dusk, through which the street lamps
+were beginning to glimmer, leaping here and there into sudden luminance
+as the lamp-lighter made his rounds. Deep in the complexities of police
+reports Burke had scarcely noted the entrance of a police clerk who
+lighted the swinging lamp overhead. And he was only dimly aware of faint
+knocking at his door. It came a second, a third time before he roused
+himself. "Come in," he called, none too graciously.
+
+The door opened with an inrush of wind which caused his lamp to flicker.
+Before him stood a slight and well-gowned woman, heavily veiled. She was
+trembling. He looked at her expectantly, but she did not speak.
+
+"Please be seated, madam," said the chief of police.
+
+But she continued to stand. Presently words came to her. "Can you stop a
+duel? Will you?" Her hands went out in a gesture of supplication,
+involuntary, unstudiedly dramatic.
+
+"What do you mean?" he asked. "What duel?"
+
+"Senator Broderick ... Justice Terry," a wealth of hate was in her
+utterance of the second name. "They fight at sunrise Monday morning."
+
+"It's not our custom to--interfere in such cases," Burke said slowly.
+"What would you have me do? Arrest them?"
+
+"Anything," she cried. "Oh--ANYTHING!"
+
+He looked at her searchingly. "If you will raise your veil, madam, I
+will talk with you further. Otherwise I must bid you goodnight."
+
+For a moment she stood motionless. Then her hand went upward, stripped
+the covering from her features. "Now," she asked him, in a half-shamed
+whisper, "will you help me?"
+
+"Yes ... Mrs. Windham," said Burke.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At daybreak on a raw, cold Monday morning, Broderick, with his seconds,
+Joe McKibben and Dave Colton, arrived at the upper end of Lake Merced.
+Terry and his seconds were already waiting. The principals, clad in long
+overcoats, did not salute each other. Broderick looked toward the sea.
+Terry stood implacable and silent, turning now and then to spit into the
+sun dried grass. The seconds conferred with each other. All seemed ready
+to begin when an officer, springing from a foam-flecked horse, rushed up
+to Broderick and shouted, "You are under arrest."
+
+Broderick turned half-bewildered. He was very tired, for he had not
+slept the night before. "Arrest?" he said blankly.
+
+"You and Justice Terry," said the officer; "I've warrants for ye both.
+Come along and no nonsense. This duel is stopped."
+
+Terry began an angry denunciation of the officer, but his seconds,
+Calhoun Benham and Colonel Thomas Hayes, persuaded him at length into a
+blustering submission. Principals and seconds, feeling like the actors
+in an ill-considered farce, rode off together. Later they were summoned
+to appear before Judge Coon.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"The whole thing was a farce," Benito told his wife. "The case was
+dismissed. Our prosecuting counsel asked the judge to put them under
+bonds to keep the peace. But he refused."
+
+"Then the fight will go on?" asked Alice. Her face was white.
+
+"Doubtless," said Benito gloomily. "They say that Terry's been
+practicing with a pair of French pistols during the past two months and
+hopes to use them at the meeting. Old 'Natchez,' the gunsmith, tells me
+one's a tricky weapon ... discharges now and then before the
+trigger's pressed."
+
+"Why--that would be murder," Alice spoke aghast. "You must find David's
+seconds and warn them."
+
+"I've tried all afternoon to locate them ... they're hidden ... afraid
+of arrest."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Despite the secrecy with which the second meeting was arranged, some
+three score spectators were already assembled at the duelling ground
+when Broderick and Terry arrived. It was not far from where they had met
+on the previous morning, but no officer appeared to interrupt their
+combat. Both men looked nervous and worn, especially Broderick, who had
+spent the night in a flea-infested hut on the ocean shore at the
+suggestion of his seconds who feared further interference. Terry had
+fared better, being quartered at the farm house of a friend who provided
+breakfast and a flask of rum.
+
+The seconds tossed for position and those of Broderick won. The choice
+of pistols, too, was left to chance, which favored Terry. Joe McKibben
+thought he saw a smile light the faces of Benham and Hayes, a smile of
+secret understanding. The French pistols were produced and Hayes, with
+seeming care, selected one of them. McKibben took the other. He saw
+Benham whisper something to Terry as the latter grasped his weapon, saw
+the judge's eyes light with a sudden satisfaction.
+
+"You will fire between the words 'one' and 'two'," Colton announced
+crisply. "Are you ready, gentlemen?"
+
+Terry answered "Yes" immediately. Broderick, who was endeavoring to
+adjust the unfamiliar stock of the foreign pistol to his grasp, did not
+hear. McKibben repeated, "Are you ready, Dave?" in an undertone.
+Broderick looked up with nervous and apologetic haste, "Yes, yes, quite
+ready," he replied.
+
+"One," called Colton. Broderick's pistol spoke. Discharged apparently
+before aim could be taken; his bullet struck the ground at Terry's feet.
+Broderick, now defenseless, waited quietly. "Two," the word came. Terry,
+who had taken careful aim, now fired. Broderick staggered, recovered
+himself. His face was distorted with pain. Slowly he sank to one knee;
+sidewise upon his elbow, then lay prone.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was Sunday, September 18th. In the plaza a catafalque had been
+erected, draped in black. Upon it stood a casket covered with flowers.
+An immense crowd was about it, strangely silent. Across the platform a
+constant stream of people filed, each stopping a moment to gaze at a
+face that lay still and peaceful, seemingly composed in sleep. It was a
+keen and striking face; the forehead bespoke intellect and high resolve;
+the jaw and chin indomitable; aggressive bravery. Over all there was a
+stamp of sadness and of loneliness that caught one's heart. Friends,
+political compatriots and erstwhile enemies paid David Broderick a final
+tribute as they passed; few without a twitching of the lips. Tears ran
+down the faces of both men and women. The crowd murmured. Then the
+splendid moving voice of Colonel Baker poured forth an oration like Mark
+Anthony above the bier of Caesar:
+
+     "Citizens of California: A Senator lies dead.... It is not
+     fit that such a man should pass into the tomb unheralded;
+     that such a life should steal, unnoticed, to its close. It is
+     not fit that such a death should call forth no rebuke...."
+
+His majestic voice rolled on, telling of Broderick's work, his
+character, devotion to the people. He assailed the practice of duelling,
+the bitter hatreds of a slave-impassioned South. His voice shook with
+emotion as he ended:
+
+     "Thus, O brave heart! we bear thee to thy rest. As in life no
+     other voice so rung its trumpet blast upon the ear of
+     freemen, so in death its echoes will reverberate amid our
+     valleys and mountains until truth and valor cease to appeal
+     to the human heart.
+
+     "Good friend! True hero! Hail and farewell."
+
+[Illustration: Terry, who had taken careful aim, now fired. Broderick
+staggered, recovered himself. Slowly he sank to one knee.]
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LV
+
+THE SOUTHERN PLOT
+
+America stood on war's threshold. Even in the West one felt its
+imminence. The Republican victory had been like a slap in the face to
+slave-holding democracy. Its strongholds were secretly arming,
+mobilizing, drilling. And though Lincoln wisely held his peace--warned
+all the States which hummed with wild secession talk that their
+aggression alone could disrupt the Union--the wily Stanton, through the
+machinery of the War Department, prepared with quiet grimness for the
+coming struggle.
+
+Herbert Waters, after Broderick's death, returned to Windham's office.
+He was a full-fledged lawyer now, more of a partner than an employee.
+Waters was of Southern antecedents, a native of Kentucky, a friend,
+almost a protégé, of General Albert Sydney Johnson, commanding the
+military district of the Pacific.
+
+One evening in January, 1861, he dined with the Windhams. Early in the
+evening Benito was called out to the bedside of an ailing client, who
+desired him to write a will. After he was gone, young Waters turned
+to Alice.
+
+"You were a friend of Mr. Broderick's," he said impulsively. "He often
+spoke of you ... and once, not long before he died, he said to me:
+'Herbert, when your soul's in trouble, go to Alice Windham ...'"
+
+Mrs. Windham put aside her knitting rather hastily, rose and walked to
+the window. She made no answer.
+
+Presently the boy continued: "That time has come--now--Mrs. Windham."
+
+Alice crossed the room and laid a hand upon his shoulder. "Herbert!
+What's the matter?"
+
+His voice sank almost to a whisper. "There's a plot to overthrow the
+government in California. I'm a part of it.... I don't know what to do."
+
+"You don't mean ... you're a traitor?" she asked unbelievably.
+
+"I suppose I am or must be--to some one," he said wearily. "I'm caught
+in a net, Mrs. Windham. Will you help me get out? Advise me ... as you
+did him. Oh, I know what you meant to Mr. Broderick. Your faith,
+your counsel!"
+
+"Please," said Alice sharply. "We won't speak of that. What can I do for
+YOU?"
+
+"I beg your pardon. I'm a thoughtless ass ... that's why I got into the
+pickle probably. They asked me to join...."
+
+"They? Who?" she asked. "Is he--Benito--?"
+
+"Oh, no, Benito's out of it completely. I'm a Southern boy, you know.
+That's why they let me in; a lot of them have money. A man we call 'The
+President' is our chief. And there's a committee of thirty, each of whom
+is pledged to organize a fighting force; a hundred men."
+
+Waters hesitated. "I took an oath to keep this all a secret ... but I'll
+trust you, Mrs. Windham. You've got to know something about it.... These
+men are hired desperadoes or adventurers. They know there's fighting to
+be done; they've no scruples.... Meanwhile they're well paid, ostensibly
+engaged in various peaceful occupations all around the bay. When our
+President gives the order they'll be massed--three thousand of 'em; well
+armed, drilled--professional fighters. You can see what'll happen...."
+
+"You mean they'll seize the forts ... deliver us to the enemy?" she
+spoke aghast.
+
+"I'm afraid you're right, Mrs. Windham."
+
+"Has your--ah--society approached General Johnson?"
+
+"Not yet--they're a little afraid of him."
+
+Alice Windham thought a moment. "When is your next meeting?"
+
+"Tomorrow. We are called by word of mouth. I've just received my
+summons."
+
+"Well, then," Alice told him, "make a motion--or whatever you call
+it--that the General be approached, sounded. They'll appoint a
+committee. They'll put you on it, of course. Thus you can apprise him of
+the plot without violating your oath. I don't believe he will aid you,
+for that means betraying his trust.... But if he should--come back to
+me. We will have to act quickly."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A fortnight passed. Alice had learned by adroit questioning that the
+federal army was a purely negligible defensive force.
+
+An attack would result in the easy plundering of this storehouse as well
+as the militia armories of San Francisco. Thus equipped, an army could
+be organized out of California's Southern sympathizers, who would beat
+down all resistance, loot the treasury of its gold and perhaps align the
+State with Slavery's Cause.
+
+Rebellion, civil warfare loomed with all its horrors. If the plot that
+Waters had described were carried through there would be bloodshed in
+the city. Her husband had gone to Sacramento on business. Suppose it
+came tonight!
+
+Anxiously Alice hovered near the cot where ten-year Robert slept.
+
+There came a knock at the door.
+
+"Who's there?" she asked, hand upon the bolt. Then, with an exclamation
+of relief, she opened it. Admitted Herbert Waters.
+
+He was smiling. "I took your advice.... It worked."
+
+She pushed a chair toward the hearth. "Sit there," she ordered. "Tell me
+all about it."
+
+Waters gazed into the fire half abstractedly. "Three of us were named,"
+he said, "to have a conference with General Johnson." He turned to her,
+his eyes aglow, "I'll never forget that meeting. He asked us to be
+seated with his usual courtesy. Then he said, quite matter-of-factly ...
+in an off-hand sort of way, 'There's something I want to mention before
+we go further. I've heard some foolish talk about attempts to seize the
+strongholds of the government under my charge. So I've prepared for all
+emergencies.' His eyes flashed as he added, 'I will defend the property
+of the United States with every resource at my command, with the last
+drop of blood in my body. Tell that to your Southern friends.'"
+
+"And your plot?"
+
+"It's been abandoned."
+
+"Thank God," Alice exclaimed fervently.
+
+"And thank yourself a little," he commented, smiling.
+
+"General Johnson is a brave and honorable gentleman," Alice said. "I
+wonder--who could have informed him?"
+
+Waters looked at her quickly. But he did not voice the thought upon his
+tongue.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+April 24 General E.V. Sumner arrived with orders to take charge of the
+department of the Pacific. General Johnson's resignation was already on
+its way to Washington.
+
+On the following morning came the news that Southern forces had attacked
+Fort Sumpter.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVI
+
+SOME WAR REACTIONS
+
+San Francisco adjusted itself to war conditions with its usual impulsive
+facility. Terry, who had resigned from the Supreme bench following
+Broderick's death, and who had passed through the technicalities of a
+farcical trial, left for Texas. He joined the Southern forces and for
+years California knew him no more. Albert Sydney Johnson, after being
+displaced by General Sumner, offered his services to Jefferson Davis and
+was killed at Shiloh. Edward Baker, now a Senator from Oregon, left the
+halls of Congress for a Union command. At the head of the California
+volunteer regiment he charged the enemy at Ball's Bluff and fell, his
+body pierced by half a dozen bullets. Curiously different was the record
+of Broderick's old foeman, William Gwin. In October, 1861, he started
+East via the Isthmus of Panama, accompanied by Calhoun Benham, one of
+Terry's seconds in the fateful duel. On the same steamer was General
+Sumner, relieved of his command in San Francisco, en route to active
+service. Convinced that Gwin and Benham plotted treason, he ordered
+their arrest, but not before they threw overboard maps and other papers.
+They escaped conviction. But Gwin found Paris safer than America--until
+the war had reached its close.
+
+When the first call came for volunteers by way of the pony express,
+Benito and Adrian talked of enlisting. Even thirteen-year Francisco, to
+his mother's horror, spoke of going as a drummer boy.
+
+"One would think you men asked nothing better than to kill each other,"
+Inez Windham stormed.
+
+Yet she was secretly proud. She would have felt a mite ashamed had
+Adrian displayed less martial ardor. And to her little son she showed
+the portrait of Francisco Garvez, who had ridden with Ortega and d'Anza
+in the days of Spanish glory.
+
+Lithographs of President Lincoln appeared in household and office. Flags
+flew from many staffs and windows. News was eagerly awaited from the
+battle-front.
+
+Adrian had been rejected by a recruiting board because of a slight limp.
+He had never quite recovered from a knife wound in the groin inflicted
+by McTurpin. Benito had been brusquely informed that his family needed
+him more than the Union cause at present. Still unsatisfied he found a
+substitute, an Englishman named Dart, who fell at Gettysburg, and to
+whose heirs in distant Liverpool he gladly paid $5000.
+
+But Herbert Waters went to war. Alice kissed the lad good-by and pinned
+a rosebud on his uniform as he departed on the steamer. Little Robert
+clung to him and wept when they were separated. Adrian, Benito and a
+host of others shook his hand.
+
+A whistle blew; he had to scamper for the gang-plank. The vessel moved
+slowly, turning in her course toward the Golden Gate. Men were waving
+their hats and weeping women their handkerchiefs. Alice stood misty eyed
+and moveless, till the steamer passed from sight.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Though one heard loud-chorused sentiments of Unionism, there were many
+secret friends of slavery in San Francisco. One felt them like an
+undercurrent, covert and disquieting. To determine where men stood, a
+public meeting had been called for May 11. Where Post ran into Market
+street, affording wide expanse for out-door gathering, a speaker's stand
+was built. Here the issues of war, it was announced, would be discussed
+by men of note.
+
+"Starr King, our pulpit Demosthenes, is to talk," Benito told his wife.
+"They tell me King's a power for the Union. He's so eloquent that even
+Southerners applaud him."
+
+They were interrupted by Po Lun, their Chinese servitor, who entered,
+leading Robert by the hand. The boy had a soldier cap, fashioned from
+newspaper by the ingenious celestial; it was embellished with plumes
+from a feather duster. A toy drum was suspended from his neck; the hilt
+of a play-time saber showed at his belt. The Chinaman carried a flag and
+both were marching in rhythmic step, which taxed the long legs of Po Lun
+severely by way of repression.
+
+"Where in the world are you two going?" Alice laughed.
+
+"We go public meeting, Missee," said Po Lun. "We hea' all same Miste'
+Stah King pleach-em 'bout Ablaham Lincoln."
+
+"Hurrah!" cried Benito with enthusiasm. "Let's go with them, Alice." He
+caught her about the waist and hurried her onward. Bareheaded, they ran
+out into the morning sunshine.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At Post and Market streets, thousands waited, though the day was young.
+Constantly the crowd increased. From all directions came pedestrians,
+horsemen, folks in carriages, buggies--all manner of vehicles, even farm
+wagons from the outlying districts. Most of them looked upon attendance
+as a test of loyalty. When it was learned that Governor Downey had sent
+his regrets a murmur of disapproval ran through the throng. He had been
+very popular in San Francisco, for he had vetoed the infamous Bulkhead
+bill, which planned to give private interests the control of the
+waterfront. He also pocketed a libel measure aimed at San Francisco's
+independent press. But in the national crisis--a time when political
+temporizing was not tolerated--he "did not believe that war should be
+waged upon any section of the Confederacy, nor that the Union should be
+preserved by a coercive policy."
+
+"I saw the letter," Adrian told Benito. "They were going to read it at
+first, but they decided not to. After all, the little Governor's not
+afraid to utter his thoughts."
+
+"I've more respect for him than for Latham," Windham answered. "He's to
+make a speech today. Only a few weeks ago he damned us up and down in
+Congress. Now he's for the Union. I despise a turn-coat."
+
+They were interrupted by a voice that made announcements from the
+platform.
+
+Starr King arose amid cheers. The preacher was a man of marvelous
+enthusiasm. His slight, frail figure gave small hint of his dynamic
+talents. He had come to California for rest and health. But in the
+maelstrom of pre-war politics, he found neither "dolce far niente" nor
+recuperation. He plunged without a thought of self into the fight for
+California.
+
+As he began to talk the crowd pressed forward, packed itself into a
+smaller ring. Medlied sounds of converse died into a silence, which was
+almost breathless.
+
+For an hour King went on discussing clearly, logically and deeply, all
+the issues of the Civil War; the attitude, responsibilities and
+influences of California, particularly San Francisco. He made no great
+emotional appeals; he dealt in no impassioned oratory nor invective.
+
+At the close there was a little pause, so deep the concentration of
+their listening, before the concourse broke into applause. Then it was
+hysteria, pandemonium. Hats flew in the air; whistles, cheers and bravos
+mingled. The striking of palm against palm was like a great volley.
+Again and again the preacher rose, bowed, retired. Finally he thanked
+them, called the meeting closed, and bade them a good afternoon. Only
+then the crowd began to melt. Fifty thousand people knew their city--and
+their State no doubt--were safe for anti-slavery.
+
+[Illustration: The concourse broke into applause. Then it was hysteria,
+pandemonium. Fifty thousand knew their city was safe for Anti-Slavery.]
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVII
+
+WATERS PAYS THE PRICE
+
+Months passed to a tune of fifes and drums. Everywhere men were
+drilling. At more or less regular intervals one saw them marching down
+Montgomery street, brave in their new uniforms, running a gauntlet of
+bunting, flags and cheers. Then they passed from one's ken. Each
+fortnight the San Francisco papers published a column of Deaths and
+Casualties.
+
+In due time a letter came from Herbert Waters, now a sergeant of his
+troop. Benito promptly closed his office for the afternoon and ran home
+with it; he read the missive, while Alice, Robert and Po Lun listened,
+eager-eyed and silent:
+
+"We have marched over historic ground, the trail of d'Anza, which
+Benito's forefathers broke in 1774. They say it is the hardest march
+that volunteer troops ever made and I can well believe it. There are no
+railroads; it was almost like exploring. Sometimes water holes are
+ninety miles apart. The desert is so hot that you in temperate San
+Francisco can't imagine it unless you think of Hell; and in the
+mountains we found snow up to our waists; were nearly frozen.
+
+"Apaches, Yumas, Navajos abound; they are cruel, treacherous fighters.
+We had some lively skirmishes with them. I received a poisoned arrow in
+my arm. But I sucked the wound and very soon, to everyone's surprise, it
+healed. There comes to me oft-times a strange conceit that I cannot be
+killed or even badly hurt ... until I have met Terry."
+
+There was a postscript written on a later date, proceeding from Fort
+Davis, Texas. Though the handwriting was less firm than the foregoing,
+there was a jubilance about the closing lines which even the Chinese
+felt. His eyes glowed with a battle spirit as Benito read:
+
+"My prayer has been answered. At least in part. I have met and fought
+with Broderick's assassin. It was in the battle for Fort Davis, which we
+wrested from the enemy, that he loomed suddenly before me, a great hulk
+of a man in a captain's uniform swinging his sword like a demon. I saw
+one of our men go down before him and then the battle press brought us
+together. It seemed almost like destiny. His sword was red and dripping,
+his horse was covered with foam. He looked at me with eyes that were
+insane--mad with the lust of killing; tried to plunge the blade into my
+neck. But I caught his wrist and held it. I shouted at him, for the
+noise was hideous, 'David Terry, I am Broderick's friend.' He went white
+at that. I let his wrist go and drew my own saber. I struck at him and
+the sparks flew from his countering weapon. My heart was leaping with a
+kind of joy. 'No trick pistols this time,' I cried. And I spat in
+his face.
+
+"But another's ball came to his rescue. I felt it, cold as ice and hot
+as fire in my lung. I made a wild slash at him as I fell; saw him wince,
+but ride away.... So, now I lie in a camp hospital. It has seemed a long
+time. But it is the fortune of war. Perhaps I shall see you soon."
+
+"It isn't signed," Benito seemed a trifle puzzled. Then he found, in
+back of Waters' lines, a final sheet in a strange handwriting. Hurriedly
+he rose, walked to the open door. Below, upon the bay, storm was
+brewing; it seemed mirrored in his eyes.
+
+"What is it, dear?" asked Alice following. He handed her the single
+sheet of paper.
+
+"Dead!" her tone was stunned, incredulous.
+
+Benito's arm around her, dumbly, they went out together. Rain was
+beginning to fall, but neither knew it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Several years of war made little change in San Francisco. The city
+furnished more than its quota of troops. The California Hundred, trained
+fighters and good horsemen, went to Massachusetts in 1862 and were
+assigned to the Second Cavalry. Later the California Battalion joined
+them. Both saw terrific fighting.
+
+But California furnished better than "man-power" to the struggle. Money,
+that all-important war-essential, streamed uninterruptedly from the
+coast-state mines to Washington. More than a hundred millions had
+already been sent--a sum which, in Confederate hands, might have turned
+the destiny of battle. California was loyal politically as well. Though
+badly treated by a remote, often unsympathetic government, she had
+scorned the plot to set up a "Pacific Republic" as the South had planned
+and hoped.
+
+Her secret service men were busy and astute, preventing filibustering
+plots and mail robberies. There was a constant feeling of uneasiness.
+San Francisco still housed too many Southern folk.
+
+Benito and Alice were dining with the Stanleys. Francisco and Robert
+were squatted on the hearth, poring over an illustrated book that had
+come from New York. It showed the uniforms of United States soldiers,
+the latest additions to the navy.
+
+"See," said Francisco, "here are pictures of Admiral Farragut and
+General Sherman." He was fifteen now and well above his father's
+shoulders. Robert, three years younger, looked up to admire his cousin.
+A smaller, more intellectual type of boy was Robert, with his mother's
+quiet sweetness and his father's fire.
+
+"Here's a picture of the fight between the Monitor and Merrimac," he
+cried interestedly, "When I grow up I shall join the navy and wear a
+cap with gold braid, like Farragut."
+
+"And I shall be a lawyer ... maybe a Senator or President," said
+Francisco, with importance.
+
+The men, talking politics over their cigars, did not hear this converse,
+but the women looked down at their sons, smiling fondly. "Yesterday
+Robert announced that he would be a poet," Alice confided. "He saw his
+father writing verses in a book."
+
+"And tomorrow he will want to be an inventor or a steam-boat captain,"
+Inez answered. "'Tis the way with boys.... Mine is getting so big--I'm
+afraid he'll be going to war."
+
+Po Lun interrupted their further confidences. He rushed in breathless,
+unannounced. "Misstah Windham," he spoke to Benito. "One man wanchee see
+you quick in Chinatown.... He allee same plitty soon die. He say you
+sabe him. His name McTu'pin."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVIII
+
+McTURPIN TURNS INFORMER
+
+Benito stared, bewildered, at the Chinaman. "McTurpin dying? Wants to
+see me?"
+
+Po Lun nodded. "He send-um China boy you' house. He wait outside."
+
+Benito rose. Alice laid detaining fingers on his arm. "Don't go ... it's
+just a ruse. You know McTurpin."
+
+"The time is past when he can injure me," he answered gravely.
+"Something tells me it is right--to go." He kissed her, disengaged her
+arms about him gently, and went out. Adrian signaled to the Chinese.
+"Follow him...."
+
+Po Lun nodded understandingly.
+
+A shuffling figure, face concealed beneath a broad-brimmed hat, hands
+tucked each within the opposite sleeve, awaited Windham just outside the
+door. He set out immediately in an easterly direction, glancing over his
+shoulder now and again to make certain that Benito followed. Down the
+steep slope of Washington street he went past moss-grown retaining
+walls; over slippery brick pavements, through which the grass-blades
+sprouted, to plunge at length into the eddying alien mass of Chinatown's
+main artery, Dupont street. Here rushing human counter-currents ebbed
+and flowed ceaslessly. Burdens of all sizes and of infinite variety
+swept by on swaying shoulder yokes.
+
+Benito's guide paused momentarily on the farther side of Dupont street.
+Then, with a beckoning gesture, he dived into a narrow alley. Benito,
+following, found himself before the entrance of a cellarway. As he
+halted, iron trapdoors opened toward him, revealing a short flight of
+steps. The Chinese motioned him to descend, but the lawyer hesitated
+with a sudden sense of trepidation. Beneath the pavement in this
+cul-de-sac of Chinatown, he would be hidden from the world, from friends
+or rescue, as securely as though he were at the bottom of the bay.
+
+But he squared his shoulders and went down. A door opened noiselessly
+and closed, leaving him in total darkness. A lantern glimmered and he
+followed it along a narrow passage that had many unexpected turns. An
+odor, pungent, acrid, semi-aromatic troubled his nostrils. It increased
+until the lantern-bearing Chinese ushered him into a large square room,
+lined with bunks, three-deep, like the forecastle of a ship. In each lay
+two Chinese, face to face. They drew at intervals deep inhalations from
+a thick bamboo pipe, relaxing, thereupon into a sort of stupored dream.
+The place reeked with the fumes that had assailed Benito in the passage.
+Intuitively he knew that it was opium.
+
+A voice in English, faint and dreamy, reached him. "This way ... Mr.
+Windham.... Please."
+
+A white almost-skeleton hand stretched toward him from a lower bunk. A
+bearded face, cadaverously sunken, in which gleamed bright fevered eyes,
+was now discernible.
+
+"McTurpin!" he spoke incredulously.
+
+"What's left of me," the tone was hollow, grim. "Please sit down here,
+close to me.... I've something to tell you.... Something that will--"
+
+He sank back weakly, but his eyes implored. Benito took a seat beside
+the bunk. For a moment he thought the man was dead. He lay so limp,
+so silent!
+
+Then McTurpin whispered. "Bend closer. I will tell you how to serve your
+country.... There's a schooner called the 'J.M. Chapman.' Do you know
+where it lies?"
+
+"No," Benito answered, "but that's easily discovered. If you've anything
+to say--go on."
+
+McTurpin's bony fingers clutched Benito's sleeve. "Listen," he said.
+"Bend nearer."
+
+His voice droned on, at times imperceptible, again hoarse with
+excitement. Benito sat moveless, absorbed.
+
+Above the iron-trap doors Po Lun waited patiently.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In an unlighted alley back of the American Exchange Hotel two figures
+waited, as if by appointment on the night of March 14. One was Ashbury
+Harpending, a young Southerner, and one of the Committee of Thirty
+which, several years before, had hatched an unsuccessful plot to capture
+California for the hosts of slavery. The other was an English boy named
+Alfred Rubery, large, good-looking, adventurous, nephew of the great
+London publicist, John Bright. It was he who spoke first in a guarded
+undertone:
+
+"Is everything ready--safe?"
+
+"Far as I can tell," responded Harpending.
+
+"How many men d'you get?" asked Rubery.
+
+"Twenty ... that's enough. We'll pick up more at Manzanillo. There we'll
+dress the Chapman into fighting trim, set up our guns aboard and capture
+the first Pacific Mail liner with gold out of California."
+
+"You're a clever fellow, Harpending. How'd you get those guns aboard
+without suspicion?"
+
+"Through a Mexican friend," replied Harpending. "He said he needed them
+to protect his mine in South America. Besides, we've a large assortment
+of rifles, revolvers, cutlasses. They're boxed and marked 'machinery.'"
+
+Further talk was interrupted by a group of men who approached, saluted,
+gave a whispered countersign. Others came, still others till the quota
+of a full score had arrived. At Harpending's command they separated to
+avoid attention. Silently they slipped through dimly-lighted streets,
+past roaring saloons and sailors' boarding houses to an unfrequented
+portion of the waterfront. There the trim black silhouetted shape of
+the schooner Chapman loomed against a cloudy sky.
+
+At the rail stood Ridgely Greathouse, big, florid, his burnside whiskers
+twitching.
+
+"Where the devil's Law?" he bellowed. "Lord Almighty! Here it's nearly
+midnight and no captain."
+
+"He's not with us," said Harpending quietly. But his face paled.
+Navigator William Law was the only one of whom he had a doubt. But the
+men must not suspect. "Law will be along soon," he added. "Let us all
+get aboard and make ready to sail."
+
+The men followed him and went below. Harpending, Greathouse and Rubery
+paced the deck. "He's drunk probably," commented Greathouse savagely.
+
+"Tut! Tut!" cried Rubery, "let us have no croaking." But at two o'clock,
+the navigator had not shown his face. They could not sail without a
+captain. Wearily they went below and left a sentinel on watch. He was a
+young man who had eaten heavily and drunk to even more excess. For a
+time he paced the deck conscientiously. Then he sat down, leaned against
+a spar and smoked. After a while the pipe fell from his
+listless fingers.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Ahoy, schooner Chapman!"
+
+The sleeping sentinel stirred languidly. He stretched himself, yawned,
+rose in splendid leisure. Then a shout broke from him. Like a frightened
+rabbit he dived through the hatchway, yelling at the top of his lungs.
+
+"The police! The police!"
+
+Harpending was up first. Pell mell, Rubery and Greathouse followed. A
+couple of hundred yards away they looked into the trained guns of the
+Federal warship Cyane. Several boatloads of officers and marines were
+leaving her side. From the San Francisco waterfront a police tug bore
+down on the Chapman.
+
+Greathouse stumbled back into the cabin. "Quick, destroy the evidence,"
+he shouted.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIX
+
+THE COMSTOCK FURORE
+
+Press reports gave full and wide sensation to the capture of the
+"Chapman." Chief Lees took every credit for the thwarting of a "Plot of
+Southern Pirates" who "Conspired to Prey Upon the Golden Galleons From
+California." Thus the headlines put it. And Benito was relieved to find
+no mention of himself. Harpending he knew and liked, despite his
+Southern sympathies; Rubery he had met; an English lad, high-spirited
+and well connected. In fact, John Bright soon had his errant nephew out
+of jail. And when, a few months later, Harpending and Greathouse were
+released, Benito deemed the story happily ended. He heard nothing from
+McTurpin. No doubt the fellow was dead.
+
+That troublesome proclivity of wooing chance was uppermost again in
+Windham's mind. It was only natural perhaps, for all of San Francisco
+gambled now in mining stocks. The brokers swarmed like bees along
+Montgomery street; every window had its shelf of quartz and nuggets
+interspersed with pictures of the "workings" at Virginia City. It was
+Nevada now that held the treasure-seeker's eye.
+
+Within a year it had produced six millions. Scores of miners staked
+their claims upon or near the Comstock lode and most of them sought
+capital in San Francisco. Washerwomen, bankers, teamsters--every class
+was bitten by the microbe of hysterical investment. Some had made great
+fortunes; none apparently thus far had lost.
+
+In front of Flood and O'Brien's saloon a hand fell heartily upon
+Benito's shoulder. "Come in and have a drink," James Lick invited.
+
+Lick had "made a pile" of late. He was building a big hotel on
+Montgomery street; was recognized as one of San Francisco's financiers.
+He took Benito by the arm. "We've got to celebrate. I've made ten
+thousand on my Ophir shares. Carrying any mining stock, Benito?"
+
+"No," retorted Windham. He suffered Lick to lead him to the bar. Will
+O'Brien, a shrewd-faced merry Irishman, took their orders. He and Flood
+had bought an interest in Virginia City ... "a few fate only, but it's
+goin' t' make us rich, me lad," he said enthusiastically as he set their
+glasses out upon the bar. "We'll all be nabobs soon. Ain't that the
+God's truth, Mr. Ralston?"
+
+"Sure, my boy," a deep voice answered heartily. Windham turned and saw a
+man of forty, tall, well-molded, with a smiling forceful countenance. He
+seemed to smack of large affairs.
+
+Benito sipped his liquor, listening absorbedly while Ralston rattled off
+facts, figures, prospects in connection with the Comstock lode.
+
+"The Nevada mines will pay big," Benito heard him tell a group of
+bearded men who hung upon his utterances. "BIG! You can bet your bottom
+dollar on it. If you've money, don't let it stay idle."
+
+Benito bade his friend good-bye and went out, thinking deeply. He
+wondered what Alice would say if....
+
+Nesbitt of The Bulletin interrupted his musing. "Heard the news, Benito?
+We're to have a stock exchange next month."
+
+"The brokers are opposed to it. They don't want staple values, because,
+now and then, they can pick up a bargain or drive a hard trade. And they
+can peddle 'wildcat' stocks to tenderfeet.... We must stop that sort
+of thing."
+
+"Quite so," said Windham vaguely comprehending. Nesbitt babbled on.
+"There are to be forty charter members, with a fund of $2000."
+
+He took a pencil from his pocket. Tapped Benito's shirt front with it.
+"Buy a little Gould and Curry.... I've just had a tip that it will
+rise." He hurried on.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Windham let his clients wait that afternoon. He took a walk toward Twin
+Peaks on Market street. That lordly, though neglected, thoroughfare
+began to make pretensions toward commercial activity. Opposite
+Montgomery street was St. Ignatius Church. Farther down toward the docks
+were lumber yards and to the west were little shops, mostly one-storied,
+widely scattered. Chinese laundries, a livery stable or two. The
+pavements were stretches of boardwalk interspersed with sand or mud,
+trodden into passable trails. Down the broad center ran a track on which
+for years a dummy engine had labored back and forth, drawing flat cars
+laden with sand. Now most of the sand hills were leveled above Kearny
+street. Benito picked his way along the northern side of Market street
+till he came to Hayes. There the new horse car line ran to Hayes park.
+One was just leaving as he reached the corner, so he hopped aboard. As
+the driver took his fare he nodded cordially. Benito recognized him as a
+former client.
+
+"Listen," said the fellow, "you did me a good turn once, Mr. Windham.
+Now I'll return the compliment." He leaned nearer, whispered. "Buy some
+Hale and Norcross mining stock. I've got a tip straight from the
+president. It's going up."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the spring of '64, Virginia City mines still yielded treasure
+harvests unbelievable. Windham's bank account had risen to the
+quarter-million mark. Month by month he watched his assets grow by leaps
+more marvelous than even his romantic fancy could fore-vision. Stocks
+were climbing at a rate which raised the value of each share $100 every
+thirty days.
+
+San Francisco's Stock and Exchange Board, the leading of the three such
+institutions, had quarters in the Montgomery block. Electric
+telegraphs, which flashed its stock quotations round the world, made it
+a money power in London, Paris and New York.
+
+Benito had a home now in South Park, the city's new, exclusive residence
+section. From there the Omnibus Street Railway Company, in which he was
+a large stockholder, operated horse cars to North Beach. He wore a high
+hat now and spectacles. There were touches of gray in his hair.
+
+As he entered the exchange, a nimble-fingered Morse-operator was marking
+figures on a blackboard.
+
+Windham heard his name called; turning, met the outstretched hand of
+William Ralston. They chatted for a time on current matters. There was
+to be a Merchants' Exchange. Already ground was broken for the building.
+The Bank of California, one of Ralston's enterprises, would soon open
+its doors. Ralston was in a dozen ventures, all of them constructive,
+public spirited. He counted his friends by the hundreds. Suddenly he
+turned from contemplation of the blackboard to Benito.
+
+"Carrying much Virginia City nowadays?"
+
+Benito told him. Ralston knit his brow, deliberating. Then he said with
+crisp decision, "Better start unloading soon, my son."
+
+Benito was surprised; expostulated. Ophir, Gould and Curry, Savage were
+as steady as a rock. He didn't want to lose a "bag of money." Ralston
+heard him, nodded curtly, walked away. Disturbed, rebellious, Benito
+quit the place. He wanted quiet to digest the older man's advice.
+Ralston had the name of making few mistakes. Restlessly Benito sought an
+answer to his problem. In the end he went home undecided and retired
+dinnerless, explaining that he had a headache. He awoke with a fever the
+next morning. Alice, frightened by his haggard eyes, sent Po Lun for
+a doctor.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LX
+
+THE SHATTERED BUBBLE
+
+Benito looked up from his pillows, tried to rise and found that he had
+not the strength. Someone was holding his wrist. Oh, yes, Dr. Beverly
+Cole. Behind him stood Alice and Robert.... How tall the boy looked
+beside his little mother! They seemed to be tired, worried. And Alice
+had tears in her eyes.
+
+He heard the doctor's voice afar off, saying, "Yes, he'll live. The
+danger's over--barring complications." Once more his senses
+drifted, slept.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the morning Po Lun brought a cup of broth and fed him with a spoon.
+
+"Long time you been plenty sick," the Chinaman replied to his
+interrogation.
+
+"Where's Alice?"
+
+"She go 'sleep 'bout daylight.... She plenty ti'ed. Ebely night she sit
+up while you talk clazy talk."
+
+"You mean I've been delirious, Po Lun?"
+
+The Chinese nodded. "You get well now plitty soon," he said soothingly
+and, with the empty cup, stole softly out. After a time Alice came,
+rejoiced to find him awake. The boy, on his way to school, poked a
+bright morning face in at the door and called out, "Hello, dad! Better,
+ain't you?"
+
+"Yes, Robert," said Benito. When the boy had gone he turned to Alice.
+"How long have I been ill?"
+
+"Less than a fortnight--though it seems an age." She took his hand and
+cried a little. But they were happy tears. He stroked her hair with a
+hand that seemed strangely heavy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Three weeks later, hollow-eyed, a little shaky, but eager to be back at
+work, Benito returned to his office. A press of work engaged him through
+the morning hours. But at noon, he wandered out into the bright June
+sunshine, walking about and greeting old friends. At the Russ House
+Cafe, where he lunched, William Ralston greeted him cordially.
+
+"How is the war going?" Windham asked. "I've been laid up for a
+month--rather out of the running."
+
+"Well, they're devilish hard fighters, those Confederates. And Lee's a
+master strategist.... But we've the money, Windham. That's what counts.
+The Union owes a lot to California and Nevada."
+
+"Nevada!" with the word came sudden recollection. "That reminds me,
+Ralston.... How are stocks?"
+
+But the banker, with a muttered excuse hastened off.
+
+Benito finished his coffee, smoked a cigarette and made his way again
+into the street.
+
+Presently he went into the stock exchange, almost deserted now, after
+the close of the morning session. O'Brien was there, smoking a long
+black cigar and chatting in his boisterous, confidential way with Asbury
+Harpending. The latter was babbling in real estate.
+
+"Hullo, Windham!" he greeted. "You don't look very fit.... Been ill?"
+
+"Yes," Benito told him. "Laid up since the last of May. What's new?"
+
+"Nothing much--since the bottom dropped out of Comstock."
+
+Instinctively Benito's hand went out toward a chair. He sank into it
+weakly. So that was the explanation of Ralston's swift departure.
+
+He felt the men's eyes upon him as he walked unsteadily to the files and
+scanned them. Ophir stock had dropped 50 per cent. Gould and Curry was
+even lower. Benito closed the book and walked blindly out of
+the exchange.
+
+After a time he heard footsteps following. Harpending's voice came,
+"Hey, there, Windham." Benito turned.
+
+"Cleaned out?" asked the other sympathetically.
+
+"Not--quite."
+
+"Then forget the stocks. They're tricky things at best.... I've a
+proposition that's a winner. Positively.... There's law work to be done.
+We need you."
+
+"Montgomery Street Straight" was the plan. It was to be extended across
+Market street either in a straight line or at an easy angle--over all
+obstructions to the bay.
+
+"But such a scheme would involve millions," Benito objected. "It would
+cut through the Latham and Parrott homes for instance.... Old Senator
+Latham would hold you up for a prohibitive price. And Parrott would
+fight you to a finish."
+
+"Quite right," returned Harpending. "That's where you come in, Benito.
+We want you to draw us a bill and lobby it through the Legislature...."
+
+"The thing is to make it a law. Then the Governor must appoint a
+commission. The Latham and Parrott properties will be condemned and we
+can acquire them at a fair price."
+
+"Very well," Benito answered. "It's a go."
+
+Several days after his talk with Harpending, Benito met Adrian and
+Francisco, the latter a tall, gangling lad of sixteen. Father and son
+were talking animatedly, discussing some point on which Francisco seemed
+determined to have his way.
+
+"What d'ye think of this youngster of mine?" Stanley questioned.
+"Scarcely out of short pants and wants to be a newspaper man! I say he
+should go to school a few years more ... to one of those Eastern
+colleges you hear so much about. I've the money. He doesn't need to
+work.... Talk to him, Benito. Make him listen to sense."
+
+"I don't wish to go East, Uncle Ben," said Francisco. "What good will
+it do me to learn Latin and Greek.... Higher mathematics and social
+snobbery? I want to get to work. Calvin McDonald's offered me a job on
+The American Flag."
+
+"What will you do? Write editorials or poetry?" his father asked.
+
+Francisco flushed. "I'll be a copy boy to start with.... And there's no
+harm in writing poetry. Uncle Ben does it himself."
+
+It was Benito's turn to redden. "Better let the boy have his way," he
+said hastily. "Journalism's quite an education in itself."
+
+"So, you're against me, too! Well, well. I'll see about it."
+
+They shook hands good-humoredly, the boy beaming. Afterward news reached
+Benito that young Stanley was a member of McDonald's staff.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In 1865 there came the joyous news of victory and peace. The Democratic
+Press accepted Lee's surrender sullenly, printing now and then a covert
+sneer at Grant or Lincoln. Enmity died hard in Southern breasts.
+
+One morning as he came to town Benito saw a crowd of angry and excited
+men running down Montgomery street. Some of them brandished canes. "Down
+with Copperheads," they were shouting. Presently he heard a crash of
+glass, a cry of protest. Then a door gave with a splintering sound. The
+crowd rushed through, into the offices and print rooms of the
+Democratic Press.
+
+There was more noise of wreckage and destruction. Broken chairs, tables,
+typecases, bits of machinery hurtled into the street. Benito grasped the
+arm of a man who was hurrying by. "What's wrong?" he asked.
+
+The other turned a flushed and angry mien toward him. "God Almighty!
+Haven't you heard? President Lincoln was shot last night ... by a
+brother of Ed Booth, the actor.... They say he's dying." He picked up a
+stone and hurled it at an upper window of the Press.
+
+"We'll show these traitor-dogs a thing or two," he called. "Come on,
+boys, let's wreck the place!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXI
+
+DESPERATE FINANCE
+
+The publishers of the Democratic Press had their lesson. In a city
+draped with black for a beloved President, they swept up the glass of
+their shattered windows, picked up what remained of scattered type,
+reassembled machinery and furniture--and experienced a change of heart.
+Presently The Examiner burgeoned from that stricken journalistic root.
+
+Francisco was now a member of the Alta staff, the aggressive but
+short-lived American Flag, having ceased publication several years after
+the war. Adrian admitted to Benito that the boy had justified his bent
+for journalistic work.
+
+"The young rascal's articles are attracting attention. He even signs
+some of them; now and then they print one of his verses--generally a
+satire on local events. And he gets passes to all of the theaters. Inez
+and I are going to 'Camille' tonight."
+
+"So are Alice and myself, by a coincidence." Benito lighted a cigar and
+puffed a moment; then he added, "Do you know what that boy of mine
+proposes to do?"
+
+"No," said Adrian. "Become an actor--or a politician?"
+
+"Well, it's almost as bad.... He wants to be a letter carrier.... The
+new free delivery routes will be established soon, you know."
+
+"Yes, the town's growing," commented Stanley. "Well, you'd better let
+young Robert have his way. He's almost as big as you.... How is
+'Montgomery Straight' progressing?"
+
+"Fairly well," returned Benito. "Latham and Parrott are fighting us as
+we expected. But Harpending's acquired Selim Woodworth's lot on Market
+street, just where Montgomery will cut through." He laughed. "Selim
+wanted half a million for it.... He'd have got it in a day or two
+because we had to have the property. But along comes an earthquake and
+literally shakes $350,000 out of Woodworth's pockets. Frightened him so
+badly that he sold for $150,000 and was glad to get it."
+
+"Well, even earthquakes have their uses," Adrian smiled. "Here comes
+Francisco. I'll have him see Maguire and arrange it so that we can sit
+together at the show."
+
+"Who is the lanky fellow with him?" asked Benito. "Looks as if he would
+appreciate a joke."
+
+"Oh, that's his friend, Sam Clemens," Adrian answered. "An improvident
+cuss but good company. He writes for the Carson Appeal under the name of
+Mark Twain."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Benito, that afternoon, was closeted with Harpending and Ralston in the
+Bank of California. The financier, who was backing the Montgomery street
+venture, regarded Harpending a trifle quizzically. "Once," he said, "you
+tried to be a pirate, Asbury.... Oh, no offense," he laid a soothing
+hand upon the other's knee. "But tonight I need a desperate man such as
+you. Another like Benito. We're going to raid the Mint."
+
+"What?" cried Windham, startled.
+
+"You'll need steadier nerves than that for our enterprise." Ralston
+passed his cigar case to the two men, saw them puffing equably ere he
+continued. "You know how tight the money situation has become because
+President Grant declines to let us exchange our gold bars for coin. With
+eight tons of gold in our vault we almost had a run this afternoon....
+Now, that's ridiculous." His fist smote the table. "Grant doesn't know
+the ropes.... But that's no reason why Hell should break loose
+tomorrow morning."
+
+"What are you going to do?" Benito asked.
+
+"Use my common sense--and save the banks," said Ralston shortly. "You
+two must meet me here this evening. Soon as it's dark. You'll have a
+hard night's work. My friend Dore will be there also. Can you suggest
+anyone else--absolutely to be trusted, who will ask no questions?"
+
+"My son," Benito answered; "Robert likes work. He wants to be a
+postal-carrier."
+
+"Bring him by all means," said Ralston. "If he helps us out tonight,
+I'll see that he gets anything he wants in San Francisco."
+
+He was boyishly eager; full of excited plans for his daring scheme. The
+two men left him chuckling as he bit the end off a fresh cigar.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was nearly nine o'clock when they left the Bank of California.
+Theater-going crowds were housed at the play; the streets were
+extraordinarily silent as the quintet made their way toward the Mint.
+Robert was breathing hard. The dark streets, the mysterious Empire
+ahead, the hint of danger and a mighty stake distilled a toxic and
+exhilarating fever in his blood. As the pillared front of the federal
+treasure house loomed up before them, Ralston made a sign for them to
+halt, advancing cautiously. With astonishment they saw him pass through
+the usually guarded door and disappear. Presently he emerged with
+two sacks.
+
+"Robert and Benito, take these to the bank," he whispered. "The watchmen
+there will give you the equivalent in gold bars to bring back." He
+turned to Harpending and Dore. "I'll have yours ready in a minute." Once
+more he vanished within.
+
+Robert picked up the bag allotted to him. It was very heavy. As he
+lifted it to his shoulder, the contents clinked.
+
+"Gold coin," said his father, significantly.
+
+"What if we're caught?" asked the boy, half fearfully. Ralston,
+reappearing, heard the question.
+
+"You won't be," he said. "I've attended to that."
+
+His assurance proved correct. All night the four men toiled between the
+Mint and the Bank of California sweating, puffing, fatigued to the brink
+of exhaustion. With the first streak of dawn, Ralston dismissed them.
+
+"You've brought five ton of gold coin to the vault," he said, his eyes
+agleam. "You've saved San Francisco the worst financial panic that ever
+a short-sighted federal government unwittingly precipitated." Suddenly
+he laughed and threw his arms wide. "At ten o'clock the frightened sheep
+will come running for their deposits.... Well, let 'em come."
+
+"And now you boys go home and get some sleep. By the Eternal, you
+deserve it!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXII
+
+ADOLPH SUTRO'S TUNNEL
+
+William C. Ralston's Bank of California had become the great financial
+institution of the West. Ralston was the Rothschild of America. Through
+him Central Pacific Railway promoters borrowed $3,000,000 with less
+formality than a country banker uses in mortgaging of a ten-acre farm.
+Two millions took their unobtrusive wing to South America, financing
+mines he had never seen. In Virginia City William Sharon directed a
+branch of the Bank of California and kept his eye on mineral investment.
+Benito sat in Ralston's office one morning, smoking and discussing the
+Montgomery street problem when a clerk tapped at the door.
+
+"A fellow's out here from Virginia City," he said nervously. "Wants to
+see you quickly 'and no bones about it.' That's what he told me."
+
+"All right, send him in," said Ralston laughing. "Stay, Benito. He won't
+take a minute...." Ere he finished there stalked in a wild-eyed
+individual clad in boots, the slouch hat of the mining man, a suit of
+handsome broadcloth, mud-bespattered and a heavy golden watch chain with
+the usual nugget charm. He was a clean-cat type of mining speculator
+from Nevada.
+
+"Sit down," invited Ralston. "Have a smoke."
+
+The intruder glared at Windham; then he eased himself uncomfortably into
+a spacious leather-covered seat, bit off the end of a cigar,
+half-viciously and, having found the cuspidor, began.
+
+"I've something for your ear alone, Bill Ralston...."
+
+"Meet Benito Windham," Ralston introduced. "Speak out. I have no
+secrets from my friends."
+
+The other hemmed and hawed. He seemed averse to putting into words some
+thought which troubled him beyond repression. "Do you know," he burst
+out finally, "that your partner, Sharon, has become the most incurable
+and dissolute gambler in Nevada?"
+
+"You don't say." Ralston did not seem as shocked as one might have
+expected. "Well, my friend, that sounds quite serious.... What's poor
+Bill's particular kind of--vice?"
+
+"Poker," said the visitor. "By the Eternal, that man Sharon would stake
+his immortal soul on a four-card flush and never bat an eye. Time and
+time again I've seen it."
+
+Ralston leaned back comfortably, his folded hands across his middle. His
+speculative stare was on a marble statue. At length he spoke. "Does
+Sharon win or lose?"
+
+"Well," the other man admitted, "I must say he wins...."
+
+"Then he's just the man I want," Ralston spoke with emphasis. He rose,
+held out his hand toward the flustered visitor. "Thanks for telling
+me.... And now we'll all go for a drink together."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"That's Bill Ralston!" said Benito to his wife. They laughed about the
+anecdote which Windham had related at the dinner table. Robert, in his
+new letter-carrier's uniform, spoke up. "I saw him at the bank this
+afternoon.... There was a letter from Virginia City and he kept me
+waiting till he opened it. Then he slapped me on the shoulder. 'If the
+contents of that letter had been known to certain people, son,' he told
+me, 'they'd have cleaned up a fortune on the information.' Then he
+handed me a gold-piece. But I wouldn't take it. 'Don't be proud,' he
+said and poked me in the ribs. 'And don't forget that Bill Ralston's
+your friend.'"
+
+"Everybody calls him 'Bill,'" his mother added. "Washerwomen,
+teamsters, beggars, millionaires. If ever there was a friend of the
+people it is he."
+
+"Some day, though, he'll overplay his game," Benito prophesied.
+
+Ralston had been euchered out of a railroad to Eureka, planned by
+Harpending and himself and opposed by the Big Four; "Montgomery to the
+Bay" was meeting with a host of difficulties; the Grand Hotel was
+building and Kearny street, where he owned property, was being widened.
+Ralston's genial countenance showed sometimes a little strained pucker
+between the eyes.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Now and then Benito met a man named Adolph Sutro. They called him "The
+Man With a Dream." Stocky, under average height, intensely businesslike,
+he was--a German Burgomeister type, with Burnside whiskers and a
+purpose. He proposed to drive a tunnel four miles long from Carson
+valley, and strike the Comstock levels 1800 feet below the surface.
+
+An English syndicate was backing him. The work was going on.
+
+Much of Sutro's time was spent in Virginia City, superintending the work
+on his tunnel. But he fell into the habit of finding Benito whenever he
+came to town--dragging him from home with awkward but sincere
+apologies to Alice.
+
+"You will lend me your husband, Hein?" he would say. "I like to tell him
+of my fancies, for he understands ... the others laugh at me."
+
+Alice smiled into his broad, good humored face. "That's very silly of
+them."
+
+"Donnerwetter! Some day they will laugh the other way around," he
+threatened.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Benito and Sutro usually drove or rode through the Presidio and out
+along a road which skirted cliffs and terminated at the Seal Rock House.
+There they dined and watched the seals disporting on some sea-drenched
+rocks, a stone's throw distant. And there Sutro indulged in more dreams.
+
+"Some day I shall purchase that headland and build me a home ... and
+farther inland I shall grow a forest out of eucalyptus trees. They come
+from Australia.... One can buy them cheap enough.... They grow fast like
+bamboo in the Tropics." He clapped a hand upon Benito's knee. "I shall
+call it Mount Parnassus."
+
+Benito tried to smile appreciatively. He felt rather dubious about the
+scheme. But he liked to see the other's quiet eyes flash with an
+unexpected fire. Perhaps his genius might indeed reclaim this desolate
+region. Inward from the beach lay the waste of sand-hills known as
+Golden Gate Park. There was talk among the real estate visionaries of
+making it a pleasure ground.
+
+So regularly did they end their outings with a dinner at the Seal Rock
+House that Alice always knew where to find her husband in case some
+clamorous client sought Benito's aid. And tonight as an attendant called
+his name he answered with no other thought than that he would be asked
+to make a will or soothe some jealous and importunate wife who wanted a
+divorce without delay. They usually did want them that way. He rose,
+leisurely enough, and made his way to the door. There, instead of the
+usual messenger boy, stood Alice.
+
+"You must come at once," she panted. "Robert has been robbed of an
+important letter to the bank. They talk of arresting him.... Ralston
+wants you at his office."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIII
+
+LEES SOLVES A MYSTERY
+
+In the president's office at the Bank of California, Benito found his
+son, pale but intrepid. He was being questioned by William Sharon and a
+postoffice inspector. Ralston, hands crammed into trousers pockets,
+paced the room disturbedly.
+
+"You admit, then, that the envelope was given you?" Sharon was asking
+truculently as Benito entered.
+
+"Yes," said Robert, "I remember seeing such a letter as I packed my
+mail."
+
+"Humph!" exclaimed Sharon. He seemed about to ask another question, but
+the postal official anticipated him. "Explain what happened after you
+left the mail station."
+
+"Nothing much ... I walked up Washington street as usual. On the edge of
+Chinatown a woman stopped me ... asked me how to get to Market street."
+
+"Is that all?"
+
+"Yes, that's all," said Robert. "She seemed confused by our criss-cross
+streets. I had to tell her several times ... to point the way before she
+understood."
+
+"And nothing else happened?"
+
+"Nothing else--except that Mr. Ralston asked me for the letter. Said he
+was expecting it.... I searched my bag but couldn't find it."
+
+"Tell us more about this woman. Give us a description of her."
+
+"Spanish type," said Robert tersely. "Very pleasant; smiled a lot and
+had gold fillings in her teeth. Must have been quite handsome when she
+was young."
+
+The inspector stroked his chin reflectively. "Didn't set the bag down,
+did you? ... when you pointed out the way, for instance?"
+
+"Let me see.... Why, yes--I did. I hadn't thought of that...."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Captain of Detectives I.W. Lees was making a record for himself among
+the nation's crime-detectors. He was a swarthy little man, implacable as
+an Indian and as pertinacious on a trail. He never forgot a face and no
+amount of disguise could hide its identity from his penetrating glance.
+Without great vision or imagination, he knew criminals as did few other
+men; could reason from cause to effect within certain channels,
+unerringly. He was heartless, ruthless--some said venal. But he caught
+and convicted felons, solved the problems of his office by a dogged
+perseverance that ignored defeat. For, with a mind essentially tricky,
+he anticipated tricksters--unless their operations were beyond
+his scope.
+
+It was 10 o'clock at night, but he was still at work upon a case which,
+up to now, had baffled him--a case of opium smuggling--when Robert and
+Benito entered. At first he listened to them inattentively. But at
+Robert's story of the woman, he became electrified.
+
+"Rose Terranza! Dance hall girl back in the Eldorado days! Queen of the
+Night Life under half a dozen names! Smiling Rose, some called her. Good
+clothes and gold in her teeth! I've her picture--wait a minute." He
+pulled a cord; a bell jangled somewhere. An officer entered.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Chinatown at midnight. Dark and narrow streets; fat, round paper
+lanterns here and there above dim doorways; silent forms,
+soft-shuffling, warily alert.
+
+"Wait one minee," said Po Lun. "I find 'em door."
+
+Following the Chinaman were Captain Lees, with his half a dozen "plain
+clothes men," Benito, Robert and the mail inspector. Presently Po spoke
+again. "Jus' alound co'ne'" (corner), he whispered. "Me go ahead. Plitty
+soon you come. You hea' me makem noise ... allee same cat."
+
+Lees descried him as he paused before a dimly lighted door. Evidently he
+was challenged; gave a countersign. For the door swung back. Po Lun
+passed through. Nothing happened for a time. Then a piercing feline wail
+stabbed through the night.
+
+"M-i-i-a-o-w-r-r-r!"
+
+Lees sprang forward, pressed his weight against the partly-open portal;
+flashed his dark lantern on two figures struggling violently. His hand
+fell on the collar of Po Lun's antagonist; a policeman's "billy" cracked
+upon his skull. "Tie and gag him," said the captain. "Leave a man on
+guard.... The rest of you come on."
+
+Po Lun leading, they went, single file through utter blackness. Now and
+then the white disc of Lees' lantern, now in Po Lun's hand, gleamed like
+a guiding will-o-wisp upon the tortuous path.
+
+Suddenly Benito felt the presence of new personalities. They seemed to
+be in a room with other people. Several dark lamps flashed at Po Lun's
+signal. They revealed a room sumptuously furnished. Teakwood chairs,
+with red embroidered backs and cushions, stood about the walls. Handsome
+gilded grillwork screened a boudoir worthy of a queen. Clad in the
+laciest of robes de chambre, a dark-skinned woman sat on the edge of a
+canopied bed. She was past her first youth, but still of remarkable
+beauty. At the foot of the bed stood McTurpin--pale ghost of his former
+self. He looked like a cornered rat ... and quite as dangerous. Two
+Chinese were crouched against a lacquered screen.
+
+"What do you want?" asked the woman, her voice shrill with anger.
+
+"Take your hand out from under that pillow!" ordered Lees. "No nonsense,
+Smiling Rose."
+
+Reluctantly the ringed and tapered fingers that had clutched apparently
+a hidden weapon came into view. "Light the lamps," said Lees, and one of
+his men performed this office.
+
+"That's the woman, father," spoke young Robert, unexpectedly.
+
+"Put the bracelets on her," ordered Lees, "and search the place." A man
+stepped forward.
+
+But they had not counted on McTurpin. "Let her be," he screamed. A
+pistol flashed. The officer went down at Rose's feet.
+
+Instantly there was confusion. The room was filled with shuffling
+Oriental figures. The lights went out. Powder-flashes leaped like
+fireflies in the darkness. Through it all Lees could be heard profanely
+giving orders.
+
+Then, as swiftly, it was over. Somewhere a door closed. Lees leaped
+forward just in time to hear an iron bar clang into place.
+
+"Gone," he muttered, as his light searched vainly for the woman.
+
+"Who's that on the bed?" asked Benito.
+
+"The cursed opium-wreck, McTurpin," Lees replied impatiently. "I planted
+him when I saw Dick go down." He bent above the wounded officer while
+Benito relighted the lamps and examined curiously the body of his
+ancient enemy. For McTurpin was dead. He had evidently tried to reach
+the woman as he fell. His clawlike fingers clutched, in rigor mortis,
+her abandoned robe. On the floor, where it had fallen from her bosom,
+doubtless in the hasty flight, there lay a crumpled, bloodstained
+envelope. Robert springing forward, seized it with an exclamation. It
+was addressed to William C. Ralston.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIV
+
+AN IDOL TOPPLES
+
+News had come in early spring of Robert Windham senior's death in
+Monterey; less than two months afterward his wife, Anita, lay beside him
+in the Spanish cemetery.
+
+The old Californians were passing; here and there some venerable Hidalgo
+played the host upon broad acres as in ancient days and came to San
+Francisco, booted, spurred, attended by a guard of vaqueros. But a new
+generation gazed at him curiously and, after a lonely interval,
+he departed.
+
+Market street was now a lordly thoroughfare; horse-cars jingled merrily
+along the leading streets. Up Clay street ran that wonder of the age, a
+cable-tram invented by old Hallidie, the engineer. They had made game
+of him for years until he demonstrated his invention for the conquering
+of hills. Now the world was seeking him to solve its transportation
+problems.
+
+Ralston, as usual, was riding on the crest of fortune. His was a
+veritable lust for city building. Each successive day he founded some
+new enterprise.
+
+"Like a master juggler," said Benito to his wife, "he keeps a hundred
+interests in the air. Let's see. There are the Mission Woolen Mills, the
+Kimball Carriage Works, the Cornell Watch Factory--of all things--the
+West Coast Furniture plant, the San Francisco Sugar Refinery, the Grand
+Hotel, a dry dock at Hunter's Point, the California Theater, a
+reclamation scheme at Sherman Island, the San Joaquin Valley irrigating
+system, the Rincon Hill cut, the extension of Montgomery street ..." he
+checked them off on his fingers, pausing finally for lack of breath.
+
+"You've forgotten the Palace Hotel," said Alice smiling.
+
+"No," Benito said, "I hadn't got that far. But the Palace is typical.
+Ralston wants San Francisco to have the best of everything the world can
+give. He's mad about this town. It's wife and child to him. Why it's
+almost his God!"
+
+Alice looked into his eyes. "You're fearful for your prince! You Monte
+Cristo!"
+
+"Yes," he said, "I'm frankly worried. Something's got to drop.... It's
+too--too splendid."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As he went down Market street toward Montgomery, Benito paused to
+observe the new Palace Hotel. Hundreds of bricklayers, carpenters and
+other workmen were raising it with astonishing speed. Hod-carriers raced
+up swaying ladders, steam-winches puffed and snorted; great vats of lime
+and mortar blockaded the street. It was to have a great inner court upon
+which seven galleries would look down. Ralston boasted he would make it
+a hotel for travelers to talk of round the world. And no one in San
+Francisco doubted it.
+
+Benito, eyes upraised to view the labors of a bustling human hive,
+almost collided with two gentlemen, who were strolling westward, arm in
+arm. He apologized. They roared endearing curses at him and insisted
+that he join them in a drink.
+
+They were J.C. Flood and W.S. O'Brien, former saloon proprietors now
+reputed multi-millionaires.
+
+Early in the seventies they had joined forces with Jim Mackey, a
+blaster, at Virginia City and a mining man named J.G. Fair. Between them
+they bought up the supposedly depleted Consolidated Virginia Mine,
+paying from $4 to $9 each for its 10,700 shares. Mining experts smiled
+good naturedly, forgot the matter. Then the world was brought upstanding
+by the news of a bonanza hitherto unrivaled.
+
+Con. Virginia had gained a value of $150,000,000.
+
+After he had sipped the French champagne, on which Flood insisted and
+which Windham disliked, the latter spoke of Ralston and his trouble with
+the editors. "Some of the newspapers would have us think he's playing
+recklessly, with other people's money," he said with irritation.
+
+'"Well, well, and maybe he is, me b'y," returned O'Brien. "Don't blame
+the newspaper fellahs.... They've raison to be suspicious, Hiven
+knows.... Ralston's a prince. We all love the man. It's not that.
+But--," he came closer, caught both of Benito's coat lapels in a
+confidential grasp, "I'm tellin' ye this, me lad: If it should come to a
+show-down ... if certain enemies should have a chance to call Bill
+Ralston's hand, I tell ye, it would mean dee-saster!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At 9 o'clock on the morning of August 25, Francisco Stanley entered the
+private door of Windham's office. He was now an under-editor on The
+Chronicle, which had developed from the old Dramatic Chronicle, into a
+daily newspaper. Benito glanced up from his desk a bit impatiently; it
+was a busy day.
+
+"What's the matter, Francisco? You're excited."
+
+"I've a right to be," the journalist spoke sharply. He glanced at his
+uncle's secretary. "I must see you alone."
+
+"Can't you come in later? I've a lot of clients waiting."
+
+"For God's sake, Uncle Ben," the younger man said desperately, "send
+them off."
+
+Benito gazed at him, astonished. Then convinced by something in
+Francisco's eyes, he nodded to the secretary who departed.
+
+"It's Ralston ... word has reached the newspapers ... his bank has
+failed."
+
+Benito sprang to his feet. "You're crazy! It's--impossible!"
+
+"Uncle Ben, IT'S TRUE!" His fingers closed almost spasmodically upon the
+other's arm.
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"RALSTON SAYS SO. I've just come from there.... He wants you."
+
+Benito reached dazedly for his hat.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Benito found "Bill" Ralston in his private office, head bowed; eyes
+dully hopeless. He looked ten years older.
+
+"The Bank of California has failed," he said before the younger man
+could ask a question. "It will never reopen its doors."
+
+"I--I simply can't believe it!" After a stunned silence Benito spoke. He
+laid a hand on the banker's shoulder. "All I have is at your
+service, Ralston."
+
+"Thank you ... but it isn't any use." He looked up misty-eyed. "I tried
+to make this town the greatest in the world.... I went too far.... I
+played too big a stake. Now--" he tried to smile. "Now comes the
+reckoning."
+
+"But, God Almighty! Ralston," cried Benito, "your assets must be
+enormous.... It's only a matter of time. You'll pull through."
+
+"They won't give me time," he spoke no names, yet Windham knew he meant
+those who had turned from friends to enemies.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Two days later Francisco met Ralston coming out of the bank. His face
+was haggard. His eyes had the look of one who has been struck an
+unexpected blow.
+
+"Will the directors' meeting take place today, Mr. Ralston?"
+
+"It's in session now," he answered dully.
+
+"Ah, I thought, perhaps--since you are leaving--it had been postponed."
+
+Spots of red flamed in the banker's cheeks. "They've barred me from the
+meeting," he replied and hurried on.
+
+Several hours later newsboys ran through San Francisco's streets:
+"EXTRA! EXTRA!" they screamed, "ALL ABOUT RALSTON'S SUICIDE."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXV
+
+INDUSTRIAL UNREST
+
+About the Bank of California was a surging press of men and women. The
+doors of that great financial institution were closed, blinds drawn, as
+on the previous day. Now and then an officer or director passed the
+guarded portals. D.O. Mills was one of these, his stern, ascetic face
+more severe than usual.
+
+Francisco Stanley pushed his way up to the carriage as it started.
+
+"Will the bank reopen, Mr. Mills?" he asked, walking along beside the
+moving vehicle.
+
+The financier's eyes glared from the inner shadows. "Yes, yes.
+Certainly," he snapped. "Very shortly ... as soon as we can levy an
+assessment" The coachman whipped up his horses; the carriage rolled off.
+Francisco turned to face his uncle. "What did he say?" asked Benito.
+Others crowded close to hear the young editor's answer. The word found
+it way through the crowd. "The bank will reopen.... They'll levy an
+assessment.... We won't lose a cent."
+
+Gradually the throng disbanded. Everywhere one heard expressions of
+sorrow for Ralston; doubt of the story that he had destroyed his life.
+As a matter of fact a coroner's jury found that death resulted from
+cerebral attack. An insurance company waived its suicide exemption
+clause and paid his widow $50,000.
+
+The Bank of California was reopened. Ralston, buried with the pomp and
+splendor of a sorrowing multitude, was presently forgotten. Few new
+troubles came upon the land. Overspeculation in the Comstock lode
+brought economic unrest.
+
+Thousands were unemployed in San Francisco. Agitators rallied them at
+public meetings into furious and morbid groups. From the Eastern States
+came telegraphic news of strikes and violence. Adrian returned one
+evening, tired and harassed.
+
+"I don't know what's got into the working people," he said to Inez.
+
+"Oh, they'll get over that," pronounced Francisco, with the sweeping
+confidence of youth. "These intervals of discontent are periodical--like
+epidemics of diseases."
+
+Adrian glanced at the treatise on Political Economy in his son's hand.
+"And what would you suggest, my boy?" he asked with a faint smile.
+
+"Leave them alone," said Francisco. "It goes through a regular form.
+They have agitators who talk of Bloodsucking Plutocrats, Rights of the
+People and all that. But it generally ends in mere words."
+
+"The Paris Commune didn't end in mere words," reminded Adrian.
+
+"Oh, that!" Francisco was a trifle nonplussed. "Well, of course--"
+
+"There have been serious riots in Eastern States."
+
+"But--they had leaders. Here we've none."
+
+"I'm not so sure of that," said Adrian thoughtfully. "D'ye know that
+Irish drayman, Dennis Kearney?"
+
+"Y-e-s ... the one who used to be a sailor?"
+
+"That's the man. He's clever; knows men like a book.... Has power and a
+knack for words. He calls our Legislature 'The Honorable Bilks.' Wants
+to start a Workingmen's Party. And he'll do it, too, or I'm mistaken.
+His motto is 'The Chinese Must Go!'"
+
+"By Harry! There's a story for the paper," said Francisco. "I must see
+the fellow."
+
+Robert Windham and Po Lun were out for a morning promenade. They often
+walked together of a Sunday. Robert, though he was now twenty-six, still
+retained his childhood friendship for the Chinese servitor; found him an
+agreeable, often-times a sage companion. Urged by Alice, whose ambitious
+love included all within her ken, Po Lun attended night school; he could
+read and write English passably, though the letter "r" still foiled his
+Oriental tongue. Today they were out to have a look at the new
+city hall.
+
+On a sand lot opposite several hundred men had gathered, pressing round
+a figure mounted on a barrel. The orator gesticulated violently. Now and
+then there were cheers. A brandishing of fists and canes. Po Lun halted
+in sudden alarm. "Plitty soon they get excited. They don't like Chinese.
+I think maybe best we go back."
+
+But already Po's "pig-tail" had attracted attention. The speaker pointed
+to him.
+
+"There's one of them Heathen Chinese," he cried shrilly. "The dirty
+yaller boys what's takin' bread out of our mouths. Down with them, I
+say. Make this a white man's country."
+
+An ominous growl came from the crowd. Several rough-looking fellows
+started toward Robert and Po Lun. The latter was for taking to his
+heels, but Robert stood his ground.
+
+"What do you fellows want?"
+
+They paused, abashed by his intrepid manner. "No offense, young man. We
+ain't after you. It's that Yaller Heathen.... The kind that robs us of a
+chance to live."
+
+"Po Lun has never robbed anyone of a chance to live. He's our cook ...
+and my friend. You leave him alone."
+
+"He sends all his money back to China," sneered another coming closer,
+brandishing a stick. "A fine American, ain't he?"
+
+"A better one than you," said Robert hotly. Anger got the better of his
+judgment and he snatched the stick out of the fellow's hand, broke it,
+threw it to the ground.
+
+Savagely they fell upon him. He went down, stunned by a blow on the
+head, a sense of crushing weight that overwhelmed his strength. He was
+vaguely conscious of a tirade of strange words, of an arm at the end of
+which was a meat cleaver, lashing about. The vindictive bark of a
+pistol. Shouts, feet running. A blue-coated form. A vehicle with
+champing horses that stood by.
+
+"Are you hurt very bad, young feller?"
+
+Robert moved his arms and legs. They appeared intact. He rose, stiffly.
+"Where's Po Lun?"
+
+"In the wagon."
+
+Robert, turning, observed an ambulance. "Not--dead?"
+
+"Well, pretty near it," said the policeman. "He saved your life though,
+the yellow devil. Laid out half a dozen of them hoodlums with a hatchet.
+He's shot through the lungs. But Doc. says he's got a chance."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Late that afternoon William T. Coleman sat closeted with Chief Ellis of
+the San Francisco police. Coleman bore but scant resemblance to the
+youth of 1856. He was heavier, almost bald, moustached, more settled,
+less alert in manner. Yet his eyes had in them still the old invincible
+gleam of leadership.
+
+"But," he was saying to the man in uniform, "that was twenty years ago.
+Can't you find a younger chap to head your Citizens' Committee?"
+
+"No," said Ellis shortly. "You're the one we need. You know the way to
+deal with outlaws ... how to make the citizens respond. Do you know that
+the gang wrecked several Chinese laundries after the attack on Windham?
+That they threaten to burn the Pacific Mail docks?"
+
+Chief Ellis drew a little nearer. "General McComb of the State forces
+has called a mass meeting. He wishes you to take charge...."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVI
+
+THE PICK-HANDLE BRIGADE
+
+Benito found his son awaiting when he returned from the Citizens' Mass
+Meeting at midnight. Robert, insisting that he was "fit as a fiddle,"
+had nevertheless been put to bed through the connivance of an anxious
+mother and the family physician, who found him to have suffered some
+severe contusions and lacerations in the morning's fray. But he was wide
+awake and curious when his father's latch key grated in the door.
+
+"It must have seemed like old times, didn't it, dad?" he asked with
+enthusiasm. The Vigilance Committee of the Fifties in his young mind was
+a knightly company. As a boy he used to listen, eager and excited, to
+his father's tales of Coleman. Now his hero was again to take the stage.
+
+"Yes, it took me back," said Windham. "I was about your age then and
+Coleman was just in his thirties." He sat down a trifle wearily. "The
+years aren't kind. Some of the fellows who were young in '56 seemed old
+tonight.... But they have the same spirit."
+
+"Tell me what happened," said Robert, after a pause.
+
+Benito's eyes flashed. "You should have heard them cheer when Coleman
+rose. He called for his old comrades and we stood up. Then there was
+more cheering. Coleman is all business. He commenced at once enrolling
+men for his pick-handle brigade; he's refused fire-arms. He has fifteen
+hundred already, divided into companies of a hundred each--with their
+own officers."
+
+"And are you an officer, dad?" asked Robert.
+
+"Yes," Benito smiled. "But my company is one man short. We've only
+ninety-nine."
+
+"How's that?" Robert's tone was puzzled.
+
+Windham rose. "I'm saving it," he answered, "for a wounded hero, who, I
+rather hope, will volunteer."
+
+"FATHER!" cried the young man rapturously.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At the Mount Zion Hospital Po Lun fought with death on Tuesday. The
+bullet was removed; but though this brought relief, there came an
+aftermath of fever and destroying weakness. Alice and her son were at
+his bedside, but Po Lun did not recognize them.
+
+Mrs. Windham turned a tear-stained face to the physician. "Can nothing
+be done?" she pleaded. "He saved my boy.... Oh, doctor! You won't
+let him die."
+
+The young physician's sympathy showed plainly in his eyes. "I've done
+everything," he said. "He's sinking. If I knew a way to rouse him there
+might be a chance."
+
+As he spoke Francisco Stanley entered, viewed the silent figure on the
+cot and shook his head. "Poor Po Lun. At any rate he's been a hero in
+the papers. I've seen to that ..."
+
+"He was delirious all morning ... stretching out his arms and calling
+'Hang Far! Hang Far!' Do you know what it means?"
+
+"I do," Alice answered; "it's the girl from whom he was separated nearly
+twenty years ago."
+
+"Why--that's funny," said Francisco. "Yesterday a woman by that name was
+captured by the mission-workers in a raid on Chinatown. I wonder....
+Could it be the same one?"
+
+"Not likely," the physician answered. "It's a common name, I think.
+Still--" he looked at Po Lun.
+
+"Run and get her," Alice urged. "It's a chance. Go quickly."
+
+Half an hour passed; an hour, while the watchers waited at the bedside
+of Po Lun. Gradually his respiration waned. Several times the nurse
+called the physician, thinking death had come. But a spark still
+lingered, growing fainter with the minutes till a mist upon a mirror was
+the only sign that breath remained.
+
+Suddenly there was a rush of feet, a door flung open and Francisco
+entered, half dragging a Chinese woman by the arm. She gazed with
+frantic eyes from Alice to Robert till her glance took in the figure on
+the bed. She stared at it curiously, incredulously. Then she gave a
+little cry and flung herself toward Po Lun.
+
+What she said no one there present knew. What strange cabal she invoked
+is still a mystery. Be that as it may, eyes which had seemed closed
+forever, opened. Lips white, bloodless, breathed a scarce-heard whisper.
+
+"_Hang Far_!"
+
+"Come," said Alice. "Let us leave them together."
+
+Half an later, in an ante-room, the doctor told them: "He will live, I
+think. It's very like a miracle...."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At the foot of Brannan street lay the Pacific Mail docks, where the
+Chinese laborers were landed. Many thousands of them had been brought
+there by the steamers from Canton. They had solved vexed problems as
+house servants, fruit pickers, tillers of the soil; they had done the
+rough work in the building of many bridges, the stemming of turbulent
+streams, the construction of highways. And while there was work for all,
+they had caused little trouble.
+
+Now half a thousand jobless workers, armed and reckless, marched toward
+the docks. They bore torches, which illuminated fitfully their flushed,
+impassioned faces. Here and there one carried a transparency described,
+"The Chinese Must Go."
+
+[Illustration: Half a thousand jobless workers, armed and reckless,
+marched toward the docks. They bore torches.... "A hell-bent crew'"
+said Ellis.]
+
+Chief Ellis and a squad of mounted policemen watched them as they
+marched down Second street, shouting threats and waving their
+firebrands. "They're a hell-bent crew," he said to William Coleman. "Is
+your posse ready?"
+
+"Yes," he answered, "they've assembled near the dock. I've twenty
+companies."
+
+"Good.... You'll need 'em all."
+
+As he spoke a tongue of flame leaped upward from the darkness. Another
+and another.
+
+"They've fired the lumber yards," the chief said. "I expected that.
+There is fire apparatus on the spot.... It's time to move."
+
+He spurred forward, rounding up his officers. Coleman rode silently
+toward the entrance of the docks. Very soon a bugle sounded. There were
+staccato orders; then a tramp of feet.
+
+The Citizens' army moved in perfect unison toward the fires. Already
+engines were at work. One blaze was extinguished. Then came sounds of
+battle. Cries, shots. Coleman and his men rushed forward.
+
+Stones and sticks flew through the air. Now and then a pistol barked.
+The mounted police descended with a clatter, clubbing their way into the
+throng. But they did not penetrate far, so dense was the pack; it hemmed
+them about, pulling officers from their horses. The fire engines had
+been stopped. One of them was pushed into the bay.
+
+More fires leaped from incendiary torches. The rioters seemed
+triumphant. Then Coleman's brigade fell upon them.
+
+Whack, whack, whack, fell the pick-handles upon the backs, shoulders,
+sometimes heads of rioters. It was like a systematic tattoo. Coleman's
+voice was heard directing, here and there, cool and dispassionate. A
+couple of locomotive headlights threw their glare upon the now
+disordered gangsters. Whack! Whack! Whack!
+
+Suddenly the rioters, bleating, panic-stricken, fled like frightened
+sheep. They scattered in every direction leader*-less, completely
+routed. The fire engines resumed work. An ambulance came up and the work
+of attending the wounded began. The fight was over.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVII
+
+DENNIS KEARNEY
+
+Weeks went by and brought no further outbreak. Chinatown which, for a
+time, was shuttered, fortified, almost deserted, once again resumed its
+feverish activities. In the theaters, funny men made jokes about the
+labor trouble. In the East strikes had abated. All seemed safe and
+orderly again.
+
+But San Francisco had yet to deal with Dennis Kearney.
+
+Dennis, born in County Cork just thirty years before, filled adventurous
+roles since his eleventh year, mostly on the so-called "hell-ships"
+which beat up and down the mains of trade. In 1868 he first set foot in
+San Francisco as an officer of the clipper "Shooting Star." Tiring of
+the sea he put his earnings in a draying enterprise. This, for half a
+dozen years, had prospered.
+
+Suddenly he cast his business interests to the winds. Became a labor
+agitator.
+
+Francisco Stanley, who had sought him, questing for an interview since
+morning, cornered him at last in Bob Woodward's What Cheer House at
+Sacramento and Leidesdorff streets. It was one of those odd institutions
+found only in this vividly bizarre metropolis of the West. For "two
+bits" you could get a bed and breakfast at the What Cheer House, both
+clean and wholesome enough for the proudest. If you had not the coin, it
+made little difference. One room was fitted out as a museum and
+contained the many curious articles which had found their way into
+Woodward's hands. Another room was the hotel library; the first free
+reading room in San Francisco.
+
+At the What Cheer House all kinds of people gathered. Stanley, as he
+peeped into the library, noted a judge of the Superior Court poring over
+a volume of Dickens. He waved a salute to tousle-haired, eagle-beaked
+Sam Clemens, whose Mark Twain articles were beginning to attract
+attention from the Eastern publishers. Near him, quietly sedate,
+absorbed in Macaulay, was Bret Harte. He had been a Wells-Fargo
+messenger, miner, clerk and steam-boat hand, so rumor said, and now he
+was writing stories of the West. Stanley would have liked to stop and
+chat ... but Kearney must be found and interviewed before The Chronicle
+went to press.
+
+Presently a loud, insistent voice attracted his attention. It was
+penetrating, violent, denunciatory. Francisco knew that voice. He went
+into an outer room where perhaps a dozen rough-clad men were gathered
+about a figure of medium height, compactly built, with a broad head,
+shifting blue eyes and a dynamic, nervous manner.
+
+"Don't forget," he pounded fist on palm for emphasis, "on August 18 we
+organize the party. Johnny Day will be the prisident. We'll make thim
+bloody plutocrats take notice." He paused, catching sight of Stanley.
+Instantly his frowning face became all smiles. "Ah, here's me young
+friend, the reporter," he said. "Come along Misther Stanley, and I'll
+give yez a yarn for the paper. Lave me tell ye of the Workingmen's Trade
+and Labor Union."
+
+He kept Francisco's pencil busy.
+
+"There ain't no strings on us. We're free from all political
+connections. We're for oursilves. Get that."
+
+"Our password's 'The Chinese Must Go.'"
+
+"How do you propose to accomplish this?" asked Stanley.
+
+"Aisy enough," returned the other with supreme confidence. "We'll have
+the treaty wid Chiny changed. We'll sind back all the yellow divils if
+they interfere wid us Americans."
+
+Stanley could not repress a smile. Kearney himself had been naturalized
+only a year before.
+
+For an hour he unfolded principles, threatened men of wealth, pounded
+Stanley's knee until it was sore and finally stalked off, highly pleased
+with himself.
+
+"He's amusing enough," said Francisco to his father that evening. "But
+we mustn't underrate him as you said. The fellow has force. He knows the
+way to stir up human passion and he'll use his knowledge to the full.
+Also he knows equity and law. Some of his ideas are altruistic."
+
+"What is he going to do to the Central Pacific nabobs if they don't
+discharge their Chinese laborers?" asked Adrian.
+
+Young Stanley laughed. "He threatens to dynamite their castles on the
+hill."
+
+His father did not answer immediately. "It may not be as funny as you
+think," he commented.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+With the weeks Po Lun mended rapidly. Hang Far was at his bedside many
+hours each day. Alice often found them chatting animatedly.
+
+"When I get plenty well, we mally," Po informed her. "Maybeso go back to
+China. What you say, Missee Alice?"
+
+"I think you'd better stay with me," she countered. "As for Hang Far,
+we'll find room for her." She smiled dolefully. "I'm getting to be an
+old lady, Po Lun ... I need more help in the house."
+
+"You nebbeh get old, Missee Alice," said the sick man. "Twenty yea' I
+know you--always like li'l gi'l."
+
+"Nonsense, Po!" cried Alice. Nevertheless she was pleased. "Will you and
+Hang Far stay with me?"
+
+"I t'ink so, Missee," Po replied. "By 'n' by we take one li'l tlip fo'
+honeymoon. But plitty soon come back."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The labor movement grew and Dennis with it--both in self-importance and
+in popularity. He went about the State making speeches, threatening the
+"shoddy aristocrats who want an emperor and a standing army to shoot
+down the people."
+
+Every Sunday he harangued a crowd of his adherents on a sand-lot near
+the city hall and owing to this fact his followers were dubbed "The
+Sand-Lot Party." One day Robert, after hearing them discourse, returned
+home shaken and angry.
+
+"The man's a maniac," he told his father; "he talked of nothing but
+lynching railroad magnates and destroying their property. He wants to
+blow up the Pacific Mail docks and burn the steamers ... to drop
+dynamite from balloons on Chinatown."
+
+Young Stanley joined them, smiling, and dropped into a chair. "Whew!" he
+exclaimed, "it's been a busy day down at the office. Have you heard that
+Dennis Kearney's been arrested?"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVIII
+
+THE WOMAN REPORTER
+
+Francisco stayed for tea and chatted of events. Yes, Dennis Kearney was
+in jail and making a great hullabaloo about it. He and five of his
+lieutenants had been arrested after an enthusiastic meeting on the
+Barbary Coast.
+
+"And what's the Workingmen's Trade and Labor Union doing?" Robert asked.
+
+"Oh, muttering and threatening as usual," Francisco laughed. "They'll
+not do anything--with the memory of Coleman's 1500 pick-handles fresh in
+their minds...."
+
+"Well, I'm glad those murderous ruffians are behind the bars," said
+Alice. But Francisco took her up. "That's rather hard on them, Aunt
+Alice," he retorted. "They're only a social reaction of the times ...
+when railroad millionaires have our Legislature by the throat and land
+barons refuse to divide their great holdings and give the small farmer a
+chance.... Kearney, aside from his rant of violence, which he doesn't
+mean, is advocating much-needed reforms.... I was talking with Henry
+George today...."
+
+"He's the new city gas and water inspector, isn't he?" asked Benito.
+"They tell me he's writing a book."
+
+"Yes, 'Progress and Poverty.' George believes the single tax will cure
+all social wrongs. But Jean...." He hesitated, flushing.
+
+"Jean?" His aunt was quick to sense a mystery. "Who is Jean?"
+
+"Oh, she's the new woman reporter," said Francisco hastily. He rose,
+"Well, I'll be going now."
+
+His aunt looked after him in silent speculation. "So!" she spoke half
+to herself. "Jean's the woman reporter." And for some occult reason
+she smiled.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Robert saw them together some days later, talking very earnestly as they
+walked through "Pauper Alley." Such was the title bestowed upon
+Leidesdorff street between California and Pine streets, where the
+"mudhens"--those bedraggled, wretched women speculators who still waited
+hungrily for scanty crumbs from Fortune's table--chatted with
+broken-down and shabby men in endless reminiscent gabble of great
+fortunes they had "almost won."
+
+"Miss Norwall's going to do some 'human interest sketches,' as they call
+'em," Francisco explained as he introduced his cousin. "Our editor
+believes in a 'literary touch' for the paper. Something rather new."
+
+Jean Norwall held out her hand. She was an attractive, bright-eyed girl
+in her early twenties, with a searching, friendly look, as though life
+were full of surprises which she was eager to probe. "So you are
+Robert," she remarked. "Francisco's talked a lot about you."
+
+"That was good of him," the young man answered. "He's talked a deal of
+you as well, Miss Norwall."
+
+"Oh, indeed!"' She reddened slightly. "Well, we must be getting on."
+
+Robert raised his hat and watched them disappear around the corner.
+There was a vaguely lonesome feeling somewhere in the region of his
+heart. He went on past the entrance of the San Francisco Stock Exchange
+and almost collided with a bent-over, shrewd-faced man, whose eagle-beak
+and penetrating eyes were a familiar sight along California street.
+
+He was E.J. (better known as "Lucky") Baldwin, who had started the
+Pacific Stock Exchange.
+
+Baldwin had a great ranch in the South, where he bred blooded horses.
+He owned the Baldwin theater and the Baldwin Hotel, which rivaled the
+Palace. Women, racing and stocks were his hobbies. Benito had done some
+legal work for Baldwin and Robert knew him casually. Rather to his
+surprise Baldwin stopped, laid a hand on the young man's shoulder.
+
+"Hello, lad," he greeted; "want a tip on the stock market?"
+
+Tips from "Lucky" were worth their weight in gold. Robert was
+astonished. "Why--yes, thank you, sir," he stammered.
+
+"Well, don't play it ... that's the best tip in the world." The operator
+walked off chuckling.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Robert continued his walk along Montgomery street to Market, where he
+turned westward. It was Saturday and his father's office, where he was
+now studying law, had been closed since noon. It had become a
+custom--almost an unwritten law--to promenade San Francisco's lordly
+thoroughfare on the last afternoon of the week, especially the northern
+side. For Market street was now a social barrier. South of it were
+smaller, meaner shops, saloons, beer-swilling "cafe chantants,"
+workmen's eating houses and the like, with, of course, the notable
+exceptions of the Grand and Palace Hotels.
+
+On the northern side were the gay haberdasheries, millinery stores,
+cafes and various business marts, where fashionable San Francisco
+shopped. Where men with top hats, walking sticks and lavender silk
+waistcoats ogled the feminine fashion parade.
+
+As he passed the Baldwin Hotel with its broadside of bow-windows, Robert
+became aware of some disturbance. A large dray drawn by four horses,
+plumed and flower garlanded, was wending a triumphal course up Market
+street. A man stood in the center of it waving his hat--a stocky fellow
+in soiled trousers and an old gray sweater. Shouts of welcome hailed him
+as the dray rolled on; most of them came from the opposite or
+southern side.
+
+"It's Dennis Kearney," said a man near Robert. "He and his gang were
+released from custody today.... Now we'll have more trouble."
+
+Robert followed the dray expectantly. But Kearney made no overt
+demonstration. He seemed much subdued by his fortnight in jail.
+
+The swift California dusk was falling. The afternoon was gone. And
+Robert, realizing that it was past the dinner hour at his home, decided
+to find his evening meal at a restaurant. One of these, with a display
+of shell-fish grouped about a miniature fountain in its window,
+confronted him ere long and he entered a rococo interior of mirrored
+walls. What caught his fancy more than the ornate furnishings, however,
+was a very pretty girl sitting within a cashier's cage of iron
+grill-work.
+
+It happened that she was smiling as he glanced her way. She had golden
+hair with a hint of red in it, a dainty oval face, like his mother's;
+eyes that were friendly and eager with youth. Robert smiled back at her
+involuntarily.
+
+The smile still lingered as a man came forward to adjust his score. A
+keen, dynamic-looking man of middle years and an imposing presence.
+Robert watched him just a little envious of his assured manner as he
+threw down a gold-piece. While the fair cashier was making change he
+grinned at her. "How's my little girl tonight?" Reaching through the
+aperture, he chucked her suddenly beneath the chin. Tears of
+mortification sprang into her eyes. Impulsively Robert stepped forward,
+crowding the other aside none too gently.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he was breathless, half astounded by his own
+temerity. "But--can I be of any--ah--service?"
+
+"Puppy!" stormed the elder man and stalked out haughtily. The girl's
+eyes encountered Robert's, shining, grateful for an instant. Then they
+fell. Her face grew grave. "You shouldn't have ... really.... That was
+Isaac J. Kalloch."
+
+"Oh, the preacher that's running for Mayor," Robert's tone was abashed.
+"But I don't care," he added, "I'm glad I did."
+
+Once again the girl's eyes met his, shyly. "So am I," she whispered.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIX
+
+A NEW GENERATION
+
+Isaac S. Kalloch was the labor candidate for mayor. People said he was
+the greatest pulpit orator in San Francisco since Starr King. His Sunday
+sermons at the Metropolitan Temple were crowded; as a campaign orator he
+drew great throngs.
+
+Robert's dislike for the man was mitigated by a queer involuntary
+gratitude. Without that bit of paternal familiarity, which had goaded
+the young lawyer to impulsive protective championship, he and Maizie
+Carter, the little golden-haired cashier, might have found the road to
+comradeship much longer.
+
+For comrades they had become almost at once. At least so they fondly
+fancied. Robert's mother wondered why he missed so many meals from home.
+The rococo restaurant gained a steady customer. And the host of
+cavaliers who lingered in the hope of seeing Maizie home each evening
+diminished to one. He was often invited into the vine-clad cottage at
+the top of Powell street hill. Sometimes he sat with Maizie on a
+haircloth sofa and looked at Mrs. Carter's autograph album. It contained
+some great names that were now no longer written. James Lick, David
+Broderick, Colonel E.D. Baker and the still lamented Ralston, of whom
+Maizie's mother never tired of talking. He, it seems, was wont to give
+her tips on mining stocks. Acting on them, she had once amassed $10,000.
+
+"But I lost it all after the poor, dear man passed away," she would say,
+with a tear in her eye. "Once that fellow Mills--I hate his fishy
+eyes!--looked straight at me and said, 'See the poor old mud-hen'!"
+
+She began to weep softly. Maizie sprang to comfort her, stroking the
+stringy gray hair with tender, youthful fingers. "Mother quit the market
+after that. She hasn't been near Pauper Alley for a year ... not since
+I've been working at the Mineral Cafe. And we've three hundred dollars
+in the bank."
+
+"Ah, yes," said the mother, fondly. "Maizie's a brave girl and a thrifty
+one. We're comfortable--and independent, even though the rich grind down
+the poor." Her eyes lighted. "Wait till Kalloch is elected ... then
+we'll see better times, I'll warrant."
+
+Robert was too courteous to express his doubts.
+
+Later he discussed the situation with Francisco. His paper had printed
+an "expose" of Kalloch, who struck back with bitter personal
+denunciation of his editorial foes. "It's a nasty mess," Francisco said
+disgustedly.
+
+"Broderick used to tell my father that politics had always been a
+rascal's paradise because decent men wouldn't run for office--nor vote
+half of the time.... I'm going to write an article about it for The
+Overland. And Pixley of the Argonaut has given me a chance to do some
+stories. I shall be an author pretty soon--like Harte and Clemens."
+
+"Or a poet like this Cincinnatus Heinie Miller, whom one hears about.
+Fancy such a name. I should think he'd change it."
+
+"He has already," laughed Francisco. "Calls himself Joaquin--after
+Marietta, the bandit. Joaquin Miller--rather catchy, isn't it? And he's
+written some really fine lines. Showed me one the other day that's
+called 'Columbus.' It's majestic. I tell you that fellow will be
+famous one day."
+
+"Pooh!" scoffed Robert; "he's a poseur--ought to be an actor, with his
+long hair and boots and sash.... How is the fair Jeanne?"
+
+Francisco's face clouded. "I want her to leave newspaper work and try
+literature," he said, "but Jeanne's afraid to cut loose. She's earning
+her living ... and she's alone in the world. No one to fall back on,
+you know."
+
+"But she'd make more money at real writing, wouldn't she?" asked Robert.
+"Ever since Harte wrote that thing about 'The Luck of Roaring Camp,'
+which the lady proofreader said was indecent, he's had offers from the
+Eastern magazines. John Carmony's paying him $5,000 a year to edit the
+Overland and $100 for each poem or story he writes."
+
+"Ah, yes, but Bret Harte is a genius."
+
+"Maybe Jeanne's another," Robert ventured.
+
+Francisco laughed ruefully. "I've told her that ... but she says no....
+'I'm just a woman,' she insists, 'and not a very bright one at that.'
+She has all kinds of faith in me, but little in herself." He made an
+impatient gesture. "What can a fellow do?"
+
+Robert looked at him a moment thoughtfully. "Why not--marry Jeanne?"
+
+Dull red crept into Francisco's cheeks. Then he laughed.
+"Well--er--probably she wouldn't have me."
+
+"There's only one way to find out," his cousin persisted. "She's alone
+... and you're soon going to be. When do your folks start on their
+'second honeymoon,' as they call it?"
+
+"Oh, that trip around the world--why, in a month or two. As soon as
+father closes out his business."
+
+"You could have the house then--you and Jeanne."
+
+"Say!" exclaimed Francisco suddenly, "you're such a Jim Dandy to manage
+love affairs! Why don't you get married yourself?"
+
+It was Robert's turn to flush. "I'm quite willing," he said shortly.
+
+"Won't she have you?" asked his cousin sympathetically.
+
+"'Tisn't that ... it's her mother. Maizie won't leave her ... and she
+won't bring her into our home. Mrs. Carter's peculiar ... and Maizie
+says we're young. Young enough to be unselfish."
+
+"She's a fine girl," returned Francisco. "Well, good bye." He held out a
+cordial hand.
+
+"I--I'll think over what you said."
+
+"Good luck, then," Robert answered as they gripped.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Adrian Stanley was closing up his affairs. As a contractor he had
+prospered; his reclaimed city lots had realized their purchase price a
+hundred fold and his judiciously conservative investments yielded golden
+fruit. Adrian was not a plunger. But in thirty years he had accumulated
+something of a fortune.... And now they were to travel, he and Inez, for
+a year or so.
+
+He had provided, too, for Francisco. The latter, though he did not know
+it, would have $20,000 to his credit in the Bank of California. Adrian
+planned to hand his son the bank deposit book across the gang plank as
+the ship cast off. They were going first to the Sandwich Islands. Then
+on to China, India, the South Seas. Each evening, sometimes until
+midnight, they perused the illustrated travel-folders, describing
+routes, hotels, trains, steamships.
+
+"You're like a couple of children," smiled Francisco on the evening
+before their departure. He was writing a novel, in addition to the other
+work for Carmony and Pixley. Sometimes it was hard work amid this
+unusual prattle by his usually sedate and silent parents. He tried to
+imagine the house without them; his life, without their familiar and
+cherished companionship.... It would be lonely. Probably he would rent
+the place, when his novel was finished ... take lodgings down town.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXX
+
+ROBERT AND MAIZIE
+
+Francisco saw his parents to the steamer in a carriage packed with
+luggage--shiny new bags and grips which, he reflected, would one day
+return much buffeted and covered with foreign labels. He had seen such
+bags in local households. The owners were very proud of them. Shakenly
+he patted his mother's arm and told her how young she was looking,
+whereat, for some reason, she cried. Adrian coughed and turned to look
+out of the window. None of the trio spoke till they reached the dock.
+
+There Mrs. Stanley gave him many directions looking to his health and
+safety. And his father puffed ferociously at a cigar. They had expected
+Jeanne to bid them good-bye, but she no doubt was delayed, as one so
+often was in newspaper work.
+
+At last it was over. Francisco stood with the bank book in his hand, a
+lump in his throat, waving a handkerchief. The ship was departing
+rapidly. He could no longer distinguish his parents among the black
+specks at the stern of the vessel. Finally he turned, swallowing hard
+and put the bank book in his pocket. What a thoughtful chap his father
+was! How generous! And how almost girlish his mother had looked in her
+new, smart travel suit! Well, they would enjoy themselves for a year or
+two. Some day he would travel, too, and see the world. But first there
+was work to do. Work was good. And Life was filled with Opportunity. He
+thought of Jeanne.
+
+Suddenly he determined to test Robert's advice. Now, if ever, was the
+time to challenge Providence. He had in his pocket Adrian's check for
+$20,000. The Stanley home was vacant. But more than all else, Jeanne was
+being courted by a new reporter on the Chronicle--a sort of poet with
+the dashing ways that women liked. He had taken Jeanne to dinner several
+times of late.
+
+With a decisive movement Francisco entered a telephone booth. Five
+minutes later he emerged smiling. Jeanne had broken an engagement with
+the poet chap to dine with him.
+
+Later that evening he tipped an astonished French waiter with a
+gold-piece. He and Jeanne walked under a full moon until midnight.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Two months after the Stanleys' departure Francisco and Jeanne were
+married and took up their abode in the Stanley home. Francisco worked
+diligently at his novel. Now and then they had Robert and Maizie to
+dinner. Both Jeanne and Francisco had a warm place in their hearts for
+little Maizie Carter. It was perfectly plain that she loved Robert;
+sometimes her eyes were plainly envious when they fell on Jeanne in her
+gingham apron, presiding over the details of her household with, a
+bride's new joy in domestic tasks. But Maizie was a knowing little
+woman, too wise to imperil her dream of Love's completeness with a
+disturbing element like her mother, growing daily more helpless,
+querulous, dependent.
+
+And she had a fine pride, this little working girl. From Robert she
+would accept no aid, despite his growing income as the junior partner in
+his father's law firm. Benito's health had not of recent months been
+robust, and Robert found upon his shoulders more and more of the
+business of the office, which acted as trustee for several large
+estates. Robert now had his private carriage, but Maizie would not
+permit his calling thus, in state, for her at the Mineral Cafe.
+
+"It would not look well," she said, half whimsically, yet with a touch
+of gravity, "to have a famous lawyer in his splendid coach call for a
+poor little Cinderella of a cashier." And so Robert came afoot each
+night to take her home. When it was fine they walked up the steep Powell
+street hill, gazing back at the scintillant lights of the town or down
+on the moonlit bay, with its black silhouetted islands, the spars of
+great ships and the moving lights of tugboats or ferries.
+
+If it were wet they rode up on the funny little cable cars, finding a
+place, whenever possible, on the forward end, which Maizie called the
+"observation platform." As they passed the Nob Hill mansions of Hopkins,
+Stanford and Crocker, and the more modest adobe of the Fairs, Maizie
+sometimes fancied herself the chatelaine of such a castle, giving an
+almost imperceptible sigh as the car dipped over the crest of Powell
+street toward the meaner levels just below where she and her mother
+lived. Their little yard was always bright with flowers, and from the
+rear window one had a marvelous view of the water. She seldom failed to
+walk into the back room and feast her eyes on that marine panorama
+before she returned to listen to her mother's fretful maunderings over
+vanished fortunes.
+
+Tonight as they sat with Jeanne and Francisco in front of the crackling
+fire, Maizie's hunger for a home of her own and the man she loved was so
+plain that Jeanne arose impulsively and put an arm about her guest. She
+said nothing, but Maizie understood. There was a lump in her throat. "I
+should not think such things," she told herself. "I am selfish ...
+unfilial."
+
+Robert was talking. She smiled at him bravely and listened. "Mother's
+planning to go East," she heard him say. "She's always wanted to, and as
+she grows older it's almost an obsession. So father's finally decided to
+go, too, and let me run the business ... I'll be an orphan soon, like
+you, Francisco."
+
+"Oh," said Maizie. "Do you mean that you'll be all alone?"
+
+Robert smiled, "Quite.... Po Lun and Hang Far plan a trip to China ...
+want to see their parents before they die. The Chinese are great for
+honoring their forebears.... Sometimes I think," he added, whimsically,
+"that Maizie is partly Chinese."
+
+The girl flushed. Jeanne made haste to change the subject. "How is your
+friend, Dennis Kearney?" she asked Francisco.
+
+"Oh, he's left the agitator business ... he's a grain broker now. But
+Dennis started something. Capital is a little more willing to listen to
+labor. And Chinese immigration will be restricted, perhaps stopped
+altogether. The Geary Exclusion Act is before Congress now, and more or
+less certain to pass."
+
+"He's a strange fellow," said Jeanne, reminiscently. "I wonder if he
+still hates everyone who disagrees with him. Loring Pickering was one of
+his pet enemies."
+
+"Oh, Dennis is forgiving, like all Irishmen," said Robert. Impulsively
+he laid a hand on Maizie's.
+
+"Maizie is part Irish, too," he added, meaningly. The girl smiled at him
+star-eyed. For she understood.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXI
+
+THE BLIND BOSS
+
+Francisco met the erstwhile agitator on the street one day. He had made
+his peace with many former foes, including Pickering."
+
+"Politics is a rotten game, me b'y," he said, by way of explanation.
+"And I've a family, two little girruls at home. I want thim to remimber
+their father as something besides a blatherskite phin they grow up. So
+I'm in a rispictible business again.... There's a new boss now, bad cess
+to him! Chris Buckley.
+
+"Him your Chinese friends call 'The Blind White Devil?' Yes, I've heard
+of Chris."
+
+"He keeps a saloon wid a gossoon name o' Fallon, on Bush street.... Go
+up and see him, Misther Stanley.... He's a fair-speakin' felly I'm
+told.... Ask him," Dennis whispered, nudging the writer's ribs with his
+elbow, "ask him how his gambling place in Platt's Hall is coming on?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Several days later Francisco entered the unpretentious establishment of
+Christopher Buckley. He found it more like an office than a drinking
+place; people sat about, apparently waiting their turn for an interview
+with Buckley.
+
+A small man, soft of tread and with a searching glance, asked Stanley's
+business and, learning that the young man was a writer for the press,
+blinked rapidly a few times; then he scuttled off, returning ere long
+with the information that Buckley would "see Mr. Stanley." Soon he found
+himself facing a pleasant-looking man of medium height, a moustache,
+wiry hair tinged with gray, a vailed expression of the eyes, which
+indicated some abnormality of vision, but did not reveal the almost
+total blindness with which early excesses had afflicted
+Christopher Buckley.
+
+"Sit down, my friend," spoke the boss. His tone held a crisp cordiality,
+searching and professionally genial. "What d'ye want ... a story?"
+
+"Yes," said Stanley.
+
+"About the election?"
+
+Stanley hesitated. "Tell me about the gambling concession at Platt's
+Hall," he said suddenly.
+
+Buckley's manner changed. It became, if anything, more cordial.
+
+"My boy," his tone was low, "you're wasting time as a reporter. Listen,"
+he laid a hand upon Francisco's knee. "I've got a job for you.... The
+new Mayor will need a secretary ... three hundred a month. And extras!"
+
+"What are they?" asked Francisco curiously.
+
+"Lord! I don't have to explain that to a bright young man like you....
+People coming to the Mayor for favors. They're appreciative ...
+understand?"
+
+"Well," Francisco seemed to hesitate, "let me think it over.... Can I
+let you know," he smiled, "tomorrow?"
+
+Buckley nodded as Francisco rose. As soon as the latter's back was
+turned the little sharp-eyed man came trotting to his master's call.
+"Follow him. Find out what's his game," he snapped. The little man sped
+swiftly after. Buckley made another signal. The top-hatted
+representative of railway interests approached.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Francisco stopped at Robert's office on his way home. Windham had moved
+into one of the new buildings, with an elevator, on Kearney street. In
+his private office was a telephone, one of those new instruments for
+talking over a wire which still excited curiosity, though they were
+being rapidly installed by the Pacific Bell Company. Hotels,
+newspapers, the police and fire departments were equipped with them,
+but private subscribers were few, Francisco had noticed one of the
+instruments in Buckley's saloon.
+
+Robert had not returned from court, but was momentarily expected. His
+amanuensis ushered Francisco into the private office. He sat down and
+picked up a newspaper, glancing idly over the news.
+
+A bell tinkled somewhere close at hand. It must be the telephone. Rather
+gingerly, for he had never handled one before, Francisco picked up the
+receiver, put it to his ear. It was a man's voice insisting that a
+probate case be settled. Francisco tried to make him understand that
+Robert was out. But the voice went on. Apparently the transmitting
+apparatus was defective. Francisco could not interrupt the flow
+of words.
+
+"See Buckley.... He has all the judges under his thumb. Pay him what he
+asks. We must have a settlement at once."
+
+Francisco put back the receiver. So Buckley controlled the courts as
+well. He would be difficult to expose. The little plan for getting
+evidence with Robert's aid did not appear so simple now.
+
+Francisco waited half an hour longer, fidgeting about the office. Then
+he decided that Robert had gone for the day and went out. At the corner
+of Powell street he bumped rather unceremoniously into a tall figure,
+top-hatted, long-coated, carrying a stick.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he apologized. "Oh--why it's Mr. Pickering."
+
+"Where are you bound so--impetuously?"
+
+"Home," smiled Stanley. "Jeanne and I are going to the show tonight." He
+was about to pass on when a thought struck him. "Got a minute to spare,
+Mr. Pickering?"
+
+"Always to you, my boy," returned the editor of the Bulletin, with his
+old-fashioned courtesy.
+
+[Illustration: "My boy ... you're wasting your time as a reporter.
+Listen," he laid a hand upon Francisco's knee. "I've a job for you....
+The new Mayor will need a secretary."]
+
+"Then, come into the Baldwin Cafe.... I want to tell you something."
+
+In an unoccupied corner, over a couple of glasses, Francisco unfolded
+his plan. He was somewhat abashed by Pickering's expression. "Very
+clever, Stanley ... but quite useless. It's been tried before. You'd
+better have taken the job, accumulated evidence; then turned it over to
+us. That would be the way to trap him ... but it's probably too late.
+Ten to one his sleuth has seen us together. Buckley's very--bright,
+you know."
+
+He put a hand kindly on the crestfallen young man's shoulder.... "Go
+back tomorrow and see if he'll make you secretary to the Mayor. Then get
+all the 'extras' you can. Label each and bring it to me. I'll see that
+you're not misunderstood." He rose. "But I fear Buckley will withdraw
+his offer ... if so, we'll print the story of his Platt's Hall
+gambling house."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXII
+
+FATE TAKES A HAND
+
+Francisco found that Pickering's prophecy had been a true one. On a
+subsequent visit to the Bush street saloon he found the Blind Boss
+unapproachable. After waiting almost an hour and seeing several men who
+had come after him, led to the rear room for a conference, word was
+brought him by the little, keen-eyed man that the position of Mayor's
+secretary was already filled. He was exceedingly polite, expressing "Mr.
+Buckley's deep regret," about the matter. But there was in his eye a
+furtive mockery, in his tight-lipped mouth a covert sneer.
+
+Francisco went directly to the office of The Bulletin, relating his
+experience to the veteran editor. "I supposed as much," said Pickering.
+He tapped speculatively on the desk with his pencil. "What's more, I
+think there's little to be done at present. Printing the story of
+Platt's Hall will only be construed as a bit of political recrimination.
+San Francisco rather fancies gambling palaces."
+
+"Jack!" he called to a reporter. "See if you can locate Jerry Lynch." He
+turned to Stanley. "There's the fellow for you: Senator Jeremiah Lynch.
+Know him? Good. You get evidence on Buckley. Consult with Lynch
+concerning politics. He'll tell you ways to checkmate Chris you wouldn't
+dream of...."
+
+Pickering smiled and picked up a sheet of manuscript. Francisco took the
+hint. From that day he camped on Buckley's trail. Bit by bit he gathered
+proofs, some documentary, some testimonial. No single item was of great
+importance. But, as a whole, Robert had assured him, it was weaving a
+net in which the blind boss might one day find himself entrapped.
+Perhaps he felt its meshes now and then. For overtures were made to
+Stanley. He was offered the position of secretary to Mayor Pond, but he
+declined it. Word reached him of other opportunities; tips on the stock
+market, the races; he ignored them and went on.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+One night his house was broken into and his desk ransacked most
+thoroughly. Twice he was set upon at night, his pockets rifled. Threats
+came to him of personal violence. Finally the blind boss sent for him.
+
+"Is there anything you want--that I can give you?" Buckley minced no
+words.
+
+Stanley shook his head. Then, remembering Buckley's blindness, he said
+"No."
+
+Buckley took a few short paces up and down the room, then added: "I'll
+talk plain to you, my friend--because you're smart; too smart to be a
+catspaw for an editor and a politician who hate me. Let me tell you
+this, you'll do no good by keeping on." He spun about suddenly,
+threateningly, "You've a wife, haven't you?"
+
+"We'll not discuss that, Mr. Buckley," said Francisco stiffly.
+
+"Nevertheless it's true ... and children?"
+
+"N-not yet," said Francisco in spite of himself.
+
+"Oh, I see. Well, that's to be considered.... It's not what you'd call a
+time for taking chances, brother."
+
+"What d'ye mean?" Francisco was a trifle startled.
+
+"Nothing; nothing!" said the blind boss unctuously. "Think it over....
+And remember, I'm your friend. If there's anything you wish, come to me
+for it. Otherwise--"
+
+Stanley looked at him inquiringly, but did not speak. Nor did Buckley
+close his sentence. It was left suspended like the Damoclesian blade.
+Francisco went straight home and found Jeanne busied with her needle and
+some tiny garments, which of late had occupied her days. He was rather
+silent while they dined, a bit uneasy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Francisco usually went down town for lunch. There was a smart club
+called the Bohemian, where one met artists, actors, writers. Among them
+were young Keith, the landscape painter, who gave promise of a vogue;
+Charley Stoddard, big and bearded; they called him an etcher with words;
+and there were Prentice Mulford, the mystic; David Belasco of the
+Columbia Theater. Francisco got into his street clothes, kissed Jeanne
+and went out. It was a bright, scintillant day. He strode along
+whistling.
+
+At the club he greeted gaily those who sat about the room. Instead of
+answering, they ceased their talk and stared at him. Presently Stoddard
+advanced, looking very uncomfortable.
+
+"Let's go over there and have a drink," he indicated a secluded corner.
+"I want a chat with you."
+
+"Oh, all right," said Francisco. He followed Stoddard, still softly
+whistling the tune which had, somehow, caught his fancy. They sat down,
+Charley Stoddard looking preternaturally grave.
+
+"Well, my boy," Francisco spoke, "what's troubling you?"
+
+"Oh--ah--" said the other, "heard from your folks lately, Francisco?"
+
+"Yes, they're homeward bound. Ought to be off Newfoundland by now."
+
+The drinks came. Stanley raised his glass, drank, smiling. Stoddard
+followed, but he did not smile. "Can you bear a shock, old chap?" He
+blurted. "I--they--dammit man--the ship's been wrecked."
+
+Francisco set his glass down quickly. He was white. "The--The
+Raratonga?"
+
+Stoddard nodded. There was silence. Then, "Was any-body--drowned?"
+
+Stanley did not need an answer. It was written large in Stoddard's
+grief-wrung face. He got up, made his way unsteadily to the door. A page
+came running after with his hat and stick and he took them absently.
+Nearby was a newspaper office, crowds about it, bulletins announcing the
+Raratonga's total destruction with all on board.
+
+Francisco began to walk rapidly, without a definite sense of direction.
+He found relief in that. The trade-wind was sharp in his face and he
+pulled his soft hat down over his eyes. Presently he found himself in an
+unfamiliar locality--the water-front--amid a bustling rough-spoken
+current of humanity that eddied forward and back. There were many
+sailors. From the doors of innumerable saloons came the blare of
+orchestrions; now and then a drunken song.
+
+Entering one of the swinging doors, Francisco called for whisky. He felt
+suddenly a need for stimulant. The men at the long counter looked at him
+curiously. He was not of their kind. A little sharp-eyed man who was
+playing solitaire at a table farther back, looked up interested. He
+pulled excitedly at his chin, rose and signed to a white-coated
+servitor. They had their heads together.
+
+It was almost noon the following day when Chief Mate Chatters of the
+whaleship Greenland, en route for Behring Sea, went into the forecastle
+to appraise some members of a crew hastily and informally shipped.
+"Shanghaiing," it was called. But one had to have men. One paid the
+waterfront "crimps" a certain sum and asked no questions.
+
+"Who the devil's this?" He indicated a man sprawled in one of the bunks,
+who, despite a stubble of beard and ill-fitting sea clothes, was
+unmistakably a gentleman.
+
+"Don't know--rum sort for a sailor. Got knocked on the head in a
+scrimmage. Cawnt remember nothing but his name, Francisco."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXIII
+
+THE RETURN
+
+In the fall of 1898 a man of middle years walked slowly down the stairs
+which plunged a traveler from the new Ferry building's upper floor into
+the maelstrom of Market street's beginning. Cable cars were whirling on
+turn-tables, newsboys shouted afternoon editions; hack drivers, flower
+vendors, train announcers added their babel of strident-toned outcries
+to the clanging of gongs, the clatter of wheels and hoofs upon
+cobblestone streets. Ferry sirens screamed; an engine of the Belt Line
+Railroad chugged fiercely as it pulled a train of freight cars toward
+the southern docks.
+
+The stranger paused, apparently bewildered by this turmoil.
+
+He was a stalwart, rather handsome man, bearded and bronzed as if
+through long exposure. And in his walk there was a suggestion of that
+rolling gait which smacks of maritime pursuits. He proceeded aimlessly
+up Market street, gazing round him, still with that odd, half-doubting
+and half-troubled manner. In front of the Palace Hotel he paused, seemed
+about to enter, but went on. He halted once again at Third street,
+surveying a tall brick building with a clock tower.
+
+"What place is that?" he queried of a bystander.
+
+"That? Why, the Chronicle building."
+
+The stranger was silent for a moment. Then he said, in a curious,
+detached tone, "I thought it was at Bush and Kearney."
+
+"Oh, not for eight years," said the other. "Did you live here,
+formerly?"
+
+"I? No." He spoke evasively and hurried on. "I wonder what made me say
+that?" he mumbled to himself.
+
+Down Kearney street he walked. Now and then his eyes lit as if with some
+half-formed memory and he made queer, futile gestures with his hands.
+Before a stairway leading to an upper floor, he stopped, and, with the
+dreamy, passive air of a somnambulist, ascended, entering through
+swinging doors a large, pleasant room, tapestried, ornamented with
+paintings and statuary. Half a dozen men lounging in large leathern
+chairs glanced up and away with polite unrecognition. The stranger was
+made aware of a boy in a much-buttoned uniform holding a silver tray.
+
+"Who do you wish to see, sir?"
+
+"Oh--ah--" spoke the stranger, "this is the Bohemian Club, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes, sir. Shall I call the house manager, sir?"
+
+At the other's nod he vanished to return with a spectacled man who
+looked inquiring.
+
+"I beg your pardon--for intruding," said the bearded man slowly. "But--I
+couldn't help it.... I was once a member here."
+
+"Indeed?" said the spectacled man, tentatively cordial, still inquiring.
+"And you're name--"
+
+From the bearded lips there came a gutteral sound--as if speech had
+failed him. He gazed at the spectacled personage helplessly. "I--don't
+know." Sudden weakness seemed to seize him. Still with the helpless
+expression in his eyes, he retreated, found a chair and sank into it. He
+passed a hand feverishly before his eyes.
+
+The spectacled man acted promptly.
+
+"Garrison, you're one of the ancients round this club," he addressed a
+smiling, gray-haired man of plump and jovial mien. "Come and talk to the
+Mysterious Stranger.... Says he was a member ten or fifteen years
+ago.... Can't recollect who he is."
+
+"What do you wish me to do?" asked Garrison.
+
+"Pretend to recognize him. Talk to him about the Eighties.... Get him
+oriented. It's plainly a case of amnesia."
+
+He watched Garrison approach the bearded man with outstretched hand; saw
+the other take it, half reluctantly. The two retired to an alcove, had a
+drink and soon were deep in conversation. The stranger seemed to unfold
+at this touch of friendliness. They heard him laugh. Another drink was
+ordered. After half an hour Garrison returned. He seemed excited. "Hold
+him there till I return," he urged. "I'm going to a newspaper office to
+look at some files."
+
+Fifteen minutes later he was back. "Come," he said, "I've got a cab ...
+want you to meet a friend of mine." He took the still-dazed stranger's
+arm. They went out, entered a carriage and were driven off. As they
+passed the City Hall the stranger said, as though astonished. "Why--it's
+finished, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes, at last," Garrison smiled. "Even Buckley couldn't hold it back
+forever."
+
+"Buckley ... he's the one who promised me a job, Is Pond the Mayor now?"
+
+"No," returned the other. "Phelan." As he spoke the carriage stopped
+before a rather ornate dwelling, somewhat out of place amid surrounding
+offices and shops. The stranger started violently as they approached it.
+Again the gutteral sound came from his lips.
+
+The door opened and a woman appeared; a woman tall, sad-faced and
+eager-eyed. Beside her was a lad as tall as she. They stared at the
+bearded stranger, the boy wide-eyed and curious; the woman with a
+piercing, concentrated hope that fears defeat.
+
+The man took a stumbling step forward. "Jeanne!" He halted half abashed.
+But the woman sobbing, ran to him and put her arms about his neck. For
+an instant he stood, stiffly awkward, his face very red. Then something
+snapped the shackles of his prisoned memory. A cry burst from him,
+inarticulately joyous. His arms went round her.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It required weeks for Stanley to recover all his memories. It was a new
+world; Jeanne the one connecting link between the present and that still
+half-shadowy past from which he had been cast by some unceremonial jest
+of Fate into a strange existence. From the witless, nameless unit of a
+whaler's crew he had at last arisen to a fresh identity. Frank Starbird,
+they christened him, he knew not why. And when they found that he had
+clerical attainments, the captain, who was really a decent fellow, had
+befriended him; found him a berth in a store at Sitka.... Since then he
+had roamed up and down the world, mostly as purser of ships, forever
+haunted by the memory of some previous identity he could not fathom. He
+had been to Russia, India, Europe's seaports, landing finally at
+Baltimore. Thence some mastering impulse took him Westward. And here he
+was again, Francisco Stanley.
+
+It was difficult to realize that fifteen years had flown. Jeanne seemed
+so little older. But the tall young son was startling evidence of Time's
+passage. Stanley used to sit gazing at him silently during those first
+few days, as though trying to drink in the stupendous fact of his
+existence. Old friends called to hear his adventures; he was given a
+dinner at the club where he learned, with some surprise, that he was not
+unfamous as an author. Jeanne had finished his book and found a
+publisher. Between the advertisement of his mysterious disappearance and
+its real merits, the volume had a vogue.
+
+Robert had married Maizie after her mother's death. They lived in the
+Windham house in Old South Park, for Benito and Alice had never returned
+from the East. Po Lun and Hang Far had gone to China.
+
+Slowly life resumed its formed status for Francisco.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXIV
+
+THE "REFORMER"
+
+Francisco loved to wander round the town, explore its nooks and corners
+and make himself, for the time being, a part of his surroundings. A
+smattering of European languages aided him in this. He rubbed elbows
+with coatless workmen in French, Swiss, Spanish and Italian "pensions,"
+sitting at long tables and breaking black bread into red wine. He drank
+black coffee and ate cloying sweetmeats in Greek or Turkish cafes;
+hobnobbed with Sicilian fishermen, helping them to dry their nets and
+sometimes accompanying them in their feluccas into rough seas beyond the
+Heads. Now and then he invaded Chinatown and ate in their underground
+restaurants, disdaining the "chop suey" and sweets invariably served to
+tourists for the more palatable and engaging viands he had learned to
+like and name in Shanghai and Canton. Fortunately, he could afford to
+indulge his bent, for the value of his inheritance had increased
+extraordinarily in the past decade. Stanley's income was more than
+sufficient to insure a life of leisure.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At Market and Fourth streets stood a large and rather nondescript gray
+structure built by Flood, the Comstock millionaire. It had served for
+varied purposes, but now it housed the Palais Royal, an immense saloon
+and gambling rendezvous. In the massive, barn-like room, tile-floored
+and picture-ornamented, were close to a hundred tables where men of all
+descriptions drank, played cards and talked. Farther to the rear were
+private compartments, from which came the incessant click of
+poker chips.
+
+Francisco and Robert sometimes lunched at the Palais Royal. The former
+liked its color and the vital energy he always found there. Robert "sat
+in" now and then at poker. He had a little of his father's love for
+Chance, but a restraining sanity left him little the loser in the long
+run. Robert had three children, the eldest a girl of twelve. Petite and
+dainty Maizie had become a plump and bustling mother-hen.
+
+It was in the Palais Royal that Francisco met Abraham Ruef, a dapper and
+engaging gentleman of excellent address, greatly interested in politics.
+He was a graduate of the State University, where he had specialized in
+political economy.
+
+Francisco liked him, and they often sat for long discussions of the
+local situation after lunching at the Palais Royal. Ruef, in a small
+way, was a rival of Colonel Dan Burns, the Republican boss. Burns, they
+said, was jealous of Ruef's reform activites.
+
+"If one could get the laboring class together," Ruef told Stanley, "one
+could wield a mighty power. Some day, perhaps, I shall do it. The
+laborer is a giant, unconscious of his strength. He submits to Capital's
+oppression, unwitting of his own capacity to rule. For years we've had
+nothing but strikes, which have only strengthened employers."
+
+"Yes, they're always broken," said Francisco.
+
+"The strike is futile. Organization--political unity; that's the thing."
+
+"A labor party, eh?" Francisco spoke, a trifle dubiously.
+
+"Yes, but not the usual kind. It must be done right." His eyes shone.
+"Ah, I can see it all so plainly. If I could make it clear to others--"
+
+"Why don't you try?" asked Stanley.
+
+But Ruef shook his head. "I lack the 'presence.' Do you know what I
+mean? No matter how smart I may be, they see in me only a small man. So
+they think I have small ideas. That is human nature. And they say,
+'He's a Jew.' Which is another drawback."
+
+He was silent a moment. "I have thought it all out.... I must borrow the
+'presence.'"
+
+"What do you mean?" Francisco was startled.
+
+"We shall see," Ruef responded. "Perhaps I shall find me a man--big,
+strong, impressive--with a mind easily led.... Then I shall train him to
+be a leader. I shall furnish the brain."
+
+"What a curious thought!" said Francisco. Ruef, smiling, shook his head.
+"It is not new at all," he said. "If you read political history you will
+soon discover that."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Francisco worked at his novel. Word came of Alice Windham's death in
+Massachusetts. Robert urged his father to return to San Francisco, but
+Benito sought forgetfulness in European travel.
+
+Frank had finished high school; was a cub reporter on The Bulletin.
+Pickering was dead; his widow and her brother, R.A. Crothers, had taken
+over the evening paper; John D. Spreckels, sugar nabob, now
+controlled the Call.
+
+Newspaper policies were somewhat uncertain in these days of economic
+unrest. Strike succeeded strike, and with each there came a greater show
+of violence. Lines were more sharply drawn. Labor and capital organized
+for self-protection and offense.
+
+"I hear that Governor Gage is coming down to settle the teamsters'
+strike," said Francisco to his son as they lunched together one sultry
+October day in 1901. "I can't understand why he's delayed until now."
+
+"Probably wanted to keep out of it as long as possible," responded
+Frank. "There are strong political forces on each side ... but the story
+goes that Colonel 'Montezuma' Burns is jealous of Ruef's overtures to
+workingmen. So he's ordered the Governor to make a grandstand play."
+
+[Illustration: "Perhaps I shall find me a man--big, strong,
+impressive--with a mind easily led.... Then I shall train him to be a
+leader. I shall furnish the brain."]
+
+Stanley looked at his son in astonishment. He was not yet nineteen and
+he talked like a veteran of forty. Francisco wondered if these were his
+own deductions or mere parroted gossip of the office.
+
+Later that afternoon he met Robert and told him of Frank's comment.
+Robert thought the situation over ere he answered.
+
+"The employing class is fearful," he said. "They've controlled things so
+long they don't know what may happen if they lose the reins. It's plain
+that Phelan can't be re-elected. And it's true that if the labor men
+effect a real organization they may name the next Mayor. Rather a
+disturbing situation."
+
+"Have you heard any talk about a man named Schmitz? A labor candidate?"
+
+"Yes, I think I have. The chap's a fiddler in a theater orchestra. Big,
+fine looking. But I can't imagine that he has the brains to make a
+winning fight."
+
+"Big! Fine looking! Hm!" repeated Stanley.
+
+"Meaning--what?" asked Robert.
+
+"Nothing much.... I just remembered something Ruef was telling me." He
+walked on thoughtfully. "Might be a story there for the boy's paper," he
+cogitated.
+
+Ruef's offices were at the corner of Kearney and California streets.
+Thither, with some half-formed mission in his mind, Francisco took his
+way. A saturnine man took him up in a little box-like elevator, pointing
+out a door inscribed:
+
+     A. RUEF,
+     Att'y-at-Law.
+
+The reception-room was filled. Half a dozen men and two women sat in
+chairs which lined the walls. A businesslike young man inquired
+Francisco's errand. "You'll have to wait your turn," he said. "I can't
+go in there now ... he's in conference with Mr. Schmitz."
+
+Francisco decided not to wait. After all, he had learned what he came
+for.
+
+Abe Ruef had borrowed a "presence."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXV
+
+A NOCTURNAL ADVENTURE
+
+Stanley was to learn much more of Eugene Schmitz. It was in fact the
+following day that he met Ruef and the violinist at Zinkand's. Schmitz
+was a man of imposing presence. He stood over six feet high; his curly
+coal-black hair and pointed beard, his dark, luminous eyes and a certain
+dash in his manner, gave him a glamor of old-world romance. In a red cap
+and ermine-trimmed robe, he might have been Richelieu, defying the
+throne. Or, otherwise clad, the Porthos of Dumas' "Three Musketeers."
+
+Francisco could not help reflecting that Ruef had borrowed a very fine
+presence indeed.
+
+Ruef asked Francisco to his table. He talked a great deal about
+politics. Schmitz listened open-eyed; Stanley more astutely. All at once
+Ruef leaned toward Francisco.
+
+"What do you think of Mr. Schmitz--as a candidate for Mayor?" he asked.
+
+"I think," Francisco answered meaningly, "that you have chosen well."
+They rose, shook hands. To Francisco's surprise Schmitz left them. "I
+have a matinee this afternoon," he said. Ruef walked down Market street
+with Stanley.
+
+"He's leader of the Columbia orchestra.... I met him through my dealings
+with the Musicians' Union." Impulsively he grasped Francisco's arm.
+"Isn't he a wonder? I'll clean up the town with him. Watch me!"
+
+"And, are you certain you can manage this chap?"
+
+Ruef laughed a quiet little laugh of deep content. "Oh, Gene is
+absolutely plastic. Just a handsome musician. And of good, plain people.
+His father was a German band leader; his mother is Irish--Margaret
+Hogan. That will help. And he is a Native Son."
+
+Ruef babbled on. He had a great plan for combining all political
+factions--an altruistic dream of economic brotherhood. Francisco
+listened somewhat skeptically. He was not certain of the man's
+sincerity, but he admired Ruef. Of his executive ability there could
+be no doubt.
+
+Yet there was something vaguely wrong about the wondrous fitness of
+Ruef's plan. Mary Godwin Shelley's tale of "Frankenstein" came to
+Francisco's mind.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+That evening Frank said to his father, with a wink at Jeanne, "Want to
+go slumming with me tonight, father? I'm going to do my first signed
+story: 'The Night-Life of This Town'."
+
+"Do you think I ought to, Jeanne?" asked her husband whimsically. He
+glanced at his son. "This younger generation is a trifle--er--vehement
+for old fogies like me."
+
+Jeanne came over and sat on the arm of his chair. "Nonsense," she said,
+"you are just as young as ever, Francisco.... Yes, go with the boy, by
+all means. I'll run up to Maizie's for the evening. She's making a dress
+for Alice's birthday party. She will be sixteen next month."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Francisco and his son went gaily forth to see their city after dark.
+Truth to tell, the father knew more of it than the lad, who acted as
+conductor. Francisco's wanderings in search of 'local color' had
+included some nocturnal quests. However, he kept this to himself and let
+Frank do the guiding.
+
+They went, first, to a large circular building called the Olympia, at
+Eddy and Mason streets. It was the heart of what was called the
+Tenderloin, a gay and hectic region frequented by half-world folk, but
+not unknown to travelers nor to members of society, Slumming parties
+were both fashionable and frequent. Two girls were capering and
+carolling behind the footlights.
+
+"They are Darlton and Boice," explained young Stanley. "The one with the
+perpetual smile is a great favorite. She's Boice. She's got a daughter
+old as I, they say."
+
+They visited the Thalia, a basement "dive" of lower order, and returned
+to the comparative respectability of the Oberon beer hall on O'Farrell
+street, where a plump orchestra of German females played sprightly airs;
+thence back to Market street and the Midway. "Little Egypt," tiny,
+graceful, sensually pretty, performed a "danse du ventre," at the
+conclusion of a long program of crude and often ribald "turns." When
+"off-stage" the performers, mostly girls, drank with the audience in a
+tier of curtained boxes which lined the sides of the auditorium. At
+intervals the curtains parted for a moment and faces peered down. A
+drunken sailor in a forward box was tossing silver coins to a dancer.
+
+They made their exit, Francisco frankly weary and the young reporter
+bored by the unrelieved crudity of it all. A smart equipage, with
+champing horses, stood before the entrance. They paused to glance at it.
+
+"Looks like Harry Bear's carriage," Frank commented. "You know the young
+society blood who's had so many larks." He turned back. "Wait a minute,
+father, I'm going in. If Bear has a party upstairs in those boxes it'll
+make good copy."
+
+"It'll make a scandal, you mean," returned Francisco rather crisply.
+"You can't print the women's names."
+
+"Bosh!" the younger man retorted pertly. "Everyone's doing this sort of
+thing now. Come along, dad. See the fun." He caught his father's arm and
+they re-entered, taking the stairs, this time, to the boxes above. From
+one came a man's laughing banter. "That's he," Frank whispered, Hastily
+he drew his half reluctant father into a vacant box. A waiter brought
+them beer, collected half a dollar and inquired if they wanted
+"Company." Francisco shook his head.
+
+The man in the adjoining box was drunk, the girl was frightened. Their
+voices filtered plainly through the thin partition. He was urging her to
+drink and she was protesting. Finally she screamed. Stanley and his son
+sprang simultaneously to the rescue. They found a young man in an
+evening suit trying to kiss a very pretty girl.
+
+His ears were red where she had boxed them and as he turned a rather
+foolish face surprisedly toward the intruders, a scratch showed livid on
+one cheek. The girl's hair streamed disheveled by the struggle. She
+caught up, hastily, a handsome opera cloak to cover her torn corsage.
+
+"Please," she said, "get me out of here quickly.... I'll pay you well."
+Then she flushed as young Stanley stiffened. "I ... I beg your pardon."
+
+He offered her his arm and they passed from the box together. The
+befuddled swain, after a dazed interval, attempted to follow, but
+Francisco flung him back. He heard the carriage door shut with a snap,
+the clatter of iron-shod hoofs. Then he went out to look for Frank, but
+did not find him. Evidently he had gone with the lady. Francisco smiled.
+It was quite an adventure. Thoughtfully he gazed at the banners flung
+across Market street:
+
+     "VOTE FOR EUGENE SCHMITZ,
+
+     "The Workingman's Friend."
+
+That was Abraham Ruef's adventure. He wondered how each of them would
+end.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXVI
+
+POLITICS AND ROMANCE
+
+Ruef swept the field with his handsome fiddler. All "South of Market
+street" rallied to his support. The old line parties brought their
+trusty, well-oiled election machinery into play, but it availed
+them little.
+
+Robert and Francisco met one day soon after the election. "Everyone is
+laughing at our fiddler Mayor," said the former. "He's like a king
+without a court; for all the other offices were carried by Republicans
+and Democrats."
+
+Francisco smoked a moment thoughtfully. "Union Labor traded minor
+offices for Mayoralty votes, I understand. Meanwhile Ruef is building
+his machine. He has convinced the labor people that he knows the game.
+They've given him carte blanche."
+
+"And how does the big fellow take it?"
+
+"I was talking with him yesterday," Francisco answered. "Schmitz is shy
+just yet. But feels his dignity. Oh, mightily!" He laughed. "Little Abe
+will have his hands full with big 'Gene, I'm thinking."
+
+"But Ruef's not daunted by the prospect."
+
+"Heavens, no. The man has infinite self-confidence. And it's no fatuous
+egotism, either. A sort of suave, unshakable trust in himself. Abe
+Ruef's the cleverest politician San Francisco's known in many
+years--perhaps since Broderick. He makes such men as Burns and Buckley
+look like tyros--"
+
+Robert looked up quickly. "By the way, I've often wondered whether
+Buckley wasn't guilty of your disappearance. He meant you no good."
+
+"No," Francisco answered. "I've looked into that. Chris, himself, had
+no connection with it. Once he threatened me ... but I've since learned
+what he meant.... Just a little blackmail which concerned a woman.
+But--" he hesitated.
+
+Robert moved uneasily. "But--what?"
+
+"Oh, well, it didn't work. The girl he planned to use told him the
+truth." Francisco, too, seemed ill at ease. "It was so long ago ... it's
+all forgotten."
+
+"I trust so," said the other. Rather abruptly he rose. "Must be getting
+back to work."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Once a week Frank donned his evening clothes and was driven to a certain
+splendid home on Pacific Heights. Bertha Larned met him always with a
+smile--and a different gown. Each successive one seemed more splendid,
+becoming, costly. And ever the lady seemed more sweet as their intimacy
+grew. Once when Frank had stammered an enthusiastic appreciation of her
+latest gown--a wondrous thing of silk and lace that seemed to match the
+changing fires in her eyes--she said suddenly: "What a fright I must
+have looked that evening--in the Midway! And what you must have thought
+of me--in such a place!"
+
+"Do you wish to know just what I thought?" Frank asked her, reddening.
+
+"Yes." Her eyes, a little shamed, but brave, met his.
+
+"Well," he said, "you stood there with your hair all streaming and
+your--and that splendid fire in your eyes. The beauty of you struck me
+like a whip. You seemed an angel--after all the sordid sights I'd
+seen. And--"
+
+"Go on--please;" her eyes were shining.
+
+"Then--it's sort of odd--but I wanted to fight for you!"
+
+She came a little closer.
+
+"Some day, perhaps," she spoke with sudden gravity, "I may ask you to do
+that."
+
+"What? Fight for you?"
+
+Bertha nodded.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was after the Olympia had been made over into a larger Tivoli Opera
+House that Frank met Aleta Boice. She was a member of the chorus. Their
+acquaintance blossomed from propinquity, for both had a fashion of
+supping on the edge of midnight at a little restaurant, better known by
+its sobriquet of "Dusty Doughnut," than by its real name, which long ago
+had been forgotten.
+
+Frank had formed the habit of sitting at a small table somewhat isolated
+from the others where now and then he wrote an article or editorial.
+Hitherto it had unvaryingly been at his disposal, for the hour of
+Frank's reflection was not a busy one. Therefore he was just a mite
+annoyed to find his table tenanted by a woman. Perhaps his irritation
+was apparent; or, perchance, Aleta had a knack for reading faces, for
+she colored.
+
+"I--I beg your pardon. Have I got your place?"
+
+"N-no," protested Frank. "I sit here often ... that's no matter."
+
+"Well," she said; "don't let me drive you off. I'll not be
+comfortable.... Let's share it, then," she smiled; "tonight, at least."
+
+They did. Frank found her very like her mother--the smiling one of
+Darlton and Boice, Olympia entertainers of past years. One couldn't call
+her pretty, when her face was in repose. But that was seldom, so it
+didn't matter. Her smile was like a spring, a fountain of perennial good
+nature. And her eyes were trusting, like a child's. Frank often wondered
+how she had maintained that look of eager innocence amid the life
+she lived.
+
+Frank learned much of her past. She could barely remember the father,
+who was a circus acrobat and had been killed by a fall from a trapeze.
+Her mother had retired from the stage; she was doing needlework for the
+department stores and the Woman's Exchange.
+
+"Every morning she teaches me grammar," said Aleta. "Mother's never
+wanted me to talk slang like the other girls. She says if you're
+careless with your English you get careless of your principles. Mother's
+got a lot of quaint ideas like that."
+
+Again came her rippling laugh. Frank grew to enjoy her; look forward to
+the nightly fifteen minutes of companionship. They never met anywhere
+else. But when an illness held Aleta absent for a week the Dusty
+Doughnut seemed a lonesome place.
+
+Bertha twitted Frank upon his absent-mindedness one evening as he dined
+with her. By an effort he shook off his vagary of the other girl. He
+loved Bertha. But, for some unfathomed cause, she held him off. Never
+had she let him reach a declaration.
+
+"We're such marvelous friends!... Can't we always be that--just that?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Things drifted on. Schmitz, as a Mayor, caused but small remark. He
+reminded Frank of a rustic, sitting at a banquet board and watching his
+neighbors before daring to pick up a fork or spoon. But Ruef went on
+building his fences. Union Labor was now a force to deal with. And Ruef
+was Union Labor.
+
+One of Robert's clients desired to open a French restaurant, with the
+usual hotel appurtenances. He made application in the usual manner. But
+the license was denied.
+
+Robert was astonished for no reason was assigned and all requests for
+explanation were evaded.
+
+A week or so later, Robert met the restaurateur. "Well, I've done it,"
+said the latter, jovially. "Open Monday, Come around and eat with me."
+
+"But--how did you manage it?"
+
+"Oh, I took a tip. I made Ruef my attorney. Big retaining fee," he
+sighed. "But--well, it's worth the price."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXVII
+
+ALETA'S PROBLEM
+
+By the end of Schmitz' second term the Democrats and Republicans were
+thoroughly alarmed. They saw a workingmen's control of city government
+loom large and imminent, with all its threat of overturned political
+tradition.
+
+So the old line parties got together. They made it a campaign of
+Morality against imputed Vice. They selected as a fusion standard-bearer
+George S. Partridge, a young lawyer of unblemished reputation--and of
+untried strength.
+
+"If Ruef succeeds a third time," Frank said to his father, "he'll
+control the town. He'll elect a full Board of Supervisors ... that is
+freely prophesied if Union Labor wins. You ought to see his list of
+candidates--waffle bakers, laundry wagon drivers--horny-fisted sons of
+toil and parasites of politics. Heaven help us if they get in power!"
+
+"But there's always a final reckoning ... like the Vigilance Committee,"
+said Francisco, slowly. "Somehow, I feel that there's a shakeup coming."
+
+"A moral earthquake, eh?" laughed Jeanne. "I wouldn't want to have a
+real one, with all of our new skyscrapers."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+After dinner Stanley and his son strolled downtown together. Exercise
+and diet had been recommended, Francisco was acquiring embonpoint. Frank
+was enthusiastic over the new motor carriages called automobiles.
+
+Robert had one of them--the gasoline type--with a _chauffeur_, as the
+French called the drivers of such machines. Bertha Larned had an
+"electric coupe," very handsome and costly, with plate-glass windows on
+three sides. She drove it herself. Frank sometimes encountered it
+downtown, looking like a moving glass cage, with the two women in it.
+Mrs. Larned, the aunt, always had a slightly worried expression, and
+Bertha, as she steered the thing through a tangle of horse-drawn
+traffic, wore a singularly determined look.
+
+There were cable cars on most of the streets; a few electric lines which
+ran much more swiftly. But people deemed the latter dangerous. There was
+much popular sentiment against electrizing Market street. The United
+Railways, which had succeeded the old Market Street Railway Company, was
+in disfavor. There were rumors of illicit bargains with the Supervisors
+for the granting of proposed new franchises. Young Partridge made much
+of this. He warned the public that it was about to be "betrayed." But
+his prophetic eloquence availed him little. Schmitz and all the Union
+Labor candidates won by a great majority.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Frank sought Aleta at the Dusty Doughnut some months later. He was very
+tired, for the past few days had brought a multitude of tasks. He had
+counted on Aleta's smile. It seldom failed to cheer him, to restore the
+normal balance of his mind. But, though she came, the smile was absent.
+There was a faint ghost of it now and again; a harried look about the
+eyes. Frank thought there was a mistiness which hinted recent tears.
+
+He laid a hand sympathetically on hers. "What is it, little girl?"
+
+She would not tell him. Her mother was ill. But the trouble did not lie
+there. Frank was sure. She had borne that burden long and
+uncomplainingly. Aleta had an ingenue part now at the Alcazar. Only once
+or twice a week did she keep the tacit tryst at the little nocturnal
+cafe. Frank saw her at the Techau, at Zinkand's, the St. Germain, with
+the kind of men that make love to actresses. She knew all about the
+stock market and politics, for some of Ruef's new Supervisors were among
+her swains. Once or twice, as the jargon of the journals has it, she had
+"tipped off" a story to Frank.
+
+She said at last, "I'll tell you something ... but you mustn't print it:
+This new city government is running wild.... They're scheming to hold up
+the town. They've made a list of all the corporations--the United
+Railways, the telephone company.... Everyone that wants a favor of the
+city must pay high. The man who told me this said that his share will
+total $30,000. Ruef and Schmitz will probably be millionaires."
+
+"But how's it to be done? They're being watched, you know. They've lots
+of enemies. Bribery would land them in the penitentiary."
+
+The girl leaned forward. "Ah, this isn't ordinary bribery. Anyone that
+wants a franchise or a license hires Ruef as his attorney. They say he
+gets as high at $10,000 for a retaining fee ... and they expect to clean
+the street car company out of a quarter million."
+
+Prank stared. "Why--in God's name!--did he tell you this?"
+
+"He loves me." There was something like defiance in her answer. "He
+wants me to accompany him to Europe--when he gets the coin. He says it
+won't be long."
+
+"So"--Frank was a little nonplussed--"he wants you to marry him?"
+
+"No," the girl's face reddened. "No, I can't ... he's got a wife."
+
+For a moment there was silence. Then. "What did you tell the--hound,
+Aleta?"
+
+"He's not a hound," she said evenly. "The wife won't care. She runs with
+other men...." Her eyes would not meet Frank's. "I--haven't answered."
+
+"But--your mother!"
+
+"Mother's mind is gone," Aleta answered, bitterly. "She doesn't even
+recognize me now.... But she's happy." Her laugh rang, mirthless.
+
+"Aleta," he said, sternly, "do you love this man?"
+
+"No," she said and stared at him. "I--I--"
+
+"What?"
+
+"I love another--if you must know all about it."
+
+"Can't you--marry _him?_ Is he too poor?" asked Stanley.
+
+"Poor?" Her eyes were stars; "that wouldn't matter. No, he's not my
+sort...."
+
+"Does he know?"
+
+"No," Aleta answered, hastily. "No, he doesn't ... and he never will."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Frank told his father something of the conversation.
+
+"Its an open secret," said Francisco, "that Ruef and his crew are out
+for the coin. I'll tell you something else you mustn't print, your paper
+is determined to expose Ruef. The managing editor is on his way to
+Washington to confer with President Roosevelt.... The plan is to borrow
+Francis Heney and William J. Burns."
+
+"What? The pair that has been exposing Senators and land frauds up in
+Oregon?"
+
+His father nodded. "Phew!" The young man whistled. "You were right when
+you predicted that there was a shakeup coming."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Frank, expecting startling things to happen, kept his mind alert. But
+the months passed uneventfully. The editor returned from Washington. No
+sensational announcement followed the event. Later it was rumored that
+Burns had sent operatives to the city. They were gathering evidence, one
+understood, but if they did, naught seemed to come of it. Frank was
+vaguely disappointed. Now and then he saw Aleta, but the subject of
+their former talk was not resumed. Vaguely he wondered what manner of
+man was her beloved.
+
+Frank resented the idea that he was above her. Aleta was good enough
+for any man.
+
+Bertha was visiting her aunt's home in the East. She had been very
+restless and capricious just before she went. All women were thus, he
+supposed. But he missed her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXVIII
+
+THE FATEFUL MORN
+
+On the evening of April 17, 1906, Frank and Bertha, who had recently
+returned, attended the opera. The great Caruso, whose tenor voice had
+taken the East by storm, and whose salary was reputed to be fabulous,
+had come at last to San Francisco. Fremsted, almost equally famous, was
+singing with him in "Carmen" at the Grand Opera House. All the town
+turned out in broadcloth, diamonds, silks and décolleté to hear them--a
+younger generation of San Franciscans assuming a bit uncomfortably that
+social importance which had not yet become genealogically sure
+of itself.
+
+Frank and Bertha drove down in the electric brougham, for which they had
+with difficulty found a place along the vehicle-lined curb of Mission
+street. And, as they were early, they halted in the immense and
+handsome, though old-fashioned, foyer to observe the crowd. The air was
+heavy with perfume.
+
+"Look at that haughty dame with a hundred-thousand dollar necklace," he
+smiled. "One would have thought her father was at least a king. Forty
+years ago he drove a dray.... And that one with the ermine coat and
+priceless tiara. Wouldn't you take her for a princess? Ah, well, more
+power to her! But her mother cleaned soiled linen in Washerwoman's
+Lagoon and her dad renovated cuspidors, swept floors in the
+Bella Union."
+
+But the girl did not seem interested. "I wonder," she remarked a little
+later, "why it makes so very much--ah--difference ... who one's
+parents were?"
+
+There was a curious, half-detached sadness in her tone. Frank wondered
+suddenly if he had blundered. Bertha had never mentioned her parents. He
+vaguely understood that they had died abroad and had foreborne to
+question, fearing to arouse some tragic memory.
+
+"Of course, it really doesn't matter," he said hastily; "it's only when
+people put on airs that I think of such things." She took his arm with
+fingers that trembled slightly. "Let us go in. The overture is
+beginning."
+
+During an intermission she whispered. "I wish I were like Carmen--bold
+enough to fight the world for lo--for what I wanted."
+
+"Aren't you?" he turned and looked at her.
+
+"No, sometimes I'm overwhelmed ... feel as though I can't look life in
+the face." He saw that her lips were trembling, that her eyes were
+winking back the tears.
+
+"What is it, dear?" he questioned. But she did not answer. The curtain
+rose upon the final act.
+
+Silently they moved out with a throng whose silk skirts swished and
+rustled. The men were restless, glad of a chance at the open and a
+smoke; the women gay, exalted, half intoxicated by the musical appeal to
+their emotions. There was an atmosphere almost of hysteria in the great
+swiftly emptying auditorium.
+
+"I feel sort of--smothered," Bertha said; "suppose we walk."
+
+"Gladly," answered Frank, "but what about the coupe?"
+
+"There's one of these new livery stables with machine shop attached not
+far away. They call it a garage.... We'll leave the brougham there,"
+she said.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The night was curiously still--breathless one might have called it.
+While the temperature was not high, there was an effect of warmth,
+vaguely disturbing like the presage of a storm. As they traversed a
+region of hotels and apartment houses, Frank and Bertha noted many open
+windows; men and women staring out half dreamily. They passed a livery
+stable, out of which there came a weird uncanny dissonance of horses
+neighing in their stalls.
+
+"Tell me of your actress friend. Do you see her often?" Bertha asked.
+
+"Not very. She's a good pal. But she's ... well, not like you."
+
+Her eyes searched him. "Do you mean she's not as--pretty, Frank?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know," he answered. "It's because I love you, dear. Aleta's
+right enough. But she's not--oh, you know--essential."
+
+Bertha squeezed his arm. Was silent for a moment. Then, "Aleta's father
+was a circus rider?"
+
+"Acrobat. Yes, he was killed when she was quite a child."
+
+"But she remembers him; they were married, her mother" and he."
+
+"Why, yes, I suppose so ... naturally."
+
+There was another silence. Suddenly he turned on her, perplexed.
+"Bertha, what is wrong with you tonight?"
+
+They were crossing a little park high up above the city whose lights
+lay, shimmering and misty, below. The stillness was obtrusive here. Not
+a leaf stirred. There was no one about. They might have been alone upon
+some tropic peak.
+
+"I--can't tell you, Frank." Her tone of blended longing and despair
+caught at his heart.
+
+Impetuously his arms went around her. "Dear," he said unsteadily. "Dear,
+I want you.... Oh, Bertha, I've waited so long! I don't care any more if
+you're rich ... I'm going to--you've got to promise...."
+
+She tried to protest, to push him away; but Frank held her close. And,
+after a moment, like a tired child's, her head lay quiet on his
+shoulder; her arms stole round his neck; she began to weep softly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The horror came at dawn.
+
+Frank, startled from a late and restless slumber, thought that he was
+being shaken or attacked by some intruder. He sprang up, sleepily
+bewildered. The room rocked with a quick, sharp, jerking motion that was
+strangely terrifying. There was a dull indescribable rumbling,
+punctuated by a sound of falling things. A typewriter in one end of the
+room went over on the floor. A shaving mug danced on the shelf and fell.
+The windows rattled and a picture on the wall swayed drunkenly.
+
+"Damn!" Frank rubbed his eyes. "An earthquake!"
+
+He heard his mother's scream; his father's reassuring answer. Hurriedly
+he reached for his clothes. Downstairs he found his father endeavoring
+to calm the frightened servants, one of whom appeared to have hysterics.
+Presently his mother entered with the smelling salts. Soon the maid's
+unearthly laughter ceased.
+
+"Anyone hurt?" Frank questioned anxiously.
+
+"No," his father answered. "Thought the house was going over ... but
+there's little damage done."
+
+Suddenly Frank thought of Bertha. He must go to her. She would be
+frightened.
+
+He ran into the debris-cluttered street. Cable cars stood here and
+there, half twisted from the tracks, pavements were littered with bricks
+from fallen chimneys, bits of window glass. Men and women in various
+degrees of dishabille, were issuing from doorways. As he mounted higher,
+Frank saw smoke spirals rising from the southeastern part of town. He
+heard the strident clang of firegongs.
+
+Automobiles were tearing to and fro, with a great shrieking of siren
+whistles.
+
+It seemed like a nightmare through which he tore, without a sense of
+time or movement, arriving finally at the marble vestibule of Bertha's
+home. It was open and he rushed in, searching, calling. But he got no
+answer. Bertha, servants, aunt--all apparently had fled.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX
+
+THE TURMOIL
+
+Frank never knew just why he turned toward the town from Bertha's empty
+dwelling. It was an involuntary reaction. The excitement of those lower
+levels seemed to call, and thence he sped. Several times
+acquaintances--newspaper men and others--accosted him. Everyone was
+eagerly alert, feverishly interested, as if by some great adventure.
+Japanese boys were sweeping up the litter in front of stores. In many
+places things were being put in order, as if the trouble were over. But
+at other points there was confusion and dread. Half-dressed men and
+women wandered about, questing for a cup of coffee, but there was none
+to be had, for the gas mains had broken.
+
+People converged toward parks and open spaces. Union Square was crowded
+with a strangely varied human mass; opera singers from the St. Francis
+Hotel, jabbering excitedly in Italian or French, and making many
+gestures with their jeweled hands; Chinese and Japanese from the
+Oriental quarter hard by; women-of-the-town, bedraggled, sleepy-eyed and
+fearful; sailors, clerks, folk from apartment houses.
+
+Near the pansy bed a woman lay. She screamed piercingly at intervals.
+Frank learned that she was in travail. By and by a doctor came, a nurse.
+They were putting up tents on the green sward. Automobiles rolled up,
+sounding their siren alarms. Out of them were carried bandaged men who
+moaned, silent forms on litters, more screaming women. They were taken
+to the tents. Extra police appeared to control the crowds that surged
+hither and thither without seeming reason, swayed by sudden curiosities
+and trepidation.
+
+San Francisco was burning. The water mains were broken by the quake,
+Frank learned. The fire department was demoralized. Chief Sullivan was
+dead. A falling chimney from the California Hotel had crushed him.
+
+There were emergency reservoirs, but no one seemed to know where. They
+had not been used for years.
+
+Swiftly the fire gained. It ravaged like a fiend in the factory district
+south and east, toward the bay.
+
+By noon a huge smoke curtain hid the sky; through it the sun gleamed
+palely like a blood-red disc. Wild rumors were in circulation. Los
+Angeles was wiped out. St. Louis had been destroyed. New York and
+Chicago were inundated by gigantic tidal waves.
+
+Frank decided to return home and discover how his people fared. Perhaps
+there would be a bite for him. He found his father's house surrounded by
+a cordon of young soldiers--student militiamen from Berkeley, some one
+said. They ordered him off.
+
+"But--" he cried. "It's my HOME. My father and mother are there."
+
+"They were ordered out two hours since," said a youthful officer, who
+came up to settle the dispute. "We'll have to dynamite the place.... No
+water.... Desperate measures necessary...."
+
+He stopped Frank's effort to reply with further stereotyped
+announcements. "Orders of the Admiral, Mayor, Chief of Police.... Sorry.
+Can't be helped.... Keep back, everybody. Men have orders to shoot."
+
+He made off tempestuously busy and excited.
+
+Frank shouted after him, "Wait, where have my parents gone? Did they
+leave any word?"
+
+The young man turned, irritably. "Don't know," he answered, and resumed
+his vehement activities. Frank, with a strange, empty feeling, retraced
+his way, fought a path by means of sheer will and the virtue of his
+police badge across Market street, and struck out toward Lafayette
+Square. Scarcely realizing it, he was bound for Aleta's apartment.
+
+A warped shaft had incapacitated the automatic elevator, so he climbed
+three flights of stairs and found Aleta packing.
+
+"Frank!" she cried, and ran to him. "This is good of you." She took both
+of his hands and clung to them as if she were a little frightened.
+
+"Wait," she said. "I'll bet you've had nothing to eat. I'll make you a
+cup of coffee and a toasted cracker on the spirit lamp."
+
+Silently he sat on a broken chair and watched her. He was immensely
+grateful and--he suddenly realized--immensely weary. What a dear girl
+Aleta was! And he had not thought of her till all else failed him.
+
+Soon the coffee was steaming in two little Dresden cups, one minus a
+handle. There was a plateful of crackers, buttered and toasted, a bit of
+Swiss cheese. Frank had never tasted anything so marvelous.
+
+"Where were you going?" he asked, finally.
+
+"To the park ... the panhandle ... everybody's going there."
+
+"Your--mother!" A swift recollection smote him. "Where is she?"
+
+"Mother died last week," Aleta turned away. "I'm rather thankful--now."
+
+Silently he helped her with the packing. There were a suitcase and a
+satchel for the choice of her possessions. They required much picking
+and choosing. Many cherished articles must be abandoned.
+
+Suddenly Aleta ran to Frank. The room was rocking. Plaster fell about
+them. The girl screamed. To his astonishment, Frank found his arms
+around her waist. He was patting her dark, rumpled hair. Her hands were
+on his shoulders, and her piquant, wistful face close to his own. She
+had sought him like a frightened child. And he, with masculine
+protective impulse, had responded. That was all. Or was it? They looked
+into each other's eyes, bewildered, shaken. All was quiet now. The
+temblor had passed instantly and without harm.
+
+In the street they joined a motley aggregation moving westward in
+horse-driven vehicles, automobiles, invalid chairs, baby buggies and
+afoot. Rockers, filled with household goods, tied down and pulled by
+ropes, were part of the procession. Everyone carried or dragged the
+maximum load his or her strength allowed.
+
+When they reached that long narrow strip of park called the Panhandle it
+was close to dusk. They advanced some distance ere they found a vacant
+space. The first two blocks were covered like a gypsy camp with wagons,
+trunks and spread-out salvage of a hundred hastily abandoned homes.
+Improvised tents had been fashioned from blankets or sheets. Before one
+of these a bearded man was praying lustily for salvation. A neighbor
+watched him, smiling, and drank deeply from a pocket flask. A stout
+woman haled Aleta. "You and your husband got any blankets?" she asked.
+
+"No," the girl said, reddening. "No, we haven't ... and he's not ..."
+
+"Well, never mind," the woman answered. "Take these two. It may come
+cold 'fore morning. And I've got more than I can use. We brung the
+wagon." She drew the girl aside and nudged her in the ribs.
+
+"We ain't married, either--Jim 'n' me. But what's the diff?"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXX
+
+AFTERMATH
+
+About daylight the next morning Frank was awakened by a soft pattering
+sound. He jumped to his feet. Was it raining? All about folk stirred,
+held forth expectant hands to feel the drops. But they were fine white
+flakes--ashes from the distant conflagration. Aleta still lay moveless,
+wrapped in her blanket some ten feet away. They had been up most of the
+night, watching the flames, had seen them creep across Market street, up
+Powell, Mason, Taylor, Jones streets to Nob Hill. Finally Frank had
+persuaded Aleta to seek a little rest. Despite her protest that sleep
+was impossible, he had rolled her in one of the borrowed blankets,
+wrapping himself, Indianwise, in the other. Toward morning slumber had
+come to them both.
+
+Aleta, now awake, smiled at Frank and declared herself refreshed. "What
+had we better do next?" she questioned.
+
+Frank pondered. "Go to the Presidio, I guess. The army's serving food
+out there, I hear." He returned the blankets to their owner and the two
+of them set forth. On Oak street, near the mouth of Golden Gate Park, a
+broken street main spouted geyser-like out of the asphalt. They snatched
+a hurried drink, laved their faces and hands and went on, passing a
+cracker wagon, filled with big tin containers, and surrounded by a
+hungry crowd. The driver was passing out crackers with both hands,
+casting aside the tins when they were empty.
+
+"It's like the Millennium," Aleta remarked. "All classes of people
+herded together in common good will. Do you see that well-fed looking
+fellow carrying the ragged baby? He's a corporation lawyer. He makes
+$50,000 a year I'm told. And the fat woman he's helping with her
+numerous brood is a charwoman at the Alcazar theatre."
+
+Frank looked and laughed. "Why--it's my Uncle Robert!" he exclaimed.
+
+Robert Windham held out his free hand to Frank and Aleta. His family was
+safe, he told them. So were Francisco and Jeanne, who had joined the
+Windhams when the Stanley home was dynamited. They had gone to Berkeley
+and would stay with friends of Maizie's.
+
+Frank wrote down the address. He decided to remain in San Francisco.
+There was Aleta.... And, somehow, Bertha must be located.
+
+Everyone was bound for the Presidio.
+
+"You may find me there later," said Windham. "I've some--er--business on
+this side."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At the great military post which slopes back on the green headlands from
+the Golden Gate, Frank and Aleta found a varied company. The hospitals
+were filled with men and women burned in the fire or hurt by falling
+walls. There were scores--perhaps a hundred of them. Frank, with his
+heart in his mouth, made a survey of the hospitals, after finding tent
+room for Aleta. His press badge gained admittance for him everywhere and
+he went through a pretence of taking notes. But he was looking for
+Bertha. At a large tent they were establishing an identification bureau,
+a rendezvous for separated families, friends or relatives. Many people
+crowded this with frantic inquiries.
+
+Soup was being served at the mess kitchens. Great wagons filled with
+loaves of bread drove in and were apportioned. Men, women and children
+formed in line to get their shares.
+
+The sky was still covered with smoke. Late comers reported that the fire
+had crossed Van Ness avenue. There were orders posted all about that one
+must not build fires indoors nor burn lights at night. Those who
+disobeyed would be shot. The orders were signed by Mayor Schmitz.
+Saloons had been closed for an indefinite period. Two men, found looting
+the dead, had been summarily executed by military order. Hundreds of
+buildings were being dynamited. The dull roar of these frequent
+explosions was plainly discernible at the Presidio.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+After they had eaten Frank said good-bye to Aleta. He was going back to
+town. The feverish adventure of it called him. And he had learned that
+there were many other camps of refugees. In one of these he might find
+Bertha. A milk wagon, clattering over the cobblestones overtook him and,
+without an invitation, he climbed aboard. Frank had little sense of
+destination or purpose. He wanted action. The thought of Bertha tugged
+at him now like a pain, insistent, quenchless. He tried to stifle it by
+movement, by absorbing interest in the wondrous drama all about him.
+
+Suddenly he sprang from the wagon. They had reached the park where he
+had learned of Bertha's love. Frank scarcely recognized the tiny
+pleasure ground, so covered was it with tents and bedding. It swarmed
+with people--a fact which Frank resented oddly. In the back of his mind
+was a feeling that this spot was sacred.
+
+He made his way among the litter of fabrics and humanity. These were
+mostly people from the valley where a foreign section lay. Loudly and
+excitedly they chattered in strange tongues, waving their hands about.
+Children wailed. All was disorder, uncontrol.
+
+Sickened of the place Frank turned to go, but something tugged at his
+coatsleeve; a haggard, elderly dishevelled man.
+
+Frank looked at the fellow in wonder. Then he gave a cry and took
+the fellow by the shoulders. He had recognized, despite disguising
+superficialities of garb and manner, Bertha's once spick-and-span
+butler.
+
+"God Almighty, Jarvis!" Frank could scarcely speak, his heart was
+pounding so. "Wh--where is she--Bertha?"
+
+"Come with me, sir," said the old man sadly. He led the way past
+sheet-hung bushes, over crumb-and-paper sprinkled lawns to a little
+retreat under sheltering trees. One had to stoop to enter that arbored,
+leaf encircled nest through which the sun fell like a dappled pattern on
+the grass. Frank adjusted his eyes to the dimmer light before he took in
+the picture: a girl lying, very pale and still, upon a gorgeous Indian
+blanket. She looked at him, cried out and stretched her arms
+forth feebly.
+
+"Bertha!" He knelt down beside her, pressed his lips to hers. Her arms
+about his neck were cold but strangely vibrant. For a moment they
+remained thus. Then he questioned, anxiously, "Bertha? What is wrong?"
+
+"Everything! The world!" she whispered. "When you left me dearest, I was
+happy! I had never dreamed that one could be so glad! But afterward ...
+I didn't dare to face the morning--and the truth!" Her lips quivered.
+"I--I couldn't stand it, Frank," she finished weakly.
+
+"She took morphia," said Jarvis. "When the earthquake came I couldn't
+wake her. I was scared. I carried her out here."
+
+"You tried to kill yourself!" Frank's tone was shocked, condemning.
+"After Tuesday night?"
+
+Her eyes craved pardon. She essayed to speak but her lips made wordless
+sounds. Finally she roused a little, caught his hand and held it to
+her breast.
+
+"Ask your Uncle Robert, dear?" she whispered. Her eyes looked into his
+with longing, with renunciation. A certain peace stole into them and
+slowly the eyelids closed.
+
+Frank, who had half grasped the meaning of her words, leaned forward
+fearfully. The hand which held his seemed colder, more listless. There
+was something different. Something that he could not name--that
+frightened him.
+
+Suddenly he realized its meaning. The heart which had pulsed beneath his
+fingers was still.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXI
+
+READJUSTMENT
+
+Of the trip to Berkeley which followed, Frank could not afterward recall
+the slightest detail. Between the time when, like a madman, he had tried
+to rouse his sweetheart from that final lethargy which knew no waking,
+and the moment when he burst upon his Uncle Robert with what must have
+seemed an insane question, Frank lost count of time.
+
+He was in the library of an Alameda county lawyer, host of the Stanley
+and the Windham families. Across the mahogany table, grasping the back
+of a chair for support, one hand half outstretched in a supplicating
+gesture, stood his Uncle Robert--pale, shaken ghost of the
+self-possessed man that he usually was. Between them, imminent with
+subtle violence, was the echo of Frank's question, hurled, like an
+explosive missile at the elder man:
+
+"Why did Bertha Larned kill herself?"
+
+After an interval of silence Windham pulled himself together; looked
+about him hastily ere he spoke. "Hush! Not here! Not now!" The eyes
+which sought Frank's were brilliant with suffering. "Is she--dead?"
+
+The young man nodded dumbly. Something like a sob escaped the elder. He
+was first to speak. "Come. We must get out of here. We must have a
+talk." He opened the door and went out, Frank following. In the street,
+which sloped sharply downward from a major elevation, they could see the
+bay of San Francisco, the rising smoke cloud on the farther shore. They
+walked together upward, away from the houses, toward a grove of
+eucalyptus trees. Here Robert halted and sat down. He seemed utterly
+weary. Frank stood looking down across the valley.
+
+"Bertha Larned was my daughter," said his uncle almost fiercely.
+
+Frank did not turn nor start as Windham had expected. One might have
+thought he did not hear. At length, however, he said slowly, "I
+suspected that--a little. But I want to know."
+
+"I--can't tell you more," said the other brokenly.
+
+"Who--who was her mother, Uncle Bob?"
+
+"If you love her, Frank, don't ask that question."
+
+The young man snapped a dry twig from a tree and broke it with a sort of
+silent concentration into half a dozen bits. "Then--it's true ... the
+tale heard round town! That you and--"
+
+"Yes, yes," Windham interrupted, "Frank, it's true."
+
+"The--procuress?"
+
+"Frank! For God's sake!" Windham's fingers gripped his nephew's arm.
+"Don't let Maizie know. I've tried to live it down these twenty
+years...."
+
+"Damn it, do you think I'd tell Aunt Maizie?"
+
+"It's--I can't believe it yet! That you--"
+
+"Maizie wouldn't leave her mother." With a flicker of defiance Robert
+answered him. "I was young, rudderless, after my people went East.... A
+little wild, I guess."
+
+"So you sought consolation?"
+
+"Call it what you like," the other answered. "Some things are too strong
+for men. They overwhelm one--like Fate."
+
+Frank began pacing back and forth, his fingers opening and shutting
+spasmodically.
+
+"Uncle Bob," he said at length, "... after you married, what became--"
+
+"Her mother sent the child East--to a sister. She was well
+raised--educated. If she'd only stayed there, in that Massachusetts
+town!"
+
+"Then--Bertha didn't know?"
+
+"Not till she came to San Francisco, after her mother's death. She had
+to come to settle the estate. The mother left her everything--a string
+of tenements. She was rich."
+
+"Bertha came to you, then, I suppose."
+
+"Yes, she came to me," said Robert Windham.
+
+Suddenly, as though the memory overwhelmed him, Windham's face sank
+forward in his hands.
+
+"She was very sweet," his voice broke pitifully. "I--loved her."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Several days later Frank and his father paid a visit to the ruined city.
+One had to get passes in Oakland and wear them on one's hat. Sightseers
+were not admitted nor carried on ferry boats, trains.
+
+Already Telegraph Hill was dotted with new habitations. It was rumored
+that Andrea Sbarbora, banker and patron of the Italian Colony, was
+bringing a carload of lumber from Seattle which he would sell to fire
+sufferers on credit and at cost. The spirit of rehabilitation
+was strong.
+
+Frank was immensely cheered by it. But Francisco was overwhelmed by the
+desolation. "I am going South," he told his son. "I can't bear to see
+this. I don't even know where I am."
+
+It was true. One felt lost in those acres of ashes and debris. Familiar
+places seemed beyond memorial reconstruction, so smitten was the mind by
+this horror of leveled buildings, gutted walls and blackened streets.
+
+Francisco and Jeanne went to San Diego. There the former tried to
+refashion the work of many months--two hundred pages of a novel which
+the flames destroyed. Robert Windham and his family journeyed to Hawaii.
+Frank did not see his uncle after that talk in the Berkeley Hills.
+
+Parks and public spaces were covered with little green cottages in
+orderly rows. Refugee camps one termed then and therein lived 20,000 of
+the city's homeless.
+
+Street cars were running. Passengers were carried free until the first
+of May. Patrick Calhoun was trying to convert the cable roads into
+electric lines in spite of the objection of the improvement clubs. He
+was negotiating with the Supervisors for a blanket franchise to
+electrize all of his routes.
+
+"And he'll get it, too," Aleta told Frank as they dined together. "It's
+arranged, I understand, for quarter of a million dollars."
+
+Frank pondered. "What'll Langdon say to that?"
+
+William H. Langdon was the district attorney, a former superintendent of
+schools, whom Ruef had put on his Union Labor ticket to give it tone.
+But Langdon had refused to "take program." He had even raided the
+"protected" gamblers, ignoring Ruef's hot insinuations of "ingratitude."
+
+"Oh, Ruef's too smart for Langdon," said Aleta. "Every Sunday night he,
+Schmitz and Big Jim Gallagher hold a caucus. Gallagher is Ruef's
+representative on the Board. They figure out what will occur at Monday's
+session of the Supervisors. It's all cut and dried."
+
+"It can't last long," Frank mused. "They're getting too much money.
+Those fellows who used to earn from $75 to $100 a month are spending
+five times that amount. Schmitz is building a palace. He rides around in
+his automobile with a liveried chauffeur. He's going to Europe
+they say."
+
+The girl glanced up at him half furtively. "Perhaps I'll go to Europe,
+too."
+
+"What?" Frank eyed her startled. "Not with--"
+
+"Yes, my friend, the Supervisor." Her tone was defiant. "Why shouldn't
+I?"
+
+"Don't--Aleta."
+
+"But, why not?"
+
+He was silent. But his eyes were on her, pleadingly.
+
+"Would you care, Frank? Would you care--at all?"
+
+"You know I would," he spoke half angrily. The girl traced patterns with
+her fork upon the table cloth.
+
+[Illustration: "I am going South," Francisco told his son. "I cannot
+bear this."]
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXII
+
+AT BAY
+
+On May 21, the United Railway Company received a franchise to electrize
+any of its street-car routes, "where grades permitted."
+
+At once ensued a public uproar. From the press, the pulpit and the
+rostrum issued fiery accusations that the city was betrayed. In the
+midst of it Mayor Schmitz departed for Europe.
+
+Frank met Ruef at the Ferry, where the former had gone to see Aleta off
+on a road tour with her company. The little boss was twisting his
+moustache and muttering to himself.
+
+"So His Honor's off on a lark," said the newsman, meaningly.
+
+Ruef glared at him, but made no answer.
+
+Afterward Frank heard that they had quarreled. Ruef, he learned, had
+charged the mayor with ingratitude; had threatened, pleaded,
+warned--without success.
+
+Schmitz had gone; his was the dogged determination which easily-led men
+sometimes manifest at unexpected moments. One heard of him through the
+press dispatches, staying at the best hotels of European capitals,
+making speeches when he had a chance. He was like a boy on a holiday.
+But at home Ruef sensed the stirring of an outraged mass and trembled.
+He could no longer control his minions. And, worst of all, he could not
+manage Langdon. "Big Jim" Gallagher, now the acting mayor, was docile to
+a fault, however. He would have put his hand into the fire for this
+clever little man, whom he admired so immensely. Once they discussed the
+ousting of Langdon.
+
+"It would be quite legal," Ruef contended. "The Mayor and Board have
+power to remove a district attorney and select his successor."
+
+Henry Ach, advisor of the boss, looked dubious. "I'm not sure of that.
+Moreover, it's bad politics. It would be better seemingly to cooperate
+with Langdon. He has the public confidence. We've not.... Besides, whom
+would we put in Langdon's place?"
+
+"Ruef," said "Big Jim," with his ready admiration. "He's the man."
+
+"Hm!" the little boss exclaimed, reflectively. "Well we shall see."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Frank liked Langdon. He was rather a slow-thinking man; not so clever at
+expedient as Ruef. But he was grounded in the Law--and honest. Moreover,
+he had courage. Powerful enemies and their machinations only stirred
+his zest.
+
+Single-handed Langdon might have been outwitted by the power and
+astuteness of his foes. But another mind, a keener one was soon to add
+its force to Langdon's. Francis J. Heney, special investigator of the
+Roosevelt government, who had unmasked and overthrown corruption in high
+places, was in town.
+
+Frank knew that he had come to San Francisco for a purpose. He met this
+nervous, wiry, sharp-eyed man in the managing editor's office now and
+again. Once he had entered rather unexpectedly upon a conference of
+Heney, former Mayor James D. Phelan, Rudolph Spreckels, son of the sugar
+nabob, and William J. Burns. Frank, who guessed he was intruding, made a
+noiseless exit; not, however, till he heard that there would be a
+thorough, secret search into the trolley franchise and some other
+actions of the Ruef administration. Spreckels and Phelan guaranteed to
+raise $100,000 for this purpose. Burns and his detectives had for
+several months been quietly at work.
+
+On October 24 District Attorney Langdon publicly announced the
+appointment of Francis J. Heney as his assistant, stating that a
+thorough and fearless search into the actions of the city government
+would ensue.
+
+On October 25 the Supervisors met. Frank, himself, went to the council
+chamber to learn what was afoot. He suspected a sensation. But the Board
+met quietly enough at 2:30 o'clock, with Jim Gallagher in the chair. At
+2:45 a special messenger called the acting Mayor to Ruef's office. Three
+hours later he was still absent from the angry and impatient Board.
+
+That some desperate move was imminent Frank realized. Here was Ruef
+between two bodeful dates. Yesterday had come the news that Langdon had
+appointed Heney--the relentless enemy of boodlers--to a place of power.
+Tomorrow would begin the impaneling of a Grand Jury, whose avowed
+purpose it was to "investigate municipal graft."
+
+"What would I do if I were Ruef?" Frank asked himself. But no answer
+came. He paced up and down the corridor, pondering the situation. At
+intervals he paused before the Supervisors' chamber. Once he found the
+door slightly ajar and listened shamelessly. He saw Big Jim Gallagher,
+red-faced, excited, apparently much flustered, reading a paper. He
+thought he heard Langdon's name and Heney's. There seemed to be
+dissension in the board. But before he learned anything definite a
+watchful attendant closed the portal with an angry slam. Frank resumed
+his pacing.
+
+Finally he went out for a bite to eat.
+
+Frank returned half an hour later to find the reporters' room in an
+uproar. Big Jim Gallagher had dismissed Langdon from office with the
+corroboration of the Board of Supervisors, as a provision of the city
+ordinance permitted him to do. Ruef had been appointed district
+attorney.
+
+Langdon's forces were not disconcerted by the little boss's coup. Late
+that evening Frank advised his paper of a counterstroke. Heney had
+aroused Judge Seawell from his slumbers and obtained an order of the
+court enjoining Ruef from actual assumption of the title he had
+arrogated to himself.
+
+Judge Graham upheld it. Langdon remained the district attorney. Though
+Ruef imposed every possible obstacle, the Grand Jury was impaneled,
+November 7, and began its work of investigation with such startling
+celerity that Ruef and Schmitz faced charges of extortion on five
+counts, a week later.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXIII
+
+IN THE TOILS
+
+Meanwhile Schmitz, who had but recently returned from Europe, became
+officially involved in the anti-Japanese agitation.
+
+"He's summoned East to see the President," said a Burns operative to
+Frank one morning as they met at Temple Israel. "Lucky devil, that big
+fellow! Here's the town at sixes and sevens about the 'little brown
+brother.' Doesn't want him with its white kids in the public schools.
+The Mikado stirs the devil of a row with Washington about it. And Teddy
+sends for 'Gene. Just his luck to come back a conquering hero."
+
+But Schmitz fared badly at the Capital, whence Roosevelt dispatched a
+"big stick" message to the California Legislature. At the same time
+George B. Keane, the Supervisors' clerk, and a State Senator as well,
+was working for the "Change of Venus bill," a measure which if passed,
+would have permitted Ruef to take his case out of the jurisdiction of
+Judge Dunne. But the bill was defeated. Once more Ruef's straining at
+the net of Justice had achieved no parting of the strands.
+
+On March 6 Stanley greeted Mayor Schmitz as he stepped from a train at
+Oakland Mole. Correspondents and reporters gathered round the tall,
+bearded figure. Schmitz looked tired, discouraged.
+
+Perfunctorily, uneasily, Schmitz answered the reporter's queries. He had
+done his level best for San Francisco. As for the charges pending
+against him, they would soon be disproved. No one had anything on him.
+All his acts were open to investigation.
+
+"Do you know that Ruef has skipped?" Frank asked.
+
+"Wh-a-a-t!" the Mayor set down his grip. He seemed struck all of a heap
+by the announcement.
+
+"Fact!" another newsman corroborated. "Abie's jumped his bond. He's the
+well-known 'fugitive from justice.'"
+
+Without a word the Mayor left them. He walked aboard the ferry boat
+alone. They saw him pacing back and forth across the forward deck, his
+long overcoat flapping in the wind, one hand holding the dark, soft hat
+down on his really magnificent head.
+
+"A ship without a rudder," said Frank. The others nodded.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Over the municipal administration was the shadow of Ruef's flight. The
+shepherd had deserted his flock. And the wolves of the law were howling.
+
+Frank was grateful to the Powers for this rushing pageant of political
+events. It gave him little chance to grieve. Now and then the tragedy of
+Bertha gripped him by the throat and shook him with its devastating
+loneliness. He found a certain solace in Aleta's company. She was always
+ready, glad to walk or dine with him. She knew his silences; she
+understood.
+
+But there were intervals of grief beyond all palliation; days when he
+worked blindly through a grist of tasks that seemed unreal. And at night
+he sought his room, to sit in darkness, suffering dumbly through the
+hours. Sometimes Dawn would find him thus.
+
+Robert Windham and his family had returned from the Hawaiian Islands.
+They had found a house in Berkeley; Windham opened offices on Fillmore
+street. Robert and his nephew visited occasionally a graveyard in the
+western part of town. The older man brought flowers and his tears fell
+frankly on a mound that was more recent than its neighbors. But Stanley
+did not join in these devotions.
+
+"She is not here," he said one day. "You know that, Uncle Robert."
+
+"She's up above," returned the other, brokenly. "My poor, wronged
+child!"
+
+Frank stared at him a moment. "Do you believe in the conventional
+Heaven?"
+
+"Why--er--yes," said Windham, startled. "Don't you, Frank?"
+
+"No," said Stanley, doggedly. "Not in that ... nor in a God that lets
+men suffer and be tempted into wrongs they can't resist ... makes them
+suffer for it."
+
+"What do you mean? Are you an atheist?" asked Windham, horrified.
+
+"No ... but I believe that God is Good. And knows no evil. Sometimes in
+the night when I've sat thinking, Bertha seems to come to me; tells me
+things I can't quite understand. Wonderful things, Uncle Robert."
+
+The other regarded him silently, curiously. He seemed at a loss.
+
+"I've learned to judge men with less harshness," Frank spoke on. "Ruef
+and Schmitz, for instance.... Every now and then I see the Mayor pacing
+on the ferryboat. It's rather pathetic, Uncle Robert. Did God raise him
+up from obscurity just to torture him? He's had wealth and
+honor--adoration from the people. Now he's facing prison. And those poor
+devils of Supervisors; they've known luxury, power. Now they're huddled
+like a pack of frightened sheep; everybody thinks they're guilty. Ruef's
+forsaken them. Ruef, with his big dream shattered, fleeing from
+the law...."
+
+He faced his uncle fiercely, questioning. "Is that God's work? And
+Bertha's body lying there, because of the sins of her forebears! Forgive
+me, Uncle Robert. I'm just thinking aloud."
+
+Windham placed a hand upon his nephew's shoulder. "I'm afraid I can't
+answer you, Frank," he said slowly. "You're a young man. You'll forget.
+The world goes on. And our griefs do not matter. We fall and we get up
+again ... just as Ruef and the others will."
+
+"Do you suppose they'll catch him--Ruef, I mean?"
+
+"Not if the big fellows can prevent it. If he's caught there'll be the
+deuce to pay. Our Pillars of Finance will topple.... No, I think Ruef
+is safe."
+
+"I don't quite understand," said Stanley.
+
+"Ruef, himself, is nothing; a political boss, a solicitor of bribes. But
+our corporation heads. The town will shake when they're accused, perhaps
+indicted. I know what's been going on. We're close to scandals that'll
+echo round the world."
+
+Frank looked at his uncle wonderingly. Windham was a corporation lawyer.
+Doubtless he knew. Silently the two men made their way out of the
+graveyard. Frank determined to ride down town with his uncle, and then
+telephone to Aleta. He hadn't seen her for a week.
+
+As the car passed the Call building they noted a crowd at Third and
+Market streets, reading a bulletin. People seemed excited. Frank jumped
+from the moving car and elbowed his way forward. In the newspaper window
+was a sheet of yellow paper inscribed in large script: "BURNS ARRESTS
+RUEF AT THE TROCADERO ROADHOUSE."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXXIV
+
+THE NET CLOSES
+
+Frank discussed the situation with Aleta one evening after Ruef's
+capture. Her friend, the Supervisor, had brought news of the alarm.
+
+"He says no one of them will trust the other; they're afraid of
+Gallagher; think he'll turn State's evidence, or whatever you call it.
+'Squeal,' was what he said."
+
+"Burns and Heney must be putting on the screws," commented Frank.
+
+"Frank," Aleta laid a hand impulsively upon his arm, "I don't suppose
+there's any way to save this man ... I--oh, Frank, it would be awful if
+he went to prison."
+
+He stared at her. "What do you mean, Aleta?"
+
+"I mean," she answered, "that he's done things for me ... because he
+loves me ... hopes to win me. He's sincere in that.... Oh, can't you see
+how it would hurt if--"
+
+"If he gets caught--stealing," Frank spoke harshly. "Well, you should
+have thought of that before, my dear."
+
+A touch of anger tinctured the appeal with which her eyes met his. "One
+doesn't always reason when the heart is sore. When one is bitter
+with--well--yearning."
+
+He did not answer. He was rather startled by that look. Finally she
+said, more gently: "Frank, you'll help him if you can--I know."
+He nodded.
+
+It was late. Aleta had to hurry to the theatre. Frank left her there and
+walked down Sutter street.
+
+He turned south toward Heney's office. It was in a little house between
+Geary and O'Farrell, up a short flight of stairs. Above were the living
+quarters of Heney and his companion, half clerk, half bodyguard.
+
+There was a light in the office, but the shades of the bay-window were
+tightly drawn. Frank rang the bell, which was not immediately answered.
+Finally the bodyguard came to the door. "Mr. Heney's very busy, very
+busy." He seemed tremendously excited.
+
+"Very well," said Frank; "I'll come tomorrow."
+
+"We'll have big news for you," the man announced. He shut the door
+hastily and double-locked it.
+
+Frank decided to remain in the neighborhood. He might learn something.
+The morning papers had been getting the best of it recently in the
+way of news.
+
+It proved a tiresome vigil. And the night was chilly. Frank began to
+walk briskly up and down the block. A dozen times he did this without
+result. Then the sudden rumble of a motor car spun him about. He saw two
+men hasten down the steps of Heney's office, almost leap into the car.
+Instantly it drove off. Frank, who followed to the corner, saw it
+traveling at high speed toward Fillmore street. He looked about for a
+motor cab in which to follow. There was none in sight. Reluctantly he
+turned toward home. He had been outwitted, doubtless by a watcher. But
+not completely. For he was morally certain that one of the men who left
+Heney's office was Big Jim Gallagher. That visit was significant. From
+his hotel Frank tried to locate the editor of his paper by telephone. He
+was not successful. He went to bed, disgusted, after leaving a
+daylight call.
+
+It was still dark when he dressed the next morning, the previous
+evening's events fresh in his thought.
+
+He had scarcely reached the street before a newsboy thrust a morning
+paper toward him. Frank saw that the upper half of the front page was
+covered with large black headlines. He snatched it, tossing the boy a
+"two-bit piece," and, without waiting or thinking of the change, became
+absorbed in the startling information it conveyed.
+
+Sixteen out of the eighteen Supervisors had confessed to taking bribes
+from half a dozen corporations. Wholesale indictments would follow, it
+was stated, involving the heads of public service companies--men of
+unlimited means, national influence. Many names were more than
+hinted at.
+
+Ruef, according to these confessions, had been the arch-plotter. He had
+received the funds that corrupted an entire city government. Gallagher
+had been the go-between, receiving a part of the "graft funds" to be
+divided among his fellow Supervisors.
+
+Each of the crooked sixteen had been guaranteed immunity from
+imprisonment in consideration of their testimony.
+
+"Well, that saves Aleta's friend, at any rate," thought Frank. He
+recalled his uncle's prediction that Ruef's capture would result in
+extraordinary revelations. But it had not been Ruef, after all, who
+"spilled the beans." Ruef might confess later. They would need his
+testimony to make the case complete.
+
+As a matter of fact, Ruef had already begun negotiations with Langdon
+and Heney looking toward a confession.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Grand Jury acted immediately upon the wholesale confessions of
+Ruef's Supervisors. They summoned before them the heads of many
+corporations, uncovering bribery so vast and open that they were
+astounded. They found that $200,000 had been paid for the trolley
+franchise and enormous sums for permits to raise gas rates, for
+telephone franchises, for prize-fight privileges and in connection with
+a realty transaction.
+
+The trolley bribe funds had been carried in a shirt box to Ruef by the
+company's attorney. Other transactions had been more or less "covered."
+But all were plain enough for instant recognition. San Francisco, which
+had suspected Ruef and his Supervisors with the easy tolerance of a
+people calloused to betrayal, was aroused by the insolent audacity of
+these transactions. It demanded blood.
+
+And Heney was prepared to furnish sanguine vengeance. He was after the
+"higher-ups," he stated. Like a passionate evangel of Mosaic law, he set
+out to secure it. Louis Glass, acting president of the telephone
+company, was indicted on a charge of felony, which made a great
+hallabaloo, for he was a personable man, a clubman, popular and
+generally esteemed.
+
+A subtle change--the primary index of that opposition which was to
+develop into a stupendous force--was noted by the prosecution. Heney and
+Langdon had been welcomed hitherto in San Francisco's fashionable clubs.
+Men of wealth and standing had been wont to greet them as they lunched
+there, commending their course, assuring them of cooperation.
+
+But after the telephone indictment there came a cooling of the
+atmosphere. Glass seemed more popular than ever. Langdon and Heney were
+often ignored. People failed to recognize them on the street. Even
+Spreckels and Phelan, despite their wealth and long established
+standing, suffered certain social ostracisms.
+
+Wealthy evildoers found themselves as definitely threatened by the law
+as were the Supervisors. But wealth is made of sterner stuff. It did not
+cringe nor huddle; could not seek immunity through the confessional.
+Famous lawyers found themselves in high demand. From New York, where he
+had fought a winning fight for Harry Thaw, came Delphin Delmas. T.C.
+Coogan, another famous pleader, entered the lists against Heney in
+defense of Glass.
+
+Meanwhile the drawing of jurors for Ruef's trial progressed, inexorably.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXV
+
+THE SEVEN PLAGUES
+
+Several weeks passed. Politics were in a hectic state, and people
+grumbled. Frank discussed the situation with his Uncle Robert. "Why
+don't they oust these grafters from office?" he asked.
+
+Windham smiled. "Because they daren't, Frank," he answered. "If the
+prosecution forced the Supervisors to resign, which would be easy
+enough, do you know what would happen?"
+
+"Why, they'd fill their posts with better men, of course."
+
+"Not so fast, my boy. The Mayor has the power to fill all vacancies due
+to resignations. Don't you see what would happen? Schmitz could select
+another board over whom the prosecution would hold no power. Then, if
+necessary, he'd resign and his new board would fill the Mayor's chair
+with some one whom Ruef or the Mayor could trust. Then the city
+government would once more be independent of the law."
+
+"Lord! What a tangle," Frank ruminated. "How will they straighten it
+out?"
+
+"Remove the Mayor--if they can convict him of felony."
+
+"Suppose they do. What then?"
+
+"The prosecution forces can then use their power over the
+boodlers--force them to appoint a Mayor who's to Langdon's liking.
+Afterward they'll force the Supervisors to resign and the new Mayor will
+put decent people in their stead."
+
+"Justice!" apostrophized Frank, "thy name is Red Tape!"
+
+Heney alone was to enter the lists against Delmas and Coogan in the
+trial of Louis Glass. The charge was bribing Supervisor Boxton to vote
+against the Home telephone franchise.
+
+Frank had seen Glass at the Press Club, apparently a sound and honest
+citizen. A little doubt crept into Frank's mind. If men like that could
+stoop to the bribing of Supervisors, what was American civilization
+coming to?
+
+He looked in at the Ruef trial to see if anything had happened. For the
+past two months there had been nothing but technical squabbles,
+interminable hitches and delays.
+
+Ruef was conferring with his attorneys. All at once he stepped forward,
+holding a paper in his hand. Tears were streaming down his face. He
+began to read in sobbing, broken accents.
+
+The crowd was so thick that Frank could not get close enough to hear
+Ruef's words. It seemed a confession or condonation. Scattered fragments
+reached Frank's ears. Then the judge's question, clearly heard, "What is
+your plea?"
+
+"Guilty!" Ruef returned.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ruef's confession served to widen the breach between Class and Mass. He
+implicated many corporation heads and social leaders in a sorry tangle
+of wrongdoing. Other situations added fuel to the flame of economic war.
+The strike of the telephone girls had popular support, a sympathy much
+strengthened by the charges of bribery pending against telephone
+officials.
+
+[Illustration: All at once he stepped forward.... Tears were streaming
+down his face. Then the judge's question, clearly heard, "What is your
+plea?" "Guilty!" Ruef returned.]
+
+Ten thousand ironworkers were on strike at a time when their service was
+imperative, for San Francisco was rebuilding feverishly. Capital made
+telling use of this to bolster its impaired position in the public mind.
+While "pot called kettle black," the city suffered. The visitation of
+some strange disease, which certain physicians hastened to classify
+as bubonic plague, very nearly brought the untold evils of a quarantine.
+A famous sanitarian from the East decided it was due to rats. He came
+and slew his hundred-thousands of the rodents. Meanwhile the malady had
+ceased. But there were other troubles.
+
+Fire had destroyed the deeds and titles stored in the Recorder's office,
+as well as other records. Great confusion came with property transfer
+and business contracts. But, worst of all, perhaps, was the street
+car strike.
+
+"It seems as though the Seven Plagues of Egypt were being repeated,"
+remarked Frank to his uncle as they lunched together. They had come to
+be rather good companions, with the memory of Bertha between them. For
+Frank, within the past twelve months, had passed through much
+illuminating experience.
+
+Robert Windham, too, was a changed man. He cared less for money. Frank
+knew that he had declined big fees to defend some of the "higher ups"
+against impending charges of the graft prosecution. Windham smiled as he
+answered Frank's comment about the Seven Plagues.
+
+"We'll come out of it with flying colors, my boy. A city is a great
+composite heart that keeps beating, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, but
+the healthy blood rules in the main; it conquers all passing
+distempers."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Market street was queer and unnatural without its rushing trolley cars.
+All sorts of horse-drawn vehicles rattled up and down, carrying
+passengers to and from the ferry. Many of the strikers were acting as
+Jehus of improvised stages. Autotrucks, too, were impressed into
+service. They rumbled along, criss-crossed with "circus seats,"
+always crowded.
+
+Frank made his way northward and east through the ruins. Here and there
+little shops had opened; eating houses for the army of rehabilitation.
+They seemed to Frank symbols of renewed life in the blackened waste,
+like tender, green shoots in a flame-ravaged forest. Sightseers were
+beginning to swarm through the burned district, seeking relics.
+
+A large touring car honked raucously almost in Frank's ear as he was
+crossing Sutter street, and he sprinted out of its lordly course,
+turning just in time to see the occupant of the back seat, a large man,
+rather handsome, in a hard, iron-willed way. He sat stiffly erect,
+unbending and aloof, with a kind of arrogance which just escaped being
+splendid. This was Patrick Calhoun, president of the United Railroads,
+who had sworn to break the Carmen's Union. It was said that Calhoun had
+sworn, though less loudly, to break the graft prosecution as well.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On Montgomery street several financial institutions were doing business
+in reclaimed ruins. One of these was the California Safe Deposit and
+Trust Company, which had made spectacular history of late. It was said
+that spiritualism entered into its affairs. Frank had been working on
+the story, which promised a sensation.
+
+As he neared the corner of California and Montgomery streets, where the
+crumbled bank walls had been transformed into a temporary habitation, he
+saw a crowd evidently pressing toward it. The bank doors were closed,
+though it was not yet three o'clock. Now and then people broke from the
+throng and wandered disconsolately away. One of these, a gray-haired
+woman, came in Frank's direction. He asked her what was wrong.
+
+"They're busted ... and they've got me money," she wailed.
+
+Hastily Frank verified her statement. Then he hurried to the office,
+found his notes and for an hour wrote steadily, absorbedly a spectacular
+tale of superstition, extravagance and financial chaos. As he turned in
+his copy the editor handed him a slip of paper on which was written:
+"Call Aleta Boice at once." He sought a telephone, but there was no
+response. He tried again, but vainly. A third attempt, however, and
+Aleta's voice, half frantic, answered his.
+
+"He's killed himself," she cried. "Oh, Frank, I don't know what to do."
+
+"He? Who?" Frank asked startled.
+
+"Frank, you know! The man who wanted me to--"
+
+"Do you mean the Supervisor?"
+
+"Yes.... They say it was an accident. But I know better. He lost his
+money in the safe deposit failure.... Oh, Frank, please come to
+me, quick."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXVI
+
+A NEW CITY GOVERNMENT
+
+Frank found Aleta, dry-eyed, frantic, pacing up and down her little
+sitting room which always looked so quaintly attractive with its jumble
+of paintings and bric-a-brac, its distinctive furniture and
+draperies--all symbolic of the helter-skelter artistry which was a part
+of Aleta's nature. She took Frank's hand and clung to it.
+
+"I'm so glad you've come," she whispered. "I'm so glad you've come."
+
+It was a little time ere she could tell him of the tragedy. The man had
+been run over, quickly killed. Witnesses had seen him stagger, fall
+directly in the path of an advancing car. A doctor called it apoplexy.
+
+"But I know better," sobbed Aleta, for the tears had come by now. "He
+never was sick in his life. He thought he'd lost me when the money went
+... his money in the California Safe Deposit Company."
+
+Frank took a seat beside her on the couch, whose flaming, joyous colors
+seemed a mockery just then. "Aleta," he said, "I wish I could help you.
+I wish I knew how, but I don't."
+
+She lifted her tear-stained eyes to his with a curious bitterness. "No
+... you don't. But thank you. Just your coming's helped me, Frank. I'm
+better. Go--and let me think things over." She tried to smile, but the
+tears came.
+
+"Life's a hideous puzzle. Perhaps if I'd gone with him, all would have
+come right.... I'd have made him happy."
+
+"But what about yourself?"
+
+Again that bitter, enigmatic look came to her eyes. "I guess ... that
+doesn't matter, Frank."
+
+He left her, a queer ache in his heart. Was she right about the man's
+committing suicide. Poor devil! He had stolen for a woman. Others had
+filched his plunder. Then God had taken his misguided life.
+
+But had He? Was God a murderer? A passive conniver at theft? No, that
+were blasphemy! Yet, if He _permitted_ such things--? No, that couldn't
+be, either. It was all an abominable enigma, as Aleta said. Unless--the
+thought came startlingly--it were all a dream, a nightmare. Thus Kant,
+the great philosopher, believed. Obsessed by the idea, he paused before
+a book-store. Its show window prominently displayed Francisco Stanley's
+latest novel.
+
+Frank missed the mellow wisdom of his father's counsel seriously. He
+entered the shop, found a volume of Kant and scanned it for some moments
+till he read:
+
+"This world's life is only an appearance, a sensuous image of the pure
+spiritual life, and the whole of Sense is only a picture swimming before
+our present knowing faculty like a dream and having no reality
+in itself."
+
+Acting upon a strange impulse, he bought the book, marked the passage
+and ordered it sent to Aleta.
+
+A week after Ruef's confession the trial of Mayor Schmitz began. It
+dragged through the usual delays which clever lawyers can exact by legal
+technicality. Judge Dunne, sitting in the auditorium of the Bush Street
+synagogue, between the six-tinned ceremonial candlesticks and in front
+of the Mosiac tablets of Hebraic law, dispensed modern justice.
+
+Meanwhile the Committee of Seven sprang suddenly into being. A morning
+paper announced that Schmitz had handed the reins of the city over to a
+septette of prominent citizens. Governor Gillette lauded this action.
+But Rudolph Spreckels disowned the Committee. Langdon and Heney were
+suspicious of its purpose. So the Committee of Seven resigned.
+
+At this juncture the Schmitz trial ended in conviction of the Mayor
+which was tantamount to his removal from office. It left a vacancy
+which, nominally, the Supervisors had the power to fill. But they were
+under Langdon's orders. Actually, therefore, the District Attorney found
+himself confronted by the task of naming a new mayor.
+
+Unexpectedly the man was found in Edward Robeson Taylor, doctor of
+medicine and law, poet and Greek scholar. The selection was hailed with
+relief. Frank hastened to the Taylor home, a trim, white dwelling on
+California street near Webster. He found a genial, curly-haired old
+gentleman sitting in a room about whose walls were thousands of books.
+He was reading Epictetus.
+
+Stanley found the new mayor likeable and friendly. He seemed a man of
+simple thought. Frank wondered how he would endure the roiling passions
+of this city's politics. Dr. Taylor seemed undaunted by the
+prospect, though.
+
+Without delay he was elected by the Supervisors. Then began the farcical
+procedure of their resignations. One by one the new chief named good
+citizens as their successors.
+
+But the real fight was now beginning. Halsey's testimony had not
+incriminated Glass beyond a peradventure. There remained a shade of
+doubt that he had authorized the outlay of a certain fund for the
+purposes of bribery. The jury disagreed. The Prosecution's first battle
+against the "higher-ups" had brought no victory.
+
+Ruef was failing Heney as a witness for the people. After months of
+bargaining the special prosecutor withdrew his tacit offer of immunity.
+Heney's patience with the wily little Boss, who knew no end of legal
+subterfuge, was suddenly exhausted. Frank heard that Ruef was to be
+tried on one of the three hundred odd indictments found against him.
+Schmitz had been sentenced to five years in San Quentin. He
+had appealed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Several times Frank tried to reach Aleta on the telephone. But she did
+not respond to calls, a fact which he attributed to disorganized
+service. But presently there came a letter from Camp Curry in the
+Yosemite Valley.
+
+"I am here among the everlasting pines and cliffs," she wrote, "thinking
+it all out. I thank you for the book, which has helped me. If only we
+might waken from our 'dream'! But here one is nearer to God. It is very
+quiet and the birds sing always in the golden sunshine.
+
+"I shall come back saner, happier, to face the world.... Perhaps I can
+forget myself in service, I think I shall try settlement work.
+
+"Meanwhile I am trying not to think of what has happened ... what can
+never happen. I am reading and painting. Yesterday a dog came up and
+licked my hand. I cried a little after that, I don't know why."
+
+In his room that evening, Frank re-read the letter. It brought a lump to
+his throat.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXVII
+
+NORAH FINDS OUT
+
+Very soon after the appointment of Mayor Taylor, the second trial of
+Louis Glass ended in his conviction. He was remanded to the county jail
+awaiting an appeal. The trial of an official of the United Railways
+began. Meanwhile the politicians rallied for election.
+
+Schmitz had been elected at the end of 1905. His term, which Dr. Taylor
+was completing, would be terminated with the closing of the present
+year. And now the Graft Prosecution was to learn by public vote how many
+of the people stood behind it.
+
+Union Labor, ousted and discredited by venal representatives, was not
+officially in favor of the Taylor-Langdon slate. P.H. McCarthy, labor
+leader and head of the Building Trades Council, was Labor's nominee
+for Mayor.
+
+Frank met McCarthy now and then. He posed as "a plain, blunt man," but
+back of the forthright handgrip, the bluff directness of manner, Frank
+scented a massive and wily self-interest. He respected the man for his
+power, his crude but undeniable executive talents.
+
+The two opponents for the Mayoralty were keenly contrasted. Taylor was
+quiet, suavely cultured, widely read but rather passive. Some said he
+lacked initiative.
+
+Frank MacGowan was Langdon's foeman in the struggle for the district
+attorneyship. Little could be said for or against him. A lawyer of good
+reputation who had made his way upward by merit and push, he had done
+nothing big. He was charged with no wrong.
+
+The "dark horse" was Daniel Ryan.
+
+Ryan was a young Irishman, that fine type of political leader who
+approximates what has sometimes been called a practical idealist. He had
+set out to reform the Republican Party and achieved a certain measure of
+success, for he had beaten the Herrin or Railroad forces at the
+Republican Convention. Ryan was avowedly pro-prosecution. It was
+believed that he would deliver his party's nomination to Taylor
+and Langdon.
+
+But he astonished San Francisco voters by becoming a candidate for
+mayor.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Aleta had returned from Camp Curry. There was a certain quiet in her
+eyes, a greater self-control, a better facing of Life's problems. They
+spoke of Kant and his philosophy. "The Nightmare is less turbulent,"
+she said.
+
+One evening at her apartment Frank met a young woman named France, a
+fragile, fine-haired, dreamy sort of girl, and he was not surprised to
+learn that she wrote poetry.
+
+"Norah's been working as a telephone operator," explained Aleta. "She's
+written a story about it--the working girl's wrongs.... Oh, not the
+ordinary wail-and-whine," she added hastily. "It's real meat. I've read
+it. The Saturday Magazine's considering it."
+
+Miss France smiled deprecatingly. "I have high hopes," she said. "I need
+the money."
+
+"It will give you prestige, too," Frank told her, but she shook her
+head.
+
+"Norah hasn't signed her name to it," Aleta disapproved. "Just because a
+friend, a well known writer in Carmel, has fixed it up for her
+a little."
+
+"It doesn't seem like mine," the girl remarked. Aleta rose. "This is
+election night," she said; "let's go down and watch the returns."
+
+They did this, standing on the fringe of a crowd that thronged about the
+newspaper offices, watching, eager, but patient, the figures which were
+flashed on a screen.
+
+The crowd was less demonstrative than is usual on such occasions. A
+feeling of anxiety prevailed, a consciousness of vital issues endangered
+and put to the test. Toward midnight the crowd grew thicker. But it was
+more joyous now. Taylor and Langdon were leading. It became evident that
+they must win.
+
+Suddenly the restless stillness of the throng was broken by spontaneous
+cheering. It was impressive, overwhelming, like a great burst of
+relieved emotion.
+
+Norah France caught Frank's arm as the celebrants eddied round them. The
+press was disbanding with an almost violent haste. "Where's Aleta?"
+asked the girl.
+
+Frank searched amid the human eddies, but in vain. "She got separated
+from us somehow," he said rather helplessly. They searched farther,
+without result. Aleta doubtless had gone home.
+
+"I wonder if you'd take me somewhere ... for a cup of coffee," said Miss
+France. The hand upon his arm grew heavy. "I'm a little faint."
+
+"Surely." He suggested a popular cafe, but she shook her head. "Just
+some quiet little place ... a 'chop house.' That's what the switch-girls
+call them."
+
+So they entered a pair of swinging doors inscribed "Ladies" on one side
+and "Gents" on the other. Miss France laughingly insisted that they pass
+each on the proper side of this divided portal. She was a creature of
+swift moods; one moment feverishly gay, the next brooding, with a
+penchant for satire. He wondered how she endured the hard work of a
+telephone switch-operator. But one felt that whatever she willed she
+would do. Eagerly she sipped her steaming coffee from a heavy crockery
+cup, nibbling at a bit of French bread. Then she said to him so suddenly
+that he almost sprang out of his chair.
+
+"Do you know that Aleta Boice loves you?"
+
+He looked at her annoyed and disturbed by the question.
+
+"No, I don't," he answered slowly. "Nor do I understand just what
+you're driving at, Miss France."
+
+"If you'll forgive me," her eyes were upon him, "I am driving at
+masculine obtuseness ... and Aleta's happiness."
+
+"Then you're wasting your time," he spoke sharply. "Aleta loves
+another.... She's told me so."
+
+"Did she tell you his name?"
+
+"No, some prig of a professor, probably.... Thinks he's 'not her kind.'"
+
+"Yes ... let's have another cup of coffee. Yes, Aleta told me that."
+
+Frank signalled to the waiter. "She's anybody's kind," he said,
+forcibly.
+
+"But not yours, Mr. Stanley."
+
+"Mine? Why not?"
+
+"Because you don't love her." Norah's tone was sad, half bitter. "Will
+you forgive me? I'm sorry I provoked you.... But I had to know....
+Aleta's such a dear. She's been so good to me."
+
+The Christmas holidays brought handsome stock displays to all the
+stores. San Francisco was still flush with insurance money but there was
+a pinch of poverty in certain quarters. The Refugee Camps had been
+cleared, public parks and squares restored to their normal state.
+
+Langdon and Heney worked on. Another jury brought a verdict of "not
+guilty" at the second trial of a trolley-bribe defendant. Some of the
+newspapers had changed by almost imperceptible degrees, were veering
+toward the cause of the defense.
+
+Then, like a thunderbolt, in January, 1908, came news that the Appellate
+Court had set aside the conviction of Ruef and Schmitz. Technical errors
+were assigned as the cause of this decision. The people gasped. But some
+of the newspapers defended the Appellate Judges' decree.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXVIII
+
+THE SHOOTING OF HENEY
+
+Heney and Langdon, who had had, perhaps, some inkling of an adverse
+decision, went grimly on. Enemies of Prosecution, backed by an enormous
+fund, were setting innumerable obstacles in their way. Witnesses
+disappeared or changed their testimony. Jurors showed evidence of having
+been tampered with. Through a subsidized press an active propaganda of
+Innuendo and Slander was begun.
+
+Calhoun's trial still loomed vaguely in the distance. Heney, overworked
+and harassed in a multitude of ways--keyed to a battle with ruffians,
+gun-men and shysters as well as the ablest exponents of law, developed a
+nervousness of manner, a bitterness of mind which sometimes led him
+to extremes.
+
+"He isn't sleeping well," his faithful bodyguard confided to Frank one
+afternoon when they met on Van Ness avenue. "He comes down in the
+morning trying to smile but I know he feels as though he'd like to bite
+my head off. I can see it in his eyes. He needs a rest."
+
+"Mr. Calhoun evidently thinks so, too," retorted Stanley. "The Honorable
+Pat is trying to retire him."
+
+"He'll never succeed," said the other explosively. "Frank Heney's not
+that kind. He'll fight on till he drops.... But I hate to see those
+boughten lawyers ragging him in court."
+
+Langdon, more phlegmatic of temperament, stood the gaff with less
+apparent friction. Hiram Johnson gave aid now and then which was always
+of value. There was a dauntless quality about the man, a rugged
+double-fisted force which made him feared by his opponents.
+
+Frank Stanley looked in at the second Ruef trial. He found it a
+kaleidoscope of dramatic and tragic events. Heney, who had been the
+target for a volley of insinuations from Ruef's attorneys, was nervous
+and distraught. Several times he had been goaded into altercation; had
+struck back with a bitterness that showed his mounting anger. Stanley
+noted that he was "on edge," and rather looked for "fireworks," as the
+reporters called these verbal duels of the Prosecution trials. But he
+was astonished to see Heney turn upon an unoffending juryman in sudden
+fury. The man had a fat, good-natured Teuton face with small eyes and a
+heavy manner. His name was Morris Haas. He had asked to be excused but
+the judge had not granted his plea.
+
+Now he seemed to cower in exaggerated fright before the Prosecutor's
+pointed finger. A little hush ensued. A tense dramatic pause. Then Heney
+branded Haas before the court-room as a former convict.
+
+The man broke down utterly. Many years before he had served a short term
+in prison. After his release he had married, raised a family, "lived a
+respectable life," as he pleaded in hysterical extenuation. He kept a
+grocery store.
+
+Haas stumbled from the court-room and Frank followed him. He could not
+help but feel a certain pity for the poor wretch, wailing brokenly that
+he was "ruined." He could never face his friends again. His customers
+would leave him. Frank learned the details of his ancient crime; he also
+ascertained that Haas had lived rightly since. The incident rankled. He
+wrote a guarded story of the affair. But he did not mention one episode
+of Haas' exposure. As the man staggered out Frank had heard another
+whisper sympathetically, "I would kill the man who did that to me."
+
+Justice often has its cruel, relentless aspects. Haas, with his weak,
+heavy face, stayed in Stanley's memory. An ordinary man might have tried
+again and won. But Haas was drunken with self-pity and the melancholy of
+his race. He would brood and suffer. Frank felt sorry for the man, and,
+somehow, vaguely apprehensive.
+
+Ruef's trial ended in a disagreement of the jury. It was a serious blow.
+Most of the San Francisco papers heaped abuse upon the Prosecution, its
+attorneys and its judges.
+
+Matters dragged along until the 13th of November. Gallagher was on the
+witness stand. He testified with the listlessness of many repetitions to
+the sordid facts of San Francisco's betrayal by venal public servants.
+It was all more or less perfunctory. Everyone had heard the tale from
+one to half a dozen times.
+
+Heney was at the attorneys' table talking animatedly with an assistant.
+The jury had left the room and Gallagher stepped down from the stand to
+have a word with the prosecutor. A few feet away was Heney's bodyguard
+lolling, plainly bored by the testimony. There was the usual buzz of
+talk which marks a lull in court proceedings.
+
+Into this scene came with covert tread a wild, dramatic figure. No one
+noted his approach. Morris Haas, glittering of eye, dishevelled, mad
+with loss of sleep and brooding, had crept into the court-room unheeded.
+He approached the attorneys' table stealthily.
+
+All at once Frank saw him standing within a foot of Heney. Something
+glittered in his outstretched hand. Frank shouted, but his warning lost
+itself in a wild cry of revengeful accusation. There was a sharp report;
+smoke rose. An acrid smell of exploded powder hung upon the air. Heney,
+with a cry, fell backward. Blood spurted from his neck.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Once more the city was afire with men's passions. Haas was rushed to the
+county jail and Heney to a hospital, where it was found, amid great
+popular rejoicing, that the wound was not a fatal one. Had it been
+otherwise no human power could have protected Haas from lynching.
+
+A great mass meeting was held. Langdon, Phelan, Mayor Taylor pleaded for
+order. "Let us see to it," said the last, "that no matter who else
+breaks the law, we shall uphold it." This became the keynote of the
+meeting. Rudolph Spreckels, who arrived late, was greeted with
+tumultuous cheering.
+
+Frank and Aleta were impressed by the spontaneity of the huge popular
+turnout. "It means," said the girl, as they made their exit, "that San
+Francisco is again aroused to its danger. What a great, good natured,
+easy-going body of men and women this town is! We feed on novelty and
+are easily wearied. That's why so many have back-slid who were strong
+for the Prosecution at first."
+
+"Yes, you're right," answered Frank. "We alternate between spasms of
+Virtue and comfortable inertias of Don't-care-a-Damn! That's San
+Francisco!"
+
+"The Good Gray City," he added after a little silence. "We love it in
+spite of its faults and upheavals, don't we, Aleta?"
+
+"Perhaps because of them." She squeezed his arm. For a time they walked
+on without speaking. "How is your settlement work progressing?" he asked
+at length.
+
+But she did not answer, for a shrieking newsie thrust a paper in her
+hand. "Buy an extra, lady," he importuned her. "All about Morris
+Haas' suicide!"
+
+She tossed him a coin and he rushed off, shrilling his tragic
+revelation. Huge black headlines announced that Heney's assailant had
+shot himself to death in his cell.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXIX
+
+DEFEAT OF THE PROSECUTION
+
+While Heney lay upon the operating table of a San Francisco hospital,
+three prominent attorneys volunteered to take his place. They were Hiram
+Johnson, Matt I. Sullivan and J.J. Dwyer. Ruef's trial went on with
+renewed vigor three days after the attempted killing, though the
+defendant's attorneys exhausted every expedient for delay. It was a case
+so thorough and complete that nothing could save the prisoner. He was
+found guilty of bribing a Supervisor in the overhead trolley transaction
+and sentenced to serve fourteen years in San Quentin penitentiary.
+
+Frank was in the court-room when Ruef's sentence was imposed. The Little
+Boss seemed oddly aged and nerveless; the old look of power was gone
+from his eyes. Frank recalled Ruef's plan of a political Utopia. The man
+had started with a golden dream, a genius for organization which might
+have achieved great things. But his lower self had conquered. He had
+sold his dream for gold. And retribution was upon him.
+
+Frank thought of Patrick Calhoun, large, blustering, arrogant with the
+pride of an old Southern family; the power of limitless wealth between
+him and punishment; a masterful figure who had broken a labor union and
+who scoffed at Law. And Eugene Schmitz, once happy as a fiddler. Schmitz
+was trying to face it out in the community. Frank could not tell if that
+was courage or a sort of impudence.
+
+During the holidays Frank visited his parents in San Diego. His
+granduncle, Benito Windham, had died abroad. And his mother was ailing.
+Frank and his father discussed the Prosecution.
+
+"It has had its day," the elder Stanley said. "Your public is listless,
+sick of the whole rotten mess. They've lost the moral perspective. All
+they want is to have it over."
+
+"I guess I feel the same way." Frank's eyes were downcast.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Sometimes Frank met Norah France at Aleta's apartment, but she carefully
+avoided further mention of the topic they had talked of on election
+night. Frank liked her poetry. With a spirit less morbid she would have
+made a name for herself he thought.
+
+Aleta was doing more and more settlement work. She had been playing
+second lead at the theater and had had a New York offer. Frank could not
+understand why she refused it. But Norah did, though she kept the secret
+from Frank.
+
+"Do you know how many talesmen have been called in the Calhoun trial?"
+Aleta asked, looking up from the newspaper. "There were nearly 1500 in
+the Ruef case. They called that a record." She laughed.
+
+"Of course Pat Calhoun would wish to outdo Abe Ruef," said Frank.
+"That's only to be expected. He's had close to 2500, I reckon."
+
+"Not quite," Aleta referred to the printed sheet. "Your paper says 2370
+veniremen were called into court. That's what money can do. If he'd been
+some poor devil charged with stealing a bottle of milk from the
+doorstep, how long would it take to convict him?"
+
+"It's a rotten world," the other girl spoke with a sudden gust of
+bitterness. "A world without honor or justice."
+
+"Or a nightmare," said Frank, with a glance at Aleta.
+
+"Well, if it is, I'm going to wake up soon--in one way or another," said
+Norah. "I will promise you that." To Frank the words seemed ominous. He
+left soon afterward.
+
+The Calhoun trial dragged interminably. Heney, not entirely recovered
+from his wound, but back in court, faced a battery of the country's
+highest priced attorneys. There were A.A. and Stanley Moore, Alexander
+King, who was Calhoun's law partner in the South; Lewis F. Byington, a
+former district attorney; J.J. Barrett, Earl Rogers, a sensationally
+successful criminal defender from Los Angeles, and Garret McEnerney.
+Heney had but one assistant, John O'Gara, a deputy in Langdon's office.
+
+For five long months the Prosecution fought such odds. Heney lost his
+temper frequently in court. He was on the verge of a nerve prostration.
+Anti-prosecution papers hinted that his faculties were failing. Langdon
+more or less withdrew from the fight. He was tired of it; had declined
+to be a candidate for the district attorneyship in the Fall. Heney was
+the Prosecution's only hope. He consented to run; which added to his
+legal labors the additional tasks of preparing for a campaign.
+
+It was not to be wondered at that Heney failed to convict Calhoun. The
+jury disagreed after many ballots. A new trial was set. But before a
+jury was empanelled the November ballot gave the Prosecution its "coup
+de grace."
+
+P.H. McCarthy was elected Mayor. Charles Fickert defeated Heney for the
+district attorneyship. An anti-Prosecution government took office.
+
+"Big Jim" Gallagher, the Prosecution's leading witness, disappeared.
+
+Fickert sought dismissal of the Calhoun case and finally obtained it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+San Francisco heaved a sigh of relief and turned its attention toward
+another problem. Its people planned a great world exposition to
+celebrate the opening of the Panama Canal.
+
+With the close of the Graft trials, San Francisco put its shoulders in
+concerted effort to the wheel. There were rivals now. San Diego claimed
+a prior plan. New Orleans was importuning Congress to support it in an
+Exposition. The Southern city sent its lobbying delegation to the
+Capitol. San Francisco seemed about to lose.
+
+But the city was aroused to one of its outbursts of pioneer energy. The
+Panama-Pacific International Exposition Company was organized. A meeting
+was called at the Merchants' Exchange. There, in two hours, $4,000,000
+was subscribed by local merchants.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XC
+
+THE MEASURE OF REDEMPTION
+
+Frank journeyed East with a party of "Exposition Boosters" after the
+memorable meeting in the Merchants' Exchange. The import of that
+afternoon's work had been flashed around the world. It swung the tide of
+public sentiment from New Orleans toward the Western Coast. Congress
+heard the clink of Power in those millions. President Taft discerned a
+spirit of efficiency that would guarantee success. He did not desire
+another Jamestown fiasco. He had an open admiration for the city which
+in four years could rebuild itself from ashes, suffer staunchly through
+disrupting ordeals of political upheaval and unite its forces in a
+mighty plan to entertain the World.
+
+Frank went to the White House for an interview. He clasped the large,
+firm hand which had guided so many troubled ships of state for the
+Roosevelt regime, looked into the twinkling eyes that hid so keen a
+force behind their kindness. Stanley soon discovered that in this big,
+bluff President his city had a friend.
+
+"What shall I say to the people at home for you, Mr. President? Will you
+give me a message?"
+
+The Chief Executive was thoughtful for an instant. Then he said, "Go
+back, my boy, and tell them this from me, 'SAN FRANCISCO KNOWS HOW!'"
+
+Frank left the White House, eager and enthusiastic; sought a telegraph
+office. On the following day Market street blazed with the slogan.
+
+In New York, where he went from Washington, Frank heard echoes of that
+speech. San Francisco's cause gained new and sudden favor. Frank found
+the Eastern press, which hitherto had favored New Orleans, was veering
+almost imperceptibly toward the Golden Gate.
+
+He met many San Franciscans in New York. John O'Hara Cosgrave was
+editing Everybody's Magazine, "Bob" Davis was at the head of the Munsey
+publications, Edwin Markham wrote world-poetry on Staten Island, "in a
+big house filled with books and mosquitoes," as a friend described it.
+"Bill" and Wallace Irwin were there, the former "batching" in a flat on
+Washington Square. All of them were glad to talk of San Francisco.
+
+Charley Aiken, editor of Sunset Magazine, was with the boosters. Stanley
+met him in New York. He had a plan for buying the publication from its
+railroad sponsors; making it an independent organ of the literary West.
+Things were looking up for San Francisco.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Frank was glad to get back. He had enjoyed his visit to the East. But it
+was mighty good to ride up Market street again. It looked quite as it
+did before the fire. One would have found it difficult to believe that
+this new city with its towering, handsome architecture, had lain, a few
+years back, the shambles of the greatest conflagration history
+has known.
+
+On Christmas eve Frank and Aleta went down town to hear Tetrazzini sing
+in the streets. The famous prima donna faced an audience which numbered
+upward of a hundred thousand. They thronged--a joyous celebrant, dark
+mass--on Market, Geary, Third and Kearny streets. Every window was
+ablaze, alive with silhouetted figures. Frank, who had engaged a window
+in the Monadnock Block, could not get near the entrance. So he and Aleta
+stood in the street.
+
+"It's nicer," she whispered happily, "to be here among the people.... I
+feel closer to them. As if I could sense the big Pulse of Life that
+makes us all brothers and sisters."
+
+Frank looked down at her understandingly, but did not speak. Tetrazzini
+had begun her song. Its first notes floated faintly through the vast and
+unwalled auditorium. Then her voice grew clearer, surer.
+
+Never had those bustling, noisy streets known such a stillness as
+prevailed this night. The pure soprano which had thrilled a world of
+high-priced audiences rang out in a wondrous clarion harmony. It moved
+many people to tears. The response was overwhelming. Something in that
+vast human pack went out to the singer like a tidal wave. Not the
+deafening fusilade of hand-clapping nor the shouted "Bravos!" It was
+something deeper, subtler. Tetrazzini stepped forward. Tears streamed
+from her eyes. She blew impulsive kisses to the crowd.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The pageant of the months went on. A coal merchant by the name of Rolph
+had displaced P.H. McCarthy as Mayor of San Francisco. He had installed
+what was termed "a business administration." San Francisco seemed
+pleased with the result. Power of government had returned to the "North
+of Market Street."
+
+San Francisco had been selected by Congress as the site of the
+exposition. It was scheduled for 1915 and the Panama Canal approached
+completion.
+
+Frank was living with his father at the Press Club. His mother was dead.
+He had given up newspaper work, except for an occasional editorial.
+Through his father's influence he had found publication for a novel. He
+was something of a public man now, despite his comparative youth.
+
+Occasionally he saw his Uncle Robert. Two of his cousins had married.
+The third, an engineer, had gone to Colorado. Robert Windham and his
+wife were planning a year of travel.
+
+Sometimes Windham and his nephew talked of Bertha. It was a calmer, more
+dispassionate talk as time went on, for years blunt every pain. One day
+the former said, with tentative defiance, "I suppose you'll think
+there's something wrong about me, boy.... But I loved her mother deeply.
+Honestly--if one can call it that. If I'd had a certain kind of--well,
+immoral--courage, I'd have married her.... Just think how different all
+our lives would have been. But I hadn't the heart to hurt Maizie; to
+break with her ... nor the courage to give up my position in life. So we
+parted. I didn't know then--"
+
+"That you had a daughter?" questioned Frank. His uncle nodded. "Perhaps
+it would have made a difference ... perhaps not."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Aleta had a week's vacation. They were playing a comedy in which she had
+no part. So she had gone to Carmel to visit her friend Norah France.
+
+Frank decided to look in on them. He had been oddly shaken by the talk
+with his uncle. What tragedies men hid beneath the smooth exteriors of
+successful careers? He had always thought his uncle's home a happy one.
+Doubtless it was--happy enough. Love perhaps was not essential to
+successful unions. Frank wondered why he had not asked Aleta Boice to be
+his wife. They were good comrades, had congenial tastes. They would both
+be better off; less lonely. A sudden, long-forgotten feeling stirred
+within his heart. He had missed Aleta in the past few days. Why not go
+to her now; lay the question before her? Perhaps love might come to
+them both.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XCI
+
+CONCLUSION
+
+For years thereafter Frank was haunted by the wraiths of vain
+conjecture--morbid questionings of what might have occurred if he had
+caught the train for Monterey that afternoon. For he was not to seek
+Aleta at Carmel. An official of the Exposition Company met Frank on the
+street. They talked a shade too long. Frank missed the train by half a
+minute. He shrugged his shoulders petulantly, found his father at the
+club. That evening they attended a comedy.
+
+He was not yet out of bed when the office telephoned him the next
+morning. "Didn't he know Norah France rather well?" the City Editor
+inquired. Frank admitted it sleepily.
+
+Had he a picture of her?
+
+Frank denied this. No. He didn't know where one might be obtained. Had
+Norah printed a poem or something? W-h-a-a-t!
+
+The voice at the telephone repeated its message. "Norah France was found
+dead in her room at Carmel this morning. Suicide probably. Empty vial
+and a letter.... The Carmel authorities haven't come through yet."
+
+Frank began to dress hurriedly. Again the telephone rang. Wire for him.
+Should they send it up? No, he would be down in a minute.
+
+The telegram was from Aleta. It read: "Am returning noon train. See you
+at my apartment six P.M."
+
+Stanley did not see his father in the dining room. He gulped a cup of
+coffee and went down to the office. He had planned an editorial for
+today. But his mind was full of Norah France just now.
+
+Poor child! How she had loved life in her strangely vivid moods! And how
+she had brooded upon its injustice in her alternating tempers of
+depression! He remembered now Aleta's mention of a love affair that
+turned out badly. Aleta had gone down to hearten her friend from these
+dolors. And he recalled, with a desperate, tearing remorse, a
+casual-enough remark of Norah's: "You always cheer me up, Frank, when
+you come to see me."
+
+He recalled, as well, her comment, months before, that she would awake
+from her dream in one way or another. Well, she had fulfilled her
+promise. God grant, he thought passionately, that the awakening had been
+in a happier world.
+
+At six o'clock he went to Aleta's apartment. She had not yet arrived but
+presently she came. He saw that she had been crying. She could
+scarcely speak.
+
+"Frank, let us walk somewhere," she said. "I can't go upstairs; it's too
+full of memories. And I can't sit still. I've got to keep moving--fast."
+
+They strode off together, taking a favorite walk through the Presidio
+toward the Beach. From a hill-top they saw the Exposition buildings
+rising from what once had been a slough.
+
+Aleta paused and looked down.
+
+"It's easier to bear--up here," she spoke in an odd, weary monotone, as
+if she were thinking aloud. "This morning ... I think, if Norah had left
+anything in the bottle ... I'd have taken it, too."
+
+"Why did she do it?" Frank asked quickly.
+
+Aleta faced him. "Norah loved a man ... he wasn't worthy. She could see
+no hope. I wished, Frank, that you might have been there yesterday. You
+used to cheer her so!"
+
+"Don't!" he cried out sharply.
+
+The Exposition progressed marvelously. Often Frank and Aleta climbed
+the winding Presidio ascent and gazed upon its growing wonders.
+
+"Beauty will come out of it all," she said one day. "Out of our travail
+and sorrow and sin. I wish that Norah was here. She loved beauty so!"
+
+"Perhaps she is here.... Who knows?"
+
+She looked at him startled. He was staring off across the Exposition
+site, toward the Golden Gate, where a great ship, all its sails spread,
+swam mysteriously luminous with the sunset.
+
+"It's beautiful," he said, a catch in his voice. "It's like life ...
+coming home in the end ... after long strivings with tempest and wave. I
+wonder--" he turned to her slowly, "Aleta, will it be like that
+with us?"
+
+"Home!" she spoke the word tenderly. "I wonder what it's like ... I've
+never known."
+
+He drew his breath sharply. "Aleta--will you marry me?"
+
+Her eyes filled but she did not answer. Presently she shook her head.
+
+He looked at her dumbly, questioning. "You don't love me, Frank," she
+said at last.
+
+He could not answer her. His eyes were on the ground. A hundred thoughts
+came to his mind; thoughts of an almost overwhelming tenderness;
+thoughts of reverence for her; of affection, comradeship. But they were
+not the right thoughts. They were not what she wanted.
+
+Presently they turned and went toward the town together.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A Fairyland of gardens and lagoons sprung into existence. Great artists
+labored with a kind of beauty-madness in its making. Nine years after
+San Francisco lay in ashes its doors opened to the world. From Ruins had
+grown a Great Dream, one so beautiful and strong, it seemed unreal.
+
+Aleta and Frank went often. To them the Exposition was a rhapsody of
+silent music and they seldom broke its harmonies with speech.
+
+Frank had not recurred to the question he had asked on Presidio Hill.
+But out of it had come an unspoken compact, a comradeship of spirit that
+was very sweet.
+
+They stood one day on the margin of Fine Arts Lagoon, gazing down at the
+marvelous reflections of the great dome and its pillared colonnade.
+"Frank," the girl said almost in a whisper, "I believe that Love is
+God's heart, beating, beating ... through the Whole of Life." He turned
+and saw that her eyes were radiant. "And I think that when we feel its
+rhythm in us, it's like a call. A call to--"
+
+"What?" he asked abashed.
+
+"Service.... Frank," she faced him questioningly, half fearful. "You'll
+forgive me, won't you? I--I'm going away."
+
+She expected protest, exclamation. Instead he asked her, very quietly:
+"To Europe, Aleta? The Red Cross?"
+
+"Yes," she said, surprised. "How did you know?"
+
+"I--I'm going, myself. As a stretcher bearer."
+
+"Then--" her eyes were stars, "you've felt it, too?"
+
+He nodded.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the deck of an outbound steamer stood two figures. The sky was gray.
+Drifts of fog hung plume-like over Alcatraz, veiled the Exposition domes
+and turrets in a mystic glory. Sometimes it was like a great white
+nothingness; then, as if by magic, Color, Forms and Beauty leaped forth
+like some startling vision from a Land of Make Believe.
+
+The woman at the stern-rail stretched forth her arms. "Goodbye," her
+words were like a song, a song of heartbreak, mixed with exultation.
+"Goodbye, Oh my City of Dreams!"
+
+"We will come back," said the man shakily. "We will come with new peace
+in our hearts."
+
+"Perhaps," she replied, "but it will not matter. San Francisco will go
+on, big, generous, unafraid in its sins and virtues. Oh, Frank, I love
+it, don't you? I want it to be the greatest city in the world!"
+
+He made no answer but he caught her hand and pressed it. The fog came
+down about them like a mantle and shut them in.
+
+
+
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+<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN">
+<html>
+<head>
+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1">
+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Port O' Gold, by Louis John Stellman</title>
+<style type="text/css">
+    <!--
+    P {  margin-top: .75em;
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+         margin-left: 15%;
+         margin-right: 15%;}
+    .loc {text-align: right;
+          margin-right: 20%}
+    .poem             {margin-left:20%; margin-right:20%; text-align: left;}
+    .poem .stanza     {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;}
+    .poem p           {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem p.i1        {margin-left: 1em;}
+    .poem p.i2        {margin-left: 2em;}
+    .poem p.i3        {margin-left: 3em;}
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+    .poem p.i5        {margin-left: 5em;}
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+<body>
+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Port O' Gold, by Louis John Stellman</h1>
+<pre>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: Port O' Gold</p>
+<p>Author: Louis John Stellman</p>
+<p>Release Date: June 8, 2004  [eBook #12560]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: iso-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PORT O' GOLD***</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<center><h3>E-text prepared by Charlie Kirschner<br>
+            and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team</h3></center>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr class="full" noshade>
+<br>
+<br>
+<a name="frontispiece.jpg"></a>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" width="75%" alt=
+""><br>
+<b>As they looked the sunlight triumphed, scattering the fog into
+queer floating shapes, luminous and fraught with weird
+suggestions.... One might have thought a splendid city lay before
+them, ... impalpable, yet triumphant, with its hint of
+destiny.</b></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h1>PORT O' GOLD</h1>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<h3>A HISTORY-ROMANCE OF THE<br>
+SAN FRANCISCO ARGONAUTS</h3>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<h2>LOUIS J. STELLMAN</h2>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/002.jpg" width="100" alt=""></p>
+<h4>1922</h4>
+<br>
+<br>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>TO THE CITY OF MY ADOPTION AND REBIRTH</p>
+<p class="i6">SAN FRANCISCO</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Oft from my window have I seen the day</p>
+<p>Break o'er thy roofs and towers like a dream</p>
+<p>In mystic silver, mirrored by the Bay,</p>
+<p>Bedecked with shadow craft ... and then a gleam</p>
+<p>Of golden sunlight cleaving swiftly sure</p>
+<p>Some narrow cloud-rift--limning hill or plain</p>
+<p>With flecks of gypsy-radiance that endure</p>
+<p>But for the moment and are gone again.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Then I have ventured on thy strident streets,</p>
+<p>Mid whir of traffic in the vibrant hour</p>
+<p>When Commerce with its clashing cymbal greets</p>
+<p>The mighty Mammon in his pomp of power....</p>
+<p>And in the quiet dusk of eventide,</p>
+<p>As wearied toilers quit the marts of Trade,</p>
+<p>Have I been of their pageant--or allied</p>
+<p>With Passion's revel in the Night Parade.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Oh, I have known thee in a thousand moods</p>
+<p>And lived a thousand lives within thy bounds;</p>
+<p>Adventured with the throng that laughs or broods,</p>
+<p>Trod all thy cloisters and thy pleasure grounds,</p>
+<p>Seen thee, in travail from the fiery torch,</p>
+<p>Betrayed by Greed, smirched by thy sons' disgrace--</p>
+<p>Rise with a spirit that no flame can scorch</p>
+<p>To make thyself a new and honored place.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah, Good Gray City! Let me sing thy song</p>
+<p>Of western splendor, vigorous and bold;</p>
+<p>In vice or virtue unashamed and strong--</p>
+<p>Stormy of mien but with a heart of gold!</p>
+<p>I love thee, San Francisco; I am proud</p>
+<p>Of all thy scars and trophies, praise or blame</p>
+<p>And from thy wind-swept hills I cry aloud</p>
+<p>The everlasting glory of thy name.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>PREFACE</h2>
+<br>
+<p>This is the story of San Francisco. When a newspaper editor
+summoned me from the mountains to write a serial he said:</p>
+<p>"I've sent for you because I believe you love this city more
+than any other writer of my acquaintance or knowledge. And I
+believe the true story of San Francisco will make a more dramatic,
+vivid, human narrative than any fiction I've ever read.</p>
+<p>"Take all the time you want. Get everything straight, and <i>put
+all you've got into this story</i>. I'm going to wake up the town
+with it."</p>
+<p>To the best of my ability, I followed the editor's instructions.
+He declared himself satisfied. The public responded generously. The
+serial was a success.</p>
+<p>But, ah! I wish I might have written it much better ... or that
+Robert Louis Stevenson, for instance, might have done it in my
+stead.</p>
+<p>"Port O' Gold" is history with a fiction thread to string its
+episodes upon. Most of the characters are men and women who have
+lived and played their parts exactly as described herein. The
+background and chronology are as accurate as extensive and
+painstaking research can make them.</p>
+<p>People have informed me that my fictional characters, vide
+Benito, "took hold of them" more than the "real ones" ... which is
+natural enough, perhaps, since they are my own brain-children,
+while the others are merely adopted. Nor is this anything to be
+deplored. The writer, after all, is first an entertainer.
+Indirectly he may edify, inform or teach. My only claim is that
+I've tried to tell the story of the city that I love as truly and
+attractively as I was able. My only hope is that I have been worthy
+of the task.</p>
+<p>Valuable aid in the accumulation of historical data for this
+volume was given by:</p>
+<p>Robert Rea, librarian, San Francisco Public Library;</p>
+<p>Mary A. Byrne, manager Reference Department, San Francisco
+Public Library;</p>
+<p>John Howell and John J. Newbegin, booksellers and collectors of
+Californiana, for whose cheerful interest and many courtesies the
+author is sincerely grateful.</p>
+<p class="loc">THE AUTHOR.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+<center><a href="#CHAPTER_I">I Yerba Buena.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_II">II The Gambled Patrimony.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_III">III The Gringo Ships.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV American Occupation.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_V">V An Offer and a Threat.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI The First Election.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII The Rancheros Revolt.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII McTurpin's Coup.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">IX The Elopement.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_X">X Hull "Capitulates".</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">XI San Francisco is Named.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">XII The New York Volunteers.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">XIII The "Sydney Ducks".</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">XIV The Auction on the Beach.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">XV The Beginning of Law.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">XVI Gold! Gold! Gold!</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">XVII The Quest of Fortune.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">XVIII News of Benito.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">XIX The Veiled Woman.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">XX A Call in the Night.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">XXI Outfacing the Enemy.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">XXII Shots in the Dark.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">XXIII The New Arrival.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">XXIV The Chaos of '49.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">XXV Retrieving a Birthright.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">XXVI Fire! Fire! Fire!</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">XXVII Politics and a Warning.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">XXVIII On the Trail of McTurpin.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">XXIX The Squatter Conspiracy.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">XXX "Growing Pains".</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">XXXI The Vigilance Committee.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">XXXII The People's Jury.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">XXXIII The Reckoning.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">XXXIV The Hanging of Jenkins.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">XXXV The People and the Law.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">XXXVI Fevers of Finance.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">XXXVII "Give Us Our Savings".</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">XXXVIII King Starts the
+Bulletin.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">XXXIX Richardson and Cora.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XL">XL The Storm Gathers.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLI">XLI The Fateful Encounter.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLII">XLII The Committee Organizes.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIII">XLIII Governor Johnson Mediates.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIV">XLIV The Truce is Broken.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLV">XLV The Committee Strikes.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVI">XLVI Retribution.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVII">XLVII Hints of Civil War.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVIII">XLVIII Sherman Resigns.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIX">XLIX Terry Stabs Hopkins.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_L">L The Committee Disbands.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LI">LI Senator Broderick.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LII">LII A Trip to Chinatown.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LIII">LIII Enter Po Lun.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LIV">LIV The "Field of Honor".</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LV">LV The Southern Plot.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LVI">LVI Some War Reactions.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LVII">LVII Waters Pays the Price.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LVIII">LVIII McTurpin Turns Informer.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LIX">LIX The Comstock Furore.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LX">LX The Shattered Bubble.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXI">LXI Desperate Finance.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXII">LXII Adolph Sutro's Tunnel.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXIII">LXIII Lees Solves a Mystery.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXIV">LXIV An Idol Topples.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXV">LXV Industrial Unrest.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXVI">LXVI The Pick-Handle Parade.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXVII">LXVII Dennis Kearney.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXVIII">LXVIII The Woman Reporter.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXIX">LXIX A New Generation.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXX">LXX Robert and Maizie.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXI">LXXI The Blind Boss.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXII">LXXII Fate Takes a Hand.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXIII">LXXIII The Return.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXIV">LXXIV The "Reformer".</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXV">LXXV A Nocturnal Adventure.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXVI">LXXVI Politics and Romance.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXVII">LXXVII Aleta's Problem.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXVIII">LXXVIII The Fateful Morn.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXIX">LXXIX The Turmoil.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXX">LXXX Aftermath.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXXI">LXXXI Readjustment.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXXII">LXXXII At Bay.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXXIII">LXXXIII In the Toils.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXXIV">LXXXIV The Net Closes.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXXV">LXXXV The Seven Plagues.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXXVI">LXXXVI A New City Government.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXXVII">LXXXVII Norah Finds Out.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXXVIII">LXXXVIII The Shooting of Heney.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LXXXIX">LXXXIX Defeat of the Prosecution.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XC">XC The Measure of Redemption.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XCI">XCI Conclusion.</a></center>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+<p><a href="#frontispiece.jpg">As they looked, the sunlight
+triumphed, scattering the fog into queer, floating shapes, luminous
+and fraught with weird suggestions.... One might have thought a
+splendid city lay before them, ... impalpable, yet triumphant, with
+its hint of destiny. <i>Frontispiece</i>.</a></p>
+<p><a href="#page044.jpg">"Ah, Senor," Inez' smile had faded, ...
+"they have cause for hatred".</a></p>
+<p><a href="#page084.jpg">Men with shovels, leveling the
+sand-hills, piled the wagons high with shimmering grains which were
+... dumped into pile-surrounded bogs. San Francisco reached farther
+and farther out into the bay.</a></p>
+<p><a href="#page088.jpg">Samuel Brannan rode through the streets,
+holding a pint flask of gold-dust in one hand ... and whooping like
+a madman: "Gold! Gold! Gold! From the American River".</a></p>
+<p><a href="#page122.jpg">Passersby who laughed at the inscription
+witnessed simultaneously the rescue of an almost submerged donkey
+by means of an improvised derrick.</a></p>
+<p><a href="#page130.jpg">Broderick's commanding figure was seen
+rushing hither and thither.... "You and two others. Blow up or pull
+down that building," he indicated a sprawling, ramshackle
+structure.</a></p>
+<p><a href="#page182.jpg">There sat the redoubtable captain, all
+the ... austerity of his West Point manner melted in the indignity
+of sneezes and wheezes.... "Money! God Almighty! Sherman, there's
+not a loose dollar in town".</a></p>
+<p><a href="#page200.jpg">"Draw and defend yourself," he said
+loudly. He shut his eyes and a little puff of smoke seemed to
+spring from the end of his fingers, followed ... by a sharp
+report.</a></p>
+<p><a href="#page224.jpg">In front of the building on a high
+platform, two men stood.... A half-suppressed roar went up from the
+throng.</a></p>
+<p><a href="#page260.jpg">Terry, who had taken careful aim, now
+fired. Broderick staggered, recovered himself. Slowly he sank to
+one knee.</a></p>
+<p><a href="#page268.jpg">The concourse broke into applause. Then
+it was hysteria, pandemonium. Fifty thousand knew their city was
+safe for Anti-Slavery.</a></p>
+<p><a href="#page308.jpg">Half a thousand jobless workers, armed
+and reckless, marched toward the docks. They bore torches.... "A
+hell-bent crew," said Ellis.</a></p>
+<p><a href="#page330.jpg">"My boy ... you're wasting your time as a
+reporter. Listen," he laid a hand upon Francisco's knee. "I've a
+job for you.... The new Mayor will need a secretary".</a></p>
+<p><a href="#page342.jpg">"Perhaps I shall find me a man--big,
+strong, impressive--with a mind easily led.... Then I shall train
+him to be a leader.... I shall furnish the brain".</a></p>
+<p><a href="#page374.jpg">"I am going South," Francisco told his
+son. "I cannot bear this".</a></p>
+<p><a href="#page388.jpg">All at once he stepped forward.... Tears
+were streaming down his face. Then the judge's question, clearly
+heard, "What is your plea?" "Guilty!" Ruef returned.</a></p>
+<h3>A HISTORY-ROMANCE OF THE<br>
+SAN FRANCISCO ARGONAUTS</h3>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>PROLOGUE</h2>
+<h3>THE VISION</h3>
+<br>
+<p>"Blessed be the Saints. It is the Punta de Los Reyes." The
+speaker was a bearded man of middle years. A certain nobleness
+about him like an ermine garment of authority was purely of the
+spirit, for he was neither of imposing height nor of commanding
+presence. His clothing hung about him loosely and recent illness
+had drawn haggard lines upon his face. But his eyes flashed like an
+eagle's, and the hand which pointed northward, though it trembled,
+had the fine dramatic grace of one who leads in its imperious
+gesture. He swept from his head the once magnificent hat with its
+scarred velour and windtorn plume, bending one knee in a movement
+of silent reverence and thanksgiving. This was Gaspar de Portola,
+October 31,1769.</p>
+<p>Near him stood his aides. All of them were travel-stained,
+careworn with hardship and fatigue. Following their chieftain they
+uncovered and knelt. To one side and a little below the apex of a
+rocky promontory that contained the little group, Christian
+Indians, muleteers and soldados crossed themselves and looked up
+questioningly. In a dozen litters sick men tossed and moaned. A
+mule brayed raucously, startling flocks of wild geese to flight
+from nearby cliffs, a herd of deer on a mad stampede inland.</p>
+<p>Portola rose and swept the horizon with his half-fevered gaze.
+To the south lay the rugged shore line with its sea-corroded
+cliffs, indented at one point into a half-moon of glistening beach
+and sweeping on again into vanishing and reappearing shapes of
+mist.</p>
+<p>Far to the northwest a giant arm of land reached out into the
+water, high and stark and rocky; further on a group of white
+farallones lay in the tossing foam and over them great flocks of
+seabirds dipped and circled. Finally, along the coast to the
+northward, they descried those chalk cliffs which Francis Drake had
+aptly named New Albion, and still beyond, what seemed to be the
+mouth of an inlet.</p>
+<p>Dispute sprang up among them. Since July 14th they had been
+searching between this place and San Diego for the port of
+Monterey. "Perhaps this is the place," said Crespi, the priest,
+reluctantly. "Vizcaino may have been amiss when he located it in 37
+degrees."</p>
+<p>"Yes," spoke Captain Fernando de Rivera, "these explorers are
+careless dogs. One seldom finds the places they map out so gaily.
+And what do they care who dies of the hunger or scurvy--drinking
+their flagons in Mexico or Madrid? A curse, say I, on the lot of
+them."</p>
+<p>Portola turned an irritated glance of disapproval on his
+henchmen. "What say you, my pathfinder?" he addressed Sergeant Jose
+Ortega, chief of Scouts.</p>
+<p>"That no one may be certain, your excellency," the scout-chief
+answered. "But," his eyes met those of his commander with a look of
+grim significance, "one may learn."</p>
+<p>Portola laid a hand almost affectionately on the other's
+leather-covered shoulder. Here was a man after his heart. Always he
+had been ahead of the van, selecting camp sites, clearing ways
+through impenetrable brush, fighting off hostile savages. Now, ill
+and hungry as he was, for rations had for several days been down to
+four tortillas per man, Ortega was ready to set forth again.</p>
+<p>"You had better rest, Saldado. You are far from well. Start
+to-morrow."</p>
+<p>Ortega shrugged. "Meanwhile they mutter," his eyes jerked to the
+indiscriminate company below.</p>
+<p>"When men march and have a motive, they forget their grievances.
+When they lie in camp the devil stalks about and puts mischief into
+their thought. I have been a soldier for fourteen years, your
+excellency."</p>
+<p>"And I for thirty," said the other dryly, but he smiled. "You
+are right, my sergeant. Go. And may your patron saint, the reverend
+father of Assisi, aid you."</p>
+<p>Ortega saluted and withdrew. "I will require three days with
+your excellency's grace," he said. Portola nodded and observed
+Ortega's sharp commands wheel a dozen mounted soldados into line.
+They galloped past him, their lances at salute and dashed with a
+clatter of hoofs into the valley below.</p>
+<p>Young Francisco Garvez spurred his big mare forward till he rode
+beside the sergeant. A tall, half-lanky lad he was with the eager
+prescience of youth, its dreams and something of its shyness hidden
+in the dark alertness of his mien.</p>
+<p>"Whither now, my sergeant?" he inquired with a trace of pertness
+as he laid a hand upon the other's pommel. "Do we search again for
+that elusive Monterey? Methinks Vizcaino dreamed it in his cups."
+He smiled, a flash of strong, white teeth relieving the half-weary
+relaxation of his features, and Ortega turning, answered him:</p>
+<p>"Perhaps the good St. Francis hid it from our eyes--that we
+might first discover this puerto christened in his honor. We have
+three days to reach the Punta de los Reyes, which Vizcaino named
+for the kings of Cologne."</p>
+<p>For a time the two rode on in silence. Then young Garvez
+muttered: "It is well for Portola that your soldados love you....
+Else the expedition had not come thus far." The sergeant looked at
+his companion smolderingly, but he did not speak. He knew as well
+as anyone that the Governor's life was in danger; that conspiracy
+was in the air. And it was for this he had taken with him all the
+stronger malcontents. Yes, they loved him--whatever treachery might
+have brooded in their minds. His eyes kindled with the knowledge.
+He led them at a good pace forward over hill and dale, through
+rough and briery undergrowth, fording here and there a stream,
+spurring tired horses over spans of dragging sand until darkness
+made further progress impossible. But with the break of day he was
+on again after a scanty meal. Just at sunrise he led his party up
+to a commanding headland where he paused to rest. His winded mount
+and that of Garvez panted side by side upon the crest while his
+troopers, single file, picked their way up the narrow trail. Below
+them was the Bay of San Francisco guarded by the swirling narrows
+of the Golden Gate. And over the brown hilltops of the Contra Costa
+a great golden ball of sunlight battled with the lacy mists of
+dawn.</p>
+<p>It was a picture to impress one with its mystery and
+magnificence. The two men gazed upon it with an oddly blended sense
+of awe and exultation. And as they looked the sunlight triumphed,
+scattering the fog into queer floating shapes, luminous and fraught
+with weird suggestions of castle, dome, of turret, minaret and
+towering spire. One might have thought a splendid city lay before
+them in the barren cove of sand-dunes, a city impalpable, yet
+triumphant, with its hint of destiny; translucent silver and gold,
+shifting and amazing--gone in a flash as the sun's full radiance
+burst forth through the vapor-screen.</p>
+<p>"It was like a sign from Heaven!" Garvez breathed.</p>
+<p>Ortega crossed himself. The younger man went on, "Something like
+a voice within me seemed to say 'Here shall you find your home--you
+and your children and their children's children.'"</p>
+<p>Ortega looked down at the dawn-gold on the waters and the
+tree-ringed cove. Here and there small herds of deer drank from a
+stream or browsed upon the scant verdure of sandy meadows. In a
+distant grove a score of Indian tepees raised their cone shapes to
+the sky; lazy plumes of blue-white smoke curled upward. Canoes,
+rafts of tules, skillfully bound together, carried dark-skinned
+natives over wind-tossed waters, the ends of their double paddles
+flashing in the sun.</p>
+<p>"One may not know the ways of God." Ortega spoke a trifle
+bruskly. "What is plain to me is that we cannot journey farther.
+This estero cuts our path in two. And in three days we cannot
+circle it to reach the Contra Costa. We must return and make report
+to the commander."</p>
+<p>He wheeled and shouted a command to his troopers. The cavalcade
+rode south but young Francisco turning in the saddle cast a
+farewell glance toward the shining bay. "Port O' Gold!" he
+whispered raptly, "some day men shall know your fame around the
+world!"</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h1>PORT O' GOLD</h1>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2>
+<h3>YERBA BUENA</h3>
+<br>
+<p>It was 1845. Three quarters of a century had passed since young
+Francisco Garvez, as he rode beside Portola's chief of Scouts,
+glimpsed the mystic vision of a city rising from the sandy shores
+of San Francisco Bay.</p>
+<p>Garvez, so tradition held, had taken for his spouse an Indian
+maiden educated by the mission padres of far San Diego. For his
+service as soldado of old Spain he had been granted many acres near
+the Mission of Dolores and his son, through marriage, had combined
+this with another large estate. There a second generation of the
+Garvez family had looked down from a palatial hacienda upon
+spreading grain-fields, wide-reaching pastures and corrals of
+blooded stock. They had seen the Mission era wax and wane and
+Mexico cast off the governmental shackles of Madrid. They had
+looked askance upon the coming of the "Gringo" and Francisco Garvez
+II, in the feebleness of age, had railed against the destiny that
+gave his youngest daughter to a Yankee engineer. He had bade her
+choose between allegiance to an honored race and exile with one
+whom he termed an unknown, alien interloper. But in the end he had
+forgiven, when she chose, as is the wont of women, Love's eternal
+path. Thus the Garvez rancho, at his death became the Windham ranch
+and there dwelt Dona Anita with her children Inez and Benito, for
+her husband, "Don Roberto" Windham lingered with an engineering
+expedition in the wilds of Oregon.</p>
+<p>Just nineteen was young Benito, straight and slim, combining in
+his fledgling soul the austere heritage of Anglo-Saxons with the
+leaping fires of Castile. Fondly, yet with something anxious in her
+glance, his mother watched the boy as he sprang nimbly to the
+saddle of his favorite horse. He was like her husband, strong and
+self-reliant. Yet,--she sighed involuntarily with the thought,--he
+had much of the manner of her handsome and ill-fated brother, Don
+Diego, victim of a duel that had followed cards and wine.</p>
+<p>"Why so troubled, madre mia?" The little hand of Inez stole into
+her mother's reassuringly. "Is it that you fear for our Benito when
+he rides among the Gringos of the puebla?"</p>
+<p>Her dark crowned and exquisite head rose proudly and her eyes
+flashed as she watched her brother riding with the grace of
+splendid horsemanship toward the distant town of Yerba Buena. "He
+can take care of himself," she ended with, a toss of her head.</p>
+<p>"To be sure, my little one," the Dona Windham answered smiling.
+No doubt it was a foolish apprehension she decided. If only the
+Dona Briones who lived on a ranchita near the bay-shore did not
+gossip so of the Americano games of chance. And if only she might
+know what took Benito there so frequently.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Benito spurred his horse toward the puebla. A well-filled purse
+jingled in his pocket and now and then he tossed a silver coin to
+some importuning Indian along the road. As he passed the little
+ranch-house of Dona Briones he waved his hat gaily in answer to her
+invitation to stop. Benito called her Tia Juana. Large and motherly
+she was, a woman of untiring energy who, all alone cultivated the
+ranchito which supplied milk, butter, eggs and vegetables to ships
+which anchored in the cove of Yerba Buena. She was the friend of
+all sick and unfortunate beings, the secret ally of deserting
+sailors whom she often hid from searching parties. Benito was her
+special favorite and now she sighed and shook her head as he rode
+on. She had heard of his losses at the gringo game called
+"pokkere." She mistrusted it together with all other alien
+machinations.</p>
+<p>Benito reached the little hamlet dreaming in the sun, a welter
+of scrambled habitations. There was the little ship's cabin, called
+Kent Hall, where dwelt that genial spirit, Nathan Spear, his
+father's friend. Nearby was the dwelling, carpenter and blacksmith
+shop of Calvert Davis; the homes of Victor Pruden, French savant
+and secretary to Governor Alvarado; Thompson the hide trader who
+married Concepcion Avila, reigning beauty of her day; Stephen
+Smith, pioneer saw-miller, who brought the first pianos to
+California.</p>
+<p>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.</p>
+<p>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.</p>
+<p>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:</p>
+<p>"How fares it at the ranch, Camerado?"</p>
+<p>"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."</p>
+<p>"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."</p>
+<p>Benito turned an almost furtive glance on his companion. "Not
+yet," ... he answered hastily, "a thousand pardons, senor. I have
+other errands here."</p>
+<p>He nodded half impatiently and made his way along the
+embarcadero. Spear saw him turn into the drinking place of
+Cooper.</p>
+<p>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.</p>
+<p>"I've no authority," Spear answered shortly. He turned his back
+upon the other and strode toward the plaza.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2>
+<h3>THE GAMBLED PATRIMONY</h3>
+<br>
+<p>The stranger took his way toward the waterfront and into "Jack
+the Sailor's." Cooper, who had earned this nickname, stood behind a
+counter of rough boards polishing its top with a much soiled towel.
+He hailed the newcomer eagerly. "Hello, Alvin Potts! What brought
+you here? And how is all at Monterey?"</p>
+<p>"All's well enough," said Potts, concisely. He glanced about.
+Several crude structures, scarcely deserving the name of tables,
+were centers of interest for rings of rough and ill-assorted men.
+There were loud-voiced, bearded fellows from the whaler's crew. In
+tarpaulins and caps pulled low upon their brows; swarthy Russians
+with oily, brutish faces and slow movements--relics of the
+abandoned colony at Fort Ross; suave, soft-spoken Spaniards in
+broad-brimmed hats, braided short coats and laced trousers tucked
+into shining boots; vaqueros with colored handkerchiefs about their
+heads and sashes around their middles. A few Americans were
+sprinkled here and there. Usually one player at each table was of
+the sleek and graceful type, which marks the gambler. And usually
+he was the winner. Now and then a man threw down his cards, pushed
+a little pile of money to the center of the table and shuffled out.
+Cooper passed between them, serving tall, black bottles from which
+men poured their potions according to impulse; they did not drink
+in unison. Each player snatched a liquid stimulus when the need
+arose. And one whose shaky nerves required many of these spurs was
+young Benito.</p>
+<p>Potts observed the pale face and the hectic, burning eyes with a
+frowning disapproval. Presently he drew John Cooper to one
+side.</p>
+<p>"He's no business here, that lad ... you know it, Jack," Potts
+said, accusingly. The saloon keeper threw wide his arms in a
+significant gesture.</p>
+<p>"He won't stay away ... I've told him half a dozen times. No one
+can reason with that headstrong fool."</p>
+<p>"Who's that he's playing with?" asked Potts. "I mean the dark
+one with a scar."</p>
+<p>An impressive and outstanding figure was the man Potts
+designated. Stocky, sinister of eye and with a mouth whose
+half-sardonic smile drew the lips a little out of line, he combed
+his thick black hair now and then with delicate, long-fingered
+hands. They had a deftness and a lightning energy, those fingers
+with their perfectly groomed nails, which boded little good to his
+opponents. He sat back calmly in strange contrast to the feverish
+uncontrol of other players. Now and then he flashed a swift glance
+round the circle of his fellow players. Before him was a heap of
+gold and silver. They watched him deal with the uncanny skill of a
+conjurer before Jack Cooper answered.</p>
+<p>"That's Aleck McTurpin from Australia. Thought you knew
+him."</p>
+<p>"One of the Sydney coves?"</p>
+<p>"Not quite so loud," the other cautioned hastily. "They call him
+that--behind his back. But who's to tell? I'd like to get the lad
+out of his clutches well enough."</p>
+<p>"Think I'll watch the game," Potts said, and sauntered to the
+table. He laid a friendly hand on Windham's shoulder. Benito's pile
+of coin was nearly gone. McTurpin dealt. It was a jack-pot,
+evidently, for a heavy stake of gold and silver was upon the center
+of the board. Benito's hand shook as he raised his cards. He
+reached forth and refilled his glass, gulping the contents
+avidly.</p>
+<p>"Dos cartos," he replied in Spanish to the dealer's inquiry.
+Potts glanced at the three cards which Benito had retained. Each
+was a king.</p>
+<p>The young man eyed his first draw with a slight frown and seemed
+to hesitate before he lifted up the second. Then a little sucking
+gasp came from his throat.</p>
+<p>"Senor," he began as McTurpin eyed him curiously, "I have little
+left to wager. Luck has been my enemy of late. Yet," he smiled a
+trembling little smile, "I hold certain cards which give me
+confidence. I should like to play a big stake--once, before I
+leave--"</p>
+<p>"How big?" asked McTurpin, coldly, but his eye was eager.</p>
+<p>The Spanish-American faced him straightly. "As big as you like,
+amigo ... if you will accept my note."</p>
+<p>McTurpin's teeth shut with a click. "What security, young
+fellow?" he demanded.</p>
+<p>"My ranch," replied Benito. "It is worth, they say, ten thousand
+of your dollars."</p>
+<p>McTurpin covered his cards with his hands. "You want to lay me
+this ranch against--what?"</p>
+<p>"Five thousand dollars--that is fair enough," Benito answered.
+He was trembling with excitement. McTurpin watched him hawk-like,
+seeming to consider. "Bring us ink and paper, Jack," he called to
+Cooper, and when the latter had complied, he wrote some half a
+dozen lines upon a sheet.</p>
+<p>"Sign that. Get two witnesses ... you, Jack, and this fellow
+here," he indicated Potts imperiously. He laid his cards face down
+upon the table and extracted deftly from some inner pocket a thick
+roll of greenbacks. Slowly, almost meticulously, he counted them
+before the gaping tableful of players. Fifty hundred-dollar
+bills.</p>
+<p>"American greenbacks," he spoke crisply. "A side bet with our
+friend, the Senor Windham." He shoved the money toward the center
+of the table, slightly apart from the rest.</p>
+<p>Benito waveringly picked up the pen. It shook in his unsteady
+fingers. "Wait," Potts pleaded. But the young man brooked no
+intervention. With a flourish he affixed his signature. McTurpin
+picked up the pen as Benito dropped it. "Put your name on as a
+witness," he demanded of the host. "Jack the Sailor" shook his
+head. "I've no part in this," he said, and turned his back upon
+them. "Nor I," Potts answered to a similar invitation.</p>
+<p>McTurpin took the paper. "Well, it doesn't matter. You've all
+seen him sign it: You ... and you ... and you." His finger pointed
+to a trio of the nearest players, and their nods sufficed him,
+evidently. He weighted the contract with a gold-piece from his own
+plethoric pile.</p>
+<p>"Show down! Show down!" cried the others. Triumphantly Benito
+laid five cards upon the table. Four of them were kings. A little
+cry of satisfaction arose, for sympathy was with the younger
+player. McTurpin sat unmoved. Then he threw an ace upon the table.
+Followed it with a second. Then a third. And, amid wondering
+murmurs, a fourth.</p>
+<p>He reached out his hand for the stakes. Benito sat quite still.
+The victorious light had gone out of his eyes, but not a muscle
+moved. One might have thought him paralyzed or turned to stone by
+his misfortune. McTurpin's hand closed almost stealthily upon the
+paper. There was a smile of cool and calculating satisfaction on
+his thin lips as he drew the stake toward him.</p>
+<p>Then with an electrifying suddenness, Benito sprang upon him.
+"Cheat!" he screamed. "You fleeced me like a robber. I knew. I
+understood it when you looked at me like that."</p>
+<p>Quick as McTurpin was in parrying attack--for he had frequent
+need of such defense--the onslaught of Benito found him unprepared.
+He went over backward, the young man's fingers on his throat. From
+the overturned table money rattled to the floor and rolled into
+distant corners. Hastily the non-combatants sought a refuge from
+expected bullets. But no pistol barked. McTurpin's strength far
+overmatched that of the other. Instantly he was on his feet.
+Benito's second rush was countered by a blow upon the jaw. The boy
+fell heavily.</p>
+<p>McTurpin smoothed his ruffled plumage and picked up the
+scattered coins. "Take the young idiot home," he said across his
+shoulder, as he strode out. "Pour a little whisky down his throat.
+He isn't hurt."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2>
+<h3>THE GRINGO SHIPS</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Government was but a name in Yerba Buena. A gringo engineer
+named Fremont with a rabble of adventurers had overthrown the
+valiant Vallejo at Sonora and declared a California Republic. He
+had spiked the cannon at the Presidio. And now a gringo
+sloop-of-war was in the bay, some said with orders to reduce the
+port. Almost simultaneously an English frigate came and there were
+rumors of a war between the Anglo-Saxon nations.</p>
+<p>The prefect, Don Rafael Pinto, had already joined the fleeing
+Governor Castro. Commandante Francisco Sanchez, having sent his
+soldiers to augment the Castro forces in the south, was without a
+garrison and had retired to his rancho.</p>
+<p>Nevertheless, had the Senora Windham, with her son and daughter,
+called upon Sub-prefect Guerrero in hope of justice. Her rancho was
+being taken from her. Already McTurpin had pre-empted a portion of
+the grant and only the armed opposition of the Windham vaqueros
+prevented an entire dispossession.</p>
+<p>Though Guerrero listened, courteous and punctilious, he had
+obviously no power to afford relief. He was a curiously nervous man
+of polished manners whose eyelids twitched at intervals with a sort
+of slow St. Vitus' dance.</p>
+<p>"What can I do, Senora?" with a blend of whimsicality and
+desperation. "I am an official without a staff. And Sanchez a
+commander stripped of his soldados." He stepped to the door with
+them and looked down upon the dancing, rippling waters of the bay,
+where two ships rode.</p>
+<p>"Let these gringos fight it out together. This McTurpin is an
+Inglese, I am told, from their far colony across the sea. If the
+Americanos triumph take your claim to them. If not, God save you,
+my senora. I cannot."</p>
+<p>Don Guillermo Richardson, the former harbormaster, came up the
+hill as Dona Anita emerged from the Alcalde's office. He was a
+friend of her husband--a gringo--but trusted by the Spanish
+Californians, many of whom he had befriended. To him Mrs. Windham
+turned half desperately, confessing in a rush of words her family's
+plight. "What is to become of us?" she questioned passionately.
+"Ah, that my Roberto were here! He would know how to deal with
+these desperadoes." She gestured angrily toward the sloop-of-war
+which rode at anchor in the Bay.</p>
+<p>"You have nothing to fear, my friend," returned Richardson with
+a trace of asperity. "Commodore Sloat is a gentleman. He is, I
+understand, to seize Monterey and raise the the American flag there
+tomorrow. Yet his instructions are that Californians are to be
+shown every courtesy."</p>
+<p>"And our rancho?" cried the boy. "Will the Americano Capitan
+restore it to us, think you, Don Guillermo?"</p>
+<p>"I know not," said the other sadly. "You should have thought of
+that before you gambled it away, my son."</p>
+<p>Benito hung his head. Richardson passed on and the trio made
+their way toward the beach. There they found Nathan Spear in
+excited converse with John Cooper and William Leidesdorff.</p>
+<p>They were discussing the probability of an occupation by the
+American marines. "If they come ashore," said Leidesdorff, "I'll
+invite them to my new house. There's plenty of rum for all, and
+we'll drink a toast to Fremont and the California Republic as
+well."</p>
+<p>"Hurrah! Hurrah!" came a cheer from several bystanders.</p>
+<p>"I invite you all," cried Leidesdorff, waving his hands and
+almost dancing in his eagerness. "Every man-jack of you in all
+Yerba Buena."</p>
+<p>"How about the ladies, Leidesdorff?" called out a sailor.</p>
+<p>"Ah, forgive me, Senora, Senorita!" cried the Dane remorsefully.
+He swept off his wide-brimmed hat with an effort, for he had a
+fashion of jamming it very tightly upon his head. He laid a hand
+enthusiastically upon the shoulders of both Spear and Cooper. "It
+grows better and better. Tomorrow, if the Captain is willing," he
+jerked his head toward the Portsmouth, "tomorrow evening we shall
+have a grand ball. It shall celebrate the day of independence."</p>
+<p>"But tomorrow is the eighth of July," said Cooper.</p>
+<p>"What matter?" Leidesdorff exclaimed, now thoroughly
+enthusiastic. "It's the spirit of the thing that counts, my
+friends."</p>
+<p>A crowd was assembling. Mrs. Windham and her daughter drew
+instinctively aside. Benito stood between them and the growing
+throng as if to shield them from a battery of curious glances.</p>
+<p>"Will the ladies accept?" asked Leidesdorff with another
+exaggerated salute.</p>
+<p>Senora Windham, haughty and aloof, had framed a stiff refusal,
+but her daughter caught her hand. "Do not antagonize them, mother,"
+she said in an undertone. "Let us meet this Gringo Commandante of
+the ship. Perhaps," she smiled archly, "it is not beyond the
+possibilities I may persuade him into giving aid."</p>
+<p>The elder woman hesitated, glanced inquiringly at Nathan Spear
+who stood beside them. He nodded. "The ladies will be pleased," he
+answered in their stead. Another cheer met this announcement.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+<h3>AMERICAN OCCUPATION</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Yerba Buena awoke to the sunrise of July 8, 1846, with a spirit
+of festive anticipation and a certain relief.</p>
+<p>Today the American sloop-of-war would land its sailors and
+marines to take possession of the port. Today the last remaining
+vestige of the Latin's dominance would end. A strange flag,
+curiously gay with stripes and stars, would fly above the customs
+house; strange men in uniforms of blue, and golden braid, would
+occupy the seats of power. Even the name of Yerba Buena would be
+altered, it was said. New Boston probably would be its title.</p>
+<p>Early morning brought ox-carts laden with gay, curious Spanish
+ladies from surrounding ranches, piquant eager senoritas with
+vivacious gestures of small hands and fluttering fans; senoras
+plump and placid, slower in their movements and with brooding eyes.
+They wore their laciest mantillas, silkiest gowns and daintiest
+footwear to impress the alien invader. And, beside their equipages,
+like outriders in the cortege of a queen, caballeros and vaqueros
+sat their caracoling steeds.</p>
+<p>Sailors from the trade and whaling ships, trappers, hunters and
+the motley populace of Yerba Buena made a colorful and strangely
+varied picture, as they gathered with the rancheros about the
+Plaza.</p>
+<p>At 8 o'clock four boats descended simultaneously from the
+Portsmouth's sides. They were greeted by loud cheers from the
+Americans on shore and watched with excited interest by the others.
+The boats landed their crews near the spring where a sort of wharf
+had been constructed. They returned for more and finally assembled
+seventy marines, a smaller number of sailors and the ship's band.
+Captain Montgomery, in the full dress uniform of a naval commander,
+reviewed his forces. Beside him stood Lieutenant John S. Misroon,
+large, correct and rather awkward, with long, restless arms; a
+youthful, rosy complexion and serious blue eyes. Further back,
+assembling his marines in marching order, was Lieutenant Henry
+Watson, a smaller man of extraordinary nervous energy. Montgomery
+gave the marching order. Fife and drum struck up a lively air and
+to its strains the feet of Yerba Buena's first invading army kept
+uncertain step as sailors and marines toiled through the sand. Half
+a thousand feet above them stood the quaint adobe customs house,
+its red-tiled roof and drab adobe walls contrasting pleasantly with
+the surrounding greenery of terraced hills. Below it lay the Plaza
+with its flagpole, its hitching racks for horses and oxen.</p>
+<p>Here the commander halted his men. "Lieutenant Watson," he
+addressed the senior subaltern, "be so good as to request
+attendance by the prefect or alcalde.... And for heaven's sake,
+fasten your coat, sir," he added in a whispered aside.</p>
+<p>Saluting with one hand, fumbling at his buttons with the other,
+Watson marched into the customs house, while the populace waited
+agape; but he returned very soon to report that the building was
+untenanted. Captain Montgomery frowned. He had counted on the pomp
+and punctilio of a formal surrender--a spectacular bit of history
+that would fashion gallant words for a report. "Haul down the flag
+of Mexico," he said to Lieutenant Misroon. "Run up the Stars and
+Stripes!"</p>
+<p>Lieutenant Misroon gazed aloft, then down again, embarrassed.
+"There is no flag, sir," he responded, and Montgomery verified his
+statement with a frowning glance. "Where the devil is it, then?" he
+asked explosively.</p>
+<p>A frightened clerk appeared now at the doorway of the custom
+house. He bowed and scraped before the irate commander. "Pardon,
+Senor Commandante," he said, quaveringly, "the flag of Mexico
+reposes in a trunk with the official papers of the port. I, myself,
+have seen the receiver of customs, Don Rafael Pinto, place it
+there."</p>
+<p>"And where is Don Rafael?"</p>
+<p>"Some days ago he joined the Castro forces in the South,
+Senor."</p>
+<p>"Well, well!" Montgomery's tone was sharp; "there must be
+someone in command. Who is he?"</p>
+<p>"The Sub-Prefect has ridden to his rancho, Commandante."</p>
+<p>"That disposes of the civil authorities," Montgomery reflected,
+"since Port-Captain Ridley is in jail with Fremont's captives." He
+turned to the clerk again. "Is there not a garrison at the
+Presidio?"</p>
+<p>"They have joined the noble Castro," sighed the clerk,
+recovering his equanimity. "There is only the commander Sanchez,
+Senor. He is also at his rancho."</p>
+<p>Despite his irritation, Captain Montgomery could not miss the
+humor of the situation. A dry chuckle escaped him. "Run up the
+flag," he said to Lieutenant Misroon, and the latter hastened to
+comply. An instant later the starry banner floated high above their
+heads. A cheer broke out. Hats flew into the air and from the
+ship's band came the stirring strains of America's national air.
+Then, deep and thunderous, a gun spoke on the Portsmouth. Another
+and another.</p>
+<p>Captain Montgomery, stiff and dignified, lifted his hand and
+amid an impressive silence read the proclamation of Commodore
+Sloat, in which all citizens of captured ports were assured of fair
+and friendly treatment and invited to become subjects of the United
+States. He suggested the immediate formation of a town militia.
+Leidesdorff came bustling forward.</p>
+<p>"My house is at your service, gentlemen," he said. "And
+tonight," he removed his hat and bowed toward the ladies, "tonight
+I bid you all to be my guests and give our new friends welcome." He
+saluted Montgomery and his aids, who, somewhat nonplussed, returned
+the greeting.</p>
+<p>Nathan Spear elbowed his way to the commander's side. With him
+came Senora Windham and the smiling Senorita Inez. Benito lingered
+rather diffidently in the background with a group of Spanish
+Californians, but was finally induced to bring them forward. There
+were general handshakings. Many other rancheros, now that the ice
+was broken, brought their wives and daughters for an introduction
+to the gringo commandante, and Montgomery, his good humor restored,
+kissed many a fair hand in response to a languishing smile. It
+seemed a happy and a friendly seizure. Inez said, eyes a-sparkle,
+"We shall see you at the ball this evening, Senor Commandante."</p>
+<p>"I shall claim the first dance, Senorita," said the sailor,
+bowing low. Her heart leaped as they left him, and she squeezed her
+brother's arm. "He is a kindly man, Benito mio. I shall tell him of
+this interloper--this McTurpin. Have no fear."</p>
+<p>Benito smiled a little dubiously. He had less faith than Inez in
+the future government of the Americans.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2>
+<h3>AN OFFER AND A THREAT</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Aleck McTurpin, tired but exhilarated, rode toward the Windham
+rancho on the morning after Leidesdorff's ball. He had made a night
+of it and he was in high fettle. The Senorita Windham had granted
+him a dance despite her brother's scowling disapproval. Out of the
+charm of that brief association there had come into the gambler's
+mind a daring plan. To the Senorita Inez he had spoken of his claim
+upon the Windham rancho through her brother's note won on the
+gambling table. He had touched the matter very gently, for McTurpin
+knew the ways of women and was not without engaging qualities when
+they stood him in good stead.</p>
+<p>Now he rode toward a tryst with Inez Windham and his heart
+leaped at the prospect of another sight of her; within him like a
+heady wine there was the memory of her sparkling eyes, the roguish,
+mischievous, half-pouting mouth. The consciousness of something
+finer than his life had known aroused in him strange devotional
+impulses, unfamiliar yearnings.</p>
+<p>He and the Senorita were to meet and plan a settlement of
+McTurpin's claim against the rancho. He had asked her to come
+alone, and, after a swift look, half fearful, half desperate, she
+consented. It was an unheard-of thing in Spanish etiquette. But he
+believed she would fulfill the bargain. And if she did, he asked
+himself, what should he say--or do? For, perhaps, the first time in
+his life McTurpin was uncertain.</p>
+<p>Suddenly the road turned and he came upon her. She stood beside
+her horse, the morning sunlight in her wondrous dark hair. The ride
+had brought fresh color to her face and sparkle to her eyes.
+McTurpin caught his breath before the wonder and beauty of her.
+Then he sprang from his horse and bowed low. The Senorita Inez
+nodded almost curtly.</p>
+<p>"I have little time, Senor," she said, uneasily. "You are late.
+I may be missed." Her smile was all the more alluring for its hint
+of panic. "Can we not come to the point at once? I have here
+certain jewels which will pay a portion of the debt." She unclasped
+from her throat a necklace of pearls he had noted at the ball. She
+held them out toward him. "And here is a ring. Have you brought the
+paper?"</p>
+<p>McTurpin held up a protesting hand. "You wrong me, Senorita," he
+declared. "I am a gambler. Yes ... I take my chance with men and
+win or lose according to the Fates. But I have yet to rob a woman
+of her trinkets."</p>
+<p>"It is no robbery," she demurred, hastily. "Take them, I beseech
+you, and return the note. If it is not enough, we will pay more ...
+later ... from the proceeds of the ranch."</p>
+<p>"Senorita," said McTurpin eagerly, "let us compromise this
+matter more adroitly. Should I make no further claim upon your
+ranch than that which I possess, why may we not be
+neighbors--friends?"</p>
+<p>She tried to protest, but he rushed on, giving her no
+opportunity. "Senorita, I am not a man devoid of culture. I am not
+a sailor or a trapper like those ruffians below. Nor a keeper of
+shops. Senorita, I will give up gambling and become a ranchero.
+If--" he stammered, "If I--"</p>
+<p>Inez Windham took a backward step. Her breath came sharply. In
+this man's absurd confusion there was written plainer than his
+uncompleted words could phrase it, what he meant.</p>
+<p>"No, no," her little hands went out as if to ward off some
+repulsive thing. "Senor--that is quite impossible."</p>
+<p>McTurpin saw the look of horror, of aversion. He felt as though
+someone had struck him in the face. There was a little silence.
+Then he laughed, shortly.</p>
+<p>"Impossible?" the tone was cutting. "We shall see.... This is
+now a white man's country. I have offered to divide the rancho.
+What if I should take it all? Where would you go? You, the proud
+Senora and the shiftless young Benito?"</p>
+<p>The Senorita Inez' lips curled. "When my father comes he will
+know how to answer you," she told him, hotly.</p>
+<p>"If he were alive he would have come long since," McTurpin
+answered. "Many perish on the northern trails." He took a step
+toward her. "Do you know that this morning 200 more Americans
+arrived on the ship Brooklyn? They are armed and there is talk of
+'running out the greasers.' Do you know what that means? It were
+well to have a friend at court, my little lady."</p>
+<p>"Go!" the girl blazed at him. "Go, and quickly--liar that you
+are. My brother and his vaqueros will know how to protect my mother
+and me." She sprang upon her horse and galloped toward the rancho.
+McTurpin, red and angry, watched her disappearing in a whirl of
+dust.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>"Look, my brother! He has spoken truly." Inez and Benito had
+ridden to the pueblo for a confirmation of McTurpin's words. They
+hitched their horses at the rack in Portsmouth Square and walked
+down toward the landing place. A large ship lay in the offing.
+Between her and the shore many small boats laden with passengers
+and varied cargoes plied to and fro.</p>
+<p>Inez, as they descended, noted many women clad in the
+exaggerated hoopskirts, the curious, short, gathered bodices and
+the low hats of the early forties. She thought this apparel oddly
+ugly, though the faces were not unattractive. They stood in knots,
+these women, some of them gazing rather helplessly about. The
+younger ones were surrounded by groups of admirers with whom they
+were chatting animatedly. There were also many children capering in
+the sand and pointing out to one another the strange sights of this
+new place. The men--hundreds of them it seemed to Inez--were busied
+with constructive tasks. Already there were many temporary
+habitations, mostly tents of varied shapes and sizes. Bonfires
+blazed here and there. Stands of arms in ordered, regular stacks,
+gave the scene a martial air. Piles of bed-clothing, household
+effects, agricultural implements, lay upon the sand. A curious
+instrument having a large wheel on one side caught the girl's
+attention. Near it were square, shallow boxes. A pale,
+broad-shouldered man with handsome regular features and brooding,
+poetic eyes stood beside the machine, turning the wheel now and
+then, and examining the boxes. He seemed to be a leader, for many
+people came to ask him questions which he answered with decision
+and authority.</p>
+<p>"Who is that?" asked Inez of Nathan Spear and Leidesdorff as the
+two approached. "And what is the strange contrivance upon which he
+has his hand?"</p>
+<p>"It is a printing press," Spear answered. "Yerba Buena is soon
+to have a paper for the chronicling of its metropolitan affairs.
+The man? Oh, that's Sam Brannan, the elder of this band of
+Mormons."</p>
+<p>"Is it true that they have come to drive us from our homes?"
+asked Inez fearfully.</p>
+<p>"Who, the Mormons? Lord forbid," retorted Spear. He beckoned to
+the elder, who approached and was presented. Inez, as she looked
+into his kindly eyes, forgot her fears. Brannan eagerly explained
+his printing press. She left him feeling that he was less enemy
+than friend.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+<h3>THE FIRST ELECTION</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Captain John J. Vioget's house was the busiest place in Yerba
+Buena, and John Henry Brown its most important personage. The old
+frame dwelling built by a Swiss sailor in 1840 had become in turn a
+billiard hall and groggery, a sort of sailors' lodging house and a
+hotel. Now it was the scene of Yerba Buena's first election. About
+a large table sat the election inspectors guarding the ballot box,
+fashioned hastily from an empty jar of lemon syrup. Robert Ridley,
+recently released from Sutter's Fort, where he had been imprisoned
+by the Bear Flag party, was a candidate for office as alcalde. He
+opposed Lieutenant Washington Bartlett, appointed to officiate pro
+tem by Captain Montgomery. Brown was busy with his spirituous
+dispensing. It was made a rule, upon Brannan's advice, that none
+should be served until he had voted.</p>
+<p>Brown kept shouting: "Ship-shape, gents, and reg'lar; that's the
+word. Place your vote and then you drinks.... Gord bless yer merry
+hearts."</p>
+<p>Thus he harangued them into order and coaxed many a Russian,
+Spanish, English and American coin across his bar. Suddenly he
+looked into the eyes of Aleck McTurpin.</p>
+<p>"Give me a brandy sling," the gambler ordered. He was in a rough
+mood, which ensues from heavy and continued drinking.</p>
+<p>"Have ye voted, Aleck?" Brown inquired.</p>
+<p>"I vote when I please," McTurpin answered sullenly, "and I drink
+when it suits me." He took from an inner pocket of his coat a
+derringer with silver mountings, laid it meaningly upon the bar. "I
+ordered a brandy sling."</p>
+<p>Brown paled, but his eye did not waver. Almost casually, he
+spoke. "Stop your jokin', Aleck. Rules is rules."</p>
+<p>McTurpin's fingers closed about the pistol. His eyes were
+venomous.</p>
+<p>Then Benito Windham entered. Just inside the door he paused,
+uncertainly. "I have come to vote for Senor Bartlett as Alcalde,"
+he declared.</p>
+<p>A laugh greeted him. "You should not announce your choice," said
+Inspector Ward severely. "The ballot is supposedly secret."</p>
+<p>McTurpin turned, his quarrel with Brown instantly forgotten.
+"Throw the little greaser out," he spoke with slow distinctness.
+"This is a white man's show."</p>
+<p>There was a startled silence. "He's drunk," Brown told them
+soothingly. "Aleck's drunk. Don't listen to him."</p>
+<p>"Drunk or not, I back my words." He waved the weapon
+threateningly. "Sit down there," he ordered Windham. "If you want
+to vote you'll vote for a gentleman. Write Bob Ridley's name on
+your ballot, or, by God! I'll fix you." Benito, as if hypnotized,
+took a seat at the table and dipped his quill in the ink. The
+others stirred uneasily, but made no move. There was a moment of
+foreboding silence. Then a hearty voice said from the door: "What's
+the matter, gentlemen?"</p>
+<p>No one answered. McTurpin, the pistol in his hand, still stood
+above Benito. The latter's fingers held the quill suspended. A drop
+of ink fell on the ballot slip unnoted. Brannan, with a puzzled
+frown, came forward, laid a hand upon the gambler's shoulder.</p>
+<p>"What's the matter here?" he asked more sharply.</p>
+<p>McTurpin turned upon him fiercely. "Go to hell!" he cried. "I'm
+running this."</p>
+<p>Brannan's voice was quiet. "Put the pistol down!" he ordered.
+Deliberately McTurpin raised his weapon. "Damn you--" But he got no
+farther. Brannan's fist struck fairly on the chin. One could hear
+the impact of it like a hammer blow. There was a shot, a bullet
+spent against the rafters overhead. McTurpin sprawling on the
+sawdust-covered floor.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>On Windham rancho the Senora Windham waited with a faith that
+knew no end for the coming of her husband. There had been vague
+reports from vaguer sources that he had been captured by the
+northern savages. Inez and Benito were forever at her side--save
+when the boy rode into town to cull news from arriving sailors. The
+Spanish rancheros had all withdrawn to the seclusion of their
+holdings and were on the verge of war against the new authorities
+of Yerba Buena.</p>
+<p>Washington Bartlett, recently elected Alcalde, had abused his
+office by repeated confiscations of fine horses from the camponeras
+of Spanish-Californians, seizing them by requisition of military
+authority and giving orders on the government in exchange. This the
+Spaniards had borne in silence. But abuses had become so flagrant
+as to pass all bounds.</p>
+<p>"We must arm and drive these robbers from our California," said
+Benito passionately. "Sanchez has, in secret, organized one hundred
+caballeros. Only wait. The day comes when we strike!"</p>
+<p>"Benito," said his mother, sadly, "there has been enough of war.
+We cannot struggle with these Yankees. They are strong and
+numerous. We must keep the peace and suffer until your father
+comes."</p>
+<p>"There is to be a grand ball at the casa of the Senor
+Leidesdorff," said Inez. "El Grande Commandante of the Yankee
+squadron comes amid great ceremony. I will gain his ear. Perchance
+he will undo the wrongs of this Bartlett, the despoiler."</p>
+<p>"Inez mia," said her brother, "do not go. No good will come of
+it. For they are all alike, these foreigners."</p>
+<p>"Ah!" she cried, reproachfully, "you say that of the Senor
+Brannan? Or of Don Nathan?"</p>
+<p>"They are good men," Benito answered, grudgingly. "Have it as
+you will."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Yerba Buena did honor to Commodore Stockton under Leidesdorff's
+ever-hospitable roof. Hundreds of candles burned in sconces and
+chandeliers, festoons of bunting and greenery gave the big room a
+carnival air; Indian servitors flitted silently about with trays of
+refreshments, and the gold lace and braid of America's navy mingled
+picturesquely with the almost spectacular garb of stately Spanish
+caballeros. The commodore, though undersized, was soldierly and
+very brisk of manner. Stockton seemed to Inez a gallant figure.
+While she danced with him, she found his brisk directness not
+unpleasing. He asked her of the rancheros and of reports that came
+to him of their dissatisfaction with American authority.</p>
+<p>"They seem so cordial," he said, "these Spanish gentlemen. I
+cannot believe that they hate us, as it is said."</p>
+<p>"Ah, Senor." Inez' smile had faded and her deep and troubled
+eyes held his. "They have cause for hatred, though they come in all
+good will to welcome you."</p>
+<p>As it chanced, they passed just then close to a little group in
+which Alcalde Bartlett made a central figure. Two of Stockton's
+aids were hanging on his words.</p>
+<p>"Tomorrow, gentlemen, we shall go riding. I will find you each a
+worthy mount. We raise fine horses on the ranches."</p>
+<p>The fiery Sanchez, strolling by, overheard as well. Eyes ablaze,
+he went on swiftly joining Vasquez and De Haro near the door. They
+held low converse for an instant with their smouldering glances on
+the pompous Bartlett. Then they hurried out.</p>
+<br>
+<a name="page044.jpg"></a>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/page044.jpg" width="90%" alt=
+""><br>
+<b>"Ah, Senor," Inez' smile had faded ... "they have cause for
+hatred."</b></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+<h3>THE RANCHEROS REVOLT</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Five horsemen rode into the morning sunshine down El Camino Real
+toward the south. One was Washington Bartlett, alcalde of Yerba
+Buena, whose rather pursy figure sat with an ungainly lack of grace
+the mettled horse which he bestrode. It was none other than Senora
+Windham's favorite and beloved mare "Diablo," filched from the
+Windham stables several days before. In compensation she received a
+bit of paper signifying that the animal was commandeered "for
+military necessity."</p>
+<p>The rancheros were patient fellows, Bartlett reflected. If his
+conscience smote him sometimes, he took refuge in the knowledge
+that America was still at war with Mexico and that these horses
+were the property of alien enemies. Non-combatants, possibly. Yet
+they had failed in declaration of allegiance to the United
+States.</p>
+<p>"I'll show you some excellent horseflesh today," he promised his
+companions. "And, what's better, you shall have your pick."</p>
+<p>"Well, that's extraordinarily good of you, alcalde," said the
+man who rode beside him. "But ... do you mean one gets these
+glorious animals--for love?"</p>
+<p>"Not--er--exactly," Bartlett answered. "You see, my deputies and
+officers, like yourself, must ride about to make their observations
+and reports. Such are the needs of war."</p>
+<p>"Of course," another rider nodded understandingly. "And as
+alcalde you have many deputies."</p>
+<p>"As well as many--er--observation officers like ourselves to
+supply," a third supplemented, slyly dropping one eyelid.</p>
+<p>The fourth man said nothing for a time. Then, rather
+unexpectedly, he asked: "And what do you give them in exchange,
+alcalde?"</p>
+<p>Bartlett turned in some surprise. "I give them notes of hand,"
+he answered half resentfully. "Notes redeemable in American
+gold--when the war is over."</p>
+<p>"And, are these notes negotiable security? Will your
+shop-keepers accept them in lieu of coin?"</p>
+<p>"At proper discounts--yes," said Bartlett, flushing.</p>
+<p>"I have heard," the other remarked almost musingly, "that they
+are redeemable at from fifteen to twenty per cent. And that the
+only man who accepts them at even half of their face value is
+McTurpin the gambler."</p>
+<p>"That is not my business," Bartlett answered brusquely. The
+quintet rode on, absorbed and silent. Below them swept green
+reaches of ranch land, dotted here and there with cattle and horses
+or the picturesque haciendas of old Spanish families. The camino
+stretched white and broad before them, winding through rolling
+hillocks, shaded sometimes by huge overhanging trees.</p>
+<p>"Isn't this Francisco Sanchez, whom we go to visit, a soldier, a
+former commandante of your town, alcalde?" asked a rider.</p>
+<p>"Yes, the same one who ran away when Montgomery came." Bartlett
+laughed. "It was several days before he dared come out of the brush
+to take a look at the 'gringo invader.'"</p>
+<p>"I met him at the reception to Commodore Stockton," said the man
+who rode beside Bartlett. "He didn't impress me as a timid chap,
+exactly. Something of a fire-eater, I'd have said."</p>
+<p>"Oh, they're all fire-eaters--on the surface," Bartlett's tone
+was disdainful. "But you may all judge for yourselves in a moment.
+For, if I'm not mistaken, he's coming up the road to meet us."</p>
+<p>"By jove, he sits his horse like a king," said Bartlett's
+companion, admiringly. "Who are those chaps with him? Looks like a
+sort of--reception committee."</p>
+<p>"They are Guerrero and Vasquez and--oh, yes, young Benito
+Windham," Bartlett answered. He spurred his horse and the others
+followed; there was something about the half careless formation of
+the four riders ahead which vaguely troubled the alcalde.</p>
+<p>"Buenos dias, caballeros," he saluted in his faulty Spanish.</p>
+<p>"Buenos dias, senors," Sanchez spoke with unusual crispness.
+"You have come for horses, doubtless, amigo alcalde?"</p>
+<p>"Ah--er--yes," said Bartlett. "The necessities of war are
+great," he added apologetically.</p>
+<p>"And suppose we refuse?" Benito Windham pressed forward, blazing
+out the words in passionate anger. "Suppose we deny your
+manufactured requisitions? Whence came the horse you sit like a
+very clown? I will tell you, tyrant and despoiler. It was stolen
+from my mother by your thieves."</p>
+<p>"Benito, hold your peace," said Sanchez sternly. "I will deal
+with this good gentleman and his friends. They shall be our guests
+for a time."</p>
+<p>As though the words had been a signal, five lariats descended
+apparently from a clear sky, each falling over the head of a member
+of Bartlett's party. They settled neatly and were tightened,
+pinning the arms of riders helplessly.</p>
+<p>"Well done, amigos," commented Sanchez as a quintet of grinning
+vaqueros rode up from the rear. "As you have so aptly said, the
+necessities of war are paramount, alcalde."</p>
+<p>"What's the meaning of this?" demanded Bartlett. "Release us
+instantly, or you shall suffer. Do you think," he sneered, "that a
+handful of greasers can defy the United States?"</p>
+<p>"Perchance, with so important an official as the great Alcalde
+Bartlett for your hostage, we can reach a compromise on certain
+points," said Sanchez. "Come, you shall suffer no hardship, if you
+accept the situation reasonably."</p>
+<p>"I warn you that this means death or imprisonment to all of
+you," Bartlett shouted.</p>
+<p>"Ah, senor, the risks of war are many." Sanchez' teeth flashed.
+He clucked to his horse and the little cavalcade wound,
+single-file, up a narrow horse-trail toward the hills.</p>
+<p>They passed many bands of horsemen, all armed, saluting Sanchez
+as their chief. Among them were owners and vaqueros from a score of
+ranches. There was something grim, determined in their manner which
+foreboded serious trouble.</p>
+<p>One of Bartlett's fellow-captives leaned toward him, whispering:
+"Those fellows mean business. They're like hornets if you stir 'em
+up too far, these greasers."</p>
+<p>"Yes, by Jove! And they mean to sting!" said another.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+<h3>McTURPIN'S COUP</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Yerba Buena was in an uproar. Sanchez' capture of Alcalde
+Bartlett and his party had brought home with a vengeance the war
+which hitherto was but an echo from far Mexico. Now the peaceful
+pueblo was an armed camp. Volunteers rode in from San Jose, San
+Juan and other nearby pueblos, asking for a chance to "fight the
+greasers." All the ranches of the countryside buzzed with a martial
+ardor. Vaqueros, spurred with jangling silver-mounted harness,
+toward Francisco Sanchez' stronghold in the Santa Clara hills to
+battle with the "gringo tyrants."</p>
+<p>Commander Hull of the "Warren" had sent a hundred sailors and
+marines from his sloop, post haste, to quell the rebellion.
+Couriers rode to and fro between his headquarters in the custom
+house and the punitive expedition under Captain Ward Marston which
+was scouting the Santa Clara plains in search of the enemy.</p>
+<p>Even now the battle waged, no doubt, for Marston that morning
+reported a brush with the enemy, had asked for reinforcements. Hull
+had sent post haste a pack of ill assorted and undrilled
+adventurers from among the new arrivals. That was 9 o'clock and now
+the sun had passed its noon meridian--with no courier.</p>
+<p>William Leidesdorff came strolling up, his expression placid,
+smiling as always. He was warm from toiling up the hill and paused,
+panting, hat in hand, to mop his brow with a large red
+'kerchief.</p>
+<p>"Ha! Commander!" he saluted. "And how goes it this morning?"</p>
+<p>Hull glanced at him half irritated, half amused. One could never
+quite be angry at this fellow nor in tune with him. Leidesdorff,
+with his cherubic grin, his plump, comfortable body, the
+close-cropped hair, side whiskers and moustache, framing and
+embellishing his round face with an ornate symmetry, was like a
+bearded cupid. Hull handed him the latest dispatch. "Nothing since
+then, confound it!" he said gloomily.</p>
+<p>"Ah, well," spoke Leidesdorff, with unction, "one should not be
+alarmed. What is that cloud of dust on the horizon? A courier
+perhaps."</p>
+<p>It proved to be Samuel Brannan, dusty and weary, with dispatches
+from Captain Ward which Hull almost snatched from his hand. A group
+of men and women who had watched his arrival, gathered about asking
+questions. Nathan Spear spoke first. He had been too ill to join
+the Americans, but had furnished them horses and arms. "How goes it
+with our 'army,' Sam?" he asked.</p>
+<p>"None too well," said Brannan. "Those greasers can fight and
+they've a good leader. Everyone of them would die for Sanchez. And
+everyone's a sharpshooter. For a time they amused themselves this
+morning knocking off our hats--it rather demoralized the
+recruits."</p>
+<p>Hull, with an imprecation, crushed the dispatch and turned to
+Brannan. "We must have more men and quickly," he announced. "Ward
+asks for instant reinforcements.... Can you recruit--say
+fifty--from your colony?"</p>
+<p>"Impossible," said Brannan, shortly. "I have sent all who can
+ride or manage a rifle." He came a little closer and regarded the
+commander steadily. "Did Ward write anything about a parley?" he
+inquired.</p>
+<p>"Yes," said Hull. "He indicates that peace might be arranged if
+I will give a guarantee against further horse or cattle
+commandeering."</p>
+<p>"May I suggest that such a course is wise--and just?"</p>
+<p>"Damn it, sir! You'd have me treat with these--these brigands!"
+the other shouted. "Never. They've defied the United States by
+laying violent hands on an official. They've wounded two of my
+marines."</p>
+<p>He turned to the crowd which had assembled. "Do you hear that?
+Two Americans wounded. Five held in captivity--including your
+alcalde. Shall we stand that passively? Shall we let the enemy
+dictate terms?"</p>
+<p>"No, no!" a voice shouted. "Fight to the last ditch. Kill the
+greasers. Hang them to a tree. I'm with you, horse and gun. Who
+else?"</p>
+<p>"I, I, I," a score made answer. They pressed forward. "Who's to
+lead us?" asked the first speaker.</p>
+<p>Brannan stepped forward but Commander Hull raised a protesting
+hand. "I shall send a corporal of marines from the Warren. You will
+rest your horse, since I cannot spare you a fresh mount, and hold
+yourself in readiness to act as a courier, Mr. Brannan." He
+summoned an orderly and sent him to the Warren with an order to
+Corporal Smith. Meanwhile the volunteers assembled in the square,
+thirty-four in all; men of half a dozen nationalities. One giant
+Russian loomed above them, a Goliath on a great roan horse. And
+near him, to accentuate the contrast, an elderly moustached,
+imperialed Frenchman on a mare as under-sized and spirited as
+himself.</p>
+<p>Brannan and Leidesdorff watched them galloping down the camino
+ten minutes later under the guidance of a smart young corporal.</p>
+<p>"I trust it will soon be over," said the former. "I saw Benito
+Windham riding beside Sanchez in the battle today."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>The Senorita Inez' head was high that afternoon when McTurpin
+came upon her suddenly in the patio of the Windham hacienda. She
+rose haughtily. "Senor, this intrusion is unpardonable. If my
+brother was within call--" McTurpin bowed low. There was a touch of
+mockery in his eye. "It is about your brother that I've come to
+talk with you, Miss Inez."</p>
+<p>The girl's hand sought her breast. "Benito! He is not--" Words
+failed her.</p>
+<p>"No, not dead--yet," McTurpin answered.</p>
+<p>"God in Heaven! Tell me," said the girl, imploringly! "He is
+wounded? Dying?" McTurpin took a seat beside her on the rustic
+bench. "Benito isn't dead--nor wounded so far as I know. But," his
+tone held an ominous meaning, "it might be better if he were."</p>
+<p>"I--I do not understand," said Inez, staring.</p>
+<p>"Then let me make it clear." McTurpin struck a fist against his
+palm. "Your brother is American. Very well. And what is an American
+who takes up arms against his country?"</p>
+<p>The girl sprang up. "It is a lie. Benito fights for freedom,
+justice only--"</p>
+<p>"That is not the view of our American Commander," McTurpin rose
+and faced her. "The law of war is that a man who fights against his
+country is a traitor." His eyes held hers hypnotically. "When this
+revolt is over there will be imprisonment or pardon for the
+Spanish-Californians. <i>But Benito will be hanged</i>."</p>
+<p>Inez Windham swayed. One hand grasped at the bench-back for
+support; the other clutched her bodice near the throat. "Benito,"
+she said almost in a whisper. Then she turned upon McTurpin
+furiously. "Go," she cried. "I do not believe you. Go!"</p>
+<p>But McTurpin did not stir. "It is the law of nations," he
+declared, "no use denying it, Miss Windham."</p>
+<p>"Why did you come to tell me this? To torture me?"</p>
+<p>"To save you--and your brother?"</p>
+<p>"How?" she asked fiercely.</p>
+<p>"I have influence with Alcalde Bartlett." The gambler smiled.
+"He owes me--more than he can pay. But if that fails ..." he turned
+toward her eagerly, "I have means to accomplish his escape."</p>
+<p>"And the price," she stammered. "There is a price, isn't
+there?"</p>
+<p>His gaze met hers directly, "You, little Inez."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+<h3>THE ELOPEMENT</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Two riders, a man and a veiled woman evidently young, halted
+their horses in Portsmouth Square, where the former alighted and
+offered an arm to his companion. She, however, disdaining his
+assistance, sprang lightly from the saddle and, turning her back on
+him, gazed, motionless, toward the bay. There was something
+arresting and curiously dramatic about the whole performance,
+something that hinted of impending tragedy. The slight figure with
+its listless droop and stony immobility caught and clutched the
+sympathies of Nathan Spear as he was passing by. The man was Alec
+McTurpin; the girl, no doubt, some light o' love from a neighboring
+pueblo. Yet there was a disturbing familiarity about her.</p>
+<p>Spear watched them go across the square toward the City Hotel, a
+long, one-story adobe structure built by Leidesdorff as a store and
+home. On the veranda stood the stocky figure of Proprietor Brown,
+smoking a long pipe and conversing with half a dozen roughly
+dressed men who lounged about the entrance. He looked up
+wonderingly as McTurpin approached. The latter drew him to one side
+and appeared to make certain demands to which Brown acquiesced by a
+curt nod, as if reluctant. Then the man and woman passed around a
+corner of the building, the loungers peering curiously after
+them.</p>
+<p>A little later Spear observed the gambler issue forth alone and
+journey rapidly toward the landing dock. He noted that a strange
+ship rode at anchor. It must have come within the hour, he decided.
+Impelled by curiosity, he descended in McTurpin's wake.</p>
+<p>"What ship is that?" he asked of Leidesdorff.</p>
+<p>"I haven't learned her name. She's from the north coast with a
+lot of sick men. They've the scurvy and flux, I'm told. Dr. Jones
+has gone aboard."</p>
+<p>"I wonder what McTurpin's doing at the ship?" said Spear. "He'll
+get no gambling victims out of ailing seamen."</p>
+<p>"It's something else he wants, I fancy," said Bob Ridley, coming
+from the dock toward them. "He's looking for a preacher--"</p>
+<p>"Preacher?" cried the other men in unison.</p>
+<p>"Yes," responded Ridley. "Aleck's going to be married, the sly
+dog. And since the padres will have nothing to do with him, he's
+hard pressed. Perhaps the wench is a stickler for proprieties," he
+laughed. "Someone told him there was a sky pilot aboard the
+ship!"</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Inez Windham removed her veil. She was in a small room, almost
+dark, where McTurpin had left her after locking the door on the
+outside. It was like a cell, with one small window high and narrow
+which let in a straggling transmitted light, dimming mercifully the
+crude outlines of a wooden stool, a bedstead of rough lumber,
+covered by soiled blankets, a box-like commode upon which stood a
+pitcher and basin of heavy crockery.</p>
+<p>The walls were very thin. From beyond them, in what was
+evidently a public chamber, came snatches of talk interspersed with
+oaths, a click of poker chips and coin, now and then a song. An
+odor of rank tobacco seeped through the muslin-covered walls. With
+a sudden feeling of nausea, of complete despair, the girl threw
+herself face down upon the bed.</p>
+<p>For a time Inez lay there, oblivious to all save the misery of
+her fate. If only her father had not gone with those northern
+engineers! If only Benito were here to advise her! Benito, her
+beloved brother, in whose path the gallows loomed. It was that
+picture which had caused her to yield to McTurpin. Even darker,
+now, was the picture of her own future. A gambler's wife! Her hand
+sought a jewelled dagger which she always carried in her coiffure.
+Her fingers closed about the hilt with a certain solace. After
+Benito was safe--</p>
+<p>Voices in the next room caught her interest by a mention of the
+Santa Clara battle.</p>
+<p>"Hull is fighting mad," she heard. "He promises to bring the
+greasers to their knees. It's unconditional surrender or no
+quarter, Brannan says."</p>
+<p>"First catch your pig--then butcher it," said another,
+meaningly. "The Spaniards have the best of it thus far. Hull's
+shouting frantically for reinforcements. Well, he won't get me. I
+think the rancheros have their side as well as we. If this
+stiff-necked commander would listen to reason."</p>
+<p>"He hasn't heard the other side," the first speaker resumed. "If
+he knew what Alcalde Bartlett had done to these poor devils through
+his horse and cattle raids--"</p>
+<p>A third man laughed. "He'll never learn that, partner, have no
+fear; who'll tell him?"</p>
+<p>"Well, here's to Uncle Sam," said a fourth voice. Followed a
+clink of glasses. Inez Windham sat up swiftly and dried her eyes. A
+daring thought had come to her.</p>
+<p>Why should not she tell Commander Hull the truth!</p>
+<p>She rose and smoothed her ruffled gown. A swift look from the
+window revealed that the road was clear. Inez began tugging at the
+door. It resisted her efforts, but she renewed the battle with all
+the fury of her youthful strength. Finally the flimsy lock gave a
+bit beneath her efforts; a narrow slit appeared between the door
+and jamb in which she forced her hands and thus secured a great
+purchase. Then, one foot against the wall, she tugged and pried and
+pulled until, with a sudden crack, the bar to liberty sprang
+open.</p>
+<p>She was free.</p>
+<p>Just across the Plaza the custom house looked down at her, the
+late sun glinting redly on its tiles. There, no doubt, she would
+find Commander Hull. She hastened forward.</p>
+<p>"Not so fast, my dear!"</p>
+<p>A hand fell on her shoulder rudely. With, a gasp she looked up
+at McTurpin.</p>
+<p>Beside the gambler, whose eyes burned angrily, Inez perceived a
+tall, lean, bearded stranger.</p>
+<p>"Let me go!" she demanded.</p>
+<p>"I have brought the parson," said McTurpin. "We can be married
+at once."</p>
+<p>"I--I--let us wait a little," stammered Inez.</p>
+<p>"Why?" the gambler asked suspiciously. "Where were you
+going?"</p>
+<p>"Nowhere," she evaded, "for a walk--"</p>
+<p>"Well, you can walk back to the hotel, my lady," said McTurpin.
+"I have little time to waste. And there's Benito to consider," he
+concluded. Suddenly he put an arm about her waist and kissed her.
+Inez thought of her brother and tried to submit. But she could not
+repress a little cry of aversion, of fear. The bearded man stepped
+forward. "Hold up a bit, partner," he drawled. "This doesn't look
+quite regular. Don't you wish to marry him, young lady?"</p>
+<p>"Of course she does," McTurpin blustered. "She rode all the way
+in from her mother's ranch to be my wife." He glared at Inez.
+"Isn't it true?" he flung at her. "Tell him."</p>
+<p>She nodded her head miserably. But the stranger was not
+satisfied. "Let go of her," he said, and when McTurpin tailed to
+heed the order, sinewy fingers on the gambler's wrist enforced
+it.</p>
+<p>"Now, tell me, Miss, what's wrong?" the bearded one invited.
+"Has this fellow some hold on you? Is he forcing you into this
+marriage?"</p>
+<p>Again the girl nodded dumbly.</p>
+<p>"She lies," said McTurpin, venomously, but the words were
+scarcely out of his mouth before the stranger's fist drove them
+back. McTurpin staggered. "Damn you!" he shouted, "I teach you to
+meddle between a man and his woman."</p>
+<p>Inez saw something gleam in his hand as the two men sprang upon
+each other. She heard another blow, a groan. Screaming, she fled
+uphill toward the custom house.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2>
+<h3>HULL "CAPITULATES"</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Like a startled deer, Inez Windham fled from McTurpin and the
+stranger, her little, high-heeled slippers sinking unheeded into
+the horse-trodden mire of Portsmouth Square, her silk skirt
+spattered and soiled; her hair, freed from the protecting mantilla,
+blowing in the searching trade wind. Thus, as Commander Hull sat
+upon the custom house veranda, reading the latest dispatch from
+Captain Ward, she burst upon him--a flushed, disheveled, lovely
+vision with fear-stricken eyes.</p>
+<p>"Senor," she panted, "Senor Commandante ... I must speak with
+you at once!"</p>
+<p>Hull rose. "My dear young lady"--he regarded her with patent
+consternation--"my dear young lady ... w-what is wrong?"</p>
+<p>She was painfully aware of her bedraggled state, the whirlwind
+lack of ceremony with which she had propelled herself into his
+presence. Suddenly words failed her, she was conscious that an arm
+stretched toward her as she swayed. Next she lay upon a couch in an
+inner chamber, the commander, in his blue-and-gold-braid stiffness
+bending over her, gravely anxious.</p>
+<p>She rose at once, ignoring his protesting gesture.</p>
+<p>"I--I fainted?" she asked perplexedly. Hull nodded. "Something
+excited you. A fight in the street below. A man was stabbed--"</p>
+<p>"Oh!" The white face of the bearded stranger sprang into her
+memory, "Is he dead?"</p>
+<p>"No, but badly hurt, I fancy," said the Commander. "They have
+taken him to the City Hotel."</p>
+<p>Desperately, she forced herself to speak. "I have come, senor,
+to ask a pardon for my brother. He is very dear to me--and to my
+mother"--she clasped her hands and held them toward him
+supplicatingly. "Senor, if Benito should be captured--you will have
+mercy?"</p>
+<p>The commander regarded her with puzzled interest. "Who is
+Benito, little one?"</p>
+<p>"His name is Windham. My father was a gring--Americano,
+Commandante."</p>
+<p>Hull frowned. "An American ... fighting against his country?" he
+said sharply.</p>
+<p>"Ah, sir"--the girl came closer in her earnestness--"he does not
+fight against the United States ... only against robbers who would
+hide behind its flag." In her tone there was the outraged
+indignation of a suffering people. "Horse thieves, cattle
+robbers."</p>
+<p>"Hush," said Hull, "you must not speak thus of American
+officials. Their seizures, I am told, were unavoidable--for
+military needs alone."</p>
+<p>"You have never heard our side," the girl spoke bitterly. "Was
+it military need that filched two hundred of our blooded horses
+from the ranches? Was it military need that robbed my ailing mother
+of her pet, the mare Diablo? Was it military need that gave our
+finest steeds to your Alcalde for his pleasure, that enabled half a
+dozen false officials to recruit their stables from our caponeras
+and sell horses in the open market?" Her eyes blazed. "Senor, it
+was tyranny and theft, no less. Had I been a man, like Benito, I,
+too, should have ridden with Sanchez."</p>
+<p>"Can you prove these things?" asked the Commander, sternly.</p>
+<p>"Si, senor," said Inez quickly. "It is well known hereabouts. Do
+not take my word," she smiled, "I am a woman--a Spaniard, on my
+mother's side. Ask your own countrymen--Samuel Brannan, Nathan
+Spear, William Leidesdorff."</p>
+<p>Hull pulled at his chin reflectively. "Something of this sort I
+have already heard," he said, "but I believed it idle gossip.... If
+your brother had come to me, instead of riding with the
+enemy--"</p>
+<p>"He is a youth, hot-blooded and impulsive, Senor Commandante."
+Swiftly, and to Hull's intense embarrassment, she knelt before him.
+"We love him so: my mother, who is ill, and I," she pleaded. "He is
+all we have.... Ah, senor, you will spare him--our Benito!"</p>
+<p>"Get up," said Hull a trifle brusquely. His tone, too, shook a
+little. "Confound it, girl, I'm not a murderer." He forced a smile.
+"If my men haven't shot the young scoundrel you may have him
+back."</p>
+<p>"And that," he added, as the girl rose with a shining rapture in
+her eyes, "may be tomorrow." He picked up a paper from the desk and
+regarded it thoughtfully. "There is truce at present. Sanchez will
+surrender if I give my word that there shall be no further
+raids."</p>
+<p>"And--you will do this, Commandante?" the girl asked,
+breathlessly.</p>
+<p>"I--will consult with Brannan, Leidesdorff and Spear, as you
+suggested," Hull replied. But his eyes were kind. The Senorita Inez
+had her answer. Impetuously, her arms went around his neck. An
+instant later, dazed, a little red, a moist spot on his cheek and a
+lingering fragrance clinging subtly like the touch of vanished
+arms, Hull watched her flying heels upon the muddy square.</p>
+<p>"Well, I'll be damned!" he said, explosively.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>In the room which had been Inez' whilom prison--and which proved
+to be the only one available in the City Hotel, Adrian Stanley lay
+tossing and muttering. The woman who sat at his bedside watched
+anxiously each movement of his lips, listening eagerly to catch the
+incoherent, whispered words. For a time she could make of them no
+intelligent meaning. But now, after a long and quiet interval, he
+began to ask questions, though his eyes were still closed. "Am I
+going to die?"</p>
+<p>"No," said Inez, for it was she, "you've lost a lot of blood,
+but the doctor says there's small danger."</p>
+<p>The bearded face looked up half quizzically. "Are you glad?"</p>
+<p>"Oh ... yes," said Inez, with a quick-taken respiration.</p>
+<p>"Then it's all right," the patient murmured sleepily. His eyes
+closed.</p>
+<p>Inez' color heightened as she watched him. What had he meant,
+she wondered, and decided that his brain was not quite clear. But,
+somehow, this was not the explanation she desired.</p>
+<p>Presently Dr. Elbert Jones came in, cheering her with his
+breezy, jovial drawl.</p>
+<p>"Getting tired of your task?" he questioned. But Inez shook her
+head. "He protected me," she said. "It was while defending me that
+he was wounded." Her eyes searched the physician's face. "Where,"
+she questioned fearfully, "is--"</p>
+<p>"McTurpin?" returned the doctor. "Lord knows. He vamoosed,
+absquatulated. You'll hear no more of him, I think, Miss
+Windham."</p>
+<p>For a moment the dark lashes of the patient rose as if something
+in the doctor's words had caught his attention; then they fell
+again over weary eyes and he appeared to sleep. But when Doctor
+Jones was gone, Inez found him regarding her with unusual
+interest.</p>
+<p>"Did I hear him call you Windham?" he inquired, "Inez
+Windham?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, that is my name," she answered.</p>
+<p>"And your father's?"</p>
+<p>"He is Don Roberto Windham of the Engineers," Inez leaned
+forward. "Oh!" her eyes shone with a hope she dared not trust.
+"Tell me, quickly, have you news of him?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," said Stanley. "He is ill, but will recover. He will soon
+return." His eyes dwelt on the girl in silence, musingly.</p>
+<p>"Tell me more!" she pleaded. "We believed him lost. Ah, how my
+mother's health will mend when she hears this. We have waited so
+long...."</p>
+<p>"I was with him in the North," said Stanley. "Often, sitting at
+the camp-fire, while the others slept, he told me of his wife, his
+daughter, and his son, Benito. In my coat," he pointed to a garment
+hanging near the door, "you will find a letter--" He followed her
+swift, searching fingers, saw her press the envelope impulsively
+against her heart. While she read his eyes were on her dreamily,
+until at last he closed them with a little sigh.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2>
+<h3>SAN FRANCISCO IS NAMED</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Evening on the Windham rancho. Far below, across a vast green
+stretch of meadow sloping toward the sea, the sun sank into crimson
+canopies of cloud. It was one of those perfect days which come
+after the first rains, mellow and exhilarating. The Trio in the
+rose arbor of the patio were silent under the spell of its beauty.
+Don Roberto Windham, home again, after long months of wandering and
+hardship, stood beside the chair in which Senora Windham rested
+against a pillow. She had mended much since his return, and her
+eyes as she looked up at him held the same flashing, fiery
+tenderness which in the long ago had caused her to renounce
+Castilian traditions and become the bride of an Americano. At her
+feet upon a low stool sat her daughter, Inez, and Windham, as he
+looked down, was a little startled at her likeness to the Spanish
+beauty he had met and married a generation before.</p>
+<p>Conscious of his glance, her eyes turned upward and she held out
+her hand to him. "Father, mine," she said in English, "you have
+made the roses bloom again in mother's cheeks. And in my heart,"
+she added with a quick, impulsive tenderness.</p>
+<p>Robert Windham bent and kissed her wind-tossed hair. "I think
+another has usurped me in the latter task." He smiled, although not
+without a touch of sadness. "Ah, well, Adrian is a fine young
+fellow. You need not blush so furiously."</p>
+<p>"I think he comes," said the Senora Anita, and, unconsciously,
+her arm went around the girl. "Is not that his high-stepping mare
+and his beanpole of a figure riding beside Benito in yon cloud of
+dust?"</p>
+<p>She smiled down at Inez. "Do not mind your mother's jesting--Go
+now to smooth your locks and place a rose within them--as I used to
+do when Don Roberto came."</p>
+<p>Inez rose and made her way into the casa. She heard a clatter of
+hoofs and voices. At the sound of one her heart leaped
+strangely.</p>
+<p>"We have famous news," she heard her brother say. "The name of
+Yerba Buena has been changed to San Francisco. Here is an account
+of it in Brannan's <i>California Star</i>." She heard the rustle of
+a paper then, once more her brother's voice: "San Francisco!" he
+pronounced it lovingly. "Some day it will be a ciudad
+grande--perhaps even in my time."</p>
+<p>"A great city!" repeated his mother. "Thus my father dreamed of
+it.... But you will pardon us, Don Adrian, for you have other
+things in mind than Yerb--than San Francisco's future. See, my
+little one! Even now she comes to bid you welcome."</p>
+<p>Inez as she joined them gave her hand to Stanley. "Ah, Don
+Adrian, your color is high"--her tone was bantering, mock-anxious.
+"You have not, perchance, a touch of fever?"</p>
+<p>He eyed her hungrily. "If I have," he spoke with that slow
+gentleness she loved so well, "it is no fever that requires roots
+or herbs.... Shall I," he came a little closer, "shall I put a name
+to it, Senorita?" His words were for her ears alone. Her eyes
+smiled into his. "Come, let us show you the rose garden, Senor
+Stanley," she said with playful formality and placed her
+silk-gloved fingers on his arm.</p>
+<p>Senora Windham's hand groped for her husband's. There were tears
+in her eyes, but he bent down and kissed them away. "Anita, mia, do
+not grieve. He is a good lad."</p>
+<p>"It is not that." She hid her face against his shoulder. "It is
+not that--"</p>
+<p>"I understand," he whispered.</p>
+<p>After a little time Benito spoke. "Mother, I learned something
+from the warring of the rancheros aganist Alcalde Bartlett." He
+came forward and picked up the newspaper which had fallen from his
+mother's lap. "I learned," his hand fell on his father's shoulder,
+"that I am an American."</p>
+<p>"Benito!" said his mother quickly.</p>
+<p>"I am Don Roberto's son, as well as thine, remember, madre mia!"
+he spoke with unusual gentleness. "Even with Sanchez, Vasquez and
+Guerrero at my side in battle, I did not shoot to kill. Something
+said within, 'These men are brothers. They are of the clan of Don
+Roberto, of thy father.' So I shot to miss. And when the
+commandante, Senor Hull, dismissed me with kind words--he who might
+have hanged me as a traitor--my heart was full of love for all his
+people. And contrition. Mother, you will forgive? You, who have
+taught me all the pride of the Hidalgo. For I must say the truth,
+to you and everyone...." He knelt at her feet, impressing a kiss of
+love and reverence upon her outstretched hand.</p>
+<p>"Rise, my son," she said, tremulously. "You are right, and it is
+well." She smiled. "Who am I to say my boy is no Americano? I, who
+wed the best and noblest of them all."</p>
+<p>There was a little silence. Inez and Don Adrian, returning,
+paused a moment, half dismayed. "Come, my children," said Anita
+Windham.</p>
+<p>"Ah," cried Inez, teasingly, "we are not the only ones who have
+been making love." She led her companion forward. "We have come to
+ask your blessing, mother, father mine," she whispered. "I," her
+eyes fell, "I am taken captive by a gringo."</p>
+<p>"Do not use that name," her mother said reprovingly. But Don
+Roberto laughed. "You are the second to declare allegiance to the
+Stars and Stripes." He took Benito's hand. "My son's discovered
+he's American, Don Adrian."</p>
+<p>Presently Benito spoke again. "That is not all, my father. There
+is soon to be a meeting for relief of immigrants lost in the Sierra
+Nevada snows. James Reed will organize an expedition from
+Yerb--from San Francisco. And I wish to go. There are women and
+children starving, perhaps."</p>
+<p>"It is the Donner party. They tried a short cut and the winter
+overtook them. I, too, will go," said Don Roberto.</p>
+<p>"And I," volunteered Stanley.</p>
+<p>But the women had it otherwise. "You have been too long gone
+from me," Anita quavered. "I would fear your loss again." And Inez
+argued that her Adrian was not recovered from his wound or illness.
+Finally it was decided that Benito only would accompany the
+expedition. The talk fell upon other matters. Alcalde Bartlett had
+been discredited, though not officially, since his return from
+capture by the rancheros. He was soon to be displaced and there
+would be no further commandeering of horses and cattle.</p>
+<p>"The commandante tells me," Windham said, "that there is still
+no news of the Warren's launch which was sent last December to pay
+the garrison at Sutter's Fort. Bob Ridley's men, who cruised the
+San Joaquin and Sacramento rivers, found nothing."</p>
+<p>"But--the boat and its crew couldn't vanish completely?"
+Benito's tone held puzzled incredulity. "There would be Wreckage.
+Floating bodies--"</p>
+<p>"Unless," said Adrian, "they had been hidden--buried secretly,
+perhaps."</p>
+<p>"Adrian, what do you mean?" asked Inez in excitement. "It was
+about the time that--"</p>
+<p>"McTurpin left," responded Stanley. "I've heard more than a
+whisper of his possible connection with the disappearance. McTurpin
+didn't leave alone. He rounded up half a dozen rough-looking
+fellows and they rode out of town together."</p>
+<p>There was a silence. Then Benito spoke. "We haven't seen the
+last of him, I fear."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2>
+<h3>THE NEW YORK VOLUNTEERS</h3>
+<br>
+<p>It was almost a month later that Inez galloped home from San
+Francisco with a precious missive from the absent brother. They had
+outfitted at Johnson's ranch near Sacramento and, encountered the
+first expedition returning with twenty-two starved wretches from
+the Donner Camp. Many women and children still remained there.</p>
+<p>"We started on the day which is a gringo fete because it is the
+natal anniversary of the great George Washington," Benito's
+chronicle concluded. "May it prove a good omen, and may we bring
+freedom, life to the poor souls engulfed by the snowdrifts. I kiss
+your hands. BENITO."</p>
+<p>A fortnight passed before there came another letter. The second
+relief party had reached Donner Camp without mishap but, with
+seventeen survivors, had been storm-bound on a mountain summit and
+returned with but eleven of the rescued after frightful hardship.
+Benito was recuperating in a Sacramento hospital from frozen
+feet.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>"Look, Roberto," exclaimed Senora Windham as they cantered into
+San Francisco one morning. "A ship all gay with banners! See the
+townsfolk are excited. They rush to the Embarcadero. The band
+plays. It must be the festival of some Americano patron saint."</p>
+<p>"It is the long expected New York volunteers," replied her
+husband. "They've been recruited for the past year for service in
+California. Colonel Stevenson, the commander, is a most
+distinguished man. The president himself made him an offer of
+command if he could raise a regiment of California volunteers."
+Windham smiled. "I believe it is for colonization rather than
+actual military duty that they've been sent out here ... three
+shiploads of them with two doctors and a chaplain."</p>
+<p>As they picked their way along a narrow footpath toward the
+beach, the portly Leidesdorff advanced to greet them. "Would that I
+had a cloak of velvet," he said gallantly, "so that I might lay it
+in the mire at your feet, fair lady." Anita Windham flashed a smile
+at him. "Like the chivalrous Don Walter Raleigh," she responded.
+"Ah, but I am not a Queen Elizabeth. Nor is this London." She
+regarded with a shrug of distaste the stretch of mud-flats reaching
+to the tide-line, rubbish--littered and unfragrant. Knee-deep in
+its mire, bare-legged Indians and booted men drove piles for the
+superstructure of a new pier.</p>
+<p>Lieutenant Bryant joined them, brisk and natty in his naval
+garb. He was the new alcalde, Bartlett having been displaced and
+ordered to rejoin his ship.</p>
+<p>"No, it's not London," he took up Anita's statement, "but it's
+going to be a better San Francisco if I have my way. We'll fill
+that bog with sand and lay out streets between Fort Montgomery and
+the Rincon, if the governor'll cede the tide-flats to the town.
+Jasper O'Farrell is making a map."</p>
+<p>"See, they are landing," cried the Dona Windham, clapping her
+hands.</p>
+<p>A boat put off amid hails from the shore. Soon four officers and
+a boat's crew stood upon the landing pier and gazed about them
+curiously.</p>
+<p>"That's Colonel Stevenson," said Bryant, nodding toward the
+leader. On the verge of fifty, statesmanlike of mien and manner,
+stood the man who had recruited the first volunteer company which
+came around The Horn. He fingered his sword a bit awkwardly, as
+though unused to military dress formalities. But his eyes were keen
+and eager and commanding.</p>
+<p>More boats put off from the anchored vessel. By and by the
+parade began, led by Captain Stevenson. It was a straggling
+military formation that toiled up-hill through the sand toward
+Portsmouth Square. These men were from the byways and hedges of
+life. Some of them had shifty eyes and some bold, predatory glances
+which forebode nothing good for San Francisco's peace. Adventurers
+for the most part, lured to this new land, some by the wander
+spirit, others by a wish to free themselves from the restraints of
+law. Certain of them were to die upon the gallows; others were to
+be the proud and honored citizens of a raw, potential metropolis.
+They talked loudly, vehemently, to one another as they marched like
+school boys seeing strange sights, pointing eagerly at all that
+aroused their interest. The officers marched more stiffly as though
+conscious of official noblesse oblige.</p>
+<p>"I wish that Inez might have seen it," Mrs. Windham said a
+little wistfully. "But she must help the Indian seamstress with her
+gown for the dance. Don Adrian is to be there."</p>
+<p>"He has decided that there are other ways of serving God than in
+the pulpit," remarked Stanley. "They talk of making him the master
+of the school ... if our committee can ever decide on a location
+and what's to pay for it."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>In the full regimentals of his rank, Colonel Stevenson graced
+Leidesdorff's ballroom that evening, cordially exchanging smiles
+and bows with San Francisco's citizenry. Besides him was his
+quartermaster, Captain Joseph Folsom who, though less than thirty,
+had seen active service in a Florida campaign against the
+Seminoles. He held himself slightly aloof with the class
+consciousness of the West Pointer.</p>
+<p>Nearby stood a lanky surgeon of the volunteers discussing
+antiseptics with Dr. Jones. Leidesdorff was everywhere,
+pathetically eager to please, an ecstatic, perspiring figure,
+making innumerable inquiries as to the comfort of his guests.</p>
+<p>"He's like a mother hen worried over a brood of new chicks,"
+said Brannan to Jasper O'Farrell.</p>
+<p>"And a damned fine little man," the Irishman answered. "Oh--I
+beg your pardon, Senorita."</p>
+<p>Inez Windham smiled forgiveness, nodding when he asked her for a
+dance. "Tell me," she asked eagerly, "of the grand new map you make
+for San Francisco."</p>
+<p>"Ah," O'Farrell said, "they laugh at it because I have to change
+Vioget's acute and obtuse angles. They call it 'O'Farrell's Swing.'
+You see, I've had to change the direction of some streets. There
+are many more now. Eight hundred acres laid out like a city."</p>
+<p>As the music stopped he led her to a bench and fumbled in his
+pocket for a drawing which he straightened on his knees. "See, here
+is a new road through the center, a broad way, straight as an arrow
+from the bay to the foot of Twin Peaks. It parallels the Mission
+camino, and Bryant wants to call it Market street."</p>
+<p>"But how is this?" asked Inez puzzled, "streets where there is
+only mud and water--"</p>
+<p>"They will be reclaimed with the waste from our leveled sand
+hills," said O'Farrell. He glanced about him searchingly, then
+whispered: "Tonight Governor Mason told me confidentially he would
+cede the tide flats to our local government, provided they are sold
+at auction for the benefit of San Francisco. They'll go cheap; but
+some day they'll be worth thousands. Tell your father--"</p>
+<p>He broke off hastily. Toward them stalked Benito Windham,
+covered with dust as though from a long ride. There was trouble in
+his eyes. With a swift apology he drew his sister aside.
+"McTurpin," he panted. "He is back ... with a dozen men ... riding
+toward the rancho."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+<h3>THE "SYDNEY DUCKS"</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Dazed with the suddenness of Benito's announcement and its
+menacing augury, Inez sought her father and Adrian. The latter
+acted instantly. "Do not tell your wife," he said to Windham.
+"There may be nothing amiss. And if there should be, she will find
+no profit in knowing. Tell her you are called away and follow me to
+the square. We will ride at once to the rancho."</p>
+<p>He pressed Inez' hand and was gone. "Take care of your mother,"
+he said over his shoulder, an admonition which Don Roberto repeated
+a moment later as he hurried out. She was left alone in a maze of
+doubts, fears, speculations. What was McTurpin doing in San
+Francisco? Why had he and his companions ridden toward the Windham
+rancho? There was only one answer. Most of the vaqueros were at a
+fandango in the Mission. Only the serving women and a few men too
+old for dancing remained at home.</p>
+<p>Meawhile her brother, father, lover were speeding homeward, into
+what? A trap? An ambush? Certainly to battle with a foe
+out-numbering them four to one.</p>
+<p>At the Mission were a dozen of their servants; men whose fathers
+and grandfathers had ridden herd for her family. Any one of them
+would give his life to serve a Windham.</p>
+<p>Inez looked about her feverishly. Should she ask O'Farrell to
+accompany her? He was dancing with one of the Mormon women. Brannan
+and Spear were not to be seen. Leidesdorff was impossible in such
+an emergency. Besides, she could not take him from his guests. She
+would go alone, decided Inez. Quietly she made her way to the
+cloak-room, in charge of an Indian servant, caught up her mantilla
+and riding crop and fled. On the square her horse whinnied at her
+approach as if eager to be gone. Swiftly she climbed into the
+saddle and spurred forward.</p>
+<p>Far ahead gleamed the lights of the Mission. They were making
+merry there with the games and dance of old Spain. And to the south
+Benito, Adrian, her father, rode toward a battle with treacherous
+men. Breathlessly she spurred her horse to greater effort. Trees
+flashed by like witches in the dark. Presently she heard the music
+of the fandango.</p>
+<p>Another picture framed itself before her vision. Excited faces
+round her. A sudden stoppage of the music, a frocked priest making
+anxious inquiries. Her own wild words; a jingle of spurs. Then many
+hoofs pounding on the road beside her.</p>
+<p>She never knew just what had happened, what she had said. But
+now she felt the sting of the bay breeze in her face and Antonio's
+steady hand upon her saddle pommel.</p>
+<p>"Caramba!" he was muttering. "The pig of a gringo once more. And
+your father; the little Benito. Hurry, comrades, faster! faster! To
+the rescue!"</p>
+<p>Came a third picture, finally more clear, more disconcerting.
+The entrance to her father's ranch barred by armed riders. McTurpin
+smiling insolent in the moonlight, bowing to her while Antonio
+muttered in suppressed wrath.</p>
+<p>"We have three hostages here, senorita ... relatives of yours
+and ah--a friend." His voice, cold, threatening, spoke on. "They
+are unharmed--as yet."</p>
+<p>"I don't believe you," Inez stormed at him.</p>
+<p>"Tell them, Senor Windham," said McTurpin, "that I speak the
+truth."</p>
+<p>"Inez, it is true," her father spoke out of some shadowed
+darkness. "We were ambushed. Taken by surprise."</p>
+<p>"What do you propose?" asked Antonio, unable longer to restrain
+himself.</p>
+<p>"To turn them loose ... upon their word not to trouble us
+further," said McTurpin. "I have merely assumed control of my
+property. I hold the conveyance of Benito Windham. It is all quite
+regular," he laughed shortly.</p>
+<p>Antonio moved uneasily. His hand upon the lariat itched for a
+cast. McTurpin saw it. "You'll do well to sit still in the saddle,"
+he reminded, "all of you. We have you covered."</p>
+<p>"What are your orders, master?" said the chief vaquero tensely.
+"Say the word and we will--"</p>
+<p>"No," commanded Windham. "There shall be no fighting now. We
+will go. Tomorrow we shall visit the Alcalde. I can promise no more
+than this."</p>
+<p>"It's enough," McTurpin answered. "I've possession. I've a deed
+with your son's signature. And a dozen good friends to uphold me."
+He turned. "Take their pistols, friends, and let them go."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>George Hyde looked up from a sheaf of drawing which lay on the
+table before him and which represented the new survey of San
+Francisco. A boy with a bundle of papers under his arm entered
+unannounced, tossed a copy of "The California Star" toward him and
+departed. Hyde picked it up and read:</p>
+<blockquote>"GREAT SALE OF VALUABLE REAL ESTATE IN<br>
+THE TOWN OF SAN FRANCISCO, UPPER CALIFORNIA.<br>
+<br>
+"By the following decree of His Excellency, General S.W. Kearny,
+Governor of California, all the right, title and interest of the
+United States and of the territory of California to the BEACH AND
+WATER lots on the east front of the town of San Francisco have been
+granted, conveyed and released to the people or corporate
+authorities of said town--"</blockquote>
+<br>
+<p>Hyde read on. There was a post-script by Edwin Bryant, his
+predecessor as alcalde, calling a public sale for June 29. That was
+rather soon. But he would see. Hyde had an antipathy to any rule or
+circumstance fixed by another. His enemies called him "pig-headed";
+his friends "forceful," though with a sigh. There was something
+highhanded in the look and manner of him, though few men had better
+intent. Now his glance fell on another, smaller item in the
+newspaper.</p>
+<blockquote>"SYDNEY DUCKS ARRIVE."<br>
+<br>
+"In recent vessels from the antipodes have come numerous men from
+Australia who, according to rumor, are deported English criminals,
+known as 'Sydney Ducks.' It is said that the English government
+winks at the escape of these birds of ill omen, who are lured
+hither by tales of our lawlessness carried by sailormen. It is high
+time we had a little more law in San Francisco."</blockquote>
+<br>
+<p>That was another of his problems, Hyde reflected irritably.
+"Sydney Ducks." There would be many more no doubt, for San
+Francisco was growing. It had 500 citizens, irrespective of the New
+York volunteers; 157 buildings. He would need helpers in the task
+of city-governing. Half idly he jotted down the names of men that
+would prove good henchmen:</p>
+<p>"William A. Leidesdorff, Robert A. Parker, Jose P. Thompson,
+Pedro Sherreback, John Rose, Benjamin Buckalew."</p>
+<p>It had a cosmopolitan smack, though it ignored some prominent
+and capable San Franciscans. William Clark, for instance, with whom
+Washington Bartlett had quarreled over town lots, Dr. Elbert Jones
+and William Howard. Hyde was not certain whether they would be
+amenable to his program. Well, he would see.</p>
+<p>A shadow loomed in his doorway. He looked up to see Adrian
+Stanley and Robert Windham.</p>
+<p>"Come in. Come in." He tried to speak cordially, but there was a
+shade of irritation in his tone. They, too, were a problem.</p>
+<p>"Be seated," he invited, as the two men entered. But they stood
+before him rather stiffly.</p>
+<p>"Is there any--news?" asked Adrian.</p>
+<p>"Nothing favorable," said Hyde uneasily. He made an impatient
+gesture. "You can see for yourselves, gentlemen, that my hands are
+tied. The man--what's-his-name?--McTurpin, has a perfectly correct
+conveyance signed by your son. Benito, I understand, does not deny
+his signature. And his right is unquestioned, for the property came
+to him direct from his uncle, who was Francisco Garvez' only
+son."</p>
+<p>"But--" began Adrian hotly.</p>
+<p>"Yes, yes, I know," Hyde interrupted. "The man is a rascal. But
+what of that? It does not help us; I have no power to aid you,
+gentlemen."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
+<h3>THE AUCTION ON THE BEACH</h3>
+<br>
+<p>It was the morning of July 20. Fog drifts rode the bay like huge
+white swans, shrouding the Island of Alcatraz with a rise and fall
+of impalpable wings and casting many a whilom plume over the tents
+and adobe houses nestling between sandhills and scrub-oaks in the
+cove of San Francisco.</p>
+<p>Robert and Benito Windham, on the hill above Clark's Point,
+looked down toward the beach, where a crowd was gathering for the
+auction of tidewater lots. The Windhams, since their dispossession
+by McTurpin, had been guests of hospitable Juana Briones. Through
+the Alcalde's order they had secured their personal effects. But
+the former gambler still held right and title to the Windham acres.
+Adrian Stanley made his home at the City Hotel and had been
+occupied with an impromptu school where some four score children
+and half a dozen illiterates were daily taught the mysteries of the
+"Three Rs."</p>
+<p>"Adrian has determined to buy some of these mud-lots," said
+Windham to his son. "He believes some day they will be valuable and
+that he will make his fortune." He sighed. "I fear my son-to-be is
+something of a visionary."</p>
+<p>Benito gave his father a quick, almost furtive glance. "Do not
+condemn him for that," he said, with a hint of reproach. "Adrian is
+far-sighted, yes; but not a dreamer."</p>
+<p>"What can he do with a square of bog that is covered half of the
+time by water?" asked Windham.</p>
+<p>"Ah," Benito said, "we've talked that over, Adrian and I. Adrian
+has a plan of reclamation. An engineering project for leveling
+sandhills by contract and using the waste to cover his land. He has
+already arranged for ox-teams and wagons. It is perfectly feasible,
+my father."</p>
+<p>Robert Windham smiled at the other's enthusiasm. "Perhaps you
+are right," he said. "God grant it--and justify your faith in that
+huddle of huts below."</p>
+<p>Below them a man had mounted an improvised platform. He was
+waving his arms, haranguing an ever-growing audience. Benito
+stirred uneasily. "I must go," he said. "I promised Adrian to join
+him."</p>
+<p>"Very well," returned his father. He watched the slight and
+supple figure riding down the slope.</p>
+<p>Slowly he made his way back to the Rancho Briones. His wife met
+him at the gate.</p>
+<p>"Juana and Inez have gone to the sale," she announced. "Shall we
+join them in the pueblo later on?"</p>
+<p>"Nay, Anita," he said, "unless you wish it.... I have no faith
+in mire."</p>
+<p>She looked up at him anxiously. "Roberto! I grieve to hear it.
+They--" she checked herself.</p>
+<p>"They--what, my love?" he asked curiously.</p>
+<p>"They have gone to buy," said Anita. "Juana has great faith. She
+has considerable money. And Inez has taken her jewels--even a few
+of mine. The Senor O'Farrell whispered to her at the ball that the
+lots would sell for little and their value would increase
+immensely."</p>
+<p>"So, that is why Benito has his silver-mounted harness," Windham
+spoke half to himself. He smiled a little ruefully. "You are all
+gamblers, dreamers.... You dear ones of Spanish heritage."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>On the beach a strangely varied human herd pressed close around
+a platform upon which stood Samuel Brannan and Alcalde Hyde. The
+former had promised to act as auctioneer and looked over a sheaf of
+notes while Hyde in his dry, precise and positive tone read the
+details of the forthcoming sale. It would last three days, Hyde
+informed his hearers, and 450 lots would be sold. North of the
+broad street paralleling the Mission Camino lots were sixteen and a
+half varas wide and fifty varas deep. All were between the limits
+of low and high water mark.</p>
+<p>"What's a vara?" shouted a new arrival.</p>
+<p>"A Spanish yard," explained Hyde, "about thirty-three and a
+third inches of English measure. Gentlemen, you are required to
+fence your lots and build a house within a year. The fees for
+recording and deed will be $3.62, and the terms of payment are a
+fourth down, the balance in equal payments during a period of
+eighteen months."</p>
+<p>"How about the lots that lie south?" cried a voice.</p>
+<p>"They are one hundred varas square, same terms, same fees,"
+replied Hyde. He stepped down and Brannan began his address.</p>
+<p>"The site of San Francisco is known to all navigators and
+mercantile men to be the most commanding commercial position on the
+entire eastern coast of the Pacific Ocean," he shouted, quoting
+from former Alcalde Bryant's announcement of three months previous.
+"The town itself is destined to become the commercial emporium of
+western America."</p>
+<p>"Bravo!" supplemented the Dona Briones, waving her fan. She was
+the center of a little group composed of Benito and Inez Windham,
+Adrian Stanley and Nathan Spear. Near them, keeping out of their
+observance, stood Aleck McTurpin.</p>
+<p>"The property offered for sale is the most valuable in or
+belonging to the town," Brannan went on, enthusiastically; "it will
+require work to make it tenable. You'll have to wrest it from the
+waves, gentlemen ... and ladies," he bowed to Juana and her
+companion, "but, take my word for it--and I've never deceived
+you--everyone who buys will bless my memory half a dozen years from
+now...."</p>
+<p>"Why don't ye get in yerself and practice what ye preach?" cried
+a scoffing sailor.</p>
+<p>Brannan looked him up and down. "Because I'm trying to serve the
+commonwealth--which is more than a drunken deserter from his ship
+can claim," he shot back hotly, "but I'm going to buy my share,
+never fear. Bill Leidesdorff's my agent. He has $5,000 and my power
+of attorney. That's fair enough, isn't it boys? Or, shall we let
+the sailor act as auctioneer?"</p>
+<p>"No! No!" a dozen cried. "'Rah for Sam. Go on! You're doin'
+fine!"</p>
+<p>"Thank you," Brannan acknowledged. "Who's to make the first bid?
+Speak up, now, don't be bashful."</p>
+<p>"Twenty-five dollars," called Juana Briones.</p>
+<p>"Thirty," said a voice behind her, a voice that caused young
+Windham and his sister to start, involuntarily. "McTurpin,"
+whispered Inez to Adrian.</p>
+<p>"Thirty-five," spoke Juana, imperturbably.</p>
+<p>"Forty."</p>
+<p>Brannan looked straight into McTurpin's eyes. "Sold to Juana
+Briones for thirty-five dollars," he said, as his improvised gavel
+fell on the table before him.</p>
+<p>"I bid forty!" stormed McTurpin. All eyes turned to him. But
+Brannan paid him no attention. Someone laughed.</p>
+<p>"Next! Who bids?" invited the auctioneer.</p>
+<p>"Twenty-five," began Benito.</p>
+<p>This time there were other bidders, all of whom Brannan
+recognized courteously and promptly. Finally, Benito's bid of fifty
+seemed to win. Then McTurpin shouted, "Fifty-five!"</p>
+<p>Brannan waited for a moment. There were no more bids. "Sold to
+Benito Windham for fifty dollars," he announced.</p>
+<p>"Curse you!" cried the gambler, pushing forward, "you heard me
+bid higher, Sam Brannan!"</p>
+<p>Into his path stepped the tall figure of Robert Windham. "We are
+not taking bids from convicts," he said, loudly and distinctly.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2>
+<h3>THE BEGINNING OF LAW</h3>
+<br>
+<p>McTurpin's look of blind astonishment at Windham's words was
+succeeded by a whitehot fury. Two eyes gleamed with snake-like
+venom and two spots of red glowed in his cheeks, as though each had
+felt the impact of a sudden blow. For a moment he neither moved nor
+spoke. Then a hand, which trembled slightly, made a lightning move
+toward his hip.</p>
+<p>"I wouldn't," drawled the voice of Robert Windham. His right
+hand, loosely in a pocket of his coat, moved slightly. "I've got
+you covered, Sydney Duck McTurpin ... if that's your real
+name."</p>
+<p>The other's hand fell at his side. The two men's glances
+countered, held each other, one calm, dignified, unafraid; the
+other, murderous, searching, baffled. Presently, McTurpin turned
+and strode away. Windham looked after the departing gambler.
+"'Fraid I've spoiled his morning," he remarked to Nathan Spear.</p>
+<p>"Yes--to chance a knife or bullet in the back," retorted Spear,
+uneasily. Their further confidence was drowned in Brannan's
+exhortations: "On with the sale, boys," he shouted. "The side
+show's over ... with nobody hurt, thank Heaven! What'll you bid for
+a lot in the southern part of town? They're a hundred varas
+square--four times as big as the others. Not as central, maybe, but
+in ten years I bet they'll bring a thousand dollars. What's bid for
+a south lot, my hearties?"</p>
+<p>"Twenty-five dollars," said Inez Windham.</p>
+<p>"Oh, come, now, Senorita," cried the auctioneer, intriguingly,
+"twenty-five dollars for a hundred-vara lot. Have you no more faith
+in San Francisco?"</p>
+<p>"Its--all I have...." the girl spoke almost in a whisper.</p>
+<p>Brannan frowned. He looked about him threateningly. "Does anyone
+bid higher than Miss Windham?" he demanded. There was no response.
+Brannan's gavel fell, decisively. "Sold!" he cried, and half a
+dozen voices cheered.</p>
+<p>Inez Windham made her way to the auctioneer's stand and handed
+three banknotes to Alcalde Hyde. "But, my dear young lady," he
+expostulated, "you need only pay a fourth of the money down. Six
+dollars and a quarter is enough."</p>
+<p>"Oh," said Inez, "then I could have bought more, couldn't I!"
+She turned to Brannan, eagerly. "I could have bought four lots--if
+I'd only known."</p>
+<p>Brannan smiled at her. Then he turned to the crowd. "What d'ye
+say, boys, shall we let her have 'em?" he inquired. Instantly the
+answer came: "Yes, yes, give her the four. God bless her. She'll
+bring us luck."</p>
+<p>Impulsively, Inez mounted the platform; astonished at her own
+temerity, at the exuberance of some new freedom, springing from the
+barriers of a shielded life, she shouted at these strange, rough
+men about her: "Thank you, gentlemen!" Then her mother's look of
+horrified, surprise brought a sudden red into her cheeks. She
+turned and fled. Her father smiled, indulgently; Anita's frown
+changed presently into a look of whimsical, perplexed affection. "I
+am always forgetting, Inez mia," she said, softly, "that this is a
+new day--the day of the Americano."</p>
+<p>She watched Benito shouting bids at the side of Adrian, vying
+with such men as Howard, Mellus, Clark and Leidesdorff in the quest
+for lots. "Fifty of them have been sold already," Windham told her.
+"The auction will last three days because there are four hundred
+more."</p>
+<p>Suddenly, Anita Windham put forth a hand and touched that of her
+husband. "Buy one, for me, Roberto," she pleaded.</p>
+<p>"But--" he hesitated, "Anita carissima, what will you do with a
+rectangle of mire in this rough, unsettled place?"</p>
+<p>"For sentiment," she answered, softly, "in memory of my father,
+who had such abundant faith in San Francisco.... And, perhaps, Don
+Samuel is right. We may yet bless his name."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>The summer of 1847 had passed. Inez Windham was the wife of
+Adrian Stanley. He had given up his school for larger matters.
+Every day his ox-teams struggled over sandy bottoms to the tune of
+snapping whips and picturesque profanity by Indian drivers. Men
+with shovels leveling the sand hills, piled the wagons high with
+shimmering white grains which were carried to the shore and dumped
+into pile-surrounded bogs till the tides left them high and dry.
+San Francisco reached farther and farther into the bay, wresting
+irregular nooks and corners from the ebbing-flowing waters,
+building rickety, improvised piers, sometimes washed out by the
+northers which unexpectedly came down with tempestuous fury.
+Quaint, haphazard buildings made their appearance, strange
+architectural mushrooms grown almost over night, clapboarded
+squares with paper or muslin partitions for inner walls. Under some
+the tides washed at their full and small craft discharged cargoes
+at their back doors. Ships came from Boston, Bremen, Sitka, Chile,
+Mexico, the Sandwich Islands, bringing all manner of necessities
+and luxuries. Monthly mails had been established between San
+Francisco and San Diego, as well as intermediate points, and there
+was talk of a pony express to Independence, Missouri.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>There were many crimes of high and low degree, from rifled tills
+to dead men found half buried in the sands. Rumor told of thieves
+and murderers encamped in the hollow bowl of a great sandhill,
+where they slept or caroused by day, venturing forth only at night.
+Aleck McTurpin's name was now and then associated with them as a
+leader. Men were importing safes from the States and carrying
+derringers at night--even the peaceful Mormons. At this time
+Governor Mason addressed to Alcalde Hyde an order for the election
+of a Town Council.</p>
+<p>Adrian was full of these doings when he came home from an
+executive session before which he had appeared as an expert on
+reclamation. "They are good men, Inez," he declared,
+enthusiastically. "They'll bring law to San Francisco. And law is
+what we need more than all else, my dear."</p>
+<p>"And how will they go about it, with no prison-house, no courts
+or judges?" asked Inez, wonderingly.</p>
+<p>"Oh, those will soon be provided," he assured, "When there is a
+will for law the machinery comes." He smiled grimly. "McTurpin and
+his ilk had better look to themselves.... We are going after the
+gamblers."</p>
+<br>
+<a name="page084.jpg"></a>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/page084.jpg" width="85%" alt=
+""><br>
+<b>Men with shovels, leveling the sand-hills, piled the wagons high
+with shimmering grains which were ... dumped into pile-surrounded
+bogs. San Francisco reached farther and farther out into the
+bay.</b></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2>
+<h3>GOLD! GOLD! GOLD!</h3>
+<br>
+<p>San Francisco never could remember when the first rumor of gold
+reached it. Gold was to mean its transformation from a struggling
+town into a turbulent, riotous city, a mecca of the world's
+adventurers.</p>
+<p>Benito Windham, early in the spring of '48 brought home an echo
+of it from San Jose. One of Sutter's teamsters had exchanged a
+little pouch of golden grains for a flask of aguardiente. Afterward
+he had told of finding it in the tail-race of Marshall's mill on
+the south fork of the American River. Little credence had been
+given his announcements. In the south, near San Fernando Mission,
+gold had long ago been found, but not in sufficient quantities to
+allure the fortune hunter.</p>
+<p>"See, is it not pretty?" asked Benito, pouring out a handful of
+the shining stuff which he had purchased from the teamster.</p>
+<p>"Pretty, yes, but what's it worth?" asked Adrian, dubiously.</p>
+<p>"Some say it's true value is $16 for an ounce," responded Inez,
+her eyes shining. "Samuel Brannan had a letter from a member of his
+band who says they wash it from the river sand in pans."</p>
+<p>"Sam's skeptical, though," retorted Stanley. "And, as for me,
+I've a mine right here in San Francisco." He spoke
+enthusiastically. "Moving sandhills into the bay. Making a new city
+front out of flooded bogs! That's realism. Romance. And what's
+better, fortune! Isn't it, my girl?"</p>
+<p>Inez' eyes were proud. "Fortune, yes, and not a selfish one. For
+it is making others richer, San Francisco better."</p>
+<p>"Which is well enough for you," returned Benito with a hint of
+sullenness. "But I am tired of clerking for Ward &amp; Smith at two
+dollars a day. There's no romance in that." With a quick, restless
+motion he ran the golden dust through his fingers again. "I hope
+they are true, these stories. And if they are--" he looked at the
+others challengingly, "then I'm off to the mines, muy pronto."</p>
+<p>"Come," said Stanley, "let us have a game of chess together."
+But Benito, with a muttered apology, left them and went out. San
+Francisco had streets now, since the O'Farrell survey's adoption by
+the council. The old Calle de Fundacion had become Dupont street
+and below it was Kearny street, named after the General and former
+Governor. To the west were parallel roads, scarcely worthy of the
+name of thoroughfares, christened in honor of Commodore Stockton,
+Surgeon Powell of the sloop-of-war Warren, Dr. Elbert Jones,
+Governor Mason, Chaplain Leavenworth, the present Alcalde, and
+George Hyde, the former one. Thomas Larkin, former counsel at
+Monterey, was also to be distinguished. East and west the streets
+had more haphazard names. Broadway and California were the widest,
+aside from the projected Market street, which would have a lordly
+breadth of 120 feet. Some were named after Presidents--Jackson,
+Washington and Clay.</p>
+<p>The council had authorized two long wharves, one at the foot of
+Clay street, 547 feet long. This was a great undertaking and had
+caused much discussion pro and con. But now it was almost completed
+and a matter of much civic pride. Large ships, anchored at its
+terminus, were discharging cargo, and thither Benito bent his
+course, head bent, hat pulled well down on his forehead, until a
+rousing slap on the back spun him around almost angrily. He looked
+into the wise and smiling eyes of Edward C. Kemble.</p>
+<p>"Well, lad," the editor of the <i>Californian Star</i> accosted,
+"I hear you've been to San Jose. What's new up there, if I may ask
+you?"</p>
+<p>"Very little ... nothing," said Benito, adding, "save the talk
+of gold at Marshall's mill."</p>
+<p>"Pooh!" exclaimed the editor. "Marshall's mill, and Mormon
+island! One would think the famous fairy tale of El Dorado had come
+true."</p>
+<p>"You place no credence in it, then?" asked Benito,
+disappointed.</p>
+<p>"Not I," said Kemble. "See here," he struck one fist into the
+palm of another. "All such balderdash is bad for San Francisco.
+We're trying to get ahead, grow, be a city. Look at the work going
+on. That means progress, sustained stimulus. And along come these
+stories of gold finds. It's the wrong time. The wrong time, I tell
+you. It'll interfere. If we get folks excited they'll pull out for
+the hills, the wilderness. Everything'll stop here.... Then, bye
+and bye, they'll come back--busted! Mark my words, BUSTED! Is that
+business? No."</p>
+<p>He went off shaking his head sagely. Benito puzzled, half
+resentful, gazed after him. He abandoned the walk to the dock and
+returned with low-spirited resignation to his tasks at Ward &amp;
+Smith's store.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>For several months gold rumors continued to come. Citizens,
+fearing ridicule, perhaps, slipped unobtrusively out of town, to
+test their truth. Kemble was back from a trip to the so-called gold
+fields. Editorially, he made sport of his findings. He had seen
+feather-brained fortune-seekers gambling hopelessly with fate,
+suffering untold hardships for half the pay they could have gained
+from "honest labor."</p>
+<p>Now and then a miner, dirty and disheveled, came in ragged
+clothes to gamble or drink away the contents of a pouch of "dust."
+It was at first received suspiciously. Barkeepers took "a pinch for
+a drink," meaning what they could grasp with their fingers, and one
+huge-fisted man estimated that this method netted him three dollars
+per glass.</p>
+<p>San Francisco awoke to a famine in butcher-knives, pans and
+candles. Knives at first were used to gouge out auriferous rock,
+and soon these common household appurtenances brought as high as
+twenty-five dollars each. Candles ere long were the equivalent of
+dollars, and pans were cheap at five dollars each.</p>
+<p>Still San Francisco waited, though a constant dribble of
+departures made at last perceptible inroads on its population.
+Then, one May afternoon, the fat was in the fire.</p>
+<p>Samuel Brannan, who had been at his store in New Helvetia, rode
+through the streets, holding a pint flask of gold-dust in one hand,
+swinging his hat with the other, and whooping like a madman:</p>
+<p>"Gold! Gold! Gold! From the American River!"</p>
+<p>As if he had applied a torch to the hayrick of popular interest,
+San Francisco flamed with fortune-seeking ardor. Next morning many
+stores remained unopened. There were neither clerks nor
+proprietors. Soldiers fled from the garrison, and Lieutenant
+William T. Sherman was seen galloping northward with a provost
+guard to recapture a score of deserters. Children found no teacher
+at the new schoolhouse and for months its doors were barred.
+Cargoes, half-discharged, lay on the wharves, unwarehoused. Crews
+left en masse for the mines, and ships floated unmanned at anchor.
+Many of them never went to sea again.</p>
+<p>On every road a hegira of the gold-mad swept northward, many
+afoot, with heavy burdens, the more fortunate with horses and pack
+animals. Men, old, young, richly dressed and ragged--men of all
+conditions, races, nations.</p>
+<p>The end of May, in 1848, found San Francisco a manless Eden.
+Stanley, struggling with a few elderly Indians and squaws to carry
+on his work, bemoaned the madcap folly bitterly.</p>
+<br>
+<a name="page088.jpg"></a>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/page088.jpg" width="85%" alt=
+""><br>
+<b>Samuel Brannan rode through the streets, holding a pint flask of
+gold-dust in one hand ... and whooping like a madman: "Gold! Gold!
+Gold! From the American River!"</b></p>
+<br>
+<p>But Benito, with shining eyes, rode on to what seemed Destiny
+and Fortune. Ward &amp; Smith's little shop lay far behind him.
+Even his sister and her busy husband. Before him beckoned Gold! The
+lure, adventure, danger of it, like a smiling woman. And his spirit
+stretched forth longing arms.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2>
+<h3>THE QUEST OF FORTUNE</h3>
+<br>
+<p>By the end of June more than half of San Francisco's population
+had departed for the mines. They went by varied routes, mostly on
+horseback. Rowboats, which a month ago had sold for $50, were now
+bringing ten times that sum, for many took the river route to the
+gold fields. Others toiled their way through the hills and the
+Livermore Valley. The ferry across Carquinez Straits at Benicia,
+was thronged to the danger of sinking.</p>
+<p>Those who stayed at home awaited eagerly the irregular mails
+which straggled in from unsettled, unorganized, often inaccessible
+regions where men cut and slashed the bowels of the earth for
+precious metal, or waded knee-deep in icy torrents, washing their
+sands in shallow containers for golden residue. No letter had come
+from Benito to Inez or Adrian. But Robert Windham wrote from
+Monterey as follows:</p>
+<p>"My Children: Monterey is mad with the gold-lust, and our
+citizens are departing with a haste that threatens depopulation.
+Until recently we had small belief in the tales of sudden fortune
+started by the finds at Marshall's mill. Alcalde Colton dispatched
+a messenger to the American River on the 6th of June, and, though
+he has not returned, others have brought the news he was sent to
+gain. On the 12th a man came into town with a nugget weighing an
+ounce and all Monterey Buzzed with excitement. Everyone wanted to
+test it with acids and microscopes. An old woman brought her ring
+and when placed side by side, the metal seemed identical; it was
+also compared with the gold knob of a cane. Some declare it a
+humbug, but it is generally believed to be genuine gold.</p>
+<p>"Governor Mason, who has been messing with Alcalde Colton and a
+naval officer named Lieutenant Lanman, is now compelled to bake his
+own bread. The trio roast their coffee and cook what meals they
+eat. Even the negro who blacked their boots went gold hunting and
+returned after a few weeks with $2000.</p>
+<p>"Yesterday I met a rough-looking fellow who appeared to be
+starving. He had a sack on his shoulder in which was gold-dust and
+nuggets worth $15,000. You should have seen him a few hours
+later--all perfumed and barbered, with shiny boots; costly,
+ill-fitting clothes and a marvelous display of jewelry.</p>
+<p>"Alcalde Colton is going to the mines next month. He laughed
+when he told me of Henry Bee, the alguacil or jailor of San Jose.
+This man had charge of ten prisoners, some of whom were Indians,
+charged with murder. He tried to turn them over to the alcalde, but
+the latter was at the mines. So Bee took his prisoners with him. It
+is said their digging has already made him rich and that he'll let
+them loose. There is no one to chide him. And no one to care."</p>
+<p>Later in the day Sam Brannan and Editor Kemble looked in on the
+Stanleys. "It's sheer insanity!" exploded Kemble. "The soldiers
+have gone--left their wives and their children to starve. Even the
+church is locked. Governor Mason has threatened martial law in the
+mining regions, which are filled with cutthroats and robbers. It's
+said he contemplates giving furloughs of two or three months to the
+gold-fevered troops which remain. Was there ever such idiocy?"</p>
+<p>"You're wrong, Ed," Brannan told him. "This gold boom is the
+biggest thing that's ever happened. It'll bring the world to our
+door. Why, Mason has reported that gold enough's been taken from
+the mines already to pay for the Mexican war."</p>
+<p>"Bah!" cried Kemble, and stalked out muttering. Brannan laughed.
+"He's riding his hobby consistently. But he'll come down. So you've
+had no news from Benito?"</p>
+<p>"No," said Inez gloomily. "Perhaps it is too soon. Perhaps he
+has had no luck to tell us of as yet. But I wish he would write
+just a line."</p>
+<p>"Well, well, cheer up, my dear," said Brannan, reassuringly.
+"Benito can take care of himself. Next week I return to my store in
+the gold lands, and I'll have an eye out for the lad. How does your
+work go, Adrian?"</p>
+<p>"Poorly," answered Stanley. "Labor's too high to make money.
+Why, the common laborers who were satisfied with a dollar a day,
+now ask ten, and mechanics twenty. Even the Indians and the
+immigrants learn at once the crazy price of service."</p>
+<p>"San Francisco. Port o' Gold!" apostrophized the Mormon gaily.
+He went on his way with a friendly wave of the hand. His steps were
+bent toward Alcalde Hyde's headquarters. Hyde had made many enemies
+by his set, opinionated ways. There was talk of putting Rev.
+Thaddeus Leavenworth in his place. But Brannan was by no means
+certain this would solve the problem. He missed Leidesdorff sadly.
+The latter's sudden death had left a serious hiatus. He was used to
+talking problems over with the genial, hospitable Dane, whose
+counsel was always placid, well considered.</p>
+<p>Congress had failed to provide a government for California. San
+Francisco grumbled; more than all other towns she needed law.
+Stevenson's regiment had been disbanded; its many irresponsibles,
+held previously in check by military discipline, now indulged their
+bent for lawlessness, unstinted. Everything was confusion.
+Gold-dust was the legal tender, but its value was unfixed. The
+government accepted it at $10 per ounce, with the privilege of
+redemption in coin.</p>
+<p>The problem of land grants was becoming serious. There were more
+than hints of the alcalde's speculation; of illegal favors shown to
+friends, undue restrictions placed on others. Brannan shook his
+head as he climbed Washington street hill toward the alcalde's
+office. In the plaza stood a few mangy horses, too decrepit for
+sale to gold seekers. Gambling houses and saloons ringed the square
+and from these proceeded drunken shouts, an incessant click of
+poker chips; now and then a burst of song.</p>
+<p>The sound of a shot swung him swiftly about. It came from the
+door of a noisy and crowded mart of chance recently erected, but
+already the scene of many quarrels. The blare of music which had
+issued from it swiftly ceased. There was a momentary silence; then
+a sound of shuffling feet, of whispering voices.</p>
+<p>A man ran out into the street as if the devil were after him;
+another followed, staggering, a pistol in his hand. He fired one
+shot and then collapsed with horrid suddenness at Brannan's feet.
+The other man ran into Portsmouth Square, vaulted to the saddle of
+a horse and spurred furiously away.</p>
+<p>Brannan stooped over the fallen figure. It was that of a brawny,
+bearded man, red-shirted, booted, evidently a miner. That he was
+mortally wounded his gazing eyes gave evidence. Yet such was his
+immense vitality that he muttered, clutching at his throat--staving
+off dissolution with the mighty passionate vehemence of some
+dominating purpose. Brannan bent to listen.</p>
+<p>"Write," he gasped, and Brannan, with an understanding nod,
+obeyed. "I bequeath my claim ... south fork ... American River ...
+fifty feet from end of Lone Pine's shadow ... sunset ... to my pard
+... Benito Wind--" His voice broke, but his eyes watched Brannan's
+movements as the latter wrote. Dying hands grasped paper, pencil
+... signed a scrawling signature, "Joe Burthen." Then the head
+dropped back, rolled for a moment and lay still.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
+<h3>NEWS OF BENITO</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Brannan turned from contemplation of the dead to find himself
+surrounded by a curious, questioning group. A bartender, coatless,
+red-faced, grasping in one hand a heavy bung-starter as if it were
+a weapon of defense; a gambler, sleeves rolled up, five cards
+clutched in nervous fingers; half a dozen sailors, vaqueros, a
+ragged miner or two and several shortskirted young women of the
+class that had recently drifted into the hectic night-life of San
+Francisco. All were whispering excitedly. Some of the men, with a
+show of reverence, removed their hats.</p>
+<p>"Do you know who did this?" Brannan asked.</p>
+<p>"I saw it," cried one of the women. She was dressed as a Spanish
+dancer and in one hand held a tambourine and castanets. "They
+fight," she gave a little smirk of vanity, "about me."</p>
+<p>Brannan recognized her as Rosa Terranza, better known as
+Ensenada Rose. She had been the cause of many rivalries and
+quarrels.</p>
+<p>"Dandy" Carter, the gambler, let down his sleeves and thrust the
+cards into his pocket.</p>
+<p>"Rose was dealin' faro," he explained, "and this galoot here
+bucks the game.... He lose. You un'erstan'. He lose a lot o' dust
+... as much as forty ounces. Then--just like that--he stops." The
+gambler snapped his fingers. "He says, 'My little gal; my partner!
+God Almighty! I'm a-wrongin' them!' He starts to go, but Rose acts
+mighty sympathetic and he tells her all about the kid."</p>
+<p>"Hees little girl," the dancer finished. "I say we dreenk her
+health together, and he tell me of the senorita. He draw a picture
+of his claim with trees and river and a mountain--ver' fine, like
+an artist. And he say, 'You come and marry me and be a mother to my
+child'." She laughed grimly. "He was ver' much drunk ... and
+then--"</p>
+<p>"That Sydney Duck comes in," said Dandy Carter. "He sits down at
+the table with 'em. They begins to quarrel over Rose. And the fust
+I knows there was a gun went off; the girl yells and the other man
+vamooses, with this feller staggerin' after."</p>
+<p>"He shot from under the table," a sailor volunteered. "'Twas
+murder. Where I come from they'd a-hanged him for't."</p>
+<p>"But who was he?" Brannan asked the question in another form.
+The girl and Dandy Carter looked at one another, furtively.
+"I--don't know his name," the girl said, finally.</p>
+<p>"Don't any of you?" Brannan's tone was searching. But it brought
+no answer. Several shook their heads. Ensenada Rose shivered. "It's
+cold. I go back in," she said, and turned from them. Brannan
+stopped her with a sudden gesture. "Wait," he ordered. "Where's the
+map ... the paper this man showed you ... of his mine?"</p>
+<p>Ensenada Rose's eyes looked into Brannan's, with a note of
+challenge her chin went up. "Quien sabe?" she retorted. Brannan
+watched the slender, graceful figure vanish through the lighted
+door. In her trail the gambler and bartender followed. Presently a
+burst of music issued from the groggery; a tap-tap-tap of feet in
+rhythm to the click of castanets. Already the tragedy was
+forgotten. Brannan found himself face to face with the sailor.
+"I'll help you carry him--somewhere," he said. He raised the dead
+man's shoulders from the ground, and Brannan, following his
+suggestion, took the other end of the grim burden, which they bore
+to the City Hotel. Brannan, in the presence of Alcalde Hyde,
+searched Burthen's clothing for the plan which Rosa had described.
+But they did not find it; only a buckskin bag with a few grains of
+gold-dust at the bottom, a jackknife, a plug of tobacco, a
+scratched daguerreotype of a young girl with corkscrew curls and
+friendly eyes.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Next evening Nathan Spear chanced in to see the Stanleys. "Sam
+Brannan's gone," he told them. "Said he'd let you know about
+Benito. And here's a letter from Alcalde Colton of Monterey--who's
+at the gold-fields now."</p>
+<p>"Has he seen my brother?" Inez questioned, eagerly.</p>
+<p>Spear began to read: "Young Benito Windham has been near here
+for a fortnight. I am told, without much luck, He had to sell his
+horse and saddle, for the price of living is enormous; finally he
+paired off with a man named Burthen--strapping, bearded Kansan with
+a little daughter, about 17. They struck a claim, and Burthen's on
+the way to San Francisco for supplies. I'll tell you more when I
+have seen the lad and had a talk with him. The girl, I understand,
+was keeping house for them. A pretty, wistful little thing, they
+tell me, so I'd better keep an eye on Friend Benito."</p>
+<p>"Have you seen this Burthen? Is he here?" asked Stanley.</p>
+<p>"He was robbed--and killed last night at the Eldorado."</p>
+<p>"Sanctissima!" cried the girl, and crossed herself. "Then the
+little one's an orphan. And Benito--"</p>
+<p>"Her guardian, no doubt."</p>
+<p>Spear laughed. "He writes that a miner gave $24 in gold-dust for
+a box of seidlitz powders; another paid a dollar a drop for
+laudanum to cure his toothache. Flour is $400 per barrel, whisky
+$20 for a quart bottle, and sugar $4 a pound. 'It's a mad world, my
+masters,' as Shakespeare puts it, but a golden one. By and by this
+wealth will flow into your coffers down in San Francisco. Just now
+there is little disturbance, but it is bound to come. Several
+robberies and shootings have already taken place. There is one man
+whom I'd call an evil genius--a gambler, a handsome ruffian and a
+dead shot, so they tell me. It's rumored that he has a fancy for
+the little Burthen girl. Lord save her! Perhaps you know the
+rascal, for he hails, I understand, from San Francisco, one
+Alexander McTurpin."</p>
+<p>The three surveyed each other in a startled silence.</p>
+<p>"Benito and he are sure to quarrel," Inez whispered. "Madre
+Dolores! What can we do?"</p>
+<p>"Perhaps I'd better run up to the mines," said Adrian. "I've my
+own affair, you know, to settle with this fellow."</p>
+<p>"No, no, you must not," cried his wife in quick alarm.</p>
+<p>Spear smiled. "I wouldn't fret," he spoke assuringly. "Sam's
+gone up to see this fellow ... on a little business of his
+own."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2>
+<h3>THE VEILED WOMAN</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Several months went by with no news from Benito. James Burthen
+had been buried in the little graveyard on a hill overlooking the
+bay. And that ended the matter in so far as San Francisco was
+concerned.</p>
+<p>In the Alta California, a consolidation of two rival papers,
+appeared a brief notice chronicling the death of an unidentified
+miner, whose assassin, also nameless, had escaped. Ensenada Rose,
+described as an exotic female of dubious antecedents and still more
+suspicious motives, had left the Eldorado on the morning after the
+shooting "for parts unknown." She was believed to hold some "key to
+the tragic mystery which it was not her purpose to reveal."</p>
+<p>But killings were becoming too familiar in the growing town to
+excite much comment. San Francisco's population had quadrupled in
+the past half year and men were streaming in by the hundreds from
+all quarters of the globe. Flimsy bunk-houses were hastily erected,
+springing up as if by magic overnight. Men stood in long lines for
+a chance at these sorry accommodations and the often sorrier meals
+which a score of enterprising culinary novices served at prices
+from one dollar up. Lodging was $30 per month and at this price men
+slept on naked boards like sailors in a forecastle, one above the
+other. Often half a dozen pairs of blankets served a hundred
+sleepers. For as soon as a guest of these palatial hostelries began
+to snore the enterprising landlord stripped his body of its
+covering and served it to a later arrival.</p>
+<p>"If the town grows much faster it will be a tragedy," remarked
+Adrian to James Lick that afternoon. Lick had bought a city lot at
+Montgomery and Jackson streets and had already sold a portion of it
+for $30,000. He was a believer in San Francisco's future, and at
+San Jose his flour mill, once contemptuously called "Lick's folly,"
+was grinding grain which at present prices brought almost its
+weight in gold.</p>
+<p>"Things always right themselves, my boy," he said. "Don't worry.
+Keep pegging away at your sand lots. Some day you'll be a
+millionaire."</p>
+<p>"But half of these people are homeless. And every day they come
+faster. In our neighborhood are a dozen ramshackle tents where
+these poor devils keep 'bachelors' hall' with little more than a
+skillet and a coffee pot. They call it 'ranching.'" He laughed.
+"What would our old land barons have thought of a rancho four by
+six feet, which the first of our trade winds will blow into the
+bay?"</p>
+<p>"The Lord," said Lick, devoutly, "tempers the wind to the shorn
+lamb. And also to the homeless squatter on our sandy shores."</p>
+<p>"I hope you're right," responded Stanley. "It does me good to
+hear someone speak of God in this godless place. It is full of
+thieves and cut-throats; they've a settlement at the base of the
+hill overlooking Clark's Point. No man's life is safe, they tell
+me, over there."</p>
+<p>Lick frowned. "They call it Sydney Town because so many
+Australian convicts have settled in it. Some day we'll form a
+citizens' committee and run them off."</p>
+<p>"Which reminds me," Lick retorted, "that McTurpin came to town
+this morning. With a veiled woman ... or girl. She looks little
+more than a child."</p>
+<p>Adrian surveyed the other, startled. "Child?" His mind was full
+of vague suspicions.</p>
+<p>"Well, she didn't weigh more than a hundred. Yes, they
+came--both on one horse, and the fellow's companion none too well
+pleased, I should say. Frightened, perhaps, though why she should
+be is a puzzle." Lick shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+<p>"Has he taken the girl to his--the ranch?" asked Adrian.</p>
+<p>"Don't know. I reckon not," Lick answered. "They ate at the City
+Hotel. He'd a bag full of dust, so he'll gamble and guzzle till
+morning most likely." He regarded his friend keenly, a trifle
+uneasily. "Come, Adrian ... I'll walk past your door with you."</p>
+<p>"I'm not going home just yet, thanks," Stanley's tone was
+nervously evasive.</p>
+<p>"Well, good-night, then," said the other with reluctance. He
+turned south on Kearny street toward his home. Stanley, looking
+after him, stood for a moment as if undetermined. Then he took his
+way across the Plaza toward the City Hotel.</p>
+<p>In the bar, a long and low-ceiling room, talk buzzed and smoke
+from many pipes made a bluish, acrid fog through which, Adrian,
+standing in the doorway, saw, imperfectly, a long line of men at
+the bar. Others sat at tables playing poker and drinking
+incessantly, men in red-flannel shirts, blue denim trousers tucked
+into high, wrinkled boots. They wore wide-brimmed hats, and cursed
+or spat with a fervor and vehemence that indicated enjoyment.
+Adrian presently made out the stocky form of McTurpin, glass
+upraised. Before him on the bar were a fat buckskin bag and a
+bottle. He was boasting of his luck at the mines.</p>
+<p>A companion "hefted" the treasure admiringly. "Did you make it
+gamblin', Alec?" he inquired.</p>
+<p>"No, by Harry!" said the other, tartly. "I'm no gambler any
+more. I'm a respectable gentleman with a mine and a ranch," he
+emptied his glass and, smacking his lips, continued, "and a
+beautiful young girl that loves me ... loves me. Understand?" His
+hand came down upon the other's shoulder with a sounding whack.</p>
+<p>"Where is she?" asked the other, coaxingly. "You're a cunning
+hombre, Alec. Leave us have a look at her, I say."</p>
+<p>"Bye and bye," McTurpin spoke more cautiously. "Bye and bye ...
+then you can be a witness to the marriage, Dave." He drew the
+second man aside across the room, so near to Adrian that the latter
+stepped back to avoid discovery.</p>
+<p>"She's a respectable lass," he heard McTurpin whisper. "Yes,
+it's marry or nothing with her ... and I'm willing enough, the Lord
+knows. Can ye find me a preacher, old fellow?"</p>
+<p>He could not make out the other's reply. Their voices died down
+to an imperceptible whisper as they moved farther away. Stanley
+thought they argued over something. Then the man called Dave passed
+him and went swiftly up the hill.</p>
+<p>Vaguely troubled, Stanley returned to the veranda. It was
+unoccupied for chilly evening breezes had driven the loungers
+indoors. Absently he paced the creaking boards and, having reached
+a corner of the building, continued his promenade along what seemed
+to be the rear of the building. Here a line of doors opened on the
+veranda like the upper staterooms of a ship.</p>
+<p>Why should he trouble his mind about McTurpin and a paramour?
+thought Adrian. Yet his thought was curiously disturbed. Something
+Spear had read from a letter vexed him dimly like a memory
+imperfectly recalled. What was there about McTurpin and a child?
+Whose child? And what had it to do with the veiled woman who had
+ridden with the gambler from the mines. Impishly the facts eluded
+him. Inez would know. But Inez must not be bothered just now--at
+this time.</p>
+<p>He paused and listened. Was that a woman sobbing? Of course not.
+Only his nerves, his silly sentiment. He would go home and forget
+the whole thing.</p>
+<p>There it was again. This time he could not be mistaken.
+Noiselessly he made his way toward the sound. It stopped. But
+presently it came again. From where? Ah, yes, the window with a
+broken pane.</p>
+<p>Soft, heartbroken, smothered wailing. Spasms of it. Then an
+interlude of silence. Adrian's heart beat rapidly. He tip-toed to
+the window, tried the door beside it. Locked. After a moment's
+hesitation he spoke, softly: "Is someone in trouble?"</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2>
+<h3>A CALL IN THE NIGHT</h3>
+<br>
+<p>There was no answer. For a second time Adrian's mind fought a
+belief that sense had tricked him. Now and then a shout from the
+bar-room reached him as he waited, listening. The wind whistled
+eerily through the scant-leaved scrub-oaks on the slopes above.</p>
+<p>But from the room at the window of which he listened there came
+no sound.</p>
+<p>Adrian felt like one hoaxed, made ridiculous by his own
+sentimentality. He strode on. But when he reached the farther
+corner some involuntary impulse turned him back. And again the
+sound of muffled sobbing came to him from the open window--fainter
+now, as though an effort had been made to stifle it.</p>
+<p>Once more he spoke: "I say, what's the trouble in there? Can I
+help?"</p>
+<p>Almost instantly a face appeared against the pane--a
+tear-stained face, terrified and shrinking.</p>
+<p>"Oh!" said a voice unsteady with weeping. "Oh! sir, if there is
+a heart in your breast you will help me to escape--to find my
+father."</p>
+<p>Her tone, despite agitation, was that of extreme youth. She was
+not of the class that frequent gambling halls. Both her dress and
+her manner proclaimed that. Adrian was perplexed. "Are you--" he
+hesitated, fearing to impart offense, "are you the girl who came
+with McTurpin?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, yes," she spoke hurriedly. "He told me my father was ill.
+He promised to take me to him. Instead, he locked me in this room.
+He threatened--oh! he is a monster! Will you help me? Do you know
+my father, sir?"</p>
+<p>"What is his name?" asked Stanley.</p>
+<p>"Burthen, sir, James Burthen," she replied, and fell once more
+to sobbing helplessly. "Oh, if I were only out of here."</p>
+<p>Stanley pressed his weight against the door. He was thinking
+rapidly. So this was the daughter of Benito's partner--the murdered
+miner of the Eldorado tragedy. He recalled the letter from Colton;
+the hint of McTurpin's infatuation and its menace. Things became
+clear to him suddenly. The door gave as he pressed his knee against
+it. Presently the flimsy lock capitulated and he walked into the
+room. The girl shrank back against the farther wall at his
+approach.</p>
+<p>"Oh, come," he said, a trifle testily, "I'm not going to hurt
+you. Get on your hat. I'll see you're taken care of. I'll place you
+in charge of my wife."</p>
+<p>"And my father," she begged. "You'll take me to him?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, yes, your father," he agreed in haste. "But first you'll
+come home with me."</p>
+<p>She snatched up a hat and shawl from the commode, and, with
+hurried movements rearranged her hair; then she followed him
+submissively into the gathering dusk, shrinking close as if to
+efface herself whenever they passed anyone. The streets were full
+of men now, mostly bound from hotels, lodging houses and tents to
+the Eldorado and kindred resorts. Many of them ogled her curiously,
+for a female figure was a rarity in nocturnal San Francisco.</p>
+<p>They passed dimly lighted tents in which dark figures bulked
+grotesquely against canvas walls. In one a man seemed to be dancing
+with a large animal which Stanley told her was a grizzly bear.</p>
+<p>"They have many queer pets," he said. "One of my neighbors keeps
+a pet coon, and in another tent there are a bay horse, two dogs,
+two sheep and a pair of goats. They sleep with their master like a
+happy family."</p>
+<p>"It is all so strange," said the girl, faintly. "In the East my
+father was a lawyer; we had a good house and a carriage; everything
+was so different from--this. But after my mother died, he grew
+restless. He sold everything and came to this rough, wild country.
+None of his old friends would know him now, with his beard, his
+boots and the horrible red flannel shirt."</p>
+<p>Adrian made no reply. He was thinking of the tragic news which
+must ere long be told to Burthen's daughter. For a time they strode
+along in silence--until Stanley paused before an open door. Against
+the inner light which streamed through it into the darkness of the
+street a woman's figure was outlined.</p>
+<p>"Well, here we are, at last," said Adrian. "And my wife's in the
+doorway waiting to scold me for being so late."</p>
+<p>Inez ran to meet him. "I have been anxious," she declared. She
+noted her husband's companion, and stepped back, startled. "Adrian,
+who is this?"</p>
+<p>"A daughter of the mur----" Adrian began. He broke the telltale
+word in two: "Of James Burthen--Benito's partner."</p>
+<p>"Ah, then you know my brother," Inez hailed her eagerly. She
+took the girl's hands in her own and pressed them. "You must tell
+us all about him--quickly. We have waited long for news."</p>
+<p>"You are--Mr. Windham's sister?" cried the girl almost
+incredulously. Then, with a swift abandonment to emotion she threw
+her arms about the elder woman's neck and sobbed.</p>
+<p>Stanley followed them into the house. He saw Inez supporting her
+companion, soothing her in those mysterious ways which only women
+know. His mind was stirred with grave perplexities.</p>
+<p>A peremptory knock aroused him from his cogitations. Could it be
+the gambler so soon? He thought there were voices. Several men, no
+doubt.</p>
+<p>Inez called out in a whisper, "Who is there?"</p>
+<p>"Go back," her husband ordered. "It's all right, dear. They're
+friends of mine."</p>
+<p>Inez came out quickly and stood beside him, looking up into his
+face. "You're sure? There's no--no danger?"</p>
+<p>Again the rat-tat-tat upon the panel, more peremptory than
+before. Stanley forced a laugh. "Danger! Why, of course not. Just a
+business talk. But go back and look after the girl. I don't want
+her coming out here while I've visitors." He patted her hand. His
+arm about her shoulder he ushered her across the threshold of the
+inner chamber and closed the door. Then he extinguished the lamp.
+Hand on pistol he felt his way toward the outer portal and, with a
+sudden movement flung it wide. Three men stood on the threshold.
+They seemed puzzled by the darkness. Out of it the host's voice
+spoke: "Who are you? What do you wish?"</p>
+<p>William Henry Brown was first to answer him. "We want you,
+Adrian, at the hotel. Can you come now--quickly?"</p>
+<p>"What for?" he asked suspiciously. "Who sent you here?"</p>
+<p>"Nobody," came the cheery voice of Dr. Jones. "There's a friend
+of yours at Brown's who needs you."</p>
+<p>"You mean--McTurpin?</p>
+<p>"Damn McTurpin!" spoke the third voice. It was Nathan Spear's.
+"Light your lamp. Nobody's going to shoot you, Stanley.... It's
+young Benito from the mines and down with fever. He's calling for
+you ... and for a girl named Alice.... If you can pacify him--that
+will help a lot. He's pretty low."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2>
+<h3>OUTFACING THE ENEMY</h3>
+<br>
+<p>"Wait," said Adrian, hurriedly. He relighted the lamp and, going
+to the inner door, called softly. There was an agitated rustle;
+then the door swung back and Stanley saw the figure of his wife,
+beside whom stood the light-haired girl.</p>
+<p>"What is it, Adrian?"</p>
+<p>"There's someone sick at Brown's Hotel," said Adrian, "a friend
+of mine. I'm going over there." He made a sign imposing silence on
+the men.</p>
+<p>Inez came close. "You're certain it's no trick," she whispered,
+"it's not McTurpin's scheme to--"</p>
+<p>"No, no," he assured her hastily. "I'm sure of that." He seized
+his hat and coat. "Put down the window shades and answer no one's
+knock till I return." He kissed her and without more ado joined the
+men outside. He heard the door shut and lock click into place.</p>
+<p>For a time the quartette strode along in silence; then Brown
+spoke, as if the thought had been long on his lips, "Wasn't
+that--the girl McTurpin brought to town?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," said Adrian tersely, "it was she."</p>
+<p>Brown made no immediate response; he seemed to be digesting
+Adrian's remark. Finally he burst out, "If it's any of my business,
+what's she doing--there?"</p>
+<p>"She asked for help," retorted Stanley. He related the incident
+of the veranda. Spear laughed meaningly. "That's the second one
+you've taken from McTurpin; he'll be loving you a heap, old
+man."</p>
+<p>"He doesn't know it yet," Brown said. "But keep out of his way
+tomorrow."</p>
+<p>Stanley's teeth met with a little click. "When I've seen Benito,
+Alec McTurpin and I will have a showdown. But tell me of the boy.
+What brought him here?"</p>
+<p>"The missing girl, of course," said Dr. James. "He's daft about
+her. Alice Burthen ... that's her name, isn't it?"</p>
+<p>Stanley was about to make some rejoinder when they passed two
+men, one of whom looked at them curiously. He was McTurpin's
+companion of the bar-room episode. "Who's that?" asked Spear as
+Brown saluted the pair.</p>
+<p>"That's Reverend Wheeler, the new Baptist parson."</p>
+<p>"Yes, yes, I know. But the other one?"</p>
+<p>"Ned Gasket ... he's a friend of Dandy Carter's at the
+Eldorado."</p>
+<p>"And a Sydney Duck, I guess," the doctor added.</p>
+<p>"Do your own guessing, friend," said Brown, impatiently.</p>
+<p>Spear sighed. "We'll have to do more than guess about that
+stripe of citizen if we want law and order. It will take a rope I
+fear," he finished grimly.</p>
+<p>Brown led them round the back to a room not far from the one
+which had held Alice Burthen.</p>
+<p>"It's quieter here," he explained. "They get noisy sometimes
+along about midnight." He opened the door and struck a sulphur
+match by whose weird flicker they made out a bed with a tossing
+figure upon it. Adrian crossed over and took the nervous clutching
+hands within his own firm clasp.</p>
+<p>"Benito," he said. "Don't you know me? It's Adrian!"</p>
+<p>Brown with a lighted lamp came nearer, so that Stanley saw the
+sufferer's eyes. They were incognizant of realities. The murmuring
+voice droned on, fretfully, "I've looked for her everywhere. She's
+gone! gone!"</p>
+<p>Suddenly he cried out: "Alice! Alice!" half rising. But he
+tumbled back upon the pillow with a swift collapse of weakness and
+his words waned into mumbled incoherence.</p>
+<p>"Benito," Adrian addressed him earnestly, "Alice is with me.
+With me and Inez. She's safe. I'll bring her to you in the morning.
+Do you understand?"</p>
+<p>"With you--with Inez?" the sick man repeated. "Then tell her to
+come. I want her. Tell Alice to come--"</p>
+<p>"Tomorrow," Dr. Jones said, soothingly, "when you've had a
+chance to rest."</p>
+<p>"No, tonight," the fevered eyes stared up at them imploringly.
+Jones drew Adrian aside. "Pretend you'll do it or hell wear himself
+out. Then go. I'll give him something that will make him sleep." He
+emptied a powder in a tumbler of water and held it out to the sick
+man. "Drink this," he ordered, "it'll give you strength to see Miss
+Burthen."</p>
+<p>Benito's lips obediently quaffed the drink. His head lay quieter
+upon the pillow. Slowly, as they watched, the eyelids closed.</p>
+<p>"And now," said Adrian when he had assured himself that Benito
+slept, "I'm going for McTurpin."</p>
+<p>"Don't be a confounded fool," Dr. Jones said quickly.</p>
+<p>But Stanley paid no heed. He went directly into the saloon and
+looked about him. At a table, back toward him, sat a stocky figure,
+playing cards and reaching for the rum container at his side.
+Adrian stood a moment, musing; then his right hand slid down to his
+hip; a forward stride and the left hand fell on the player's
+shoulder.</p>
+<p>"We meet once more, McTurpin."</p>
+<p>The gambler rose so suddenly that the stool on which he sat
+rolled over. His face was red with wine and rage. His fingers moved
+toward an inner pocket.</p>
+<p>"Don't," said Adrian meaningly. The hand fell back.</p>
+<p>"What do you want?" the gambler growled.</p>
+<p>"A quiet talk, my friend. Come with me."</p>
+<p>"And, suppose I refuse?" the other sneered.</p>
+<p>"Oh, if you're afraid--" began Adrian.</p>
+<p>McTurpin threw his cards upon the table. Between him and a man
+across the board flashed a swift, unspoken message. "I'm at your
+service, Mr.--ah--Stanley."</p>
+<p>He led the way out, and Adrian following, gave a quick glance
+backward, noting that the man across the table had arisen. What he
+did not see was that Spear hovered in the offing, following them
+with watchful eyes.</p>
+<p>Toward the north they strolled, past a huddle of tents, for the
+most part unlighted. From some came snores and through many a
+windblown flap, the searching moonlight revealed sleeping figures.
+On a waste of sand-dunes McTurpin paused.</p>
+<p>"Now tell me what ye want," he snarled, "and be damned quick
+about it. I've small time to waste with meddlers."</p>
+<p>"On this occasion," Stanley said, "you'll take the time to note
+the following facts, Mr. McTurpin, Mr. Pillsworth--or whatever your
+true name may be--I've had a talk with Dandy Carter. He recognized
+you and Gasket when Burthen was killed, in spite of your beard. So
+did Rosa, of course, though she skipped the next morning. The
+Burthen girl is at my house." He paused an instant, thinking that
+he heard a movement in a bush nearby. "Well, that's all," he
+finished, "except this: If I find you here tomorrow, Alec McTurpin,
+murderer, card-sharp and abductor, I'll shoot you down like a
+dog."</p>
+<p>And then, with a splendid piece of bravery, he turned his back
+on the gambler, walking away with never a backward glance. He did
+not go directly home, but walked for an indeterminate interval till
+his spirit was more calm.</p>
+<p>The house was dark. Inez had obeyed him by leaving no trace of
+light. Doubtless by now they had retired. Suddenly he started,
+peered more closely at the door he was about to enter.</p>
+<p>It was slightly ajar. On the threshold, as he threw it open,
+Adrian found a lace-edged handkerchief. His wife's.</p>
+<p>Filled with quick foreboding, he called her name. His voice
+sounded hollow, strange, as if an empty house. Tremblingly he
+struck a light and searched the inner room. The bed had not been
+slept in. There was no one to be seen.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2>
+<h3>SHOTS IN THE DARK</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Frantically Adrian ran out into the darkness, crying his wife's
+name. His thought went, with swift apprehension, over the events of
+recent hours. The villainous face of Ned Gasket passed before his
+memory mockingly; the meaning look McTurpin gave his henchman at
+the gaming table. Finally, with double force, that movement in the
+bushes as he told the gambler of his former captive's whereabouts.
+By what absurd imprudence had he laid himself thus open to the
+scoundrel's swift attack? What farther whimsy of an unkind Fate had
+prompted his long walk?</p>
+<p>Sudden fury flamed in Stanley's heart; it steadied him. The
+twitching fingers on the pistol in his pocket relaxed into a calm
+and settled tension. With long strides he made his way toward
+Brown's hotel.</p>
+<p>There was death in his eyes; men who caught their gleam beneath
+a lamplight, hastily avoided him. That Inez--at this time--should
+have been taken from her home, abducted, frightened or harassed,
+was the sin unpardonable. For it he meant to exact a capital
+punishment. The law, just then, meant to him nothing; only the
+primitive instinct of an outraged man controlled his mind.</p>
+<p>At the bar he paused. "Where's McTurpin, where's Gasket?" he
+demanded, harshly.</p>
+<p>The bartender observed him with suspicion and uneasiness. "Don't
+know. Haven't seen 'em since they started out with you," he
+answered.</p>
+<p>Stanley left the room without another word.</p>
+<p>He struck across the Plaza, entering the Eldorado gambling
+house. There he ordered a drink, gulped it, made, more quietly, a
+survey of the room. He scanned the players carefully. Spear sat at
+one of the tables, toying with a pile of chips and stroking his
+chin reflectively as he surveyed three cards.</p>
+<p>"Give me two. Hello, there, Adrian. Good Lord! what's up?"</p>
+<p>"Have you seen McTurpin or his friend, Ned Gasket?" He tried to
+speak quietly.</p>
+<p>A miner at another table leaned forward. "Try the stalls, pard,"
+he whispered, while his left eyelid descended meaningly.</p>
+<p>"Wait," cried Spear and laid his cards down hastily. But Adrian
+was already on his way. At the rear were half a dozen small
+compartments where visitors might drink in semi-privacy with women
+who frequented the place.</p>
+<p>Adrian made the round of them, flinging aside each curtain as he
+went. Some greeted him with curses for intruding; some with
+invitations. But he did not find the men he sought, until the last
+curtain was thrown back. There sat Gasket and McTurpin opposite
+Ensenada Rose. She looked up impudently as Adrian entered. Into the
+gambler's visage sprang a quick surprise and fear. Instantly he
+blew out the lamp.</p>
+<p>A pistol spoke savagely almost in Adrian's face. He staggered,
+clasping one hand to his head. Something warm ran down his cheek
+and the side of his neck. He felt giddy, stunned. But a dominant
+impulse jerked his own revolver into position and he shot twice--as
+rapidly as he could operate the weapon. The narrow space was
+chokingly filled with acrid vapor. Somewhere a woman screamed; then
+came a rush of feet.</p>
+<p>It seemed to Adrian he had stood for hours in a kind of stupor
+when a light was brought. Gasket lay, his head bowed over on the
+table and an arm flung forward. He was dead. On the floor was a
+lace mantilla.</p>
+<p>Spear reached Adrian's side ahead of the others. "I heard him
+shoot first," he said, so that all might hear him. "Are you
+hit?"</p>
+<p>Adrian's hand went once more to his cheek. "Just a furrow," he
+said and smiled a trifle dazedly. "He fired straight into my
+face."</p>
+<p>"By Harry! He must have. Your cheek's powder-marked," cried
+Brannan, running up and holding the lamp for a better view. "See
+that, gentlemen? They tried to murder Mr. Stanley. This is
+self-defense. Who fired at you?"</p>
+<p>"This fellow!" Adrian indicated the sprawled figure. "Must have
+been. I shot at the flash from his gun; then I aimed at McTurpin. I
+missed him, probably."</p>
+<p>"Not so sure of that," said Brown, who had come running from his
+hostelry across the square. "Look, here's blood on the floor. A
+trail--let's follow it. Either McTurpin or the woman was hit."</p>
+<p>"I tried to avoid her," Adrian said. "I--hope I didn't--"</p>
+<p>"Never mind. You were attacked. They're all of a parcel," cried
+a man who wore the badge of a constable. "We've had our eyes on the
+three of them a long time. This fellow," he indicated Gasket, "was
+one of the crowd suspected of the Warren murders. He's the one who
+killed old Burthen. Dandy Carter let it out tonight; he's half
+delirious. We'd have strung him up most probably, if you
+hadn't--"</p>
+<p>"Come," urged Brannan, "let us follow this trail to the wounded.
+Perhaps he or she needs assistance." He held the lamp low, tracing
+the dark spots across an intervening space to the rear entrance;
+thence to a hitching rack where several horses still were tethered.
+"They mounted here," the constable decided. "One horse probably. No
+telling which it was that got the bullet."</p>
+<p>Adrian was conscious, suddenly, that his hand still held the
+pistol. He flung it from him with a gesture of repulsion.</p>
+<p>"My wife!" he said faintly, "Inez!"</p>
+<p>"What d'ye mean?" asked Spear.</p>
+<p>"Talk up, man. What's wrong?"</p>
+<p>"She's gone--abducted," Stanley answered. "Who'll lend me a
+horse. I must find McTurpin. He knows--"</p>
+<p>Unexpectedly Spear complicated matters. "You're mistaken,
+Stanley. I followed when you and he took your walk together. I
+suspected treachery--when Gasket sneaked along behind. I had
+McTurpin covered when you turned your back on him. He came here
+after that. Both of them have been here all the evening."</p>
+<p>Stanley put his hand to his head with a bewildered gesture.</p>
+<p>"Good God! Then where--? What has become of them?"</p>
+<p>"Maybe they got wind of Benito's presence. Maybe they're with
+him. Let's see."</p>
+<p>They hurried back to the City Hotel.</p>
+<p>"The room's dark," Spear lighted a taper and they softly opened
+the door. Benito slept; beside him drowsed a red-shirted miner
+slumped upon a chair. Adrian shook him, whispering, "Where's Doctor
+Jones?"</p>
+<p>"Don't know," muttered the watcher, sleepily. "This yere is his
+busy night I reckon. Asked me to look after this galoot. Feed him
+four fingers of that pizen if he woke."</p>
+<p>His head drooped forward and a buzzing sound came from his open
+mouth. Once more Adrian shook him.</p>
+<p>"Didn't he say anything about his destination?"</p>
+<p>"His which, pard?"</p>
+<p>"Where he was bound," the young man said half angrily.</p>
+<p>This time the other sat up straighter. For the first time he
+really awoke and took intelligent cognizance of the situation.</p>
+<p>"Now I come to think on it, he's bound for the hill over yonder.
+Woman named Briones come for him at a double quick. Good lookin'
+Spanish wench. She took him by the arm commandin' like. 'You come
+along,' she says and picks up his medicine chest. 'Don't stop for
+yer hat.' And he didn't." He winked heavily, chuckling at the
+reminiscence.</p>
+<p>"Then it isn't Juana Briones that's ill. Perhaps it's her
+husband."</p>
+<p>"Has she got a husband?" asked the miner, disappointedly. "No, I
+reckon 'twant him. 'Twas a woman name o' Stanley. I remember
+now--Goin' to have a bebby."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2>
+<h3>THE NEW ARRIVAL</h3>
+<br>
+<p>"Take my horse," said Brannan, hurriedly. "I'll stay here with
+Benito." He bundled the excited Stanley and Nathan Spear out of the
+room, where Benito still slept under the spell of the doctor's
+opiate. "You, too," he told the miner, "you've had too much red
+liquor to play the nurse." He closed the door after them.</p>
+<p>The young contractor spoke first. "By the eternal, I never
+thought of that! I'm glad she had a woman with her."</p>
+<p>He spurred his horse toward Telegraph, Hill, as it had begun to
+be known, since signals were flashed from its crest, announcing the
+arrival of vessels. Down its farther slope was the little rancho of
+Dona Briones, where Inez in her extremity had sought the good
+friend of her childhood.</p>
+<p>Adrian's thought leaped forward into coming years. Inez and he
+together, always together as the years passed. And between them a
+son--intuitively he felt that it would be a son--a successor,
+taking up their burdens as they laid them down; bearing their name,
+their ideals, purposes along, down the pageant of time.</p>
+<p>He paid little heed as they passed through a huddle of huts,
+tents and lean-tos on the southern ascent. Though the hour was
+late, many windows were light and sounds of revelry came dimly, as
+though muffled, from curtain-hid interiors. There was something
+furtive and ill-omened about this neighborhood which one sensed
+rather than perceived. Spear rode close and touched Adrian's
+arm.</p>
+<p>"Sydney town," he whispered, meaningly. "The hang-out of our
+convict citizens from Australia, those eastern toughs and
+plug-uglies of the Seventh regiment who came here to feather their
+nests. Do you know what they've done? Formed a society called The
+Hounds. Appropriate, isn't it? Your friend McTurpin's one of them.
+Thanks to you, they've lost a valued member."</p>
+<p>"Hounds?" said Adrian. His thought still forged ahead. "Oh, yes,
+I've heard about them. They are going to drive out the
+foreigners."</p>
+<p>"Loot them, more likely," Spear returned, disgustedly; "then us,
+if we don't look out. Mark my word, they'll give us trouble.
+Alcalde Leavenworth's too careless by half."</p>
+<p>Stanley, paying scant attention, suddenly leaned forward in his
+saddle. At one of the windows a curtain was drawn back; a woman's
+face appeared for a moment silhouetted against inner light; then as
+swiftly withdrew.</p>
+<p>"Who was that?" asked Adrian, involuntarily reining in his
+mount. "Not--"</p>
+<p>"Rosa Terranza," said Spear excitedly.</p>
+<p>They listened. From within the tent-house came a sound of hasty
+movements, whispering. The light winked out. A bolt was shot; then
+silence.</p>
+<p>"I'll bet, by Jupiter, McTurpin's there," cried Adrian.</p>
+<p>"And that he's hurt," Spear added. "What shall we do?"</p>
+<p>"Let them be," decided Stanley, clucking to his horse. "My
+duty's ahead." He took the steep pitch of the hillside almost at a
+gallop and soon they were descending again into that little
+settlement of waterside and slope called North Beach. Juana
+Briones' place had been its pioneer habitation. Her hospitable gate
+stood always invitingly open. Through the branches of a cypress
+lights could be seen. The front door stood ajar and about it were
+whispering women. Adrian's heart leaped. Was something amiss? He
+dismounted impetuously, throwing the reins to an Indian who had
+come out evidently to do them service. Spear followed as he rushed
+through the door. There stood Dona Briones, finger on lip,
+demanding silence. Her face was grave.</p>
+<p>"How--how is she? How is Inez?" Adrian stammered.</p>
+<p>"The doctor's with her. Everything will be all right, I think.
+But make no noise. Go in that room and sit down."</p>
+<p>Adrian threw up his hands. "My God, woman! How can I sit still
+when--when--?"</p>
+<p>"Walk up and down, then," said Juana, "but take off your
+shoes."</p>
+<p>Which Adrian finally did. It seemed to him that he had paced the
+tiny chamber a thousand times. He heard movements, voices in the
+next room; now and then his wife's moan and the elder woman's
+soothing accents. Then a silence which seemed century long, a
+silence fraught with unimaginable terror. It was broken by a new
+sound, high pitched, feeble, but distinct; the cry of a child.
+Helplessly Adrian subsided into a chair beside Nathan Spear. "Do
+you hear that?" he asked, mopping his forehead.</p>
+<p>"Yes, I heard it," said the other non-committally.</p>
+<p>"I can't stand this any longer," Adrian exclaimed. "I'm going in
+there. I--I've got to know--"</p>
+<p>He rose, determinedly, shaking off Spear's detaining arm. In the
+doorway stood Dr. Jones. Again came the tiny cry. "It's a boy,"
+said the medico, and held out his hand.</p>
+<p>But Adrian caught him by the shoulders. "My wife?" he asked.
+"How is she? Is there any--"</p>
+<p>"Danger? No, it's over," said the doctor. "Sit down and calm
+yourself."</p>
+<p>Adrian relaxed a trifle. Finally his set face softened; he
+laughed.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>It was the evening of July 14, 1849. Stanley stood over the
+cradle of his son, looking worshipfully down at the tiny sleeping
+face. Inez Stanley, busied with the varied tasks of motherhood,
+came and stood for a moment beside him. She voiced that platitude of
+wives and mothers in their pride: "He looks just like you,
+Adrian."</p>
+<p>Stanley put his hands upon her shoulders. "Got your mouth, your
+big eyes," he said, and kissed her.</p>
+<p>They were wont to quarrel tenderly over this. But tonight Inez
+looked seriously up at her husband. Suddenly she hid her face upon
+his shoulder.</p>
+<p>"If only--if only--" she whispered, "he wouldn't grow up. And we
+wouldn't grow old."</p>
+<p>Stanley's fingers on her hair stroked gently. "Life is life, my
+dear," he said at last. "Let us not question the inexorable too
+deeply. Yesterday is gone, you know. Tomorrow never comes.... And
+here we are together in the best town in the world. With love, good
+prospects ... our little Francisco--"</p>
+<p>"He will live to see a great city," said Inez, comforted. "He
+will help to make it." Her eyes were prophetic. The child stirred
+and hastily they withdrew, lowering the light so that his slumber
+might be undisturbed. A light tap sounded at the door and Adrian
+answered.</p>
+<p>Spear and Brannan with Benito stood upon the threshold. The
+latter entered, kissed his sister and was shown the sleeping child.
+"How is Alice?" Inez asked.</p>
+<p>"Well. And the best little wife in the world," Benito answered.
+His eyes glowed happily. "The tiny Francisco is growing like a
+weed. Only ten months old--"</p>
+<p>"Nine months, two weeks and three days," said his mother,
+glibly. "Won't you all come in and see the baby?" she invited.</p>
+<p>"No," Spear answered. "We must steal your husband for a' little
+while. There's business at the City Hall...."</p>
+<p>"Adrian's become a prominent citizen, you know," he added at her
+look of pouting protest.</p>
+<p>She brought her husband's hat. "Don't be long," she urged, and
+smiled a good-bye from the threshold. When he heard the door shut,
+Adrian turned on Brannan. "What's up?"</p>
+<p>"Plenty," said the other meaningly. "The Hounds have broken out.
+They looted Little Chili about dark tonight and one of them was
+shot. They threaten to burn the foreign quarter. They're arming.
+There's trouble afoot."</p>
+<p>"And what do you want of me?" Stanley questioned.</p>
+<p>"Damn it! Wake up, man!" cried Spear. "A citizens' committee.
+We're going to enforce the law--if it takes a rope."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2>
+<h3>THE CHAOS OF '49</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Inez and Alice were returning from church on Sunday, July 15
+when they encountered a strange, unsabbatical procession; a company
+of grim and tight-lipped citizens marching, rifles over shoulder
+toward the Bay. At their head was William Spofford. Midway of the
+parade were a dozen rough-appearing fellows, manacled and guarded.
+Among these Inez recognized Sam Roberts, gaunt and bearded leader
+of the hoodlum band known as The Hounds or Regulars. From Little
+Chili, further to the north and west, rose clouds of smoke; now and
+then a leaping tongue of flame.</p>
+<p>Presently Benito, musket at shoulder, came marching by and Inez
+plucked at his arm.</p>
+<p>"Can't stop now," he told her hurriedly. "We're taking these
+rogues to the sloop Warren. They're to be tried for arson and
+assault in the foreign quarter."</p>
+<p>"By the Eternal!" shouted a bystander enthusiastically. "We've
+got Law in San Francisco at last.... Hurrah for Bill Spofford and
+the Citizens' Committee."</p>
+<p>"There's Adrian," cried Inez as the rearguard of the pageant
+passed. "Isn't it fine? Alice, aren't you proud?"</p>
+<p>But Alice was a practical little body. "They'll be hungry when
+they come home," she averred. "Let us hurry back and get their
+dinner ready."</p>
+<br>
+<a name="page122.jpg"></a>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/page122.jpg" width="85%" alt=
+""><br>
+<b>Passersby who laughed at the inscription witnessed
+simultaneously the rescue of an almost-submerged donkey by means of
+an improvised derrick.</b></p>
+<br>
+<p>The affair of The Hounds was already past history when the
+gold-seekers, hunted from the heights by early snows, returned to
+San Francisco in great numbers. Sara Roberts and his evil band had
+been deported. Better government obtained but there were many other
+civic problems still unsolved. San Francisco, now a hectic, riotous
+metropolis of 25,000 inhabitants, was like a muddy Venice, for
+heavy rains had made its unpaved streets canals of oozy mud. At
+Clay and Kearny streets, in the heart of the business district,
+some wag had placed a placard reading:</p>
+<blockquote>THIS STREET IS IMPASSABLE<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;NOT EVEN JACKASSABLE</blockquote>
+<p>In which there was both truth and poetry. Passersby who laughed
+at the inscription witnessed simultaneously the rescue of an
+almost-submerged donkey by means of an improvised derrick.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Benito was showing his friend David Broderick, a recent arrival
+from New York, some of San Francisco's sights. "Everything is being
+used to bridge the crossings," said the former laughingly ...
+"stuff that came from those deserted ships out in the bay. Their
+masts are like a forest--hundreds of them."</p>
+<p>"You mean their crew deserted during the gold rush?" Broderick
+inquired.</p>
+<p>"Yes, even the skippers and officers in many cases.... See, here
+is a cargo of sieves with which some poor misguided trader
+overwhelmed the market. They make a fair crossing, planted in the
+mud. And there are stepping stones of tobacco boxes--never been
+opened, mind you--barrels of tainted pork and beef. On Montgomery
+street is a row of cook stoves which make a fine sidewalk, though,
+sometimes the mud covers them."</p>
+<p>"And what are those two brigs doing stranded in the mud?" asked
+Broderick.</p>
+<p>"Oh, those are the Euphemia and Apollo. They use the first one
+for a jail. That's Geary's scheme. He's full of business. And the
+second's a tavern.... Let's go up to the new post-office. Alice is
+always eager for a letter from her folks in Massachusetts."</p>
+<p>They made their way to the new wooden structure at Clay and Pike
+streets where several clerks were busily sorting the semi-weekly
+mail which had just arrived. Hundreds of people stood in long
+queues before each of the windows. "Get in line stranger," said a
+red-shirted man laughingly. "Only seventy-five ahead of us. I
+counted 'em.... Some have been in line since last night I'm told.
+They're up near the front and holding places for others ... getting
+$20 cash for their time."</p>
+<p>Broderick and Benito decided not to wait. They made another
+journey round the town, watching Chinese builders erecting long
+rows of habitations that had come in sections from Cathay.
+Everywhere was hasty, feverish construction--flimsy houses going up
+like mushrooms over night to meet the needs of San Francisco's
+swiftly augmenting populace.</p>
+<p>"It's like a house of cards," said Broderick, who had been a
+fireman in New York. "Lord help us if it ever starts to burn. Even
+our drinking water comes from Sausalito across the Bay."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2>
+<h3>RETRIEVING A BIRTHRIGHT</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Benito Windham stole from his dwelling, closing the door softly
+after him so Alice, his wife, might not wake. A faint rose dawn
+colored the Contra Costa ridge. From a few of the huts and larger
+buildings which sprinkled San Francisco's hills and hollows so
+haphazardly, curls of blue white wood smoke rose into the windless
+air. Here and there some belated roisterer staggered toward his
+habitation. But otherwise all was still, quicscent. San Francisco
+slept.</p>
+<p>It was the morning of December 24, 1849--the first Christmas eve
+following the gold rush. Windham, who had lain awake since
+midnight, pondered upon this and other things. Events had succeeded
+each other with such riotous activity of late that life seemed more
+like a dream than a reality. His turbulent months at the mines, his
+high preliminary hopes of fortune, their gradual waning to a slow
+despair; the advent of James Burthen and his daughter; then love,
+his partner's murder and the girl's abduction; his pursuit and
+illness. Alice's rescue and their marriage; his return to find the
+claim covered with snow; finally a clerical post in San
+Francisco.</p>
+<p>A sudden distaste for the feverish, riotous town assailed him--a
+longing for the peace and beauty of those broad paternal acres he
+had lost upon the gaming table wrenched his heart.</p>
+<p>He pictured Alice in the old rose patio, where his American
+father had wooed his Spanish mother.</p>
+<p>Involuntarily his steps turned eastward. At Sacramento and
+Leidesdorff streets he left solid ground to tread a four-foot board
+above the water, to the theoretical line of Sansome street; thence
+south upon a similar foothold to the solid ground of Bush street,
+where an immense sand-*hill with a hollow in its middle, like a
+crater, struck across the path. Some called this depression Thieves
+Hollow, for in it deserting sailors, ticket-of-leave men from
+Botany Bay prison colony and all manner of human riff-raff
+consorted for nefarious intrigue.</p>
+<p>Benito, mounting the slope, looked down at a welter of tents,
+shacks, deck houses and galleys of wrecked ships. He had expected
+their occupants to be asleep, for they were nighthawks who reversed
+man's usual order in the prosecution of nocturnal and ill-favored
+trades. He was astonished to note a general activity. At the
+portholes of dwellings retrieved from the wreck of the sea, unkempt
+bearded faces stared; smoke leaped from a dozen rickety, unstable
+chimneys, and in the open several groups of men and women plied
+frying pans and coffee pots over driftwood fires.</p>
+<p>Benito observed them with a covert interest. A black-browed man
+with a shaggy beard and something leonine about him, seemed the
+master of the chief of this godless band. He moved among them,
+giving orders, and with two companions finally ascended to the top.
+Benito, concealing himself behind a scrub oak, watched them,
+animatedly conversing, as they descended and picked their way
+inland toward the Square. So swift their movements and so low their
+tones he could not make out the tenor of their discourse. He caught
+the words, "like tow," but that was all. Musingly, he went on.</p>
+<p>Up the broad and muddy path to Market street, thence west again
+to Third, he made his way. Now south to Mission and once more west,
+a favored route for caballeros. Benito had never traveled it before
+afoot. But his horse had succumbed to the rigors of that frantic
+ride in pursuit of Alice and McTurpin several months ago. Mounts
+were a luxury now.</p>
+<p>He skirted the edge of a lagoon that stretched from Sixth to
+Eighth streets and on the ascent beyond observed a tiny box-like
+habitation, brightly painted, ringed with flowers and crowned with
+an imposing flagpole from which floated the Star-Spangled Banner.
+It was a note of gay melody struck athwart the discordant monotony
+of soiled tent houses, tumble-down huts and oblong, flat-roofed
+buildings stretching their disorderly array along the road. Coming
+closer he saw the name, "Pipesville," printed on the door, and knew
+that this must be the "summer home," as it was called, of San
+Francisco's beloved minstrel, Stephen Massett, otherwise "Jeems
+Pipes of Pipesville," singer, player, essayist and creator of those
+wondrous one-man concerts dear to all the countryside.</p>
+<p>"Jeems" himself appeared in the doorway to wave a greeting and
+Benito went on oddly cheered by the encounter. In front of the
+Mansion House, adjoining Mission Dolores, stood Bob Ridley, talking
+with his partner.</p>
+<p>"You look warm, son," he remarked paternally to Windham, "let me
+mix you up a milk punch and you'll feel more like yourself. Where's
+your boss and whither are ye bound?"</p>
+<p>"Died," Benito answered. "Going to my--to the ranch."</p>
+<p>"Thought so," Ridley said. "I hear there's no one on it. Why not
+steal a march on that tin-horn gambler and scallawag. Rally up some
+friends and take possession. That's nine points of the law, my boy,
+and a half-dozen straight-shooting Americans is nine hundred more,
+now that Geary's alcalde and that weak-kneed psalm-singing
+Leavenworth's resigned under fire."</p>
+<p>"You're sure--there's no one at the place?" Benito
+questioned.</p>
+<p>"Pretty sure. But what's it matter? Everybody knows it's yours
+by rights. Wait," he cried, excitedly. "I'll get horses. Stuart and
+I will go along. We'll pick up six or seven bully boys along the
+way. Is it a go?"</p>
+<p>"A go!" exclaimed Benito, his eyes ashine. "You--you're too
+good, Bob Ridley." He pressed the other's hand. "My wife," he
+mused, "among the roses in the patio! The old home, Dear God! Let
+it come true!"</p>
+<p>An hour later ten men galloped through the gate of the Windham
+rancho. No one offered them resistance. It had the look of a place
+long abandoned. Dead leaves and litter everywhere. All of the
+animals had been driven off--sold, no doubt. The hacienda had been
+ransacked of its valuables. It was almost bare of furniture. The
+rose court, neglected, unkempt, brought back a surge of memories. A
+chimney had fallen; broken adobe bricks lay scattered on the
+grass.</p>
+<p>But to Benito it spelled home. For him and for Alice. This
+should be his Christmas gift. Old Antonio, his former major-domo,
+lingered still in San Francisco. He would send him out this very
+day to set the place in order. Tomorrow he and Alice would
+ride--his brow clouded. He should have to borrow two horses. No
+matter. Tomorrow they would ride--</p>
+<p>A startled exclamation from Bob Ridley roused him from his
+rhapsody.</p>
+<p>"Benito, come here! Look! What the devil is that?"</p>
+<p>From their eminence the town of San Francisco was plainly
+visible; tall, thin shafts of smoke rising straight and black from
+many chimneys; the blue bay shimmering in the morning sunshine; the
+curious fretwork shadows of that great flotilla of deserted ships.
+But there was something more; something startlingly unnatural; a
+great pillar of black vapor--beneath it a livid red thing that
+leaped and grew.</p>
+<p>"Good God! The town's afire!" cried Benito.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2>
+<h3>FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Benito's first thought was of Alice. He had left her sleeping.
+Perhaps she had not yet awakened, for the morning was young. Adrian
+had gone to San Jose the previous afternoon. His wife, his sister
+and her child would be alone.</p>
+<p>Benito sprang upon his horse; the others followed. In less than
+half an hour they crossed Market street and were galloping down
+Kearny toward the Square. At California street they were halted by
+a crowd, pushing, shouting, elbowing this way and that without
+apparent or concerted purpose. Above the human babel sounded a
+vicious crackle of burning wood like volleys of shots from small
+rifles. Red and yellow flames shot high and straight into the air.
+Now and then a gust of wind sent the licking fire demon earthward,
+and before its hot breath people fled in panic.</p>
+<p>Benito flung his reins to a bystander. He was scarcely conscious
+of his movements; only that he was fighting for breath in a
+surging, suffocating press of equally excited human beings. From
+this he finally emerged, hatless, disheveled, into a small cleared
+space filled with flying sparks and stifling heat. Across it men
+rushed feverishly carrying pails of water. Dennison's Exchange on
+Kearny street, midway of the block facing Portsmouth Square, was a
+roaring furnace. Flame sprang like red, darting tongues from its
+windows and thrust impertinent fingers here and there through the
+sloping roof.</p>
+<p>Somewhere--no one seemed to know precisely--a woman screamed,
+"My baby! Save my baby!" The sound died to a moan, was stilled.
+Benito, passing a bucket along the line, stared, white faced, at
+his neighbor. "What was that?" he asked.</p>
+<p>"Quien sabe?" said the other, "hurry along with that pail. The
+roof's falling."</p>
+<p>It was true. The shingle-covered space above the burning
+building stirred gently, undulating like some wind-ruffled pond.
+The mansard windows seemed to bow to the watchers, then slowly sink
+forward. With a roar, the whole roof sprang into fire, buckled,
+collapsed; the veranda toppled. Smoke poured from the eight mansard
+windows of the Parker House, next door. South of the Parker House
+were single-storied buildings, one of wood, another of adobe; the
+first was a restaurant; over its roof several foreign-looking men
+spread rugs and upon them poured a red liquid.</p>
+<p>"It's wine," Bob Ridley said. "But they'll never save it.
+Booker's store is going, too. Looks like a clean sweep of the
+block."</p>
+<p>Broderick's commanding figure could be seen rushing hither and
+thither. "No use," Benito heard him say to one of his lieutenants.
+"Water won't stop it. Not enough.... Is there any powder
+hereabouts?"</p>
+<p>"Powder!" cried the other with a blanching face. "By the
+Eternal, yes! A store of it is just around the corner. Mustn't let
+the fire reach--"</p>
+<p>Broderick cut him short. "Go and get it. You and two others.
+Blow up or pull down that building," he indicated a sprawling
+ramshackle structure on the corner.</p>
+<p>"But it's mine," one of the fire-fighters wailed. "Cost me ten
+thousand dollars--"</p>
+<p>Fiercely Broderick turned upon him. "It'll cost the town ten
+millions if you don't hurry," he bellowed. "You can't save it,
+anyhow. Do you want the whole place to burn?"</p>
+<br>
+<a name="page130.jpg"></a>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/page130.jpg" width="85%" alt=
+""><br>
+<b>Broderick's commanding figure was seen rushing hither and
+thither.... "You and two others. Blow up or pull down that
+building," he indicated a sprawling, ramshackle structure.</b></p>
+<br>
+<p>"All right, all right, Cap. Don't shoot," the other countered
+with a sudden laugh. "Come on, boys, follow me." Benito watched him
+and the others presently returning with three kegs. They dived into
+the building indicated. Presently, with the noise of a hundred
+cannon, the corner building burst apart. Sticks and bits of plaster
+flew everywhere. The crowd receded, panic-stricken.</p>
+<p>"Good work!" cried the fire marshal.</p>
+<p>It seemed, indeed, as though the flames were daunted. The two
+small structures were blazing now. The Parker House, reeling
+drunkenly, collapsed.</p>
+<p>Unexpectedly a gust of wind sent fire from the ruins of
+Dennison's Exchange northward. It reached across the open space and
+flung a rain of sparks down Washington street toward Montgomery.
+Instantly there came an answering crackle, and exasperated
+fire-fighters rushed to meet the latest sortie of their enemy. Once
+more three men, keg laden, made their way through smoke and
+showering brands. Again the deafening report reverberated and the
+crowd fell back, alarmed.</p>
+<p>Someone grasped Benito's arm and shook it violently. He turned
+and looked into the feverishly questioning eyes of Adrian
+Stanley.</p>
+<p>"I've just returned," the other panted. "Tell me, is all
+well--with Inez? The women?"</p>
+<p>"Don't know," said Benito, half bewildered. The woman's wail for
+a lost child leaped terrifyingly into his recollection. His hand
+went up as if to ward off something. "Don't know," he repeated.
+"Wasn't home when--fire started."</p>
+<p>It came to him weirdly that he was talking like a drunken man;
+that Adrian eyed him with a sharp disfavor. "Where the devil were
+you, then?"</p>
+<p>"At the ranch," he answered. Suddenly he laughed. It all seemed
+very funny. He had meant to give his wife a Christmas present;
+later he had ridden madly to her rescue, yet here he was passing
+buckets in a fire brigade. And Adrian, regarding him with
+suspicion, accusing him silently with his eyes.</p>
+<p>"You take the pail," he cried. "You fight the fire." And while
+Stanley looked puzzledly after him, Benito charged through a circle
+of spectators up the hill. He did not know that his face was almost
+black; that his eyebrows and the little foreign moustache of which
+they had made fun at the mines was charred and grizzled. He knew
+only that Alice might be in danger. That the fire might have spread
+west as well as east and north.</p>
+<p>As he sped up Washington street another loud explosion drummed
+against his ears. A shout followed it. Benito neither knew nor
+cared for its significance. Five minutes later he stumbled across
+his own doorsill, calling his wife's name. There was no answer.
+Frenziedly he shouted "Alice! Alice!" till at last a neighbor
+answered him.</p>
+<p>"She and Mrs. Stanley and the baby went to Preacher Taylor's
+house. Is the fire out?"</p>
+<p>"No," returned Benito. Once more he plunged down hill, seized a
+bucket and began the interminable passing of water. He looked about
+for Adrian but did not see him. He became a machine, dully,
+persistently, desperately performing certain ever-repeated
+tasks.</p>
+<p>Hours seemed to pass. Then, of a sudden, something interrupted
+the accustomed trend. He held out his hands and no bucket met it.
+With a look of stupid surprise he stared at the man behind him. He
+continued to hold out his hand.</p>
+<p>"Wake up," cried the other, and gave him a whack across the
+shoulders. "Wake up, Benito, man. The fire's out."</p>
+<p>Robert Parker, whose hotel was a litter of smoking timbers, and
+Tom Maguire, owner of what once had been the Eldorado gambling
+house, were discussing their losses.</p>
+<p>"Busted?" Parker asked.</p>
+<p>"Cleaned!" Maguire answered.</p>
+<p>"Goin' to rebuild?"</p>
+<p>"Yep. And you?"</p>
+<p>"Sartin. Sure. Soon as I can get the lumber and a loan."</p>
+<p>"Put her there, pard."</p>
+<p>Their hands met with a smack.</p>
+<p>"That's the spirit of San Francisco," Ridley remarked. "Well
+we've learned a lesson. Next time we'll be ready for this sort of
+thing. Broderick's planning already for an engine company."</p>
+<p>"I reckon," Adrian commented as he joined the group, "a
+vigilance committee is what we need even more."</p>
+<p>To this Benito made no answer. Into his mind flashed a memory of
+the trio that had left Thieves' Hollow at daybreak.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2>
+<h3>POLITICS AND A WARNING</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Benito Windham rose reluctantly and stretched himself. It was
+very comfortable in the living-room of the ranch house, where a
+fire crackled in the huge stone grate built by his grandfather's
+Indian artisans. Many of the valuable tapestries imported from
+Spain had been removed by McTurpin during his tenure, but even bare
+adobe walls were cheerful in the light of blazing logs, and rugs of
+native weave accorded well with the simple mission furniture. In a
+great chair that almost swallowed her sat Alice, gazing dreamily
+into the embers. Family portraits hung upon the wall, and one of
+these, stiff and haughty in the regimentals of a soldado de cuero,
+seemed to look down upon the domestic picture with a certain
+austere benignity. This was the painting of Francisco Garvez of
+hidalgo lineage, who had stood beside Ortega, the Pathfinder, when
+that honored scout of Portola had found the bay of San Francisco
+and the Golden Gate.</p>
+<p>"Carissima, how he would have loved you, that old man!" Benito's
+tone was dreamy.</p>
+<p>Alice Windham turned. "You are like him, Benito," she said
+fondly. "There is the same flash in your eye. Come, sit for awhile
+by the fire. It's so cosy when it storms."</p>
+<p>Benito kissed her. "I would that I might, but today there is an
+election in the city," he reminded. "I must go to vote. Perhaps I
+can persuade the good Broderick to dine with us this evening; or
+Brannan--though he is so busy nowadays. Often I look about
+unconsciously for Nathan Spear. It seems impossible that he is
+dead."</p>
+<p>"He was 47, but he seemed so young," commented Alice. She rose
+hastily. "You must be very careful, dear," she cautioned, with a
+swift anxiety, "of the cold and wet--and of the hoodlums. They tell
+me there are many. Every week one reads in the <i>Alta</i> that
+So-and-So was killed at the Eldorado or the Verandah. Never more
+than that. In my home in the East they would call it murder. There
+would be a great commotion; the assassin would be hanged."</p>
+<p>"Ah, yes; but this is a new country," he said, a little
+lamely.</p>
+<p>"Will there never be law in San Francisco?" Alice asked him,
+passionately. "I have not forgotten--how my father died."</p>
+<p>Benito's face went suddenly white. "Nor I," he said, with an odd
+intensity; "there are several things ... that you may trust me ...
+to remember."</p>
+<p>"You mean," she queried in alarm, "McTurpin?"</p>
+<p>Benito's mood changed. "There, my dear." He put an arm about her
+shoulders soothingly. "Don't worry. I'll be careful; neither storm
+nor bullets shall harm me. I will promise you that."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Early as it was in the day's calendar--for San Francisco had no
+knack of rising with the sun--Benito found the town awake,
+intensely active when he picked his way along the edge of those
+dangerous bogs that passed for business streets. Several polling
+places had been established. Toward each of them, lines of citizens
+converged in patient single-file detachments that stretched usually
+around the corner and the length of another block. Official
+placards announced that all citizens of the United States were
+entitled to the ballot and beneath one of these, a wag had written
+with white chalk in a large and sprawling hand:</p>
+<p>"No Chinese Coolies in Disguise Need Apply."</p>
+<p>No one seemed to mind the rain, though a gale blew from the sea,
+causing a multitude of tents to sway and flap in dangerous fashion.
+Now and then a canvas habitation broke its moorings and went racing
+down the hill, pursued by a disheveled and irate occupant,
+indulging in the most violent profanity.</p>
+<p>At Kearny and Sacramento streets Benito, approaching the voting
+station, was told to get in line by Charley Elleard, the town
+constable. Elleard rode his famous black pony. This pony was the
+pet of the town and had developed a sagacity nearly human. It was
+considered wondrous sport to give the little animal a "two-bit"
+piece, which it would gravely hold between its teeth and present to
+the nearest bootblack, placing its forefeet daintily upon the
+footrests for a "shine."</p>
+<p>As he neared the polls in the slow succession of advancing
+voters, Benito was beset by a rabble of low-voiced, rough-dressed
+men, who thrust their favorite tickets into his hands and bade him
+vote as indicated, often in a threatening manner. Raucously they
+tried to cry each other down. "Here's for Geary and the good old
+council," one would shout. "Geary and his crowd forever."</p>
+<p>"We've had the old one too long," a red-shirted six-footer
+bellowed. "Fresh blood for me. We want sidewalks and clean
+streets."</p>
+<p>This provoked a chorus of "Aye! Aye! That's the ticket, pard,"
+until a satirical voice exclaimed, "Clean streets and sidewalks!
+Gor a'mighty. He's dreamin' o' Heaven!"</p>
+<p>A roar of laughter echoed round the town at this sally. It was
+repeated everywhere. The campaign slogan was hastily dropped.</p>
+<p>At the polling desk Benito found himself behind a burly Kanaka
+sailor, dark as an African.</p>
+<p>"I contest his vote," cried one of the judges. "If he's an
+American, I'm a Hottentot."</p>
+<p>"Where were you born?" asked the challenging judge of
+election.</p>
+<p>"New York," whispered a voice in the Kanaka's ear, and he
+repeated the word stammeringly. "Where was your father born?" came
+the second question, and again the word was repeated. "What part of
+New York?"</p>
+<p>"New York, New York." The answer was parrot-like. Someone
+laughed.</p>
+<p>"Ask him what part of the Empire State he hails from?" suggested
+another. The question was put in simpler form, but it proved too
+much for the Islander. He stammered, stuttered, waved his hand
+uncertainly toward the ocean. Perceiving that he was the butt of
+public jest, he broke out of the line and made off as fast as his
+long legs could transport him.</p>
+<p>The man whose whispered promptings had proved unavailing, fell
+sullenly into the background, after venomous glance at the
+successful objector. Benito caught his eyes under the dripping
+crown of a wide-brimmed slouch hat. They seemed to him vaguely
+familiar. Almost instinctively his hand sought the pocket in which
+his derringer reposed. Then, with a laugh, he dismissed the matter.
+He had no quarrel with the fellow; that murderous look was aimed at
+Henry Mellus, not at him. So he cast his ballot and went out.</p>
+<p>Opposite the Square he paused to note the progress of
+rehabilitation in the burned area. It was less than a fortnight
+since he had stood there feverishly passing buckets of water in a
+fight against the flames, but already most of the evidences of
+conflagration were hidden behind the framework of new buildings.
+The Eldorado announced a grand opening in the "near future";
+Maguire's Jenny Lind Theater notified one in conspicuous letters,
+"We Will Soon Be Ready for Our Patrons, Bigger and Grander Than
+Ever."</p>
+<p>Benito nodded to Robert Parker, whose hotel was rising,
+phoenix-like from its ashes.</p>
+<p>"Things are coming along," he said with a gesture toward the
+buildings. "Have you seen anything of Dave Broderick?"</p>
+<p>Parker shook the rain-drops from his hat. "Saw him going toward
+the Bella Union," he replied. "They say he's as good as elected. A
+fine State senator he'll make, too." Taking Benito's arm, he walked
+with him out of earshot of those nearby.</p>
+<p>"Benito," his tone was grave. "They tell me you've resumed
+possession of your ranch."</p>
+<p>"Yes," confirmed the younger. "Half a dozen of my old servants
+are there with Mrs. Windham and myself. I've bought a little stock
+on credit and all's going well."</p>
+<p>For a moment Parker said nothing; then, almost in Benito's ear,
+he spoke a warning: "Do you know that McTurpin is back?"</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2>
+<h3>ON THE TRAIL OF McTURPIN</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Benito, in a mood of high excitement, strode uphill toward the
+Bella Union, pondering the significance of Parker's startling
+information.</p>
+<p>So McTurpin had come back.</p>
+<p>He had been about to ask for further details when one of the
+hurrying workmen called his informant away. After all it did not
+matter much just how or when the gambler had returned. They were
+sure to meet sooner or later. Once more Windham's hand
+unconsciously sought the pistol in his pocket. At the entrance of
+the Bella Union he halted, shook the rain from his hat, scraped the
+mud from his feet upon a pile of gunnysacks which served as
+doormats, and went into the brilliant room. Since the temporary
+closing of the Eldorado, this place had become the most elegant and
+crowded of the city's gaming palaces. A mahogany bar extended the
+length of the building; huge hanging lamps surrounded by ornate
+clusters of prisms lent an air of jeweled splendor which the large
+mirrors and pyramids of polished glasses back of the counter
+enhanced. On a platform at the rear were several Mexican musicians
+in rich native costumes twanging gaily upon guitars and mandolins.
+Now and then one of them sang, or a Spanish dancer pirouetted,
+clicking her castanets and casting languishing glances at the ring
+of auditors about her. These performers were invariably showered
+with coins. Tables of all sizes filled the center of the room from
+the long roulette board to the little round ones where drinks were
+served. Faro, monte, roulette, rouge et noir, vingt-un,
+chuck-a-luck and poker: each found its disciples; now and then a
+man went quietly out and another took his place; there was nothing
+to indicate that he had lost perhaps thousands of dollars, the
+"clean-up" of a summer of hardships at the mines. A bushy bearded
+miner boasted that he had won $40,000 and lost it again in an hour
+and a half. Henry Mellus offered him work as a teamster and the
+other accepted.</p>
+<p>"Easy come, easy go," he commented philosophically and, lighting
+his pipe from one of the sticks of burning punk placed at intervals
+along the bar, he went out.</p>
+<p>In an out-of-the-way corner, where the evening's noise and
+activity ebbed and flowed a little more remotely, Benito discovered
+Broderick chewing an unlighted cigar and discussing the
+probabilities of election with John Geary. They hailed him
+cordially, but in a little while Geary drifted off to learn further
+news of the polls.</p>
+<p>"And how is the charming Mrs. Windham?" asked Broderick.</p>
+<p>"Well and happy, thank you," said Benito. "She loves the old
+place. Cannot you dine with us there tonight?"</p>
+<p>"With real pleasure," Broderick returned. "In this raw,
+boisterous place a chance to enjoy a bit of home life, to talk with
+a high-bred woman is more precious than gold."</p>
+<p>Benito bowed. "It is not often that we have a Senator for a
+guest," he returned, smiling.</p>
+<p>Broderick placed a hand upon his shoulder almost paternally. "I
+hope that is prophetic, Benito," he said. "I'm strangely serious
+about it. This town has taken hold of me--your San Francisco."</p>
+<p>They turned to greet Sam Brannan, now a candidate for the
+ayuntamiento or town council. "How goes it, Sam?" asked
+Broderick.</p>
+<p>"Well enough," responded Brannan. He looked tired, irritated.
+"There's been a conspiracy against us by the rowdy element, but I
+think we've beaten them now."</p>
+<p>Broderick's brow clouded. "We need a better government; a more
+effective system of police, Sam," he said, striking his first
+against the table.</p>
+<p>"What we need," said Brannan, "is a citizens' society of public
+safety; a committee of vigilance. And, mark my word, we're going to
+have 'em. There's more than one who suspects the town was set afire
+last December."</p>
+<p>"But," said Broderick, "mob rule is dangerous. The constituted
+authorities must command. They are the ones to uphold the law."</p>
+<p>"But what if they don't?" Brannan's aggressive chin was thrust
+forward. "What then?"</p>
+<p>"They must be made to; but authority should not be overthrown.
+That's revolution."</p>
+<p>"And where, may I ask, would human liberty be today if there'd
+never been a revolution?" Brannan countered.</p>
+<p>Benito left them. He had no stomach for such argument, though he
+was to hear much more of it in years to come. Suddenly he recalled
+the man who had tried to coach the Kanaka; who had glared so
+murderously at Mellus. Those eyes had been familiar; something
+about them had made him grip his pistol, an impulse at which
+afterward he had laughed. But now he knew the reason for that
+half-involuntary action. Despite the beard and mustache covering
+the lower portion of his face completely; despite the low-pulled
+hat, the disguising ulster, he knew the man.</p>
+<p>McTurpin.</p>
+<p>The hot Spanish temper which he had never entirely mastered,
+flamed like a scorching blast across Benito's mind. He saw again
+McTurpin smiling as he won by fraud the stake at cards which he had
+laid against Benito's ranch; he seemed to hear again the gambler's
+sneering laugh as he, his father and Adrian had been ambushed at
+the entrance of his home; in his recollection burned the fellow's
+insult to his sister; the abduction of Alice, his wife; the murder
+of his partner. He was certain that McTurpin had somehow been at
+the bottom of it. Swiftly he was lost to all reason. He took the
+weapon from his pocket, examined it carefully to make certain that
+the caps were unimpaired by moisture. Then he set forth.</p>
+<p>At the polling station he made casual inquiries, but the
+ballot-box stuffer for some time had not been seen.</p>
+<p>"Charley Elleard ran him off, I think," said Frank Ward,
+laughing. "He'd have voted Chinamen and Indians if he'd had his
+way. But if you're looking for the rascal try the gambling house at
+Long Wharf and Montgomery street; that's where his kind hang
+out."</p>
+<p>Later in the spring of 1850 Montgomery street was graded. Now it
+was a sloping streak of mud, the western side of which was several
+feet above the other. Where Long Wharf, which was to be cut through
+and called Commercial street, intersected, or rather bisected
+Montgomery, stood a large building with a high, broad roof. Its
+eaves projected over a row of benches, and here, sheltered somewhat
+from the rain, a group of Mexicans and Chilenos lounged in
+picturesque native costumes, smoking cigarettes. Through the door
+came a rollicking melody--sailor tunes played by skillful
+performers--and a hum of converse punctuated by the click of chips
+and coin. Benito entered. The room was blue with cigarette smoke,
+its score of tables glimpsed as through a fog. Sawdust covered the
+floor and men of all nationalities mingled quietly enough at play
+of every kind. A stream of men came and went to and from the gaming
+boards and bar.</p>
+<p>Benito ordered a drink, and surveyed the room searchingly. The
+man he sought was not in evidence. "Is McTurpin here?" he asked the
+bartender.</p>
+<p>If that worthy heard, he made no answer; but a slight, agile man
+with sly eyes looked up from a nearby table, "What d'ye want of
+him, stranger?"</p>
+<p>An arrogant retort sprang to Benito's lips, but he checked it.
+He bent toward the questioner confidentially. "I've news for Alec,"
+he whispered; "news he ought to know--and quickly."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h2>
+<h3>THE SQUATTER CONSPIRACY</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Instantly the slight man rose. He had narrow eyes, shrewd and
+calculating and the sinuous motions of a contortionist. Linking his
+arm with Benito's, he smiled, disclosing small, discolored teeth.
+There was something ratlike about him, infinitely repellant. "Come,
+I'll tyke ye to 'im," he volunteered.</p>
+<p>But this did not suit Benito's purpose. "I must go alone," he
+said emphatically.</p>
+<p>The other eyed him with suspicion. "Then find him alone," he
+countered, sullenly. But a moment later he was plucking at Benito's
+elbow. "What's it all abaout, this 'ere news? Cawn't ye tell a
+fellow? Give me an inklin'; trust me and I'll trust you; that's
+business."</p>
+<p>Benito hesitated. "It's about the ranch," he returned at a
+venture.</p>
+<p>"Ow, the rawnch. Well, you needn't 'ave been so bloody sly about
+it. Alec isn't worried much abaout the rawnch. 'E's bigger fish to
+fry. But you can see 'im if you wants. 'E's at the Broken Bottle
+Tavern up in Sydney Town."</p>
+<p>They had a drink together; then Benito parted from his
+informant, ruminating over what the little man, so palpably a
+"Sydney Duck," had told him.</p>
+<p>Benito surveyed his reflection in a glass. In his
+rain-bedraggled attire he might pass for one of the Sydney Ducks
+himself. His boots were splashed with mud, his scrape wrinkled and
+formless. He pulled the dripping hat into a disheveled slouch, low
+down on his forehead. McTurpin had not seen him with a beard, had
+failed to recognize him at the polling station. Benito decided to
+risk it.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>One of the largest and most pretentious of Sydney Town's "pubs,"
+or taverns, was The Broken Bottle, kept by a former English
+pugilist from Botany Bay. He was known as Bruiser Jake, could
+neither read nor write and was shaped very much like a log, his
+neck being as large as his head. It was said that the Australian
+authorities had tried to hang him several times, but failed because
+the noose slipped over his chin and ears, refusing its usual
+function. So he finally had been given a "ticket of leave" and had
+come to California. Curiously enough the Bruiser never drank. He
+prided himself on his sobriety and the great strength of his
+massive hands in which he could squeeze the water out of a potato.
+Ordinarily he was not quarrelsome, though he fought like a tiger
+when aroused.</p>
+<p>Benito found this worthy behind his bar and asked for a drink of
+English ale, a passable quality of which was served in the original
+imported bottles at most public houses.</p>
+<p>The Bruiser watched him furtively with little piglike eyes. "And
+who might ye be, stranger?" he asked when Benito set down his
+glass.</p>
+<p>"'Awkins--that's as good a nyme as another," said Benito,
+essaying the cockney speech. "And what ye daon't know won't 'urt
+you, my friend." He threw down a silver piece, took the bottle and
+glass with him and sat down at a table near the corner. Hard by he
+had glimpsed the familiar broad back of McTurpin.</p>
+<p>At first the half-whispered converse of the trio at the
+adjoining table was incomprehensible to his ears, but after a time
+he caught words, phrases, sentences.</p>
+<p>First the word "squatters" reached him, several times repeated;
+then, "at Rincon." Finally, "the best lots in the city can be
+held."</p>
+<p>After that for a time he lost the thread of the talk. An
+argument arose, and, in its course, McTurpin's voice was raised
+incautiously.</p>
+<p>"Who's to stop us?" he contended, passionately. "The old alcalde
+grants aren't worth the paper they're written on. Haven't squatters
+dispossessed the Spaniards all over California? Didn't they take
+the San Antonio ranch in Oakland, defend it with cannon, and put
+old Peralta in jail for bothering them with his claims of
+ownership?" He laughed. "It's a rare joke, this land business. If
+we squat on the Rincon, who'll dispossess us? Answer me that."</p>
+<p>"But it's government ground. It's leased to Ted Shillaber," one
+objected.</p>
+<p>"To the devil with Shillaber," McTurpin answered. "He won't know
+we're going to squat till we've put up our houses. And when he
+comes we'll quote him squatter law. He can buy us off if he likes.
+It'll cost him uncommon high. He can fight us in the courts and
+we'll show him squatter justice. We've our friends in the courts,
+let me tell you."</p>
+<p>"Aye, mayhap," returned a lanky, red-haired sailor, "but there's
+them o' us, like you and me and Andy, yonder, what isn't hankerin'
+for courts."</p>
+<p>McTurpin leaned forward, and his voice diminished so that Benito
+could scarcely hear his words. "Don't be afraid," he said. "I've
+got my men selected for the Rincon business, a full dozen of 'em
+... all with clean records, mind ye. Nothing against them." He
+pounded the table with his fist by way of emphasis. "And when we've
+done old Shillaber, we'll come in closer. We'll claim lots that are
+worth fifty thou--" He paused. His tone sank even lower, so that
+some of his sentence was lost.</p>
+<p>It was at this juncture that Benito sneezed. He had felt the
+approach of that betraying reflex for some minutes, but had stifled
+it. Those who have tried this under similar circumstances know the
+futility of such attempts; know the accumulated fury of sound with
+which at length bursts forth the startling, terrible and
+irrepressible</p>
+<p>"Ker-CHEW!"</p>
+<p>McTurpin and his two companions wheeled like lightning. "Who's
+this?" the gambler snarled. He took a step toward the Bruiser. "Who
+the devil let him in to spy on us?"</p>
+<p>"Aw, stow it, Alec!" said the former fighter. "'E's no spy. 'E's
+one o' our lads from the bay. Hi can tell by 'is haccent."</p>
+<p>Benito rose. His hand crept toward the derringer, but McTurpin
+was before him. "Don't try that, blast you!" he commanded. "Now, my
+friend, let's have a look at you.... By the Eternal! It's young
+Windham!"</p>
+<p>"The cove you don hout o' his rawnch?" asked the Bruiser,
+curiously.</p>
+<p>"Shut up, you fool!" roared the gambler. His face was white with
+fury. "What are you doing here?" he asked Benito.</p>
+<p>"Getting some points on--er--land holding," said Windham. He was
+perfectly calm. Several times this man had overawed, outwitted,
+beaten him. Now, though he was in the enemy's country, surrounded
+by cutthroats and thieves, he felt suddenly the master of the
+situation. Perhaps it was McTurpin's dismay, perhaps the spur of
+his own danger. He knew that there was only one escape, and that
+through playing on McTurpin's anger. "A most ingenious scheme, but
+it'll fail you!"</p>
+<p>"And why'll it fail, my young jackanapes?" the gambler blazed at
+him. "Do you reckon I'll let you go to give the alarm?"</p>
+<p>It was then Benito threw his bombshell. It was but a shrewd
+guess. Yet it worked amazingly. "Your plan will fail," he said with
+slow distinctness, "because Sam Brennan and Alcalde Geary know you
+set the town afire. Because they're going to hang you."</p>
+<p>Rage and terror mingled in McTurpin's face. Speechless,
+paralyzing wrath that held him open-mouthed a moment. In that
+moment Windham acted quickly. He hurled the bottle, still half full
+of ale, at his antagonist, missed him by the fraction of an inch
+and sent the missile caroming against the Bruiser's ear, thence
+down among a pyramid of glasses. There was a shivering tinkle; then
+the roar as of a maddened bull. The Bruiser charged. Windham shot
+twice into the air and fled. He heard a rending crash behind him, a
+voice that cried aloud in mortal pain, a shot. Then, silence.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h2>
+<h3>"GROWING PAINS"</h3>
+<br>
+<p>On the morning of February 28, 1850, Theodore Shillaber, with a
+number of friends, made a visit to the former's leased land on the
+Rincon, later known as Rincon Hill. Here, on the old government
+reserve, whose guns had once flanked Yerba Buena Cove, Shillaber
+had secured a lease on a commanding site which he planned to
+convert into a fashionable residence section. What was his
+surprise, then, to find the scenic promontory covered with
+innumerable rickety and squalid huts. A tall and muscular young
+fellow with open-throated shirt and stalwart, hirsute chest,
+swaggered toward him, fingering rather carelessly, it seemed to
+Shillaber, the musket he held.</p>
+<p>"Lookin' for somebody, stranger?" he inquired, meaningly.</p>
+<p>Shillaber, somewhat taken aback, inquired by what right the
+members of this colony held possession.</p>
+<p>"Squatter's rights," returned the large youth, calmly, and spat
+uncomfortably near to Shillaber's polished boots.</p>
+<p>"And what are squatter's rights, may I ask?" said Shillaber,
+striving to control his rising temper.</p>
+<p>The youth tapped his rifle barrel. "Anyone that tries to
+dispossess us'll soon find out," he returned gruffly, and, turning
+his back on the visitors, he strode back toward his cabin.</p>
+<p>"Wait," called Shillaber, red with wrath, "I notify you now, in
+the presence of witnesses that if you and all your scurvy crew are
+not gone bag and baggage within twentyfour hours, I'll have the
+authorities dispossess you and throw you into jail for
+trespassing."</p>
+<p>The large young man halted and presented a grinning face to his
+threatener. He did not deign to reply, but, as though he had given
+a signal, shrill cackles of laughter broke out in a dozen
+places.</p>
+<p>Shillaber, who was a choleric man, shook his fist at them. He
+was too angry for speech.</p>
+<p>Shillaber had more than his peck of trouble with the Sydney
+Ducks that roosted on his land. He sent the town authorities to
+dispossess them, but without result. There were too many squatters
+and too few police. Next he sent an agent to collect rents, but the
+man returned with a sore head and bruised body, minus coin.
+Shillaber was on the verge of insanity. He appealed to everyone
+from the prefect to the governor. In Sydney Town his antics were
+the sport of a gay and homogeneous population and at the public
+houses one might hear the flouted landlord rave through the
+impersonations of half a dozen clever mimics. At The Broken Bottle
+a new boniface held forth. Bruiser Jake had mysteriously
+disappeared on the evening of election. And with him had vanished
+Alec McTurpin, though a sly-eyed little man now and then brought
+messages from the absent leader.</p>
+<p>In the end Shillaber triumphed, for he persuaded Captain Keyes,
+commander at the Presidio, that the squatters were defying Federal
+law. Thus, one evening, a squad of cavalry descended upon the
+Rincon squatters, scattering them like chaff and demolishing their
+flimsy habitations in the twinkling of an eye. But this did not end
+squatterism. Some of the evicted took up claims on lots closer in.
+A woman's house was burned and she, herself, was driven off.
+Another woman was shot while defending her husband's home during
+his absence.</p>
+<p>Meanwhile, San Francisco's streets had been graded and planked.
+The old City Hall, proving inadequate, was succeeded by a converted
+hotel. The Graham House, a four-story wooden affair of many
+balconies, at Kearny and Pacific streets, was now the seat of local
+government.</p>
+<p>For it the council paid the extraordinary sum of $150,000,
+thereby provoking a storm of newspaper discussion. Three
+destructive fires had ravaged through the cloth and paper
+districts, and on their ashes more substantial structures
+stood.</p>
+<p>There was neither law nor order worthy of the name. Only
+feverish activity. A newsboy who peddled Altas on the streets made
+$40,000 from his operations; another vendor of the Sacramento
+Union, boasted $30,000 for his pains. A washerwoman left her hut on
+the lagoon and built a "mansion." Laundering, enhanced by real
+estate investments, had given her a fortune of $100,000.</p>
+<p>Social strata were not yet established. Caste was practically
+unknown. Former convicts married, settled down, became respected
+citizens. Carpenters, bartenders, laborers, mechanics from the East
+and Middle West, became bankers, Senators, judges, merchant princes
+and promoters.</p>
+<p>White linen replaced red flannel, bowie knives and revolvers
+were sedately hidden beneath frock coats, the vicuna hat was a
+substitute for slouch and sombrero.</p>
+<p>But, under it all, the fierce, restless heart of San Francisco
+beat on unchanged. In it stirred the daring, the lawless adventure,
+the feverish ambition and the hair-trigger pride of argonauts from
+many lands. And in it burned the deviltry, brutality,
+licentiousness and greed of criminal elements freed from the curb
+of legal discipline.</p>
+<p>David Broderick discussed it frequently with Alice Windham. He
+had fallen into a habit of coming to the ranch when wearied by
+affairs of state. He was a silent, brooding man, robbed somehow of
+his national heritage, a sense of humor, for he had Irish blood. He
+was a man of fire, implacable as an enemy, inalienable as a friend.
+And to Alice, as she sat embroidering or knitting before the fire,
+he told many of his dreams, his plans. She would nod her head
+sagely, giving him her eyes now and then--eyes that were clear and
+calm with understanding.</p>
+<p>Thus Alice came to know what boded for the town of San
+Francisco. "Benito," she said one night, when Broderick had gone,
+"Benito, my dearest, will you let me stir you--even if it wounds?"
+She came up behind him quickly; put her arms about his neck and
+leaned her golden head against his own. "We are sitting here too
+quietly ... while life goes by," her tone was wistful. "You,
+especially, Benito. Outside teems the world; the gorgeous, vibrant
+world of which our David speaks."</p>
+<p>"What do you want me to do?" he asked, stirring restlessly, "go
+into business? Make money--like Adrian?"</p>
+<p>"No, no," she nestled closer. "It isn't money that I crave. We
+are happy here. But"--she looked up at the portrait of Francisco
+Garvez, and Benito followed her glance. "What would he have you
+do?"</p>
+<p>"I promised him in thought," her husband said, "that I would
+help to build the city he loved. It was a prophecy," his tone grew
+dreamy, "a prophecy that he and his--the Garvez blood--should
+always stir in San Francisco's heart." Swiftly he rose and,
+standing very straight before the picture, raised his right hand to
+salute. "You are right," he said. "He would have wanted me to be a
+soldier."</p>
+<p>But Alice shook her head. "The conquest is over," she told him.
+"San Francisco needs no gun nor saber now. In our courts and
+legislatures lie the future battlegrounds for justice. You must
+study law, Benito.... I want"--quick color tinged her face--"I want
+my--son to have a father who--"</p>
+<p>"Alice!" cried Benito. But she fled from him. The door of her
+bedroom closed behind her. But it opened again very softly--"who
+makes his country's laws," she finished, fervently.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI</h2>
+<h3>THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEE</h3>
+<br>
+<p>About 8 o'clock on the evening of February 19, 1851, two men
+entered the store of C.J. Jansen &amp; Co., a general merchandise
+shop on Montgomery street. The taller and older presented a
+striking figure. He was of such height that, possibly from entering
+many low doorways, he had acquired a slight stoop. His beard was
+long and dark, his hair falling to the collar, was a rich and wavy
+brown. He had striking eyes, an aquiline nose and walked with a
+long, measured stride. Charles Jansen, alone in the store, noted
+these characteristics half unconsciously and paid little attention
+to the smaller man who lurked behind his companion in the
+shadows.</p>
+<p>"Show me some blankets," said the tall man peremptorily. Jansen
+did not like his tone, nor his looks for that matter, but he turned
+toward a shelf where comforters, sheets and blankets were piled in
+orderly array. As he did so he heard a quick step behind him; the
+universe seemed to split asunder in a flash of countless stars. And
+then the world turned black.</p>
+<p>Hours afterward his partner found him prone behind the counter,
+a great bleeding cut on his head. The safe stood open and a hasty
+examination revealed the loss of $2,000 in gold dust and coin.
+Jansen was revived with difficulty and, after a period of delirium,
+described what had occurred. The next morning's Alta published a
+sensational account of the affair, describing Jansen's assailant
+and stating that the victim's recovery was uncertain.</p>
+<p>As Adrian, Benito and Samuel Brannan passed the new city hall on
+the morning of February 22, they noticed that a crowd was
+gathering. People seemed to be running from all directions.
+Newsboys with huge armfuls of morning papers, thrust them in the
+faces of pedestrians, crying, "Extra! Extra! Assassins of Jansen
+caught." Adrian tossed the nearest lad a two-bit piece and grasped
+the outstretched sheet. It related in heavy blackfaced type the
+arrest of "two scoundrelly assassins," one of whom, James Stuart, a
+notorious "Sydney Duck," was wanted in Auburn for the murder of
+Sheriff Moore. This was the man identified by Jansen. He claimed
+mistaken identity, however, insisting that his name was Thomas
+Berdue.</p>
+<p>"They'll let him go on that ridiculous plea, no doubt," remarked
+Brannan, wrathfully. "There are always a dozen alibis and false
+witnesses for these gallows-birds. It's time the people were doing
+something."</p>
+<p>"It looks very much as though we <i>were</i> doing something,"
+said Benito, with a glance at the gathering crowd.</p>
+<p>There were shouts of "Lynch them! Bring them out and hang them
+to a tree!" Someone thrust a handbill toward Benito, who grasped it
+mechanically. It read:</p>
+<blockquote>CITIZENS OF SAN FRANCISCO<br>
+<br>
+The series of murders and robberies that have been committed in the
+city seems to leave us entirely in a state of anarchy. Law, it
+appears, is but a nonentity to be sneered at; redress can be had
+for aggression but through the never-failing remedy so admirably
+laid down in the Code of Judge Lynch.<br>
+<br>
+All those who would rid our city of its robbers and murderers will
+assemble on Sunday at 2 o'clock on the Plaza.</blockquote>
+<br>
+<p>"This means business," commented Adrian grimly. "It may mean
+worse unless their temper cools. I've heard this Stuart has a
+double. They should give him time--"</p>
+<p>"Bosh!" cried Brannan, "they should string him up immediately."
+He waved the handbill aloft. "Hey, boys," he called out loudly,
+"let us go and take them. Let us have a little justice in this
+town."</p>
+<p>"Aye, aye," cried a score of voices. Instantly a hundred men
+rushed up the stairs and pushed aside policemen stationed at the
+doors. They streamed inward, hundreds more pushing from the rear
+until the court room was reached. There they halted suddenly. Angry
+shouts broke from the rear. "What's wrong ahead? Seize the rascals.
+Bring them out!"</p>
+<p>But the front rank of that invading army paused for an excellent
+reason. They faced a row of bayonets with determined faces behind
+them. Sheriff Hayes had sensed the brewing troubles and had brought
+the Washington Guards quietly in at a rear entrance.</p>
+<p>So the crowd fell back and the first mob rush was baffled.
+Outside the people still talked angrily. At least a thousand
+thronged the court house, surrounding it with the determined and
+angry purpose of letting no one escape. Mayor Geary made his way
+with difficulty through the press and urged them to disperse. He
+assured them that the law would take its proper course and that
+there was no danger of the prisoners' release or escape. They
+listened to him respectfully but very few left their posts. Here
+and there speakers addressed the multitude.</p>
+<p>The crowd, the first fever abated, had resolved itself into a
+semi-parliamentary body. But no real leader had arisen. And so it
+arrived at nothing save the appointment of a committee to confer
+with the authorities and insure the proper guarding of the
+prisoners. Brannan was one of these and Benito another.</p>
+<p>"Windham's getting to be a well-known citizen," said a bystander
+to Adrian, "I hear he's studying law with Hall McAllister. Used to
+be a dreamy sort of chap. He's waking up."</p>
+<p>"Yes, his wife is at the bottom of it," Stanley answered.</p>
+<p>Sunday morning 8,000 people surrounded the courthouse. Less
+turbulent than on the previous day, their purpose was more grimly
+certain.</p>
+<p>Mayor Geary's impressive figure appeared on the balcony of the
+court house. He held out a hand for silence and amid the hush that
+followed, spoke with brevity and to the point.</p>
+<p>"The people's will is final," he conceded, "but this very fact
+entails responsibility, noblesse oblige! What we want is justice,
+gentlemen. Now, I'll tell you how to make it sure. Appoint a jury
+of twelve men from among yourselves. Let them sit at the trial with
+the presiding judge. Their judgment shall be final. I pledge you my
+word for that."</p>
+<p>He ceased and again the crowd began murmuring. A tall,
+smooth-shaven youth began to talk with calm distinctness.</p>
+<p>There was about him the aspect of command. People ceased their
+talk to listen. "I move you, gentlemen," he shouted, "that a
+committee of twelve men be appointed from amongst us to retire and
+consider this situation calmly. They shall then report and if their
+findings are approved, they shall be law."</p>
+<p>"Good! Good!" came a chorus of voices. "Hurray for Bill Coleman.
+Make him chairman."</p>
+<p>Coleman bowed. "I thank you, gentlemen," he said, then crisply,
+like so many whip-cracks, he called the names of eleven men. One by
+one they answered and the crowd made way for them. Silently and in
+a body they departed.</p>
+<p>"There's a leader for you," exclaimed Adrian to his
+brother-in-law. Benito nodded, eyes ashine with admiration.
+Presently there was a stir among the crowd. The jury was returning.
+"Well, gentlemen," the mayor raised his voice, "what is the
+verdict?"</p>
+<p>Coleman answered: "We recommend that the prisoners be tried by
+the people. If the legal courts wish to aid they're invited.
+Otherwise we shall appoint a prosecutor and attorney for the
+prisoners. The trial will take place this afternoon."</p>
+<p>"Hurray! Hurray!" the people shouted. The cheers were
+deafening.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII</h2>
+<h3>THE PEOPLE'S JURY</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Benito, as he elbowed his way through a crowd which ringed the
+city hall that afternoon, was impressed by the terrific
+tight-lipped determination of those faces all about him. It was as
+though San Francisco had but one thought, one straight, relentless
+purpose--the punishment of crime by Mosaic law. The prisoners in
+the county jail appeared to sense this wave of retributive hatred,
+for they paced their cells like caged beasts.</p>
+<p>It was truly a case of "The People vs. Stuart (alias Berdue) and
+Windred," charged with robbery and assault. Coleman and his
+Committee of Twelve were in absolute charge. They selected as
+judges, three popular and trusted citizens, J.R. Spence, H.R. Bowie
+and C.L. Ross. W.A. Jones was named the judge's clerk and J.E.
+Townes the whilom sheriff.</p>
+<p>While the jury was impaneling, Brannan spoke to Benito: "Twelve
+good men and true; the phrase means something here. Lord, if we
+could have such jurymen as these in all our American courts."</p>
+<p>Benito nodded. "They've appointed Bill Coleman as public
+prosecutor; that's rather a joke on Bill."</p>
+<p>Judge Spence, who sat between his two colleagues, presiding on
+the bench, now spoke:</p>
+<p>"I appoint Judge Shattuck and--er--Hall McAllister as counsel
+for the defendants."</p>
+<p>There was a murmur of interest. Judge Shattuck, dignified, a
+trifle ponderous, came forward, spectacles in hand. He put them on,
+surveyed his clients with distaste, and took his place composedly
+at the table. Hall McAllister, dapper, young and something of a
+dandy, advanced with less assurance. He would have preferred the
+other side of the case, for he did not like running counter to the
+people.</p>
+<p>Amid a stir the prisoners were led forward to the dock. Judge
+Spence, looking down at them over his spectacles, read the charges.
+"Are you guilty or not guilty?" he asked.</p>
+<p>Windred, the younger, with a frightened glance about the court
+room, murmured almost inaudibly, "Not guilty." The other, in a deep
+and penetrating voice, began a sort of speech. It was incoherent,
+agonized. Benito thought it held a semblance of sincerity.</p>
+<p>"Always, your honor," he declared, "I am mistaken for that
+scoundrel; that Stuart.... I am a decent man ... but what is the
+use? I say it's terrible...."</p>
+<p>"Judge" Spence removed his eyeglasses and wiped them nervously;
+"does anyone in the courtroom recognize this man as Thomas
+Berdue?"</p>
+<p>There was silence. Then a hand rose. "I do," said the voice of a
+waterfront merchant. "I've done business with him under that
+name."</p>
+<p>Immediately there was an uproar. "A confederate," cried voices.
+"Put him out." A woman's voice in the background shrieked out
+shrilly, "Hang him, too!"</p>
+<p>McAllister rose. "There must be order here," he said,
+commandingly and the tumult subsided. McAllister addressed Berdue's
+sponsor. "Can you bring anyone else to corroborate your
+testimony?"</p>
+<p>The merchant, red and angry, cried: "It's nothing to me; hang
+him and be damned--if you don't want the truth. I'm not looking for
+trouble." He turned away but the prisoner called to him piteously.
+"Don't desert me. Find Jones or Murphy down at the long wharf.
+They'll identify me.... Hurry! Hurry! ... or they'll string me
+up!"</p>
+<p>"All right," agreed the other reluctantly. He left the court
+room and Judge Shattuck moved a postponement of the case.</p>
+<p>"Your honor," William Coleman now addressed the court, "this is
+no ordinary trial. Ten thousand people are around this courthouse.
+They are there because the public patience with legal decorum is
+exhausted; however regular and reasonable my colleague's plea might
+be in ordinary circumstances, I warn you that to grant it will
+provoke disorder."</p>
+<p>Judge Shattuck, startled, glanced out of the window and
+conferred with Hall McAllister.</p>
+<p>"I withdraw my petition," he said hurriedly. The case went
+on.</p>
+<p>Witnesses who were present when the prisoners were identified by
+Jansen gave their testimony. There was little cross-examination,
+though McAllister established Jansen's incomplete recovery of his
+mental faculties when the men were brought before him. Coleman
+pointed out the striking appearance of the older prisoner; there
+was little chance to err he claimed in such a case. The record of
+James Stuart was then dwelt upon; a history black with evil doing,
+red with blood. The jury retired with the sinister determined faces
+of men who have made up their minds.</p>
+<p>Meanwhile, outside, the crowd stood waiting, none too patiently.
+Now and then a messenger came to the balcony and shouted out the
+latest aspect of the drama being enacted inside. The word was
+caught up by the first auditor, passed along to right and left
+until the whole throng knew and speculated on each bit of
+information.</p>
+<p>Adrian, caught in the outer eddies of that human maelstrom,
+found himself beside Juana Briones. "The jury's out," she told him.
+"Jury's out!" the word swept onward. Then there came a long and
+silent wait. Once again the messenger appeared. "Still out," he
+bellowed, "having trouble." "What's the matter with them?" a score
+of voices shouted. Presently the messenger returned. His face was
+angry, almost apoplectic. One could see that he was having
+difficulty with articulation. He waved his hands in a gesture of
+impotent wrath. At last he found his voice and shouted, "Disagreed.
+The jury's disagreed."</p>
+<p>An uproar followed. "Hang the jury!" cried an irate voice. A
+rush was made for the entrance. But two hundred armed, determined
+men opposed the onslaught. The very magnitude of the human press
+defeated its own ends. Men cried aloud that they were being
+crushed. Women screamed.</p>
+<p>Soon or late the defenders must have fallen. But now a strange
+diversion occurred. On the balcony appeared General Baker, noted as
+the city's greatest orator. In his rich, sonorous tones, he began a
+political speech. It rang even above the excited shouts of the mob.
+Instantly there was a pause, an almost imperceptible let-down of
+the tension. Those who could not see asked eagerly of others,
+"What's the matter now? Who's talking?"</p>
+<p>"It's Ed Baker making a speech."</p>
+<p>Someone laughed. A voice roared. "Rah for Ed Baker." Others took
+it up.</p>
+<p>Impulsive, variable as the wind, San Francisco found a new
+adventure. It listened spellbound to golden eloquence, extolling
+the virtues of a favored candidate. Meanwhile Acting Sheriff Townes
+rushed his prisoners to the county jail without anyone so much as
+noticing their departure.</p>
+<p>Presently three men came hurrying up and with difficulty made
+their way into the court room.</p>
+<p>"Good God! Are we too late?" the leader of the trio asked,
+excitedly. He was the waterfront merchant who had recognized
+Berdue.</p>
+<p>"Too late for the trial," returned Coleman; "it's over; the
+jury's dismissed. Disagreed."</p>
+<p>"And what are they doing outside?" cried the other, "are they
+hanging the prisoners?"</p>
+<p>"No, the prisoners are safe," returned Coleman, "though they had
+a close enough shave, I'll admit." He laid a hand upon Benito's
+shoulder and there came a twinkle to his eyes. "Our young friend
+here had an inspiration--better than a hundred muskets. He sent Ed
+Baker out to charm them with his tongue."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII</h2>
+<h3>THE RECKONING</h3>
+<br>
+<p>It was June on the rancho Windham. Roses and honeysuckle climbed
+the pillars and lattices of the patio; lupin and golden poppies
+dotted the hillsides. Cloud-plumes waved across the faultless azure
+of a California summer sky and distant to the north and east, a
+million spangled flecks of sunlight danced upon the bay.</p>
+<p>David Broderick sat on a rustic bench, his eyes on Alice
+Windham. He thought, with a vague stirring of unrecognized emotion
+that she seemed the spirit of womanhood in the body of a fay.</p>
+<p>"A flower for your thoughts," she paraphrased and tossed him a
+rose. Instinctively he pressed it to his lips. He saw her color
+rise and turned away. For a moment neither spoke.</p>
+<p>"My thoughts," he said at length, "have been of evil men and
+trickery and ambition. I realize that, always, when I come
+here--when I see you, Alice Windham. For a little time I am
+uplifted. Then I go back to my devious toiling in the dark."</p>
+<p>A shadow crossed her eyes, but a smile quickly chased it away.
+"You are a fine man, David Broderick," she said, "brave and
+wonderful and strong. Why do you stoop to--"</p>
+<p>"To petty politics?" his answering smile was rueful. "Because I
+must--to gain my ends. To climb a hill-top often one must go into a
+valley. That is life."</p>
+<p>"No, that is sophistry," her clear, straight glance was on him
+searchingly. "You tell me that a statesman must be first a
+politician; that a politician must consort with rowdies, ballot-box
+stuffers, gamblers--even thieves. David Broderick, you're wrong.
+Women have their intuitions which are often truer than men's
+logic." She leaned forward, laid a hand half shyly on his arm. "I
+know this much, my friend: As surely as you climb your ladder with
+the help of evil forces, just so surely will they pull you
+down."</p>
+<p>It was thus that Benito came upon them. "Scolding Dave again?"
+He questioned merrily, "What has our Lieutenant-Governor been doing
+now?"</p>
+<p>"Consorting with rowdies, gamblers, ballot-box stuffers--not to
+mention thieves, 'twould seem," said Broderick with a forced laugh.
+Alice Windham's eyes looked hurt. "He has accused himself," she
+said with haste.</p>
+<p>"You're always your own worst critic, Dave," Benito said. "I
+want to tell you something: The Vigilance Committee forms this
+afternoon."</p>
+<p>The other's eyes flashed. "What is that to me?" he asked, with
+some asperity.</p>
+<p>"Only this," retorted Windham. "The committee means business;
+it's going to clean up the town--" Broderick made as if to speak
+but checked his utterance. Benito went on: "I tell you, Dave, you
+had better cut loose from your crowd. Some of them are going to get
+into trouble. You can't afford to have them running to you--calling
+you their master."</p>
+<p>He took from his pocket a folded paper. "We've been drafting a
+constitution, Hall McAllister and I." He read the rather
+stereotyped beginning. Broderick displayed small interest until
+Benito reached the conclusion:</p>
+<blockquote>WE ARE DETERMINED THAT NO THIEF, BURGLAR, INCENDIARY OR
+ASSASSIN SHALL ESCAPE PUNISHMENT EITHER BY THE QUIBBLES OF THE LAW,
+THE INSECURITY OF PRISONS, THE CARELESSNESS AND CORRUPTION OF
+POLICE OR A LAXITY OF THOSE WHO PRETEND TO ADMINISTER
+JUSTICE.</blockquote>
+<br>
+<p>"And do you mean," asked Broderick, "that these men will take
+the law into their own hands; that they'll apprehend so-called
+criminals and presume to mete out punishment according to their own
+ideas of justice?"</p>
+<p>"I mean just that," returned Benito.</p>
+<p>"Why--it's extraordinary," Broderick objected. "It's mob
+law--organized banditti."</p>
+<p>"You'll find it nothing of the sort," cried Windham hotly.</p>
+<p>"How can it be otherwise?' asked Broderick. What's to prevent
+rascals taking advantage of such a movement--running it to suit
+themselves? They're much cleverer than honest, men; more
+powerful.... Else do you think I'd use my political machine? No,
+no, Benito, this is farce--disaster."</p>
+<p>"Read this, then," urged Benito, and he thrust into the other's
+hand a list of some two hundred names. Broderick perused it with
+growing gravity. It represented the flower of San Francisco's
+business and professional aristocracy, men of all political creeds,
+religious, social affiliations.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>A few days afterward Broderick conferred with his lieutenants.
+Word went forth that he had cut his leading strings to city
+politics. Rumors of a storm were in the air. When it would break no
+one could say with certainty. The Committee of Vigilance had
+quietly established quarters on Battery street near Pine, where
+several secret meetings had been held and officers elected. These
+were not made known. Members were designated by numerals instead of
+names. Some said they wore masks but this was an unproven
+rumor.</p>
+<p>Broderick, brooding on these things one afternoon, was suddenly
+aware of many people running. He descried a man hastening down Long
+Wharf toward the bay. "Stop thief!" some one shouted. Others took
+it up. Broderick found himself running, too, over the loose boards
+of the wharf, in pursuit of the fleeing figure. The fugitive ran
+rapidly, despite a large burden slung over his shoulder. Presently
+he disappeared from view. But soon they glimpsed him in a boat,
+rowing lustily away.</p>
+<p>A dozen boats set out in chase. Shots rang out. "He's thrown his
+bundle in the water," someone cried. "He's diving," called another.
+A silence, then "We've got him," came a hail exultingly.</p>
+<p>Ere long a dripping figure surrounded by half a dozen captors,
+was brought upon the wharf. "He stole a safe from Virgin &amp;
+Co.," Broderick was told. "The Vigilantes have him. They'll hang
+him probably. Come along and see the show."</p>
+<p>"But where are the police?" asked Broderick. The man laughed
+contemptuously. "Where they always are--asleep," he answered, and
+went on.</p>
+<p>Others brought the news that John Jenkins, an Australian
+convict, was the prisoner. He had several times escaped the
+clutches of the "law." He seemed to treat the whole proceeding as a
+bit of horseplay, joking profanely with his captors, boasting of
+his crimes.</p>
+<p>At 10 o'clock the Monumental fire bell struck several deep-toned
+notes and fifteen minutes later eighty members of the Vigilance
+Committee had assembled. The door was locked. A constable from the
+police department knocked upon it long without avail. Everything
+was very still about the building; even the crowd which gathered
+there to await developments conversed in whispers.</p>
+<p>At midnight several cloaked forms emerged, walking rapidly up
+the street. Then the California fire engine bell began to toll.
+James King of William, a local banker, leaving Vigilante quarters
+almost collided with Broderick. "What does that mean?" the latter
+asked; he pointed to the tolling bell.</p>
+<p>"It means," King answered, solemnly, "that Jenkins is condemned
+to death. He'll be executed on the Plaza in an hour."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV</h2>
+<h3>THE HANGING OF JENKINS</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Mayor Brenham pushed his way forward. "Did I understand you
+rightly, Mr. King?" he questioned. "This committee means to lynch a
+man--to murder him?"</p>
+<p>King turned upon him fiery-eyed. "I might accuse you of a
+hundred murders, sir, with much more justice. Where are your police
+when our citizens are slain? What are your courts but strongholds
+of political iniquity?" He raised his arm and with a dramatic
+gesture, pointed toward the city hall. "Go, Mayor Brenham, rouse
+your jackals of pretended law.... The people have risen. At the
+Plaza in an hour you shall see what Justice means."</p>
+<p>Several voices cheered. Brenham, overwhelmed, inarticulate
+before this outburst, turned and strode away. Broderick walked on
+thoughtfully. It was evident that the people were aroused past
+curbing. As he neared the city hall, Constable Charles Elleard
+approached him anxiously.</p>
+<p>"There's going to be trouble, isn't there?" he asked. "What
+shall we do? We've less than a hundred men, Mr. Broderick. Perhaps
+we could get fifty more."</p>
+<p>"Whatever happens, don't use firearms," Broderick cautioned.
+"One shot will set the town afire tonight." He came closer to the
+officer and whispered, "Make a show of interference, that's all....
+If possible see that Sheriff Hayes' pistols don't go off.... You
+understand? I know what's best."</p>
+<p>Elleard nodded. Broderick went on. Soon he heard the tramp of
+many feet. A procession headed by men bearing torches, was
+proceeding down the street toward the Plaza. As they neared he saw
+Jenkins, hands tied behind his back, striding along in the midst of
+his captors. A rope was about his neck; it extended for a hundred
+feet behind him, upheld by many hands.</p>
+<p>Diagonally across the Plaza the procession streamed. At the
+flagstaff a halt was made. Samuel Brannan mounted a sand-heap and
+addressed the crowd.</p>
+<p>"I have been deputed by the Vigilance Committee," he began, "to
+tell you that John Jenkins has been fairly tried; he was proven
+guilty of grand larceny and other crimes." He paused dramatically.
+"The sentence of the People's Court is death through hanging by the
+neck. It will be executed here at once, with your approval. All who
+are in favor of the committee's action, will say 'Aye.'"</p>
+<p>"Aye! Aye!" came a thunder of voices, mingled with a few
+desultory "noes." Sheriff Jack Hayes rode up importantly on his
+prancing black charger. "In the name of the law I command this
+proceeding to cease."</p>
+<p>"In the name of what law?" mocked Brannan, "the law you've been
+giving us for six months past?"</p>
+<p>A roar of laughter greeted this retort. The sheriff, red-faced,
+held up a hand for silence. "I demand the prisoner," he
+shouted.</p>
+<p>Instantly there was a quiet order. Fifty men in soldierly
+formation surrounded Jenkins. "Take him, then," a voice said
+pleasantly. It was William Coleman's. The guards of the forward
+ranks threw back their cloaks, revealing a score of business-like
+short-barrelled shotguns.</p>
+<p>Before this show of force, the gallant Hayes retreated, baffled.
+He was a former Texan ranger, fearless to a fault; but he was wise
+enough to know when he was beaten.</p>
+<p>"I've orders not to shoot," he said, "but I warn you that all
+who participate in this man's hanging will be liable for
+murder."</p>
+<p>Again came Brannan's sneer. "If we're as safe as the last
+hundred men that took human life in this town, we've nothing to
+fear." Again a chorus of derision. The sheriff turned, outraged, on
+his tormentor. "You shall hear from me, sir," he said indignantly,
+and wheeling his horse, he rode off.</p>
+<p>"String him up on the flagpole," suggested a bystander. But this
+was cried down with indignation. Several members who had been
+investigating now advanced with the recommendation that the hanging
+take place at the south-end of the old Custom House.</p>
+<p>"We can throw the rope over a beam," cried a tall man. He was
+one of those who had pursued and caught Jenkins on the bay. Now he
+seized the rope and called, "Come on, boys."</p>
+<p>There was a rush toward the southwest corner of the Plaza, so
+sudden that the hapless prisoner was jerked off his feet and
+dragged over the ground. When the improvised gallows was reached he
+was half strangled, could not stand. Several men supported him
+while others tossed the rope across the beam. Then, with a shout,
+he was jerked from his feet into space. His dangling figure jerked
+convulsively for a time, hung limp.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>After the inquest Brannan met William Coleman at Vigilante
+headquarters. "They were very hostile," he declared; "the political
+gang is hot on our trail. They questioned me as to the names on our
+committee. I told them we went by numbers only," he laughed.</p>
+<p>"There have been threats, veiled and open," said Coleman,
+soberly. "King has lost several good banking accounts and my
+business has fallen off noticeably. Friends have advised me to quit
+the committee--or worse things might happen."</p>
+<p>Brannan took a folded paper from his pocket; it was a printed
+scrawl unsigned, which read:</p>
+<p>"Beware; or your house will be burned. We mean business."</p>
+<p>A newsboy hurried down the street crying an extra on the
+inquest. Brannan snatched one from his hand and the two men perused
+it eagerly. The finding, couched in usual verbiage, recited the
+obvious facts that Jenkins, alias Simpson, perished by
+strangulation and that "an association of citizens styling
+themselves a Committee of Vigilance," was responsible.</p>
+<p>"Eight of us are implicated, besides myself," said Brannan
+finally, "they'll start proceedings probably at once."</p>
+<p>"And they'll have the courts to back their dirty work," added
+Coleman, thoughtfully. "That will never do," his teeth shut with a
+little click. "I'm going to the <i>Herald</i> office."</p>
+<p>"What for?" asked Brannan, quickly.</p>
+<p>"To publish the full list of names," Coleman responded. "We're
+all in this together; no group must bear the brunt."</p>
+<p>"But," objected Brannan, "is that wise?"</p>
+<p>"Of course.... in union there is strength. These crooks will
+hesitate to fight two hundred leading citizens; if they know them
+all they can't pick out a few for persecution."</p>
+<p>"Well, I'll go along," said Brannan. "Eh, what's that? What's
+happened now?"</p>
+<p>The Monumental engine bell was tolling violently. Coleman
+listened. "Its not a fire," he declared, "it's the Vigilante
+signal. We'll wait here."</p>
+<p>A man came running toward them from the bay. "They've captured
+James Stuart," he shouted. "Bludgeoned a captain on his ship but
+the man's wife held on to him and yelled till rescue came."</p>
+<p>"But Stuart's in the Auburn jail, awaiting execution for the
+murder of the sheriff," Coleman said bewildered.</p>
+<p>"No," cried the man, "this is the real one. The other's Tom
+Berdue, his double."</p>
+<p>"Then there'll be another hanging," Coleman muttered.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV</h2>
+<h3>THE PEOPLE AND THE LAW</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Frightened, desperate, angered by the usurpation of their power,
+varied forces combined in opposition to the Vigilance Committee.
+Political office-holders, good and bad, were naturally arrayed
+against it, and for the first time made a common cause. Among the
+politicians were many men of brains, especially those affiliated
+with the "Chivalry" faction, as it was known--Southern men whose
+object it was to introduce slavery into California. These were
+fiery, fearless, eloquent and quick at stratagem. There was also
+Broderick's Tammany organization, an almost perfect political
+machine, though as yet in the formative stage. There was the tacit
+union of the underworld; gamblers, thieves, plug-uglies, servitors
+of or parasites upon the stronger factions. Each and all they
+feared and hated this new order of the Vigilantes.</p>
+<p>Coleman's scheme of publishing the names of the entire committee
+was carried out after a meeting of the executive committee. It had
+the effect of taking the wind out of their opponents' sails for a
+time. But it also robbed committee members of a certain security.
+In a dozen dark and devious ways the Vigilantes were harassed,
+opposed; windows of shops were broken; men returning to their homes
+were set upon from ambush; long-standing business accounts were
+diverted or withdrawn. Even socially the feud was felt. For the
+Southerners were more or less the arbiters of society. Wives of
+Vigilante members were struck from invitation lists in important
+affairs. Whispers came to them that if their husbands were
+persuaded to withdraw, all would be well.</p>
+<p>A few, indeed, did hand their resignations to the committee, but
+more set their names with eagerness upon its roster.</p>
+<p>The hanging of James Stuart was impressive and conducted with
+extreme decorum. Stuart, tried before twelve regularly impaneled
+talesmen and defended by an advocate, cut matters short by a
+voluntary confession of his crimes. In fact, he boasted of them
+with a curious pride. Arson, murder, robbery, he admitted with a
+lavishness which first aroused a doubt as to his sanity and truth,
+but when in many of the cases he recited details which were later
+verified, all doubt as to his evil triumphs vanished.</p>
+<p>On the morning of July 11 he was sentenced. In the afternoon his
+body swung from a waterfront derrick at Battery and Market
+streets.</p>
+<p>"Get it over with," he urged his executioners, "this 'ere's
+damned tiresome business for a gentleman." He begged a "quid o'
+terbacker" from one of the guards and chewed upon it stolidly until
+the noose tightened about his neck. He did not struggle much. A
+vagrant wind blew off his hat and gently stirred his long and wavy
+hair.</p>
+<p>When Benito next saw Broderick he asked the latter anxiously if
+all were well with him. The latter answered with a wry smile, "I
+suppose so. I have not been ordered to leave town so far."</p>
+<p>"You've remembered what we told you--Alice and I?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," said Broderick, "and it was good advice. Tell your wife
+for me that woman's intuition sometimes sees more clearly than
+man's cunning.... It is nearer God and truth," he added,
+softly.</p>
+<p>"I shall tell her that. 'Twill please her," Benito replied. "You
+must come to see us soon."</p>
+<p>Brannan joined them rather anxiously and drew Benito aside with
+a brusque apology. "Do you know that Governor McDougall has issued
+a proclamation condemning the Vigilance Committee?... I happen to
+know that Broderick inspired this." He gave a covert glance over
+his shoulder, but the Lieutenant-Governor had wandered off. "So far
+he's taken no part against us. And we've left him alone. Now we
+shall strike back."</p>
+<p>"I shall advise against it," Windham objected. "Dave is honest.
+He's played fair."</p>
+<p>"If you think we're going to let this pass, you're quite
+mistaken," Brannan answered, hotly. "Why, its not long ago that
+Governor McDougall came to our committee room and commended our
+work. Said he hoped we'd go on."</p>
+<p>"Exactly," said Benito, "in the presence of witnesses. Let us
+see if King and Coleman are inside. I have a plan."</p>
+<p>They found their tall and quiet leader with James King of
+William and half a dozen others already in session. Brannan, in
+fiery anger, read the Governor's proclamation. There was silence
+when he finished. Possibly a shade of consternation. "Windham's got
+a scheme to answer him," said Brannan.</p>
+<p>That day the <i>Evening Picayune</i> printed the Committee's
+defn. It was as follows:</p>
+<br>
+<blockquote>San Francisco, Aug. 20, 1851.<br>
+<br>
+"We, the undersigned, do hereby aver that Governor McDougall asked
+to be introduced to the executive committee of the Committee of
+Vigilance, which was allowed and hour fixed. The Governor, upon
+being introduced, states THAT HE APPROVED OF THE ACTS OF THE
+COMMITTEE and that much good had taken place. He HOPED THEY WOULD
+GO ON and endeavor to act in concert with the authorities, AND IN
+CASE ANY JUDGE WAS GUILTY OF MAL-ADMINISTRATION TO HANG HIM and he
+would appoint others."</blockquote>
+<br>
+<p>To this was appended the names of reputable citizens--men whose
+statements no one doubted. It was generally conceded, with a laugh,
+that Governor McDougall's private opinion differed from his sense
+of public duty.</p>
+<p>That afternoon representatives of the Committee met an incoming
+vessel and examined the credentials of all passengers. Several of
+these not proving up to standard, they were denied admittance to
+the port. The outraged captain blustered and refused to take them
+back to Sydney. But in the end he agreed. There was nothing else to
+do. A guard was placed on the non-desirables and maintained until
+the vessel cleared--until the pilot boat returned in fact. San
+Francisco applauded.</p>
+<p>But all the laurels were not with the Committee. On Thursday
+morning, August 21, Sheriff Hayes surprised Vigilante Headquarters
+at dawn and captured Samuel Whitaker and Robert McKenzie both
+convicted of murder by the Committee and sentenced to hang.</p>
+<p>The City Government was much elated but the victory was short.
+For, on the following Sunday, Vigilantes gained an entrance to the
+jail and took their prisoners back without a struggle.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Broderick and Windham, en route to the latter's ranch that
+afternoon, heard the Monumental bell toll slowly, solemnly. "What's
+up?" asked Broderick, startled.</p>
+<p>"It means," Benito answered, "that the Vigilance Committee still
+rules. Two more scoundrels have been punished."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI</h2>
+<h3>FEVERS OF FINANCE</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Four years had passed since the Vigilance Committee ceased
+active labors. Some said they preserved a tacit organization;
+theirs was still a name to conjure with among evil doers, but San
+Francisco, grown into a city of some 50,000, was more dignified and
+subtle in its wickedness. Politics continued notoriously bad.
+Comedians in the new Metropolitan Theatre made jokes about
+ballot-boxes said to have false bottoms, and public officials who
+had taken their degrees in "political economy" at Sing Sing.</p>
+<p>"Honest Harry" Meiggs and his brother, the newly-elected City
+Controller, had sailed away on the yacht "American," leaving behind
+them an unpaid-for 2000-foot wharf and close to a million in debts;
+forged city warrants and promissory notes were held by practically
+every large business house in San Francisco.</p>
+<p>It was concerning this urbane and gifted prince of swindlers
+that Adrian Stanley talked with William Sherman, manager of the
+banking house of Turner, Lucas &amp; Company.</p>
+<p>Sherman, once a lieutenant in the United States Army, had
+returned, after an Eastern trip, as a civilian financier. In behalf
+of St. Louis employers, he had purchased of James Lick a lot at
+Jackson and Montgomery streets, erecting thereon a $50,000
+fire-proof building. The bank occupied the lower floor; a number of
+professional men had their offices on the second floor; on the
+third James P. Casey, Supervisor, journalist and politician,
+maintained the offices of <i>The Sunday Times</i>. He passed the
+two men as they stood in front of the bank and shouted a boisterous
+"hello." Adrian, ever courteous and good-natured, responded with a
+wave of the hand while Sherman, brusk and curt, as a habit of
+nature and military training, vouchsafed him a short nod.</p>
+<p>"I have small use for that fellow," he remarked to Stanley,
+"even less than I had for Meiggs." The other had something
+impressive about him, something almost Napoleonic, in spite of his
+dishonesty. If business had maintained the upward trend of '51 and
+'52, Meiggs would have been a millionaire and people would have
+honored him--"</p>
+<p>"You never trusted 'Honest Harry,' did you?" Stanley asked.</p>
+<p>"No," said Sherman, "not for the amount he asked. I was the only
+banker here that didn't break his neck to give the fellow credit. I
+rather liked him, though. But this fellow upstairs," he snapped his
+fingers, "some day I shall order him out of my building."</p>
+<p>"Why?" asked Adrian curiously. "Because of his--"</p>
+<p>"His alleged prison record?" Sherman finished. "No. For many a
+good man's served his term." He shrugged. "I can't just tell you
+why I feel like that toward Jim Casey. He's no worse than the rest
+of his clan; the city government's rotten straight through except
+for a few honest judges and they're helpless before the quibbles
+and intricacies of law." He took the long black cigar from his
+mouth and regarded Adrian with his curious concentration--that
+force of purpose which was one day to list William Tecumseh Sherman
+among the world's great generals. "There's going to be the devil to
+pay, my young friend," he said, frowning, "between corruption,
+sectional feuds and business depression ..."</p>
+<p>"What about the report that Page, Bacon &amp; Company's St.
+Louis house has failed?" said Stanley in an undertone. Sherman eyed
+him sharply. "Where'd you hear that?" he shot back. And then, ere
+Adrian could answer, he inquired, "Have you much on deposit
+there?"</p>
+<p>"Ten thousand," replied the young contractor.</p>
+<p>For a moment Sherman remained silent, twisting the long cigar
+about between grim lips. Then he put a hand abruptly on the other's
+shoulder. "Take it out," he said, "today."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Somewhat later Sherman was summoned to a conference with Henry
+Haight, manager of the banking house in question, and young Page of
+the Sacramento branch. He emerged with a clouded brow, puffing
+furiously at his cigar. As he passed through the bank, Sherman
+noted an unusual line of men, interspersed with an occasional
+woman, waiting their turn for the paying teller's service. The man
+was counting out gold and silver feverishly. There was whispering
+among the file of waiters. To him the thing had an ominous
+look.</p>
+<p>He stopped for a moment at the bank of Adams &amp; Company.
+There also the number of people withdrawing deposits was unusual;
+the receiving teller's window was neglected. James King of William,
+who, since the closing of his own bank, had been Adams &amp;
+Company's manager, came forward and drew Sherman aside. "What do
+you think of the prospect?" he asked. "Few of us can stand a run.
+We're perfectly solvent, but if this excitement spreads it means
+ruin for the house--for every bank in town perhaps."</p>
+<p>"Haight's drunk," said Sherman tersely. "Page is silly with
+fear. I went over to help them ... but it's no use. They're
+gone."</p>
+<p>King's bearded face was pale, but his eyes were steady. "I'm
+sorry," he said, "that makes it harder for us all." He smiled
+mirthlessly. "You're better off than we ... with our country
+branches. If anything goes wrong here, our agents will be blamed.
+There may be bloodshed even." He held out his hand and Sherman
+gripped it. "Good luck," the latter said, "we'll stand together,
+far as possible."</p>
+<p>As Sherman left the second counting house, he noted how the line
+had grown before the paying teller's window. It extended now
+outside the door. At Palmer, Cook &amp; Company's and Naglee's
+banks it was the same. The human queue, which issued from the doors
+of Page, Bacon &amp; Company, now reached around the corner. It was
+growing turbulent. Women tried to force themselves between the
+close-packed file and were repelled. One of these was Sherman's
+washwoman. She clutched his coat-tails as he hurried by.</p>
+<p>"My God, sir!" she wailed, "they've my money; the savings of
+years. And now they say it's gone ... that Haight's gambled ...
+spent it on women ..."</p>
+<p>Sherman tried to quiet her and was beset by others. "How's your
+bank?" people shouted at him. "How's Lucas-Turner?"</p>
+<p>"Sound as a dollar," he told them; "come and get your money when
+you please; it's there waiting for you."</p>
+<p>But his heart was heavy with foreboding as he entered his own
+bank. Here the line was somewhat shorter than at most of the
+others, but still sufficiently long to cause dismay. Sherman passed
+behind the counter and conferred with his assistant.</p>
+<p>"We close in half an hour--at three o'clock," he said. "That
+will give us a breathing spell. Tomorrow comes the test. By then
+the town will know of Page-Bacon's failure ..."</p>
+<p>He beckoned to the head accountant, who came hurriedly, a quill
+pen bobbing behind his ear, his tall figure bent from stooping over
+ledgers.</p>
+<p>"How much will we require to withstand a day's run?" Sherman
+flung the question at him like a thunderbolt. And almost as though
+the impact of some verbal missile had deprived him of speech, the
+man stopped, stammering.</p>
+<p>"I--I--I think, s-s-sir," he gulped and recovered himself with
+an effort, "f-forty thousand will do it."</p>
+<p>Swiftly Sherman turned toward the door. "Where are you going?"
+the assistant called.</p>
+<p>"To get forty thousand dollars--if I have to turn highwayman,"
+Sherman flung over his shoulder.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII</h2>
+<h3>"GIVE US OUR SAVINGS!"</h3>
+<br>
+<p>As he left the bank Sherman cast over in his mind with desperate
+swiftness the list of men to whom he could go for financial
+support. Turner, Lucas &amp; Co. had loaned Captain Folsom $25,000
+on his two late ventures, the Metropolitan Theatre and the Tehama
+House. Both, under normal conditions, would have made their
+promoter rich. But nothing was at par these days.</p>
+<p>Sherman wondered uneasily whether Folsom could help. He was not
+a man to save money, and the banker, who made it his business to
+know what borrowers of the bank's money did, knew that Folsom liked
+gambling, frequented places where the stakes ran high. Of late he
+had met heavy losses. However, he was a big man, Sherman reasoned;
+he should have large resources. Both of them were former army
+officers. That should prove a bond between them. At Captain
+Folsom's house an old negro servant opened the door, his wrinkled
+black face anxious.</p>
+<p>"Mars Joe, he ain't right well dis evenin'," he said, evasively,
+but when Sherman persisted he was ushered into a back room where
+sat the redoubtable captain, all the fierceness of his burnside
+whiskers, the austerity of his West Point manner, melted in the
+indignity of sneezes and wheezes.</p>
+<p>Sherman looked at him in frank dismay.</p>
+<p>"Heavens, man," he said, "I'm sorry to intrude on you in this
+condition ... but my errand won't wait...."</p>
+<p>"What do you want, Bill Sherman?" the sick man glowered.</p>
+<p>"Money," Sherman answered crisply. "You know, perhaps, that
+Page, Bacon &amp; Co. have failed. Everyone's afraid of his
+deposits. We've got to have cash tomorrow. How about your--?"</p>
+<p>With a cry of irritation Folsom threw up his hands. "Money! God
+Almighty! Sherman, there's not a loose dollar in town. My agent,
+Van Winkle, has walked his legs off, talked himself hoarse.... He
+can't get anything. It's impossible."</p>
+<p>"Then you can do nothing?"</p>
+<p>For answer Folsom broke into a torrent of sneezes and coughs.
+The old negro came running. Sherman shook his head and left the
+room.</p>
+<p>There remained Major Hammond, collector of the port, two of
+whose notes the bank held.</p>
+<p>He and Sherman were not over-friendly; yet Hammond must be
+asked. Sherman made his way to the customs house briskly, stated
+his business to the doorkeeper and sat down in an anteroom to await
+Hammond's pleasure. There he cooled his heels for a considerable
+period before he was summoned to an inner office.</p>
+<p>"Well, Sherman," he asked, not ungraciously, "what can I do for
+you?"</p>
+<p>"You can take up one of your notes with our bank," replied
+Sherman, without ado. "We need cash desperately."</p>
+<p>"'Fraid of a run, eh?"</p>
+<p>"Not afraid, no. But preparing for it."</p>
+<p>The other nodded his approval. "Quite right! quite right!" he
+said with unexpected warmth.... "So you'd like me to cash one of my
+notes, Mr. Sherman?"</p>
+<p>"Why, yes, sir, if it wouldn't inconvenience you," the banker
+answered, "it would aid us greatly." He looked into the collector's
+keen, inquiring eyes, then added: "I may as well say quite frankly,
+Mr. Hammond, you're our last resort."</p>
+<p>"Then why"--the other's smile was whimsical--"then why not both
+of my notes?"</p>
+<br>
+<a name="page182.jpg"></a>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/page182.jpg" width="85%" alt=
+""><br>
+<b>There sat the redoubtable captain, all the ... austerity of his
+West Point manner melted in the indignity of sneezes and
+wheezes.... "Money! God Almighty! Sherman, there's not a loose
+dollar in town."</b></p>
+<br>
+<p>"Do you mean it?" Sherman asked breathlessly.</p>
+<p>By way of answer Hammond drew a book of printed forms toward
+him. Calmly, leisurely, he wrote several lines; tore a long, narrow
+strip from the book and handed it to Sherman.</p>
+<p>"Here's my check for $40,000 on the United States Treasurer. He
+will cash it in gold. Never mind, don't thank me, this is purely
+business. I know what's up, young man. I can't see your people go
+under. Good day!"</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Ten o'clock on the following morning. Hundreds of people lined
+up before the doors of San Francisco banks. Men of all classes;
+top-hatted merchants rubbed elbows with red-shirted miners, Irish
+laborers smoking clay pipes, Mexican vaqueros, roustabouts from the
+docks, gamblers, bartenders, lawyers, doctors, politicians. Here
+and there one saw women with children in their arms or holding them
+by the hand. They pressed shoulder to shoulder. Those at the head
+had their noses almost against the glass. Inside of the counting
+houses men with pale, harried faces stood behind their grilled iron
+wickets, wondering how long the pile of silver and gold within
+their reach would stay that clamorous human tide. Doors swung back
+and it swept in, a great wave, almost overturning the janitors.</p>
+<p>The cashier and assistant manager of Lucas &amp; Co. watched
+nervously, the former now and then running his fingers through his
+sparse hair; the assistant manager at intervals retired to a back
+room where he consulted a decanter and a tall glass. Frequently he
+summoned the bookkeeper. "How's the money lasting?" he would
+inquire almost in a whisper, and the other answered, "Still holding
+out."</p>
+<p>But now the assistant manager saw that the cash on hand was
+almost exhausted. He was afraid to ask the bookkeeper any more
+questions.</p>
+<p>"Where the devil's Sherman?" he snapped at the cashier. That
+official started. "Why--er--how should I know?... He was hunting
+Major Snyder this morning. He had a check from Hammond, the
+collector of the port."</p>
+<p>"Damnation!" cried the assistant manager. "Sherman ought to be
+here. He ought to talk to these people. They think he's
+skipped."</p>
+<p>He broke off hurriedly as the assistant teller came up
+trembling. "We'll have to close in ten minutes," he said. "There's
+less than $500 left." His mouth twitched. "I don't know what we'll
+do, sir, when the time comes ... and God only knows what they'll
+do."</p>
+<p>"Good God! what's that?"</p>
+<p>Some new commotion was apparent at the entrance of the bank. The
+assistant teller grasped his pistol. The line of waiting men and
+women turned, for the moment forgetting their quest. William
+Sherman, attended by two armed constables, entered the door.
+Between them the trio carried two large canvas bags, each bearing
+the imprint of the United States Treasury.</p>
+<p>Sherman halted just inside the door.</p>
+<p>"Forty thousand in gold, boys," he cried, "and plenty more where
+it came from. Turner, Lucas &amp; Co. honors every draft."</p>
+<p>His face pressed eagerly against the lattice of the paying
+teller's cage stood a little Frenchman. His hat had fallen from his
+pomaded hair; his waxed moustache bristled.</p>
+<p>"Do you mean you have ze monnaie? All ze monnaie zat we wish?"
+he asked gesticulating excitedly with his hands.</p>
+<p>"Sure," returned the teller. Sherman and his aids were carrying
+the two sacks into the back of the cage, depositing them on a
+marble shelf. "See!" The teller turned one over and a tinkling
+flood of shining golden disks poured forth.</p>
+<p>"Ah, bon! bon!" shrieked the little Frenchman, dancing up and
+down upon his high-heeled boots. "If you have ze monnaie, zen I do
+not want heem." He broke out of the line, happily humming a
+chanson. Half a dozen people laughed.</p>
+<p>"That's what I say," shouted other voices. "We don't want our
+money if it's safe."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII</h2>
+<h3>KING STARTS THE BULLETIN</h3>
+<br>
+<p>After several months of business convalescence, San Francisco
+found itself recovered from the financial chaos of February. Many
+well-known men and institutions had not stood the ordeal; some went
+down the pathway of dishonor to an irretrievable inconsequence and
+destitution; others profited by their misfortunes and still others,
+with the dauntless spirit of the time, turned halted energies or
+aspirations to fresh account. Among them was James King of
+William.</p>
+<p>The name of his father, William King, was, by an odd necessity,
+perpetuated with his own. There were many James Kings and to avert
+confusion of identities the paternal cognomen was added.</p>
+<p>In the Bank Exchange saloon, where the city's powers in
+commerce, journalism and finance were wont to congregate, King met,
+on a rainy autumn afternoon, R.D. Sinton and Jim Nesbitt. They
+hailed him jovially. Seated in the corner of an anteroom they drank
+to one another's health and listened to the raindrops pattering
+against a window.</p>
+<p>"Well, how is the auction business, Bob?" asked King.</p>
+<p>"Not so bad," the junior partner of Selover and Sinton answered.
+"Better probably than the newspaper or banking line.... Here's poor
+Jim, the keenest paragrapher in San Francisco, out of work since
+the <i>Chronicle's</i> gone to the wall. And here you are, cleaned
+out by Adams &amp; Company's careless or dishonest work--I don't
+know which."</p>
+<p>"Let's not discuss it," King said broodingly. "You know they
+wouldn't let me supervise the distribution of the money. And you
+know what my demand for an accounting brought ..."</p>
+<p>"Abuse and slander from that boughten sheet, the Alta--yes,"
+retorted Sinton. "Well, you have the consolation of knowing that no
+honest man believes it."</p>
+<p>King was silent for a moment. Then his clenched hand fell upon
+the table. "By the Eternal!" he exclaimed, with a sudden upthrust
+of the chin. "This town must have a decent paper. Do you know that
+there are seven murderers in our jail? No one will convict them and
+no editor has the courage to expose our rotten politics." He
+glanced quickly from one to the other. "Are you with me, boys? Will
+you help me to start a journal that will run our crooked officials
+and their hired plug-uglies out of town?... Sinton, last week you
+asked my advice about a good investment ... Nesbitt, you're looking
+for a berth. Well, here's an answer to you both. Let's start a
+paper--call it, say, the Evening Bulletin."</p>
+<p>Nesbitt's eyes glowed. "By the Lord Harry! it's an inspiration,
+King," he said and beckoned to a waiter to refill their glasses. "I
+know enough about our State and city politics to make a lot of
+well-known citizens hunt cover--"</p>
+<p>Sinton smiled at the journalist's ardor. "D'ye mean it, James?"
+he asked. "Every word," replied the banker. "But I can't help much
+financially," he added. "My creditors got everything."</p>
+<p>"You mean the King's treasury is empty," said Sinton, laughing
+at his pun. "Well, well, we might make it go, boys. I'm not a
+millionaire, but never mind. How much would it take?"</p>
+<p>Nesbitt answered with swift eagerness. "I know a print shop we
+can buy for a song; it's on Merchant street near Montgomery. Small
+but comfortable, and just the thing. $500 down would start us."</p>
+<p>Sinton pulled at his chin a moment. "Go ahead then," he urged.
+"I'll loan you the money."</p>
+<p>King's hand shot out to grasp the auctioneer's. "There ought to
+be 10,000 decent citizens in San Francisco who'll give us their
+support. Let's go and see the owner of that print-shop now."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>On the afternoon of October 5th, 1885, a tiny four-page paper
+made its first appearance on the streets of San Francisco.</p>
+<p>The first page, with its queer jumble of news and
+advertisements, had a novel and attractive appearance quite apart
+from the usual standards of typographical make-up. People laughed
+at King's naive editorial apology for entering an overcrowded and
+none-too-prosperous field; they nodded approvingly over his promise
+to tell the truth with fearless impartiality.</p>
+<p>William Coleman was among the first day's visitors.</p>
+<p>"Good luck to you, James King of William," he held forth a
+friendly hand. The editor, turning, rose and grasped it with
+sincere cordiality. They stood regarding each other silently. It
+seemed almost as though a prescience of what was to come lay in
+that curious communion of heart and mind.</p>
+<p>"Going after the crooks, I understand," said Coleman
+finally.</p>
+<p>"Big and little," King retorted. "That's all the paper's for. I
+don't expect to make money."</p>
+<p>"How about the Southerners, the Chivalry party? They'll
+challenge you to duels daily."</p>
+<p>"Damn the 'Chivs'." King answered. "I shall ignore their
+challenges. This duelling habit is absurd. It's grandstand
+politics; opera bouffe. They even advertise their meetings and the
+boatmen run excursions to some point where two idiots shoot wildly
+at each other for some fancied slight. No, Coleman, I'm not that
+particular kind of a fool."</p>
+<p>"Well, you'd better carry a derringer," the other warned. "There
+are Broderick's plug-uglies. They won't wait to send a
+challenge."</p>
+<p>King gave him an odd look. "I have feeling that one cannot
+change his destiny," he said. "If I am to be killed--then so be it
+... Kismet, as the Orientals say. But meanwhile I'll fight
+corruption. I'll call men by name and shout their sins from the
+housetops. We'll wake up the town, or my name isn't James King of
+William.... Won't we, James?" He clapped a hand on Nesbitt's
+shoulder. The other turned half irritably. "What? Oh, yes. To be
+sure," he answered and resumed his writing. Charles Gerberding, who
+held the title of publisher in the new enterprise, looked up from
+his ledger. "If this keeps up," he said, smiling and rubbing his
+hands, "we can enlarge the paper in a month or so." He shut the
+volume with a slam and lighted a cigar.</p>
+<p>"Hello, Coleman, how are the Vigilants? I'm told you still
+preserve a tacit organization."</p>
+<p>"More of the spirit than substance," said Coleman smiling. "I
+hope we'll not need to revive it."</p>
+<p>"Not so sure," responded Gerberding. "This man here," the cigar
+was waved in King's direction, "this editor of ours is going to set
+the town afire."</p>
+<p>Coleman did not answer. He went out ... wondering whether Isaac
+Bluxome was in town. Bluxome had served as secretary for the
+Vigilance Committee of '51.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX</h2>
+<h3>RICHARDSON AND CORA</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Business went on with at least a surface calm of new stability.
+Politics brought forth occasional eruptions, mostly twixt the
+Abolitionists and Slavery parties. Each claimed California.
+Broderick more than ever held the reins of state and city
+government. But the latter proved a fractious steed. For all his
+dauntless vigor and political astuteness, Destiny as yet withheld
+from Broderick the coveted United States senatorship. At best he
+had achieved an impasse, a dog-in-the-manger victory. By preventing
+the election of a rival he had gained little and incurred much
+censure for depriving the State of national representation. Benito
+and Alice tried to rouse him from a fit of moodiness as he dined
+with them one evening in November. Lately he had made a frequent,
+always-welcome third at their evening meal.</p>
+<p>"Cheer up, Dave," Benito rallied, as he raised a glass of wine.
+"We'll be reading your speeches in the Washington reports before
+many years have gone by. Come," he said to his wife, "let's drink
+to the future of 'The Gentleman from California.'"</p>
+<p>Broderick smiled; his glass clinked against those of his two
+companions. He gazed a moment musingly at both; then quaffed his
+liquor with a touch of haste.</p>
+<p>Alice Windham's eyes were troubled. "David," she was hesitant,
+yet earnest. "It is really necessary to associate with people such
+as--well, you know ... James Casey, Billy Mulligan, McGowan?"</p>
+<p>He answered her with a vehemence close to anger. "Politicians
+cannot choose their weapons. They must fight fire with fire ... or
+lose." For a moment the talk lagged. Then Benito, with his
+sprightly gossip, sent it rolling on. "Sherman has turned Jim Casey
+and his <i>Sunday Times</i> out of the Turner-Lucas building ...
+for attacking the banks."</p>
+<p>"He threatened to, some time ago," said Broderick.... "How goes
+it with your law, Benito?"</p>
+<p>"Well enough," said Windham, as his wife rose. She left them to
+attend the child, which had awakened. Broderick stared after her, a
+brooding hunger in his eyes. Presently, he, too, arose, and despite
+Benito's urging, departed.</p>
+<p>It was dusk when he reached the Blue Wing saloon, where "Judge"
+McGowan awaited him. A burly, forceful man, with bushy eyebrows, a
+walrus moustache perpetually tobacco-stained, and an air of
+ruthless command. "Where've you been?" he asked, impatiently, but
+did not wait for an answer. "Casey's in trouble again."</p>
+<p>"What's the matter now?" asked Broderick with a swift, half
+anxious uplift of the chin.</p>
+<p>"Oh, not his fault exactly," said the other. "Five of Gwin's men
+attacked him. Tried to kill him probably. But Jim's a tough lad. He
+laid one out, took his pistol and shot another. The rest vamoosed.
+Jim's in jail ... for disturbing the peace," he added, chuckling
+grimly.</p>
+<p>"Well, Billy Mulligan will let him out," responded Broderick.
+"If not, see Scannell. Do you need bail?" He reached into his
+pocket and took out a roll of banknotes. "You'll attend to it,
+Ned?" he asked hurriedly.</p>
+<p>"Yes, yes," returned the tall man. "That's all right.... I wish
+it hadn't happened, though. We're none too strong ... with seven
+murderers in the jail.... They'll bring up Casey's prison record at
+the examination. See if they don't."</p>
+<p>Broderick turned away.</p>
+<p>At the bar he greeted "General" Billy Richardson, deputy United
+States Marshal. They had a drink together.</p>
+<p>"James King of William's crusading with The Bulletin," said
+Richardson, "he threatens to run all the crooks out of town. It's
+making a good deal of talk."</p>
+<p>"But King's not a newspaper man," retorted Broderick, puzzled.
+"He's a banker. How's he going to run a journal? That takes
+money--experience."</p>
+<p>"Quien sabe?" Richardson vouchsafed. "Sinton of Selover and
+Sinton's his financial backer. Jim Nesbitt helps with the writing.
+You know Nesbitt, don't you? Slings a wicked pen. But King writes
+his own editorials I'm told. He's got a big job on his
+hands--cleaning up San Francisco.... You ought to know, Dave
+Broderick," he laughed meaningly. "Here's to him, anyhow."</p>
+<p>"Don't know if I should drink to that or not," Broderick
+ruminated, smiling. "May get after me. I'll take a chance, though.
+King's straight. I can always get on with a straight man." He
+raised his glass.</p>
+<p>A friend of Richardson's came up. Broderick did not know him,
+but he recognized at his side the well-groomed figure of Charles
+Cora, gambler and dandy. "Wancha t'meet Charley," said the
+introducer, unsteadily, to Richardson. "Bes' li'l man ever lived."
+Richardson held out his hand a bit reluctantly. Cora's sort were
+somewhat declass&eacute;. "Have a drink?" he invited.</p>
+<p>Broderick left them together. Later he saw Richardson quit the
+gambler's presence abruptly. The other took a few steps after him,
+then fell back with a shrug. Broderick heard the deputy-marshal
+mutter: "Too damned fresh; positively insulting," but he thought
+little of it. Richardson was apt to grow choleric while drinking.
+He often fancied himself insulted, but usually forgot it quickly.
+So Broderick merely smiled.</p>
+<p>On the following day he chanced again upon Richardson, who, to
+Broderick's astonishment, still brooded over Cora's "impudent
+remark." He did not seem to know just what it was, but the
+offensive flavor of it lingered.</p>
+<p>"Wonder where he is?" he kept repeating. "Deserves to be
+thrashed. Confound his impertinence. May do it yet."</p>
+<p>He was drinking. Broderick glanced apprehensively about. The
+gambler's sleek form was not in evidence. McGowan came in with
+Casey and Mulligan. Casey, too, had been drinking. He was in an
+evil humor, his usually jovial face sullen and vengeful.</p>
+<p>"Damn the newspapers," he exploded. "They've printed the Sing
+Sing yarn on me again. It was brought out at the arraignment."</p>
+<p>"Confound it, Broderick, haven't you any influence at all? Can't
+you keep such stuff out of type?"</p>
+<p>"Sometimes--if I know about it in advance. I'm sorry, Jim."</p>
+<p>"They tell me King of William's going to print it in the
+<i>Bulletin</i>. Better see him."</p>
+<p>"No use," put in McGowan, "that fellow's so straight (he sneered
+the word) that he leans over backward. Somebody'll fix him though
+... you'll see." The trio wandered off to Broderick's relief,
+making their exit just as Cora entered the door. The gambler
+approached Richardson. They had a drink together, some rather loud,
+conversation. Broderick feared it would develop into a quarrel, but
+evidently they patched a truce between them, for soon they went out
+arm in arm.</p>
+<p>His thought turned to Alice Windham. In a kind of reverie he
+left the Blue Wing, walking without sense of direction. It was
+getting dark; a chilling touch of fog was in the air--almost, it
+seemed to Broderick, like a premonition. On Clay, near Montgomery,
+he passed two men standing in a doorway; it was too dark to see
+their faces. Some impulse bade him stop, but he repressed it. Later
+he heard a shot, men running. But his mood was not for street
+brawls. He went on.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XL"></a>CHAPTER XL</h2>
+<h3>THE STORM GATHERS</h3>
+<br>
+<p>It was Nesbitt who told Broderick of the murder. Nesbitt, of
+whom Richardson had said the night before, "he slings a wicked
+pen."</p>
+<p>"My God, Jim, this is awful!" Broderick exclaimed. "You're sure
+there's no mistake ... I saw the two of them go out arm in
+arm."</p>
+<p>"Mistake! I wish it were," cried Nesbitt angrily. "No, poor
+Billy Richardson is dead. Cora's in jail.... They say Cora laughed
+when he went to prison with Scannell.... Scannell and Mulligan!" He
+spat out the words with a savage distaste.</p>
+<p>"Let me show you something, Dave. A reporter from the New York
+<i>Express</i> was out here gathering data--crime statistics for
+the year. He showed it to me. Listen to this: Four hundred and
+eighty-nine murders in California during ten months. Six executions
+by sheriffs, forty-six hanged by mobs; that makes fifty-two in
+all."</p>
+<p>He tapped the paper with his lean forefinger. "Probably two
+hundred of these killings were local.... And in the entire history
+of this city there's been exactly one legal execution. That was in
+1852."</p>
+<p>Broderick shook his head. "What are you going to do with that
+stuff?" asked Broderick.</p>
+<p>"Publish it in the <i>Bulletin</i>," returned Nesbitt
+decisively. "We're going to stir things up."</p>
+<p>They walked along together, Broderick's head bent in thought.
+Everywhere people were discussing the evening's tragedy. More than
+once "Judge Lynch's" name was mentioned threateningly.</p>
+<p>About the jail men swarmed, coming and going in an excited human
+tide. Some brandished fists at the unresponsive brick walls or
+called threats against Cora. As Broderick and Nesbitt passed the
+door, a handsome and richly clad woman emerged. Trickling tears had
+devastated the cosmetic smoothness of her cheeks. Her eyes looked
+frantic. But she proceeded calmly, almost haughtily to a waiting
+carriage. The driver whipped his horses and the equipage rolled on
+through a scattering crowd, some of whom shouted epithets after
+it.</p>
+<p>"That was Belle Cora, who keeps that bawdy house up town,"
+Nesbitt volunteered.</p>
+<p>"Yes," said Broderick musingly, "she seemes to take it
+hard."</p>
+<p>"She's mad about the fellow," Nesbitt waved a parting salutation
+and walked toward the Bulletin office.</p>
+<p>Broderick turned homeward, thinking of the two dark figures he
+had passed on Clay street where the killing had taken place.
+Perchance if he had stopped as he was minded, the tragedy might
+have been averted. Nobody seemed to know just how it came about.
+The thing was most unfortunate politically. King would stir up a
+hornet's nest of public opinion. Broderick reached his lodgings and
+at once retired. His sleep was fitful. He dreamed that Alice
+Windham and Sheriff Scannell were fighting for his soul.</p>
+<p>In the morning he met Benito on the plaza and the two
+encountered Colonel E.D. Baker.</p>
+<p>"I hear you're Cora's counsel," said Benito with a touch of
+disapproval.</p>
+<p>Baker looked at the young man over his spectacles. He was a big
+impressive man whose appearance as well as his words swayed juries.
+He commanded large fees. It was to Broderick rather than Benito
+that he made reply.</p>
+<p>"That Belle woman--she calls herself Mrs. Cora--came to me last
+night. By the Lord, she melted my heart. She got down on her knees.
+How she loves that gambler!... Well, I promised to defend him,
+confound it." He passed on shaking his head.</p>
+<p>"Didn't mention what his fee was," Broderick spoke
+cynically.</p>
+<p>"I'm informed he tried to give it back to her this morning,"
+said Benito. "But she wouldn't take it. Made a scene and held him
+to his honor." He laughed.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Cora's trial dragged itself into the following January on the
+slow feet of countless technicalities. Every legal subterfuge was
+exhausted by the quartet of talented and high-priced attorneys
+provided by Belle Cora's questionable fortune but unquestioned
+affection. The trial proved a feast of oratory, a mass of
+contradictory evidence. Before it began a juror named Jacob Mayer
+accused L. Sokalasky with offering him a bribe. Sokalasky, brought
+into court, denied the charge. And there it ended, save that
+thenceforth the "twelve good men and true" were exiled even from
+their families by the order of Judge Hagar. None the less it seemed
+quite evident as a morning paper cynically remarked, that the
+stable had been locked after the horses were stolen.</p>
+<p>On January 17 the Cora jury announced its inability to agree.
+The trial ended minus a conviction.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Ned McGowan, James P. Casey, Sheriff Scannell and his aid, Billy
+Mulligan, had frequent conferences in the offices of Casey's
+<i>Sunday Times</i>. Broderick held more or less aloof from his
+political subordinates these troublous days. But Charley Duane,
+former chief engineer of the fire department, was their frequent
+consort. The <i>Sunday Times</i> concentrated its fire chiefly on
+James King of William. It was his biting, unstudied verbiage that
+struck "The Federal Brigade" on the raw.</p>
+<p>Early in May the <i>Times</i> accused Thomas King, the
+<i>Bulletin</i> editor's brother, of scheming by illegal means to
+gain the office that Richardson's death had left vacant.</p>
+<p>To this imputation, the <i>Bulletin</i> made a sharp reply.
+Among other items calculated to enrage his foe appeared the
+following:</p>
+<blockquote>"The fact that Casey has been an inmate of Sing Sing
+prison in New York is no offense against the laws of this State;
+nor is the fact of his having stuffed himself through the ballot
+box, as elected to the Board of Supervisors from a district where
+it is said he was not even a candidate, any justification why Mr.
+Bagley should shoot Casey, however richly he may deserve having his
+neck stretched for such fraud upon the people...."</blockquote>
+<br>
+<p>There was more, but this was all that Casey read. He tore the
+paper into shreds and stamped upon it, inarticulate with fury. When
+at last he found his tongue a flood of obscenities flowed. He drew
+a pistol from his pocket; brandishing the weapon, he reached for
+the door knob. But Doane, who had brought the paper, caught his
+arm.</p>
+<p>"Don't be a fool. Put that pistol away," he warned. "The
+public's crazy-mad about the Cora verdict. They won't stand for
+shooting King."</p>
+<p>"Listen," said McGowan, craftily, "go up there and protest like
+a gentleman. Try to make the ---- insult you in the presence of a
+witness.... Afterward--we'll see."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLI"></a>CHAPTER XLI</h2>
+<h3>THE FATEFUL ENCOUNTER</h3>
+<br>
+<p>James King of William sat with his back toward the door when
+Casey, still a-quiver with rage but endeavoring to control himself,
+entered the Bulletin office. He stumbled over the doorsill.</p>
+<p>King turned. When he saw who the intruder was, he laid down a
+handful of proofs and rose. Casey glared at him.</p>
+<p>"What do you mean," cried the politician, trying to speak
+calmly, "by publishing that article about me in the Bulletin?"</p>
+<p>King transfixed him with accusing eyes. "About the ballot-box
+stuffing ... or your Sing Sing record, Casey?" he inquired.</p>
+<p>"You--you know well enough," blustered Casey. "It's an outrage
+to rake up a man's past.... A fellow's sensitive about such
+things."</p>
+<p>He shook a fist at King. "If necessary, I'll defend myself."</p>
+<p>"Very well," responded King. "That's your prerogative. You've a
+paper of your own.... And now get out of here," he added curtly.
+"Never show your face inside this door again."</p>
+<p>Later at the Bank Exchange McGowan found the supervisor cursing
+as he raised a glass of whiskey with a trembling hand.</p>
+<p>"Well, did you make him insult you?"</p>
+<p>"Damn him," was all Casey could answer. "Damn him. Damn him." He
+tossed the raw liquor down his throat and poured another drink.
+McGowan smiled.</p>
+<p>"You can do that till Doomsday and it won't hurt him." McGowan's
+voice rang with contempt. "Is that all you can do? Are you
+afraid--"</p>
+<p>Casey interrupted fiercely. "I'm NOT afraid. You know it. I'll
+get even."</p>
+<p>"How?"</p>
+<p>"Never mind. You'll see," the politician muttered darkly.</p>
+<p>"You're a drunken fool," remarked McGowan. "You've no chance
+with King. He's twice as big as you. He carries a derringer. And he
+shoots straight. Listen to me." He dragged the other to a corner of
+the room; they sat there for at least an hour arguing,
+drinking.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>James King of William watched Casey's exit from the Bulletin
+with a smile. He recalled his wife's warning that morning as he
+left his home, "Look out for Casey, James."</p>
+<p>"Pooh, Charlotte," he had reassured her. "I've far worse enemies
+than that prison rat."</p>
+<p>She had merely smiled, smoothed a wrinkle from his coat and
+kissed him, a worried look in her eyes. Then the children had
+gathered round him. Little Annie wanted a toy piano, Joe some
+crayons for his work at school.</p>
+<p>Remembering this, King seized a desk pad, wrote on it some words
+of memoranda. Then he straightway forgot Casey in the detail of
+work.</p>
+<p>When the Bulletin was off the press, the pad, with its written
+inscription, caught his eye and he shoved it into a side
+pocket.</p>
+<p>"Well, I'm going home," he said to Nesbitt. "Must buy a few
+things for the children."</p>
+<p>Nesbitt looked up half absently from his writing. "Afternoon,"
+he greeted. "Better take your derringer. Don't know what might
+happen."</p>
+<p>King shrugged himself into the talma cape, which he usually wore
+on the streets. It is doubtful if he heard Nesbitt's warning. With
+a nod to Gerberding he sauntered slowly out, enjoying the mellow
+spring sunshine, filtering now and then through wisps of fog. As he
+turned into Montgomery street he almost collided with Benito
+Windham, who, brief case under arm, was striding rapidly southward.
+They exchanged a cordial greeting. Benito looked after the tall
+courtly figure crossing Montgomery street diagonally toward a big
+express wagon. Benito thought he could discern a quick nervous
+movement back of it. A man stepped out, directly across King's
+path.</p>
+<p>He was James P. Casey, tremendously excited. His right hand
+shook violently. His hat was on one side of his head; he was
+apparently intoxicated. King did not notice him until they were
+almost abreast.</p>
+<p>Casey's arm was outstretched, pointed at King's breast. "Draw
+and defend yourself," he said loudly. He shut his eyes and a little
+puff of smoke seemed to spring from the ends of his fingers,
+followed in the fraction of a second by a sharp report.</p>
+<p>Benito ran with all his might toward the men. He did not think
+that King was hit, for the editor turned toward the Pacific Express
+office. On the threshold he stumbled. A clerk ran out and caught
+the tall figure as it collapsed.</p>
+<p>Benito looked about for King's assailant. He saw a group of men
+on Washington street, but was unable to distinguish Casey among
+them, though McGowan's lanky form was visible.</p>
+<p>At Benito's feet lay a pocket-memorandum marked with a splash of
+red. The young man picked it up and read:</p>
+<p>"Piano for Annie.</p>
+<p>"Crayons for Joe.</p>
+<p>"Candy--"</p>
+<p>A man with a medicine case shouldered his way in. He was Dr.
+Hammond. "Get a basin," he ordered, "some warm water." He
+unbuttoned the wounded man's coat, looking grave as he saw the
+spreading red stain on his shirt.</p>
+<p>"Will he get well, doctor?" shouted a dozen voices.</p>
+<br>
+<a name="page200.jpg"></a>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/page200.jpg" width="85%" alt=
+""><br>
+<b>"Draw and defend yourself," he said loudly. He shut his eyes and
+a little puff of smoke seemed to spring from the end of his
+fingers, followed ... by a sharp report.</b></p>
+<br>
+<p>"Can't tell ... 'fraid not," Hammond answered, and a sympathetic
+silence followed his announcement.</p>
+<p>Someone cried: "Where's Casey?"</p>
+<p>Word came that Casey was in jail. "He gave himself up," a man
+said.</p>
+<p>Presently there was a sound of carriage wheels. A white-faced
+woman made her way to the express office. The crowd stood with
+bared heads as it opened a way for her passage. The woman was Mrs.
+King. They heard her sobbing.</p>
+<p>Gerberding and Nesbitt came and made their exit after a short
+stay. Tears ran down Nesbitt's cheeks. "I told him so," they heard
+him muttering, "I told him so.... He wouldn't listen.... Didn't
+take his pistol."</p>
+<p>Last of all came William Coleman, lips pressed tightly together,
+eyes hard. He remained only a few moments. Benito hailed him as he
+emerged from the express office.</p>
+<p>"Any chance of recovery?"</p>
+<p>"Very little." The tone was grim.</p>
+<p>"I hate to think of what may happen if he dies?" Windham
+commented.</p>
+<p>"Hell will break loose," Coleman stated with conviction. "Better
+come along, Benito. I'm going to find Ike Bluxome. It's time we
+prepared."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLII"></a>CHAPTER XLII</h2>
+<h3>THE COMMITTEE ORGANIZES</h3>
+<br>
+<p>When Benito rode up Montgomery street next morning he saw a
+litter being carried out of the Pacific Express Office. Beside it,
+were Mrs. King, Dr. Hammond and John Sime. They walked very slowly
+and the crowd fell back on either side as the litter-bearers
+progressed.</p>
+<p>Benito's heart stood still a moment. "Is he--?" the question
+formed reluctantly upon his lips. But David Broderick, standing by,
+reassured him.</p>
+<p>"No, not dead. Thank Heaven! They're taking him to more
+comfortable quarters. A room in the Montgomery Block. They've
+postponed the operation on the artery; as a last resort."</p>
+<p>"Dave," said Windham, seriously, "do you suppose you'll be
+blamed for this?"</p>
+<p>"Good God, man! No," returned the other. "Not even Gwin would
+dare to lay this at my door. There's no politics in it. At least
+none of mine."</p>
+<p>"Yet Casey was one of your men. They'll say that."</p>
+<p>"Let them," answered Broderick angrily. "I've no more to do with
+it than you--nor Coleman, who, they tell me, is forming another
+Vigilance Committee."</p>
+<p>"Yes," said Windham. "They're to meet at the old Know Nothing
+Hall on Sacramento street. I'm going there now."</p>
+<p>"Well I'm bound for a talk with Will Sherman; he's been
+appointed head of the militia. Just in time I should say. He'll be
+needed before order is restored."</p>
+<p>They shook hands. Benito looked after his friend uneasily.
+Broderick was on the wrong side, the young man thought; was taking
+an unwise tack. But no one could argue with Broderick ... unless it
+were Alice. They must have Dave to dinner again.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>The street in front of Know Nothing Hall, a long two-story brick
+building was already crowded. One by one men were admitted--or
+rejected. Now and then a man would fall out of the line muttering
+wrathfully.</p>
+<p>"They're taking mighty good care not to let any of Scannell's
+friends get in," a man behind Benito confided. "The Sheriff's sent
+a dozen 'plants' this morning but Bluxome weeds them out
+unfailingly."</p>
+<p>After a time Benito found himself at the wicket, gazing into
+Isaac Bluxome's shrewd eyes. He was passed immediately with a smile
+of welcome and found himself in a large room of the "lodge"
+variety. There was a desk behind which sat William Coleman and
+Charles Doane.</p>
+<p>About one hundred men moved about talking animatedly in groups
+and among these Benito noted many of his fellows of the '51
+committee.</p>
+<p>Presently Coleman spoke.</p>
+<p>"Gentlemen, it has been decided to reorganize the Vigilance
+Committee. Mr. Bluxome and I have assumed the initiative, without
+any idea of placing ourselves at the head of the organization.
+Neither of us desire more than a chance to serve--in whatever
+capacity you may determine. We have prepared a form of oath, which
+I suggest shall be signed by each of us with his name and the
+number of his enrollment. Afterward he shall be known by that
+number only."</p>
+<p>He read the oath: "I do solemnly swear to act with the Vigilance
+Committee and second and sustain in full all their actions as
+expressed through the executive committee."</p>
+<p>"That's good!" "That's the ticket!" affirmed a score of voices.
+Coleman held up a quill pen invitingly, "Who'll be first to
+sign?"</p>
+<p>"You, Mr. Coleman," said Benito firmly, "you must be our
+chief."</p>
+<p>A cheer followed. Coleman demurred but in vain. They would have
+no one else. So, at last he put his name upon the paper, adding
+after it "No. 1."</p>
+<p>Others came up and affixed their signatures: C.J. Dempster, the
+Post brothers, Alfred Rix, P.G. Childs and so on. Bluxome, relieved
+from his post, was No. 33. It proved in after days a potent numeral
+for it represented the secretarial seal on documents which spelled
+doom to evildoers; hope, law and order to an outraged populace.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Meanwhile, McGowan, Scannell and his clan had not been idle. On
+the night of the shooting one hundred men proceeded to the Pacific
+street wharf where the Coliah and Seabird were anchored. From each
+of these, by force of arms, but with a promise of return, they took
+a ship's cannon which they dragged by means of two long ropes,
+uphill to the county stronghold.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>On Thursday morning Mayor Van Ness stalked into Turner, Lucas
+&amp; Company's bank and button-holed the manager. This was William
+T. Sherman, late of the United States army.</p>
+<p>"Sherman," said Van Ness excitedly, "is it true that you've been
+appointed major-general in charge of the second division of the
+California Militia?"</p>
+<p>"It is," retorted Sherman. His calm demeanor as he answered,
+without even looking up from the stock sheets which engrossed him,
+contrasted sharply with the fuming unrest of Van Ness. The latter
+now seized Sherman's sleeve.</p>
+<p>"Lay those down and come with me," he urged. "We need you
+instantly. Armed mobs are organizing to destroy the jail and seize
+the city government. It's your duty, sir, your manifest duty--"</p>
+<p>"All right, mayor," Sherman said, "I'll go along." He called a
+clerk and gave some orders. Then he slipped the stock sheets into a
+drawer and took his hat from a peg.</p>
+<p>They strode along together, Van Ness gesturing and talking;
+Sherman's head slightly bent as if in thought. Now and then he
+asked a curt question.</p>
+<p>The crowd about the jail had dwindled to a few curiosity
+seekers. The center of public interest had shifted to Know Nothing
+Hall where Vigilantes were still enrolling.</p>
+<p>Sherman and Van Ness found Sheriff Scannell, Ned McGowan, Billy
+Mulligan and the prisoner Casey in vehement consultation. They
+welcomed the soldier and mayor with manifest relief.</p>
+<p>"I'm glad you came," said Mulligan, "things look bad. There'll
+be Hell poppin'--if that d---- fool dies."</p>
+<p>"If you are referring to Mr. King, speak of him with respect."
+Sherman's tone was like a whiplash. The soldier turned to Scannell.
+"How many men have you? Men on whom you can depend in a
+crisis?"</p>
+<p>Scannell hesitated. "A hundred maybe ... but," he looked at
+Sherman hopefully, "there's your militia. Some of them served last
+night."</p>
+<p>"They've refused further service," said Van Ness. "I'm told that
+most of them have gone over to the Vigilantes ... and taken their
+arms along."</p>
+<p>Sherman stroked his chin. "This place is not impregnable by any
+means," he remarked. "The first thing we must do is to secure the
+buildings on each side."</p>
+<p>"Too late," groaned Scannell. "I tried to find lodgings for some
+of my guards at Mrs. Hutchinson's boarding house. She slammed the
+door in my face. I tried the other side and found that Coleman and
+Bluxome had an option on it. They've already sent men to guard both
+places."</p>
+<p>"Then," Sherman told them, "you cannot defend this jail against
+a well planned attack. Perhaps they'll not resort to force," he
+added hopefully. "The Governor's coming down to talk with
+Coleman."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIII"></a>CHAPTER XLIII</h2>
+<h3>GOVERNOR JOHNSON MEDIATES</h3>
+<br>
+<p>On the second day after the shooting, Governor J. Neely Johnson
+arrived on the evening boat. Mayor Van Ness had sent him a panicky
+message, imploring him to drop all else and hasten to San
+Francisco. The Mayor and William K. Garrison met him at the dock.
+They almost pushed the Governor into a carriage which was driven
+hastily to the International Hotel.</p>
+<p>In his room, behind closed doors, the Governor spoke a trifle
+irritably: "What the devil's all this row about, Van Ness? The town
+seems quiet enough. You spoke of civil war."</p>
+<p>"Coleman's organized another Vigilance Committee," Garrison took
+it upon himself to answer. "You know how impulsive San Franciscans
+are. They're in for anything. Two thousand have already joined.
+They've bought all the arms in town except a few that Sheriff
+Scannell seized in the militia armories. Scannell's sent out a
+hurry call for deputies--"</p>
+<p>"But," broke in the Governor, incredulously, "you say Coleman's
+doing this. I can't believe it. Coleman's a good man, a quiet
+fellow. He's my friend. I'll go to him at once."</p>
+<p>He rose, but Garrison, the politic, raised his hand. "Let him
+come to you. Summon him. The effect is much better."</p>
+<p>"As you say," acceded Johnson with a smile. "Send for Coleman,
+with my compliments." He resumed his seat and picked up an Evening
+Bulletin, shaking his head. "Poor King, I hear he's dying."</p>
+<p>"A dangerous man," remarked Garrison as he left the room.</p>
+<p>"He is a lot less dangerous alive--than dead," the Mayor
+shivered. "As a reformer he'd soon have ceased to interest the
+public. Nobody interests them long. But as a martyr!" he threw up
+his hands. "God help San Francisco!"</p>
+<p>They discussed the dangers of a public outbreak till a knock at
+the door interrupted them.</p>
+<p>It proved to be Garrison, accompanied by the Vigilante chief.
+"Hello, Coleman," the Governor greeted, cordially. The two shook
+hands. "What's this I hear about your Vigilante recrudescence?" He
+smote his hands together with a catechising manner. "What do you
+people want?"</p>
+<p>"We want peace," responded Coleman.</p>
+<p>"And, to get it, you prepare for war. What do you expect to
+accomplish?"</p>
+<p>"What the Vigilantes did in '51--"</p>
+<p>Briefly and concisely he outlined the frightful condition of
+affairs in San Francisco; the straining of public patience to its
+present breaking point.</p>
+<p>"Now, Governor," he said, impressively, "you've been called on
+by the Mayor and a certain class to bring out the militia and put
+down this movement. I assure you it cannot be done. It's not the
+way to treat the question...."</p>
+<p>"What is the way, then?" Johnson asked, aggressively.</p>
+<p>"Allow us to clean our Augean stables without more than a formal
+opposition from the State. Issue your necessary proclamations to
+maintain the dignity of the law. But don't interfere with our work.
+We shall get through with it quickly--and be glad to quit, I
+promise you."</p>
+<p>He rose and Johnson with him. Suddenly the Governor slapped the
+Vigilante chief a rousing whack upon the shoulder. "Go ahead, old
+boy! But hurry up. There is terrible opposition. Terrific
+pressure."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Turn Verein Hall that evening was a busy place. A dozen
+companies were drilling on the big gymnasium floor. Men who had
+never shouldered guns were executing orders with an ardor and a
+concentration which concealed much awkwardness of
+unfamiliarity.</p>
+<p>The garb and condition of recruits were vividly diversified.
+Doctor, teamster, lawyer, stevedore and banker, they were actuated
+by a common spirit, working through the manual of arms together,
+conscious of no caste.</p>
+<p>Benito and Adrian, who had come in late, surveyed the drilling.
+Warren Olney, big and forceful, gave them cordial welcome. "You're
+both in my company," he informed them. "We've graded all the
+signers of the roll according to their numbers. That is, the first
+hundred signers make the first company, the second hundred another.
+And so on."</p>
+<p>"How about cavalry and artillery?" Benito questioned.</p>
+<p>"Oh, we'll have both, don't worry," Charles Doane answered them.
+"Two vessels in the harbor have contributed cannon; we'll mount
+them on the foreparts of wagons. That's where Olney and his men
+will come in. And we've splendid riders, though the troops are
+still to be rounded into shape." He passed on hurriedly to execute
+some commission. "There's a splendid fellow," Olney said. "He's to
+be grand marshal of our forces." He took Benito and Adrian by the
+arm and led them toward a group of waiting men. "We must get our
+battery organized."</p>
+<p>A messenger strode hastily across the room seeking Coleman, who
+conferred with Doane in a distant corner. "The Governor's outside,"
+he whispered as he passed.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Coleman, entering the ante-room in answer to a summons, found
+Governor Johnson; his brother; W. K. Garrison and William Sherman,
+head of the somewhat depleted militia. A subtle change was
+noticeable in Johnson's manner. He spoke with brusque official
+authority, as if no previous interview had taken place:</p>
+<p>"Mr. Coleman, what are you and your committee plotting? Can't
+this trouble be adjusted here and now?"</p>
+<p>Coleman accepted the situation. He saw that opposition forces
+had been active.</p>
+<p>"We are tired of outlawry and assassination, Governor," he
+answered. "We've determined to endure them no longer. Street
+shooting's got to stop!"</p>
+<p>"I agree with you," the Governor admitted. "I've come down from
+Sacramento to aid. But this is a matter for the courts, and not for
+you to adjust. Our judges are honest. You can't impugn a man like
+Norton." He lowered his voice. "I'll see that Norton tries the
+case; that a grand jury indicts Casey. I'll do everything I can to
+force a trial, a conviction--and a speedy execution.... I've no
+right to make such promises. But I'll do it--to save this city the
+disgrace of a mob."</p>
+<p>Coleman raised his head. "This is no mob. You know it,
+Governor," he answered. "We've no faith in Sheriff Scannell nor his
+juries." He turned to Sherman. "This committee is a deliberative
+body, sir; regularly organized with officers and men, an executive
+council. The best men in the city are its members...."</p>
+<p>"And you are its Czar," remarked Garrison, tauntingly.</p>
+<p>"I am chairman by their choice--not mine," said Coleman, tartly.
+"To show you that I make no personal decisions, I will call other
+members of the council." He bowed and withdrew, returning in a few
+moments with the brothers Arrington, Thomas Smiley, Seymour and
+Truitt. The two sides went over the ground a second time. Smiley
+insisted that Casey be delivered to the Vigilantes. Johnson
+suggested that the committee continue its labors, but permit the
+court to try Casey, even in the event of King's death. An impasse
+loomed. Finally came Coleman's ultimatum: "If Sheriff Scannell will
+permit ten of our members to join the guard over Casey, this
+committee will agree to make no overt move--until our guards are
+withdrawn and you are notified."</p>
+<p>"Done," agreed the Governor, hastily.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIV"></a>CHAPTER XLIV</h2>
+<h3>THE TRUCE IS BROKEN</h3>
+<br>
+<p>On the Garvez ranch, at sunset, the 17th of May, David Broderick
+found a gracious interval of peace. It seemed almost incredible to
+be dining in the patio with Benito and Alice against a background
+of fragrant honeysuckle and early roses. The long sloping mesas
+were bright with golden poppies; fleecy white clouds bedecked the
+azure of a western sky, flushing now with carmine tints. Cowbells
+tinkled musically faint with distance and from the vaquero quarters
+came a herder's song, a woman's laughter, the tinkle of a
+guitar.</p>
+<p>"What are you dreaming of, my friend?" asked Alice Windham,
+gently.</p>
+<p>"It is very like a dream," he smiled at her, "this place of
+yours. So near the city. Yet so far removed in its
+enchantment....</p>
+<p>"Down there," he pointed toward the town, where lights were
+springing up out of the dusk, "a man lies dying ... and a mob plots
+vengeance."</p>
+<p>"Oh, come," Benito voiced a protest, "we're not a mob, Dave. You
+know that." He laid a hand upon the other's arm. "I understand how
+hard it's been for you.... You're suffering for the sins of
+underlings unfit to lace your boots."</p>
+<p>"Against whom you warned me not long since," said Broderick to
+Alice.</p>
+<p>"Casey, Mulligan. Yes, I remember ... you resented it a little,
+didn't you?"</p>
+<p>"No," he said, his eyes upon her with that eager look, repressed
+and yearning, which she could not always meet. "No, dear lady; it
+was not resentment.... But it hurt."</p>
+<p>Alice turned from him to her husband. "Tell me what they've done
+today, Benito."</p>
+<p>Windham's eyes shone. "You should see Will Coleman. Ah, he's a
+leader incomparable. We've got nearly 6,000 men. Infantry,
+artillery, cavalry. A police force, too, for patrolling the streets
+day and night."</p>
+<p>"And what is the other side doing?" Alice asked.</p>
+<p>"They've got the Governor wobbling," said Benito. "Sooner or
+later he'll call out the militia...."</p>
+<p>"But they've got no ammunition, no guns, I understand,"
+responded Broderick. "Sherman tried to commandeer those flintlock
+muskets from the Mexican war--several thousand of them--but Coleman
+got them first."</p>
+<p>"Yes," affirmed Benito. "The Sheriff's seized some scattered
+arms. But that is not what Coleman fears. It's Federal
+interference. They're trying to get General Wool to give them
+rifles from the arsenal at Benicia, perhaps a gunboat from the navy
+yard."</p>
+<p>"That means--civil warfare," Broderick said, aghast.</p>
+<p>Alice Windham rose and the two men with her. She took an arm of
+each. "Come," she pleaded, "let us put it all away--this turmoil of
+men's hatred ... let us walk here in the sweet-scented evening and
+forget."</p>
+<p>"I wish we might," said Broderick quickly. "What will happen in
+the next few days may never be forgotten."</p>
+<p>Swiftly, Alice turned to him; looked up into his face. "Do you
+think," she asked, so low that he could scarcely catch the words,
+"do you think, Dave, that you're safe?"</p>
+<p>Broderick caught his breath. Involuntarily his eyes strayed
+toward Benito. But the latter was so patently absorbed in sunset
+splendors that Broderick sighed as if relieved. It seemed as though
+some holy thing had passed between him and this woman. In her look,
+her simple question lay a shadowy, half-spoken answer to his
+heart's unuttered prayer. For a moment the world seemed aglow with
+some strange, quiet glory. Then he said, quite calmly: "I? Oh, yes,
+I'm safe enough."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Saturday passed without much change in King's condition. He was
+sinking slowly, despite his rugged strength, his will to live and
+the unceasing efforts of the city's best physicians.</p>
+<p>The Law and Order Party was being organized out of various
+elements that viewed alarmedly the Vigilantes' growing power.
+Religious, political, social elements combined in this new faction.
+In it were men of note, distinction, undisputed honor; and rascals
+of the worst degree.</p>
+<p>Ned McGowan, it was rumored, had gone into hiding. Broderick
+kept to himself and took no sides, yet. Many sought him for support
+and for advice, but he repulsed them tactfully, remaining in his
+room to read; walking silently about at twilight. He had a way of
+standing on a hilltop, losing count of minutes, even hours. Thus
+Adrian surprised him one evening gazing down on San Francisco's
+winking street lamps as the night came down.</p>
+<p>"Hello, Dave," he said, "why so pensive?"</p>
+<p>Quietly as he spoke the other started. "I was wondering about
+tomorrow...."</p>
+<p>"Why tomorrow?"</p>
+<p>Broderick looked around to satisfy himself that there was no one
+else to hear. "Coleman will withdraw his Vigilante guard from the
+jail on Sunday morning.... Oh, yes," he added, as the other seemed
+surprised, "I have my agents in the Committee's camp. Not to harm
+them. I don't hold with spies and treachery.... But I have to keep
+informed."</p>
+<p>Adrian looked at his friend, astonished. This was news to him.
+Broderick went on: "The Governor's indirectly forced their hand.
+Coleman knows that violent forces are at work to overthrow his
+Vigilantes; that the Governor's aiding them. So he's decided to
+strike."</p>
+<p>"Tomorrow, eh!" said Adrian thoughtfully. "That means bloodshed,
+probably."</p>
+<p>Broderick turned a gloomy countenance toward him. "I don't
+know," he answered, and resumed his gazing. Adrian went on. He
+looked back after he had gone a hundred yards. The other man
+remained there, immobile and silent as a statue.</p>
+<p>Governor J. Neely Johnson paced up and down the confines of his
+suite at the International Hotel. In a chair sprawled Mayor Van
+Ness, his fingers opening and shutting spasmodically upon the
+leather upholstery. Volney Howard leaned in a swaggering posture
+against the mantelpiece, smoking a big cigar and turning at
+intervals to expectorate out of one corner of his mouth.</p>
+<p>"Well," said Howard, "the President's turned us down. We get no
+Federal aid, I understand. What next?"</p>
+<p>Johnson stopped his pacing. "I fancy Coleman will have to answer
+that question. Our cue is to wait."</p>
+<p>"'He also serves who stands and waits'," quoted Howard
+sardonically.</p>
+<p>There came a knock at the door. Van Ness, arising quickly,
+answered it. A uniformed page stood on the threshold bearing a
+silver platter on which reposed two letters. Something about the
+incident again aroused Howard's sense of humor. "Like a play," he
+muttered. "'My Lord, the carriage waits.'"</p>
+<p>With an exclamation of annoyance the Governor stepped forward,
+took the two envelopes, displacing them with a bit of silver, and
+dismissed the boy. He opened both missives before examining either.
+Then he stood for a moment, a rectangle of paper in either hand,
+frowning.</p>
+<p>Van Ness, peering over the Governor's shoulder, read:</p>
+<p>We have given up hope for Mr. King's recovery. His death is a
+matter of days, perhaps hours.</p>
+<blockquote>DR. HAMMOND.<br>
+<br>
+We beg to inform your Excellency that the Vigilance Committee's
+guard at the county jail has been withdrawn.<br>
+<br>
+33, SECRETARY.</blockquote>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLV"></a>CHAPTER XLV</h2>
+<h3>THE COMMITTEE STRIKES</h3>
+<br>
+<p>On Sunday morning, May 18th, all of San Francisco was astir at
+dawn. There was none of the usual late breakfasting, the leisurely
+perusal of a morning paper.</p>
+<p>In some mysterious fashion word had gone abroad that history
+would be made this morning. The odd and feverish expectancy which
+rides, an unseen herald in the van of large events, was
+everywhere.</p>
+<p>A part of this undue activity resulted from the summoning of
+male members out of nearly three thousand households for military
+duty to begin at 9 o'clock. Long before that hour the general
+headquarters of the Vigilantes swarmed with members.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>As a neighboring clock struck noon, the Vigilantes debouched
+into the street, an advance guard of riders clearing that
+thoroughfare of crowding spectators. First came Captain James N.
+Olney commanding the Citizens' Guard of sixty picked men, so
+soldierly in appearance that their coming evoked a cheer.</p>
+<p>Company 11, officered by Captain Donnelly and Lieutenant Frank
+Eastman came next, and after them a company of French citizens,
+very straight and gallant in appearance; then a German company.
+Followed at precise and military intervals a score or more of
+companies, with their gleaming bayonets, each standing at attention
+until the entire host had been assembled. Now and then some
+bystander cried a greeting. On the roofs were now a fringe of
+colored parasols, a fluttering of handkerchiefs. One might have
+deemed it a parade save for a certain grimness, the absence of
+bands. There was a hush as Marshal Doane rode all along the line
+and paused at the head to review his troops. One could hear him
+clearly as he raised his sabre and commanded, "Forward, march!" At
+the sidelines the lieutenants chanted:</p>
+<p>"Hup! Hup! Hup-hup-hup!"</p>
+<p>Legs began to move in an impressive clock-work unison. Gradually
+the thousands of bayonets took motion, seemed to flow along like
+some strange stream of scintillating lights.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>On the roof of the International Hotel the Governor, the Mayor,
+Major-General Sherman of the State Militia, Volney Howard and a
+little group of others watched the Vigilantes as they marched up
+Sacramento street. The Governor seemed calm enough; only the
+spasmodic puffs from his cigar betrayed agitation. Van Ness walked
+back and forth, cramming his hands into his breeches pockets and
+withdrawing them every ten seconds. Volney looked down with his
+usual sardonic smile but his eyes were bitter with hate. Sherman
+alone displayed the placidity of a soldier.</p>
+<p>"Look at the damned rabble!" exclaimed Howard. "They're
+dividing. Some are going up Pacific street to Kearney, some to
+Dupont and ... yes, a part of them on Stockton."</p>
+<p>"It's what you call an enfilading movement," said Sherman
+quietly.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>In the county jail were Sheriff Scannell, Harrison his deputy,
+Marshal North, Billy Mulligan the jailor, and a small guard. Some
+of these watched proceedings from the roof, now and then descending
+to report to Scannell. Cora, in his cell, played solitaire and
+Casey made pretense of reading a book.</p>
+<p>Presently Scannell entered the room where Casey sat; it was not
+a cell nor had the door been locked since the withdrawal of the
+Vigilante guard. Casey looked up quickly. "What's the latest news
+from King?"</p>
+<p>"He's dying, so they say," retorted Scannell.</p>
+<p>"Dave," it was almost a whisper. "You've been to Broderick?
+Curse him, won't he turn his hand to help a friend?"</p>
+<p>"Easy, Billy," said the Sheriff. "Broderick's never been your
+friend; you know that well enough. Your boss, perhaps. But even so,
+he couldn't help you. No one can.... This town's gone mad."</p>
+<p>"What d'ye mean?" asked Casey in a frightened whisper.</p>
+<p>"Billy," spoke the Sheriff, "have a drink." He poured a liberal
+potion from a bottle standing on the table. Casey drained the
+glass, his eyes never leaving Scannell's. "Now," resumed the
+Sheriff, "listen, boy, and take it cool. THEY'RE COMING FOR
+YOU!"</p>
+<p>At first Casey made no reply. One might have thought he had not
+heard, save for the widening of his eyes.</p>
+<p>"You--you'll not let them take me, Dave?" he said, after a
+silence. "You'll fight?"</p>
+<p>Scannell's hand fell on the other's shoulder. "I've only thirty
+men; they're a hundred to one. They've a cannon."</p>
+<p>They looked at one another. Casey closed his fists and
+straightened slightly. "Give me a case-knife, Dave," he pleaded.
+"I'll not let them take me. I'll--"</p>
+<p>Silently, Scannell drew from his boot a knife in a leather
+sheath. Casey grasped it, feverishly, concealing it beneath his
+vest. "How soon?" he asked, "how soon?"</p>
+<p>Scannell strode to the window. "They're outside now," he
+informed the shrinking Casey. "The executive committee's in front
+... the Citizens' Guard is forming a hollow square around them....
+Miers Truett's coming to the door."</p>
+<p>Casey drew the knife; raised it dramatically. "I'll not let them
+take me," he shouted, as if to bolster up courage by the sound of
+his own voice. "I'll never leave this place alive."</p>
+<p>Sheriff Scannell, summoned by a deputy, looked over his
+shoulder. "Oh, yes, you will," he muttered. In his tone were pity
+and disdain.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Early Tuesday afternoon Benito and Broderick met in front of the
+Montgomery Block. The former had just been released from duty at
+Committee Headquarters, where a guard of 300 men was, night and
+day, maintained.</p>
+<p>"Casey has spent most of his time writing since we captured
+him," Benito told his friend. "He recovered his nerve when he found
+we'd no intention of hanging him without a trial. Of course, if
+King should live, he'll get off lightly. And then, there's
+Cora--"</p>
+<p>"Yes, he'll be a problem, if the other one's released," said
+Broderick. "Unless King dies this whole eruption of the Vigilantes
+will fall flat."</p>
+<p>Benito nodded, half reluctantly. "It seems--like destiny," he
+muttered. Suddenly his head jerked upward. "What is that?"</p>
+<p>A man came running out of the Montgomery Block. He seemed
+excited. His accelerated pace continued as he sped down Sacramento
+street. Presently another made his exit; ran like mad, uphill,
+toward the jail.</p>
+<p>Dr. Hammond, looking very grim, came hurriedly out of the door
+and entered a closed carriage. It drove off instantly. Then
+everything went on as usual. The two men stood there, watchful,
+expectant. The town seemed unusually still. A flag on a two-story
+building flapped monotonously. Then a man across the street ran out
+of his store and pointed upward. A rope was thrown from an upper
+window of the Montgomery Block. Someone picked it up and carried it
+to The Bulletin Building, pulled it taut. On a strip of linen had
+been hastily inscribed the following announcement, stretched across
+the street:</p>
+<p>"THE GREAT AND GOOD IS DEAD. WHO WILL NOT MOURN?"</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVI"></a>CHAPTER XLVI</h2>
+<h3>RETRIBUTION</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Cora's trial was in progress. In the upper front room of
+Vigilante headquarters sat the tribunal upon whose decision Cora's
+fate would rest. They were grouped about a long table, twenty-nine
+men, the executive committee. At their head sat William Coleman,
+grim and stern, despite his clear complexion and his youthful,
+beardless mien. Near him, Isaac Bluxome, keen-eyed, shrewd,
+efficient, made notes of the proceedings.</p>
+<p>Cora, affecting an air of nonchalance, and, as ever, immaculate
+in dress, sat between his counsel, Miers F. Truett and Thomas J.L.
+Smiley, while John P. Manrow acted as the prosecutor.</p>
+<p>The gambler's eyes were fixed upon the trio when he was not
+searching the faces of those other silent men about the board. They
+were dressed in black. There was about them an air of impassivity
+almost removed from human emotion, and Cora could not but contrast
+them with the noisy, chewing, spitting, red-shirted jury at his
+previous trial, where Belle Cora's thousands had proved efficacious
+in securing disagreement. There would be no disagreement here.
+Instinctively, Cora knew that.</p>
+<p>Marshal Doane entered. He held in his hand a folded paper.
+Coleman and the others looked at him expectantly. "It is my great
+misfortune to report that James King of William is dead," said
+Doane. There was a buzz of comment, almost instantly stilled by
+Coleman's gavel. "Damn!" said the gambler under his breath.</p>
+<p>"Gentlemen, we will proceed with the trial," Coleman spoke. The
+examination of witnesses went on. But there was a difference. Cora
+noticed it. Sometimes, with an involuntary, shuddering gesture, he
+touched the skin above his flowing collar.</p>
+<p>Casey, when informed of King's death, trembled. "Your trial
+begins tomorrow," Doane informed him. "They'll finish with Cora
+tonight."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Thursday morning carpenters were seen at work on the Vigilante
+building. A stout beam was projected from the roof over two of the
+upper windows facing Sacramento street; to these pulleys were
+attached.</p>
+<p>Platforms were extended from the window sills. They were about
+three feet long and were seen to be hinged at the sills. The ends
+were held up by ropes fastened to the beams overhead.</p>
+<p>Stouter ropes next appeared, one end passing through the pulleys
+overhead, then they were caught up in nooses. The other ends were
+in the committee rooms.</p>
+<p>Men tested the platforms by standing on them; tried the nooses;
+found them strong. Then the carpenters retired. The windows were
+closed.</p>
+<p>A crowd below looked up expectantly, but nothing happened until
+noon, when military companies formed lines along Sacramento, Front
+and Davis streets. Cannon were placed to command all possible
+approaches. The great alarm bell of the Vigilantes sounded.</p>
+<p>By this time every roof near by was thronged with people. A cry
+went up as the windows of Vigilante headquarters were opened. At
+each stood a man, his arms pinioned. He advanced to the edge of the
+platform.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Bells were tolling. Black bunting was festooned from hundreds of
+doors and windows. All the flags of the city were at half-mast,
+even those of ships in the Bay.</p>
+<p>From the Unitarian Church on Stockton street, between Clay and
+Sacramento, came the funeral cortege on its way to the burial
+ground at Lone Mountain. Everywhere along the route people stood
+with bared heads.</p>
+<p>Little Joe King, a son of the murdered editor, 10 years of age,
+sat stiff and stunned by the strangeness of it all in a carriage
+beside Mrs. John Sime. Mr. and Mrs. Sime were great friends of his
+father and mother, and Mrs. Sime, whom he sometimes called
+"Auntie," had taken him into her carriage, since that of the widow
+was filled.</p>
+<p>Little Joe did not know what to make of it all. He knew,
+somehow, vaguely, that his father had been put into a long box that
+had silver handles and was covered with flowers. He knew of that
+mystery called death, but he had not visualized it closely
+heretofore. The thing overwhelmed him. Just now he could only
+realize that his father was being honored as no one had ever before
+been honored in San Francisco. That was something he could take
+hold of.</p>
+<p>As the carriage approached Sacramento street the crowd
+thickened. He heard a high-pitched voice that seemed almost to be
+screaming. He made out phrases faintly:</p>
+<p>"... God!... My poor mother!... Let nobody call ... murderer ...
+God save me ... only 29 ..."</p>
+<p>Swiftly the screaming stopped. A strange silence fell on the
+crowd. They turned their heads and looked down Sacramento street.
+Little Joe could stand the curiosity no longer. He craned his neck
+to see. Far down the street soldiers were standing before a
+building. Everybody watched them open-mouthed. In front of the
+building on a high platform two men stood as if they were making
+speeches. But they did not move their arms, and their heads looked
+very queer ... as if they had bags over them.</p>
+<p>Then, unexpectedly, Mrs. Sime forced him back. She pulled the
+curtain on the left side of the carriage. Little Joe heard a
+half-suppressed roar go up from the throng. For an instant the
+carriage halted. He was grievously disappointed not to witness the
+thing which held the public eye. Then the carriage went on.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Later, another funeral wended its way through the streets. It
+was at night and ill attended. A handsome woman followed it with
+streaming eyes; a woman who lived by an evil trade, and the inmates
+of whose house were given over to sin. Early that morning she had
+married a murderer. Now she was a widow with a broken heart--she
+whom many stigmatized as heartless.</p>
+<p>For many years she was to visit and to weep over the grave of a
+little dark man who had touched her affections; who might, under
+happier conditions, have awakened her soul. She was Mrs. Charles
+Cora, born Arabella Ryan, and widely known as "Belle," the mistress
+of a bawdy house.</p>
+<p>A few members of Casey's fire engine company paid him final
+honors. Shrived, before his execution, he was laid in holy ground,
+a stone erected over his grave.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>The city returned more or less to its normal activities. But the
+Vigilante Committee remained in active session. It had avenged the
+deaths of Richardson and King, but it had other work to do.</p>
+<p>About this time, Yankee Sullivan, prize-fighter, ballot-box
+stuffer and political plug-ugly, killed himself in Vigilante
+quarters, evidently mad with fear.</p>
+<p>Ned McGowan, made of different stuff, arch plotter, thought by
+many to be the instigator of King's murder, went into hiding.</p>
+<br>
+<a name="page224.jpg"></a>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/page224.jpg" width="85%" alt=
+""><br>
+<b>In front of the building on a high platform, two men stood.... A
+half suppressed roar went up from the throng.</b></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVII"></a>CHAPTER XLVII</h2>
+<h3>HINTS OF CIVIL WAR</h3>
+<br>
+<p>After the hanging a temporary reaction took place--a let-down
+from the hectic, fevered agitations of preceding days. Members of
+the Law and Order Party were secretly relieved by the removal of
+Casey and Cora.</p>
+<p>"Now that they've shot their bolt, we'll have peace," said Hall
+McAllister to Broderick. But the latter shook his head. "They've
+only started, Mac," he answered, "don't deceive yourself. These
+Vigilantes are business men; they've a business-like organization.
+Citizens are still enlisting ... seven thousand now, I
+understand."</p>
+<p>"Damn them!" said the lawyer, broodingly, "what d'ye think
+they'll be up to next?"</p>
+<p>"Don't damn them too much." Broderick's smile held a grim sort
+of humor. "They're going to break up a political organization it's
+taken me years to perfect. That ought to please you a little."</p>
+<p>McAllister laughed. The two men shook hands and parted. They
+were political enemies--McAllister of the Southern or "Chivalry"
+clan, which yearned to make a slave State out of California;
+Broderick an uncompromising Northerner and Abolitionist. Yet they
+respected one another, and a queer, almost secret friendship
+existed between them. Farther down the street Broderick met Benito.
+"I've just been talking with your boss," he said.</p>
+<p>"No longer," Windham informed him. "McAllister didn't like my
+Vigilante leanings. So we parted amiably enough. I'll study law on
+my own hook from now on. I've had a bit of good luck."</p>
+<p>"Ah," said the other. "Glad to hear it. An inheritance?"</p>
+<p>"Something like it," Windham answered. "Do you remember when I
+went to the mines I met a man named Burthen? Alice's father, you
+know. We had a mining claim together," His brow clouded. "He was
+murdered at the Eldorado.... Well, that's neither here nor
+there.... But it left me the claim. I didn't think it was worth
+much. But I've sold it to an Eastern syndicate."</p>
+<p>"Good!" cried Broderick. "Congratulations."</p>
+<p>They shook hands. "Ten thousand," Benito informed him. "We've
+had an offer for the ranch, too. Company wants to make it into
+small allotments.... Think of that! A few years ago we were far in
+the country. Now it's suburban property. They're even talking of
+street cars."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>At Vigilante Headquarters Benito found unusual activity. Drays
+were backing up to the doors, unloading bedding, cots, a number of
+cook-stoves. Men were carrying in provisions. Coleman came out with
+Bluxome. They surveyed the work a moment, chatting earnestly, then
+parted.</p>
+<p>"We're equipping a commissary and barracks," thus a member
+informed Benito. "Doesn't look much like disbanding, does it? The
+Chivs. think we're through. No such luck. This is costing me $50 a
+day in my business," he sighed. "We've got a dozen blacklegs,
+shoulder-strikers and ballot-stuffers in there now, awaiting trial.
+We've turned all the petty offenders over to the police."</p>
+<p>Benito laughed. "And have you noticed this: The Police Courts
+are convicting every single one of them promptly!"</p>
+<p>"Yes, they're learning their lessons ... but we've trouble
+ahead. These Southerners and politicians have the Governor in their
+pocket. He's sent two men to Washington to ask the President for
+troops. Farragut has been asked to bombard the city. He's refused.
+But General Wool has promised them arms from Benicia if the
+Governor and Sherman prove that anarchy exists."</p>
+<p>"They can't," Benito contended.</p>
+<p>"Not by fair means, no.... But that won't stop them. Yesterday
+Chief Justice Terry of the Supreme Court issued a habeas corpus
+writ for Billy Mulligan, Harrison came down today and served
+it."</p>
+<p>"What happened?" asked Benito, eagerly.</p>
+<p>"Well, the hotheads wanted to resist--to throw him out. But
+Bluxome saw through the scheme--to get us on record as defying
+Federal authority. So he hid Billy Mulligan and let Harrison
+search. Of course he found no one. We were politely regretful."</p>
+<p>"Which settles that," remarked Benito, chuckling.</p>
+<p>"Not so fast, old boy!" the other Vigilante cautioned.
+"Harrison's no fool. He couldn't go back outwitted.... So he simply
+lied. Wrote on the warrant, 'service resisted by force.'"</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>On the following day Major General Sherman of the State Militia
+received the following document, dated "Executive Department,
+Sacramento, June 2d, 1856":</p>
+<blockquote>Information having been received by me that an armed
+body of men are now organized in the City and County of San
+Francisco, in this State, in violation of law; and that they have
+resisted the due execution of law by preventing a service of a writ
+of habeas corpus duly issued; and that they are threatening other
+acts of violence and rebellion against the constitution and the
+laws of the State; you are hereby commanded to call upon such
+number as you may deem necessary of the enrolled militia, or those
+subject to military duty, also upon all the voluntary independent
+companies of the military division under your command--to report,
+organize, etc., and act with you in the enforcement of the law.<br>
+<br>
+J. NEELY JOHNSON.</blockquote>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Two days after the Governor's proclamation half a dozen of the
+prisoners in "Fort Gunnybags" were exiled by the Vigilance
+Committee. Each, after a regular and impartial trial, was found
+guilty of offenses against the law. The sentence was banishment,
+with death as the penalty for return. Under a strong guard of
+Vigilance Committee police the malodorous sextet were marched
+through town, and placed aboard the steamer Hercules. A squad of
+Vigilantes remained until the vessel left her dock to see that they
+did not escape. Thus did the Committee answer Governor Johnson's
+proclamation. The fortification of the Vigilante Headquarters went
+on. Hundreds of gunnysacks filled with sand were piled in front of
+the building as a protection against artillery fire. This continued
+for days until a barricade ten feet high and six feet thick had
+been erected with embrasures for cannon and a loop-holed platform
+for riflemen. Cannon were placed on the roof of the building where
+the old Monumental firebell had been installed as a tocsin of
+war.</p>
+<p>In the meantime Sherman was enrolling men. They came in rather
+fast, most of them law-breakers seeking protection, and a small
+minority of reputable citizens honestly opposed to Vigilante
+methods. But the armories were bare of rifles and ammunition.
+Sherman dispatched a hasty requisition to General Wool, reminding
+him of his promise. Days passed and no arms arrived. The new
+recruits were calling for them. Some of them drilled with wooden
+staves and were laughed at. They quit in disgust. Then Sherman went
+to Sacramento. Something was wrong. Johnson, nervous and
+distraught, showed him a letter from General Wool. It was briefly
+and politely to the effect that he had no authority to issue arms
+without a permit from the War Department.</p>
+<p>Sherman, always for action, seized his hat. "Come," he said, as
+though the Governor were a subaltern. "We'll go to Benicia. We must
+have a talk with General Wool." And the Governor went.</p>
+<p>But Wool, though courteous, proved obdurate. The militia
+remained unarmed.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVIII"></a>CHAPTER XLVIII</h2>
+<h3>SHERMAN RESIGNS</h3>
+<br>
+<p>On Saturday, June 7, Benito found Coleman sitting at his desk in
+the executive chamber of Fort Gunnysacks. His usually cheerful
+countenance wore an anxious look, a look of inner conflict. He
+glanced up, almost startled, as Benito entered.</p>
+<p>"Fred Macondray and his party are outside," said Windham. "They
+would like to see you."</p>
+<p>"What do they wish?" asked Coleman in a harassed tone.</p>
+<p>"They're leaving for Benicia today to see the Governor," Benito
+answered. "Want your final word on mediation matters."</p>
+<p>Coleman rose with a brisk movement. He paced the room half a
+dozen times, his hands behind him, his head slightly bent, before
+he spoke.</p>
+<p>"Bring 'em in. Call Bluxome and as many of the Executive
+Committee as you can find."</p>
+<p>Benito departed. Presently there filed into the room nine
+gentlemen, headed by Macondray. They belonged neither to the
+Vigilantes nor to the Law and Order Party. And they were now bent
+on averting a clash between the two.</p>
+<p>"William," Macondray, acting as the spokesman, "what message
+shall we take the Governor?"</p>
+<p>Bluxome, Smiley, Dempster and others of the Executive Committee
+entered. Coleman explained to them the purpose of Macondray and his
+friends. "What shall we say to them, boys?" he asked.</p>
+<p>"Put it in your own words," Bluxome said. "We'll stand by what
+you say."</p>
+<p>Coleman faced Macondray and his companions. "Tell J. Neely
+Johnson," he announced, "that if he will consent to withdraw his
+proclamation we will, on our part, make no further parade of our
+forces on the street, nor will we resist by force any orders of the
+court."</p>
+<p>Bluxome and his companions nodded. Macondray looked a trifle
+puzzled. "Suppose he declines to withdraw the proclamation?" he
+asked, hesitatingly.</p>
+<p>"Then," the voice of Coleman rang, "we promise nothing."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>On the boat which took them to Benicia, Macondray and his
+friends met Major-General Sherman of the State Militia. They found
+him striding up and down the deck, chewing his cigar. Macondray and
+he compared notes. Sherman had been summoned for an interview with
+Johnson. The Governor planned a final onslaught of persuasion,
+hoping General Wool would change his mind; would furnish arms for
+the militia.</p>
+<p>"If he doesn't, it's useless. Men can't fight without guns."
+Macondray thought he noted an undertone of relief in Sherman's
+words.</p>
+<p>"Do you think he'll give them to you?" Macondray asked in an
+undertone. Sherman slowly shook his head. He walked away, as though
+he dreaded further questioning.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>At Benicia, Sherman and the Macondray party rode up in the same
+'bus to the Solano House. Sherman was admitted at once. The
+committee was asked to wait. Sherman entered a room blue with
+tobacco smoke. It contained four men, besides the Governor: Chief
+Justice David S. Terry, a tall man with a hard face, sat tilted
+back in a chair, his feet on the Governor's table. He had not taken
+off his hat. Without moving or apparently looking in that
+direction, he spat at regular intervals toward the fireplace. Near
+him sat Edward S. Baker, statesmanlike, impressive, despite his
+drink-befuddlement; Edward Jones, of Palmer, Cook &amp; Co.,
+smaller, shrewd, keen and avaricious-eyed, was pouring a drink from
+a decanter; Volney Howard, fat, pompous, aping a blas&eacute;,
+decadent manner, stood, as usual, near the mantel.</p>
+<p>They all looked up as Sherman entered. Terry favored him with a
+half-concealed scowl; Howard with an open sneer; Jones with
+deprecating hostility. Baker smiled. The Governor, who seemed each
+day to grow more nervous and irritable, held out his hand.</p>
+<p>"Well, well, Sherman," he greeted, "glad to see you." Then his
+brow knit in a kind of puzzled provocation. "What's that Vigilante
+Committee doing here with you?"</p>
+<p>Terry grunted and spat. Sherman looked them over with a
+repulsion he could not completely conceal. They were men of violent
+prejudices. It was bad to see the Governor so completely in their
+grasp.</p>
+<p>"They are not Vigilantes, your Excellency," he began with
+punctilious hauteur.</p>
+<p>"The hell they're not!" said Terry.</p>
+<p>Sherman ignored him completely. "My meeting with them was purely
+casual," he resumed. "They are prominent, impartial citizens of San
+Francisco, seeking to make peace. They have, I understand, seen
+Coleman; are prepared to offer certain compromises."</p>
+<p>"Aha!" cried Howard, "the rabble is caving in. They're ready to
+quit."</p>
+<p>Johnson looked at Sherman as if for confirmation. He shook his
+head. "Far from it."</p>
+<p>"Cannot they state their business in writing?" asked
+Johnson.</p>
+<p>"Send them packing, the damned pork merchants!" Terry said, as
+if issuing a command.</p>
+<p>Again the Governor seemed to hesitate. Again his glance sought
+Sherman's. "That would be unwise," returned the soldier.</p>
+<p>The Governor summoned a clerk. "Ask the committee to put their
+business in writing!" he ordered. When the man had gone he once
+more addressed Sherman: "Wool absolutely refuses to provide the
+militia with arms."</p>
+<p>Terry's fist smote the table with a crash. A stream of
+vituperation issued from his lips. General Wool, the Vigilance
+Committee and Admiral Farragut were vilified in terms so crude that
+even the other men surveyed the Chief Justice with distaste.</p>
+<p>Sherman turned to the door. "Governor, I've had enough of this,"
+he spoke sharply. "I shall send you my resignation tonight." He
+went out, leaving Johnson to mutter distressedly. "Never mind,"
+said Terry, "give his job to Volney. He'll drive the damned pork
+merchants into the sea."</p>
+<p>"What about rifles and ammunition?" asked Howard with sudden
+practicality.</p>
+<p>They looked at each other blankly. Then the wily Jones came
+forward with a shrewd suggestion. "Wool can't refuse you the
+regular quota of arms for annual replenishment," he said. "Get
+those by requisition. Ship them down to San Francisco. Reub Maloney
+is here. He'll carry them down in a sloop."</p>
+<p>"But they're only a few hundred guns," said the Governor.</p>
+<p>"They'll help," contended Jones. "They'll make a showing."</p>
+<p>"Suppose Coleman hears about it; he'll seize them on the
+bay."</p>
+<p>"Then he'll commit an act of 'piracy'," Baker said,
+explosively.</p>
+<p>Terry took his feet from the table, rose. "By God!" he
+exclaimed, "there's an idea! Piracy! A capital offense!" He crammed
+his hands into his pockets and strode heavily up and down.</p>
+<p>"Coleman's not likely to hear of our sending these arms," said
+the Governor.</p>
+<p>Jones poured another drink and sipped it. "Isn't he, though?" He
+laughed softly. "You fellows just leave that to me." He caught up
+his hat and went out.</p>
+<p>"A smart little man," remarked Howard Baker, complacently.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIX"></a>CHAPTER XLIX</h2>
+<h3>TERRY STABS HOPKINS</h3>
+<br>
+<p>The peace-makers took an early boat for San Francisco. They were
+hopelessly alienated from the Law and Order Party. After some
+deliberation they decided to call a mass meeting in front of the
+Oriental Hotel. Thus they hoped to make the Vigilante sentiment
+practically unanimous and request through popular acclaim, a
+withdrawal of the Governor's proclamation.</p>
+<p>Early on June 14, the day appointed, citizens began to gather at
+Bush and Battery streets; by noon they blocked both thoroughfares
+and overflowed into Market street. Each window, roof and balcony
+near by was filled. Women in their summer finery lent gay splashes
+of color, waved parasols or handkerchiefs excitedly at their
+acquaintances below.</p>
+<p>Inez Windham called to David Broderick, who was passing,
+"There's room for one more on our balcony. Come up." As he stood
+behind her in the window, stooping a little, she looked eagerly
+into his careworn face. "One might think it was a circus." He
+smiled.</p>
+<p>"You remind me of champagne, you San Franciscans. The inherent
+quality of you is sparkle.... Even if an earthquake came along and
+swallowed you, I think you'd go down with that same light, laughing
+nonchalance."</p>
+<p>Mrs. Stanley made a moue at him. "You find us--different from
+your Eastern ladies, Mr. Broderick?" she asked expectantly.</p>
+<p>He considered for a moment. "Sometimes I think it is the land
+more than the women. They come from everywhere--with all their
+varied prejudices, modes, conventions. But, after a time, they
+become Californians--like you."</p>
+<p>"That's what Benito says," returned his sister. "He's daft about
+San Francisco. He calls it his Golden City. I think"--she leaned
+nearer, "but you must not say I told you--I think he has written
+poetry about it."</p>
+<p>"Ah, yes," said Broderick, "he has that strain. And how is
+Alice?"</p>
+<p>"Alice is well," he heard Inez say. Then a great shout from the
+street silenced their converse. Colonel Bailie Peyton was
+speaking.</p>
+<p>"We are here to consider principles of the first magnitude and
+which may result in the shedding of innocent blood. One of the
+objects of this meeting is to prevent so dire a calamity.</p>
+<p>"The Vigilance Committee must be sustained or put down. If they
+are put down it must be at the point of the bayonet. The question
+is whether we shall appeal to the Governor to put them down in this
+way, or whether we shall ask him to withdraw his opposition."</p>
+<p>He looked up at the balconies across the street.</p>
+<p>"The Vigilance Committeemen have the prayers of the churches on
+their side, and the smiles of the ladies--God bless them."</p>
+<p>There were cheers and applause.</p>
+<p>Again his voice rose to crescendo:</p>
+<p>"Let us show the Governor that if he fights the Committee he
+will have to walk over more dead bodies than can be disposed of in
+the cemetery. Let us indorse all the Committeemen have done. Let us
+be ready to fight for them if necessary."</p>
+<p>The crowd broke into wild huzzas. Volney Howard and Richard
+Ashe, the naval officer, paused on a near-by corner, attracted by
+the uproar. Howard scowled and muttered something about "damned
+pork merchants," but he looked uneasy.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>The Vigilance Committee, undaunted by Governor Johnson's
+proclamation or the efforts of the Law and Order element, continued
+quietly the work of ridding San Francisco of its criminals and
+undesirables.</p>
+<p>On June 10 the National Guard of San Francisco disbanded and
+Marshal Hampton North resigned. Rumor had it that the Vigilance
+Committee's work was finished. On July 4 they would disband with a
+great public demonstration, it was rumored. Coleman did not deny
+this.</p>
+<p>On July 19 came news that rifles and ammunition were being
+shipped from Benicia; Wool was said at last to have capitulated.
+But it turned out to be a small annual replenishment order of 130
+muskets with a few rounds of powder and ball. Later came the
+exciting rumors that John Durkee, Charles Rand and a crew of ten
+men had captured the sloop carrying these arms on the bay; had
+arrested Reuben Maloney, John Phillips and a man named McNab. The
+arms were brought to Committee Headquarters in San Francisco. On
+arrival there, perhaps through oversight, the prisoners were
+released.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>The Vigilance Committee made two serious mistakes. They fell
+into the Law and Order trap by committing an act of technical
+piracy. From this Durkee saved them by taking upon himself the
+legal onus of the seizure. The second error, though a minor one,
+proved much more serious. They sent Sterling Hopkins, a
+vainglorious, witless, overzealous wight, to rearrest Maloney.
+Coleman was not responsible for this; nor were the Vigilantes in a
+larger sense, for a few hotheads in temporary command issued the
+order. Hopkins, glorying in the quest, for any errand of authority
+made him big with pride, set out alone to execute it. He found
+Maloney in the office of Dr. Richard P. Ashe, United States naval
+agent. Ashe was companioned by adherents of the Law and Order
+faction, among them Justice David S. Terry.</p>
+<p>Pushing the doorkeeper rudely aside, Hopkins entered the room.
+"Come with me, Reub Maloney," he commanded, "you're under
+arrest."</p>
+<p>Maloney shrank into a corner. Ashe stepped in the constable's
+path. "Get out of here!" he thundered. "As a Federal officer I
+order you to begone!"</p>
+<p>"And I, as a judge and a Southern gentleman, will kick you out,
+suh." Judge Terry moved menacing forward. His eyes flashed. Several
+others joined him. They took Hopkins by the shoulders and pushed
+him none too gently out of the room. The door closed. He stood for
+a moment in the hall, muttering in his outraged dignity. Then he
+turned and ran toward Fort Vigilance.</p>
+<p>"We've scared the dirty peddler," Ashe said, as they watched his
+flying footsteps from a window.</p>
+<p>"He's gone for reinforcements," said another. "Let's get out of
+here. The Blues' armory is better." There was some argument.
+Finally, however, armed with pistols, they sought the street,
+forming a guard around Maloney. But they had not proceeded far down
+Jackson street when Hopkins came upon them with nine men. Both
+parties halted, Judge Terry standing in front of the prisoner;
+Hopkins, who was no coward for all his pompous tactlessness,
+advanced determinedly. He reached around the Judge and clutched at
+Maloney's arm. "I arrest you in the name of the Committee."</p>
+<p>"To hell with your Committee!" shouted Terry. He struck Hopkins'
+arm away and poked a derringer in the policeman's face.</p>
+<p>Hopkins countered; the pistol went flying. Terry staggered back,
+while Hopkins made another clutch at his intended prisoner.</p>
+<p>Then occurred, with lightning speed, an unexpected thing. Terry,
+recovering his balance, sprang forward, drew the bowie knife he
+always carried and plunged it, with a vicious thrust, into Hopkins'
+neck.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_L"></a>CHAPTER L</h2>
+<h3>THE COMMITTEE DISBANDS</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Alice Windham and her little son, named Robert for his
+grandfather, were passing Coleman's store, en route to Benito's
+office; it was a pleasant, quiet afternoon, almost windless. The
+infant Robert toddled manfully along on his five-year legs, holding
+tightly to his mother's hand.</p>
+<p>Men began to rush by, jostling them in their haste. The child
+drew closer to his mother. More men passed. Some of them were
+carrying guns. Coleman, emerging hurriedly, stopped at sight of
+Mrs. Windham.</p>
+<p>"Better go inside," he advised, "there's trouble afoot." He
+picked up the now frightened child and escorted the mother to his
+office. "Sit down," he invited. "It's comfortable here ... and
+safe."</p>
+<p>Before she could thank him he was off. At the door Miers Truett
+hailed him. "Hopkins stabbed," she heard him pant. He had been
+running. "May die ... Terry did it."</p>
+<p>They went off together. Other men stood in the doorway. "By the
+Eternal!" one was saying. "A Judge of the Supreme Court! What will
+Coleman do? They can't arrest Terry."</p>
+<p>There was a silence. Then the Monumental Fire Engine bell began
+to toll. "Come on," the second man spoke with a kind of thrill.
+"That's Coleman's answer."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Terry, Ashe and their companions ran pell mell up Jackson street
+until they reached the armory of the San Francisco Blues. It was
+rather an ornate building, guarded by iron doors. These stood open
+as the fugitives entered, but were immediately closed and guarded
+by a posse of pursuing Vigilantes, effectually preventing Law and
+Order reinforcements from the outside.</p>
+<p>Meanwhile the wounded Hopkins, screaming that he was murdered,
+had been carried into the Pennsylvania Engine House close by. Dr.
+Beverly Cole, the Vigilante surgeon chief, was summoned and
+pronounced the wound a serious one. Thereupon the bell was
+tolled.</p>
+<p>Half an hour later several thousand men under Marshal Doane
+marched to the armory. In front of it he drew up his forces and
+knocked on the inner portal.</p>
+<p>"What d'ye want?" came the heavy bass of David Terry, a little
+less arrogant than usual.</p>
+<p>"The committee has ordered the arrest of yourself and your
+party," answered Doane. "Will you come quietly?"</p>
+<p>There was excited murmuring; then Terry's heavy tones once more:
+"Do you mean that you will attack the person of a Supreme Court
+Justice?" he asked half incredulous.</p>
+<p>"We will arrest all those who commit or attempt murder."</p>
+<p>More whispering.</p>
+<p>"Very well," said Terry. "I will not subject my friends to
+violence.... But I warn you that the consequences will be
+serious."</p>
+<p>Doane ignored this, waiting quietly until the door was opened.
+Then he detailed a guard for the prisoners. At 4 o'clock--an hour
+after Hopkins had been wounded--Terry, Ashe and half a dozen others
+were locked in cells at Fort Vigilance. Once more the town was
+quiet.</p>
+<p>"It is all over," Benito told his wife, whom he found in
+Coleman's office. "We can go home now." Little Robert slept. His
+mother picked him up gently.</p>
+<p>"What will they do with Judge Terry?" she asked in an excited
+whisper.</p>
+<p>"If Hopkins dies they'll hang him sure as shooting," said
+Benito.</p>
+<p>Sterling Hopkins did not die, despite the serious nature of his
+wound. Had he done so many a different chapter might have been
+recorded in the history of San Francisco. Hopkins lived to pass
+into inconsequence. Terry was released to wreak once more his
+violent hatred on a fellow being, to perish in a third and final
+outburst of that savagery which marred his whole career.</p>
+<p>Captain Ashe and others taken in the Terry raid were soon
+released upon parole. The Supreme Court Judge remained a prisoner
+in Fort Vigilance for many weeks.</p>
+<p>After days and nights of wrestling with the situation, the
+Committee judged the prisoner guilty of assault. As the usual
+punishment within their power to inflict was not applicable in this
+case, the prisoner was discharged. It was pointedly suggested that
+the best interests of the State demanded his resignation. To this,
+however, Terry paid no heed.</p>
+<p>Broderick, who had been out of town, campaigning, met Ike
+Bluxome on Montgomery street.</p>
+<p>"I thought you folks were going to disband," he spoke
+half-banteringly. And Bluxome answered with, his usual gravity. "We
+thought so, too ... but Terry jumped into the picture. Now he's
+boasting that the Committee didn't dare to hold him longer."
+Bluxome smiled faintly. "He was meek enough till Hopkins had
+recovered ... offered to resign and quit the State forever."</p>
+<p>"I believe in Terry," Broderick remarked. "He's quarrelsome, but
+brave--and honest as a judge. I spent a lot of money in a newspaper
+fight to help him through this mess."</p>
+<p>Bluxome eyed him keenly. "Yes, I know you did. I know you were
+sincere, too, Broderick. That's why we didn't bother you for
+bribing the editors. But you will get no thanks from Terry. He's
+against you on the slavery question. He'd kill you tomorrow if he
+got a chance. You or any other man that's in his way. Watch out for
+him."</p>
+<p>"Nonsense," said Broderick, and walked away.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>On August 18th the Vigilantes paraded for the last time. There
+were four artillery batteries with an armament of fifteen cannon.
+Then came the Executive Committee followed by two companies of
+dragoons, each preceded by a band; the medical staff of fifty
+members, the Committee of 1851, some half a hundred strong, and
+four regiments of infantry.</p>
+<p>San Francisco was ablaze with decorations, vibrant with
+enthusiasm. Men, women, children, turned out to do the Vigilantes
+honor. A float symbolic of Fort Gunnybags was wildly cheered.</p>
+<p>Benito Windham, Adrian Stanley and their families stood at the
+window of an office which had "B. Windham, Attorney and Counselor,"
+inscribed upon its door. Benito had but recently passed his law
+examination and Alice was accordingly proud.</p>
+<p>Broderick, who stood near her with an arm about young Robert,
+looked out at the pageant.</p>
+<p>"They have been my enemies," he said, "but I take off my hat to
+your Committee. They have done a wondrous work, Benito lad."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LI"></a>CHAPTER LI</h2>
+<h3>SENATOR BRODERICK</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Swept clear of its lesser rascals, San Francisco still,
+ostensibly, was ruled by Freelon, Scannell, Byrne and other
+officials of the former city government, who had defied the
+people's invitation to resign. They did little more than mark time,
+however. Jury-packing was at an end for the Committee had posted
+publicly the names of men unfit to judge their fellows, and the
+courts had wisely failed to place them on venires.</p>
+<p>"Wait till November," was the watchword. And San Francisco
+waited. A committee of twenty-one was appointed at a mass meeting
+shortly before the city election. By this body were selected
+candidates for all municipal offices. Their ticket was the most
+diversified, perhaps, that ever was presented to a city's voters,
+for it included northern and southern men, Republicans, Democrats,
+Know-Nothings, Jews, Catholics and Protestants. Yet there was an
+extraordinary basic homogeneity about them. All were honest and
+respected business men, pledged to serve the city faithfully and
+selflessly. Former Marshal Doane of Vigilante fame was chosen as
+chief of police.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Broderick was the Windhams' guest at their new home on Powell
+street overlooking the bay when Benito's clerk brought them news of
+the election.</p>
+<p>"Every reform candidate wins by a landslide," cried the youth
+enthusiastically. "I cast my first vote today, Mr. Windham," he
+said proudly, "and I'm glad to know that the ballot-box had no
+false bottom." He turned to Broderick. "Your men fared mighty well
+too, sir, considering--" He paused and reddened, but the politician
+clapped him, laughing, on the shoulder. "That's right, my boy. Be
+honest," he declared.</p>
+<p>"It means you'll be our Senator next year," the lad said
+staunchly, holding out his hand. "They're all saying so down town.
+Allow me to congratulate you, sir."</p>
+<p>The keen, half-smiling eyes of Broderick took stock of Herbert
+Waters. Tall, shy and awkward, with a countenance fresh, unmarked,
+but eager and alert with clean ideals.</p>
+<p>"Thank you, son," he pressed the lad's hand vigorously. "Perhaps
+... if I should get to Washington, there'll be a place for you.
+You'll like it, wouldn't you? To see a little of the world?"</p>
+<p>"Would I?" cried the youth, delighted. "Try me." He departed,
+treading on air. Alice Windham shook a finger at her guest. "Dave,
+you mustn't trifle with our little prot&eacute;g&eacute;.... But
+you did it charmingly. Tell me, will you have to go about now,
+kissing babies and all that sort of thing?"</p>
+<p>"No doubt," he answered gaily. "So I'll practice on your little
+Bob." He caught the child up in his arms. "Got a kiss for Uncle
+Dave?" he asked.</p>
+<p>Robert's response was instant and vehement. Laughing, Broderick
+took from an inner pocket a long and slender parcel, which he
+unwrapped with tantalizing slowness. It revealed at last a gaily
+painted monkey-on-a-stick which clambered up and down with
+marvelous agility when Broderick pulled a string.</p>
+<p>"This, my little man," he said half soberly, "is how we play the
+game of politics." He made the jointed figure race from top to
+bottom while his eyes were rather grim. "Here, you try it, Bobbie,"
+he said. "I've played with it long enough."</p>
+<p>Broderick came to them aglow with triumph. He was a big man now,
+a national figure. Only a short time ago he had been a discredited
+boss of municipal politics. Now he was going to Washington. He had
+made William Gwin, the magnificent, do homage. He had all of the
+federal patronage for California. For years it had gone to Southern
+men. San Francisco's governmental offices had long been known as
+"The Virginia Poorhouse." Now its plums would be apportioned to the
+politicians of the North.</p>
+<p>Everywhere one heard the praise of Broderick's astuteness. He
+had a way of making loyal friends. A train of them had followed him
+through years of more or less continuous defeat and now they were
+rejoicing in the prospect of reward.</p>
+<p>He was explaining this to Alice. Trying to at least. "One has to
+pay his debts," he told her. "These men have worked for me as hard
+as any factory slaves. And without any definite certainty of
+compensation. Do you remember young Waters who came here last
+December to congratulate me? Yes, of course, he was Benito's clerk.
+I'd forgotten that. Well, what did that young rascal do but grow a
+beard and hire out as a waiter in the Magnolia Hotel. He overheard
+some plots against me in a corner of the dining room. And thus we
+were prepared to checkmate all the movements of the enemy.... I
+call that smart. I'll see that he gets a good berth. A senate
+clerkship. Something of the sort."</p>
+<p>"When do you leave?" asked Alice quickly.</p>
+<p>"Tomorrow.... Gwin is going also. I'll stop over in New York."
+He smiled at her. "When I left there I told my friends I'd not
+return until I was a senator. Eight years ago that was.... And now
+I'm making good my promise." He laughed boyishly.</p>
+<p>"You're very happy over it, aren't you, Dave?" she said with a
+shadow of wistfulness.</p>
+<p>"Why, yes, to be sure," he answered. His eyes held hers. "I'll
+miss you, of course.... All of you." He spoke with a touch of
+restraint.</p>
+<p>"And we'll miss YOU." She said more brightly, "I know you will
+do us much honor ... there in the nation's capital." Her hand went
+half way out toward him and drew back. "You'll fight always ... for
+the right alone ... Dave Broderick."</p>
+<p>He took a step toward her. "By God! I will promise you that. I'm
+through with ward politics, with tricks and intriguing. I'm going
+to fight for Freedom ... against Slavery. They're trying to fasten
+Slavery onto Kansas. President Buchanan is a Pennsylvanian but he's
+dominated by the Southern men. Washington is dominated by them.
+There aren't more than half a dozen who are not afraid of them." He
+drew himself up. "But I'm one. Douglas of Illinois is another. And
+Seward of New York. I've heard from them. We stand together."</p>
+<p>He laughed a shade bitterly. "It's difficult to fancy, isn't it?
+Dave Broderick, the son of a stone mason, a former fireman,
+bartender, ward-boss--fighting for an ideal? Against the Solid
+South?"</p>
+<p>She came closer. "Dave, you must not say such things." She
+looked about her. They were alone in the room, for Benito had gone
+out with Robert. "Dave, we're proud of you.... And I--I shall
+always see you, standing in the Senate Chamber, battling, like a
+Knight of Old...."</p>
+<p>Her face was upturned to his. His hands clenched themselves.
+With a swift movement he caught up his hat and stick. Fled from the
+house without a good-bye.</p>
+<p>As he went down the hill with long strides, his mind was torn
+between a fierce pride in his proven strength and a heart-wrecked
+yearning.</p>
+<p>He started the next morning for Washington.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LII"></a>CHAPTER LII</h2>
+<h3>A TRIP TO CHINATOWN</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Samuel Brannan brought the first news from Washington. Gwin, who
+owed his place to Broderick, had after all betrayed him. The
+bargained-for double patronage was not forthcoming. Broderick was
+grievously disappointed in Buchanan. There had been a clash between
+them. No Democratic Senator, the President had said, could quarrel
+profitably with the Administration. Which meant that Broderick must
+sustain the Lecompton Resolution or lose face and favor in the
+nation's forum. Things were at a bitter pass.</p>
+<p>"What's the Lecompton Resolution?" Alice asked.</p>
+<p>"It's a long story," Brannan answered. "In brief, it means
+forcing slavery on Kansas, whose people don't want it. And on the
+Lecompton Resolution hinges more or less the balance of power,
+which will keep us, here, in the free States, or give us, bound and
+gagged, to the South."</p>
+<p>"And you say Gwin has repudiated his pact?"</p>
+<p>"Either that ... or Buchanan has refused to sanction it. The
+result is the same. David doesn't get his patronage."</p>
+<p>"I'm glad! I'm glad!" cried Alice.</p>
+<p>Brannan looked at her astonished. "But ... you don't know what
+it means. His men, awaiting their political rewards! His
+organization here ... it will be weakened. You don't understand,
+Mrs. Windham."</p>
+<p>"I don't care," she said. "It leaves him--cleaner--stronger!"
+She turned swiftly and left the room. Brannan shrugged his
+shoulders. "There's no fathoming women," he thought.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>But Broderick, in far Washington, understood when there came to
+him a letter. It bore neither signature nor salutation:</p>
+<p>"When one is stripped of weapons--sometimes it is by the will of
+God! And He does not fail to give us better ones.</p>
+<p>"Truth! Righteousness! Courage to attack all Evil. These are
+mightier than the weapons of the World.</p>
+<p>"Oh, my friend, stand fast! You are never alone. The spirit of
+another is forever with you. Watching--waiting--knowing you shall
+win the victory which transcends all price."</p>
+<p>He read this letter endlessly while people waited in his
+ante-room. Then he summoned Herbert Waters, now his secretary, and
+sent them all away. Among them was a leader of the New York
+money-powers who never forgave that slight; another was an emissary
+of the President. Broderick neither knew nor cared. He put the
+letter in his pocket; walked for hours in the snow, on the banks of
+the frozen Potomac.</p>
+<p>That afternoon he reviewed the situation, was closeted an hour
+with Douglas of Illinois. The two of them sought Seward of New
+York, who had just arrived. To their conference came Chase and Wade
+of Ohio, Trumbull of Illinois, Fessenden of Maine, Wilson of
+Massachusetts, Cameron of Pennsylvania.</p>
+<p>Soon thereafter Volney Howard in San Francisco received an
+unsigned telegram, supposedly from Gwin:</p>
+<p>Unexpected gathering anti-slavery forces. Looks bad for
+Lecompton Resolution. President worried about California.</p>
+<p>In the southeastern part of San Francisco a few tea and silk
+merchants had, years before, established the nucleus of an Oriental
+quarter. Gradually it had grown until there were provision shops
+where queer-looking dried vegetables, oysters strung necklace-wise
+on rings of bamboo, eggs preserved in a kind of brown mold, strange
+brown nuts and sweetmeats were displayed; there were drugs-shops
+with wondrous gold and ebony fret work, temples with squat gods
+above amazing shrines.</p>
+<p>There were stark-odored fish-stalls in alleyways so narrow that
+the sun touched them rarely, barred upper-windows from which the
+faces of slant-eyed women peeped in eager wistfulness as if upon an
+unfamiliar world. Cellar doorways from which slipper-shod,
+pasty-faced Cantonese crept furtively at dawn; sentineled portals,
+which gave ingress to gambling houses protected by sheet-iron
+doors.</p>
+<p>On a pleasant Sunday, early in February, Benito, Alice, Adrian
+and Inez walked in Chinatown with David Broderick. The latter was
+about to leave for Washington to attend his second session in
+Congress. Things had fared ill with him politically there and at
+home.</p>
+<p>Just now David Broderick was trying to forget Congress and those
+battles which the next few weeks were sure to bring. He wanted to
+carry with him to Washington the memory of Alice Windham as she
+walked beside him in the mellow Winter sunshine. An odor of fruit
+blossoms came to them almost unreally sweet, and farther down the
+street they saw many little street-stands where flowering branches
+of prune and almond were displayed.</p>
+<p>"It's their New Year festival," Adrian explained. "Come, we'll
+visit some of the shops; they'll give us tea and cakes, for that's
+their custom."</p>
+<p>"How interesting!" remarked Inez. She shook hands cordially with
+a grave, handsomely gowned Chinese merchant, whose emporium they
+now entered. To her astonishment he greeted her in perfect English.
+"A graduate of Harvard College," Broderick whispered in her
+ear.</p>
+<p>Wong Lee brought forward a tray on which was an assortment of
+strange sweetmeats in little porcelain dishes; he poured from a
+large tea-pot a tiny bowl of tea for each of his visitors. While
+they drank and nibbled at the candy he pressed his hands together,
+moved them up and down and bowed low as a visitor entered; the
+latter soon departed, apparently abashed by the Americans.</p>
+<p>"He would not mingle with the 'foreign devils,'" Broderick
+smiled. "That was Chang Foo, who runs the Hall of Everlasting
+Fortune, wasn't it?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, the gambling house," Wong Lee answered. "A bad man," his
+voice sank to a whisper. "Chief of the Hip Lee tong, for the
+protection of the trade in slave women. He came, no doubt, to
+threaten me because I am harboring a Christian convert. See," he
+opened a drawer and took therefrom a rectangle of red paper. "Last
+night this was found on my door. It reads something like this:</p>
+<p>"Withdraw your shelter from the renegade Po Lun, who renounces
+the gods of his fathers. Send him forth to meet his fate--lest the
+blade of an avenger cleave your meddling skull."</p>
+<p>"Po was a member of the Hip Yees when he was converted; they
+stole a Chinese maiden--his beloved and Po Sun hoped to rescue her.
+That is why he joined that band of rascals."</p>
+<p>"And did he succeed?" asked Alice.</p>
+<p>"No," Wong Lee sighed. "They spirited her away--out of the city.
+She is doubtless in some slave house at Vancouver or Seattle. Poor
+Po! He is heartbroken."</p>
+<p>"And what of yourself; are you not in danger?" Broderick
+questioned.</p>
+<p>Wong smiled wanly. "Until the New Year season ends I am safe at
+any rate."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LIII"></a>CHAPTER LIII</h2>
+<h3>ENTER PO LUN</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Broderick returned to Washington; he wrote seldom, but the
+newspapers printed, now and then, extracts from his speeches. The
+Democrats were once more a dominating power and their organs
+naturally attacked the California Senator who defied both President
+and party; they asserted that Broderick was an ignorant boor, whose
+speeches were written for him by a journalist named Wilkes. But
+they did not explain how Broderick more than held his own in
+extemporaneous debate with the nation's seasoned orators. Many of
+these would have taken advantage of his inexperience, for he was
+the second youngest Senator in Congress. But he revealed a natural
+and disconcerting skill at verbal riposte which made him respected,
+if not feared by his opponents. One day, being harried by
+administration Senators, he struck back with a savagery which, for
+the moment, silenced them.</p>
+<p>The San Francisco papers--for that matter, all the journals of
+the nation--printed Broderick's words conspicuously. And, as they
+held with North or South, with Abolition or with Slavery, they
+praised or censured him.</p>
+<p>"I hope, in mercy to the boasted intelligence of this age, the
+historian, when writing the history of these times, will ascribe
+the attempt of the President to enforce the Lecompton resolution
+upon an unwilling people to the fading intellect, the petulant
+passion and the trembling dotage of an old man on the verge of the
+grave."</p>
+<p>"Buchanan will be furious," said Benito. "They say he's an old
+beau who wears a toupee and knee-breeches. All Washington that
+dares to do so will be laughing at him, especially the ladies."</p>
+<p>Benito returned from the office one foggy June evening with a
+copy of The Bulletin that contained a speech by Broderick. It was
+dusk and Alice had lighted the lamp to read the Washington dispatch
+as she always did with eager interest, when there came a light,
+almost stealthy knock at the door. Benito, rather startled, opened
+it. There stood a Chinese youth of about 18, wrapped in a huge
+disguising cloak. He bowed low several times, then held forth a
+letter addressed in brush-fashioned, India-ink letters to "B.
+Windham Esquire."</p>
+<p>Curiously he opened it and read:</p>
+<br>
+<p>"The hand of the 'avenger' has smitten. I have not long to live.
+Will you, in your honorable kindness, protect my nephew, Po Lun? He
+will make a good and faithful servant, requiting kindness with
+zeal. May the Lord of Heaven bless you."</p>
+<p>"WONG LEE."</p>
+<br>
+<p>Excitedly and with many gestures Po Lun described the killing of
+his uncle by a Hip Yee "hatchetman." But even in his dying hour
+Wong Lee had found means to protect a kinsman. Po Lun wept as he
+told of Wong Lee's goodness. Suddenly he knelt and touched his
+forehead three times to the floor at Alice's feet. "Missee, please,
+you let me stay?" he pleaded. "Po Lun plenty work. Washee, cookee,
+clean-em house." His glance strayed toward the cradle. "Takem care
+you' li'l boy."</p>
+<p>Benito glanced at Alice questioningly. "Would you--trust him?"
+he whispered.</p>
+<p>"Yes," she said impulsively. "He has a good face ... and we need
+a servant." She beckoned to Po Lun. "Come, I will show you the
+kitchen and a place to sleep."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Broderick came back from Washington and entered actively into
+the State campaign. He found its politics a hodge-podge of
+unsettled, bitter policies. The Republicans made overtures to him;
+they sought a coalition with the Anti-Lecompton Democrats as
+opposed to Chivalry or Solid South Democracy.</p>
+<p>Benito and Alice saw little of Broderick. He was here, there,
+everywhere, making impassioned, often violent speeches. Most of
+them were printed in the daily papers.</p>
+<p>"They'll be duelling soon," said Windham anxiously, as he read
+of Broderick's accusations of "The Lime Point Swindle," "The
+Mail-carrying Conspiracy," his reference to Gwin and Latham as "two
+great criminals," to the former, "dripping with corruption."</p>
+<p>Then came Judge Terry with an unprovoked attack on members of
+the Anti-Lecompton party. "They are the personal chattels of one
+man," he said, "a single individual whom they are ashamed of. They
+belong heart, soul, body and breeches to David C. Broderick. Afraid
+to acknowledge their master they call themselves Douglas
+Democrats.... Perhaps they sail under the flag of Douglas, but it
+is the Black Douglas, whose name is Frederick, not Stephen."</p>
+<p>Frederick Douglas was a negro. Therefore, Terry's accusation was
+the acme of insult and contumely, which a Southerner's imagination
+could devise. Broderick read it in a morning paper as he
+breakfasted with friends in the International Hotel and, wounded by
+the thrust from one he deemed a friend, spoke bitterly:</p>
+<p>"I have always said that Terry was the only honest man on the
+bench of a miserably corrupt court. But I take it all back. He is
+just as bad as the others."</p>
+<p>By some evil chance, D.W. Perley overheard that statement--which
+proceeded out of Broderick's momentary irritation. Perley was a man
+of small renown, a lawyer, politician and a whilom friend of Terry.
+Instantly he seized the opportunity to force a quarrel, and, in
+Terry's name, demanded "satisfaction." Broderick was half amused at
+first, but in the end retorted angrily. They parted in a violent
+altercation.</p>
+<p>"Dave," said Alice, as he dined with them that evening, "your're
+not going to fight this man?"</p>
+<p>"I shall ignore the fellow. I've written him that I fight with
+no one but my equal. He can make what he likes out of that. I've
+been in a duel or two. Nobody will question my courage."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Po Lun proved a model servitor, a careful nurse. Alice often
+left in his efficient hands her household tasks. Sometimes she and
+Benito took an outing of a Saturday afternoon, for there was now a
+pleasant drive down the Peninsula along the new San Bruno turnpike
+to San Mateo.</p>
+<p>The Windhams were returning from such a drive in the pleasant
+afternoon sunshine when a tumult of newsboys hawking an extra
+edition arrested them.</p>
+<p>"Big duel ... Broderick and Terry!" shrieked the "newsies."
+Benito stopped the horse and bought a paper, perusing the headlines
+feverishly. Alice leaned over his shoulder, her face white.
+Presently Benito faced her. "Terry's forced a fight on Dave," he
+said huskily. "They're to meet on Monday at the upper end of Lake
+Merced."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LIV"></a>CHAPTER LIV</h2>
+<h3>THE "FIELD OF HONOR"</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Chief of Police Burke lingered late in his office that Saturday
+afternoon. Twilight had passed into dusk, through which the street
+lamps were beginning to glimmer, leaping here and there into sudden
+luminance as the lamp-lighter made his rounds. Deep in the
+complexities of police reports Burke had scarcely noted the
+entrance of a police clerk who lighted the swinging lamp overhead.
+And he was only dimly aware of faint knocking at his door. It came
+a second, a third time before he roused himself. "Come in," he
+called, none too graciously.</p>
+<p>The door opened with an inrush of wind which caused his lamp to
+flicker. Before him stood a slight and well-gowned woman, heavily
+veiled. She was trembling. He looked at her expectantly, but she
+did not speak.</p>
+<p>"Please be seated, madam," said the chief of police.</p>
+<p>But she continued to stand. Presently words came to her. "Can
+you stop a duel? Will you?" Her hands went out in a gesture of
+supplication, involuntary, unstudiedly dramatic.</p>
+<p>"What do you mean?" he asked. "What duel?"</p>
+<p>"Senator Broderick ... Justice Terry," a wealth of hate was in
+her utterance of the second name. "They fight at sunrise Monday
+morning."</p>
+<p>"It's not our custom to--interfere in such cases," Burke said
+slowly. "What would you have me do? Arrest them?"</p>
+<p>"Anything," she cried. "Oh--ANYTHING!"</p>
+<p>He looked at her searchingly. "If you will raise your veil,
+madam, I will talk with you further. Otherwise I must bid you
+goodnight."</p>
+<p>For a moment she stood motionless. Then her hand went upward,
+stripped the covering from her features. "Now," she asked him, in a
+half-shamed whisper, "will you help me?"</p>
+<p>"Yes ... Mrs. Windham," said Burke.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>At daybreak on a raw, cold Monday morning, Broderick, with his
+seconds, Joe McKibben and Dave Colton, arrived at the upper end of
+Lake Merced. Terry and his seconds were already waiting. The
+principals, clad in long overcoats, did not salute each other.
+Broderick looked toward the sea. Terry stood implacable and silent,
+turning now and then to spit into the sun dried grass. The seconds
+conferred with each other. All seemed ready to begin when an
+officer, springing from a foam-flecked horse, rushed up to
+Broderick and shouted, "You are under arrest."</p>
+<p>Broderick turned half-bewildered. He was very tired, for he had
+not slept the night before. "Arrest?" he said blankly.</p>
+<p>"You and Justice Terry," said the officer; "I've warrants for ye
+both. Come along and no nonsense. This duel is stopped."</p>
+<p>Terry began an angry denunciation of the officer, but his
+seconds, Calhoun Benham and Colonel Thomas Hayes, persuaded him at
+length into a blustering submission. Principals and seconds,
+feeling like the actors in an ill-considered farce, rode off
+together. Later they were summoned to appear before Judge Coon.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>"The whole thing was a farce," Benito told his wife. "The case
+was dismissed. Our prosecuting counsel asked the judge to put them
+under bonds to keep the peace. But he refused."</p>
+<p>"Then the fight will go on?" asked Alice. Her face was
+white.</p>
+<p>"Doubtless," said Benito gloomily. "They say that Terry's been
+practicing with a pair of French pistols during the past two months
+and hopes to use them at the meeting. Old 'Natchez,' the gunsmith,
+tells me one's a tricky weapon ... discharges now and then before
+the trigger's pressed."</p>
+<p>"Why--that would be murder," Alice spoke aghast. "You must find
+David's seconds and warn them."</p>
+<p>"I've tried all afternoon to locate them ... they're hidden ...
+afraid of arrest."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Despite the secrecy with which the second meeting was arranged,
+some three score spectators were already assembled at the duelling
+ground when Broderick and Terry arrived. It was not far from where
+they had met on the previous morning, but no officer appeared to
+interrupt their combat. Both men looked nervous and worn,
+especially Broderick, who had spent the night in a flea-infested
+hut on the ocean shore at the suggestion of his seconds who feared
+further interference. Terry had fared better, being quartered at
+the farm house of a friend who provided breakfast and a flask of
+rum.</p>
+<p>The seconds tossed for position and those of Broderick won. The
+choice of pistols, too, was left to chance, which favored Terry.
+Joe McKibben thought he saw a smile light the faces of Benham and
+Hayes, a smile of secret understanding. The French pistols were
+produced and Hayes, with seeming care, selected one of them.
+McKibben took the other. He saw Benham whisper something to Terry
+as the latter grasped his weapon, saw the judge's eyes light with a
+sudden satisfaction.</p>
+<p>"You will fire between the words 'one' and 'two'," Colton
+announced crisply. "Are you ready, gentlemen?"</p>
+<p>Terry answered "Yes" immediately. Broderick, who was endeavoring
+to adjust the unfamiliar stock of the foreign pistol to his grasp,
+did not hear. McKibben repeated, "Are you ready, Dave?" in an
+undertone. Broderick looked up with nervous and apologetic haste,
+"Yes, yes, quite ready," he replied.</p>
+<p>"One," called Colton. Broderick's pistol spoke. Discharged
+apparently before aim could be taken; his bullet struck the ground
+at Terry's feet. Broderick, now defenseless, waited quietly. "Two,"
+the word came. Terry, who had taken careful aim, now fired.
+Broderick staggered, recovered himself. His face was distorted with
+pain. Slowly he sank to one knee; sidewise upon his elbow, then lay
+prone.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>It was Sunday, September 18th. In the plaza a catafalque had
+been erected, draped in black. Upon it stood a casket covered with
+flowers. An immense crowd was about it, strangely silent. Across
+the platform a constant stream of people filed, each stopping a
+moment to gaze at a face that lay still and peaceful, seemingly
+composed in sleep. It was a keen and striking face; the forehead
+bespoke intellect and high resolve; the jaw and chin indomitable;
+aggressive bravery. Over all there was a stamp of sadness and of
+loneliness that caught one's heart. Friends, political compatriots
+and erstwhile enemies paid David Broderick a final tribute as they
+passed; few without a twitching of the lips. Tears ran down the
+faces of both men and women. The crowd murmured. Then the splendid
+moving voice of Colonel Baker poured forth an oration like Mark
+Anthony above the bier of Caesar:</p>
+<blockquote>"Citizens of California: A Senator lies dead.... It is
+not fit that such a man should pass into the tomb unheralded; that
+such a life should steal, unnoticed, to its close. It is not fit
+that such a death should call forth no rebuke...."</blockquote>
+<p>His majestic voice rolled on, telling of Broderick's work, his
+character, devotion to the people. He assailed the practice of
+duelling, the bitter hatreds of a slave-impassioned South. His
+voice shook with emotion as he ended:</p>
+<blockquote>"Thus, O brave heart! we bear thee to thy rest. As in
+life no other voice so rung its trumpet blast upon the ear of
+freemen, so in death its echoes will reverberate amid our valleys
+and mountains until truth and valor cease to appeal to the human
+heart.<br>
+<br>
+<p>"Good friend! True hero! Hail and farewell."</p>
+</blockquote>
+<br>
+<a name="page260.jpg"></a>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/page260.jpg" width="85%" alt=
+""><br>
+<b>Terry, who had taken careful aim, now fired. Broderick
+staggered, recovered himself. Slowly he sank to one knee.</b></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LV"></a>CHAPTER LV</h2>
+<h3>THE SOUTHERN PLOT</h3>
+<br>
+<p>America stood on war's threshold. Even in the West one felt its
+imminence. The Republican victory had been like a slap in the face
+to slave-holding democracy. Its strongholds were secretly arming,
+mobilizing, drilling. And though Lincoln wisely held his
+peace--warned all the States which hummed with wild secession talk
+that their aggression alone could disrupt the Union--the wily
+Stanton, through the machinery of the War Department, prepared with
+quiet grimness for the coming struggle.</p>
+<p>Herbert Waters, after Broderick's death, returned to Windham's
+office. He was a full-fledged lawyer now, more of a partner than an
+employee. Waters was of Southern antecedents, a native of Kentucky,
+a friend, almost a prot&eacute;g&eacute;, of General Albert Sydney
+Johnson, commanding the military district of the Pacific.</p>
+<p>One evening in January, 1861, he dined with the Windhams. Early
+in the evening Benito was called out to the bedside of an ailing
+client, who desired him to write a will. After he was gone, young
+Waters turned to Alice.</p>
+<p>"You were a friend of Mr. Broderick's," he said impulsively. "He
+often spoke of you ... and once, not long before he died, he said
+to me: 'Herbert, when your soul's in trouble, go to Alice Windham
+...'"</p>
+<p>Mrs. Windham put aside her knitting rather hastily, rose and
+walked to the window. She made no answer.</p>
+<p>Presently the boy continued: "That time has come--now--Mrs.
+Windham."</p>
+<p>Alice crossed the room and laid a hand upon his shoulder.
+"Herbert! What's the matter?"</p>
+<p>His voice sank almost to a whisper. "There's a plot to overthrow
+the government in California. I'm a part of it.... I don't know
+what to do."</p>
+<p>"You don't mean ... you're a traitor?" she asked
+unbelievably.</p>
+<p>"I suppose I am or must be--to some one," he said wearily. "I'm
+caught in a net, Mrs. Windham. Will you help me get out? Advise me
+... as you did him. Oh, I know what you meant to Mr. Broderick.
+Your faith, your counsel!"</p>
+<p>"Please," said Alice sharply. "We won't speak of that. What can
+I do for YOU?"</p>
+<p>"I beg your pardon. I'm a thoughtless ass ... that's why I got
+into the pickle probably. They asked me to join...."</p>
+<p>"They? Who?" she asked. "Is he--Benito--?"</p>
+<p>"Oh, no, Benito's out of it completely. I'm a Southern boy, you
+know. That's why they let me in; a lot of them have money. A man we
+call 'The President' is our chief. And there's a committee of
+thirty, each of whom is pledged to organize a fighting force; a
+hundred men."</p>
+<p>Waters hesitated. "I took an oath to keep this all a secret ...
+but I'll trust you, Mrs. Windham. You've got to know something
+about it.... These men are hired desperadoes or adventurers. They
+know there's fighting to be done; they've no scruples.... Meanwhile
+they're well paid, ostensibly engaged in various peaceful
+occupations all around the bay. When our President gives the order
+they'll be massed--three thousand of 'em; well armed,
+drilled--professional fighters. You can see what'll happen...."</p>
+<p>"You mean they'll seize the forts ... deliver us to the enemy?"
+she spoke aghast.</p>
+<p>"I'm afraid you're right, Mrs. Windham."</p>
+<p>"Has your--ah--society approached General Johnson?"</p>
+<p>"Not yet--they're a little afraid of him."</p>
+<p>Alice Windham thought a moment. "When is your next meeting?"</p>
+<p>"Tomorrow. We are called by word of mouth. I've just received my
+summons."</p>
+<p>"Well, then," Alice told him, "make a motion--or whatever you
+call it--that the General be approached, sounded. They'll appoint a
+committee. They'll put you on it, of course. Thus you can apprise
+him of the plot without violating your oath. I don't believe he
+will aid you, for that means betraying his trust.... But if he
+should--come back to me. We will have to act quickly."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>A fortnight passed. Alice had learned by adroit questioning that
+the federal army was a purely negligible defensive force.</p>
+<p>An attack would result in the easy plundering of this storehouse
+as well as the militia armories of San Francisco. Thus equipped, an
+army could be organized out of California's Southern sympathizers,
+who would beat down all resistance, loot the treasury of its gold
+and perhaps align the State with Slavery's Cause.</p>
+<p>Rebellion, civil warfare loomed with all its horrors. If the
+plot that Waters had described were carried through there would be
+bloodshed in the city. Her husband had gone to Sacramento on
+business. Suppose it came tonight!</p>
+<p>Anxiously Alice hovered near the cot where ten-year Robert
+slept.</p>
+<p>There came a knock at the door.</p>
+<p>"Who's there?" she asked, hand upon the bolt. Then, with an
+exclamation of relief, she opened it. Admitted Herbert Waters.</p>
+<p>He was smiling. "I took your advice.... It worked."</p>
+<p>She pushed a chair toward the hearth. "Sit there," she ordered.
+"Tell me all about it."</p>
+<p>Waters gazed into the fire half abstractedly. "Three of us were
+named," he said, "to have a conference with General Johnson." He
+turned to her, his eyes aglow, "I'll never forget that meeting. He
+asked us to be seated with his usual courtesy. Then he said, quite
+matter-of-factly ... in an off-hand sort of way, 'There's something
+I want to mention before we go further. I've heard some foolish
+talk about attempts to seize the strongholds of the government
+under my charge. So I've prepared for all emergencies.' His eyes
+flashed as he added, 'I will defend the property of the United
+States with every resource at my command, with the last drop of
+blood in my body. Tell that to your Southern friends.'"</p>
+<p>"And your plot?"</p>
+<p>"It's been abandoned."</p>
+<p>"Thank God," Alice exclaimed fervently.</p>
+<p>"And thank yourself a little," he commented, smiling.</p>
+<p>"General Johnson is a brave and honorable gentleman," Alice
+said. "I wonder--who could have informed him?"</p>
+<p>Waters looked at her quickly. But he did not voice the thought
+upon his tongue.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>April 24 General E.V. Sumner arrived with orders to take charge
+of the department of the Pacific. General Johnson's resignation was
+already on its way to Washington.</p>
+<p>On the following morning came the news that Southern forces had
+attacked Fort Sumpter.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LVI"></a>CHAPTER LVI</h2>
+<h3>SOME WAR REACTIONS</h3>
+<br>
+<p>San Francisco adjusted itself to war conditions with its usual
+impulsive facility. Terry, who had resigned from the Supreme bench
+following Broderick's death, and who had passed through the
+technicalities of a farcical trial, left for Texas. He joined the
+Southern forces and for years California knew him no more. Albert
+Sydney Johnson, after being displaced by General Sumner, offered
+his services to Jefferson Davis and was killed at Shiloh. Edward
+Baker, now a Senator from Oregon, left the halls of Congress for a
+Union command. At the head of the California volunteer regiment he
+charged the enemy at Ball's Bluff and fell, his body pierced by
+half a dozen bullets. Curiously different was the record of
+Broderick's old foeman, William Gwin. In October, 1861, he started
+East via the Isthmus of Panama, accompanied by Calhoun Benham, one
+of Terry's seconds in the fateful duel. On the same steamer was
+General Sumner, relieved of his command in San Francisco, en route
+to active service. Convinced that Gwin and Benham plotted treason,
+he ordered their arrest, but not before they threw overboard maps
+and other papers. They escaped conviction. But Gwin found Paris
+safer than America--until the war had reached its close.</p>
+<p>When the first call came for volunteers by way of the pony
+express, Benito and Adrian talked of enlisting. Even thirteen-year
+Francisco, to his mother's horror, spoke of going as a drummer
+boy.</p>
+<p>"One would think you men asked nothing better than to kill each
+other," Inez Windham stormed.</p>
+<p>Yet she was secretly proud. She would have felt a mite ashamed
+had Adrian displayed less martial ardor. And to her little son she
+showed the portrait of Francisco Garvez, who had ridden with Ortega
+and d'Anza in the days of Spanish glory.</p>
+<p>Lithographs of President Lincoln appeared in household and
+office. Flags flew from many staffs and windows. News was eagerly
+awaited from the battle-front.</p>
+<p>Adrian had been rejected by a recruiting board because of a
+slight limp. He had never quite recovered from a knife wound in the
+groin inflicted by McTurpin. Benito had been brusquely informed
+that his family needed him more than the Union cause at present.
+Still unsatisfied he found a substitute, an Englishman named Dart,
+who fell at Gettysburg, and to whose heirs in distant Liverpool he
+gladly paid $5000.</p>
+<p>But Herbert Waters went to war. Alice kissed the lad good-by and
+pinned a rosebud on his uniform as he departed on the steamer.
+Little Robert clung to him and wept when they were separated.
+Adrian, Benito and a host of others shook his hand.</p>
+<p>A whistle blew; he had to scamper for the gang-plank. The vessel
+moved slowly, turning in her course toward the Golden Gate. Men
+were waving their hats and weeping women their handkerchiefs. Alice
+stood misty eyed and moveless, till the steamer passed from
+sight.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Though one heard loud-chorused sentiments of Unionism, there
+were many secret friends of slavery in San Francisco. One felt them
+like an undercurrent, covert and disquieting. To determine where
+men stood, a public meeting had been called for May 11. Where Post
+ran into Market street, affording wide expanse for out-door
+gathering, a speaker's stand was built. Here the issues of war, it
+was announced, would be discussed by men of note.</p>
+<p>"Starr King, our pulpit Demosthenes, is to talk," Benito told
+his wife. "They tell me King's a power for the Union. He's so
+eloquent that even Southerners applaud him."</p>
+<p>They were interrupted by Po Lun, their Chinese servitor, who
+entered, leading Robert by the hand. The boy had a soldier cap,
+fashioned from newspaper by the ingenious celestial; it was
+embellished with plumes from a feather duster. A toy drum was
+suspended from his neck; the hilt of a play-time saber showed at
+his belt. The Chinaman carried a flag and both were marching in
+rhythmic step, which taxed the long legs of Po Lun severely by way
+of repression.</p>
+<p>"Where in the world are you two going?" Alice laughed.</p>
+<p>"We go public meeting, Missee," said Po Lun. "We hea' all same
+Miste' Stah King pleach-em 'bout Ablaham Lincoln."</p>
+<p>"Hurrah!" cried Benito with enthusiasm. "Let's go with them,
+Alice." He caught her about the waist and hurried her onward.
+Bareheaded, they ran out into the morning sunshine.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>At Post and Market streets, thousands waited, though the day was
+young. Constantly the crowd increased. From all directions came
+pedestrians, horsemen, folks in carriages, buggies--all manner of
+vehicles, even farm wagons from the outlying districts. Most of
+them looked upon attendance as a test of loyalty. When it was
+learned that Governor Downey had sent his regrets a murmur of
+disapproval ran through the throng. He had been very popular in San
+Francisco, for he had vetoed the infamous Bulkhead bill, which
+planned to give private interests the control of the waterfront. He
+also pocketed a libel measure aimed at San Francisco's independent
+press. But in the national crisis--a time when political
+temporizing was not tolerated--he "did not believe that war should
+be waged upon any section of the Confederacy, nor that the Union
+should be preserved by a coercive policy."</p>
+<p>"I saw the letter," Adrian told Benito. "They were going to read
+it at first, but they decided not to. After all, the little
+Governor's not afraid to utter his thoughts."</p>
+<p>"I've more respect for him than for Latham," Windham answered.
+"He's to make a speech today. Only a few weeks ago he damned us up
+and down in Congress. Now he's for the Union. I despise a
+turn-coat."</p>
+<p>They were interrupted by a voice that made announcements from
+the platform.</p>
+<p>Starr King arose amid cheers. The preacher was a man of
+marvelous enthusiasm. His slight, frail figure gave small hint of
+his dynamic talents. He had come to California for rest and health.
+But in the maelstrom of pre-war politics, he found neither "dolce
+far niente" nor recuperation. He plunged without a thought of self
+into the fight for California.</p>
+<p>As he began to talk the crowd pressed forward, packed itself
+into a smaller ring. Medlied sounds of converse died into a
+silence, which was almost breathless.</p>
+<p>For an hour King went on discussing clearly, logically and
+deeply, all the issues of the Civil War; the attitude,
+responsibilities and influences of California, particularly San
+Francisco. He made no great emotional appeals; he dealt in no
+impassioned oratory nor invective.</p>
+<p>At the close there was a little pause, so deep the concentration
+of their listening, before the concourse broke into applause. Then
+it was hysteria, pandemonium. Hats flew in the air; whistles,
+cheers and bravos mingled. The striking of palm against palm was
+like a great volley. Again and again the preacher rose, bowed,
+retired. Finally he thanked them, called the meeting closed, and
+bade them a good afternoon. Only then the crowd began to melt.
+Fifty thousand people knew their city--and their State no
+doubt--were safe for anti-slavery.</p>
+<br>
+<a name="page268.jpg"></a>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/page268.jpg" width="85%" alt=
+""><br>
+<b>The concourse broke into applause. Then it was hysteria,
+pandemonium. Fifty thousand knew their city was safe for
+Anti-Slavery.</b></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LVII"></a>CHAPTER LVII</h2>
+<h3>WATERS PAYS THE PRICE</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Months passed to a tune of fifes and drums. Everywhere men were
+drilling. At more or less regular intervals one saw them marching
+down Montgomery street, brave in their new uniforms, running a
+gauntlet of bunting, flags and cheers. Then they passed from one's
+ken. Each fortnight the San Francisco papers published a column of
+Deaths and Casualties.</p>
+<p>In due time a letter came from Herbert Waters, now a sergeant of
+his troop. Benito promptly closed his office for the afternoon and
+ran home with it; he read the missive, while Alice, Robert and Po
+Lun listened, eager-eyed and silent:</p>
+<br>
+<p>"We have marched over historic ground, the trail of d'Anza,
+which Benito's forefathers broke in 1774. They say it is the
+hardest march that volunteer troops ever made and I can well
+believe it. There are no railroads; it was almost like exploring.
+Sometimes water holes are ninety miles apart. The desert is so hot
+that you in temperate San Francisco can't imagine it unless you
+think of Hell; and in the mountains we found snow up to our waists;
+were nearly frozen.</p>
+<p>"Apaches, Yumas, Navajos abound; they are cruel, treacherous
+fighters. We had some lively skirmishes with them. I received a
+poisoned arrow in my arm. But I sucked the wound and very soon, to
+everyone's surprise, it healed. There comes to me oft-times a
+strange conceit that I cannot be killed or even badly hurt ...
+until I have met Terry."</p>
+<p>There was a postscript written on a later date, proceeding from
+Fort Davis, Texas. Though the handwriting was less firm than the
+foregoing, there was a jubilance about the closing lines which even
+the Chinese felt. His eyes glowed with a battle spirit as Benito
+read:</p>
+<br>
+<p>"My prayer has been answered. At least in part. I have met and
+fought with Broderick's assassin. It was in the battle for Fort
+Davis, which we wrested from the enemy, that he loomed suddenly
+before me, a great hulk of a man in a captain's uniform swinging
+his sword like a demon. I saw one of our men go down before him and
+then the battle press brought us together. It seemed almost like
+destiny. His sword was red and dripping, his horse was covered with
+foam. He looked at me with eyes that were insane--mad with the lust
+of killing; tried to plunge the blade into my neck. But I caught
+his wrist and held it. I shouted at him, for the noise was hideous,
+'David Terry, I am Broderick's friend.' He went white at that. I
+let his wrist go and drew my own saber. I struck at him and the
+sparks flew from his countering weapon. My heart was leaping with a
+kind of joy. 'No trick pistols this time,' I cried. And I spat in
+his face.</p>
+<p>"But another's ball came to his rescue. I felt it, cold as ice
+and hot as fire in my lung. I made a wild slash at him as I fell;
+saw him wince, but ride away.... So, now I lie in a camp hospital.
+It has seemed a long time. But it is the fortune of war. Perhaps I
+shall see you soon."</p>
+<br>
+<p>"It isn't signed," Benito seemed a trifle puzzled. Then he
+found, in back of Waters' lines, a final sheet in a strange
+handwriting. Hurriedly he rose, walked to the open door. Below,
+upon the bay, storm was brewing; it seemed mirrored in his
+eyes.</p>
+<p>"What is it, dear?" asked Alice following. He handed her the
+single sheet of paper.</p>
+<p>"Dead!" her tone was stunned, incredulous.</p>
+<p>Benito's arm around her, dumbly, they went out together. Rain
+was beginning to fall, but neither knew it.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Several years of war made little change in San Francisco. The
+city furnished more than its quota of troops. The California
+Hundred, trained fighters and good horsemen, went to Massachusetts
+in 1862 and were assigned to the Second Cavalry. Later the
+California Battalion joined them. Both saw terrific fighting.</p>
+<p>But California furnished better than "man-power" to the
+struggle. Money, that all-important war-essential, streamed
+uninterruptedly from the coast-state mines to Washington. More than
+a hundred millions had already been sent--a sum which, in
+Confederate hands, might have turned the destiny of battle.
+California was loyal politically as well. Though badly treated by a
+remote, often unsympathetic government, she had scorned the plot to
+set up a "Pacific Republic" as the South had planned and hoped.</p>
+<p>Her secret service men were busy and astute, preventing
+filibustering plots and mail robberies. There was a constant
+feeling of uneasiness. San Francisco still housed too many Southern
+folk.</p>
+<p>Benito and Alice were dining with the Stanleys. Francisco and
+Robert were squatted on the hearth, poring over an illustrated book
+that had come from New York. It showed the uniforms of United
+States soldiers, the latest additions to the navy.</p>
+<p>"See," said Francisco, "here are pictures of Admiral Farragut
+and General Sherman." He was fifteen now and well above his
+father's shoulders. Robert, three years younger, looked up to
+admire his cousin. A smaller, more intellectual type of boy was
+Robert, with his mother's quiet sweetness and his father's
+fire.</p>
+<p>"Here's a picture of the fight between the Monitor and
+Merrimac," he cried interestedly, "When I grow up I shall join the
+navy and wear a cap with gold braid, like Farragut."</p>
+<p>"And I shall be a lawyer ... maybe a Senator or President," said
+Francisco, with importance.</p>
+<p>The men, talking politics over their cigars, did not hear this
+converse, but the women looked down at their sons, smiling fondly.
+"Yesterday Robert announced that he would be a poet," Alice
+confided. "He saw his father writing verses in a book."</p>
+<p>"And tomorrow he will want to be an inventor or a steam-boat
+captain," Inez answered. "'Tis the way with boys.... Mine is
+getting so big--I'm afraid he'll be going to war."</p>
+<p>Po Lun interrupted their further confidences. He rushed in
+breathless, unannounced. "Misstah Windham," he spoke to Benito.
+"One man wanchee see you quick in Chinatown.... He allee same
+plitty soon die. He say you sabe him. His name McTu'pin."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LVIII"></a>CHAPTER LVIII</h2>
+<h3>McTURPIN TURNS INFORMER</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Benito stared, bewildered, at the Chinaman. "McTurpin dying?
+Wants to see me?"</p>
+<p>Po Lun nodded. "He send-um China boy you' house. He wait
+outside."</p>
+<p>Benito rose. Alice laid detaining fingers on his arm. "Don't go
+... it's just a ruse. You know McTurpin."</p>
+<p>"The time is past when he can injure me," he answered gravely.
+"Something tells me it is right--to go." He kissed her, disengaged
+her arms about him gently, and went out. Adrian signaled to the
+Chinese. "Follow him...."</p>
+<p>Po Lun nodded understandingly.</p>
+<p>A shuffling figure, face concealed beneath a broad-brimmed hat,
+hands tucked each within the opposite sleeve, awaited Windham just
+outside the door. He set out immediately in an easterly direction,
+glancing over his shoulder now and again to make certain that
+Benito followed. Down the steep slope of Washington street he went
+past moss-grown retaining walls; over slippery brick pavements,
+through which the grass-blades sprouted, to plunge at length into
+the eddying alien mass of Chinatown's main artery, Dupont street.
+Here rushing human counter-currents ebbed and flowed ceaslessly.
+Burdens of all sizes and of infinite variety swept by on swaying
+shoulder yokes.</p>
+<p>Benito's guide paused momentarily on the farther side of Dupont
+street. Then, with a beckoning gesture, he dived into a narrow
+alley. Benito, following, found himself before the entrance of a
+cellarway. As he halted, iron trapdoors opened toward him,
+revealing a short flight of steps. The Chinese motioned him to
+descend, but the lawyer hesitated with a sudden sense of
+trepidation. Beneath the pavement in this cul-de-sac of Chinatown,
+he would be hidden from the world, from friends or rescue, as
+securely as though he were at the bottom of the bay.</p>
+<p>But he squared his shoulders and went down. A door opened
+noiselessly and closed, leaving him in total darkness. A lantern
+glimmered and he followed it along a narrow passage that had many
+unexpected turns. An odor, pungent, acrid, semi-aromatic troubled
+his nostrils. It increased until the lantern-bearing Chinese
+ushered him into a large square room, lined with bunks, three-deep,
+like the forecastle of a ship. In each lay two Chinese, face to
+face. They drew at intervals deep inhalations from a thick bamboo
+pipe, relaxing, thereupon into a sort of stupored dream. The place
+reeked with the fumes that had assailed Benito in the passage.
+Intuitively he knew that it was opium.</p>
+<p>A voice in English, faint and dreamy, reached him. "This way ...
+Mr. Windham.... Please."</p>
+<p>A white almost-skeleton hand stretched toward him from a lower
+bunk. A bearded face, cadaverously sunken, in which gleamed bright
+fevered eyes, was now discernible.</p>
+<p>"McTurpin!" he spoke incredulously.</p>
+<p>"What's left of me," the tone was hollow, grim. "Please sit down
+here, close to me.... I've something to tell you.... Something that
+will--"</p>
+<p>He sank back weakly, but his eyes implored. Benito took a seat
+beside the bunk. For a moment he thought the man was dead. He lay
+so limp, so silent!</p>
+<p>Then McTurpin whispered. "Bend closer. I will tell you how to
+serve your country.... There's a schooner called the 'J.M.
+Chapman.' Do you know where it lies?"</p>
+<p>"No," Benito answered, "but that's easily discovered. If you've
+anything to say--go on."</p>
+<p>McTurpin's bony fingers clutched Benito's sleeve. "Listen," he
+said. "Bend nearer."</p>
+<p>His voice droned on, at times imperceptible, again hoarse with
+excitement. Benito sat moveless, absorbed.</p>
+<p>Above the iron-trap doors Po Lun waited patiently.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>In an unlighted alley back of the American Exchange Hotel two
+figures waited, as if by appointment on the night of March 14. One
+was Ashbury Harpending, a young Southerner, and one of the
+Committee of Thirty which, several years before, had hatched an
+unsuccessful plot to capture California for the hosts of slavery.
+The other was an English boy named Alfred Rubery, large,
+good-looking, adventurous, nephew of the great London publicist,
+John Bright. It was he who spoke first in a guarded undertone:</p>
+<p>"Is everything ready--safe?"</p>
+<p>"Far as I can tell," responded Harpending.</p>
+<p>"How many men d'you get?" asked Rubery.</p>
+<p>"Twenty ... that's enough. We'll pick up more at Manzanillo.
+There we'll dress the Chapman into fighting trim, set up our guns
+aboard and capture the first Pacific Mail liner with gold out of
+California."</p>
+<p>"You're a clever fellow, Harpending. How'd you get those guns
+aboard without suspicion?"</p>
+<p>"Through a Mexican friend," replied Harpending. "He said he
+needed them to protect his mine in South America. Besides, we've a
+large assortment of rifles, revolvers, cutlasses. They're boxed and
+marked 'machinery.'"</p>
+<p>Further talk was interrupted by a group of men who approached,
+saluted, gave a whispered countersign. Others came, still others
+till the quota of a full score had arrived. At Harpending's command
+they separated to avoid attention. Silently they slipped through
+dimly-lighted streets, past roaring saloons and sailors' boarding
+houses to an unfrequented portion of the waterfront. There the trim
+black silhouetted shape of the schooner Chapman loomed against a
+cloudy sky.</p>
+<p>At the rail stood Ridgely Greathouse, big, florid, his burnside
+whiskers twitching.</p>
+<p>"Where the devil's Law?" he bellowed. "Lord Almighty! Here it's
+nearly midnight and no captain."</p>
+<p>"He's not with us," said Harpending quietly. But his face paled.
+Navigator William Law was the only one of whom he had a doubt. But
+the men must not suspect. "Law will be along soon," he added. "Let
+us all get aboard and make ready to sail."</p>
+<p>The men followed him and went below. Harpending, Greathouse and
+Rubery paced the deck. "He's drunk probably," commented Greathouse
+savagely.</p>
+<p>"Tut! Tut!" cried Rubery, "let us have no croaking." But at two
+o'clock, the navigator had not shown his face. They could not sail
+without a captain. Wearily they went below and left a sentinel on
+watch. He was a young man who had eaten heavily and drunk to even
+more excess. For a time he paced the deck conscientiously. Then he
+sat down, leaned against a spar and smoked. After a while the pipe
+fell from his listless fingers.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>"Ahoy, schooner Chapman!"</p>
+<p>The sleeping sentinel stirred languidly. He stretched himself,
+yawned, rose in splendid leisure. Then a shout broke from him. Like
+a frightened rabbit he dived through the hatchway, yelling at the
+top of his lungs.</p>
+<p>"The police! The police!"</p>
+<p>Harpending was up first. Pell mell, Rubery and Greathouse
+followed. A couple of hundred yards away they looked into the
+trained guns of the Federal warship Cyane. Several boatloads of
+officers and marines were leaving her side. From the San Francisco
+waterfront a police tug bore down on the Chapman.</p>
+<p>Greathouse stumbled back into the cabin. "Quick, destroy the
+evidence," he shouted.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LIX"></a>CHAPTER LIX</h2>
+<h3>THE COMSTOCK FURORE</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Press reports gave full and wide sensation to the capture of the
+"Chapman." Chief Lees took every credit for the thwarting of a
+"Plot of Southern Pirates" who "Conspired to Prey Upon the Golden
+Galleons From California." Thus the headlines put it. And Benito
+was relieved to find no mention of himself. Harpending he knew and
+liked, despite his Southern sympathies; Rubery he had met; an
+English lad, high-spirited and well connected. In fact, John Bright
+soon had his errant nephew out of jail. And when, a few months
+later, Harpending and Greathouse were released, Benito deemed the
+story happily ended. He heard nothing from McTurpin. No doubt the
+fellow was dead.</p>
+<p>That troublesome proclivity of wooing chance was uppermost again
+in Windham's mind. It was only natural perhaps, for all of San
+Francisco gambled now in mining stocks. The brokers swarmed like
+bees along Montgomery street; every window had its shelf of quartz
+and nuggets interspersed with pictures of the "workings" at
+Virginia City. It was Nevada now that held the treasure-seeker's
+eye.</p>
+<p>Within a year it had produced six millions. Scores of miners
+staked their claims upon or near the Comstock lode and most of them
+sought capital in San Francisco. Washerwomen, bankers,
+teamsters--every class was bitten by the microbe of hysterical
+investment. Some had made great fortunes; none apparently thus far
+had lost.</p>
+<p>In front of Flood and O'Brien's saloon a hand fell heartily upon
+Benito's shoulder. "Come in and have a drink," James Lick
+invited.</p>
+<p>Lick had "made a pile" of late. He was building a big hotel on
+Montgomery street; was recognized as one of San Francisco's
+financiers. He took Benito by the arm. "We've got to celebrate.
+I've made ten thousand on my Ophir shares. Carrying any mining
+stock, Benito?"</p>
+<p>"No," retorted Windham. He suffered Lick to lead him to the bar.
+Will O'Brien, a shrewd-faced merry Irishman, took their orders. He
+and Flood had bought an interest in Virginia City ... "a few fate
+only, but it's goin' t' make us rich, me lad," he said
+enthusiastically as he set their glasses out upon the bar. "We'll
+all be nabobs soon. Ain't that the God's truth, Mr. Ralston?"</p>
+<p>"Sure, my boy," a deep voice answered heartily. Windham turned
+and saw a man of forty, tall, well-molded, with a smiling forceful
+countenance. He seemed to smack of large affairs.</p>
+<p>Benito sipped his liquor, listening absorbedly while Ralston
+rattled off facts, figures, prospects in connection with the
+Comstock lode.</p>
+<p>"The Nevada mines will pay big," Benito heard him tell a group
+of bearded men who hung upon his utterances. "BIG! You can bet your
+bottom dollar on it. If you've money, don't let it stay idle."</p>
+<p>Benito bade his friend good-bye and went out, thinking deeply.
+He wondered what Alice would say if....</p>
+<p>Nesbitt of The Bulletin interrupted his musing. "Heard the news,
+Benito? We're to have a stock exchange next month."</p>
+<p>"The brokers are opposed to it. They don't want staple values,
+because, now and then, they can pick up a bargain or drive a hard
+trade. And they can peddle 'wildcat' stocks to tenderfeet.... We
+must stop that sort of thing."</p>
+<p>"Quite so," said Windham vaguely comprehending. Nesbitt babbled
+on. "There are to be forty charter members, with a fund of
+$2000."</p>
+<p>He took a pencil from his pocket. Tapped Benito's shirt front
+with it. "Buy a little Gould and Curry.... I've just had a tip that
+it will rise." He hurried on.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Windham let his clients wait that afternoon. He took a walk
+toward Twin Peaks on Market street. That lordly, though neglected,
+thoroughfare began to make pretensions toward commercial activity.
+Opposite Montgomery street was St. Ignatius Church. Farther down
+toward the docks were lumber yards and to the west were little
+shops, mostly one-storied, widely scattered. Chinese laundries, a
+livery stable or two. The pavements were stretches of boardwalk
+interspersed with sand or mud, trodden into passable trails. Down
+the broad center ran a track on which for years a dummy engine had
+labored back and forth, drawing flat cars laden with sand. Now most
+of the sand hills were leveled above Kearny street. Benito picked
+his way along the northern side of Market street till he came to
+Hayes. There the new horse car line ran to Hayes park. One was just
+leaving as he reached the corner, so he hopped aboard. As the
+driver took his fare he nodded cordially. Benito recognized him as
+a former client.</p>
+<p>"Listen," said the fellow, "you did me a good turn once, Mr.
+Windham. Now I'll return the compliment." He leaned nearer,
+whispered. "Buy some Hale and Norcross mining stock. I've got a tip
+straight from the president. It's going up."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>In the spring of '64, Virginia City mines still yielded treasure
+harvests unbelievable. Windham's bank account had risen to the
+quarter-million mark. Month by month he watched his assets grow by
+leaps more marvelous than even his romantic fancy could
+fore-vision. Stocks were climbing at a rate which raised the value
+of each share $100 every thirty days.</p>
+<p>San Francisco's Stock and Exchange Board, the leading of the
+three such institutions, had quarters in the Montgomery block.
+Electric telegraphs, which flashed its stock quotations round the
+world, made it a money power in London, Paris and New York.</p>
+<p>Benito had a home now in South Park, the city's new, exclusive
+residence section. From there the Omnibus Street Railway Company,
+in which he was a large stockholder, operated horse cars to North
+Beach. He wore a high hat now and spectacles. There were touches of
+gray in his hair.</p>
+<p>As he entered the exchange, a nimble-fingered Morse-operator was
+marking figures on a blackboard.</p>
+<p>Windham heard his name called; turning, met the outstretched
+hand of William Ralston. They chatted for a time on current
+matters. There was to be a Merchants' Exchange. Already ground was
+broken for the building. The Bank of California, one of Ralston's
+enterprises, would soon open its doors. Ralston was in a dozen
+ventures, all of them constructive, public spirited. He counted his
+friends by the hundreds. Suddenly he turned from contemplation of
+the blackboard to Benito.</p>
+<p>"Carrying much Virginia City nowadays?"</p>
+<p>Benito told him. Ralston knit his brow, deliberating. Then he
+said with crisp decision, "Better start unloading soon, my
+son."</p>
+<p>Benito was surprised; expostulated. Ophir, Gould and Curry,
+Savage were as steady as a rock. He didn't want to lose a "bag of
+money." Ralston heard him, nodded curtly, walked away. Disturbed,
+rebellious, Benito quit the place. He wanted quiet to digest the
+older man's advice. Ralston had the name of making few mistakes.
+Restlessly Benito sought an answer to his problem. In the end he
+went home undecided and retired dinnerless, explaining that he had
+a headache. He awoke with a fever the next morning. Alice,
+frightened by his haggard eyes, sent Po Lun for a doctor.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LX"></a>CHAPTER LX</h2>
+<h3>THE SHATTERED BUBBLE</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Benito looked up from his pillows, tried to rise and found that
+he had not the strength. Someone was holding his wrist. Oh, yes,
+Dr. Beverly Cole. Behind him stood Alice and Robert.... How tall
+the boy looked beside his little mother! They seemed to be tired,
+worried. And Alice had tears in her eyes.</p>
+<p>He heard the doctor's voice afar off, saying, "Yes, he'll live.
+The danger's over--barring complications." Once more his senses
+drifted, slept.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>In the morning Po Lun brought a cup of broth and fed him with a
+spoon.</p>
+<p>"Long time you been plenty sick," the Chinaman replied to his
+interrogation.</p>
+<p>"Where's Alice?"</p>
+<p>"She go 'sleep 'bout daylight.... She plenty ti'ed. Ebely night
+she sit up while you talk clazy talk."</p>
+<p>"You mean I've been delirious, Po Lun?"</p>
+<p>The Chinese nodded. "You get well now plitty soon," he said
+soothingly and, with the empty cup, stole softly out. After a time
+Alice came, rejoiced to find him awake. The boy, on his way to
+school, poked a bright morning face in at the door and called out,
+"Hello, dad! Better, ain't you?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, Robert," said Benito. When the boy had gone he turned to
+Alice. "How long have I been ill?"</p>
+<p>"Less than a fortnight--though it seems an age." She took his
+hand and cried a little. But they were happy tears. He stroked her
+hair with a hand that seemed strangely heavy.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Three weeks later, hollow-eyed, a little shaky, but eager to be
+back at work, Benito returned to his office. A press of work
+engaged him through the morning hours. But at noon, he wandered out
+into the bright June sunshine, walking about and greeting old
+friends. At the Russ House Cafe, where he lunched, William Ralston
+greeted him cordially.</p>
+<p>"How is the war going?" Windham asked. "I've been laid up for a
+month--rather out of the running."</p>
+<p>"Well, they're devilish hard fighters, those Confederates. And
+Lee's a master strategist.... But we've the money, Windham. That's
+what counts. The Union owes a lot to California and Nevada."</p>
+<p>"Nevada!" with the word came sudden recollection. "That reminds
+me, Ralston.... How are stocks?"</p>
+<p>But the banker, with a muttered excuse hastened off.</p>
+<p>Benito finished his coffee, smoked a cigarette and made his way
+again into the street.</p>
+<p>Presently he went into the stock exchange, almost deserted now,
+after the close of the morning session. O'Brien was there, smoking
+a long black cigar and chatting in his boisterous, confidential way
+with Asbury Harpending. The latter was babbling in real estate.</p>
+<p>"Hullo, Windham!" he greeted. "You don't look very fit.... Been
+ill?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," Benito told him. "Laid up since the last of May. What's
+new?"</p>
+<p>"Nothing much--since the bottom dropped out of Comstock."</p>
+<p>Instinctively Benito's hand went out toward a chair. He sank
+into it weakly. So that was the explanation of Ralston's swift
+departure.</p>
+<p>He felt the men's eyes upon him as he walked unsteadily to the
+files and scanned them. Ophir stock had dropped 50 per cent. Gould
+and Curry was even lower. Benito closed the book and walked blindly
+out of the exchange.</p>
+<p>After a time he heard footsteps following. Harpending's voice
+came, "Hey, there, Windham." Benito turned.</p>
+<p>"Cleaned out?" asked the other sympathetically.</p>
+<p>"Not--quite."</p>
+<p>"Then forget the stocks. They're tricky things at best.... I've
+a proposition that's a winner. Positively.... There's law work to
+be done. We need you."</p>
+<p>"Montgomery Street Straight" was the plan. It was to be extended
+across Market street either in a straight line or at an easy
+angle--over all obstructions to the bay.</p>
+<p>"But such a scheme would involve millions," Benito objected. "It
+would cut through the Latham and Parrott homes for instance.... Old
+Senator Latham would hold you up for a prohibitive price. And
+Parrott would fight you to a finish."</p>
+<p>"Quite right," returned Harpending. "That's where you come in,
+Benito. We want you to draw us a bill and lobby it through the
+Legislature...."</p>
+<p>"The thing is to make it a law. Then the Governor must appoint a
+commission. The Latham and Parrott properties will be condemned and
+we can acquire them at a fair price."</p>
+<p>"Very well," Benito answered. "It's a go."</p>
+<p>Several days after his talk with Harpending, Benito met Adrian
+and Francisco, the latter a tall, gangling lad of sixteen. Father
+and son were talking animatedly, discussing some point on which
+Francisco seemed determined to have his way.</p>
+<p>"What d'ye think of this youngster of mine?" Stanley questioned.
+"Scarcely out of short pants and wants to be a newspaper man! I say
+he should go to school a few years more ... to one of those Eastern
+colleges you hear so much about. I've the money. He doesn't need to
+work.... Talk to him, Benito. Make him listen to sense."</p>
+<p>"I don't wish to go East, Uncle Ben," said Francisco. "What good
+will it do me to learn Latin and Greek.... Higher mathematics and
+social snobbery? I want to get to work. Calvin McDonald's offered
+me a job on The American Flag."</p>
+<p>"What will you do? Write editorials or poetry?" his father
+asked.</p>
+<p>Francisco flushed. "I'll be a copy boy to start with.... And
+there's no harm in writing poetry. Uncle Ben does it himself."</p>
+<p>It was Benito's turn to redden. "Better let the boy have his
+way," he said hastily. "Journalism's quite an education in
+itself."</p>
+<p>"So, you're against me, too! Well, well. I'll see about it."</p>
+<p>They shook hands good-humoredly, the boy beaming. Afterward news
+reached Benito that young Stanley was a member of McDonald's
+staff.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>In 1865 there came the joyous news of victory and peace. The
+Democratic Press accepted Lee's surrender sullenly, printing now
+and then a covert sneer at Grant or Lincoln. Enmity died hard in
+Southern breasts.</p>
+<p>One morning as he came to town Benito saw a crowd of angry and
+excited men running down Montgomery street. Some of them brandished
+canes. "Down with Copperheads," they were shouting. Presently he
+heard a crash of glass, a cry of protest. Then a door gave with a
+splintering sound. The crowd rushed through, into the offices and
+print rooms of the Democratic Press.</p>
+<p>There was more noise of wreckage and destruction. Broken chairs,
+tables, typecases, bits of machinery hurtled into the street.
+Benito grasped the arm of a man who was hurrying by. "What's
+wrong?" he asked.</p>
+<p>The other turned a flushed and angry mien toward him. "God
+Almighty! Haven't you heard? President Lincoln was shot last night
+... by a brother of Ed Booth, the actor.... They say he's dying."
+He picked up a stone and hurled it at an upper window of the
+Press.</p>
+<p>"We'll show these traitor-dogs a thing or two," he called. "Come
+on, boys, let's wreck the place!"</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXI"></a>CHAPTER LXI</h2>
+<h3>DESPERATE FINANCE</h3>
+<br>
+<p>The publishers of the Democratic Press had their lesson. In a
+city draped with black for a beloved President, they swept up the
+glass of their shattered windows, picked up what remained of
+scattered type, reassembled machinery and furniture--and
+experienced a change of heart. Presently The Examiner burgeoned
+from that stricken journalistic root.</p>
+<p>Francisco was now a member of the Alta staff, the aggressive but
+short-lived American Flag, having ceased publication several years
+after the war. Adrian admitted to Benito that the boy had justified
+his bent for journalistic work.</p>
+<p>"The young rascal's articles are attracting attention. He even
+signs some of them; now and then they print one of his
+verses--generally a satire on local events. And he gets passes to
+all of the theaters. Inez and I are going to 'Camille'
+tonight."</p>
+<p>"So are Alice and myself, by a coincidence." Benito lighted a
+cigar and puffed a moment; then he added, "Do you know what that
+boy of mine proposes to do?"</p>
+<p>"No," said Adrian. "Become an actor--or a politician?"</p>
+<p>"Well, it's almost as bad.... He wants to be a letter
+carrier.... The new free delivery routes will be established soon,
+you know."</p>
+<p>"Yes, the town's growing," commented Stanley. "Well, you'd
+better let young Robert have his way. He's almost as big as you....
+How is 'Montgomery Straight' progressing?"</p>
+<p>"Fairly well," returned Benito. "Latham and Parrott are fighting
+us as we expected. But Harpending's acquired Selim Woodworth's lot
+on Market street, just where Montgomery will cut through." He
+laughed. "Selim wanted half a million for it.... He'd have got it
+in a day or two because we had to have the property. But along
+comes an earthquake and literally shakes $350,000 out of
+Woodworth's pockets. Frightened him so badly that he sold for
+$150,000 and was glad to get it."</p>
+<p>"Well, even earthquakes have their uses," Adrian smiled. "Here
+comes Francisco. I'll have him see Maguire and arrange it so that
+we can sit together at the show."</p>
+<p>"Who is the lanky fellow with him?" asked Benito. "Looks as if
+he would appreciate a joke."</p>
+<p>"Oh, that's his friend, Sam Clemens," Adrian answered. "An
+improvident cuss but good company. He writes for the Carson Appeal
+under the name of Mark Twain."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Benito, that afternoon, was closeted with Harpending and Ralston
+in the Bank of California. The financier, who was backing the
+Montgomery street venture, regarded Harpending a trifle
+quizzically. "Once," he said, "you tried to be a pirate, Asbury....
+Oh, no offense," he laid a soothing hand upon the other's knee.
+"But tonight I need a desperate man such as you. Another like
+Benito. We're going to raid the Mint."</p>
+<p>"What?" cried Windham, startled.</p>
+<p>"You'll need steadier nerves than that for our enterprise."
+Ralston passed his cigar case to the two men, saw them puffing
+equably ere he continued. "You know how tight the money situation
+has become because President Grant declines to let us exchange our
+gold bars for coin. With eight tons of gold in our vault we almost
+had a run this afternoon.... Now, that's ridiculous." His fist
+smote the table. "Grant doesn't know the ropes.... But that's no
+reason why Hell should break loose tomorrow morning."</p>
+<p>"What are you going to do?" Benito asked.</p>
+<p>"Use my common sense--and save the banks," said Ralston shortly.
+"You two must meet me here this evening. Soon as it's dark. You'll
+have a hard night's work. My friend Dore will be there also. Can
+you suggest anyone else--absolutely to be trusted, who will ask no
+questions?"</p>
+<p>"My son," Benito answered; "Robert likes work. He wants to be a
+postal-carrier."</p>
+<p>"Bring him by all means," said Ralston. "If he helps us out
+tonight, I'll see that he gets anything he wants in San
+Francisco."</p>
+<p>He was boyishly eager; full of excited plans for his daring
+scheme. The two men left him chuckling as he bit the end off a
+fresh cigar.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>It was nearly nine o'clock when they left the Bank of
+California. Theater-going crowds were housed at the play; the
+streets were extraordinarily silent as the quintet made their way
+toward the Mint. Robert was breathing hard. The dark streets, the
+mysterious Empire ahead, the hint of danger and a mighty stake
+distilled a toxic and exhilarating fever in his blood. As the
+pillared front of the federal treasure house loomed up before them,
+Ralston made a sign for them to halt, advancing cautiously. With
+astonishment they saw him pass through the usually guarded door and
+disappear. Presently he emerged with two sacks.</p>
+<p>"Robert and Benito, take these to the bank," he whispered. "The
+watchmen there will give you the equivalent in gold bars to bring
+back." He turned to Harpending and Dore. "I'll have yours ready in
+a minute." Once more he vanished within.</p>
+<p>Robert picked up the bag allotted to him. It was very heavy. As
+he lifted it to his shoulder, the contents clinked.</p>
+<p>"Gold coin," said his father, significantly.</p>
+<p>"What if we're caught?" asked the boy, half fearfully. Ralston,
+reappearing, heard the question.</p>
+<p>"You won't be," he said. "I've attended to that."</p>
+<p>His assurance proved correct. All night the four men toiled
+between the Mint and the Bank of California sweating, puffing,
+fatigued to the brink of exhaustion. With the first streak of dawn,
+Ralston dismissed them.</p>
+<p>"You've brought five ton of gold coin to the vault," he said,
+his eyes agleam. "You've saved San Francisco the worst financial
+panic that ever a short-sighted federal government unwittingly
+precipitated." Suddenly he laughed and threw his arms wide. "At ten
+o'clock the frightened sheep will come running for their
+deposits.... Well, let 'em come."</p>
+<p>"And now you boys go home and get some sleep. By the Eternal,
+you deserve it!"</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXII"></a>CHAPTER LXII</h2>
+<h3>ADOLPH SUTRO'S TUNNEL</h3>
+<br>
+<p>William C. Ralston's Bank of California had become the great
+financial institution of the West. Ralston was the Rothschild of
+America. Through him Central Pacific Railway promoters borrowed
+$3,000,000 with less formality than a country banker uses in
+mortgaging of a ten-acre farm. Two millions took their unobtrusive
+wing to South America, financing mines he had never seen. In
+Virginia City William Sharon directed a branch of the Bank of
+California and kept his eye on mineral investment. Benito sat in
+Ralston's office one morning, smoking and discussing the Montgomery
+street problem when a clerk tapped at the door.</p>
+<p>"A fellow's out here from Virginia City," he said nervously.
+"Wants to see you quickly 'and no bones about it.' That's what he
+told me."</p>
+<p>"All right, send him in," said Ralston laughing. "Stay, Benito.
+He won't take a minute...." Ere he finished there stalked in a
+wild-eyed individual clad in boots, the slouch hat of the mining
+man, a suit of handsome broadcloth, mud-bespattered and a heavy
+golden watch chain with the usual nugget charm. He was a clean-cat
+type of mining speculator from Nevada.</p>
+<p>"Sit down," invited Ralston. "Have a smoke."</p>
+<p>The intruder glared at Windham; then he eased himself
+uncomfortably into a spacious leather-covered seat, bit off the end
+of a cigar, half-viciously and, having found the cuspidor,
+began.</p>
+<p>"I've something for your ear alone, Bill Ralston...."</p>
+<p>"Meet Benito Windham," Ralston introduced. "Speak out. I have no
+secrets from my friends."</p>
+<p>The other hemmed and hawed. He seemed averse to putting into
+words some thought which troubled him beyond repression. "Do you
+know," he burst out finally, "that your partner, Sharon, has become
+the most incurable and dissolute gambler in Nevada?"</p>
+<p>"You don't say." Ralston did not seem as shocked as one might
+have expected. "Well, my friend, that sounds quite serious....
+What's poor Bill's particular kind of--vice?"</p>
+<p>"Poker," said the visitor. "By the Eternal, that man Sharon
+would stake his immortal soul on a four-card flush and never bat an
+eye. Time and time again I've seen it."</p>
+<p>Ralston leaned back comfortably, his folded hands across his
+middle. His speculative stare was on a marble statue. At length he
+spoke. "Does Sharon win or lose?"</p>
+<p>"Well," the other man admitted, "I must say he wins...."</p>
+<p>"Then he's just the man I want," Ralston spoke with emphasis. He
+rose, held out his hand toward the flustered visitor. "Thanks for
+telling me.... And now we'll all go for a drink together."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>"That's Bill Ralston!" said Benito to his wife. They laughed
+about the anecdote which Windham had related at the dinner table.
+Robert, in his new letter-carrier's uniform, spoke up. "I saw him
+at the bank this afternoon.... There was a letter from Virginia
+City and he kept me waiting till he opened it. Then he slapped me
+on the shoulder. 'If the contents of that letter had been known to
+certain people, son,' he told me, 'they'd have cleaned up a fortune
+on the information.' Then he handed me a gold-piece. But I wouldn't
+take it. 'Don't be proud,' he said and poked me in the ribs. 'And
+don't forget that Bill Ralston's your friend.'"</p>
+<p>"Everybody calls him 'Bill,'" his mother added. "Washerwomen,
+teamsters, beggars, millionaires. If ever there was a friend of the
+people it is he."</p>
+<p>"Some day, though, he'll overplay his game," Benito
+prophesied.</p>
+<p>Ralston had been euchered out of a railroad to Eureka, planned
+by Harpending and himself and opposed by the Big Four; "Montgomery
+to the Bay" was meeting with a host of difficulties; the Grand
+Hotel was building and Kearny street, where he owned property, was
+being widened. Ralston's genial countenance showed sometimes a
+little strained pucker between the eyes.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Now and then Benito met a man named Adolph Sutro. They called
+him "The Man With a Dream." Stocky, under average height, intensely
+businesslike, he was--a German Burgomeister type, with Burnside
+whiskers and a purpose. He proposed to drive a tunnel four miles
+long from Carson valley, and strike the Comstock levels 1800 feet
+below the surface.</p>
+<p>An English syndicate was backing him. The work was going on.</p>
+<p>Much of Sutro's time was spent in Virginia City, superintending
+the work on his tunnel. But he fell into the habit of finding
+Benito whenever he came to town--dragging him from home with
+awkward but sincere apologies to Alice.</p>
+<p>"You will lend me your husband, Hein?" he would say. "I like to
+tell him of my fancies, for he understands ... the others laugh at
+me."</p>
+<p>Alice smiled into his broad, good humored face. "That's very
+silly of them."</p>
+<p>"Donnerwetter! Some day they will laugh the other way around,"
+he threatened.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Benito and Sutro usually drove or rode through the Presidio and
+out along a road which skirted cliffs and terminated at the Seal
+Rock House. There they dined and watched the seals disporting on
+some sea-drenched rocks, a stone's throw distant. And there Sutro
+indulged in more dreams.</p>
+<p>"Some day I shall purchase that headland and build me a home ...
+and farther inland I shall grow a forest out of eucalyptus trees.
+They come from Australia.... One can buy them cheap enough.... They
+grow fast like bamboo in the Tropics." He clapped a hand upon
+Benito's knee. "I shall call it Mount Parnassus."</p>
+<p>Benito tried to smile appreciatively. He felt rather dubious
+about the scheme. But he liked to see the other's quiet eyes flash
+with an unexpected fire. Perhaps his genius might indeed reclaim
+this desolate region. Inward from the beach lay the waste of
+sand-hills known as Golden Gate Park. There was talk among the real
+estate visionaries of making it a pleasure ground.</p>
+<p>So regularly did they end their outings with a dinner at the
+Seal Rock House that Alice always knew where to find her husband in
+case some clamorous client sought Benito's aid. And tonight as an
+attendant called his name he answered with no other thought than
+that he would be asked to make a will or soothe some jealous and
+importunate wife who wanted a divorce without delay. They usually
+did want them that way. He rose, leisurely enough, and made his way
+to the door. There, instead of the usual messenger boy, stood
+Alice.</p>
+<p>"You must come at once," she panted. "Robert has been robbed of
+an important letter to the bank. They talk of arresting him....
+Ralston wants you at his office."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXIII"></a>CHAPTER LXIII</h2>
+<h3>LEES SOLVES A MYSTERY</h3>
+<br>
+<p>In the president's office at the Bank of California, Benito
+found his son, pale but intrepid. He was being questioned by
+William Sharon and a postoffice inspector. Ralston, hands crammed
+into trousers pockets, paced the room disturbedly.</p>
+<p>"You admit, then, that the envelope was given you?" Sharon was
+asking truculently as Benito entered.</p>
+<p>"Yes," said Robert, "I remember seeing such a letter as I packed
+my mail."</p>
+<p>"Humph!" exclaimed Sharon. He seemed about to ask another
+question, but the postal official anticipated him. "Explain what
+happened after you left the mail station."</p>
+<p>"Nothing much ... I walked up Washington street as usual. On the
+edge of Chinatown a woman stopped me ... asked me how to get to
+Market street."</p>
+<p>"Is that all?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, that's all," said Robert. "She seemed confused by our
+criss-cross streets. I had to tell her several times ... to point
+the way before she understood."</p>
+<p>"And nothing else happened?"</p>
+<p>"Nothing else--except that Mr. Ralston asked me for the letter.
+Said he was expecting it.... I searched my bag but couldn't find
+it."</p>
+<p>"Tell us more about this woman. Give us a description of
+her."</p>
+<p>"Spanish type," said Robert tersely. "Very pleasant; smiled a
+lot and had gold fillings in her teeth. Must have been quite
+handsome when she was young."</p>
+<p>The inspector stroked his chin reflectively. "Didn't set the bag
+down, did you? ... when you pointed out the way, for instance?"</p>
+<p>"Let me see.... Why, yes--I did. I hadn't thought of
+that...."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Captain of Detectives I.W. Lees was making a record for himself
+among the nation's crime-detectors. He was a swarthy little man,
+implacable as an Indian and as pertinacious on a trail. He never
+forgot a face and no amount of disguise could hide its identity
+from his penetrating glance. Without great vision or imagination,
+he knew criminals as did few other men; could reason from cause to
+effect within certain channels, unerringly. He was heartless,
+ruthless--some said venal. But he caught and convicted felons,
+solved the problems of his office by a dogged perseverance that
+ignored defeat. For, with a mind essentially tricky, he anticipated
+tricksters--unless their operations were beyond his scope.</p>
+<p>It was 10 o'clock at night, but he was still at work upon a case
+which, up to now, had baffled him--a case of opium smuggling--when
+Robert and Benito entered. At first he listened to them
+inattentively. But at Robert's story of the woman, he became
+electrified.</p>
+<p>"Rose Terranza! Dance hall girl back in the Eldorado days! Queen
+of the Night Life under half a dozen names! Smiling Rose, some
+called her. Good clothes and gold in her teeth! I've her
+picture--wait a minute." He pulled a cord; a bell jangled
+somewhere. An officer entered.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Chinatown at midnight. Dark and narrow streets; fat, round paper
+lanterns here and there above dim doorways; silent forms,
+soft-shuffling, warily alert.</p>
+<p>"Wait one minee," said Po Lun. "I find 'em door."</p>
+<p>Following the Chinaman were Captain Lees, with his half a dozen
+"plain clothes men," Benito, Robert and the mail inspector.
+Presently Po spoke again. "Jus' alound co'ne'" (corner), he
+whispered. "Me go ahead. Plitty soon you come. You hea' me makem
+noise ... allee same cat."</p>
+<p>Lees descried him as he paused before a dimly lighted door.
+Evidently he was challenged; gave a countersign. For the door swung
+back. Po Lun passed through. Nothing happened for a time. Then a
+piercing feline wail stabbed through the night.</p>
+<p>"M-i-i-a-o-w-r-r-r!"</p>
+<p>Lees sprang forward, pressed his weight against the partly-open
+portal; flashed his dark lantern on two figures struggling
+violently. His hand fell on the collar of Po Lun's antagonist; a
+policeman's "billy" cracked upon his skull. "Tie and gag him," said
+the captain. "Leave a man on guard.... The rest of you come
+on."</p>
+<p>Po Lun leading, they went, single file through utter blackness.
+Now and then the white disc of Lees' lantern, now in Po Lun's hand,
+gleamed like a guiding will-o-wisp upon the tortuous path.</p>
+<p>Suddenly Benito felt the presence of new personalities. They
+seemed to be in a room with other people. Several dark lamps
+flashed at Po Lun's signal. They revealed a room sumptuously
+furnished. Teakwood chairs, with red embroidered backs and
+cushions, stood about the walls. Handsome gilded grillwork screened
+a boudoir worthy of a queen. Clad in the laciest of robes de
+chambre, a dark-skinned woman sat on the edge of a canopied bed.
+She was past her first youth, but still of remarkable beauty. At
+the foot of the bed stood McTurpin--pale ghost of his former self.
+He looked like a cornered rat ... and quite as dangerous. Two
+Chinese were crouched against a lacquered screen.</p>
+<p>"What do you want?" asked the woman, her voice shrill with
+anger.</p>
+<p>"Take your hand out from under that pillow!" ordered Lees. "No
+nonsense, Smiling Rose."</p>
+<p>Reluctantly the ringed and tapered fingers that had clutched
+apparently a hidden weapon came into view. "Light the lamps," said
+Lees, and one of his men performed this office.</p>
+<p>"That's the woman, father," spoke young Robert,
+unexpectedly.</p>
+<p>"Put the bracelets on her," ordered Lees, "and search the
+place." A man stepped forward.</p>
+<p>But they had not counted on McTurpin. "Let her be," he screamed.
+A pistol flashed. The officer went down at Rose's feet.</p>
+<p>Instantly there was confusion. The room was filled with
+shuffling Oriental figures. The lights went out. Powder-flashes
+leaped like fireflies in the darkness. Through it all Lees could be
+heard profanely giving orders.</p>
+<p>Then, as swiftly, it was over. Somewhere a door closed. Lees
+leaped forward just in time to hear an iron bar clang into
+place.</p>
+<p>"Gone," he muttered, as his light searched vainly for the
+woman.</p>
+<p>"Who's that on the bed?" asked Benito.</p>
+<p>"The cursed opium-wreck, McTurpin," Lees replied impatiently. "I
+planted him when I saw Dick go down." He bent above the wounded
+officer while Benito relighted the lamps and examined curiously the
+body of his ancient enemy. For McTurpin was dead. He had evidently
+tried to reach the woman as he fell. His clawlike fingers clutched,
+in rigor mortis, her abandoned robe. On the floor, where it had
+fallen from her bosom, doubtless in the hasty flight, there lay a
+crumpled, bloodstained envelope. Robert springing forward, seized
+it with an exclamation. It was addressed to William C. Ralston.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXIV"></a>CHAPTER LXIV</h2>
+<h3>AN IDOL TOPPLES</h3>
+<br>
+<p>News had come in early spring of Robert Windham senior's death
+in Monterey; less than two months afterward his wife, Anita, lay
+beside him in the Spanish cemetery.</p>
+<p>The old Californians were passing; here and there some venerable
+Hidalgo played the host upon broad acres as in ancient days and
+came to San Francisco, booted, spurred, attended by a guard of
+vaqueros. But a new generation gazed at him curiously and, after a
+lonely interval, he departed.</p>
+<p>Market street was now a lordly thoroughfare; horse-cars jingled
+merrily along the leading streets. Up Clay street ran that wonder
+of the age, a cable-tram invented by old Hallidie, the engineer.
+They had made game of him for years until he demonstrated his
+invention for the conquering of hills. Now the world was seeking
+him to solve its transportation problems.</p>
+<p>Ralston, as usual, was riding on the crest of fortune. His was a
+veritable lust for city building. Each successive day he founded
+some new enterprise.</p>
+<p>"Like a master juggler," said Benito to his wife, "he keeps a
+hundred interests in the air. Let's see. There are the Mission
+Woolen Mills, the Kimball Carriage Works, the Cornell Watch
+Factory--of all things--the West Coast Furniture plant, the San
+Francisco Sugar Refinery, the Grand Hotel, a dry dock at Hunter's
+Point, the California Theater, a reclamation scheme at Sherman
+Island, the San Joaquin Valley irrigating system, the Rincon Hill
+cut, the extension of Montgomery street ..." he checked them off on
+his fingers, pausing finally for lack of breath.</p>
+<p>"You've forgotten the Palace Hotel," said Alice smiling.</p>
+<p>"No," Benito said, "I hadn't got that far. But the Palace is
+typical. Ralston wants San Francisco to have the best of everything
+the world can give. He's mad about this town. It's wife and child
+to him. Why it's almost his God!"</p>
+<p>Alice looked into his eyes. "You're fearful for your prince! You
+Monte Cristo!"</p>
+<p>"Yes," he said, "I'm frankly worried. Something's got to
+drop.... It's too--too splendid."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>As he went down Market street toward Montgomery, Benito paused
+to observe the new Palace Hotel. Hundreds of bricklayers,
+carpenters and other workmen were raising it with astonishing
+speed. Hod-carriers raced up swaying ladders, steam-winches puffed
+and snorted; great vats of lime and mortar blockaded the street. It
+was to have a great inner court upon which seven galleries would
+look down. Ralston boasted he would make it a hotel for travelers
+to talk of round the world. And no one in San Francisco doubted
+it.</p>
+<p>Benito, eyes upraised to view the labors of a bustling human
+hive, almost collided with two gentlemen, who were strolling
+westward, arm in arm. He apologized. They roared endearing curses
+at him and insisted that he join them in a drink.</p>
+<p>They were J.C. Flood and W.S. O'Brien, former saloon proprietors
+now reputed multi-millionaires.</p>
+<p>Early in the seventies they had joined forces with Jim Mackey, a
+blaster, at Virginia City and a mining man named J.G. Fair. Between
+them they bought up the supposedly depleted Consolidated Virginia
+Mine, paying from $4 to $9 each for its 10,700 shares. Mining
+experts smiled good naturedly, forgot the matter. Then the world
+was brought upstanding by the news of a bonanza hitherto
+unrivaled.</p>
+<p>Con. Virginia had gained a value of $150,000,000.</p>
+<p>After he had sipped the French champagne, on which Flood
+insisted and which Windham disliked, the latter spoke of Ralston
+and his trouble with the editors. "Some of the newspapers would
+have us think he's playing recklessly, with other people's money,"
+he said with irritation.</p>
+<p>'"Well, well, and maybe he is, me b'y," returned O'Brien. "Don't
+blame the newspaper fellahs.... They've raison to be suspicious,
+Hiven knows.... Ralston's a prince. We all love the man. It's not
+that. But--," he came closer, caught both of Benito's coat lapels
+in a confidential grasp, "I'm tellin' ye this, me lad: If it should
+come to a show-down ... if certain enemies should have a chance to
+call Bill Ralston's hand, I tell ye, it would mean dee-saster!"</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>At 9 o'clock on the morning of August 25, Francisco Stanley
+entered the private door of Windham's office. He was now an
+under-editor on The Chronicle, which had developed from the old
+Dramatic Chronicle, into a daily newspaper. Benito glanced up from
+his desk a bit impatiently; it was a busy day.</p>
+<p>"What's the matter, Francisco? You're excited."</p>
+<p>"I've a right to be," the journalist spoke sharply. He glanced
+at his uncle's secretary. "I must see you alone."</p>
+<p>"Can't you come in later? I've a lot of clients waiting."</p>
+<p>"For God's sake, Uncle Ben," the younger man said desperately,
+"send them off."</p>
+<p>Benito gazed at him, astonished. Then convinced by something in
+Francisco's eyes, he nodded to the secretary who departed.</p>
+<p>"It's Ralston ... word has reached the newspapers ... his bank
+has failed."</p>
+<p>Benito sprang to his feet. "You're crazy! It's--impossible!"</p>
+<p>"Uncle Ben, IT'S TRUE!" His fingers closed almost spasmodically
+upon the other's arm.</p>
+<p>"How do you know?"</p>
+<p>"RALSTON SAYS SO. I've just come from there.... He wants
+you."</p>
+<p>Benito reached dazedly for his hat.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Benito found "Bill" Ralston in his private office, head bowed;
+eyes dully hopeless. He looked ten years older.</p>
+<p>"The Bank of California has failed," he said before the younger
+man could ask a question. "It will never reopen its doors."</p>
+<p>"I--I simply can't believe it!" After a stunned silence Benito
+spoke. He laid a hand on the banker's shoulder. "All I have is at
+your service, Ralston."</p>
+<p>"Thank you ... but it isn't any use." He looked up misty-eyed.
+"I tried to make this town the greatest in the world.... I went too
+far.... I played too big a stake. Now--" he tried to smile. "Now
+comes the reckoning."</p>
+<p>"But, God Almighty! Ralston," cried Benito, "your assets must be
+enormous.... It's only a matter of time. You'll pull through."</p>
+<p>"They won't give me time," he spoke no names, yet Windham knew
+he meant those who had turned from friends to enemies.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Two days later Francisco met Ralston coming out of the bank. His
+face was haggard. His eyes had the look of one who has been struck
+an unexpected blow.</p>
+<p>"Will the directors' meeting take place today, Mr. Ralston?"</p>
+<p>"It's in session now," he answered dully.</p>
+<p>"Ah, I thought, perhaps--since you are leaving--it had been
+postponed."</p>
+<p>Spots of red flamed in the banker's cheeks. "They've barred me
+from the meeting," he replied and hurried on.</p>
+<p>Several hours later newsboys ran through San Francisco's
+streets: "EXTRA! EXTRA!" they screamed, "ALL ABOUT RALSTON'S
+SUICIDE."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXV"></a>CHAPTER LXV</h2>
+<h3>INDUSTRIAL UNREST</h3>
+<br>
+<p>About the Bank of California was a surging press of men and
+women. The doors of that great financial institution were closed,
+blinds drawn, as on the previous day. Now and then an officer or
+director passed the guarded portals. D.O. Mills was one of these,
+his stern, ascetic face more severe than usual.</p>
+<p>Francisco Stanley pushed his way up to the carriage as it
+started.</p>
+<p>"Will the bank reopen, Mr. Mills?" he asked, walking along
+beside the moving vehicle.</p>
+<p>The financier's eyes glared from the inner shadows. "Yes, yes.
+Certainly," he snapped. "Very shortly ... as soon as we can levy an
+assessment" The coachman whipped up his horses; the carriage rolled
+off. Francisco turned to face his uncle. "What did he say?" asked
+Benito. Others crowded close to hear the young editor's answer. The
+word found it way through the crowd. "The bank will reopen....
+They'll levy an assessment.... We won't lose a cent."</p>
+<p>Gradually the throng disbanded. Everywhere one heard expressions
+of sorrow for Ralston; doubt of the story that he had destroyed his
+life. As a matter of fact a coroner's jury found that death
+resulted from cerebral attack. An insurance company waived its
+suicide exemption clause and paid his widow $50,000.</p>
+<p>The Bank of California was reopened. Ralston, buried with the
+pomp and splendor of a sorrowing multitude, was presently
+forgotten. Few new troubles came upon the land. Overspeculation in
+the Comstock lode brought economic unrest.</p>
+<p>Thousands were unemployed in San Francisco. Agitators rallied
+them at public meetings into furious and morbid groups. From the
+Eastern States came telegraphic news of strikes and violence.
+Adrian returned one evening, tired and harassed.</p>
+<p>"I don't know what's got into the working people," he said to
+Inez.</p>
+<p>"Oh, they'll get over that," pronounced Francisco, with the
+sweeping confidence of youth. "These intervals of discontent are
+periodical--like epidemics of diseases."</p>
+<p>Adrian glanced at the treatise on Political Economy in his son's
+hand. "And what would you suggest, my boy?" he asked with a faint
+smile.</p>
+<p>"Leave them alone," said Francisco. "It goes through a regular
+form. They have agitators who talk of Bloodsucking Plutocrats,
+Rights of the People and all that. But it generally ends in mere
+words."</p>
+<p>"The Paris Commune didn't end in mere words," reminded
+Adrian.</p>
+<p>"Oh, that!" Francisco was a trifle nonplussed. "Well, of
+course--"</p>
+<p>"There have been serious riots in Eastern States."</p>
+<p>"But--they had leaders. Here we've none."</p>
+<p>"I'm not so sure of that," said Adrian thoughtfully. "D'ye know
+that Irish drayman, Dennis Kearney?"</p>
+<p>"Y-e-s ... the one who used to be a sailor?"</p>
+<p>"That's the man. He's clever; knows men like a book.... Has
+power and a knack for words. He calls our Legislature 'The
+Honorable Bilks.' Wants to start a Workingmen's Party. And he'll do
+it, too, or I'm mistaken. His motto is 'The Chinese Must Go!'"</p>
+<p>"By Harry! There's a story for the paper," said Francisco. "I
+must see the fellow."</p>
+<p>Robert Windham and Po Lun were out for a morning promenade. They
+often walked together of a Sunday. Robert, though he was now
+twenty-six, still retained his childhood friendship for the Chinese
+servitor; found him an agreeable, often-times a sage companion.
+Urged by Alice, whose ambitious love included all within her ken,
+Po Lun attended night school; he could read and write English
+passably, though the letter "r" still foiled his Oriental tongue.
+Today they were out to have a look at the new city hall.</p>
+<p>On a sand lot opposite several hundred men had gathered,
+pressing round a figure mounted on a barrel. The orator
+gesticulated violently. Now and then there were cheers. A
+brandishing of fists and canes. Po Lun halted in sudden alarm.
+"Plitty soon they get excited. They don't like Chinese. I think
+maybe best we go back."</p>
+<p>But already Po's "pig-tail" had attracted attention. The speaker
+pointed to him.</p>
+<p>"There's one of them Heathen Chinese," he cried shrilly. "The
+dirty yaller boys what's takin' bread out of our mouths. Down with
+them, I say. Make this a white man's country."</p>
+<p>An ominous growl came from the crowd. Several rough-looking
+fellows started toward Robert and Po Lun. The latter was for taking
+to his heels, but Robert stood his ground.</p>
+<p>"What do you fellows want?"</p>
+<p>They paused, abashed by his intrepid manner. "No offense, young
+man. We ain't after you. It's that Yaller Heathen.... The kind that
+robs us of a chance to live."</p>
+<p>"Po Lun has never robbed anyone of a chance to live. He's our
+cook ... and my friend. You leave him alone."</p>
+<p>"He sends all his money back to China," sneered another coming
+closer, brandishing a stick. "A fine American, ain't he?"</p>
+<p>"A better one than you," said Robert hotly. Anger got the better
+of his judgment and he snatched the stick out of the fellow's hand,
+broke it, threw it to the ground.</p>
+<p>Savagely they fell upon him. He went down, stunned by a blow on
+the head, a sense of crushing weight that overwhelmed his strength.
+He was vaguely conscious of a tirade of strange words, of an arm at
+the end of which was a meat cleaver, lashing about. The vindictive
+bark of a pistol. Shouts, feet running. A blue-coated form. A
+vehicle with champing horses that stood by.</p>
+<p>"Are you hurt very bad, young feller?"</p>
+<p>Robert moved his arms and legs. They appeared intact. He rose,
+stiffly. "Where's Po Lun?"</p>
+<p>"In the wagon."</p>
+<p>Robert, turning, observed an ambulance. "Not--dead?"</p>
+<p>"Well, pretty near it," said the policeman. "He saved your life
+though, the yellow devil. Laid out half a dozen of them hoodlums
+with a hatchet. He's shot through the lungs. But Doc. says he's got
+a chance."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Late that afternoon William T. Coleman sat closeted with Chief
+Ellis of the San Francisco police. Coleman bore but scant
+resemblance to the youth of 1856. He was heavier, almost bald,
+moustached, more settled, less alert in manner. Yet his eyes had in
+them still the old invincible gleam of leadership.</p>
+<p>"But," he was saying to the man in uniform, "that was twenty
+years ago. Can't you find a younger chap to head your Citizens'
+Committee?"</p>
+<p>"No," said Ellis shortly. "You're the one we need. You know the
+way to deal with outlaws ... how to make the citizens respond. Do
+you know that the gang wrecked several Chinese laundries after the
+attack on Windham? That they threaten to burn the Pacific Mail
+docks?"</p>
+<p>Chief Ellis drew a little nearer. "General McComb of the State
+forces has called a mass meeting. He wishes you to take
+charge...."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXVI"></a>CHAPTER LXVI</h2>
+<h3>THE PICK-HANDLE BRIGADE</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Benito found his son awaiting when he returned from the
+Citizens' Mass Meeting at midnight. Robert, insisting that he was
+"fit as a fiddle," had nevertheless been put to bed through the
+connivance of an anxious mother and the family physician, who found
+him to have suffered some severe contusions and lacerations in the
+morning's fray. But he was wide awake and curious when his father's
+latch key grated in the door.</p>
+<p>"It must have seemed like old times, didn't it, dad?" he asked
+with enthusiasm. The Vigilance Committee of the Fifties in his
+young mind was a knightly company. As a boy he used to listen,
+eager and excited, to his father's tales of Coleman. Now his hero
+was again to take the stage.</p>
+<p>"Yes, it took me back," said Windham. "I was about your age then
+and Coleman was just in his thirties." He sat down a trifle
+wearily. "The years aren't kind. Some of the fellows who were young
+in '56 seemed old tonight.... But they have the same spirit."</p>
+<p>"Tell me what happened," said Robert, after a pause.</p>
+<p>Benito's eyes flashed. "You should have heard them cheer when
+Coleman rose. He called for his old comrades and we stood up. Then
+there was more cheering. Coleman is all business. He commenced at
+once enrolling men for his pick-handle brigade; he's refused
+fire-arms. He has fifteen hundred already, divided into companies
+of a hundred each--with their own officers."</p>
+<p>"And are you an officer, dad?" asked Robert.</p>
+<p>"Yes," Benito smiled. "But my company is one man short. We've
+only ninety-nine."</p>
+<p>"How's that?" Robert's tone was puzzled.</p>
+<p>Windham rose. "I'm saving it," he answered, "for a wounded hero,
+who, I rather hope, will volunteer."</p>
+<p>"FATHER!" cried the young man rapturously.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>At the Mount Zion Hospital Po Lun fought with death on Tuesday.
+The bullet was removed; but though this brought relief, there came
+an aftermath of fever and destroying weakness. Alice and her son
+were at his bedside, but Po Lun did not recognize them.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Windham turned a tear-stained face to the physician. "Can
+nothing be done?" she pleaded. "He saved my boy.... Oh, doctor! You
+won't let him die."</p>
+<p>The young physician's sympathy showed plainly in his eyes. "I've
+done everything," he said. "He's sinking. If I knew a way to rouse
+him there might be a chance."</p>
+<p>As he spoke Francisco Stanley entered, viewed the silent figure
+on the cot and shook his head. "Poor Po Lun. At any rate he's been
+a hero in the papers. I've seen to that ..."</p>
+<p>"He was delirious all morning ... stretching out his arms and
+calling 'Hang Far! Hang Far!' Do you know what it means?"</p>
+<p>"I do," Alice answered; "it's the girl from whom he was
+separated nearly twenty years ago."</p>
+<p>"Why--that's funny," said Francisco. "Yesterday a woman by that
+name was captured by the mission-workers in a raid on Chinatown. I
+wonder.... Could it be the same one?"</p>
+<p>"Not likely," the physician answered. "It's a common name, I
+think. Still--" he looked at Po Lun.</p>
+<p>"Run and get her," Alice urged. "It's a chance. Go quickly."</p>
+<p>Half an hour passed; an hour, while the watchers waited at the
+bedside of Po Lun. Gradually his respiration waned. Several times
+the nurse called the physician, thinking death had come. But a
+spark still lingered, growing fainter with the minutes till a mist
+upon a mirror was the only sign that breath remained.</p>
+<p>Suddenly there was a rush of feet, a door flung open and
+Francisco entered, half dragging a Chinese woman by the arm. She
+gazed with frantic eyes from Alice to Robert till her glance took
+in the figure on the bed. She stared at it curiously,
+incredulously. Then she gave a little cry and flung herself toward
+Po Lun.</p>
+<p>What she said no one there present knew. What strange cabal she
+invoked is still a mystery. Be that as it may, eyes which had
+seemed closed forever, opened. Lips white, bloodless, breathed a
+scarce-heard whisper.</p>
+<p>"<i>Hang Far</i>!"</p>
+<p>"Come," said Alice. "Let us leave them together."</p>
+<p>Half an later, in an ante-room, the doctor told them: "He will
+live, I think. It's very like a miracle...."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>At the foot of Brannan street lay the Pacific Mail docks, where
+the Chinese laborers were landed. Many thousands of them had been
+brought there by the steamers from Canton. They had solved vexed
+problems as house servants, fruit pickers, tillers of the soil;
+they had done the rough work in the building of many bridges, the
+stemming of turbulent streams, the construction of highways. And
+while there was work for all, they had caused little trouble.</p>
+<p>Now half a thousand jobless workers, armed and reckless, marched
+toward the docks. They bore torches, which illuminated fitfully
+their flushed, impassioned faces. Here and there one carried a
+transparency described, "The Chinese Must Go."</p>
+<br>
+<a name="page308.jpg"></a>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/page308.jpg" width="85%" alt=
+""><br>
+<b>Half a thousand jobless workers, armed and reckless, marched
+toward the docks. They bore torches.... "A hell-bent crew," said
+Ellis.</b></p>
+<br>
+<p>Chief Ellis and a squad of mounted policemen watched them as
+they marched down Second street, shouting threats and waving their
+firebrands. "They're a hell-bent crew," he said to William Coleman.
+"Is your posse ready?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," he answered, "they've assembled near the dock. I've
+twenty companies."</p>
+<p>"Good.... You'll need 'em all."</p>
+<p>As he spoke a tongue of flame leaped upward from the darkness.
+Another and another.</p>
+<p>"They've fired the lumber yards," the chief said. "I expected
+that. There is fire apparatus on the spot.... It's time to
+move."</p>
+<p>He spurred forward, rounding up his officers. Coleman rode
+silently toward the entrance of the docks. Very soon a bugle
+sounded. There were staccato orders; then a tramp of feet.</p>
+<p>The Citizens' army moved in perfect unison toward the fires.
+Already engines were at work. One blaze was extinguished. Then came
+sounds of battle. Cries, shots. Coleman and his men rushed
+forward.</p>
+<p>Stones and sticks flew through the air. Now and then a pistol
+barked. The mounted police descended with a clatter, clubbing their
+way into the throng. But they did not penetrate far, so dense was
+the pack; it hemmed them about, pulling officers from their horses.
+The fire engines had been stopped. One of them was pushed into the
+bay.</p>
+<p>More fires leaped from incendiary torches. The rioters seemed
+triumphant. Then Coleman's brigade fell upon them.</p>
+<p>Whack, whack, whack, fell the pick-handles upon the backs,
+shoulders, sometimes heads of rioters. It was like a systematic
+tattoo. Coleman's voice was heard directing, here and there, cool
+and dispassionate. A couple of locomotive headlights threw their
+glare upon the now disordered gangsters. Whack! Whack! Whack!</p>
+<p>Suddenly the rioters, bleating, panic-stricken, fled like
+frightened sheep. They scattered in every direction leader*-less,
+completely routed. The fire engines resumed work. An ambulance came
+up and the work of attending the wounded began. The fight was
+over.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXVII"></a>CHAPTER LXVII</h2>
+<h3>DENNIS KEARNEY</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Weeks went by and brought no further outbreak. Chinatown which,
+for a time, was shuttered, fortified, almost deserted, once again
+resumed its feverish activities. In the theaters, funny men made
+jokes about the labor trouble. In the East strikes had abated. All
+seemed safe and orderly again.</p>
+<p>But San Francisco had yet to deal with Dennis Kearney.</p>
+<p>Dennis, born in County Cork just thirty years before, filled
+adventurous roles since his eleventh year, mostly on the so-called
+"hell-ships" which beat up and down the mains of trade. In 1868 he
+first set foot in San Francisco as an officer of the clipper
+"Shooting Star." Tiring of the sea he put his earnings in a draying
+enterprise. This, for half a dozen years, had prospered.</p>
+<p>Suddenly he cast his business interests to the winds. Became a
+labor agitator.</p>
+<p>Francisco Stanley, who had sought him, questing for an interview
+since morning, cornered him at last in Bob Woodward's What Cheer
+House at Sacramento and Leidesdorff streets. It was one of those
+odd institutions found only in this vividly bizarre metropolis of
+the West. For "two bits" you could get a bed and breakfast at the
+What Cheer House, both clean and wholesome enough for the proudest.
+If you had not the coin, it made little difference. One room was
+fitted out as a museum and contained the many curious articles
+which had found their way into Woodward's hands. Another room was
+the hotel library; the first free reading room in San
+Francisco.</p>
+<p>At the What Cheer House all kinds of people gathered. Stanley,
+as he peeped into the library, noted a judge of the Superior Court
+poring over a volume of Dickens. He waved a salute to
+tousle-haired, eagle-beaked Sam Clemens, whose Mark Twain articles
+were beginning to attract attention from the Eastern publishers.
+Near him, quietly sedate, absorbed in Macaulay, was Bret Harte. He
+had been a Wells-Fargo messenger, miner, clerk and steam-boat hand,
+so rumor said, and now he was writing stories of the West. Stanley
+would have liked to stop and chat ... but Kearney must be found and
+interviewed before The Chronicle went to press.</p>
+<p>Presently a loud, insistent voice attracted his attention. It
+was penetrating, violent, denunciatory. Francisco knew that voice.
+He went into an outer room where perhaps a dozen rough-clad men
+were gathered about a figure of medium height, compactly built,
+with a broad head, shifting blue eyes and a dynamic, nervous
+manner.</p>
+<p>"Don't forget," he pounded fist on palm for emphasis, "on August
+18 we organize the party. Johnny Day will be the prisident. We'll
+make thim bloody plutocrats take notice." He paused, catching sight
+of Stanley. Instantly his frowning face became all smiles. "Ah,
+here's me young friend, the reporter," he said. "Come along Misther
+Stanley, and I'll give yez a yarn for the paper. Lave me tell ye of
+the Workingmen's Trade and Labor Union."</p>
+<p>He kept Francisco's pencil busy.</p>
+<p>"There ain't no strings on us. We're free from all political
+connections. We're for oursilves. Get that."</p>
+<p>"Our password's 'The Chinese Must Go.'"</p>
+<p>"How do you propose to accomplish this?" asked Stanley.</p>
+<p>"Aisy enough," returned the other with supreme confidence.
+"We'll have the treaty wid Chiny changed. We'll sind back all the
+yellow divils if they interfere wid us Americans."</p>
+<p>Stanley could not repress a smile. Kearney himself had been
+naturalized only a year before.</p>
+<p>For an hour he unfolded principles, threatened men of wealth,
+pounded Stanley's knee until it was sore and finally stalked off,
+highly pleased with himself.</p>
+<p>"He's amusing enough," said Francisco to his father that
+evening. "But we mustn't underrate him as you said. The fellow has
+force. He knows the way to stir up human passion and he'll use his
+knowledge to the full. Also he knows equity and law. Some of his
+ideas are altruistic."</p>
+<p>"What is he going to do to the Central Pacific nabobs if they
+don't discharge their Chinese laborers?" asked Adrian.</p>
+<p>Young Stanley laughed. "He threatens to dynamite their castles
+on the hill."</p>
+<p>His father did not answer immediately. "It may not be as funny
+as you think," he commented.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>With the weeks Po Lun mended rapidly. Hang Far was at his
+bedside many hours each day. Alice often found them chatting
+animatedly.</p>
+<p>"When I get plenty well, we mally," Po informed her. "Maybeso go
+back to China. What you say, Missee Alice?"</p>
+<p>"I think you'd better stay with me," she countered. "As for Hang
+Far, we'll find room for her." She smiled dolefully. "I'm getting
+to be an old lady, Po Lun ... I need more help in the house."</p>
+<p>"You nebbeh get old, Missee Alice," said the sick man. "Twenty
+yea' I know you--always like li'l gi'l."</p>
+<p>"Nonsense, Po!" cried Alice. Nevertheless she was pleased. "Will
+you and Hang Far stay with me?"</p>
+<p>"I t'ink so, Missee," Po replied. "By 'n' by we take one li'l
+tlip fo' honeymoon. But plitty soon come back."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>The labor movement grew and Dennis with it--both in
+self-importance and in popularity. He went about the State making
+speeches, threatening the "shoddy aristocrats who want an emperor
+and a standing army to shoot down the people."</p>
+<p>Every Sunday he harangued a crowd of his adherents on a sand-lot
+near the city hall and owing to this fact his followers were dubbed
+"The Sand-Lot Party." One day Robert, after hearing them discourse,
+returned home shaken and angry.</p>
+<p>"The man's a maniac," he told his father; "he talked of nothing
+but lynching railroad magnates and destroying their property. He
+wants to blow up the Pacific Mail docks and burn the steamers ...
+to drop dynamite from balloons on Chinatown."</p>
+<p>Young Stanley joined them, smiling, and dropped into a chair.
+"Whew!" he exclaimed, "it's been a busy day down at the office.
+Have you heard that Dennis Kearney's been arrested?"</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXVIII"></a>CHAPTER LXVIII</h2>
+<h3>THE WOMAN REPORTER</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Francisco stayed for tea and chatted of events. Yes, Dennis
+Kearney was in jail and making a great hullabaloo about it. He and
+five of his lieutenants had been arrested after an enthusiastic
+meeting on the Barbary Coast.</p>
+<p>"And what's the Workingmen's Trade and Labor Union doing?"
+Robert asked.</p>
+<p>"Oh, muttering and threatening as usual," Francisco laughed.
+"They'll not do anything--with the memory of Coleman's 1500
+pick-handles fresh in their minds...."</p>
+<p>"Well, I'm glad those murderous ruffians are behind the bars,"
+said Alice. But Francisco took her up. "That's rather hard on them,
+Aunt Alice," he retorted. "They're only a social reaction of the
+times ... when railroad millionaires have our Legislature by the
+throat and land barons refuse to divide their great holdings and
+give the small farmer a chance.... Kearney, aside from his rant of
+violence, which he doesn't mean, is advocating much-needed
+reforms.... I was talking with Henry George today...."</p>
+<p>"He's the new city gas and water inspector, isn't he?" asked
+Benito. "They tell me he's writing a book."</p>
+<p>"Yes, 'Progress and Poverty.' George believes the single tax
+will cure all social wrongs. But Jean...." He hesitated,
+flushing.</p>
+<p>"Jean?" His aunt was quick to sense a mystery. "Who is
+Jean?"</p>
+<p>"Oh, she's the new woman reporter," said Francisco hastily. He
+rose, "Well, I'll be going now."</p>
+<p>His aunt looked after him in silent speculation. "So!" she spoke
+half to herself. "Jean's the woman reporter." And for some occult
+reason she smiled.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Robert saw them together some days later, talking very earnestly
+as they walked through "Pauper Alley." Such was the title bestowed
+upon Leidesdorff street between California and Pine streets, where
+the "mudhens"--those bedraggled, wretched women speculators who
+still waited hungrily for scanty crumbs from Fortune's
+table--chatted with broken-down and shabby men in endless
+reminiscent gabble of great fortunes they had "almost won."</p>
+<p>"Miss Norwall's going to do some 'human interest sketches,' as
+they call 'em," Francisco explained as he introduced his cousin.
+"Our editor believes in a 'literary touch' for the paper. Something
+rather new."</p>
+<p>Jean Norwall held out her hand. She was an attractive,
+bright-eyed girl in her early twenties, with a searching, friendly
+look, as though life were full of surprises which she was eager to
+probe. "So you are Robert," she remarked. "Francisco's talked a lot
+about you."</p>
+<p>"That was good of him," the young man answered. "He's talked a
+deal of you as well, Miss Norwall."</p>
+<p>"Oh, indeed!"' She reddened slightly. "Well, we must be getting
+on."</p>
+<p>Robert raised his hat and watched them disappear around the
+corner. There was a vaguely lonesome feeling somewhere in the
+region of his heart. He went on past the entrance of the San
+Francisco Stock Exchange and almost collided with a bent-over,
+shrewd-faced man, whose eagle-beak and penetrating eyes were a
+familiar sight along California street.</p>
+<p>He was E.J. (better known as "Lucky") Baldwin, who had started
+the Pacific Stock Exchange.</p>
+<p>Baldwin had a great ranch in the South, where he bred blooded
+horses. He owned the Baldwin theater and the Baldwin Hotel, which
+rivaled the Palace. Women, racing and stocks were his hobbies.
+Benito had done some legal work for Baldwin and Robert knew him
+casually. Rather to his surprise Baldwin stopped, laid a hand on
+the young man's shoulder.</p>
+<p>"Hello, lad," he greeted; "want a tip on the stock market?"</p>
+<p>Tips from "Lucky" were worth their weight in gold. Robert was
+astonished. "Why--yes, thank you, sir," he stammered.</p>
+<p>"Well, don't play it ... that's the best tip in the world." The
+operator walked off chuckling.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Robert continued his walk along Montgomery street to Market,
+where he turned westward. It was Saturday and his father's office,
+where he was now studying law, had been closed since noon. It had
+become a custom--almost an unwritten law--to promenade San
+Francisco's lordly thoroughfare on the last afternoon of the week,
+especially the northern side. For Market street was now a social
+barrier. South of it were smaller, meaner shops, saloons,
+beer-swilling "cafe chantants," workmen's eating houses and the
+like, with, of course, the notable exceptions of the Grand and
+Palace Hotels.</p>
+<p>On the northern side were the gay haberdasheries, millinery
+stores, cafes and various business marts, where fashionable San
+Francisco shopped. Where men with top hats, walking sticks and
+lavender silk waistcoats ogled the feminine fashion parade.</p>
+<p>As he passed the Baldwin Hotel with its broadside of
+bow-windows, Robert became aware of some disturbance. A large dray
+drawn by four horses, plumed and flower garlanded, was wending a
+triumphal course up Market street. A man stood in the center of it
+waving his hat--a stocky fellow in soiled trousers and an old gray
+sweater. Shouts of welcome hailed him as the dray rolled on; most
+of them came from the opposite or southern side.</p>
+<p>"It's Dennis Kearney," said a man near Robert. "He and his gang
+were released from custody today.... Now we'll have more
+trouble."</p>
+<p>Robert followed the dray expectantly. But Kearney made no overt
+demonstration. He seemed much subdued by his fortnight in jail.</p>
+<p>The swift California dusk was falling. The afternoon was gone.
+And Robert, realizing that it was past the dinner hour at his home,
+decided to find his evening meal at a restaurant. One of these,
+with a display of shell-fish grouped about a miniature fountain in
+its window, confronted him ere long and he entered a rococo
+interior of mirrored walls. What caught his fancy more than the
+ornate furnishings, however, was a very pretty girl sitting within
+a cashier's cage of iron grill-work.</p>
+<p>It happened that she was smiling as he glanced her way. She had
+golden hair with a hint of red in it, a dainty oval face, like his
+mother's; eyes that were friendly and eager with youth. Robert
+smiled back at her involuntarily.</p>
+<p>The smile still lingered as a man came forward to adjust his
+score. A keen, dynamic-looking man of middle years and an imposing
+presence. Robert watched him just a little envious of his assured
+manner as he threw down a gold-piece. While the fair cashier was
+making change he grinned at her. "How's my little girl tonight?"
+Reaching through the aperture, he chucked her suddenly beneath the
+chin. Tears of mortification sprang into her eyes. Impulsively
+Robert stepped forward, crowding the other aside none too
+gently.</p>
+<p>"I beg your pardon," he was breathless, half astounded by his
+own temerity. "But--can I be of any--ah--service?"</p>
+<p>"Puppy!" stormed the elder man and stalked out haughtily. The
+girl's eyes encountered Robert's, shining, grateful for an instant.
+Then they fell. Her face grew grave. "You shouldn't have ...
+really.... That was Isaac J. Kalloch."</p>
+<p>"Oh, the preacher that's running for Mayor," Robert's tone was
+abashed. "But I don't care," he added, "I'm glad I did."</p>
+<p>Once again the girl's eyes met his, shyly. "So am I," she
+whispered.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXIX"></a>CHAPTER LXIX</h2>
+<h3>A NEW GENERATION</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Isaac S. Kalloch was the labor candidate for mayor. People said
+he was the greatest pulpit orator in San Francisco since Starr
+King. His Sunday sermons at the Metropolitan Temple were crowded;
+as a campaign orator he drew great throngs.</p>
+<p>Robert's dislike for the man was mitigated by a queer
+involuntary gratitude. Without that bit of paternal familiarity,
+which had goaded the young lawyer to impulsive protective
+championship, he and Maizie Carter, the little golden-haired
+cashier, might have found the road to comradeship much longer.</p>
+<p>For comrades they had become almost at once. At least so they
+fondly fancied. Robert's mother wondered why he missed so many
+meals from home. The rococo restaurant gained a steady customer.
+And the host of cavaliers who lingered in the hope of seeing Maizie
+home each evening diminished to one. He was often invited into the
+vine-clad cottage at the top of Powell street hill. Sometimes he
+sat with Maizie on a haircloth sofa and looked at Mrs. Carter's
+autograph album. It contained some great names that were now no
+longer written. James Lick, David Broderick, Colonel E.D. Baker and
+the still lamented Ralston, of whom Maizie's mother never tired of
+talking. He, it seems, was wont to give her tips on mining stocks.
+Acting on them, she had once amassed $10,000.</p>
+<p>"But I lost it all after the poor, dear man passed away," she
+would say, with a tear in her eye. "Once that fellow Mills--I hate
+his fishy eyes!--looked straight at me and said, 'See the poor old
+mud-hen'!"</p>
+<p>She began to weep softly. Maizie sprang to comfort her, stroking
+the stringy gray hair with tender, youthful fingers. "Mother quit
+the market after that. She hasn't been near Pauper Alley for a year
+... not since I've been working at the Mineral Cafe. And we've
+three hundred dollars in the bank."</p>
+<p>"Ah, yes," said the mother, fondly. "Maizie's a brave girl and a
+thrifty one. We're comfortable--and independent, even though the
+rich grind down the poor." Her eyes lighted. "Wait till Kalloch is
+elected ... then we'll see better times, I'll warrant."</p>
+<p>Robert was too courteous to express his doubts.</p>
+<p>Later he discussed the situation with Francisco. His paper had
+printed an "expose" of Kalloch, who struck back with bitter
+personal denunciation of his editorial foes. "It's a nasty mess,"
+Francisco said disgustedly.</p>
+<p>"Broderick used to tell my father that politics had always been
+a rascal's paradise because decent men wouldn't run for office--nor
+vote half of the time.... I'm going to write an article about it
+for The Overland. And Pixley of the Argonaut has given me a chance
+to do some stories. I shall be an author pretty soon--like Harte
+and Clemens."</p>
+<p>"Or a poet like this Cincinnatus Heinie Miller, whom one hears
+about. Fancy such a name. I should think he'd change it."</p>
+<p>"He has already," laughed Francisco. "Calls himself
+Joaquin--after Marietta, the bandit. Joaquin Miller--rather catchy,
+isn't it? And he's written some really fine lines. Showed me one
+the other day that's called 'Columbus.' It's majestic. I tell you
+that fellow will be famous one day."</p>
+<p>"Pooh!" scoffed Robert; "he's a poseur--ought to be an actor,
+with his long hair and boots and sash.... How is the fair
+Jeanne?"</p>
+<p>Francisco's face clouded. "I want her to leave newspaper work
+and try literature," he said, "but Jeanne's afraid to cut loose.
+She's earning her living ... and she's alone in the world. No one
+to fall back on, you know."</p>
+<p>"But she'd make more money at real writing, wouldn't she?" asked
+Robert. "Ever since Harte wrote that thing about 'The Luck of
+Roaring Camp,' which the lady proofreader said was indecent, he's
+had offers from the Eastern magazines. John Carmony's paying him
+$5,000 a year to edit the Overland and $100 for each poem or story
+he writes."</p>
+<p>"Ah, yes, but Bret Harte is a genius."</p>
+<p>"Maybe Jeanne's another," Robert ventured.</p>
+<p>Francisco laughed ruefully. "I've told her that ... but she says
+no.... 'I'm just a woman,' she insists, 'and not a very bright one
+at that.' She has all kinds of faith in me, but little in herself."
+He made an impatient gesture. "What can a fellow do?"</p>
+<p>Robert looked at him a moment thoughtfully. "Why not--marry
+Jeanne?"</p>
+<p>Dull red crept into Francisco's cheeks. Then he laughed.
+"Well--er--probably she wouldn't have me."</p>
+<p>"There's only one way to find out," his cousin persisted. "She's
+alone ... and you're soon going to be. When do your folks start on
+their 'second honeymoon,' as they call it?"</p>
+<p>"Oh, that trip around the world--why, in a month or two. As soon
+as father closes out his business."</p>
+<p>"You could have the house then--you and Jeanne."</p>
+<p>"Say!" exclaimed Francisco suddenly, "you're such a Jim Dandy to
+manage love affairs! Why don't you get married yourself?"</p>
+<p>It was Robert's turn to flush. "I'm quite willing," he said
+shortly.</p>
+<p>"Won't she have you?" asked his cousin sympathetically.</p>
+<p>"'Tisn't that ... it's her mother. Maizie won't leave her ...
+and she won't bring her into our home. Mrs. Carter's peculiar ...
+and Maizie says we're young. Young enough to be unselfish."</p>
+<p>"She's a fine girl," returned Francisco. "Well, good bye." He
+held out a cordial hand.</p>
+<p>"I--I'll think over what you said."</p>
+<p>"Good luck, then," Robert answered as they gripped.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Adrian Stanley was closing up his affairs. As a contractor he
+had prospered; his reclaimed city lots had realized their purchase
+price a hundred fold and his judiciously conservative investments
+yielded golden fruit. Adrian was not a plunger. But in thirty years
+he had accumulated something of a fortune.... And now they were to
+travel, he and Inez, for a year or so.</p>
+<p>He had provided, too, for Francisco. The latter, though he did
+not know it, would have $20,000 to his credit in the Bank of
+California. Adrian planned to hand his son the bank deposit book
+across the gang plank as the ship cast off. They were going first
+to the Sandwich Islands. Then on to China, India, the South Seas.
+Each evening, sometimes until midnight, they perused the
+illustrated travel-folders, describing routes, hotels, trains,
+steamships.</p>
+<p>"You're like a couple of children," smiled Francisco on the
+evening before their departure. He was writing a novel, in addition
+to the other work for Carmony and Pixley. Sometimes it was hard
+work amid this unusual prattle by his usually sedate and silent
+parents. He tried to imagine the house without them; his life,
+without their familiar and cherished companionship.... It would be
+lonely. Probably he would rent the place, when his novel was
+finished ... take lodgings down town.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXX"></a>CHAPTER LXX</h2>
+<h3>ROBERT AND MAIZIE</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Francisco saw his parents to the steamer in a carriage packed
+with luggage--shiny new bags and grips which, he reflected, would
+one day return much buffeted and covered with foreign labels. He
+had seen such bags in local households. The owners were very proud
+of them. Shakenly he patted his mother's arm and told her how young
+she was looking, whereat, for some reason, she cried. Adrian
+coughed and turned to look out of the window. None of the trio
+spoke till they reached the dock.</p>
+<p>There Mrs. Stanley gave him many directions looking to his
+health and safety. And his father puffed ferociously at a cigar.
+They had expected Jeanne to bid them good-bye, but she no doubt was
+delayed, as one so often was in newspaper work.</p>
+<p>At last it was over. Francisco stood with the bank book in his
+hand, a lump in his throat, waving a handkerchief. The ship was
+departing rapidly. He could no longer distinguish his parents among
+the black specks at the stern of the vessel. Finally he turned,
+swallowing hard and put the bank book in his pocket. What a
+thoughtful chap his father was! How generous! And how almost
+girlish his mother had looked in her new, smart travel suit! Well,
+they would enjoy themselves for a year or two. Some day he would
+travel, too, and see the world. But first there was work to do.
+Work was good. And Life was filled with Opportunity. He thought of
+Jeanne.</p>
+<p>Suddenly he determined to test Robert's advice. Now, if ever,
+was the time to challenge Providence. He had in his pocket Adrian's
+check for $20,000. The Stanley home was vacant. But more than all
+else, Jeanne was being courted by a new reporter on the
+Chronicle--a sort of poet with the dashing ways that women liked.
+He had taken Jeanne to dinner several times of late.</p>
+<p>With a decisive movement Francisco entered a telephone booth.
+Five minutes later he emerged smiling. Jeanne had broken an
+engagement with the poet chap to dine with him.</p>
+<p>Later that evening he tipped an astonished French waiter with a
+gold-piece. He and Jeanne walked under a full moon until
+midnight.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Two months after the Stanleys' departure Francisco and Jeanne
+were married and took up their abode in the Stanley home. Francisco
+worked diligently at his novel. Now and then they had Robert and
+Maizie to dinner. Both Jeanne and Francisco had a warm place in
+their hearts for little Maizie Carter. It was perfectly plain that
+she loved Robert; sometimes her eyes were plainly envious when they
+fell on Jeanne in her gingham apron, presiding over the details of
+her household with, a bride's new joy in domestic tasks. But Maizie
+was a knowing little woman, too wise to imperil her dream of Love's
+completeness with a disturbing element like her mother, growing
+daily more helpless, querulous, dependent.</p>
+<p>And she had a fine pride, this little working girl. From Robert
+she would accept no aid, despite his growing income as the junior
+partner in his father's law firm. Benito's health had not of recent
+months been robust, and Robert found upon his shoulders more and
+more of the business of the office, which acted as trustee for
+several large estates. Robert now had his private carriage, but
+Maizie would not permit his calling thus, in state, for her at the
+Mineral Cafe.</p>
+<p>"It would not look well," she said, half whimsically, yet with a
+touch of gravity, "to have a famous lawyer in his splendid coach
+call for a poor little Cinderella of a cashier." And so Robert came
+afoot each night to take her home. When it was fine they walked up
+the steep Powell street hill, gazing back at the scintillant lights
+of the town or down on the moonlit bay, with its black silhouetted
+islands, the spars of great ships and the moving lights of tugboats
+or ferries.</p>
+<p>If it were wet they rode up on the funny little cable cars,
+finding a place, whenever possible, on the forward end, which
+Maizie called the "observation platform." As they passed the Nob
+Hill mansions of Hopkins, Stanford and Crocker, and the more modest
+adobe of the Fairs, Maizie sometimes fancied herself the chatelaine
+of such a castle, giving an almost imperceptible sigh as the car
+dipped over the crest of Powell street toward the meaner levels
+just below where she and her mother lived. Their little yard was
+always bright with flowers, and from the rear window one had a
+marvelous view of the water. She seldom failed to walk into the
+back room and feast her eyes on that marine panorama before she
+returned to listen to her mother's fretful maunderings over
+vanished fortunes.</p>
+<p>Tonight as they sat with Jeanne and Francisco in front of the
+crackling fire, Maizie's hunger for a home of her own and the man
+she loved was so plain that Jeanne arose impulsively and put an arm
+about her guest. She said nothing, but Maizie understood. There was
+a lump in her throat. "I should not think such things," she told
+herself. "I am selfish ... unfilial."</p>
+<p>Robert was talking. She smiled at him bravely and listened.
+"Mother's planning to go East," she heard him say. "She's always
+wanted to, and as she grows older it's almost an obsession. So
+father's finally decided to go, too, and let me run the business
+... I'll be an orphan soon, like you, Francisco."</p>
+<p>"Oh," said Maizie. "Do you mean that you'll be all alone?"</p>
+<p>Robert smiled, "Quite.... Po Lun and Hang Far plan a trip to
+China ... want to see their parents before they die. The Chinese
+are great for honoring their forebears.... Sometimes I think," he
+added, whimsically, "that Maizie is partly Chinese."</p>
+<p>The girl flushed. Jeanne made haste to change the subject. "How
+is your friend, Dennis Kearney?" she asked Francisco.</p>
+<p>"Oh, he's left the agitator business ... he's a grain broker
+now. But Dennis started something. Capital is a little more willing
+to listen to labor. And Chinese immigration will be restricted,
+perhaps stopped altogether. The Geary Exclusion Act is before
+Congress now, and more or less certain to pass."</p>
+<p>"He's a strange fellow," said Jeanne, reminiscently. "I wonder
+if he still hates everyone who disagrees with him. Loring Pickering
+was one of his pet enemies."</p>
+<p>"Oh, Dennis is forgiving, like all Irishmen," said Robert.
+Impulsively he laid a hand on Maizie's.</p>
+<p>"Maizie is part Irish, too," he added, meaningly. The girl
+smiled at him star-eyed. For she understood.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXI"></a>CHAPTER LXXI</h2>
+<h3>THE BLIND BOSS</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Francisco met the erstwhile agitator on the street one day. He
+had made his peace with many former foes, including Pickering."</p>
+<p>"Politics is a rotten game, me b'y," he said, by way of
+explanation. "And I've a family, two little girruls at home. I want
+thim to remimber their father as something besides a blatherskite
+phin they grow up. So I'm in a rispictible business again....
+There's a new boss now, bad cess to him! Chris Buckley.</p>
+<p>"Him your Chinese friends call 'The Blind White Devil?' Yes,
+I've heard of Chris."</p>
+<p>"He keeps a saloon wid a gossoon name o' Fallon, on Bush
+street.... Go up and see him, Misther Stanley.... He's a
+fair-speakin' felly I'm told.... Ask him," Dennis whispered,
+nudging the writer's ribs with his elbow, "ask him how his gambling
+place in Platt's Hall is coming on?"</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Several days later Francisco entered the unpretentious
+establishment of Christopher Buckley. He found it more like an
+office than a drinking place; people sat about, apparently waiting
+their turn for an interview with Buckley.</p>
+<p>A small man, soft of tread and with a searching glance, asked
+Stanley's business and, learning that the young man was a writer
+for the press, blinked rapidly a few times; then he scuttled off,
+returning ere long with the information that Buckley would "see Mr.
+Stanley." Soon he found himself facing a pleasant-looking man of
+medium height, a moustache, wiry hair tinged with gray, a vailed
+expression of the eyes, which indicated some abnormality of vision,
+but did not reveal the almost total blindness with which early
+excesses had afflicted Christopher Buckley.</p>
+<p>"Sit down, my friend," spoke the boss. His tone held a crisp
+cordiality, searching and professionally genial. "What d'ye want
+... a story?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," said Stanley.</p>
+<p>"About the election?"</p>
+<p>Stanley hesitated. "Tell me about the gambling concession at
+Platt's Hall," he said suddenly.</p>
+<p>Buckley's manner changed. It became, if anything, more
+cordial.</p>
+<p>"My boy," his tone was low, "you're wasting time as a reporter.
+Listen," he laid a hand upon Francisco's knee. "I've got a job for
+you.... The new Mayor will need a secretary ... three hundred a
+month. And extras!"</p>
+<p>"What are they?" asked Francisco curiously.</p>
+<p>"Lord! I don't have to explain that to a bright young man like
+you.... People coming to the Mayor for favors. They're appreciative
+... understand?"</p>
+<p>"Well," Francisco seemed to hesitate, "let me think it over....
+Can I let you know," he smiled, "tomorrow?"</p>
+<p>Buckley nodded as Francisco rose. As soon as the latter's back
+was turned the little sharp-eyed man came trotting to his master's
+call. "Follow him. Find out what's his game," he snapped. The
+little man sped swiftly after. Buckley made another signal. The
+top-hatted representative of railway interests approached.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Francisco stopped at Robert's office on his way home. Windham
+had moved into one of the new buildings, with an elevator, on
+Kearney street. In his private office was a telephone, one of those
+new instruments for talking over a wire which still excited
+curiosity, though they were being rapidly installed by the Pacific
+Bell Company. Hotels, newspapers, the police and fire departments
+were equipped with them, but private subscribers were few,
+Francisco had noticed one of the instruments in Buckley's
+saloon.</p>
+<p>Robert had not returned from court, but was momentarily
+expected. His amanuensis ushered Francisco into the private office.
+He sat down and picked up a newspaper, glancing idly over the
+news.</p>
+<p>A bell tinkled somewhere close at hand. It must be the
+telephone. Rather gingerly, for he had never handled one before,
+Francisco picked up the receiver, put it to his ear. It was a man's
+voice insisting that a probate case be settled. Francisco tried to
+make him understand that Robert was out. But the voice went on.
+Apparently the transmitting apparatus was defective. Francisco
+could not interrupt the flow of words.</p>
+<p>"See Buckley.... He has all the judges under his thumb. Pay him
+what he asks. We must have a settlement at once."</p>
+<p>Francisco put back the receiver. So Buckley controlled the
+courts as well. He would be difficult to expose. The little plan
+for getting evidence with Robert's aid did not appear so simple
+now.</p>
+<p>Francisco waited half an hour longer, fidgeting about the
+office. Then he decided that Robert had gone for the day and went
+out. At the corner of Powell street he bumped rather
+unceremoniously into a tall figure, top-hatted, long-coated,
+carrying a stick.</p>
+<p>"I beg your pardon," he apologized. "Oh--why it's Mr.
+Pickering."</p>
+<p>"Where are you bound so--impetuously?"</p>
+<p>"Home," smiled Stanley. "Jeanne and I are going to the show
+tonight." He was about to pass on when a thought struck him. "Got a
+minute to spare, Mr. Pickering?"</p>
+<p>"Always to you, my boy," returned the editor of the Bulletin,
+with his old-fashioned courtesy.</p>
+<br>
+<a name="page330.jpg"></a>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/page330.jpg" width="85%" alt=
+""><br>
+<b>"My boy ... you're wasting your time as a reporter. Listen," he
+laid a hand upon Francisco's knee. "I've a job for you.... The new
+Mayor will need a secretary".</b></p>
+<br>
+<p>"Then, come into the Baldwin Cafe.... I want to tell you
+something."</p>
+<p>In an unoccupied corner, over a couple of glasses, Francisco
+unfolded his plan. He was somewhat abashed by Pickering's
+expression. "Very clever, Stanley ... but quite useless. It's been
+tried before. You'd better have taken the job, accumulated
+evidence; then turned it over to us. That would be the way to trap
+him ... but it's probably too late. Ten to one his sleuth has seen
+us together. Buckley's very--bright, you know."</p>
+<p>He put a hand kindly on the crestfallen young man's shoulder....
+"Go back tomorrow and see if he'll make you secretary to the Mayor.
+Then get all the 'extras' you can. Label each and bring it to me.
+I'll see that you're not misunderstood." He rose. "But I fear
+Buckley will withdraw his offer ... if so, we'll print the story of
+his Platt's Hall gambling house."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXII"></a>CHAPTER LXXII</h2>
+<h3>FATE TAKES A HAND</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Francisco found that Pickering's prophecy had been a true one.
+On a subsequent visit to the Bush street saloon he found the Blind
+Boss unapproachable. After waiting almost an hour and seeing
+several men who had come after him, led to the rear room for a
+conference, word was brought him by the little, keen-eyed man that
+the position of Mayor's secretary was already filled. He was
+exceedingly polite, expressing "Mr. Buckley's deep regret," about
+the matter. But there was in his eye a furtive mockery, in his
+tight-lipped mouth a covert sneer.</p>
+<p>Francisco went directly to the office of The Bulletin, relating
+his experience to the veteran editor. "I supposed as much," said
+Pickering. He tapped speculatively on the desk with his pencil.
+"What's more, I think there's little to be done at present.
+Printing the story of Platt's Hall will only be construed as a bit
+of political recrimination. San Francisco rather fancies gambling
+palaces."</p>
+<p>"Jack!" he called to a reporter. "See if you can locate Jerry
+Lynch." He turned to Stanley. "There's the fellow for you: Senator
+Jeremiah Lynch. Know him? Good. You get evidence on Buckley.
+Consult with Lynch concerning politics. He'll tell you ways to
+checkmate Chris you wouldn't dream of...."</p>
+<p>Pickering smiled and picked up a sheet of manuscript. Francisco
+took the hint. From that day he camped on Buckley's trail. Bit by
+bit he gathered proofs, some documentary, some testimonial. No
+single item was of great importance. But, as a whole, Robert had
+assured him, it was weaving a net in which the blind boss might one
+day find himself entrapped. Perhaps he felt its meshes now and
+then. For overtures were made to Stanley. He was offered the
+position of secretary to Mayor Pond, but he declined it. Word
+reached him of other opportunities; tips on the stock market, the
+races; he ignored them and went on.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>One night his house was broken into and his desk ransacked most
+thoroughly. Twice he was set upon at night, his pockets rifled.
+Threats came to him of personal violence. Finally the blind boss
+sent for him.</p>
+<p>"Is there anything you want--that I can give you?" Buckley
+minced no words.</p>
+<p>Stanley shook his head. Then, remembering Buckley's blindness,
+he said "No."</p>
+<p>Buckley took a few short paces up and down the room, then added:
+"I'll talk plain to you, my friend--because you're smart; too smart
+to be a catspaw for an editor and a politician who hate me. Let me
+tell you this, you'll do no good by keeping on." He spun about
+suddenly, threateningly, "You've a wife, haven't you?"</p>
+<p>"We'll not discuss that, Mr. Buckley," said Francisco
+stiffly.</p>
+<p>"Nevertheless it's true ... and children?"</p>
+<p>"N-not yet," said Francisco in spite of himself.</p>
+<p>"Oh, I see. Well, that's to be considered.... It's not what
+you'd call a time for taking chances, brother."</p>
+<p>"What d'ye mean?" Francisco was a trifle startled.</p>
+<p>"Nothing; nothing!" said the blind boss unctuously. "Think it
+over.... And remember, I'm your friend. If there's anything you
+wish, come to me for it. Otherwise--"</p>
+<p>Stanley looked at him inquiringly, but did not speak. Nor did
+Buckley close his sentence. It was left suspended like the
+Damoclesian blade. Francisco went straight home and found Jeanne
+busied with her needle and some tiny garments, which of late had
+occupied her days. He was rather silent while they dined, a bit
+uneasy.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Francisco usually went down town for lunch. There was a smart
+club called the Bohemian, where one met artists, actors, writers.
+Among them were young Keith, the landscape painter, who gave
+promise of a vogue; Charley Stoddard, big and bearded; they called
+him an etcher with words; and there were Prentice Mulford, the
+mystic; David Belasco of the Columbia Theater. Francisco got into
+his street clothes, kissed Jeanne and went out. It was a bright,
+scintillant day. He strode along whistling.</p>
+<p>At the club he greeted gaily those who sat about the room.
+Instead of answering, they ceased their talk and stared at him.
+Presently Stoddard advanced, looking very uncomfortable.</p>
+<p>"Let's go over there and have a drink," he indicated a secluded
+corner. "I want a chat with you."</p>
+<p>"Oh, all right," said Francisco. He followed Stoddard, still
+softly whistling the tune which had, somehow, caught his fancy.
+They sat down, Charley Stoddard looking preternaturally grave.</p>
+<p>"Well, my boy," Francisco spoke, "what's troubling you?"</p>
+<p>"Oh--ah--" said the other, "heard from your folks lately,
+Francisco?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, they're homeward bound. Ought to be off Newfoundland by
+now."</p>
+<p>The drinks came. Stanley raised his glass, drank, smiling.
+Stoddard followed, but he did not smile. "Can you bear a shock, old
+chap?" He blurted. "I--they--dammit man--the ship's been
+wrecked."</p>
+<p>Francisco set his glass down quickly. He was white. "The--The
+Raratonga?"</p>
+<p>Stoddard nodded. There was silence. Then, "Was
+any-body--drowned?"</p>
+<p>Stanley did not need an answer. It was written large in
+Stoddard's grief-wrung face. He got up, made his way unsteadily to
+the door. A page came running after with his hat and stick and he
+took them absently. Nearby was a newspaper office, crowds about it,
+bulletins announcing the Raratonga's total destruction with all on
+board.</p>
+<p>Francisco began to walk rapidly, without a definite sense of
+direction. He found relief in that. The trade-wind was sharp in his
+face and he pulled his soft hat down over his eyes. Presently he
+found himself in an unfamiliar locality--the water-front--amid a
+bustling rough-spoken current of humanity that eddied forward and
+back. There were many sailors. From the doors of innumerable
+saloons came the blare of orchestrions; now and then a drunken
+song.</p>
+<p>Entering one of the swinging doors, Francisco called for whisky.
+He felt suddenly a need for stimulant. The men at the long counter
+looked at him curiously. He was not of their kind. A little
+sharp-eyed man who was playing solitaire at a table farther back,
+looked up interested. He pulled excitedly at his chin, rose and
+signed to a white-coated servitor. They had their heads
+together.</p>
+<p>It was almost noon the following day when Chief Mate Chatters of
+the whaleship Greenland, en route for Behring Sea, went into the
+forecastle to appraise some members of a crew hastily and
+informally shipped. "Shanghaiing," it was called. But one had to
+have men. One paid the waterfront "crimps" a certain sum and asked
+no questions.</p>
+<p>"Who the devil's this?" He indicated a man sprawled in one of
+the bunks, who, despite a stubble of beard and ill-fitting sea
+clothes, was unmistakably a gentleman.</p>
+<p>"Don't know--rum sort for a sailor. Got knocked on the head in a
+scrimmage. Cawnt remember nothing but his name, Francisco."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXIII"></a>CHAPTER LXXIII</h2>
+<h3>THE RETURN</h3>
+<br>
+<p>In the fall of 1898 a man of middle years walked slowly down the
+stairs which plunged a traveler from the new Ferry building's upper
+floor into the maelstrom of Market street's beginning. Cable cars
+were whirling on turn-tables, newsboys shouted afternoon editions;
+hack drivers, flower vendors, train announcers added their babel of
+strident-toned outcries to the clanging of gongs, the clatter of
+wheels and hoofs upon cobblestone streets. Ferry sirens screamed;
+an engine of the Belt Line Railroad chugged fiercely as it pulled a
+train of freight cars toward the southern docks.</p>
+<p>The stranger paused, apparently bewildered by this turmoil.</p>
+<p>He was a stalwart, rather handsome man, bearded and bronzed as
+if through long exposure. And in his walk there was a suggestion of
+that rolling gait which smacks of maritime pursuits. He proceeded
+aimlessly up Market street, gazing round him, still with that odd,
+half-doubting and half-troubled manner. In front of the Palace
+Hotel he paused, seemed about to enter, but went on. He halted once
+again at Third street, surveying a tall brick building with a clock
+tower.</p>
+<p>"What place is that?" he queried of a bystander.</p>
+<p>"That? Why, the Chronicle building."</p>
+<p>The stranger was silent for a moment. Then he said, in a
+curious, detached tone, "I thought it was at Bush and Kearney."</p>
+<p>"Oh, not for eight years," said the other. "Did you live here,
+formerly?"</p>
+<p>"I? No." He spoke evasively and hurried on. "I wonder what made
+me say that?" he mumbled to himself.</p>
+<p>Down Kearney street he walked. Now and then his eyes lit as if
+with some half-formed memory and he made queer, futile gestures
+with his hands. Before a stairway leading to an upper floor, he
+stopped, and, with the dreamy, passive air of a somnambulist,
+ascended, entering through swinging doors a large, pleasant room,
+tapestried, ornamented with paintings and statuary. Half a dozen
+men lounging in large leathern chairs glanced up and away with
+polite unrecognition. The stranger was made aware of a boy in a
+much-buttoned uniform holding a silver tray.</p>
+<p>"Who do you wish to see, sir?"</p>
+<p>"Oh--ah--" spoke the stranger, "this is the Bohemian Club, isn't
+it?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, sir. Shall I call the house manager, sir?"</p>
+<p>At the other's nod he vanished to return with a spectacled man
+who looked inquiring.</p>
+<p>"I beg your pardon--for intruding," said the bearded man slowly.
+"But--I couldn't help it.... I was once a member here."</p>
+<p>"Indeed?" said the spectacled man, tentatively cordial, still
+inquiring. "And you're name--"</p>
+<p>From the bearded lips there came a gutteral sound--as if speech
+had failed him. He gazed at the spectacled personage helplessly.
+"I--don't know." Sudden weakness seemed to seize him. Still with
+the helpless expression in his eyes, he retreated, found a chair
+and sank into it. He passed a hand feverishly before his eyes.</p>
+<p>The spectacled man acted promptly.</p>
+<p>"Garrison, you're one of the ancients round this club," he
+addressed a smiling, gray-haired man of plump and jovial mien.
+"Come and talk to the Mysterious Stranger.... Says he was a member
+ten or fifteen years ago.... Can't recollect who he is."</p>
+<p>"What do you wish me to do?" asked Garrison.</p>
+<p>"Pretend to recognize him. Talk to him about the Eighties....
+Get him oriented. It's plainly a case of amnesia."</p>
+<p>He watched Garrison approach the bearded man with outstretched
+hand; saw the other take it, half reluctantly. The two retired to
+an alcove, had a drink and soon were deep in conversation. The
+stranger seemed to unfold at this touch of friendliness. They heard
+him laugh. Another drink was ordered. After half an hour Garrison
+returned. He seemed excited. "Hold him there till I return," he
+urged. "I'm going to a newspaper office to look at some files."</p>
+<p>Fifteen minutes later he was back. "Come," he said, "I've got a
+cab ... want you to meet a friend of mine." He took the still-dazed
+stranger's arm. They went out, entered a carriage and were driven
+off. As they passed the City Hall the stranger said, as though
+astonished. "Why--it's finished, isn't it?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, at last," Garrison smiled. "Even Buckley couldn't hold it
+back forever."</p>
+<p>"Buckley ... he's the one who promised me a job, Is Pond the
+Mayor now?"</p>
+<p>"No," returned the other. "Phelan." As he spoke the carriage
+stopped before a rather ornate dwelling, somewhat out of place amid
+surrounding offices and shops. The stranger started violently as
+they approached it. Again the gutteral sound came from his
+lips.</p>
+<p>The door opened and a woman appeared; a woman tall, sad-faced
+and eager-eyed. Beside her was a lad as tall as she. They stared at
+the bearded stranger, the boy wide-eyed and curious; the woman with
+a piercing, concentrated hope that fears defeat.</p>
+<p>The man took a stumbling step forward. "Jeanne!" He halted half
+abashed. But the woman sobbing, ran to him and put her arms about
+his neck. For an instant he stood, stiffly awkward, his face very
+red. Then something snapped the shackles of his prisoned memory. A
+cry burst from him, inarticulately joyous. His arms went round
+her.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>It required weeks for Stanley to recover all his memories. It
+was a new world; Jeanne the one connecting link between the present
+and that still half-shadowy past from which he had been cast by
+some unceremonial jest of Fate into a strange existence. From the
+witless, nameless unit of a whaler's crew he had at last arisen to
+a fresh identity. Frank Starbird, they christened him, he knew not
+why. And when they found that he had clerical attainments, the
+captain, who was really a decent fellow, had befriended him; found
+him a berth in a store at Sitka.... Since then he had roamed up and
+down the world, mostly as purser of ships, forever haunted by the
+memory of some previous identity he could not fathom. He had been
+to Russia, India, Europe's seaports, landing finally at Baltimore.
+Thence some mastering impulse took him Westward. And here he was
+again, Francisco Stanley.</p>
+<p>It was difficult to realize that fifteen years had flown. Jeanne
+seemed so little older. But the tall young son was startling
+evidence of Time's passage. Stanley used to sit gazing at him
+silently during those first few days, as though trying to drink in
+the stupendous fact of his existence. Old friends called to hear
+his adventures; he was given a dinner at the club where he learned,
+with some surprise, that he was not unfamous as an author. Jeanne
+had finished his book and found a publisher. Between the
+advertisement of his mysterious disappearance and its real merits,
+the volume had a vogue.</p>
+<p>Robert had married Maizie after her mother's death. They lived
+in the Windham house in Old South Park, for Benito and Alice had
+never returned from the East. Po Lun and Hang Far had gone to
+China.</p>
+<p>Slowly life resumed its formed status for Francisco.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXIV"></a>CHAPTER LXXIV</h2>
+<h3>THE "REFORMER"</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Francisco loved to wander round the town, explore its nooks and
+corners and make himself, for the time being, a part of his
+surroundings. A smattering of European languages aided him in this.
+He rubbed elbows with coatless workmen in French, Swiss, Spanish
+and Italian "pensions," sitting at long tables and breaking black
+bread into red wine. He drank black coffee and ate cloying
+sweetmeats in Greek or Turkish cafes; hobnobbed with Sicilian
+fishermen, helping them to dry their nets and sometimes
+accompanying them in their feluccas into rough seas beyond the
+Heads. Now and then he invaded Chinatown and ate in their
+underground restaurants, disdaining the "chop suey" and sweets
+invariably served to tourists for the more palatable and engaging
+viands he had learned to like and name in Shanghai and Canton.
+Fortunately, he could afford to indulge his bent, for the value of
+his inheritance had increased extraordinarily in the past decade.
+Stanley's income was more than sufficient to insure a life of
+leisure.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>At Market and Fourth streets stood a large and rather
+nondescript gray structure built by Flood, the Comstock
+millionaire. It had served for varied purposes, but now it housed
+the Palais Royal, an immense saloon and gambling rendezvous. In the
+massive, barn-like room, tile-floored and picture-ornamented, were
+close to a hundred tables where men of all descriptions drank,
+played cards and talked. Farther to the rear were private
+compartments, from which came the incessant click of poker
+chips.</p>
+<p>Francisco and Robert sometimes lunched at the Palais Royal. The
+former liked its color and the vital energy he always found there.
+Robert "sat in" now and then at poker. He had a little of his
+father's love for Chance, but a restraining sanity left him little
+the loser in the long run. Robert had three children, the eldest a
+girl of twelve. Petite and dainty Maizie had become a plump and
+bustling mother-hen.</p>
+<p>It was in the Palais Royal that Francisco met Abraham Ruef, a
+dapper and engaging gentleman of excellent address, greatly
+interested in politics. He was a graduate of the State University,
+where he had specialized in political economy.</p>
+<p>Francisco liked him, and they often sat for long discussions of
+the local situation after lunching at the Palais Royal. Ruef, in a
+small way, was a rival of Colonel Dan Burns, the Republican boss.
+Burns, they said, was jealous of Ruef's reform activites.</p>
+<p>"If one could get the laboring class together," Ruef told
+Stanley, "one could wield a mighty power. Some day, perhaps, I
+shall do it. The laborer is a giant, unconscious of his strength.
+He submits to Capital's oppression, unwitting of his own capacity
+to rule. For years we've had nothing but strikes, which have only
+strengthened employers."</p>
+<p>"Yes, they're always broken," said Francisco.</p>
+<p>"The strike is futile. Organization--political unity; that's the
+thing."</p>
+<p>"A labor party, eh?" Francisco spoke, a trifle dubiously.</p>
+<p>"Yes, but not the usual kind. It must be done right." His eyes
+shone. "Ah, I can see it all so plainly. If I could make it clear
+to others--"</p>
+<p>"Why don't you try?" asked Stanley.</p>
+<p>But Ruef shook his head. "I lack the 'presence.' Do you know
+what I mean? No matter how smart I may be, they see in me only a
+small man. So they think I have small ideas. That is human nature.
+And they say, 'He's a Jew.' Which is another drawback."</p>
+<p>He was silent a moment. "I have thought it all out.... I must
+borrow the 'presence.'"</p>
+<p>"What do you mean?" Francisco was startled.</p>
+<p>"We shall see," Ruef responded. "Perhaps I shall find me a
+man--big, strong, impressive--with a mind easily led.... Then I
+shall train him to be a leader. I shall furnish the brain."</p>
+<p>"What a curious thought!" said Francisco. Ruef, smiling, shook
+his head. "It is not new at all," he said. "If you read political
+history you will soon discover that."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Francisco worked at his novel. Word came of Alice Windham's
+death in Massachusetts. Robert urged his father to return to San
+Francisco, but Benito sought forgetfulness in European travel.</p>
+<p>Frank had finished high school; was a cub reporter on The
+Bulletin. Pickering was dead; his widow and her brother, R.A.
+Crothers, had taken over the evening paper; John D. Spreckels,
+sugar nabob, now controlled the Call.</p>
+<p>Newspaper policies were somewhat uncertain in these days of
+economic unrest. Strike succeeded strike, and with each there came
+a greater show of violence. Lines were more sharply drawn. Labor
+and capital organized for self-protection and offense.</p>
+<p>"I hear that Governor Gage is coming down to settle the
+teamsters' strike," said Francisco to his son as they lunched
+together one sultry October day in 1901. "I can't understand why
+he's delayed until now."</p>
+<p>"Probably wanted to keep out of it as long as possible,"
+responded Frank. "There are strong political forces on each side
+... but the story goes that Colonel 'Montezuma' Burns is jealous of
+Ruef's overtures to workingmen. So he's ordered the Governor to
+make a grandstand play."</p>
+<br>
+<a name="page342.jpg"></a>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/page342.jpg" width="85%" alt=
+""><br>
+<b>"Perhaps I shall find me a man--big, strong, impressive--with a
+mind easily led.... Then I shall train him to be a leader.... I
+shall furnish the brain".</b></p>
+<br>
+<p>Stanley looked at his son in astonishment. He was not yet
+nineteen and he talked like a veteran of forty. Francisco wondered
+if these were his own deductions or mere parroted gossip of the
+office.</p>
+<p>Later that afternoon he met Robert and told him of Frank's
+comment. Robert thought the situation over ere he answered.</p>
+<p>"The employing class is fearful," he said. "They've controlled
+things so long they don't know what may happen if they lose the
+reins. It's plain that Phelan can't be re-elected. And it's true
+that if the labor men effect a real organization they may name the
+next Mayor. Rather a disturbing situation."</p>
+<p>"Have you heard any talk about a man named Schmitz? A labor
+candidate?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, I think I have. The chap's a fiddler in a theater
+orchestra. Big, fine looking. But I can't imagine that he has the
+brains to make a winning fight."</p>
+<p>"Big! Fine looking! Hm!" repeated Stanley.</p>
+<p>"Meaning--what?" asked Robert.</p>
+<p>"Nothing much.... I just remembered something Ruef was telling
+me." He walked on thoughtfully. "Might be a story there for the
+boy's paper," he cogitated.</p>
+<p>Ruef's offices were at the corner of Kearney and California
+streets. Thither, with some half-formed mission in his mind,
+Francisco took his way. A saturnine man took him up in a little
+box-like elevator, pointing out a door inscribed:</p>
+<blockquote>A. RUEF,<br>
+Att'y-at-Law.</blockquote>
+<p>The reception-room was filled. Half a dozen men and two women
+sat in chairs which lined the walls. A businesslike young man
+inquired Francisco's errand. "You'll have to wait your turn," he
+said. "I can't go in there now ... he's in conference with Mr.
+Schmitz."</p>
+<p>Francisco decided not to wait. After all, he had learned what he
+came for.</p>
+<p>Abe Ruef had borrowed a "presence."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXV"></a>CHAPTER LXXV</h2>
+<h3>A NOCTURNAL ADVENTURE</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Stanley was to learn much more of Eugene Schmitz. It was in fact
+the following day that he met Ruef and the violinist at Zinkand's.
+Schmitz was a man of imposing presence. He stood over six feet
+high; his curly coal-black hair and pointed beard, his dark,
+luminous eyes and a certain dash in his manner, gave him a glamor
+of old-world romance. In a red cap and ermine-trimmed robe, he
+might have been Richelieu, defying the throne. Or, otherwise clad,
+the Porthos of Dumas' "Three Musketeers."</p>
+<p>Francisco could not help reflecting that Ruef had borrowed a
+very fine presence indeed.</p>
+<p>Ruef asked Francisco to his table. He talked a great deal about
+politics. Schmitz listened open-eyed; Stanley more astutely. All at
+once Ruef leaned toward Francisco.</p>
+<p>"What do you think of Mr. Schmitz--as a candidate for Mayor?" he
+asked.</p>
+<p>"I think," Francisco answered meaningly, "that you have chosen
+well." They rose, shook hands. To Francisco's surprise Schmitz left
+them. "I have a matinee this afternoon," he said. Ruef walked down
+Market street with Stanley.</p>
+<p>"He's leader of the Columbia orchestra.... I met him through my
+dealings with the Musicians' Union." Impulsively he grasped
+Francisco's arm. "Isn't he a wonder? I'll clean up the town with
+him. Watch me!"</p>
+<p>"And, are you certain you can manage this chap?"</p>
+<p>Ruef laughed a quiet little laugh of deep content. "Oh, Gene is
+absolutely plastic. Just a handsome musician. And of good, plain
+people. His father was a German band leader; his mother is
+Irish--Margaret Hogan. That will help. And he is a Native Son."</p>
+<p>Ruef babbled on. He had a great plan for combining all political
+factions--an altruistic dream of economic brotherhood. Francisco
+listened somewhat skeptically. He was not certain of the man's
+sincerity, but he admired Ruef. Of his executive ability there
+could be no doubt.</p>
+<p>Yet there was something vaguely wrong about the wondrous fitness
+of Ruef's plan. Mary Godwin Shelley's tale of "Frankenstein" came
+to Francisco's mind.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>That evening Frank said to his father, with a wink at Jeanne,
+"Want to go slumming with me tonight, father? I'm going to do my
+first signed story: 'The Night-Life of This Town'."</p>
+<p>"Do you think I ought to, Jeanne?" asked her husband
+whimsically. He glanced at his son. "This younger generation is a
+trifle--er--vehement for old fogies like me."</p>
+<p>Jeanne came over and sat on the arm of his chair. "Nonsense,"
+she said, "you are just as young as ever, Francisco.... Yes, go
+with the boy, by all means. I'll run up to Maizie's for the
+evening. She's making a dress for Alice's birthday party. She will
+be sixteen next month."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Francisco and his son went gaily forth to see their city after
+dark. Truth to tell, the father knew more of it than the lad, who
+acted as conductor. Francisco's wanderings in search of 'local
+color' had included some nocturnal quests. However, he kept this to
+himself and let Frank do the guiding.</p>
+<p>They went, first, to a large circular building called the
+Olympia, at Eddy and Mason streets. It was the heart of what was
+called the Tenderloin, a gay and hectic region frequented by
+half-world folk, but not unknown to travelers nor to members of
+society, Slumming parties were both fashionable and frequent. Two
+girls were capering and carolling behind the footlights.</p>
+<p>"They are Darlton and Boice," explained young Stanley. "The one
+with the perpetual smile is a great favorite. She's Boice. She's
+got a daughter old as I, they say."</p>
+<p>They visited the Thalia, a basement "dive" of lower order, and
+returned to the comparative respectability of the Oberon beer hall
+on O'Farrell street, where a plump orchestra of German females
+played sprightly airs; thence back to Market street and the Midway.
+"Little Egypt," tiny, graceful, sensually pretty, performed a
+"danse du ventre," at the conclusion of a long program of crude and
+often ribald "turns." When "off-stage" the performers, mostly
+girls, drank with the audience in a tier of curtained boxes which
+lined the sides of the auditorium. At intervals the curtains parted
+for a moment and faces peered down. A drunken sailor in a forward
+box was tossing silver coins to a dancer.</p>
+<p>They made their exit, Francisco frankly weary and the young
+reporter bored by the unrelieved crudity of it all. A smart
+equipage, with champing horses, stood before the entrance. They
+paused to glance at it.</p>
+<p>"Looks like Harry Bear's carriage," Frank commented. "You know
+the young society blood who's had so many larks." He turned back.
+"Wait a minute, father, I'm going in. If Bear has a party upstairs
+in those boxes it'll make good copy."</p>
+<p>"It'll make a scandal, you mean," returned Francisco rather
+crisply. "You can't print the women's names."</p>
+<p>"Bosh!" the younger man retorted pertly. "Everyone's doing this
+sort of thing now. Come along, dad. See the fun." He caught his
+father's arm and they re-entered, taking the stairs, this time, to
+the boxes above. From one came a man's laughing banter. "That's
+he," Frank whispered, Hastily he drew his half reluctant father
+into a vacant box. A waiter brought them beer, collected half a
+dollar and inquired if they wanted "Company." Francisco shook his
+head.</p>
+<p>The man in the adjoining box was drunk, the girl was frightened.
+Their voices filtered plainly through the thin partition. He was
+urging her to drink and she was protesting. Finally she screamed.
+Stanley and his son sprang simultaneously to the rescue. They found
+a young man in an evening suit trying to kiss a very pretty
+girl.</p>
+<p>His ears were red where she had boxed them and as he turned a
+rather foolish face surprisedly toward the intruders, a scratch
+showed livid on one cheek. The girl's hair streamed disheveled by
+the struggle. She caught up, hastily, a handsome opera cloak to
+cover her torn corsage.</p>
+<p>"Please," she said, "get me out of here quickly.... I'll pay you
+well." Then she flushed as young Stanley stiffened. "I ... I beg
+your pardon."</p>
+<p>He offered her his arm and they passed from the box together.
+The befuddled swain, after a dazed interval, attempted to follow,
+but Francisco flung him back. He heard the carriage door shut with
+a snap, the clatter of iron-shod hoofs. Then he went out to look
+for Frank, but did not find him. Evidently he had gone with the
+lady. Francisco smiled. It was quite an adventure. Thoughtfully he
+gazed at the banners flung across Market street:</p>
+<blockquote>"VOTE FOR EUGENE SCHMITZ,<br>
+<br>
+"The Workingman's Friend."</blockquote>
+<br>
+<p>That was Abraham Ruef's adventure. He wondered how each of them
+would end.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXVI"></a>CHAPTER LXXVI</h2>
+<h3>POLITICS AND ROMANCE</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Ruef swept the field with his handsome fiddler. All "South of
+Market street" rallied to his support. The old line parties brought
+their trusty, well-oiled election machinery into play, but it
+availed them little.</p>
+<p>Robert and Francisco met one day soon after the election.
+"Everyone is laughing at our fiddler Mayor," said the former. "He's
+like a king without a court; for all the other offices were carried
+by Republicans and Democrats."</p>
+<p>Francisco smoked a moment thoughtfully. "Union Labor traded
+minor offices for Mayoralty votes, I understand. Meanwhile Ruef is
+building his machine. He has convinced the labor people that he
+knows the game. They've given him carte blanche."</p>
+<p>"And how does the big fellow take it?"</p>
+<p>"I was talking with him yesterday," Francisco answered. "Schmitz
+is shy just yet. But feels his dignity. Oh, mightily!" He laughed.
+"Little Abe will have his hands full with big 'Gene, I'm
+thinking."</p>
+<p>"But Ruef's not daunted by the prospect."</p>
+<p>"Heavens, no. The man has infinite self-confidence. And it's no
+fatuous egotism, either. A sort of suave, unshakable trust in
+himself. Abe Ruef's the cleverest politician San Francisco's known
+in many years--perhaps since Broderick. He makes such men as Burns
+and Buckley look like tyros--"</p>
+<p>Robert looked up quickly. "By the way, I've often wondered
+whether Buckley wasn't guilty of your disappearance. He meant you
+no good."</p>
+<p>"No," Francisco answered. "I've looked into that. Chris,
+himself, had no connection with it. Once he threatened me ... but
+I've since learned what he meant.... Just a little blackmail which
+concerned a woman. But--" he hesitated.</p>
+<p>Robert moved uneasily. "But--what?"</p>
+<p>"Oh, well, it didn't work. The girl he planned to use told him
+the truth." Francisco, too, seemed ill at ease. "It was so long ago
+... it's all forgotten."</p>
+<p>"I trust so," said the other. Rather abruptly he rose. "Must be
+getting back to work."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Once a week Frank donned his evening clothes and was driven to a
+certain splendid home on Pacific Heights. Bertha Larned met him
+always with a smile--and a different gown. Each successive one
+seemed more splendid, becoming, costly. And ever the lady seemed
+more sweet as their intimacy grew. Once when Frank had stammered an
+enthusiastic appreciation of her latest gown--a wondrous thing of
+silk and lace that seemed to match the changing fires in her
+eyes--she said suddenly: "What a fright I must have looked that
+evening--in the Midway! And what you must have thought of me--in
+such a place!"</p>
+<p>"Do you wish to know just what I thought?" Frank asked her,
+reddening.</p>
+<p>"Yes." Her eyes, a little shamed, but brave, met his.</p>
+<p>"Well," he said, "you stood there with your hair all streaming
+and your--and that splendid fire in your eyes. The beauty of you
+struck me like a whip. You seemed an angel--after all the sordid
+sights I'd seen. And--"</p>
+<p>"Go on--please;" her eyes were shining.</p>
+<p>"Then--it's sort of odd--but I wanted to fight for you!"</p>
+<p>She came a little closer.</p>
+<p>"Some day, perhaps," she spoke with sudden gravity, "I may ask
+you to do that."</p>
+<p>"What? Fight for you?"</p>
+<p>Bertha nodded.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>It was after the Olympia had been made over into a larger Tivoli
+Opera House that Frank met Aleta Boice. She was a member of the
+chorus. Their acquaintance blossomed from propinquity, for both had
+a fashion of supping on the edge of midnight at a little
+restaurant, better known by its sobriquet of "Dusty Doughnut," than
+by its real name, which long ago had been forgotten.</p>
+<p>Frank had formed the habit of sitting at a small table somewhat
+isolated from the others where now and then he wrote an article or
+editorial. Hitherto it had unvaryingly been at his disposal, for
+the hour of Frank's reflection was not a busy one. Therefore he was
+just a mite annoyed to find his table tenanted by a woman. Perhaps
+his irritation was apparent; or, perchance, Aleta had a knack for
+reading faces, for she colored.</p>
+<p>"I--I beg your pardon. Have I got your place?"</p>
+<p>"N-no," protested Frank. "I sit here often ... that's no
+matter."</p>
+<p>"Well," she said; "don't let me drive you off. I'll not be
+comfortable.... Let's share it, then," she smiled; "tonight, at
+least."</p>
+<p>They did. Frank found her very like her mother--the smiling one
+of Darlton and Boice, Olympia entertainers of past years. One
+couldn't call her pretty, when her face was in repose. But that was
+seldom, so it didn't matter. Her smile was like a spring, a
+fountain of perennial good nature. And her eyes were trusting, like
+a child's. Frank often wondered how she had maintained that look of
+eager innocence amid the life she lived.</p>
+<p>Frank learned much of her past. She could barely remember the
+father, who was a circus acrobat and had been killed by a fall from
+a trapeze. Her mother had retired from the stage; she was doing
+needlework for the department stores and the Woman's Exchange.</p>
+<p>"Every morning she teaches me grammar," said Aleta. "Mother's
+never wanted me to talk slang like the other girls. She says if
+you're careless with your English you get careless of your
+principles. Mother's got a lot of quaint ideas like that."</p>
+<p>Again came her rippling laugh. Frank grew to enjoy her; look
+forward to the nightly fifteen minutes of companionship. They never
+met anywhere else. But when an illness held Aleta absent for a week
+the Dusty Doughnut seemed a lonesome place.</p>
+<p>Bertha twitted Frank upon his absent-mindedness one evening as
+he dined with her. By an effort he shook off his vagary of the
+other girl. He loved Bertha. But, for some unfathomed cause, she
+held him off. Never had she let him reach a declaration.</p>
+<p>"We're such marvelous friends!... Can't we always be that--just
+that?"</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Things drifted on. Schmitz, as a Mayor, caused but small remark.
+He reminded Frank of a rustic, sitting at a banquet board and
+watching his neighbors before daring to pick up a fork or spoon.
+But Ruef went on building his fences. Union Labor was now a force
+to deal with. And Ruef was Union Labor.</p>
+<p>One of Robert's clients desired to open a French restaurant,
+with the usual hotel appurtenances. He made application in the
+usual manner. But the license was denied.</p>
+<p>Robert was astonished for no reason was assigned and all
+requests for explanation were evaded.</p>
+<p>A week or so later, Robert met the restaurateur. "Well, I've
+done it," said the latter, jovially. "Open Monday, Come around and
+eat with me."</p>
+<p>"But--how did you manage it?"</p>
+<p>"Oh, I took a tip. I made Ruef my attorney. Big retaining fee,"
+he sighed. "But--well, it's worth the price."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXVII"></a>CHAPTER LXXVII</h2>
+<h3>ALETA'S PROBLEM</h3>
+<br>
+<p>By the end of Schmitz' second term the Democrats and Republicans
+were thoroughly alarmed. They saw a workingmen's control of city
+government loom large and imminent, with all its threat of
+overturned political tradition.</p>
+<p>So the old line parties got together. They made it a campaign of
+Morality against imputed Vice. They selected as a fusion
+standard-bearer George S. Partridge, a young lawyer of unblemished
+reputation--and of untried strength.</p>
+<p>"If Ruef succeeds a third time," Frank said to his father,
+"he'll control the town. He'll elect a full Board of Supervisors
+... that is freely prophesied if Union Labor wins. You ought to see
+his list of candidates--waffle bakers, laundry wagon
+drivers--horny-fisted sons of toil and parasites of politics.
+Heaven help us if they get in power!"</p>
+<p>"But there's always a final reckoning ... like the Vigilance
+Committee," said Francisco, slowly. "Somehow, I feel that there's a
+shakeup coming."</p>
+<p>"A moral earthquake, eh?" laughed Jeanne. "I wouldn't want to
+have a real one, with all of our new skyscrapers."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>After dinner Stanley and his son strolled downtown together.
+Exercise and diet had been recommended, Francisco was acquiring
+embonpoint. Frank was enthusiastic over the new motor carriages
+called automobiles.</p>
+<p>Robert had one of them--the gasoline type--with a
+<i>chauffeur</i>, as the French called the drivers of such
+machines. Bertha Larned had an "electric coupe," very handsome and
+costly, with plate-glass windows on three sides. She drove it
+herself. Frank sometimes encountered it downtown, looking like a
+moving glass cage, with the two women in it. Mrs. Larned, the aunt,
+always had a slightly worried expression, and Bertha, as she
+steered the thing through a tangle of horse-drawn traffic, wore a
+singularly determined look.</p>
+<p>There were cable cars on most of the streets; a few electric
+lines which ran much more swiftly. But people deemed the latter
+dangerous. There was much popular sentiment against electrizing
+Market street. The United Railways, which had succeeded the old
+Market Street Railway Company, was in disfavor. There were rumors
+of illicit bargains with the Supervisors for the granting of
+proposed new franchises. Young Partridge made much of this. He
+warned the public that it was about to be "betrayed." But his
+prophetic eloquence availed him little. Schmitz and all the Union
+Labor candidates won by a great majority.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Frank sought Aleta at the Dusty Doughnut some months later. He
+was very tired, for the past few days had brought a multitude of
+tasks. He had counted on Aleta's smile. It seldom failed to cheer
+him, to restore the normal balance of his mind. But, though she
+came, the smile was absent. There was a faint ghost of it now and
+again; a harried look about the eyes. Frank thought there was a
+mistiness which hinted recent tears.</p>
+<p>He laid a hand sympathetically on hers. "What is it, little
+girl?"</p>
+<p>She would not tell him. Her mother was ill. But the trouble did
+not lie there. Frank was sure. She had borne that burden long and
+uncomplainingly. Aleta had an ingenue part now at the Alcazar. Only
+once or twice a week did she keep the tacit tryst at the little
+nocturnal cafe. Frank saw her at the Techau, at Zinkand's, the St.
+Germain, with the kind of men that make love to actresses. She knew
+all about the stock market and politics, for some of Ruef's new
+Supervisors were among her swains. Once or twice, as the jargon of
+the journals has it, she had "tipped off" a story to Frank.</p>
+<p>She said at last, "I'll tell you something ... but you mustn't
+print it: This new city government is running wild.... They're
+scheming to hold up the town. They've made a list of all the
+corporations--the United Railways, the telephone company....
+Everyone that wants a favor of the city must pay high. The man who
+told me this said that his share will total $30,000. Ruef and
+Schmitz will probably be millionaires."</p>
+<p>"But how's it to be done? They're being watched, you know.
+They've lots of enemies. Bribery would land them in the
+penitentiary."</p>
+<p>The girl leaned forward. "Ah, this isn't ordinary bribery.
+Anyone that wants a franchise or a license hires Ruef as his
+attorney. They say he gets as high at $10,000 for a retaining fee
+... and they expect to clean the street car company out of a
+quarter million."</p>
+<p>Prank stared. "Why--in God's name!--did he tell you this?"</p>
+<p>"He loves me." There was something like defiance in her answer.
+"He wants me to accompany him to Europe--when he gets the coin. He
+says it won't be long."</p>
+<p>"So"--Frank was a little nonplussed--"he wants you to marry
+him?"</p>
+<p>"No," the girl's face reddened. "No, I can't ... he's got a
+wife."</p>
+<p>For a moment there was silence. Then. "What did you tell
+the--hound, Aleta?"</p>
+<p>"He's not a hound," she said evenly. "The wife won't care. She
+runs with other men...." Her eyes would not meet Frank's.
+"I--haven't answered."</p>
+<p>"But--your mother!"</p>
+<p>"Mother's mind is gone," Aleta answered, bitterly. "She doesn't
+even recognize me now.... But she's happy." Her laugh rang,
+mirthless.</p>
+<p>"Aleta," he said, sternly, "do you love this man?"</p>
+<p>"No," she said and stared at him. "I--I--"</p>
+<p>"What?"</p>
+<p>"I love another--if you must know all about it."</p>
+<p>"Can't you--marry <i>him?</i> Is he too poor?" asked
+Stanley.</p>
+<p>"Poor?" Her eyes were stars; "that wouldn't matter. No, he's not
+my sort...."</p>
+<p>"Does he know?"</p>
+<p>"No," Aleta answered, hastily. "No, he doesn't ... and he never
+will."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Frank told his father something of the conversation.</p>
+<p>"Its an open secret," said Francisco, "that Ruef and his crew
+are out for the coin. I'll tell you something else you mustn't
+print, your paper is determined to expose Ruef. The managing editor
+is on his way to Washington to confer with President Roosevelt....
+The plan is to borrow Francis Heney and William J. Burns."</p>
+<p>"What? The pair that has been exposing Senators and land frauds
+up in Oregon?"</p>
+<p>His father nodded. "Phew!" The young man whistled. "You were
+right when you predicted that there was a shakeup coming."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Frank, expecting startling things to happen, kept his mind
+alert. But the months passed uneventfully. The editor returned from
+Washington. No sensational announcement followed the event. Later
+it was rumored that Burns had sent operatives to the city. They
+were gathering evidence, one understood, but if they did, naught
+seemed to come of it. Frank was vaguely disappointed. Now and then
+he saw Aleta, but the subject of their former talk was not resumed.
+Vaguely he wondered what manner of man was her beloved.</p>
+<p>Frank resented the idea that he was above her. Aleta was good
+enough for any man.</p>
+<p>Bertha was visiting her aunt's home in the East. She had been
+very restless and capricious just before she went. All women were
+thus, he supposed. But he missed her.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER LXXVIII</h2>
+<h3>THE FATEFUL MORN</h3>
+<br>
+<p>On the evening of April 17, 1906, Frank and Bertha, who had
+recently returned, attended the opera. The great Caruso, whose
+tenor voice had taken the East by storm, and whose salary was
+reputed to be fabulous, had come at last to San Francisco.
+Fremsted, almost equally famous, was singing with him in "Carmen"
+at the Grand Opera House. All the town turned out in broadcloth,
+diamonds, silks and d&eacute;collet&eacute; to hear them--a younger
+generation of San Franciscans assuming a bit uncomfortably that
+social importance which had not yet become genealogically sure of
+itself.</p>
+<p>Frank and Bertha drove down in the electric brougham, for which
+they had with difficulty found a place along the vehicle-lined curb
+of Mission street. And, as they were early, they halted in the
+immense and handsome, though old-fashioned, foyer to observe the
+crowd. The air was heavy with perfume.</p>
+<p>"Look at that haughty dame with a hundred-thousand dollar
+necklace," he smiled. "One would have thought her father was at
+least a king. Forty years ago he drove a dray.... And that one with
+the ermine coat and priceless tiara. Wouldn't you take her for a
+princess? Ah, well, more power to her! But her mother cleaned
+soiled linen in Washerwoman's Lagoon and her dad renovated
+cuspidors, swept floors in the Bella Union."</p>
+<p>But the girl did not seem interested. "I wonder," she remarked a
+little later, "why it makes so very much--ah--difference ... who
+one's parents were?"</p>
+<p>There was a curious, half-detached sadness in her tone. Frank
+wondered suddenly if he had blundered. Bertha had never mentioned
+her parents. He vaguely understood that they had died abroad and
+had foreborne to question, fearing to arouse some tragic
+memory.</p>
+<p>"Of course, it really doesn't matter," he said hastily; "it's
+only when people put on airs that I think of such things." She took
+his arm with fingers that trembled slightly. "Let us go in. The
+overture is beginning."</p>
+<p>During an intermission she whispered. "I wish I were like
+Carmen--bold enough to fight the world for lo--for what I
+wanted."</p>
+<p>"Aren't you?" he turned and looked at her.</p>
+<p>"No, sometimes I'm overwhelmed ... feel as though I can't look
+life in the face." He saw that her lips were trembling, that her
+eyes were winking back the tears.</p>
+<p>"What is it, dear?" he questioned. But she did not answer. The
+curtain rose upon the final act.</p>
+<p>Silently they moved out with a throng whose silk skirts swished
+and rustled. The men were restless, glad of a chance at the open
+and a smoke; the women gay, exalted, half intoxicated by the
+musical appeal to their emotions. There was an atmosphere almost of
+hysteria in the great swiftly emptying auditorium.</p>
+<p>"I feel sort of--smothered," Bertha said; "suppose we walk."</p>
+<p>"Gladly," answered Frank, "but what about the coupe?"</p>
+<p>"There's one of these new livery stables with machine shop
+attached not far away. They call it a garage.... We'll leave the
+brougham there," she said.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>The night was curiously still--breathless one might have called
+it. While the temperature was not high, there was an effect of
+warmth, vaguely disturbing like the presage of a storm. As they
+traversed a region of hotels and apartment houses, Frank and Bertha
+noted many open windows; men and women staring out half dreamily.
+They passed a livery stable, out of which there came a weird
+uncanny dissonance of horses neighing in their stalls.</p>
+<p>"Tell me of your actress friend. Do you see her often?" Bertha
+asked.</p>
+<p>"Not very. She's a good pal. But she's ... well, not like
+you."</p>
+<p>Her eyes searched him. "Do you mean she's not as--pretty,
+Frank?"</p>
+<p>"Oh, I don't know," he answered. "It's because I love you, dear.
+Aleta's right enough. But she's not--oh, you know--essential."</p>
+<p>Bertha squeezed his arm. Was silent for a moment. Then, "Aleta's
+father was a circus rider?"</p>
+<p>"Acrobat. Yes, he was killed when she was quite a child."</p>
+<p>"But she remembers him; they were married, her mother" and
+he."</p>
+<p>"Why, yes, I suppose so ... naturally."</p>
+<p>There was another silence. Suddenly he turned on her, perplexed.
+"Bertha, what is wrong with you tonight?"</p>
+<p>They were crossing a little park high up above the city whose
+lights lay, shimmering and misty, below. The stillness was
+obtrusive here. Not a leaf stirred. There was no one about. They
+might have been alone upon some tropic peak.</p>
+<p>"I--can't tell you, Frank." Her tone of blended longing and
+despair caught at his heart.</p>
+<p>Impetuously his arms went around her. "Dear," he said
+unsteadily. "Dear, I want you.... Oh, Bertha, I've waited so long!
+I don't care any more if you're rich ... I'm going to--you've got
+to promise...."</p>
+<p>She tried to protest, to push him away; but Frank held her
+close. And, after a moment, like a tired child's, her head lay
+quiet on his shoulder; her arms stole round his neck; she began to
+weep softly.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>The horror came at dawn.</p>
+<p>Frank, startled from a late and restless slumber, thought that
+he was being shaken or attacked by some intruder. He sprang up,
+sleepily bewildered. The room rocked with a quick, sharp, jerking
+motion that was strangely terrifying. There was a dull
+indescribable rumbling, punctuated by a sound of falling things. A
+typewriter in one end of the room went over on the floor. A shaving
+mug danced on the shelf and fell. The windows rattled and a picture
+on the wall swayed drunkenly.</p>
+<p>"Damn!" Frank rubbed his eyes. "An earthquake!"</p>
+<p>He heard his mother's scream; his father's reassuring answer.
+Hurriedly he reached for his clothes. Downstairs he found his
+father endeavoring to calm the frightened servants, one of whom
+appeared to have hysterics. Presently his mother entered with the
+smelling salts. Soon the maid's unearthly laughter ceased.</p>
+<p>"Anyone hurt?" Frank questioned anxiously.</p>
+<p>"No," his father answered. "Thought the house was going over ...
+but there's little damage done."</p>
+<p>Suddenly Frank thought of Bertha. He must go to her. She would
+be frightened.</p>
+<p>He ran into the debris-cluttered street. Cable cars stood here
+and there, half twisted from the tracks, pavements were littered
+with bricks from fallen chimneys, bits of window glass. Men and
+women in various degrees of dishabille, were issuing from doorways.
+As he mounted higher, Frank saw smoke spirals rising from the
+southeastern part of town. He heard the strident clang of
+firegongs.</p>
+<p>Automobiles were tearing to and fro, with a great shrieking of
+siren whistles.</p>
+<p>It seemed like a nightmare through which he tore, without a
+sense of time or movement, arriving finally at the marble vestibule
+of Bertha's home. It was open and he rushed in, searching, calling.
+But he got no answer. Bertha, servants, aunt--all apparently had
+fled.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXIX"></a>CHAPTER LXXIX</h2>
+<h3>THE TURMOIL</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Frank never knew just why he turned toward the town from
+Bertha's empty dwelling. It was an involuntary reaction. The
+excitement of those lower levels seemed to call, and thence he
+sped. Several times acquaintances--newspaper men and
+others--accosted him. Everyone was eagerly alert, feverishly
+interested, as if by some great adventure. Japanese boys were
+sweeping up the litter in front of stores. In many places things
+were being put in order, as if the trouble were over. But at other
+points there was confusion and dread. Half-dressed men and women
+wandered about, questing for a cup of coffee, but there was none to
+be had, for the gas mains had broken.</p>
+<p>People converged toward parks and open spaces. Union Square was
+crowded with a strangely varied human mass; opera singers from the
+St. Francis Hotel, jabbering excitedly in Italian or French, and
+making many gestures with their jeweled hands; Chinese and Japanese
+from the Oriental quarter hard by; women-of-the-town, bedraggled,
+sleepy-eyed and fearful; sailors, clerks, folk from apartment
+houses.</p>
+<p>Near the pansy bed a woman lay. She screamed piercingly at
+intervals. Frank learned that she was in travail. By and by a
+doctor came, a nurse. They were putting up tents on the green
+sward. Automobiles rolled up, sounding their siren alarms. Out of
+them were carried bandaged men who moaned, silent forms on litters,
+more screaming women. They were taken to the tents. Extra police
+appeared to control the crowds that surged hither and thither
+without seeming reason, swayed by sudden curiosities and
+trepidation.</p>
+<p>San Francisco was burning. The water mains were broken by the
+quake, Frank learned. The fire department was demoralized. Chief
+Sullivan was dead. A falling chimney from the California Hotel had
+crushed him.</p>
+<p>There were emergency reservoirs, but no one seemed to know
+where. They had not been used for years.</p>
+<p>Swiftly the fire gained. It ravaged like a fiend in the factory
+district south and east, toward the bay.</p>
+<p>By noon a huge smoke curtain hid the sky; through it the sun
+gleamed palely like a blood-red disc. Wild rumors were in
+circulation. Los Angeles was wiped out. St. Louis had been
+destroyed. New York and Chicago were inundated by gigantic tidal
+waves.</p>
+<p>Frank decided to return home and discover how his people fared.
+Perhaps there would be a bite for him. He found his father's house
+surrounded by a cordon of young soldiers--student militiamen from
+Berkeley, some one said. They ordered him off.</p>
+<p>"But--" he cried. "It's my HOME. My father and mother are
+there."</p>
+<p>"They were ordered out two hours since," said a youthful
+officer, who came up to settle the dispute. "We'll have to dynamite
+the place.... No water.... Desperate measures necessary...."</p>
+<p>He stopped Frank's effort to reply with further stereotyped
+announcements. "Orders of the Admiral, Mayor, Chief of Police....
+Sorry. Can't be helped.... Keep back, everybody. Men have orders to
+shoot."</p>
+<p>He made off tempestuously busy and excited.</p>
+<p>Frank shouted after him, "Wait, where have my parents gone? Did
+they leave any word?"</p>
+<p>The young man turned, irritably. "Don't know," he answered, and
+resumed his vehement activities. Frank, with a strange, empty
+feeling, retraced his way, fought a path by means of sheer will and
+the virtue of his police badge across Market street, and struck out
+toward Lafayette Square. Scarcely realizing it, he was bound for
+Aleta's apartment.</p>
+<p>A warped shaft had incapacitated the automatic elevator, so he
+climbed three flights of stairs and found Aleta packing.</p>
+<p>"Frank!" she cried, and ran to him. "This is good of you." She
+took both of his hands and clung to them as if she were a little
+frightened.</p>
+<p>"Wait," she said. "I'll bet you've had nothing to eat. I'll make
+you a cup of coffee and a toasted cracker on the spirit lamp."</p>
+<p>Silently he sat on a broken chair and watched her. He was
+immensely grateful and--he suddenly realized--immensely weary. What
+a dear girl Aleta was! And he had not thought of her till all else
+failed him.</p>
+<p>Soon the coffee was steaming in two little Dresden cups, one
+minus a handle. There was a plateful of crackers, buttered and
+toasted, a bit of Swiss cheese. Frank had never tasted anything so
+marvelous.</p>
+<p>"Where were you going?" he asked, finally.</p>
+<p>"To the park ... the panhandle ... everybody's going there."</p>
+<p>"Your--mother!" A swift recollection smote him. "Where is
+she?"</p>
+<p>"Mother died last week," Aleta turned away. "I'm rather
+thankful--now."</p>
+<p>Silently he helped her with the packing. There were a suitcase
+and a satchel for the choice of her possessions. They required much
+picking and choosing. Many cherished articles must be
+abandoned.</p>
+<p>Suddenly Aleta ran to Frank. The room was rocking. Plaster fell
+about them. The girl screamed. To his astonishment, Frank found his
+arms around her waist. He was patting her dark, rumpled hair. Her
+hands were on his shoulders, and her piquant, wistful face close to
+his own. She had sought him like a frightened child. And he, with
+masculine protective impulse, had responded. That was all. Or was
+it? They looked into each other's eyes, bewildered, shaken. All was
+quiet now. The temblor had passed instantly and without harm.</p>
+<p>In the street they joined a motley aggregation moving westward
+in horse-driven vehicles, automobiles, invalid chairs, baby buggies
+and afoot. Rockers, filled with household goods, tied down and
+pulled by ropes, were part of the procession. Everyone carried or
+dragged the maximum load his or her strength allowed.</p>
+<p>When they reached that long narrow strip of park called the
+Panhandle it was close to dusk. They advanced some distance ere
+they found a vacant space. The first two blocks were covered like a
+gypsy camp with wagons, trunks and spread-out salvage of a hundred
+hastily abandoned homes. Improvised tents had been fashioned from
+blankets or sheets. Before one of these a bearded man was praying
+lustily for salvation. A neighbor watched him, smiling, and drank
+deeply from a pocket flask. A stout woman haled Aleta. "You and
+your husband got any blankets?" she asked.</p>
+<p>"No," the girl said, reddening. "No, we haven't ... and he's not
+..."</p>
+<p>"Well, never mind," the woman answered. "Take these two. It may
+come cold 'fore morning. And I've got more than I can use. We brung
+the wagon." She drew the girl aside and nudged her in the ribs.</p>
+<p>"We ain't married, either--Jim 'n' me. But what's the diff?"</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXX"></a>CHAPTER LXXX</h2>
+<h3>AFTERMATH</h3>
+<br>
+<p>About daylight the next morning Frank was awakened by a soft
+pattering sound. He jumped to his feet. Was it raining? All about
+folk stirred, held forth expectant hands to feel the drops. But
+they were fine white flakes--ashes from the distant conflagration.
+Aleta still lay moveless, wrapped in her blanket some ten feet
+away. They had been up most of the night, watching the flames, had
+seen them creep across Market street, up Powell, Mason, Taylor,
+Jones streets to Nob Hill. Finally Frank had persuaded Aleta to
+seek a little rest. Despite her protest that sleep was impossible,
+he had rolled her in one of the borrowed blankets, wrapping
+himself, Indianwise, in the other. Toward morning slumber had come
+to them both.</p>
+<p>Aleta, now awake, smiled at Frank and declared herself
+refreshed. "What had we better do next?" she questioned.</p>
+<p>Frank pondered. "Go to the Presidio, I guess. The army's serving
+food out there, I hear." He returned the blankets to their owner
+and the two of them set forth. On Oak street, near the mouth of
+Golden Gate Park, a broken street main spouted geyser-like out of
+the asphalt. They snatched a hurried drink, laved their faces and
+hands and went on, passing a cracker wagon, filled with big tin
+containers, and surrounded by a hungry crowd. The driver was
+passing out crackers with both hands, casting aside the tins when
+they were empty.</p>
+<p>"It's like the Millennium," Aleta remarked. "All classes of
+people herded together in common good will. Do you see that
+well-fed looking fellow carrying the ragged baby? He's a
+corporation lawyer. He makes $50,000 a year I'm told. And the fat
+woman he's helping with her numerous brood is a charwoman at the
+Alcazar theatre."</p>
+<p>Frank looked and laughed. "Why--it's my Uncle Robert!" he
+exclaimed.</p>
+<p>Robert Windham held out his free hand to Frank and Aleta. His
+family was safe, he told them. So were Francisco and Jeanne, who
+had joined the Windhams when the Stanley home was dynamited. They
+had gone to Berkeley and would stay with friends of Maizie's.</p>
+<p>Frank wrote down the address. He decided to remain in San
+Francisco. There was Aleta.... And, somehow, Bertha must be
+located.</p>
+<p>Everyone was bound for the Presidio.</p>
+<p>"You may find me there later," said Windham. "I've
+some--er--business on this side."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>At the great military post which slopes back on the green
+headlands from the Golden Gate, Frank and Aleta found a varied
+company. The hospitals were filled with men and women burned in the
+fire or hurt by falling walls. There were scores--perhaps a hundred
+of them. Frank, with his heart in his mouth, made a survey of the
+hospitals, after finding tent room for Aleta. His press badge
+gained admittance for him everywhere and he went through a pretence
+of taking notes. But he was looking for Bertha. At a large tent
+they were establishing an identification bureau, a rendezvous for
+separated families, friends or relatives. Many people crowded this
+with frantic inquiries.</p>
+<p>Soup was being served at the mess kitchens. Great wagons filled
+with loaves of bread drove in and were apportioned. Men, women and
+children formed in line to get their shares.</p>
+<p>The sky was still covered with smoke. Late comers reported that
+the fire had crossed Van Ness avenue. There were orders posted all
+about that one must not build fires indoors nor burn lights at
+night. Those who disobeyed would be shot. The orders were signed by
+Mayor Schmitz. Saloons had been closed for an indefinite period.
+Two men, found looting the dead, had been summarily executed by
+military order. Hundreds of buildings were being dynamited. The
+dull roar of these frequent explosions was plainly discernible at
+the Presidio.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>After they had eaten Frank said good-bye to Aleta. He was going
+back to town. The feverish adventure of it called him. And he had
+learned that there were many other camps of refugees. In one of
+these he might find Bertha. A milk wagon, clattering over the
+cobblestones overtook him and, without an invitation, he climbed
+aboard. Frank had little sense of destination or purpose. He wanted
+action. The thought of Bertha tugged at him now like a pain,
+insistent, quenchless. He tried to stifle it by movement, by
+absorbing interest in the wondrous drama all about him.</p>
+<p>Suddenly he sprang from the wagon. They had reached the park
+where he had learned of Bertha's love. Frank scarcely recognized
+the tiny pleasure ground, so covered was it with tents and bedding.
+It swarmed with people--a fact which Frank resented oddly. In the
+back of his mind was a feeling that this spot was sacred.</p>
+<p>He made his way among the litter of fabrics and humanity. These
+were mostly people from the valley where a foreign section lay.
+Loudly and excitedly they chattered in strange tongues, waving
+their hands about. Children wailed. All was disorder,
+uncontrol.</p>
+<p>Sickened of the place Frank turned to go, but something tugged
+at his coatsleeve; a haggard, elderly dishevelled man.</p>
+<p>Frank looked at the fellow in wonder. Then he gave a cry and
+took the fellow by the shoulders. He had recognized, despite
+disguising superficialities of garb and manner, Bertha's once
+spick-and-span butler.</p>
+<p>"God Almighty, Jarvis!" Frank could scarcely speak, his heart
+was pounding so. "Wh--where is she--Bertha?"</p>
+<p>"Come with me, sir," said the old man sadly. He led the way past
+sheet-hung bushes, over crumb-and-paper sprinkled lawns to a little
+retreat under sheltering trees. One had to stoop to enter that
+arbored, leaf encircled nest through which the sun fell like a
+dappled pattern on the grass. Frank adjusted his eyes to the dimmer
+light before he took in the picture: a girl lying, very pale and
+still, upon a gorgeous Indian blanket. She looked at him, cried out
+and stretched her arms forth feebly.</p>
+<p>"Bertha!" He knelt down beside her, pressed his lips to hers.
+Her arms about his neck were cold but strangely vibrant. For a
+moment they remained thus. Then he questioned, anxiously, "Bertha?
+What is wrong?"</p>
+<p>"Everything! The world!" she whispered. "When you left me
+dearest, I was happy! I had never dreamed that one could be so
+glad! But afterward ... I didn't dare to face the morning--and the
+truth!" Her lips quivered. "I--I couldn't stand it, Frank," she
+finished weakly.</p>
+<p>"She took morphia," said Jarvis. "When the earthquake came I
+couldn't wake her. I was scared. I carried her out here."</p>
+<p>"You tried to kill yourself!" Frank's tone was shocked,
+condemning. "After Tuesday night?"</p>
+<p>Her eyes craved pardon. She essayed to speak but her lips made
+wordless sounds. Finally she roused a little, caught his hand and
+held it to her breast.</p>
+<p>"Ask your Uncle Robert, dear?" she whispered. Her eyes looked
+into his with longing, with renunciation. A certain peace stole
+into them and slowly the eyelids closed.</p>
+<p>Frank, who had half grasped the meaning of her words, leaned
+forward fearfully. The hand which held his seemed colder, more
+listless. There was something different. Something that he could
+not name--that frightened him.</p>
+<p>Suddenly he realized its meaning. The heart which had pulsed
+beneath his fingers was still.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXXI"></a>CHAPTER LXXXI</h2>
+<h3>READJUSTMENT</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Of the trip to Berkeley which followed, Frank could not
+afterward recall the slightest detail. Between the time when, like
+a madman, he had tried to rouse his sweetheart from that final
+lethargy which knew no waking, and the moment when he burst upon
+his Uncle Robert with what must have seemed an insane question,
+Frank lost count of time.</p>
+<p>He was in the library of an Alameda county lawyer, host of the
+Stanley and the Windham families. Across the mahogany table,
+grasping the back of a chair for support, one hand half
+outstretched in a supplicating gesture, stood his Uncle
+Robert--pale, shaken ghost of the self-possessed man that he
+usually was. Between them, imminent with subtle violence, was the
+echo of Frank's question, hurled, like an explosive missile at the
+elder man:</p>
+<p>"Why did Bertha Larned kill herself?"</p>
+<p>After an interval of silence Windham pulled himself together;
+looked about him hastily ere he spoke. "Hush! Not here! Not now!"
+The eyes which sought Frank's were brilliant with suffering. "Is
+she--dead?"</p>
+<p>The young man nodded dumbly. Something like a sob escaped the
+elder. He was first to speak. "Come. We must get out of here. We
+must have a talk." He opened the door and went out, Frank
+following. In the street, which sloped sharply downward from a
+major elevation, they could see the bay of San Francisco, the
+rising smoke cloud on the farther shore. They walked together
+upward, away from the houses, toward a grove of eucalyptus trees.
+Here Robert halted and sat down. He seemed utterly weary. Frank
+stood looking down across the valley.</p>
+<p>"Bertha Larned was my daughter," said his uncle almost
+fiercely.</p>
+<p>Frank did not turn nor start as Windham had expected. One might
+have thought he did not hear. At length, however, he said slowly,
+"I suspected that--a little. But I want to know."</p>
+<p>"I--can't tell you more," said the other brokenly.</p>
+<p>"Who--who was her mother, Uncle Bob?"</p>
+<p>"If you love her, Frank, don't ask that question."</p>
+<p>The young man snapped a dry twig from a tree and broke it with a
+sort of silent concentration into half a dozen bits. "Then--it's
+true ... the tale heard round town! That you and--"</p>
+<p>"Yes, yes," Windham interrupted, "Frank, it's true."</p>
+<p>"The--procuress?"</p>
+<p>"Frank! For God's sake!" Windham's fingers gripped his nephew's
+arm. "Don't let Maizie know. I've tried to live it down these
+twenty years...."</p>
+<p>"Damn it, do you think I'd tell Aunt Maizie?"</p>
+<p>"It's--I can't believe it yet! That you--"</p>
+<p>"Maizie wouldn't leave her mother." With a flicker of defiance
+Robert answered him. "I was young, rudderless, after my people went
+East.... A little wild, I guess."</p>
+<p>"So you sought consolation?"</p>
+<p>"Call it what you like," the other answered. "Some things are
+too strong for men. They overwhelm one--like Fate."</p>
+<p>Frank began pacing back and forth, his fingers opening and
+shutting spasmodically.</p>
+<p>"Uncle Bob," he said at length, "... after you married, what
+became--"</p>
+<p>"Her mother sent the child East--to a sister. She was well
+raised--educated. If she'd only stayed there, in that Massachusetts
+town!"</p>
+<p>"Then--Bertha didn't know?"</p>
+<p>"Not till she came to San Francisco, after her mother's death.
+She had to come to settle the estate. The mother left her
+everything--a string of tenements. She was rich."</p>
+<p>"Bertha came to you, then, I suppose."</p>
+<p>"Yes, she came to me," said Robert Windham.</p>
+<p>Suddenly, as though the memory overwhelmed him, Windham's face
+sank forward in his hands.</p>
+<p>"She was very sweet," his voice broke pitifully. "I--loved
+her."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Several days later Frank and his father paid a visit to the
+ruined city. One had to get passes in Oakland and wear them on
+one's hat. Sightseers were not admitted nor carried on ferry boats,
+trains.</p>
+<p>Already Telegraph Hill was dotted with new habitations. It was
+rumored that Andrea Sbarbora, banker and patron of the Italian
+Colony, was bringing a carload of lumber from Seattle which he
+would sell to fire sufferers on credit and at cost. The spirit of
+rehabilitation was strong.</p>
+<p>Frank was immensely cheered by it. But Francisco was overwhelmed
+by the desolation. "I am going South," he told his son. "I can't
+bear to see this. I don't even know where I am."</p>
+<p>It was true. One felt lost in those acres of ashes and debris.
+Familiar places seemed beyond memorial reconstruction, so smitten
+was the mind by this horror of leveled buildings, gutted walls and
+blackened streets.</p>
+<p>Francisco and Jeanne went to San Diego. There the former tried
+to refashion the work of many months--two hundred pages of a novel
+which the flames destroyed. Robert Windham and his family journeyed
+to Hawaii. Frank did not see his uncle after that talk in the
+Berkeley Hills.</p>
+<p>Parks and public spaces were covered with little green cottages
+in orderly rows. Refugee camps one termed then and therein lived
+20,000 of the city's homeless.</p>
+<p>Street cars were running. Passengers were carried free until the
+first of May. Patrick Calhoun was trying to convert the cable roads
+into electric lines in spite of the objection of the improvement
+clubs. He was negotiating with the Supervisors for a blanket
+franchise to electrize all of his routes.</p>
+<p>"And he'll get it, too," Aleta told Frank as they dined
+together. "It's arranged, I understand, for quarter of a million
+dollars."</p>
+<p>Frank pondered. "What'll Langdon say to that?"</p>
+<p>William H. Langdon was the district attorney, a former
+superintendent of schools, whom Ruef had put on his Union Labor
+ticket to give it tone. But Langdon had refused to "take program."
+He had even raided the "protected" gamblers, ignoring Ruef's hot
+insinuations of "ingratitude."</p>
+<p>"Oh, Ruef's too smart for Langdon," said Aleta. "Every Sunday
+night he, Schmitz and Big Jim Gallagher hold a caucus. Gallagher is
+Ruef's representative on the Board. They figure out what will occur
+at Monday's session of the Supervisors. It's all cut and
+dried."</p>
+<p>"It can't last long," Frank mused. "They're getting too much
+money. Those fellows who used to earn from $75 to $100 a month are
+spending five times that amount. Schmitz is building a palace. He
+rides around in his automobile with a liveried chauffeur. He's
+going to Europe they say."</p>
+<p>The girl glanced up at him half furtively. "Perhaps I'll go to
+Europe, too."</p>
+<p>"What?" Frank eyed her startled. "Not with--"</p>
+<p>"Yes, my friend, the Supervisor." Her tone was defiant. "Why
+shouldn't I?"</p>
+<p>"Don't--Aleta."</p>
+<p>"But, why not?"</p>
+<p>He was silent. But his eyes were on her, pleadingly.</p>
+<p>"Would you care, Frank? Would you care--at all?"</p>
+<p>"You know I would," he spoke half angrily. The girl traced
+patterns with her fork upon the table cloth.</p>
+<br>
+<a name="page374.jpg"></a>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/page374.jpg" width="85%" alt=
+""><br>
+<b>"I am going South," Francisco told his son. "I cannot bear
+this."</b></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXXII"></a>CHAPTER LXXXII</h2>
+<h3>AT BAY</h3>
+<br>
+<p>On May 21, the United Railway Company received a franchise to
+electrize any of its street-car routes, "where grades
+permitted."</p>
+<p>At once ensued a public uproar. From the press, the pulpit and
+the rostrum issued fiery accusations that the city was betrayed. In
+the midst of it Mayor Schmitz departed for Europe.</p>
+<p>Frank met Ruef at the Ferry, where the former had gone to see
+Aleta off on a road tour with her company. The little boss was
+twisting his moustache and muttering to himself.</p>
+<p>"So His Honor's off on a lark," said the newsman, meaningly.</p>
+<p>Ruef glared at him, but made no answer.</p>
+<p>Afterward Frank heard that they had quarreled. Ruef, he learned,
+had charged the mayor with ingratitude; had threatened, pleaded,
+warned--without success.</p>
+<p>Schmitz had gone; his was the dogged determination which
+easily-led men sometimes manifest at unexpected moments. One heard
+of him through the press dispatches, staying at the best hotels of
+European capitals, making speeches when he had a chance. He was
+like a boy on a holiday. But at home Ruef sensed the stirring of an
+outraged mass and trembled. He could no longer control his minions.
+And, worst of all, he could not manage Langdon. "Big Jim"
+Gallagher, now the acting mayor, was docile to a fault, however. He
+would have put his hand into the fire for this clever little man,
+whom he admired so immensely. Once they discussed the ousting of
+Langdon.</p>
+<p>"It would be quite legal," Ruef contended. "The Mayor and Board
+have power to remove a district attorney and select his
+successor."</p>
+<p>Henry Ach, advisor of the boss, looked dubious. "I'm not sure of
+that. Moreover, it's bad politics. It would be better seemingly to
+cooperate with Langdon. He has the public confidence. We've not....
+Besides, whom would we put in Langdon's place?"</p>
+<p>"Ruef," said "Big Jim," with his ready admiration. "He's the
+man."</p>
+<p>"Hm!" the little boss exclaimed, reflectively. "Well we shall
+see."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Frank liked Langdon. He was rather a slow-thinking man; not so
+clever at expedient as Ruef. But he was grounded in the Law--and
+honest. Moreover, he had courage. Powerful enemies and their
+machinations only stirred his zest.</p>
+<p>Single-handed Langdon might have been outwitted by the power and
+astuteness of his foes. But another mind, a keener one was soon to
+add its force to Langdon's. Francis J. Heney, special investigator
+of the Roosevelt government, who had unmasked and overthrown
+corruption in high places, was in town.</p>
+<p>Frank knew that he had come to San Francisco for a purpose. He
+met this nervous, wiry, sharp-eyed man in the managing editor's
+office now and again. Once he had entered rather unexpectedly upon
+a conference of Heney, former Mayor James D. Phelan, Rudolph
+Spreckels, son of the sugar nabob, and William J. Burns. Frank, who
+guessed he was intruding, made a noiseless exit; not, however, till
+he heard that there would be a thorough, secret search into the
+trolley franchise and some other actions of the Ruef
+administration. Spreckels and Phelan guaranteed to raise $100,000
+for this purpose. Burns and his detectives had for several months
+been quietly at work.</p>
+<p>On October 24 District Attorney Langdon publicly announced the
+appointment of Francis J. Heney as his assistant, stating that a
+thorough and fearless search into the actions of the city
+government would ensue.</p>
+<p>On October 25 the Supervisors met. Frank, himself, went to the
+council chamber to learn what was afoot. He suspected a sensation.
+But the Board met quietly enough at 2:30 o'clock, with Jim
+Gallagher in the chair. At 2:45 a special messenger called the
+acting Mayor to Ruef's office. Three hours later he was still
+absent from the angry and impatient Board.</p>
+<p>That some desperate move was imminent Frank realized. Here was
+Ruef between two bodeful dates. Yesterday had come the news that
+Langdon had appointed Heney--the relentless enemy of boodlers--to a
+place of power. Tomorrow would begin the impaneling of a Grand
+Jury, whose avowed purpose it was to "investigate municipal
+graft."</p>
+<p>"What would I do if I were Ruef?" Frank asked himself. But no
+answer came. He paced up and down the corridor, pondering the
+situation. At intervals he paused before the Supervisors' chamber.
+Once he found the door slightly ajar and listened shamelessly. He
+saw Big Jim Gallagher, red-faced, excited, apparently much
+flustered, reading a paper. He thought he heard Langdon's name and
+Heney's. There seemed to be dissension in the board. But before he
+learned anything definite a watchful attendant closed the portal
+with an angry slam. Frank resumed his pacing.</p>
+<p>Finally he went out for a bite to eat.</p>
+<br>
+<p>Frank returned half an hour later to find the reporters' room in
+an uproar. Big Jim Gallagher had dismissed Langdon from office with
+the corroboration of the Board of Supervisors, as a provision of
+the city ordinance permitted him to do. Ruef had been appointed
+district attorney.</p>
+<p>Langdon's forces were not disconcerted by the little boss's
+coup. Late that evening Frank advised his paper of a counterstroke.
+Heney had aroused Judge Seawell from his slumbers and obtained an
+order of the court enjoining Ruef from actual assumption of the
+title he had arrogated to himself.</p>
+<p>Judge Graham upheld it. Langdon remained the district attorney.
+Though Ruef imposed every possible obstacle, the Grand Jury was
+impaneled, November 7, and began its work of investigation with
+such startling celerity that Ruef and Schmitz faced charges of
+extortion on five counts, a week later.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXXIII"></a>CHAPTER LXXXIII</h2>
+<h3>IN THE TOILS</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Meanwhile Schmitz, who had but recently returned from Europe,
+became officially involved in the anti-Japanese agitation.</p>
+<p>"He's summoned East to see the President," said a Burns
+operative to Frank one morning as they met at Temple Israel. "Lucky
+devil, that big fellow! Here's the town at sixes and sevens about
+the 'little brown brother.' Doesn't want him with its white kids in
+the public schools. The Mikado stirs the devil of a row with
+Washington about it. And Teddy sends for 'Gene. Just his luck to
+come back a conquering hero."</p>
+<p>But Schmitz fared badly at the Capital, whence Roosevelt
+dispatched a "big stick" message to the California Legislature. At
+the same time George B. Keane, the Supervisors' clerk, and a State
+Senator as well, was working for the "Change of Venus bill," a
+measure which if passed, would have permitted Ruef to take his case
+out of the jurisdiction of Judge Dunne. But the bill was defeated.
+Once more Ruef's straining at the net of Justice had achieved no
+parting of the strands.</p>
+<p>On March 6 Stanley greeted Mayor Schmitz as he stepped from a
+train at Oakland Mole. Correspondents and reporters gathered round
+the tall, bearded figure. Schmitz looked tired, discouraged.</p>
+<p>Perfunctorily, uneasily, Schmitz answered the reporter's
+queries. He had done his level best for San Francisco. As for the
+charges pending against him, they would soon be disproved. No one
+had anything on him. All his acts were open to investigation.</p>
+<p>"Do you know that Ruef has skipped?" Frank asked.</p>
+<p>"Wh-a-a-t!" the Mayor set down his grip. He seemed struck all of
+a heap by the announcement.</p>
+<p>"Fact!" another newsman corroborated. "Abie's jumped his bond.
+He's the well-known 'fugitive from justice.'"</p>
+<p>Without a word the Mayor left them. He walked aboard the ferry
+boat alone. They saw him pacing back and forth across the forward
+deck, his long overcoat flapping in the wind, one hand holding the
+dark, soft hat down on his really magnificent head.</p>
+<p>"A ship without a rudder," said Frank. The others nodded.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Over the municipal administration was the shadow of Ruef's
+flight. The shepherd had deserted his flock. And the wolves of the
+law were howling.</p>
+<p>Frank was grateful to the Powers for this rushing pageant of
+political events. It gave him little chance to grieve. Now and then
+the tragedy of Bertha gripped him by the throat and shook him with
+its devastating loneliness. He found a certain solace in Aleta's
+company. She was always ready, glad to walk or dine with him. She
+knew his silences; she understood.</p>
+<p>But there were intervals of grief beyond all palliation; days
+when he worked blindly through a grist of tasks that seemed unreal.
+And at night he sought his room, to sit in darkness, suffering
+dumbly through the hours. Sometimes Dawn would find him thus.</p>
+<p>Robert Windham and his family had returned from the Hawaiian
+Islands. They had found a house in Berkeley; Windham opened offices
+on Fillmore street. Robert and his nephew visited occasionally a
+graveyard in the western part of town. The older man brought
+flowers and his tears fell frankly on a mound that was more recent
+than its neighbors. But Stanley did not join in these
+devotions.</p>
+<p>"She is not here," he said one day. "You know that, Uncle
+Robert."</p>
+<p>"She's up above," returned the other, brokenly. "My poor,
+wronged child!"</p>
+<p>Frank stared at him a moment. "Do you believe in the
+conventional Heaven?"</p>
+<p>"Why--er--yes," said Windham, startled. "Don't you, Frank?"</p>
+<p>"No," said Stanley, doggedly. "Not in that ... nor in a God that
+lets men suffer and be tempted into wrongs they can't resist ...
+makes them suffer for it."</p>
+<p>"What do you mean? Are you an atheist?" asked Windham,
+horrified.</p>
+<p>"No ... but I believe that God is Good. And knows no evil.
+Sometimes in the night when I've sat thinking, Bertha seems to come
+to me; tells me things I can't quite understand. Wonderful things,
+Uncle Robert."</p>
+<p>The other regarded him silently, curiously. He seemed at a
+loss.</p>
+<p>"I've learned to judge men with less harshness," Frank spoke on.
+"Ruef and Schmitz, for instance.... Every now and then I see the
+Mayor pacing on the ferryboat. It's rather pathetic, Uncle Robert.
+Did God raise him up from obscurity just to torture him? He's had
+wealth and honor--adoration from the people. Now he's facing
+prison. And those poor devils of Supervisors; they've known luxury,
+power. Now they're huddled like a pack of frightened sheep;
+everybody thinks they're guilty. Ruef's forsaken them. Ruef, with
+his big dream shattered, fleeing from the law...."</p>
+<p>He faced his uncle fiercely, questioning. "Is that God's work?
+And Bertha's body lying there, because of the sins of her
+forebears! Forgive me, Uncle Robert. I'm just thinking aloud."</p>
+<p>Windham placed a hand upon his nephew's shoulder. "I'm afraid I
+can't answer you, Frank," he said slowly. "You're a young man.
+You'll forget. The world goes on. And our griefs do not matter. We
+fall and we get up again ... just as Ruef and the others will."</p>
+<p>"Do you suppose they'll catch him--Ruef, I mean?"</p>
+<p>"Not if the big fellows can prevent it. If he's caught there'll
+be the deuce to pay. Our Pillars of Finance will topple.... No, I
+think Ruef is safe."</p>
+<p>"I don't quite understand," said Stanley.</p>
+<p>"Ruef, himself, is nothing; a political boss, a solicitor of
+bribes. But our corporation heads. The town will shake when they're
+accused, perhaps indicted. I know what's been going on. We're close
+to scandals that'll echo round the world."</p>
+<p>Frank looked at his uncle wonderingly. Windham was a corporation
+lawyer. Doubtless he knew. Silently the two men made their way out
+of the graveyard. Frank determined to ride down town with his
+uncle, and then telephone to Aleta. He hadn't seen her for a
+week.</p>
+<p>As the car passed the Call building they noted a crowd at Third
+and Market streets, reading a bulletin. People seemed excited.
+Frank jumped from the moving car and elbowed his way forward. In
+the newspaper window was a sheet of yellow paper inscribed in large
+script: "BURNS ARRESTS RUEF AT THE TROCADERO ROADHOUSE."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXXIV"></a>CHAPTER LXXXIV</h2>
+<h3>THE NET CLOSES</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Frank discussed the situation with Aleta one evening after
+Ruef's capture. Her friend, the Supervisor, had brought news of the
+alarm.</p>
+<p>"He says no one of them will trust the other; they're afraid of
+Gallagher; think he'll turn State's evidence, or whatever you call
+it. 'Squeal,' was what he said."</p>
+<p>"Burns and Heney must be putting on the screws," commented
+Frank.</p>
+<p>"Frank," Aleta laid a hand impulsively upon his arm, "I don't
+suppose there's any way to save this man ... I--oh, Frank, it would
+be awful if he went to prison."</p>
+<p>He stared at her. "What do you mean, Aleta?"</p>
+<p>"I mean," she answered, "that he's done things for me ...
+because he loves me ... hopes to win me. He's sincere in that....
+Oh, can't you see how it would hurt if--"</p>
+<p>"If he gets caught--stealing," Frank spoke harshly. "Well, you
+should have thought of that before, my dear."</p>
+<p>A touch of anger tinctured the appeal with which her eyes met
+his. "One doesn't always reason when the heart is sore. When one is
+bitter with--well--yearning."</p>
+<p>He did not answer. He was rather startled by that look. Finally
+she said, more gently: "Frank, you'll help him if you can--I know."
+He nodded.</p>
+<p>It was late. Aleta had to hurry to the theatre. Frank left her
+there and walked down Sutter street.</p>
+<p>He turned south toward Heney's office. It was in a little house
+between Geary and O'Farrell, up a short flight of stairs. Above
+were the living quarters of Heney and his companion, half clerk,
+half bodyguard.</p>
+<p>There was a light in the office, but the shades of the
+bay-window were tightly drawn. Frank rang the bell, which was not
+immediately answered. Finally the bodyguard came to the door. "Mr.
+Heney's very busy, very busy." He seemed tremendously excited.</p>
+<p>"Very well," said Frank; "I'll come tomorrow."</p>
+<p>"We'll have big news for you," the man announced. He shut the
+door hastily and double-locked it.</p>
+<p>Frank decided to remain in the neighborhood. He might learn
+something. The morning papers had been getting the best of it
+recently in the way of news.</p>
+<p>It proved a tiresome vigil. And the night was chilly. Frank
+began to walk briskly up and down the block. A dozen times he did
+this without result. Then the sudden rumble of a motor car spun him
+about. He saw two men hasten down the steps of Heney's office,
+almost leap into the car. Instantly it drove off. Frank, who
+followed to the corner, saw it traveling at high speed toward
+Fillmore street. He looked about for a motor cab in which to
+follow. There was none in sight. Reluctantly he turned toward home.
+He had been outwitted, doubtless by a watcher. But not completely.
+For he was morally certain that one of the men who left Heney's
+office was Big Jim Gallagher. That visit was significant. From his
+hotel Frank tried to locate the editor of his paper by telephone.
+He was not successful. He went to bed, disgusted, after leaving a
+daylight call.</p>
+<p>It was still dark when he dressed the next morning, the previous
+evening's events fresh in his thought.</p>
+<p>He had scarcely reached the street before a newsboy thrust a
+morning paper toward him. Frank saw that the upper half of the
+front page was covered with large black headlines. He snatched it,
+tossing the boy a "two-bit piece," and, without waiting or thinking
+of the change, became absorbed in the startling information it
+conveyed.</p>
+<p>Sixteen out of the eighteen Supervisors had confessed to taking
+bribes from half a dozen corporations. Wholesale indictments would
+follow, it was stated, involving the heads of public service
+companies--men of unlimited means, national influence. Many names
+were more than hinted at.</p>
+<p>Ruef, according to these confessions, had been the arch-plotter.
+He had received the funds that corrupted an entire city government.
+Gallagher had been the go-between, receiving a part of the "graft
+funds" to be divided among his fellow Supervisors.</p>
+<p>Each of the crooked sixteen had been guaranteed immunity from
+imprisonment in consideration of their testimony.</p>
+<p>"Well, that saves Aleta's friend, at any rate," thought Frank.
+He recalled his uncle's prediction that Ruef's capture would result
+in extraordinary revelations. But it had not been Ruef, after all,
+who "spilled the beans." Ruef might confess later. They would need
+his testimony to make the case complete.</p>
+<p>As a matter of fact, Ruef had already begun negotiations with
+Langdon and Heney looking toward a confession.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>The Grand Jury acted immediately upon the wholesale confessions
+of Ruef's Supervisors. They summoned before them the heads of many
+corporations, uncovering bribery so vast and open that they were
+astounded. They found that $200,000 had been paid for the trolley
+franchise and enormous sums for permits to raise gas rates, for
+telephone franchises, for prize-fight privileges and in connection
+with a realty transaction.</p>
+<p>The trolley bribe funds had been carried in a shirt box to Ruef
+by the company's attorney. Other transactions had been more or less
+"covered." But all were plain enough for instant recognition. San
+Francisco, which had suspected Ruef and his Supervisors with the
+easy tolerance of a people calloused to betrayal, was aroused by
+the insolent audacity of these transactions. It demanded blood.</p>
+<p>And Heney was prepared to furnish sanguine vengeance. He was
+after the "higher-ups," he stated. Like a passionate evangel of
+Mosaic law, he set out to secure it. Louis Glass, acting president
+of the telephone company, was indicted on a charge of felony, which
+made a great hallabaloo, for he was a personable man, a clubman,
+popular and generally esteemed.</p>
+<p>A subtle change--the primary index of that opposition which was
+to develop into a stupendous force--was noted by the prosecution.
+Heney and Langdon had been welcomed hitherto in San Francisco's
+fashionable clubs. Men of wealth and standing had been wont to
+greet them as they lunched there, commending their course, assuring
+them of cooperation.</p>
+<p>But after the telephone indictment there came a cooling of the
+atmosphere. Glass seemed more popular than ever. Langdon and Heney
+were often ignored. People failed to recognize them on the street.
+Even Spreckels and Phelan, despite their wealth and long
+established standing, suffered certain social ostracisms.</p>
+<p>Wealthy evildoers found themselves as definitely threatened by
+the law as were the Supervisors. But wealth is made of sterner
+stuff. It did not cringe nor huddle; could not seek immunity
+through the confessional. Famous lawyers found themselves in high
+demand. From New York, where he had fought a winning fight for
+Harry Thaw, came Delphin Delmas. T.C. Coogan, another famous
+pleader, entered the lists against Heney in defense of Glass.</p>
+<p>Meanwhile the drawing of jurors for Ruef's trial progressed,
+inexorably.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXXV"></a>CHAPTER LXXXV</h2>
+<h3>THE SEVEN PLAGUES</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Several weeks passed. Politics were in a hectic state, and
+people grumbled. Frank discussed the situation with his Uncle
+Robert. "Why don't they oust these grafters from office?" he
+asked.</p>
+<p>Windham smiled. "Because they daren't, Frank," he answered. "If
+the prosecution forced the Supervisors to resign, which would be
+easy enough, do you know what would happen?"</p>
+<p>"Why, they'd fill their posts with better men, of course."</p>
+<p>"Not so fast, my boy. The Mayor has the power to fill all
+vacancies due to resignations. Don't you see what would happen?
+Schmitz could select another board over whom the prosecution would
+hold no power. Then, if necessary, he'd resign and his new board
+would fill the Mayor's chair with some one whom Ruef or the Mayor
+could trust. Then the city government would once more be
+independent of the law."</p>
+<p>"Lord! What a tangle," Frank ruminated. "How will they
+straighten it out?"</p>
+<p>"Remove the Mayor--if they can convict him of felony."</p>
+<p>"Suppose they do. What then?"</p>
+<p>"The prosecution forces can then use their power over the
+boodlers--force them to appoint a Mayor who's to Langdon's liking.
+Afterward they'll force the Supervisors to resign and the new Mayor
+will put decent people in their stead."</p>
+<p>"Justice!" apostrophized Frank, "thy name is Red Tape!"</p>
+<p>Heney alone was to enter the lists against Delmas and Coogan in
+the trial of Louis Glass. The charge was bribing Supervisor Boxton
+to vote against the Home telephone franchise.</p>
+<p>Frank had seen Glass at the Press Club, apparently a sound and
+honest citizen. A little doubt crept into Frank's mind. If men like
+that could stoop to the bribing of Supervisors, what was American
+civilization coming to?</p>
+<p>He looked in at the Ruef trial to see if anything had happened.
+For the past two months there had been nothing but technical
+squabbles, interminable hitches and delays.</p>
+<p>Ruef was conferring with his attorneys. All at once he stepped
+forward, holding a paper in his hand. Tears were streaming down his
+face. He began to read in sobbing, broken accents.</p>
+<p>The crowd was so thick that Frank could not get close enough to
+hear Ruef's words. It seemed a confession or condonation. Scattered
+fragments reached Frank's ears. Then the judge's question, clearly
+heard, "What is your plea?"</p>
+<p>"Guilty!" Ruef returned.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Ruef's confession served to widen the breach between Class and
+Mass. He implicated many corporation heads and social leaders in a
+sorry tangle of wrongdoing. Other situations added fuel to the
+flame of economic war. The strike of the telephone girls had
+popular support, a sympathy much strengthened by the charges of
+bribery pending against telephone officials.</p>
+<br>
+<a name="page388.jpg"></a>
+<p class="ctr"><img src="images/page388.jpg" width="85%" alt=
+""><br>
+<b>All at once he stepped forward.... Tears were streaming down his
+face. Then the judge's question, clearly heard, "What is your
+plea?" "Guilty!" Ruef returned.</b></p>
+<br>
+<p>Ten thousand ironworkers were on strike at a time when their
+service was imperative, for San Francisco was rebuilding
+feverishly. Capital made telling use of this to bolster its
+impaired position in the public mind. While "pot called kettle
+black," the city suffered. The visitation of some strange disease,
+which certain physicians hastened to classify as bubonic plague,
+very nearly brought the untold evils of a quarantine. A famous
+sanitarian from the East decided it was due to rats. He came and
+slew his hundred-thousands of the rodents. Meanwhile the malady had
+ceased. But there were other troubles.</p>
+<p>Fire had destroyed the deeds and titles stored in the Recorder's
+office, as well as other records. Great confusion came with
+property transfer and business contracts. But, worst of all,
+perhaps, was the street car strike.</p>
+<p>"It seems as though the Seven Plagues of Egypt were being
+repeated," remarked Frank to his uncle as they lunched together.
+They had come to be rather good companions, with the memory of
+Bertha between them. For Frank, within the past twelve months, had
+passed through much illuminating experience.</p>
+<p>Robert Windham, too, was a changed man. He cared less for money.
+Frank knew that he had declined big fees to defend some of the
+"higher ups" against impending charges of the graft prosecution.
+Windham smiled as he answered Frank's comment about the Seven
+Plagues.</p>
+<p>"We'll come out of it with flying colors, my boy. A city is a
+great composite heart that keeps beating, sometimes fast, sometimes
+slow, but the healthy blood rules in the main; it conquers all
+passing distempers."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Market street was queer and unnatural without its rushing
+trolley cars. All sorts of horse-drawn vehicles rattled up and
+down, carrying passengers to and from the ferry. Many of the
+strikers were acting as Jehus of improvised stages. Autotrucks,
+too, were impressed into service. They rumbled along, criss-crossed
+with "circus seats," always crowded.</p>
+<p>Frank made his way northward and east through the ruins. Here
+and there little shops had opened; eating houses for the army of
+rehabilitation. They seemed to Frank symbols of renewed life in the
+blackened waste, like tender, green shoots in a flame-ravaged
+forest. Sightseers were beginning to swarm through the burned
+district, seeking relics.</p>
+<p>A large touring car honked raucously almost in Frank's ear as he
+was crossing Sutter street, and he sprinted out of its lordly
+course, turning just in time to see the occupant of the back seat,
+a large man, rather handsome, in a hard, iron-willed way. He sat
+stiffly erect, unbending and aloof, with a kind of arrogance which
+just escaped being splendid. This was Patrick Calhoun, president of
+the United Railroads, who had sworn to break the Carmen's Union. It
+was said that Calhoun had sworn, though less loudly, to break the
+graft prosecution as well.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>On Montgomery street several financial institutions were doing
+business in reclaimed ruins. One of these was the California Safe
+Deposit and Trust Company, which had made spectacular history of
+late. It was said that spiritualism entered into its affairs. Frank
+had been working on the story, which promised a sensation.</p>
+<p>As he neared the corner of California and Montgomery streets,
+where the crumbled bank walls had been transformed into a temporary
+habitation, he saw a crowd evidently pressing toward it. The bank
+doors were closed, though it was not yet three o'clock. Now and
+then people broke from the throng and wandered disconsolately away.
+One of these, a gray-haired woman, came in Frank's direction. He
+asked her what was wrong.</p>
+<p>"They're busted ... and they've got me money," she wailed.</p>
+<p>Hastily Frank verified her statement. Then he hurried to the
+office, found his notes and for an hour wrote steadily, absorbedly
+a spectacular tale of superstition, extravagance and financial
+chaos. As he turned in his copy the editor handed him a slip of
+paper on which was written: "Call Aleta Boice at once." He sought a
+telephone, but there was no response. He tried again, but vainly. A
+third attempt, however, and Aleta's voice, half frantic, answered
+his.</p>
+<p>"He's killed himself," she cried. "Oh, Frank, I don't know what
+to do."</p>
+<p>"He? Who?" Frank asked startled.</p>
+<p>"Frank, you know! The man who wanted me to--"</p>
+<p>"Do you mean the Supervisor?"</p>
+<p>"Yes.... They say it was an accident. But I know better. He lost
+his money in the safe deposit failure.... Oh, Frank, please come to
+me, quick."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXXVI"></a>CHAPTER LXXXVI</h2>
+<h3>A NEW CITY GOVERNMENT</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Frank found Aleta, dry-eyed, frantic, pacing up and down her
+little sitting room which always looked so quaintly attractive with
+its jumble of paintings and bric-a-brac, its distinctive furniture
+and draperies--all symbolic of the helter-skelter artistry which
+was a part of Aleta's nature. She took Frank's hand and clung to
+it.</p>
+<p>"I'm so glad you've come," she whispered. "I'm so glad you've
+come."</p>
+<p>It was a little time ere she could tell him of the tragedy. The
+man had been run over, quickly killed. Witnesses had seen him
+stagger, fall directly in the path of an advancing car. A doctor
+called it apoplexy.</p>
+<p>"But I know better," sobbed Aleta, for the tears had come by
+now. "He never was sick in his life. He thought he'd lost me when
+the money went ... his money in the California Safe Deposit
+Company."</p>
+<p>Frank took a seat beside her on the couch, whose flaming, joyous
+colors seemed a mockery just then. "Aleta," he said, "I wish I
+could help you. I wish I knew how, but I don't."</p>
+<p>She lifted her tear-stained eyes to his with a curious
+bitterness. "No ... you don't. But thank you. Just your coming's
+helped me, Frank. I'm better. Go--and let me think things over."
+She tried to smile, but the tears came.</p>
+<p>"Life's a hideous puzzle. Perhaps if I'd gone with him, all
+would have come right.... I'd have made him happy."</p>
+<p>"But what about yourself?"</p>
+<p>Again that bitter, enigmatic look came to her eyes. "I guess ...
+that doesn't matter, Frank."</p>
+<p>He left her, a queer ache in his heart. Was she right about the
+man's committing suicide. Poor devil! He had stolen for a woman.
+Others had filched his plunder. Then God had taken his misguided
+life.</p>
+<p>But had He? Was God a murderer? A passive conniver at theft? No,
+that were blasphemy! Yet, if He <i>permitted</i> such things--? No,
+that couldn't be, either. It was all an abominable enigma, as Aleta
+said. Unless--the thought came startlingly--it were all a dream, a
+nightmare. Thus Kant, the great philosopher, believed. Obsessed by
+the idea, he paused before a book-store. Its show window
+prominently displayed Francisco Stanley's latest novel.</p>
+<p>Frank missed the mellow wisdom of his father's counsel
+seriously. He entered the shop, found a volume of Kant and scanned
+it for some moments till he read:</p>
+<p>"This world's life is only an appearance, a sensuous image of
+the pure spiritual life, and the whole of Sense is only a picture
+swimming before our present knowing faculty like a dream and having
+no reality in itself."</p>
+<p>Acting upon a strange impulse, he bought the book, marked the
+passage and ordered it sent to Aleta.</p>
+<p>A week after Ruef's confession the trial of Mayor Schmitz began.
+It dragged through the usual delays which clever lawyers can exact
+by legal technicality. Judge Dunne, sitting in the auditorium of
+the Bush Street synagogue, between the six-tinned ceremonial
+candlesticks and in front of the Mosiac tablets of Hebraic law,
+dispensed modern justice.</p>
+<p>Meanwhile the Committee of Seven sprang suddenly into being. A
+morning paper announced that Schmitz had handed the reins of the
+city over to a septette of prominent citizens. Governor Gillette
+lauded this action. But Rudolph Spreckels disowned the Committee.
+Langdon and Heney were suspicious of its purpose. So the Committee
+of Seven resigned.</p>
+<p>At this juncture the Schmitz trial ended in conviction of the
+Mayor which was tantamount to his removal from office. It left a
+vacancy which, nominally, the Supervisors had the power to fill.
+But they were under Langdon's orders. Actually, therefore, the
+District Attorney found himself confronted by the task of naming a
+new mayor.</p>
+<p>Unexpectedly the man was found in Edward Robeson Taylor, doctor
+of medicine and law, poet and Greek scholar. The selection was
+hailed with relief. Frank hastened to the Taylor home, a trim,
+white dwelling on California street near Webster. He found a
+genial, curly-haired old gentleman sitting in a room about whose
+walls were thousands of books. He was reading Epictetus.</p>
+<p>Stanley found the new mayor likeable and friendly. He seemed a
+man of simple thought. Frank wondered how he would endure the
+roiling passions of this city's politics. Dr. Taylor seemed
+undaunted by the prospect, though.</p>
+<p>Without delay he was elected by the Supervisors. Then began the
+farcical procedure of their resignations. One by one the new chief
+named good citizens as their successors.</p>
+<p>But the real fight was now beginning. Halsey's testimony had not
+incriminated Glass beyond a peradventure. There remained a shade of
+doubt that he had authorized the outlay of a certain fund for the
+purposes of bribery. The jury disagreed. The Prosecution's first
+battle against the "higher-ups" had brought no victory.</p>
+<p>Ruef was failing Heney as a witness for the people. After months
+of bargaining the special prosecutor withdrew his tacit offer of
+immunity. Heney's patience with the wily little Boss, who knew no
+end of legal subterfuge, was suddenly exhausted. Frank heard that
+Ruef was to be tried on one of the three hundred odd indictments
+found against him. Schmitz had been sentenced to five years in San
+Quentin. He had appealed.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Several times Frank tried to reach Aleta on the telephone. But
+she did not respond to calls, a fact which he attributed to
+disorganized service. But presently there came a letter from Camp
+Curry in the Yosemite Valley.</p>
+<p>"I am here among the everlasting pines and cliffs," she wrote,
+"thinking it all out. I thank you for the book, which has helped
+me. If only we might waken from our 'dream'! But here one is nearer
+to God. It is very quiet and the birds sing always in the golden
+sunshine.</p>
+<p>"I shall come back saner, happier, to face the world.... Perhaps
+I can forget myself in service, I think I shall try settlement
+work.</p>
+<p>"Meanwhile I am trying not to think of what has happened ...
+what can never happen. I am reading and painting. Yesterday a dog
+came up and licked my hand. I cried a little after that, I don't
+know why."</p>
+<p>In his room that evening, Frank re-read the letter. It brought a
+lump to his throat.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXXVII"></a>CHAPTER LXXXVII</h2>
+<h3>NORAH FINDS OUT</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Very soon after the appointment of Mayor Taylor, the second
+trial of Louis Glass ended in his conviction. He was remanded to
+the county jail awaiting an appeal. The trial of an official of the
+United Railways began. Meanwhile the politicians rallied for
+election.</p>
+<p>Schmitz had been elected at the end of 1905. His term, which Dr.
+Taylor was completing, would be terminated with the closing of the
+present year. And now the Graft Prosecution was to learn by public
+vote how many of the people stood behind it.</p>
+<p>Union Labor, ousted and discredited by venal representatives,
+was not officially in favor of the Taylor-Langdon slate. P.H.
+McCarthy, labor leader and head of the Building Trades Council, was
+Labor's nominee for Mayor.</p>
+<p>Frank met McCarthy now and then. He posed as "a plain, blunt
+man," but back of the forthright handgrip, the bluff directness of
+manner, Frank scented a massive and wily self-interest. He
+respected the man for his power, his crude but undeniable executive
+talents.</p>
+<p>The two opponents for the Mayoralty were keenly contrasted.
+Taylor was quiet, suavely cultured, widely read but rather passive.
+Some said he lacked initiative.</p>
+<p>Frank MacGowan was Langdon's foeman in the struggle for the
+district attorneyship. Little could be said for or against him. A
+lawyer of good reputation who had made his way upward by merit and
+push, he had done nothing big. He was charged with no wrong.</p>
+<p>The "dark horse" was Daniel Ryan.</p>
+<p>Ryan was a young Irishman, that fine type of political leader
+who approximates what has sometimes been called a practical
+idealist. He had set out to reform the Republican Party and
+achieved a certain measure of success, for he had beaten the Herrin
+or Railroad forces at the Republican Convention. Ryan was avowedly
+pro-prosecution. It was believed that he would deliver his party's
+nomination to Taylor and Langdon.</p>
+<p>But he astonished San Francisco voters by becoming a candidate
+for mayor.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Aleta had returned from Camp Curry. There was a certain quiet in
+her eyes, a greater self-control, a better facing of Life's
+problems. They spoke of Kant and his philosophy. "The Nightmare is
+less turbulent," she said.</p>
+<p>One evening at her apartment Frank met a young woman named
+France, a fragile, fine-haired, dreamy sort of girl, and he was not
+surprised to learn that she wrote poetry.</p>
+<p>"Norah's been working as a telephone operator," explained Aleta.
+"She's written a story about it--the working girl's wrongs.... Oh,
+not the ordinary wail-and-whine," she added hastily. "It's real
+meat. I've read it. The Saturday Magazine's considering it."</p>
+<p>Miss France smiled deprecatingly. "I have high hopes," she said.
+"I need the money."</p>
+<p>"It will give you prestige, too," Frank told her, but she shook
+her head.</p>
+<p>"Norah hasn't signed her name to it," Aleta disapproved. "Just
+because a friend, a well known writer in Carmel, has fixed it up
+for her a little."</p>
+<p>"It doesn't seem like mine," the girl remarked. Aleta rose.
+"This is election night," she said; "let's go down and watch the
+returns."</p>
+<p>They did this, standing on the fringe of a crowd that thronged
+about the newspaper offices, watching, eager, but patient, the
+figures which were flashed on a screen.</p>
+<p>The crowd was less demonstrative than is usual on such
+occasions. A feeling of anxiety prevailed, a consciousness of vital
+issues endangered and put to the test. Toward midnight the crowd
+grew thicker. But it was more joyous now. Taylor and Langdon were
+leading. It became evident that they must win.</p>
+<p>Suddenly the restless stillness of the throng was broken by
+spontaneous cheering. It was impressive, overwhelming, like a great
+burst of relieved emotion.</p>
+<p>Norah France caught Frank's arm as the celebrants eddied round
+them. The press was disbanding with an almost violent haste.
+"Where's Aleta?" asked the girl.</p>
+<p>Frank searched amid the human eddies, but in vain. "She got
+separated from us somehow," he said rather helplessly. They
+searched farther, without result. Aleta doubtless had gone
+home.</p>
+<p>"I wonder if you'd take me somewhere ... for a cup of coffee,"
+said Miss France. The hand upon his arm grew heavy. "I'm a little
+faint."</p>
+<p>"Surely." He suggested a popular cafe, but she shook her head.
+"Just some quiet little place ... a 'chop house.' That's what the
+switch-girls call them."</p>
+<p>So they entered a pair of swinging doors inscribed "Ladies" on
+one side and "Gents" on the other. Miss France laughingly insisted
+that they pass each on the proper side of this divided portal. She
+was a creature of swift moods; one moment feverishly gay, the next
+brooding, with a penchant for satire. He wondered how she endured
+the hard work of a telephone switch-operator. But one felt that
+whatever she willed she would do. Eagerly she sipped her steaming
+coffee from a heavy crockery cup, nibbling at a bit of French
+bread. Then she said to him so suddenly that he almost sprang out
+of his chair.</p>
+<p>"Do you know that Aleta Boice loves you?"</p>
+<p>He looked at her annoyed and disturbed by the question.</p>
+<p>"No, I don't," he answered slowly. "Nor do I understand just
+what you're driving at, Miss France."</p>
+<p>"If you'll forgive me," her eyes were upon him, "I am driving at
+masculine obtuseness ... and Aleta's happiness."</p>
+<p>"Then you're wasting your time," he spoke sharply. "Aleta loves
+another.... She's told me so."</p>
+<p>"Did she tell you his name?"</p>
+<p>"No, some prig of a professor, probably.... Thinks he's 'not her
+kind.'"</p>
+<p>"Yes ... let's have another cup of coffee. Yes, Aleta told me
+that."</p>
+<p>Frank signalled to the waiter. "She's anybody's kind," he said,
+forcibly.</p>
+<p>"But not yours, Mr. Stanley."</p>
+<p>"Mine? Why not?"</p>
+<p>"Because you don't love her." Norah's tone was sad, half bitter.
+"Will you forgive me? I'm sorry I provoked you.... But I had to
+know.... Aleta's such a dear. She's been so good to me."</p>
+<p>The Christmas holidays brought handsome stock displays to all
+the stores. San Francisco was still flush with insurance money but
+there was a pinch of poverty in certain quarters. The Refugee Camps
+had been cleared, public parks and squares restored to their normal
+state.</p>
+<p>Langdon and Heney worked on. Another jury brought a verdict of
+"not guilty" at the second trial of a trolley-bribe defendant. Some
+of the newspapers had changed by almost imperceptible degrees, were
+veering toward the cause of the defense.</p>
+<p>Then, like a thunderbolt, in January, 1908, came news that the
+Appellate Court had set aside the conviction of Ruef and Schmitz.
+Technical errors were assigned as the cause of this decision. The
+people gasped. But some of the newspapers defended the Appellate
+Judges' decree.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER LXXXVIII</h2>
+<h3>THE SHOOTING OF HENEY</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Heney and Langdon, who had had, perhaps, some inkling of an
+adverse decision, went grimly on. Enemies of Prosecution, backed by
+an enormous fund, were setting innumerable obstacles in their way.
+Witnesses disappeared or changed their testimony. Jurors showed
+evidence of having been tampered with. Through a subsidized press
+an active propaganda of Innuendo and Slander was begun.</p>
+<p>Calhoun's trial still loomed vaguely in the distance. Heney,
+overworked and harassed in a multitude of ways--keyed to a battle
+with ruffians, gun-men and shysters as well as the ablest exponents
+of law, developed a nervousness of manner, a bitterness of mind
+which sometimes led him to extremes.</p>
+<p>"He isn't sleeping well," his faithful bodyguard confided to
+Frank one afternoon when they met on Van Ness avenue. "He comes
+down in the morning trying to smile but I know he feels as though
+he'd like to bite my head off. I can see it in his eyes. He needs a
+rest."</p>
+<p>"Mr. Calhoun evidently thinks so, too," retorted Stanley. "The
+Honorable Pat is trying to retire him."</p>
+<p>"He'll never succeed," said the other explosively. "Frank
+Heney's not that kind. He'll fight on till he drops.... But I hate
+to see those boughten lawyers ragging him in court."</p>
+<p>Langdon, more phlegmatic of temperament, stood the gaff with
+less apparent friction. Hiram Johnson gave aid now and then which
+was always of value. There was a dauntless quality about the man, a
+rugged double-fisted force which made him feared by his
+opponents.</p>
+<p>Frank Stanley looked in at the second Ruef trial. He found it a
+kaleidoscope of dramatic and tragic events. Heney, who had been the
+target for a volley of insinuations from Ruef's attorneys, was
+nervous and distraught. Several times he had been goaded into
+altercation; had struck back with a bitterness that showed his
+mounting anger. Stanley noted that he was "on edge," and rather
+looked for "fireworks," as the reporters called these verbal duels
+of the Prosecution trials. But he was astonished to see Heney turn
+upon an unoffending juryman in sudden fury. The man had a fat,
+good-natured Teuton face with small eyes and a heavy manner. His
+name was Morris Haas. He had asked to be excused but the judge had
+not granted his plea.</p>
+<p>Now he seemed to cower in exaggerated fright before the
+Prosecutor's pointed finger. A little hush ensued. A tense dramatic
+pause. Then Heney branded Haas before the court-room as a former
+convict.</p>
+<p>The man broke down utterly. Many years before he had served a
+short term in prison. After his release he had married, raised a
+family, "lived a respectable life," as he pleaded in hysterical
+extenuation. He kept a grocery store.</p>
+<p>Haas stumbled from the court-room and Frank followed him. He
+could not help but feel a certain pity for the poor wretch, wailing
+brokenly that he was "ruined." He could never face his friends
+again. His customers would leave him. Frank learned the details of
+his ancient crime; he also ascertained that Haas had lived rightly
+since. The incident rankled. He wrote a guarded story of the
+affair. But he did not mention one episode of Haas' exposure. As
+the man staggered out Frank had heard another whisper
+sympathetically, "I would kill the man who did that to me."</p>
+<p>Justice often has its cruel, relentless aspects. Haas, with his
+weak, heavy face, stayed in Stanley's memory. An ordinary man might
+have tried again and won. But Haas was drunken with self-pity and
+the melancholy of his race. He would brood and suffer. Frank felt
+sorry for the man, and, somehow, vaguely apprehensive.</p>
+<p>Ruef's trial ended in a disagreement of the jury. It was a
+serious blow. Most of the San Francisco papers heaped abuse upon
+the Prosecution, its attorneys and its judges.</p>
+<p>Matters dragged along until the 13th of November. Gallagher was
+on the witness stand. He testified with the listlessness of many
+repetitions to the sordid facts of San Francisco's betrayal by
+venal public servants. It was all more or less perfunctory.
+Everyone had heard the tale from one to half a dozen times.</p>
+<p>Heney was at the attorneys' table talking animatedly with an
+assistant. The jury had left the room and Gallagher stepped down
+from the stand to have a word with the prosecutor. A few feet away
+was Heney's bodyguard lolling, plainly bored by the testimony.
+There was the usual buzz of talk which marks a lull in court
+proceedings.</p>
+<p>Into this scene came with covert tread a wild, dramatic figure.
+No one noted his approach. Morris Haas, glittering of eye,
+dishevelled, mad with loss of sleep and brooding, had crept into
+the court-room unheeded. He approached the attorneys' table
+stealthily.</p>
+<p>All at once Frank saw him standing within a foot of Heney.
+Something glittered in his outstretched hand. Frank shouted, but
+his warning lost itself in a wild cry of revengeful accusation.
+There was a sharp report; smoke rose. An acrid smell of exploded
+powder hung upon the air. Heney, with a cry, fell backward. Blood
+spurted from his neck.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Once more the city was afire with men's passions. Haas was
+rushed to the county jail and Heney to a hospital, where it was
+found, amid great popular rejoicing, that the wound was not a fatal
+one. Had it been otherwise no human power could have protected Haas
+from lynching.</p>
+<p>A great mass meeting was held. Langdon, Phelan, Mayor Taylor
+pleaded for order. "Let us see to it," said the last, "that no
+matter who else breaks the law, we shall uphold it." This became
+the keynote of the meeting. Rudolph Spreckels, who arrived late,
+was greeted with tumultuous cheering.</p>
+<p>Frank and Aleta were impressed by the spontaneity of the huge
+popular turnout. "It means," said the girl, as they made their
+exit, "that San Francisco is again aroused to its danger. What a
+great, good natured, easy-going body of men and women this town is!
+We feed on novelty and are easily wearied. That's why so many have
+back-slid who were strong for the Prosecution at first."</p>
+<p>"Yes, you're right," answered Frank. "We alternate between
+spasms of Virtue and comfortable inertias of Don't-care-a-Damn!
+That's San Francisco!"</p>
+<p>"The Good Gray City," he added after a little silence. "We love
+it in spite of its faults and upheavals, don't we, Aleta?"</p>
+<p>"Perhaps because of them." She squeezed his arm. For a time they
+walked on without speaking. "How is your settlement work
+progressing?" he asked at length.</p>
+<p>But she did not answer, for a shrieking newsie thrust a paper in
+her hand. "Buy an extra, lady," he importuned her. "All about
+Morris Haas' suicide!"</p>
+<p>She tossed him a coin and he rushed off, shrilling his tragic
+revelation. Huge black headlines announced that Heney's assailant
+had shot himself to death in his cell.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXXIX"></a>CHAPTER LXXXIX</h2>
+<h3>DEFEAT OF THE PROSECUTION</h3>
+<br>
+<p>While Heney lay upon the operating table of a San Francisco
+hospital, three prominent attorneys volunteered to take his place.
+They were Hiram Johnson, Matt I. Sullivan and J.J. Dwyer. Ruef's
+trial went on with renewed vigor three days after the attempted
+killing, though the defendant's attorneys exhausted every expedient
+for delay. It was a case so thorough and complete that nothing
+could save the prisoner. He was found guilty of bribing a
+Supervisor in the overhead trolley transaction and sentenced to
+serve fourteen years in San Quentin penitentiary.</p>
+<p>Frank was in the court-room when Ruef's sentence was imposed.
+The Little Boss seemed oddly aged and nerveless; the old look of
+power was gone from his eyes. Frank recalled Ruef's plan of a
+political Utopia. The man had started with a golden dream, a genius
+for organization which might have achieved great things. But his
+lower self had conquered. He had sold his dream for gold. And
+retribution was upon him.</p>
+<p>Frank thought of Patrick Calhoun, large, blustering, arrogant
+with the pride of an old Southern family; the power of limitless
+wealth between him and punishment; a masterful figure who had
+broken a labor union and who scoffed at Law. And Eugene Schmitz,
+once happy as a fiddler. Schmitz was trying to face it out in the
+community. Frank could not tell if that was courage or a sort of
+impudence.</p>
+<p>During the holidays Frank visited his parents in San Diego. His
+granduncle, Benito Windham, had died abroad. And his mother was
+ailing. Frank and his father discussed the Prosecution.</p>
+<p>"It has had its day," the elder Stanley said. "Your public is
+listless, sick of the whole rotten mess. They've lost the moral
+perspective. All they want is to have it over."</p>
+<p>"I guess I feel the same way." Frank's eyes were downcast.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Sometimes Frank met Norah France at Aleta's apartment, but she
+carefully avoided further mention of the topic they had talked of
+on election night. Frank liked her poetry. With a spirit less
+morbid she would have made a name for herself he thought.</p>
+<p>Aleta was doing more and more settlement work. She had been
+playing second lead at the theater and had had a New York offer.
+Frank could not understand why she refused it. But Norah did,
+though she kept the secret from Frank.</p>
+<p>"Do you know how many talesmen have been called in the Calhoun
+trial?" Aleta asked, looking up from the newspaper. "There were
+nearly 1500 in the Ruef case. They called that a record." She
+laughed.</p>
+<p>"Of course Pat Calhoun would wish to outdo Abe Ruef," said
+Frank. "That's only to be expected. He's had close to 2500, I
+reckon."</p>
+<p>"Not quite," Aleta referred to the printed sheet. "Your paper
+says 2370 veniremen were called into court. That's what money can
+do. If he'd been some poor devil charged with stealing a bottle of
+milk from the doorstep, how long would it take to convict him?"</p>
+<p>"It's a rotten world," the other girl spoke with a sudden gust
+of bitterness. "A world without honor or justice."</p>
+<p>"Or a nightmare," said Frank, with a glance at Aleta.</p>
+<p>"Well, if it is, I'm going to wake up soon--in one way or
+another," said Norah. "I will promise you that." To Frank the words
+seemed ominous. He left soon afterward.</p>
+<p>The Calhoun trial dragged interminably. Heney, not entirely
+recovered from his wound, but back in court, faced a battery of the
+country's highest priced attorneys. There were A.A. and Stanley
+Moore, Alexander King, who was Calhoun's law partner in the South;
+Lewis F. Byington, a former district attorney; J.J. Barrett, Earl
+Rogers, a sensationally successful criminal defender from Los
+Angeles, and Garret McEnerney. Heney had but one assistant, John
+O'Gara, a deputy in Langdon's office.</p>
+<p>For five long months the Prosecution fought such odds. Heney
+lost his temper frequently in court. He was on the verge of a nerve
+prostration. Anti-prosecution papers hinted that his faculties were
+failing. Langdon more or less withdrew from the fight. He was tired
+of it; had declined to be a candidate for the district attorneyship
+in the Fall. Heney was the Prosecution's only hope. He consented to
+run; which added to his legal labors the additional tasks of
+preparing for a campaign.</p>
+<p>It was not to be wondered at that Heney failed to convict
+Calhoun. The jury disagreed after many ballots. A new trial was
+set. But before a jury was empanelled the November ballot gave the
+Prosecution its "coup de grace."</p>
+<p>P.H. McCarthy was elected Mayor. Charles Fickert defeated Heney
+for the district attorneyship. An anti-Prosecution government took
+office.</p>
+<p>"Big Jim" Gallagher, the Prosecution's leading witness,
+disappeared.</p>
+<p>Fickert sought dismissal of the Calhoun case and finally
+obtained it.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>San Francisco heaved a sigh of relief and turned its attention
+toward another problem. Its people planned a great world exposition
+to celebrate the opening of the Panama Canal.</p>
+<p>With the close of the Graft trials, San Francisco put its
+shoulders in concerted effort to the wheel. There were rivals now.
+San Diego claimed a prior plan. New Orleans was importuning
+Congress to support it in an Exposition. The Southern city sent its
+lobbying delegation to the Capitol. San Francisco seemed about to
+lose.</p>
+<p>But the city was aroused to one of its outbursts of pioneer
+energy. The Panama-Pacific International Exposition Company was
+organized. A meeting was called at the Merchants' Exchange. There,
+in two hours, $4,000,000 was subscribed by local merchants.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XC"></a>CHAPTER XC</h2>
+<h3>THE MEASURE OF REDEMPTION</h3>
+<br>
+<p>Frank journeyed East with a party of "Exposition Boosters" after
+the memorable meeting in the Merchants' Exchange. The import of
+that afternoon's work had been flashed around the world. It swung
+the tide of public sentiment from New Orleans toward the Western
+Coast. Congress heard the clink of Power in those millions.
+President Taft discerned a spirit of efficiency that would
+guarantee success. He did not desire another Jamestown fiasco. He
+had an open admiration for the city which in four years could
+rebuild itself from ashes, suffer staunchly through disrupting
+ordeals of political upheaval and unite its forces in a mighty plan
+to entertain the World.</p>
+<p>Frank went to the White House for an interview. He clasped the
+large, firm hand which had guided so many troubled ships of state
+for the Roosevelt regime, looked into the twinkling eyes that hid
+so keen a force behind their kindness. Stanley soon discovered that
+in this big, bluff President his city had a friend.</p>
+<p>"What shall I say to the people at home for you, Mr. President?
+Will you give me a message?"</p>
+<p>The Chief Executive was thoughtful for an instant. Then he said,
+"Go back, my boy, and tell them this from me, 'SAN FRANCISCO KNOWS
+HOW!'"</p>
+<p>Frank left the White House, eager and enthusiastic; sought a
+telegraph office. On the following day Market street blazed with
+the slogan.</p>
+<p>In New York, where he went from Washington, Frank heard echoes
+of that speech. San Francisco's cause gained new and sudden favor.
+Frank found the Eastern press, which hitherto had favored New
+Orleans, was veering almost imperceptibly toward the Golden
+Gate.</p>
+<p>He met many San Franciscans in New York. John O'Hara Cosgrave
+was editing Everybody's Magazine, "Bob" Davis was at the head of
+the Munsey publications, Edwin Markham wrote world-poetry on Staten
+Island, "in a big house filled with books and mosquitoes," as a
+friend described it. "Bill" and Wallace Irwin were there, the
+former "batching" in a flat on Washington Square. All of them were
+glad to talk of San Francisco.</p>
+<p>Charley Aiken, editor of Sunset Magazine, was with the boosters.
+Stanley met him in New York. He had a plan for buying the
+publication from its railroad sponsors; making it an independent
+organ of the literary West. Things were looking up for San
+Francisco.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Frank was glad to get back. He had enjoyed his visit to the
+East. But it was mighty good to ride up Market street again. It
+looked quite as it did before the fire. One would have found it
+difficult to believe that this new city with its towering, handsome
+architecture, had lain, a few years back, the shambles of the
+greatest conflagration history has known.</p>
+<p>On Christmas eve Frank and Aleta went down town to hear
+Tetrazzini sing in the streets. The famous prima donna faced an
+audience which numbered upward of a hundred thousand. They
+thronged--a joyous celebrant, dark mass--on Market, Geary, Third
+and Kearny streets. Every window was ablaze, alive with silhouetted
+figures. Frank, who had engaged a window in the Monadnock Block,
+could not get near the entrance. So he and Aleta stood in the
+street.</p>
+<p>"It's nicer," she whispered happily, "to be here among the
+people.... I feel closer to them. As if I could sense the big Pulse
+of Life that makes us all brothers and sisters."</p>
+<p>Frank looked down at her understandingly, but did not speak.
+Tetrazzini had begun her song. Its first notes floated faintly
+through the vast and unwalled auditorium. Then her voice grew
+clearer, surer.</p>
+<p>Never had those bustling, noisy streets known such a stillness
+as prevailed this night. The pure soprano which had thrilled a
+world of high-priced audiences rang out in a wondrous clarion
+harmony. It moved many people to tears. The response was
+overwhelming. Something in that vast human pack went out to the
+singer like a tidal wave. Not the deafening fusilade of
+hand-clapping nor the shouted "Bravos!" It was something deeper,
+subtler. Tetrazzini stepped forward. Tears streamed from her eyes.
+She blew impulsive kisses to the crowd.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>The pageant of the months went on. A coal merchant by the name
+of Rolph had displaced P.H. McCarthy as Mayor of San Francisco. He
+had installed what was termed "a business administration." San
+Francisco seemed pleased with the result. Power of government had
+returned to the "North of Market Street."</p>
+<p>San Francisco had been selected by Congress as the site of the
+exposition. It was scheduled for 1915 and the Panama Canal
+approached completion.</p>
+<p>Frank was living with his father at the Press Club. His mother
+was dead. He had given up newspaper work, except for an occasional
+editorial. Through his father's influence he had found publication
+for a novel. He was something of a public man now, despite his
+comparative youth.</p>
+<p>Occasionally he saw his Uncle Robert. Two of his cousins had
+married. The third, an engineer, had gone to Colorado. Robert
+Windham and his wife were planning a year of travel.</p>
+<p>Sometimes Windham and his nephew talked of Bertha. It was a
+calmer, more dispassionate talk as time went on, for years blunt
+every pain. One day the former said, with tentative defiance, "I
+suppose you'll think there's something wrong about me, boy.... But
+I loved her mother deeply. Honestly--if one can call it that. If
+I'd had a certain kind of--well, immoral--courage, I'd have married
+her.... Just think how different all our lives would have been. But
+I hadn't the heart to hurt Maizie; to break with her ... nor the
+courage to give up my position in life. So we parted. I didn't know
+then--"</p>
+<p>"That you had a daughter?" questioned Frank. His uncle nodded.
+"Perhaps it would have made a difference ... perhaps not."</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>Aleta had a week's vacation. They were playing a comedy in which
+she had no part. So she had gone to Carmel to visit her friend
+Norah France.</p>
+<p>Frank decided to look in on them. He had been oddly shaken by
+the talk with his uncle. What tragedies men hid beneath the smooth
+exteriors of successful careers? He had always thought his uncle's
+home a happy one. Doubtless it was--happy enough. Love perhaps was
+not essential to successful unions. Frank wondered why he had not
+asked Aleta Boice to be his wife. They were good comrades, had
+congenial tastes. They would both be better off; less lonely. A
+sudden, long-forgotten feeling stirred within his heart. He had
+missed Aleta in the past few days. Why not go to her now; lay the
+question before her? Perhaps love might come to them both.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 35%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XCI"></a>CHAPTER XCI</h2>
+<h3>CONCLUSION</h3>
+<br>
+<p>For years thereafter Frank was haunted by the wraiths of vain
+conjecture--morbid questionings of what might have occurred if he
+had caught the train for Monterey that afternoon. For he was not to
+seek Aleta at Carmel. An official of the Exposition Company met
+Frank on the street. They talked a shade too long. Frank missed the
+train by half a minute. He shrugged his shoulders petulantly, found
+his father at the club. That evening they attended a comedy.</p>
+<p>He was not yet out of bed when the office telephoned him the
+next morning. "Didn't he know Norah France rather well?" the City
+Editor inquired. Frank admitted it sleepily.</p>
+<p>Had he a picture of her?</p>
+<p>Frank denied this. No. He didn't know where one might be
+obtained. Had Norah printed a poem or something? W-h-a-a-t!</p>
+<p>The voice at the telephone repeated its message. "Norah France
+was found dead in her room at Carmel this morning. Suicide
+probably. Empty vial and a letter.... The Carmel authorities
+haven't come through yet."</p>
+<p>Frank began to dress hurriedly. Again the telephone rang. Wire
+for him. Should they send it up? No, he would be down in a
+minute.</p>
+<p>The telegram was from Aleta. It read: "Am returning noon train.
+See you at my apartment six P.M."</p>
+<p>Stanley did not see his father in the dining room. He gulped a
+cup of coffee and went down to the office. He had planned an
+editorial for today. But his mind was full of Norah France just
+now.</p>
+<p>Poor child! How she had loved life in her strangely vivid moods!
+And how she had brooded upon its injustice in her alternating
+tempers of depression! He remembered now Aleta's mention of a love
+affair that turned out badly. Aleta had gone down to hearten her
+friend from these dolors. And he recalled, with a desperate,
+tearing remorse, a casual-enough remark of Norah's: "You always
+cheer me up, Frank, when you come to see me."</p>
+<p>He recalled, as well, her comment, months before, that she would
+awake from her dream in one way or another. Well, she had fulfilled
+her promise. God grant, he thought passionately, that the awakening
+had been in a happier world.</p>
+<p>At six o'clock he went to Aleta's apartment. She had not yet
+arrived but presently she came. He saw that she had been crying.
+She could scarcely speak.</p>
+<p>"Frank, let us walk somewhere," she said. "I can't go upstairs;
+it's too full of memories. And I can't sit still. I've got to keep
+moving--fast."</p>
+<p>They strode off together, taking a favorite walk through the
+Presidio toward the Beach. From a hill-top they saw the Exposition
+buildings rising from what once had been a slough.</p>
+<p>Aleta paused and looked down.</p>
+<p>"It's easier to bear--up here," she spoke in an odd, weary
+monotone, as if she were thinking aloud. "This morning ... I think,
+if Norah had left anything in the bottle ... I'd have taken it,
+too."</p>
+<p>"Why did she do it?" Frank asked quickly.</p>
+<p>Aleta faced him. "Norah loved a man ... he wasn't worthy. She
+could see no hope. I wished, Frank, that you might have been there
+yesterday. You used to cheer her so!"</p>
+<p>"Don't!" he cried out sharply.</p>
+<p>The Exposition progressed marvelously. Often Frank and Aleta
+climbed the winding Presidio ascent and gazed upon its growing
+wonders.</p>
+<p>"Beauty will come out of it all," she said one day. "Out of our
+travail and sorrow and sin. I wish that Norah was here. She loved
+beauty so!"</p>
+<p>"Perhaps she is here.... Who knows?"</p>
+<p>She looked at him startled. He was staring off across the
+Exposition site, toward the Golden Gate, where a great ship, all
+its sails spread, swam mysteriously luminous with the sunset.</p>
+<p>"It's beautiful," he said, a catch in his voice. "It's like life
+... coming home in the end ... after long strivings with tempest
+and wave. I wonder--" he turned to her slowly, "Aleta, will it be
+like that with us?"</p>
+<p>"Home!" she spoke the word tenderly. "I wonder what it's like
+... I've never known."</p>
+<p>He drew his breath sharply. "Aleta--will you marry me?"</p>
+<p>Her eyes filled but she did not answer. Presently she shook her
+head.</p>
+<p>He looked at her dumbly, questioning. "You don't love me,
+Frank," she said at last.</p>
+<p>He could not answer her. His eyes were on the ground. A hundred
+thoughts came to his mind; thoughts of an almost overwhelming
+tenderness; thoughts of reverence for her; of affection,
+comradeship. But they were not the right thoughts. They were not
+what she wanted.</p>
+<p>Presently they turned and went toward the town together.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>A Fairyland of gardens and lagoons sprung into existence. Great
+artists labored with a kind of beauty-madness in its making. Nine
+years after San Francisco lay in ashes its doors opened to the
+world. From Ruins had grown a Great Dream, one so beautiful and
+strong, it seemed unreal.</p>
+<p>Aleta and Frank went often. To them the Exposition was a
+rhapsody of silent music and they seldom broke its harmonies with
+speech.</p>
+<p>Frank had not recurred to the question he had asked on Presidio
+Hill. But out of it had come an unspoken compact, a comradeship of
+spirit that was very sweet.</p>
+<p>They stood one day on the margin of Fine Arts Lagoon, gazing
+down at the marvelous reflections of the great dome and its
+pillared colonnade. "Frank," the girl said almost in a whisper, "I
+believe that Love is God's heart, beating, beating ... through the
+Whole of Life." He turned and saw that her eyes were radiant. "And
+I think that when we feel its rhythm in us, it's like a call. A
+call to--"</p>
+<p>"What?" he asked abashed.</p>
+<p>"Service.... Frank," she faced him questioningly, half fearful.
+"You'll forgive me, won't you? I--I'm going away."</p>
+<p>She expected protest, exclamation. Instead he asked her, very
+quietly: "To Europe, Aleta? The Red Cross?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," she said, surprised. "How did you know?"</p>
+<p>"I--I'm going, myself. As a stretcher bearer."</p>
+<p>"Then--" her eyes were stars, "you've felt it, too?"</p>
+<p>He nodded.</p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;">
+<p>On the deck of an outbound steamer stood two figures. The sky
+was gray. Drifts of fog hung plume-like over Alcatraz, veiled the
+Exposition domes and turrets in a mystic glory. Sometimes it was
+like a great white nothingness; then, as if by magic, Color, Forms
+and Beauty leaped forth like some startling vision from a Land of
+Make Believe.</p>
+<p>The woman at the stern-rail stretched forth her arms. "Goodbye,"
+her words were like a song, a song of heartbreak, mixed with
+exultation. "Goodbye, Oh my City of Dreams!"</p>
+<p>"We will come back," said the man shakily. "We will come with
+new peace in our hearts."</p>
+<p>"Perhaps," she replied, "but it will not matter. San Francisco
+will go on, big, generous, unafraid in its sins and virtues. Oh,
+Frank, I love it, don't you? I want it to be the greatest city in
+the world!"</p>
+<p>He made no answer but he caught her hand and pressed it. The fog
+came down about them like a mantle and shut them in.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr class="full" noshade>
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@@ -0,0 +1,14342 @@
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Port O' Gold, by Louis John Stellman
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Port O' Gold
+
+Author: Louis John Stellman
+
+Release Date: June 8, 2004  [eBook #12560]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: US-ASCII
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PORT O' GOLD***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Charlie Kirschner and the Project Gutenberg Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 12560-h.htm or 12560-h.zip:
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/5/6/12560/12560-h/12560-h.htm)
+      or
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/5/6/12560/12560-h.zip)
+
+
+
+
+
+PORT O' GOLD
+
+A History-Romance of the San Francisco Argonauts
+
+LOUIS J. STELLMAN
+
+1922
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: As they looked the sunlight triumphed, scattering
+the fog into queer floating shapes, luminous and fraught with weird
+suggestions.... One might have thought a splendid city lay before
+them, ... impalpable, yet triumphant, with its hint of destiny.]
+
+
+
+
+
+     TO THE CITY OF MY ADOPTION AND REBIRTH
+                  SAN FRANCISCO
+
+     Oft from my window have I seen the day
+     Break o'er thy roofs and towers like a dream
+     In mystic silver, mirrored by the Bay,
+     Bedecked with shadow craft ... and then a gleam
+     Of golden sunlight cleaving swiftly sure
+     Some narrow cloud-rift--limning hill or plain
+     With flecks of gypsy-radiance that endure
+     But for the moment and are gone again.
+
+     Then I have ventured on thy strident streets,
+     Mid whir of traffic in the vibrant hour
+     When Commerce with its clashing cymbal greets
+     The mighty Mammon in his pomp of power....
+     And in the quiet dusk of eventide,
+     As wearied toilers quit the marts of Trade,
+     Have I been of their pageant--or allied
+     With Passion's revel in the Night Parade.
+
+     Oh, I have known thee in a thousand moods
+     And lived a thousand lives within thy bounds;
+     Adventured with the throng that laughs or broods,
+     Trod all thy cloisters and thy pleasure grounds,
+     Seen thee, in travail from the fiery torch,
+     Betrayed by Greed, smirched by thy sons' disgrace--
+     Rise with a spirit that no flame can scorch
+     To make thyself a new and honored place.
+
+     Ah, Good Gray City! Let me sing thy song
+     Of western splendor, vigorous and bold;
+     In vice or virtue unashamed and strong--
+     Stormy of mien but with a heart of gold!
+     I love thee, San Francisco; I am proud
+     Of all thy scars and trophies, praise or blame
+     And from thy wind-swept hills I cry aloud
+     The everlasting glory of thy name.
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+This is the story of San Francisco. When a newspaper editor summoned me
+from the mountains to write a serial he said:
+
+"I've sent for you because I believe you love this city more than any
+other writer of my acquaintance or knowledge. And I believe the true
+story of San Francisco will make a more dramatic, vivid, human narrative
+than any fiction I've ever read.
+
+"Take all the time you want. Get everything straight, and _put all
+you've got into this story_. I'm going to wake up the town with it."
+
+To the best of my ability, I followed the editor's instructions. He
+declared himself satisfied. The public responded generously. The serial
+was a success.
+
+But, ah! I wish I might have written it much better ... or that Robert
+Louis Stevenson, for instance, might have done it in my stead.
+
+"Port O' Gold" is history with a fiction thread to string its episodes
+upon. Most of the characters are men and women who have lived and played
+their parts exactly as described herein. The background and chronology
+are as accurate as extensive and painstaking research can make them.
+
+People have informed me that my fictional characters, vide Benito, "took
+hold of them" more than the "real ones" ... which is natural enough,
+perhaps, since they are my own brain-children, while the others are
+merely adopted. Nor is this anything to be deplored. The writer, after
+all, is first an entertainer. Indirectly he may edify, inform or teach.
+My only claim is that I've tried to tell the story of the city that I
+love as truly and attractively as I was able. My only hope is that I
+have been worthy of the task.
+
+Valuable aid in the accumulation of historical data for this volume was
+given by:
+
+Robert Rea, librarian, San Francisco Public Library;
+
+Mary A. Byrne, manager Reference Department, San Francisco Public
+Library;
+
+John Howell and John J. Newbegin, booksellers and collectors of
+Californiana, for whose cheerful interest and many courtesies the author
+is sincerely grateful.
+
+THE AUTHOR.
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+       I Yerba Buena.
+      II The Gambled Patrimony.
+     III The Gringo Ships.
+      IV American Occupation.
+       V An Offer and a Threat.
+      VI The First Election.
+     VII The Rancheros Revolt.
+    VIII McTurpin's Coup.
+      IX The Elopement.
+       X Hull "Capitulates".
+      XI San Francisco is Named.
+     XII The New York Volunteers.
+    XIII The "Sydney Ducks".
+     XIV The Auction on the Beach.
+      XV The Beginning of Law.
+     XVI Gold! Gold! Gold!
+    XVII The Quest of Fortune.
+   XVIII News of Benito.
+     XIX The Veiled Woman.
+      XX A Call in the Night.
+     XXI Outfacing the Enemy.
+    XXII Shots in the Dark.
+   XXIII The New Arrival.
+    XXIV The Chaos of '49.
+     XXV Retrieving a Birthright.
+    XXVI Fire! Fire! Fire!
+   XXVII Politics and a Warning.
+  XXVIII On the Trail of McTurpin.
+    XXIX The Squatter Conspiracy.
+     XXX "Growing Pains".
+    XXXI The Vigilance Committee.
+   XXXII The People's Jury.
+  XXXIII The Reckoning.
+   XXXIV The Hanging of Jenkins.
+    XXXV The People and the Law.
+   XXXVI Fevers of Finance.
+  XXXVII "Give Us Our Savings".
+ XXXVIII King Starts the Bulletin.
+   XXXIX Richardson and Cora.
+      XL The Storm Gathers.
+     XLI The Fateful Encounter.
+    XLII The Committee Organizes.
+   XLIII Governor Johnson Mediates.
+    XLIV The Truce is Broken.
+     XLV The Committee Strikes.
+    XLVI Retribution.
+   XLVII Hints of Civil War.
+  XLVIII Sherman Resigns.
+    XLIX Terry Stabs Hopkins.
+       L The Committee Disbands.
+      LI Senator Broderick.
+     LII A Trip to Chinatown.
+    LIII Enter Po Lun.
+     LIV The "Field of Honor".
+      LV The Southern Plot.
+     LVI Some War Reactions.
+    LVII Waters Pays the Price.
+   LVIII McTurpin Turns Informer.
+     LIX The Comstock Furore.
+      LX The Shattered Bubble.
+     LXI Desperate Finance.
+    LXII Adolph Sutro's Tunnel.
+   LXIII Lees Solves a Mystery.
+    LXIV An Idol Topples.
+     LXV Industrial Unrest.
+    LXVI The Pick-Handle Parade.
+   LXVII Dennis Kearney.
+  LXVIII The Woman Reporter.
+    LXIX A New Generation.
+     LXX Robert and Maizie.
+    LXXI The Blind Boss.
+   LXXII Fate Takes a Hand.
+  LXXIII The Return.
+   LXXIV The "Reformer".
+    LXXV A Nocturnal Adventure.
+   LXXVI Politics and Romance.
+  LXXVII Aleta's Problem.
+ LXXVIII The Fateful Morn.
+   LXXIX The Turmoil.
+    LXXX Aftermath.
+   LXXXI Readjustment.
+  LXXXII At Bay.
+ LXXXIII In the Toils.
+  LXXXIV The Net Closes.
+   LXXXV The Seven Plagues.
+  LXXXVI A New City Government.
+ LXXXVII Norah Finds Out.
+LXXXVIII The Shooting of Heney.
+  LXXXIX Defeat of the Prosecution.
+      XC The Measure of Redemption.
+     XCI Conclusion.
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+As they looked, the sunlight triumphed, scattering the fog into queer,
+floating shapes, luminous and fraught with weird suggestions.... One
+might have thought a splendid city lay before them, ... impalpable, yet
+triumphant, with its hint of destiny.
+
+"Ah, Senor," Inez' smile had faded, ... "they have cause for hatred".
+
+Men with shovels, leveling the sand-hills, piled the wagons high with
+shimmering grains which were ... dumped into pile-surrounded bogs. San
+Francisco reached farther and farther out into the bay.
+
+Samuel Brannan rode through the streets, holding a pint flask of
+gold-dust in one hand ... and whooping like a madman: "Gold! Gold! Gold!
+From the American River".
+
+Passersby who laughed at the inscription witnessed simultaneously the
+rescue of an almost submerged donkey by means of an improvised derrick.
+
+Broderick's commanding figure was seen rushing hither and thither....
+"You and two others. Blow up or pull down that building," he indicated a
+sprawling, ramshackle structure.
+
+There sat the redoubtable captain, all the ... austerity of his West
+Point manner melted in the indignity of sneezes and wheezes.... "Money!
+God Almighty! Sherman, there's not a loose dollar in town".
+
+"Draw and defend yourself," he said loudly. He shut his eyes and a
+little puff of smoke seemed to spring from the end of his fingers,
+followed ... by a sharp report.
+
+In front of the building on a high platform, two men stood.... A
+half-suppressed roar went up from the throng.
+
+Terry, who had taken careful aim, now fired. Broderick staggered,
+recovered himself. Slowly he sank to one knee.
+
+The concourse broke into applause. Then it was hysteria, pandemonium.
+Fifty thousand knew their city was safe for Anti-Slavery.
+
+Half a thousand jobless workers, armed and reckless, marched toward the
+docks. They bore torches.... "A hell-bent crew," said Ellis.
+
+"My boy ... you're wasting your time as a reporter. Listen," he laid a
+hand upon Francisco's knee. "I've a job for you.... The new Mayor will
+need a secretary".
+
+"Perhaps I shall find me a man--big, strong, impressive--with a mind
+easily led.... Then I shall train him to be a leader.... I shall furnish
+the brain".
+
+"I am going South," Francisco told his son. "I cannot bear this".
+
+All at once he stepped forward.... Tears were streaming down his face.
+Then the judge's question, clearly heard, "What is your plea?" "Guilty!"
+Ruef returned.
+
+A HISTORY-ROMANCE OF THE SAN FRANCISCO ARGONAUTS
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE
+
+THE VISION
+
+"Blessed be the Saints. It is the Punta de Los Reyes." The speaker was a
+bearded man of middle years. A certain nobleness about him like an
+ermine garment of authority was purely of the spirit, for he was neither
+of imposing height nor of commanding presence. His clothing hung about
+him loosely and recent illness had drawn haggard lines upon his face.
+But his eyes flashed like an eagle's, and the hand which pointed
+northward, though it trembled, had the fine dramatic grace of one who
+leads in its imperious gesture. He swept from his head the once
+magnificent hat with its scarred velour and windtorn plume, bending one
+knee in a movement of silent reverence and thanksgiving. This was Gaspar
+de Portola, October 31,1769.
+
+Near him stood his aides. All of them were travel-stained, careworn with
+hardship and fatigue. Following their chieftain they uncovered and
+knelt. To one side and a little below the apex of a rocky promontory
+that contained the little group, Christian Indians, muleteers and
+soldados crossed themselves and looked up questioningly. In a dozen
+litters sick men tossed and moaned. A mule brayed raucously, startling
+flocks of wild geese to flight from nearby cliffs, a herd of deer on a
+mad stampede inland.
+
+Portola rose and swept the horizon with his half-fevered gaze. To the
+south lay the rugged shore line with its sea-corroded cliffs, indented
+at one point into a half-moon of glistening beach and sweeping on again
+into vanishing and reappearing shapes of mist.
+
+Far to the northwest a giant arm of land reached out into the water,
+high and stark and rocky; further on a group of white farallones lay in
+the tossing foam and over them great flocks of seabirds dipped and
+circled. Finally, along the coast to the northward, they descried those
+chalk cliffs which Francis Drake had aptly named New Albion, and still
+beyond, what seemed to be the mouth of an inlet.
+
+Dispute sprang up among them. Since July 14th they had been searching
+between this place and San Diego for the port of Monterey. "Perhaps this
+is the place," said Crespi, the priest, reluctantly. "Vizcaino may have
+been amiss when he located it in 37 degrees."
+
+"Yes," spoke Captain Fernando de Rivera, "these explorers are careless
+dogs. One seldom finds the places they map out so gaily. And what do
+they care who dies of the hunger or scurvy--drinking their flagons in
+Mexico or Madrid? A curse, say I, on the lot of them."
+
+Portola turned an irritated glance of disapproval on his henchmen. "What
+say you, my pathfinder?" he addressed Sergeant Jose Ortega, chief
+of Scouts.
+
+"That no one may be certain, your excellency," the scout-chief answered.
+"But," his eyes met those of his commander with a look of grim
+significance, "one may learn."
+
+Portola laid a hand almost affectionately on the other's leather-covered
+shoulder. Here was a man after his heart. Always he had been ahead of
+the van, selecting camp sites, clearing ways through impenetrable brush,
+fighting off hostile savages. Now, ill and hungry as he was, for rations
+had for several days been down to four tortillas per man, Ortega was
+ready to set forth again.
+
+"You had better rest, Saldado. You are far from well. Start to-morrow."
+
+Ortega shrugged. "Meanwhile they mutter," his eyes jerked to the
+indiscriminate company below.
+
+"When men march and have a motive, they forget their grievances. When
+they lie in camp the devil stalks about and puts mischief into their
+thought. I have been a soldier for fourteen years, your excellency."
+
+"And I for thirty," said the other dryly, but he smiled. "You are
+right, my sergeant. Go. And may your patron saint, the reverend father
+of Assisi, aid you."
+
+Ortega saluted and withdrew. "I will require three days with your
+excellency's grace," he said. Portola nodded and observed Ortega's sharp
+commands wheel a dozen mounted soldados into line. They galloped past
+him, their lances at salute and dashed with a clatter of hoofs into the
+valley below.
+
+Young Francisco Garvez spurred his big mare forward till he rode beside
+the sergeant. A tall, half-lanky lad he was with the eager prescience of
+youth, its dreams and something of its shyness hidden in the dark
+alertness of his mien.
+
+"Whither now, my sergeant?" he inquired with a trace of pertness as he
+laid a hand upon the other's pommel. "Do we search again for that
+elusive Monterey? Methinks Vizcaino dreamed it in his cups." He smiled,
+a flash of strong, white teeth relieving the half-weary relaxation of
+his features, and Ortega turning, answered him:
+
+"Perhaps the good St. Francis hid it from our eyes--that we might first
+discover this puerto christened in his honor. We have three days to
+reach the Punta de los Reyes, which Vizcaino named for the kings
+of Cologne."
+
+For a time the two rode on in silence. Then young Garvez muttered: "It
+is well for Portola that your soldados love you.... Else the expedition
+had not come thus far." The sergeant looked at his companion
+smolderingly, but he did not speak. He knew as well as anyone that the
+Governor's life was in danger; that conspiracy was in the air. And it
+was for this he had taken with him all the stronger malcontents. Yes,
+they loved him--whatever treachery might have brooded in their minds.
+His eyes kindled with the knowledge. He led them at a good pace forward
+over hill and dale, through rough and briery undergrowth, fording here
+and there a stream, spurring tired horses over spans of dragging sand
+until darkness made further progress impossible. But with the break of
+day he was on again after a scanty meal. Just at sunrise he led his
+party up to a commanding headland where he paused to rest. His winded
+mount and that of Garvez panted side by side upon the crest while his
+troopers, single file, picked their way up the narrow trail. Below them
+was the Bay of San Francisco guarded by the swirling narrows of the
+Golden Gate. And over the brown hilltops of the Contra Costa a great
+golden ball of sunlight battled with the lacy mists of dawn.
+
+It was a picture to impress one with its mystery and magnificence. The
+two men gazed upon it with an oddly blended sense of awe and exultation.
+And as they looked the sunlight triumphed, scattering the fog into queer
+floating shapes, luminous and fraught with weird suggestions of castle,
+dome, of turret, minaret and towering spire. One might have thought a
+splendid city lay before them in the barren cove of sand-dunes, a city
+impalpable, yet triumphant, with its hint of destiny; translucent silver
+and gold, shifting and amazing--gone in a flash as the sun's full
+radiance burst forth through the vapor-screen.
+
+"It was like a sign from Heaven!" Garvez breathed.
+
+Ortega crossed himself. The younger man went on, "Something like a voice
+within me seemed to say 'Here shall you find your home--you and your
+children and their children's children.'"
+
+Ortega looked down at the dawn-gold on the waters and the tree-ringed
+cove. Here and there small herds of deer drank from a stream or browsed
+upon the scant verdure of sandy meadows. In a distant grove a score of
+Indian tepees raised their cone shapes to the sky; lazy plumes of
+blue-white smoke curled upward. Canoes, rafts of tules, skillfully bound
+together, carried dark-skinned natives over wind-tossed waters, the ends
+of their double paddles flashing in the sun.
+
+"One may not know the ways of God." Ortega spoke a trifle bruskly. "What
+is plain to me is that we cannot journey farther. This estero cuts our
+path in two. And in three days we cannot circle it to reach the Contra
+Costa. We must return and make report to the commander."
+
+He wheeled and shouted a command to his troopers. The cavalcade rode
+south but young Francisco turning in the saddle cast a farewell glance
+toward the shining bay. "Port O' Gold!" he whispered raptly, "some day
+men shall know your fame around the world!"
+
+
+
+PORT O' GOLD
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+YERBA BUENA
+
+It was 1845. Three quarters of a century had passed since young
+Francisco Garvez, as he rode beside Portola's chief of Scouts, glimpsed
+the mystic vision of a city rising from the sandy shores of San
+Francisco Bay.
+
+Garvez, so tradition held, had taken for his spouse an Indian maiden
+educated by the mission padres of far San Diego. For his service as
+soldado of old Spain he had been granted many acres near the Mission of
+Dolores and his son, through marriage, had combined this with another
+large estate. There a second generation of the Garvez family had looked
+down from a palatial hacienda upon spreading grain-fields, wide-reaching
+pastures and corrals of blooded stock. They had seen the Mission era wax
+and wane and Mexico cast off the governmental shackles of Madrid. They
+had looked askance upon the coming of the "Gringo" and Francisco Garvez
+II, in the feebleness of age, had railed against the destiny that gave
+his youngest daughter to a Yankee engineer. He had bade her choose
+between allegiance to an honored race and exile with one whom he termed
+an unknown, alien interloper. But in the end he had forgiven, when she
+chose, as is the wont of women, Love's eternal path. Thus the Garvez
+rancho, at his death became the Windham ranch and there dwelt Dona Anita
+with her children Inez and Benito, for her husband, "Don Roberto"
+Windham lingered with an engineering expedition in the wilds of Oregon.
+
+Just nineteen was young Benito, straight and slim, combining in his
+fledgling soul the austere heritage of Anglo-Saxons with the leaping
+fires of Castile. Fondly, yet with something anxious in her glance, his
+mother watched the boy as he sprang nimbly to the saddle of his favorite
+horse. He was like her husband, strong and self-reliant. Yet,--she
+sighed involuntarily with the thought,--he had much of the manner of her
+handsome and ill-fated brother, Don Diego, victim of a duel that had
+followed cards and wine.
+
+"Why so troubled, madre mia?" The little hand of Inez stole into her
+mother's reassuringly. "Is it that you fear for our Benito when he rides
+among the Gringos of the puebla?"
+
+Her dark crowned and exquisite head rose proudly and her eyes flashed as
+she watched her brother riding with the grace of splendid horsemanship
+toward the distant town of Yerba Buena. "He can take care of himself,"
+she ended with, a toss of her head.
+
+"To be sure, my little one," the Dona Windham answered smiling. No doubt
+it was a foolish apprehension she decided. If only the Dona Briones who
+lived on a ranchita near the bay-shore did not gossip so of the
+Americano games of chance. And if only she might know what took Benito
+there so frequently.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Benito spurred his horse toward the puebla. A well-filled purse jingled
+in his pocket and now and then he tossed a silver coin to some
+importuning Indian along the road. As he passed the little ranch-house
+of Dona Briones he waved his hat gaily in answer to her invitation to
+stop. Benito called her Tia Juana. Large and motherly she was, a woman
+of untiring energy who, all alone cultivated the ranchito which supplied
+milk, butter, eggs and vegetables to ships which anchored in the cove of
+Yerba Buena. She was the friend of all sick and unfortunate beings, the
+secret ally of deserting sailors whom she often hid from searching
+parties. Benito was her special favorite and now she sighed and shook
+her head as he rode on. She had heard of his losses at the gringo game
+called "pokkere." She mistrusted it together with all other alien
+machinations.
+
+Benito reached the little hamlet dreaming in the sun, a welter of
+scrambled habitations. There was the little ship's cabin, called Kent
+Hall, where dwelt that genial spirit, Nathan Spear, his father's friend.
+Nearby was the dwelling, carpenter and blacksmith shop of Calvert Davis;
+the homes of Victor Pruden, French savant and secretary to Governor
+Alvarado; Thompson the hide trader who married Concepcion Avila,
+reigning beauty of her day; Stephen Smith, pioneer saw-miller, who
+brought the first pianos to California.
+
+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.
+
+"I've no authority," Spear answered shortly. He turned his back upon the
+other and strode toward the plaza.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE GAMBLED PATRIMONY
+
+The stranger took his way toward the waterfront and into "Jack the
+Sailor's." Cooper, who had earned this nickname, stood behind a counter
+of rough boards polishing its top with a much soiled towel. He hailed
+the newcomer eagerly. "Hello, Alvin Potts! What brought you here? And
+how is all at Monterey?"
+
+"All's well enough," said Potts, concisely. He glanced about. Several
+crude structures, scarcely deserving the name of tables, were centers of
+interest for rings of rough and ill-assorted men. There were
+loud-voiced, bearded fellows from the whaler's crew. In tarpaulins and
+caps pulled low upon their brows; swarthy Russians with oily, brutish
+faces and slow movements--relics of the abandoned colony at Fort Ross;
+suave, soft-spoken Spaniards in broad-brimmed hats, braided short coats
+and laced trousers tucked into shining boots; vaqueros with colored
+handkerchiefs about their heads and sashes around their middles. A few
+Americans were sprinkled here and there. Usually one player at each
+table was of the sleek and graceful type, which marks the gambler. And
+usually he was the winner. Now and then a man threw down his cards,
+pushed a little pile of money to the center of the table and shuffled
+out. Cooper passed between them, serving tall, black bottles from which
+men poured their potions according to impulse; they did not drink in
+unison. Each player snatched a liquid stimulus when the need arose. And
+one whose shaky nerves required many of these spurs was young Benito.
+
+Potts observed the pale face and the hectic, burning eyes with a
+frowning disapproval. Presently he drew John Cooper to one side.
+
+"He's no business here, that lad ... you know it, Jack," Potts said,
+accusingly. The saloon keeper threw wide his arms in a significant
+gesture.
+
+"He won't stay away ... I've told him half a dozen times. No one can
+reason with that headstrong fool."
+
+"Who's that he's playing with?" asked Potts. "I mean the dark one with a
+scar."
+
+An impressive and outstanding figure was the man Potts designated.
+Stocky, sinister of eye and with a mouth whose half-sardonic smile drew
+the lips a little out of line, he combed his thick black hair now and
+then with delicate, long-fingered hands. They had a deftness and a
+lightning energy, those fingers with their perfectly groomed nails,
+which boded little good to his opponents. He sat back calmly in strange
+contrast to the feverish uncontrol of other players. Now and then he
+flashed a swift glance round the circle of his fellow players. Before
+him was a heap of gold and silver. They watched him deal with the
+uncanny skill of a conjurer before Jack Cooper answered.
+
+"That's Aleck McTurpin from Australia. Thought you knew him."
+
+"One of the Sydney coves?"
+
+"Not quite so loud," the other cautioned hastily. "They call him
+that--behind his back. But who's to tell? I'd like to get the lad out of
+his clutches well enough."
+
+"Think I'll watch the game," Potts said, and sauntered to the table. He
+laid a friendly hand on Windham's shoulder. Benito's pile of coin was
+nearly gone. McTurpin dealt. It was a jack-pot, evidently, for a heavy
+stake of gold and silver was upon the center of the board. Benito's hand
+shook as he raised his cards. He reached forth and refilled his glass,
+gulping the contents avidly.
+
+"Dos cartos," he replied in Spanish to the dealer's inquiry. Potts
+glanced at the three cards which Benito had retained. Each was a king.
+
+The young man eyed his first draw with a slight frown and seemed to
+hesitate before he lifted up the second. Then a little sucking gasp came
+from his throat.
+
+"Senor," he began as McTurpin eyed him curiously, "I have little left to
+wager. Luck has been my enemy of late. Yet," he smiled a trembling
+little smile, "I hold certain cards which give me confidence. I should
+like to play a big stake--once, before I leave--"
+
+"How big?" asked McTurpin, coldly, but his eye was eager.
+
+The Spanish-American faced him straightly. "As big as you like, amigo
+... if you will accept my note."
+
+McTurpin's teeth shut with a click. "What security, young fellow?" he
+demanded.
+
+"My ranch," replied Benito. "It is worth, they say, ten thousand of your
+dollars."
+
+McTurpin covered his cards with his hands. "You want to lay me this
+ranch against--what?"
+
+"Five thousand dollars--that is fair enough," Benito answered. He was
+trembling with excitement. McTurpin watched him hawk-like, seeming to
+consider. "Bring us ink and paper, Jack," he called to Cooper, and when
+the latter had complied, he wrote some half a dozen lines upon a sheet.
+
+"Sign that. Get two witnesses ... you, Jack, and this fellow here," he
+indicated Potts imperiously. He laid his cards face down upon the table
+and extracted deftly from some inner pocket a thick roll of greenbacks.
+Slowly, almost meticulously, he counted them before the gaping tableful
+of players. Fifty hundred-dollar bills.
+
+"American greenbacks," he spoke crisply. "A side bet with our friend,
+the Senor Windham." He shoved the money toward the center of the table,
+slightly apart from the rest.
+
+Benito waveringly picked up the pen. It shook in his unsteady fingers.
+"Wait," Potts pleaded. But the young man brooked no intervention. With a
+flourish he affixed his signature. McTurpin picked up the pen as Benito
+dropped it. "Put your name on as a witness," he demanded of the host.
+"Jack the Sailor" shook his head. "I've no part in this," he said, and
+turned his back upon them. "Nor I," Potts answered to a similar
+invitation.
+
+McTurpin took the paper. "Well, it doesn't matter. You've all seen him
+sign it: You ... and you ... and you." His finger pointed to a trio of
+the nearest players, and their nods sufficed him, evidently. He weighted
+the contract with a gold-piece from his own plethoric pile.
+
+"Show down! Show down!" cried the others. Triumphantly Benito laid five
+cards upon the table. Four of them were kings. A little cry of
+satisfaction arose, for sympathy was with the younger player. McTurpin
+sat unmoved. Then he threw an ace upon the table. Followed it with a
+second. Then a third. And, amid wondering murmurs, a fourth.
+
+He reached out his hand for the stakes. Benito sat quite still. The
+victorious light had gone out of his eyes, but not a muscle moved. One
+might have thought him paralyzed or turned to stone by his misfortune.
+McTurpin's hand closed almost stealthily upon the paper. There was a
+smile of cool and calculating satisfaction on his thin lips as he drew
+the stake toward him.
+
+Then with an electrifying suddenness, Benito sprang upon him. "Cheat!"
+he screamed. "You fleeced me like a robber. I knew. I understood it when
+you looked at me like that."
+
+Quick as McTurpin was in parrying attack--for he had frequent need of
+such defense--the onslaught of Benito found him unprepared. He went over
+backward, the young man's fingers on his throat. From the overturned
+table money rattled to the floor and rolled into distant corners.
+Hastily the non-combatants sought a refuge from expected bullets. But
+no pistol barked. McTurpin's strength far overmatched that of the other.
+Instantly he was on his feet. Benito's second rush was countered by a
+blow upon the jaw. The boy fell heavily.
+
+McTurpin smoothed his ruffled plumage and picked up the scattered coins.
+"Take the young idiot home," he said across his shoulder, as he strode
+out. "Pour a little whisky down his throat. He isn't hurt."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE GRINGO SHIPS
+
+Government was but a name in Yerba Buena. A gringo engineer named
+Fremont with a rabble of adventurers had overthrown the valiant Vallejo
+at Sonora and declared a California Republic. He had spiked the cannon
+at the Presidio. And now a gringo sloop-of-war was in the bay, some said
+with orders to reduce the port. Almost simultaneously an English frigate
+came and there were rumors of a war between the Anglo-Saxon nations.
+
+The prefect, Don Rafael Pinto, had already joined the fleeing Governor
+Castro. Commandante Francisco Sanchez, having sent his soldiers to
+augment the Castro forces in the south, was without a garrison and had
+retired to his rancho.
+
+Nevertheless, had the Senora Windham, with her son and daughter, called
+upon Sub-prefect Guerrero in hope of justice. Her rancho was being taken
+from her. Already McTurpin had pre-empted a portion of the grant and
+only the armed opposition of the Windham vaqueros prevented an entire
+dispossession.
+
+Though Guerrero listened, courteous and punctilious, he had obviously no
+power to afford relief. He was a curiously nervous man of polished
+manners whose eyelids twitched at intervals with a sort of slow St.
+Vitus' dance.
+
+"What can I do, Senora?" with a blend of whimsicality and desperation.
+"I am an official without a staff. And Sanchez a commander stripped of
+his soldados." He stepped to the door with them and looked down upon the
+dancing, rippling waters of the bay, where two ships rode.
+
+"Let these gringos fight it out together. This McTurpin is an Inglese,
+I am told, from their far colony across the sea. If the Americanos
+triumph take your claim to them. If not, God save you, my senora.
+I cannot."
+
+Don Guillermo Richardson, the former harbormaster, came up the hill as
+Dona Anita emerged from the Alcalde's office. He was a friend of her
+husband--a gringo--but trusted by the Spanish Californians, many of whom
+he had befriended. To him Mrs. Windham turned half desperately,
+confessing in a rush of words her family's plight. "What is to become of
+us?" she questioned passionately. "Ah, that my Roberto were here! He
+would know how to deal with these desperadoes." She gestured angrily
+toward the sloop-of-war which rode at anchor in the Bay.
+
+"You have nothing to fear, my friend," returned Richardson with a trace
+of asperity. "Commodore Sloat is a gentleman. He is, I understand, to
+seize Monterey and raise the the American flag there tomorrow. Yet his
+instructions are that Californians are to be shown every courtesy."
+
+"And our rancho?" cried the boy. "Will the Americano Capitan restore it
+to us, think you, Don Guillermo?"
+
+"I know not," said the other sadly. "You should have thought of that
+before you gambled it away, my son."
+
+Benito hung his head. Richardson passed on and the trio made their way
+toward the beach. There they found Nathan Spear in excited converse with
+John Cooper and William Leidesdorff.
+
+They were discussing the probability of an occupation by the American
+marines. "If they come ashore," said Leidesdorff, "I'll invite them to
+my new house. There's plenty of rum for all, and we'll drink a toast to
+Fremont and the California Republic as well."
+
+"Hurrah! Hurrah!" came a cheer from several bystanders.
+
+"I invite you all," cried Leidesdorff, waving his hands and almost
+dancing in his eagerness. "Every man-jack of you in all Yerba Buena."
+
+"How about the ladies, Leidesdorff?" called out a sailor.
+
+"Ah, forgive me, Senora, Senorita!" cried the Dane remorsefully. He
+swept off his wide-brimmed hat with an effort, for he had a fashion of
+jamming it very tightly upon his head. He laid a hand enthusiastically
+upon the shoulders of both Spear and Cooper. "It grows better and
+better. Tomorrow, if the Captain is willing," he jerked his head toward
+the Portsmouth, "tomorrow evening we shall have a grand ball. It shall
+celebrate the day of independence."
+
+"But tomorrow is the eighth of July," said Cooper.
+
+"What matter?" Leidesdorff exclaimed, now thoroughly enthusiastic. "It's
+the spirit of the thing that counts, my friends."
+
+A crowd was assembling. Mrs. Windham and her daughter drew instinctively
+aside. Benito stood between them and the growing throng as if to shield
+them from a battery of curious glances.
+
+"Will the ladies accept?" asked Leidesdorff with another exaggerated
+salute.
+
+Senora Windham, haughty and aloof, had framed a stiff refusal, but her
+daughter caught her hand. "Do not antagonize them, mother," she said in
+an undertone. "Let us meet this Gringo Commandante of the ship.
+Perhaps," she smiled archly, "it is not beyond the possibilities I may
+persuade him into giving aid."
+
+The elder woman hesitated, glanced inquiringly at Nathan Spear who stood
+beside them. He nodded. "The ladies will be pleased," he answered in
+their stead. Another cheer met this announcement.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+AMERICAN OCCUPATION
+
+Yerba Buena awoke to the sunrise of July 8, 1846, with a spirit of
+festive anticipation and a certain relief.
+
+Today the American sloop-of-war would land its sailors and marines to
+take possession of the port. Today the last remaining vestige of the
+Latin's dominance would end. A strange flag, curiously gay with stripes
+and stars, would fly above the customs house; strange men in uniforms of
+blue, and golden braid, would occupy the seats of power. Even the name
+of Yerba Buena would be altered, it was said. New Boston probably would
+be its title.
+
+Early morning brought ox-carts laden with gay, curious Spanish ladies
+from surrounding ranches, piquant eager senoritas with vivacious
+gestures of small hands and fluttering fans; senoras plump and placid,
+slower in their movements and with brooding eyes. They wore their
+laciest mantillas, silkiest gowns and daintiest footwear to impress the
+alien invader. And, beside their equipages, like outriders in the
+cortege of a queen, caballeros and vaqueros sat their caracoling steeds.
+
+Sailors from the trade and whaling ships, trappers, hunters and the
+motley populace of Yerba Buena made a colorful and strangely varied
+picture, as they gathered with the rancheros about the Plaza.
+
+At 8 o'clock four boats descended simultaneously from the Portsmouth's
+sides. They were greeted by loud cheers from the Americans on shore and
+watched with excited interest by the others. The boats landed their
+crews near the spring where a sort of wharf had been constructed. They
+returned for more and finally assembled seventy marines, a smaller
+number of sailors and the ship's band. Captain Montgomery, in the full
+dress uniform of a naval commander, reviewed his forces. Beside him
+stood Lieutenant John S. Misroon, large, correct and rather awkward,
+with long, restless arms; a youthful, rosy complexion and serious blue
+eyes. Further back, assembling his marines in marching order, was
+Lieutenant Henry Watson, a smaller man of extraordinary nervous energy.
+Montgomery gave the marching order. Fife and drum struck up a lively air
+and to its strains the feet of Yerba Buena's first invading army kept
+uncertain step as sailors and marines toiled through the sand. Half a
+thousand feet above them stood the quaint adobe customs house, its
+red-tiled roof and drab adobe walls contrasting pleasantly with the
+surrounding greenery of terraced hills. Below it lay the Plaza with its
+flagpole, its hitching racks for horses and oxen.
+
+Here the commander halted his men. "Lieutenant Watson," he addressed the
+senior subaltern, "be so good as to request attendance by the prefect or
+alcalde.... And for heaven's sake, fasten your coat, sir," he added in a
+whispered aside.
+
+Saluting with one hand, fumbling at his buttons with the other, Watson
+marched into the customs house, while the populace waited agape; but he
+returned very soon to report that the building was untenanted. Captain
+Montgomery frowned. He had counted on the pomp and punctilio of a formal
+surrender--a spectacular bit of history that would fashion gallant words
+for a report. "Haul down the flag of Mexico," he said to Lieutenant
+Misroon. "Run up the Stars and Stripes!"
+
+Lieutenant Misroon gazed aloft, then down again, embarrassed. "There is
+no flag, sir," he responded, and Montgomery verified his statement with
+a frowning glance. "Where the devil is it, then?" he asked explosively.
+
+A frightened clerk appeared now at the doorway of the custom house. He
+bowed and scraped before the irate commander. "Pardon, Senor
+Commandante," he said, quaveringly, "the flag of Mexico reposes in a
+trunk with the official papers of the port. I, myself, have seen the
+receiver of customs, Don Rafael Pinto, place it there."
+
+"And where is Don Rafael?"
+
+"Some days ago he joined the Castro forces in the South, Senor."
+
+"Well, well!" Montgomery's tone was sharp; "there must be someone in
+command. Who is he?"
+
+"The Sub-Prefect has ridden to his rancho, Commandante."
+
+"That disposes of the civil authorities," Montgomery reflected, "since
+Port-Captain Ridley is in jail with Fremont's captives." He turned to
+the clerk again. "Is there not a garrison at the Presidio?"
+
+"They have joined the noble Castro," sighed the clerk, recovering his
+equanimity. "There is only the commander Sanchez, Senor. He is also at
+his rancho."
+
+Despite his irritation, Captain Montgomery could not miss the humor of
+the situation. A dry chuckle escaped him. "Run up the flag," he said to
+Lieutenant Misroon, and the latter hastened to comply. An instant later
+the starry banner floated high above their heads. A cheer broke out.
+Hats flew into the air and from the ship's band came the stirring
+strains of America's national air. Then, deep and thunderous, a gun
+spoke on the Portsmouth. Another and another.
+
+Captain Montgomery, stiff and dignified, lifted his hand and amid an
+impressive silence read the proclamation of Commodore Sloat, in which
+all citizens of captured ports were assured of fair and friendly
+treatment and invited to become subjects of the United States. He
+suggested the immediate formation of a town militia. Leidesdorff came
+bustling forward.
+
+"My house is at your service, gentlemen," he said. "And tonight," he
+removed his hat and bowed toward the ladies, "tonight I bid you all to
+be my guests and give our new friends welcome." He saluted Montgomery
+and his aids, who, somewhat nonplussed, returned the greeting.
+
+Nathan Spear elbowed his way to the commander's side. With him came
+Senora Windham and the smiling Senorita Inez. Benito lingered rather
+diffidently in the background with a group of Spanish Californians, but
+was finally induced to bring them forward. There were general
+handshakings. Many other rancheros, now that the ice was broken, brought
+their wives and daughters for an introduction to the gringo commandante,
+and Montgomery, his good humor restored, kissed many a fair hand in
+response to a languishing smile. It seemed a happy and a friendly
+seizure. Inez said, eyes a-sparkle, "We shall see you at the ball this
+evening, Senor Commandante."
+
+"I shall claim the first dance, Senorita," said the sailor, bowing low.
+Her heart leaped as they left him, and she squeezed her brother's arm.
+"He is a kindly man, Benito mio. I shall tell him of this
+interloper--this McTurpin. Have no fear."
+
+Benito smiled a little dubiously. He had less faith than Inez in the
+future government of the Americans.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+AN OFFER AND A THREAT
+
+Aleck McTurpin, tired but exhilarated, rode toward the Windham rancho on
+the morning after Leidesdorff's ball. He had made a night of it and he
+was in high fettle. The Senorita Windham had granted him a dance despite
+her brother's scowling disapproval. Out of the charm of that brief
+association there had come into the gambler's mind a daring plan. To the
+Senorita Inez he had spoken of his claim upon the Windham rancho through
+her brother's note won on the gambling table. He had touched the matter
+very gently, for McTurpin knew the ways of women and was not without
+engaging qualities when they stood him in good stead.
+
+Now he rode toward a tryst with Inez Windham and his heart leaped at the
+prospect of another sight of her; within him like a heady wine there was
+the memory of her sparkling eyes, the roguish, mischievous, half-pouting
+mouth. The consciousness of something finer than his life had known
+aroused in him strange devotional impulses, unfamiliar yearnings.
+
+He and the Senorita were to meet and plan a settlement of McTurpin's
+claim against the rancho. He had asked her to come alone, and, after a
+swift look, half fearful, half desperate, she consented. It was an
+unheard-of thing in Spanish etiquette. But he believed she would fulfill
+the bargain. And if she did, he asked himself, what should he say--or
+do? For, perhaps, the first time in his life McTurpin was uncertain.
+
+Suddenly the road turned and he came upon her. She stood beside her
+horse, the morning sunlight in her wondrous dark hair. The ride had
+brought fresh color to her face and sparkle to her eyes. McTurpin caught
+his breath before the wonder and beauty of her. Then he sprang from his
+horse and bowed low. The Senorita Inez nodded almost curtly.
+
+"I have little time, Senor," she said, uneasily. "You are late. I may be
+missed." Her smile was all the more alluring for its hint of panic. "Can
+we not come to the point at once? I have here certain jewels which will
+pay a portion of the debt." She unclasped from her throat a necklace of
+pearls he had noted at the ball. She held them out toward him. "And here
+is a ring. Have you brought the paper?"
+
+McTurpin held up a protesting hand. "You wrong me, Senorita," he
+declared. "I am a gambler. Yes ... I take my chance with men and win or
+lose according to the Fates. But I have yet to rob a woman of her
+trinkets."
+
+"It is no robbery," she demurred, hastily. "Take them, I beseech you,
+and return the note. If it is not enough, we will pay more ... later ...
+from the proceeds of the ranch."
+
+"Senorita," said McTurpin eagerly, "let us compromise this matter more
+adroitly. Should I make no further claim upon your ranch than that which
+I possess, why may we not be neighbors--friends?"
+
+She tried to protest, but he rushed on, giving her no opportunity.
+"Senorita, I am not a man devoid of culture. I am not a sailor or a
+trapper like those ruffians below. Nor a keeper of shops. Senorita, I
+will give up gambling and become a ranchero. If--" he stammered,
+"If I--"
+
+Inez Windham took a backward step. Her breath came sharply. In this
+man's absurd confusion there was written plainer than his uncompleted
+words could phrase it, what he meant.
+
+"No, no," her little hands went out as if to ward off some repulsive
+thing. "Senor--that is quite impossible."
+
+McTurpin saw the look of horror, of aversion. He felt as though someone
+had struck him in the face. There was a little silence. Then he
+laughed, shortly.
+
+"Impossible?" the tone was cutting. "We shall see.... This is now a
+white man's country. I have offered to divide the rancho. What if I
+should take it all? Where would you go? You, the proud Senora and the
+shiftless young Benito?"
+
+The Senorita Inez' lips curled. "When my father comes he will know how
+to answer you," she told him, hotly.
+
+"If he were alive he would have come long since," McTurpin answered.
+"Many perish on the northern trails." He took a step toward her. "Do you
+know that this morning 200 more Americans arrived on the ship Brooklyn?
+They are armed and there is talk of 'running out the greasers.' Do you
+know what that means? It were well to have a friend at court, my
+little lady."
+
+"Go!" the girl blazed at him. "Go, and quickly--liar that you are. My
+brother and his vaqueros will know how to protect my mother and me." She
+sprang upon her horse and galloped toward the rancho. McTurpin, red and
+angry, watched her disappearing in a whirl of dust.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Look, my brother! He has spoken truly." Inez and Benito had ridden to
+the pueblo for a confirmation of McTurpin's words. They hitched their
+horses at the rack in Portsmouth Square and walked down toward the
+landing place. A large ship lay in the offing. Between her and the shore
+many small boats laden with passengers and varied cargoes plied to
+and fro.
+
+Inez, as they descended, noted many women clad in the exaggerated
+hoopskirts, the curious, short, gathered bodices and the low hats of the
+early forties. She thought this apparel oddly ugly, though the faces
+were not unattractive. They stood in knots, these women, some of them
+gazing rather helplessly about. The younger ones were surrounded by
+groups of admirers with whom they were chatting animatedly. There were
+also many children capering in the sand and pointing out to one another
+the strange sights of this new place. The men--hundreds of them it
+seemed to Inez--were busied with constructive tasks. Already there were
+many temporary habitations, mostly tents of varied shapes and sizes.
+Bonfires blazed here and there. Stands of arms in ordered, regular
+stacks, gave the scene a martial air. Piles of bed-clothing, household
+effects, agricultural implements, lay upon the sand. A curious
+instrument having a large wheel on one side caught the girl's attention.
+Near it were square, shallow boxes. A pale, broad-shouldered man with
+handsome regular features and brooding, poetic eyes stood beside the
+machine, turning the wheel now and then, and examining the boxes. He
+seemed to be a leader, for many people came to ask him questions which
+he answered with decision and authority.
+
+"Who is that?" asked Inez of Nathan Spear and Leidesdorff as the two
+approached. "And what is the strange contrivance upon which he has
+his hand?"
+
+"It is a printing press," Spear answered. "Yerba Buena is soon to have a
+paper for the chronicling of its metropolitan affairs. The man? Oh,
+that's Sam Brannan, the elder of this band of Mormons."
+
+"Is it true that they have come to drive us from our homes?" asked Inez
+fearfully.
+
+"Who, the Mormons? Lord forbid," retorted Spear. He beckoned to the
+elder, who approached and was presented. Inez, as she looked into his
+kindly eyes, forgot her fears. Brannan eagerly explained his printing
+press. She left him feeling that he was less enemy than friend.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE FIRST ELECTION
+
+Captain John J. Vioget's house was the busiest place in Yerba Buena, and
+John Henry Brown its most important personage. The old frame dwelling
+built by a Swiss sailor in 1840 had become in turn a billiard hall and
+groggery, a sort of sailors' lodging house and a hotel. Now it was the
+scene of Yerba Buena's first election. About a large table sat the
+election inspectors guarding the ballot box, fashioned hastily from an
+empty jar of lemon syrup. Robert Ridley, recently released from Sutter's
+Fort, where he had been imprisoned by the Bear Flag party, was a
+candidate for office as alcalde. He opposed Lieutenant Washington
+Bartlett, appointed to officiate pro tem by Captain Montgomery. Brown
+was busy with his spirituous dispensing. It was made a rule, upon
+Brannan's advice, that none should be served until he had voted.
+
+Brown kept shouting: "Ship-shape, gents, and reg'lar; that's the word.
+Place your vote and then you drinks.... Gord bless yer merry hearts."
+
+Thus he harangued them into order and coaxed many a Russian, Spanish,
+English and American coin across his bar. Suddenly he looked into the
+eyes of Aleck McTurpin.
+
+"Give me a brandy sling," the gambler ordered. He was in a rough mood,
+which ensues from heavy and continued drinking.
+
+"Have ye voted, Aleck?" Brown inquired.
+
+"I vote when I please," McTurpin answered sullenly, "and I drink when it
+suits me." He took from an inner pocket of his coat a derringer with
+silver mountings, laid it meaningly upon the bar. "I ordered a
+brandy sling."
+
+Brown paled, but his eye did not waver. Almost casually, he spoke. "Stop
+your jokin', Aleck. Rules is rules."
+
+McTurpin's fingers closed about the pistol. His eyes were venomous.
+
+Then Benito Windham entered. Just inside the door he paused,
+uncertainly. "I have come to vote for Senor Bartlett as Alcalde,"
+he declared.
+
+A laugh greeted him. "You should not announce your choice," said
+Inspector Ward severely. "The ballot is supposedly secret."
+
+McTurpin turned, his quarrel with Brown instantly forgotten. "Throw the
+little greaser out," he spoke with slow distinctness. "This is a white
+man's show."
+
+There was a startled silence. "He's drunk," Brown told them soothingly.
+"Aleck's drunk. Don't listen to him."
+
+"Drunk or not, I back my words." He waved the weapon threateningly. "Sit
+down there," he ordered Windham. "If you want to vote you'll vote for a
+gentleman. Write Bob Ridley's name on your ballot, or, by God! I'll fix
+you." Benito, as if hypnotized, took a seat at the table and dipped his
+quill in the ink. The others stirred uneasily, but made no move. There
+was a moment of foreboding silence. Then a hearty voice said from the
+door: "What's the matter, gentlemen?"
+
+No one answered. McTurpin, the pistol in his hand, still stood above
+Benito. The latter's fingers held the quill suspended. A drop of ink
+fell on the ballot slip unnoted. Brannan, with a puzzled frown, came
+forward, laid a hand upon the gambler's shoulder.
+
+"What's the matter here?" he asked more sharply.
+
+McTurpin turned upon him fiercely. "Go to hell!" he cried. "I'm running
+this."
+
+Brannan's voice was quiet. "Put the pistol down!" he ordered.
+Deliberately McTurpin raised his weapon. "Damn you--" But he got no
+farther. Brannan's fist struck fairly on the chin. One could hear the
+impact of it like a hammer blow. There was a shot, a bullet spent
+against the rafters overhead. McTurpin sprawling on the
+sawdust-covered floor.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On Windham rancho the Senora Windham waited with a faith that knew no
+end for the coming of her husband. There had been vague reports from
+vaguer sources that he had been captured by the northern savages. Inez
+and Benito were forever at her side--save when the boy rode into town to
+cull news from arriving sailors. The Spanish rancheros had all withdrawn
+to the seclusion of their holdings and were on the verge of war against
+the new authorities of Yerba Buena.
+
+Washington Bartlett, recently elected Alcalde, had abused his office by
+repeated confiscations of fine horses from the camponeras of
+Spanish-Californians, seizing them by requisition of military authority
+and giving orders on the government in exchange. This the Spaniards had
+borne in silence. But abuses had become so flagrant as to pass
+all bounds.
+
+"We must arm and drive these robbers from our California," said Benito
+passionately. "Sanchez has, in secret, organized one hundred caballeros.
+Only wait. The day comes when we strike!"
+
+"Benito," said his mother, sadly, "there has been enough of war. We
+cannot struggle with these Yankees. They are strong and numerous. We
+must keep the peace and suffer until your father comes."
+
+"There is to be a grand ball at the casa of the Senor Leidesdorff," said
+Inez. "El Grande Commandante of the Yankee squadron comes amid great
+ceremony. I will gain his ear. Perchance he will undo the wrongs of this
+Bartlett, the despoiler."
+
+"Inez mia," said her brother, "do not go. No good will come of it. For
+they are all alike, these foreigners."
+
+"Ah!" she cried, reproachfully, "you say that of the Senor Brannan? Or
+of Don Nathan?"
+
+"They are good men," Benito answered, grudgingly. "Have it as you will."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Yerba Buena did honor to Commodore Stockton under Leidesdorff's
+ever-hospitable roof. Hundreds of candles burned in sconces and
+chandeliers, festoons of bunting and greenery gave the big room a
+carnival air; Indian servitors flitted silently about with trays of
+refreshments, and the gold lace and braid of America's navy mingled
+picturesquely with the almost spectacular garb of stately Spanish
+caballeros. The commodore, though undersized, was soldierly and very
+brisk of manner. Stockton seemed to Inez a gallant figure. While she
+danced with him, she found his brisk directness not unpleasing. He asked
+her of the rancheros and of reports that came to him of their
+dissatisfaction with American authority.
+
+"They seem so cordial," he said, "these Spanish gentlemen. I cannot
+believe that they hate us, as it is said."
+
+"Ah, Senor." Inez' smile had faded and her deep and troubled eyes held
+his. "They have cause for hatred, though they come in all good will to
+welcome you."
+
+As it chanced, they passed just then close to a little group in which
+Alcalde Bartlett made a central figure. Two of Stockton's aids were
+hanging on his words.
+
+"Tomorrow, gentlemen, we shall go riding. I will find you each a worthy
+mount. We raise fine horses on the ranches."
+
+The fiery Sanchez, strolling by, overheard as well. Eyes ablaze, he went
+on swiftly joining Vasquez and De Haro near the door. They held low
+converse for an instant with their smouldering glances on the pompous
+Bartlett. Then they hurried out.
+
+[Illustration: "Ah, Senor," Inez' smile had faded ... "they have cause
+for hatred."]
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE RANCHEROS REVOLT
+
+Five horsemen rode into the morning sunshine down El Camino Real toward
+the south. One was Washington Bartlett, alcalde of Yerba Buena, whose
+rather pursy figure sat with an ungainly lack of grace the mettled horse
+which he bestrode. It was none other than Senora Windham's favorite and
+beloved mare "Diablo," filched from the Windham stables several days
+before. In compensation she received a bit of paper signifying that the
+animal was commandeered "for military necessity."
+
+The rancheros were patient fellows, Bartlett reflected. If his
+conscience smote him sometimes, he took refuge in the knowledge that
+America was still at war with Mexico and that these horses were the
+property of alien enemies. Non-combatants, possibly. Yet they had failed
+in declaration of allegiance to the United States.
+
+"I'll show you some excellent horseflesh today," he promised his
+companions. "And, what's better, you shall have your pick."
+
+"Well, that's extraordinarily good of you, alcalde," said the man who
+rode beside him. "But ... do you mean one gets these glorious
+animals--for love?"
+
+"Not--er--exactly," Bartlett answered. "You see, my deputies and
+officers, like yourself, must ride about to make their observations and
+reports. Such are the needs of war."
+
+"Of course," another rider nodded understandingly. "And as alcalde you
+have many deputies."
+
+"As well as many--er--observation officers like ourselves to supply," a
+third supplemented, slyly dropping one eyelid.
+
+The fourth man said nothing for a time. Then, rather unexpectedly, he
+asked: "And what do you give them in exchange, alcalde?"
+
+Bartlett turned in some surprise. "I give them notes of hand," he
+answered half resentfully. "Notes redeemable in American gold--when the
+war is over."
+
+"And, are these notes negotiable security? Will your shop-keepers accept
+them in lieu of coin?"
+
+"At proper discounts--yes," said Bartlett, flushing.
+
+"I have heard," the other remarked almost musingly, "that they are
+redeemable at from fifteen to twenty per cent. And that the only man who
+accepts them at even half of their face value is McTurpin the gambler."
+
+"That is not my business," Bartlett answered brusquely. The quintet rode
+on, absorbed and silent. Below them swept green reaches of ranch land,
+dotted here and there with cattle and horses or the picturesque
+haciendas of old Spanish families. The camino stretched white and broad
+before them, winding through rolling hillocks, shaded sometimes by huge
+overhanging trees.
+
+"Isn't this Francisco Sanchez, whom we go to visit, a soldier, a former
+commandante of your town, alcalde?" asked a rider.
+
+"Yes, the same one who ran away when Montgomery came." Bartlett laughed.
+"It was several days before he dared come out of the brush to take a
+look at the 'gringo invader.'"
+
+"I met him at the reception to Commodore Stockton," said the man who
+rode beside Bartlett. "He didn't impress me as a timid chap, exactly.
+Something of a fire-eater, I'd have said."
+
+"Oh, they're all fire-eaters--on the surface," Bartlett's tone was
+disdainful. "But you may all judge for yourselves in a moment. For, if
+I'm not mistaken, he's coming up the road to meet us."
+
+"By jove, he sits his horse like a king," said Bartlett's companion,
+admiringly. "Who are those chaps with him? Looks like a sort
+of--reception committee."
+
+"They are Guerrero and Vasquez and--oh, yes, young Benito Windham,"
+Bartlett answered. He spurred his horse and the others followed; there
+was something about the half careless formation of the four riders ahead
+which vaguely troubled the alcalde.
+
+"Buenos dias, caballeros," he saluted in his faulty Spanish.
+
+"Buenos dias, senors," Sanchez spoke with unusual crispness. "You have
+come for horses, doubtless, amigo alcalde?"
+
+"Ah--er--yes," said Bartlett. "The necessities of war are great," he
+added apologetically.
+
+"And suppose we refuse?" Benito Windham pressed forward, blazing out the
+words in passionate anger. "Suppose we deny your manufactured
+requisitions? Whence came the horse you sit like a very clown? I will
+tell you, tyrant and despoiler. It was stolen from my mother by
+your thieves."
+
+"Benito, hold your peace," said Sanchez sternly. "I will deal with this
+good gentleman and his friends. They shall be our guests for a time."
+
+As though the words had been a signal, five lariats descended apparently
+from a clear sky, each falling over the head of a member of Bartlett's
+party. They settled neatly and were tightened, pinning the arms of
+riders helplessly.
+
+"Well done, amigos," commented Sanchez as a quintet of grinning vaqueros
+rode up from the rear. "As you have so aptly said, the necessities of
+war are paramount, alcalde."
+
+"What's the meaning of this?" demanded Bartlett. "Release us instantly,
+or you shall suffer. Do you think," he sneered, "that a handful of
+greasers can defy the United States?"
+
+"Perchance, with so important an official as the great Alcalde Bartlett
+for your hostage, we can reach a compromise on certain points," said
+Sanchez. "Come, you shall suffer no hardship, if you accept the
+situation reasonably."
+
+"I warn you that this means death or imprisonment to all of you,"
+Bartlett shouted.
+
+"Ah, senor, the risks of war are many." Sanchez' teeth flashed. He
+clucked to his horse and the little cavalcade wound, single-file, up a
+narrow horse-trail toward the hills.
+
+They passed many bands of horsemen, all armed, saluting Sanchez as their
+chief. Among them were owners and vaqueros from a score of ranches.
+There was something grim, determined in their manner which foreboded
+serious trouble.
+
+One of Bartlett's fellow-captives leaned toward him, whispering: "Those
+fellows mean business. They're like hornets if you stir 'em up too far,
+these greasers."
+
+"Yes, by Jove! And they mean to sting!" said another.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+McTURPIN'S COUP
+
+Yerba Buena was in an uproar. Sanchez' capture of Alcalde Bartlett and
+his party had brought home with a vengeance the war which hitherto was
+but an echo from far Mexico. Now the peaceful pueblo was an armed camp.
+Volunteers rode in from San Jose, San Juan and other nearby pueblos,
+asking for a chance to "fight the greasers." All the ranches of the
+countryside buzzed with a martial ardor. Vaqueros, spurred with jangling
+silver-mounted harness, toward Francisco Sanchez' stronghold in the
+Santa Clara hills to battle with the "gringo tyrants."
+
+Commander Hull of the "Warren" had sent a hundred sailors and marines
+from his sloop, post haste, to quell the rebellion. Couriers rode to and
+fro between his headquarters in the custom house and the punitive
+expedition under Captain Ward Marston which was scouting the Santa Clara
+plains in search of the enemy.
+
+Even now the battle waged, no doubt, for Marston that morning reported a
+brush with the enemy, had asked for reinforcements. Hull had sent post
+haste a pack of ill assorted and undrilled adventurers from among the
+new arrivals. That was 9 o'clock and now the sun had passed its noon
+meridian--with no courier.
+
+William Leidesdorff came strolling up, his expression placid, smiling as
+always. He was warm from toiling up the hill and paused, panting, hat in
+hand, to mop his brow with a large red 'kerchief.
+
+"Ha! Commander!" he saluted. "And how goes it this morning?"
+
+Hull glanced at him half irritated, half amused. One could never quite
+be angry at this fellow nor in tune with him. Leidesdorff, with his
+cherubic grin, his plump, comfortable body, the close-cropped hair, side
+whiskers and moustache, framing and embellishing his round face with an
+ornate symmetry, was like a bearded cupid. Hull handed him the latest
+dispatch. "Nothing since then, confound it!" he said gloomily.
+
+"Ah, well," spoke Leidesdorff, with unction, "one should not be alarmed.
+What is that cloud of dust on the horizon? A courier perhaps."
+
+It proved to be Samuel Brannan, dusty and weary, with dispatches from
+Captain Ward which Hull almost snatched from his hand. A group of men
+and women who had watched his arrival, gathered about asking questions.
+Nathan Spear spoke first. He had been too ill to join the Americans, but
+had furnished them horses and arms. "How goes it with our 'army,' Sam?"
+he asked.
+
+"None too well," said Brannan. "Those greasers can fight and they've a
+good leader. Everyone of them would die for Sanchez. And everyone's a
+sharpshooter. For a time they amused themselves this morning knocking
+off our hats--it rather demoralized the recruits."
+
+Hull, with an imprecation, crushed the dispatch and turned to Brannan.
+"We must have more men and quickly," he announced. "Ward asks for
+instant reinforcements.... Can you recruit--say fifty--from
+your colony?"
+
+"Impossible," said Brannan, shortly. "I have sent all who can ride or
+manage a rifle." He came a little closer and regarded the commander
+steadily. "Did Ward write anything about a parley?" he inquired.
+
+"Yes," said Hull. "He indicates that peace might be arranged if I will
+give a guarantee against further horse or cattle commandeering."
+
+"May I suggest that such a course is wise--and just?"
+
+"Damn it, sir! You'd have me treat with these--these brigands!" the
+other shouted. "Never. They've defied the United States by laying
+violent hands on an official. They've wounded two of my marines."
+
+He turned to the crowd which had assembled. "Do you hear that? Two
+Americans wounded. Five held in captivity--including your alcalde. Shall
+we stand that passively? Shall we let the enemy dictate terms?"
+
+"No, no!" a voice shouted. "Fight to the last ditch. Kill the greasers.
+Hang them to a tree. I'm with you, horse and gun. Who else?"
+
+"I, I, I," a score made answer. They pressed forward. "Who's to lead
+us?" asked the first speaker.
+
+Brannan stepped forward but Commander Hull raised a protesting hand. "I
+shall send a corporal of marines from the Warren. You will rest your
+horse, since I cannot spare you a fresh mount, and hold yourself in
+readiness to act as a courier, Mr. Brannan." He summoned an orderly and
+sent him to the Warren with an order to Corporal Smith. Meanwhile the
+volunteers assembled in the square, thirty-four in all; men of half a
+dozen nationalities. One giant Russian loomed above them, a Goliath on a
+great roan horse. And near him, to accentuate the contrast, an elderly
+moustached, imperialed Frenchman on a mare as under-sized and spirited
+as himself.
+
+Brannan and Leidesdorff watched them galloping down the camino ten
+minutes later under the guidance of a smart young corporal.
+
+"I trust it will soon be over," said the former. "I saw Benito Windham
+riding beside Sanchez in the battle today."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Senorita Inez' head was high that afternoon when McTurpin came upon
+her suddenly in the patio of the Windham hacienda. She rose haughtily.
+"Senor, this intrusion is unpardonable. If my brother was within
+call--" McTurpin bowed low. There was a touch of mockery in his eye.
+"It is about your brother that I've come to talk with you, Miss Inez."
+
+The girl's hand sought her breast. "Benito! He is not--" Words failed
+her.
+
+"No, not dead--yet," McTurpin answered.
+
+"God in Heaven! Tell me," said the girl, imploringly! "He is wounded?
+Dying?" McTurpin took a seat beside her on the rustic bench. "Benito
+isn't dead--nor wounded so far as I know. But," his tone held an ominous
+meaning, "it might be better if he were."
+
+"I--I do not understand," said Inez, staring.
+
+"Then let me make it clear." McTurpin struck a fist against his palm.
+"Your brother is American. Very well. And what is an American who takes
+up arms against his country?"
+
+The girl sprang up. "It is a lie. Benito fights for freedom, justice
+only--"
+
+"That is not the view of our American Commander," McTurpin rose and
+faced her. "The law of war is that a man who fights against his country
+is a traitor." His eyes held hers hypnotically. "When this revolt is
+over there will be imprisonment or pardon for the Spanish-Californians.
+_But Benito will be hanged_."
+
+Inez Windham swayed. One hand grasped at the bench-back for support; the
+other clutched her bodice near the throat. "Benito," she said almost in
+a whisper. Then she turned upon McTurpin furiously. "Go," she cried. "I
+do not believe you. Go!"
+
+But McTurpin did not stir. "It is the law of nations," he declared, "no
+use denying it, Miss Windham."
+
+"Why did you come to tell me this? To torture me?"
+
+"To save you--and your brother?"
+
+"How?" she asked fiercely.
+
+"I have influence with Alcalde Bartlett." The gambler smiled. "He owes
+me--more than he can pay. But if that fails ..." he turned toward her
+eagerly, "I have means to accomplish his escape."
+
+"And the price," she stammered. "There is a price, isn't there?"
+
+His gaze met hers directly, "You, little Inez."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE ELOPEMENT
+
+Two riders, a man and a veiled woman evidently young, halted their
+horses in Portsmouth Square, where the former alighted and offered an
+arm to his companion. She, however, disdaining his assistance, sprang
+lightly from the saddle and, turning her back on him, gazed, motionless,
+toward the bay. There was something arresting and curiously dramatic
+about the whole performance, something that hinted of impending tragedy.
+The slight figure with its listless droop and stony immobility caught
+and clutched the sympathies of Nathan Spear as he was passing by. The
+man was Alec McTurpin; the girl, no doubt, some light o' love from a
+neighboring pueblo. Yet there was a disturbing familiarity about her.
+
+Spear watched them go across the square toward the City Hotel, a long,
+one-story adobe structure built by Leidesdorff as a store and home. On
+the veranda stood the stocky figure of Proprietor Brown, smoking a long
+pipe and conversing with half a dozen roughly dressed men who lounged
+about the entrance. He looked up wonderingly as McTurpin approached. The
+latter drew him to one side and appeared to make certain demands to
+which Brown acquiesced by a curt nod, as if reluctant. Then the man and
+woman passed around a corner of the building, the loungers peering
+curiously after them.
+
+A little later Spear observed the gambler issue forth alone and journey
+rapidly toward the landing dock. He noted that a strange ship rode at
+anchor. It must have come within the hour, he decided. Impelled by
+curiosity, he descended in McTurpin's wake.
+
+"What ship is that?" he asked of Leidesdorff.
+
+"I haven't learned her name. She's from the north coast with a lot of
+sick men. They've the scurvy and flux, I'm told. Dr. Jones has
+gone aboard."
+
+"I wonder what McTurpin's doing at the ship?" said Spear. "He'll get no
+gambling victims out of ailing seamen."
+
+"It's something else he wants, I fancy," said Bob Ridley, coming from
+the dock toward them. "He's looking for a preacher--"
+
+"Preacher?" cried the other men in unison.
+
+"Yes," responded Ridley. "Aleck's going to be married, the sly dog. And
+since the padres will have nothing to do with him, he's hard pressed.
+Perhaps the wench is a stickler for proprieties," he laughed. "Someone
+told him there was a sky pilot aboard the ship!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Inez Windham removed her veil. She was in a small room, almost dark,
+where McTurpin had left her after locking the door on the outside. It
+was like a cell, with one small window high and narrow which let in a
+straggling transmitted light, dimming mercifully the crude outlines of a
+wooden stool, a bedstead of rough lumber, covered by soiled blankets, a
+box-like commode upon which stood a pitcher and basin of heavy crockery.
+
+The walls were very thin. From beyond them, in what was evidently a
+public chamber, came snatches of talk interspersed with oaths, a click
+of poker chips and coin, now and then a song. An odor of rank tobacco
+seeped through the muslin-covered walls. With a sudden feeling of
+nausea, of complete despair, the girl threw herself face down upon
+the bed.
+
+For a time Inez lay there, oblivious to all save the misery of her
+fate. If only her father had not gone with those northern engineers! If
+only Benito were here to advise her! Benito, her beloved brother, in
+whose path the gallows loomed. It was that picture which had caused her
+to yield to McTurpin. Even darker, now, was the picture of her own
+future. A gambler's wife! Her hand sought a jewelled dagger which she
+always carried in her coiffure. Her fingers closed about the hilt with a
+certain solace. After Benito was safe--
+
+Voices in the next room caught her interest by a mention of the Santa
+Clara battle.
+
+"Hull is fighting mad," she heard. "He promises to bring the greasers to
+their knees. It's unconditional surrender or no quarter, Brannan says."
+
+"First catch your pig--then butcher it," said another, meaningly. "The
+Spaniards have the best of it thus far. Hull's shouting frantically for
+reinforcements. Well, he won't get me. I think the rancheros have their
+side as well as we. If this stiff-necked commander would listen
+to reason."
+
+"He hasn't heard the other side," the first speaker resumed. "If he knew
+what Alcalde Bartlett had done to these poor devils through his horse
+and cattle raids--"
+
+A third man laughed. "He'll never learn that, partner, have no fear;
+who'll tell him?"
+
+"Well, here's to Uncle Sam," said a fourth voice. Followed a clink of
+glasses. Inez Windham sat up swiftly and dried her eyes. A daring
+thought had come to her.
+
+Why should not she tell Commander Hull the truth!
+
+She rose and smoothed her ruffled gown. A swift look from the window
+revealed that the road was clear. Inez began tugging at the door. It
+resisted her efforts, but she renewed the battle with all the fury of
+her youthful strength. Finally the flimsy lock gave a bit beneath her
+efforts; a narrow slit appeared between the door and jamb in which she
+forced her hands and thus secured a great purchase. Then, one foot
+against the wall, she tugged and pried and pulled until, with a sudden
+crack, the bar to liberty sprang open.
+
+She was free.
+
+Just across the Plaza the custom house looked down at her, the late sun
+glinting redly on its tiles. There, no doubt, she would find Commander
+Hull. She hastened forward.
+
+"Not so fast, my dear!"
+
+A hand fell on her shoulder rudely. With, a gasp she looked up at
+McTurpin.
+
+Beside the gambler, whose eyes burned angrily, Inez perceived a tall,
+lean, bearded stranger.
+
+"Let me go!" she demanded.
+
+"I have brought the parson," said McTurpin. "We can be married at once."
+
+"I--I--let us wait a little," stammered Inez.
+
+"Why?" the gambler asked suspiciously. "Where were you going?"
+
+"Nowhere," she evaded, "for a walk--"
+
+"Well, you can walk back to the hotel, my lady," said McTurpin. "I have
+little time to waste. And there's Benito to consider," he concluded.
+Suddenly he put an arm about her waist and kissed her. Inez thought of
+her brother and tried to submit. But she could not repress a little cry
+of aversion, of fear. The bearded man stepped forward. "Hold up a bit,
+partner," he drawled. "This doesn't look quite regular. Don't you wish
+to marry him, young lady?"
+
+"Of course she does," McTurpin blustered. "She rode all the way in from
+her mother's ranch to be my wife." He glared at Inez. "Isn't it true?"
+he flung at her. "Tell him."
+
+She nodded her head miserably. But the stranger was not satisfied. "Let
+go of her," he said, and when McTurpin tailed to heed the order, sinewy
+fingers on the gambler's wrist enforced it.
+
+"Now, tell me, Miss, what's wrong?" the bearded one invited. "Has this
+fellow some hold on you? Is he forcing you into this marriage?"
+
+Again the girl nodded dumbly.
+
+"She lies," said McTurpin, venomously, but the words were scarcely out
+of his mouth before the stranger's fist drove them back. McTurpin
+staggered. "Damn you!" he shouted, "I teach you to meddle between a man
+and his woman."
+
+Inez saw something gleam in his hand as the two men sprang upon each
+other. She heard another blow, a groan. Screaming, she fled uphill
+toward the custom house.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+HULL "CAPITULATES"
+
+Like a startled deer, Inez Windham fled from McTurpin and the stranger,
+her little, high-heeled slippers sinking unheeded into the horse-trodden
+mire of Portsmouth Square, her silk skirt spattered and soiled; her
+hair, freed from the protecting mantilla, blowing in the searching trade
+wind. Thus, as Commander Hull sat upon the custom house veranda, reading
+the latest dispatch from Captain Ward, she burst upon him--a flushed,
+disheveled, lovely vision with fear-stricken eyes.
+
+"Senor," she panted, "Senor Commandante ... I must speak with you at
+once!"
+
+Hull rose. "My dear young lady"--he regarded her with patent
+consternation--"my dear young lady ... w-what is wrong?"
+
+She was painfully aware of her bedraggled state, the whirlwind lack of
+ceremony with which she had propelled herself into his presence.
+Suddenly words failed her, she was conscious that an arm stretched
+toward her as she swayed. Next she lay upon a couch in an inner chamber,
+the commander, in his blue-and-gold-braid stiffness bending over her,
+gravely anxious.
+
+She rose at once, ignoring his protesting gesture.
+
+"I--I fainted?" she asked perplexedly. Hull nodded. "Something excited
+you. A fight in the street below. A man was stabbed--"
+
+"Oh!" The white face of the bearded stranger sprang into her memory, "Is
+he dead?"
+
+"No, but badly hurt, I fancy," said the Commander. "They have taken him
+to the City Hotel."
+
+Desperately, she forced herself to speak. "I have come, senor, to ask a
+pardon for my brother. He is very dear to me--and to my mother"--she
+clasped her hands and held them toward him supplicatingly. "Senor, if
+Benito should be captured--you will have mercy?"
+
+The commander regarded her with puzzled interest. "Who is Benito, little
+one?"
+
+"His name is Windham. My father was a gring--Americano, Commandante."
+
+Hull frowned. "An American ... fighting against his country?" he said
+sharply.
+
+"Ah, sir"--the girl came closer in her earnestness--"he does not fight
+against the United States ... only against robbers who would hide behind
+its flag." In her tone there was the outraged indignation of a suffering
+people. "Horse thieves, cattle robbers."
+
+"Hush," said Hull, "you must not speak thus of American officials. Their
+seizures, I am told, were unavoidable--for military needs alone."
+
+"You have never heard our side," the girl spoke bitterly. "Was it
+military need that filched two hundred of our blooded horses from the
+ranches? Was it military need that robbed my ailing mother of her pet,
+the mare Diablo? Was it military need that gave our finest steeds to
+your Alcalde for his pleasure, that enabled half a dozen false officials
+to recruit their stables from our caponeras and sell horses in the open
+market?" Her eyes blazed. "Senor, it was tyranny and theft, no less. Had
+I been a man, like Benito, I, too, should have ridden with Sanchez."
+
+"Can you prove these things?" asked the Commander, sternly.
+
+"Si, senor," said Inez quickly. "It is well known hereabouts. Do not
+take my word," she smiled, "I am a woman--a Spaniard, on my mother's
+side. Ask your own countrymen--Samuel Brannan, Nathan Spear, William
+Leidesdorff."
+
+Hull pulled at his chin reflectively. "Something of this sort I have
+already heard," he said, "but I believed it idle gossip.... If your
+brother had come to me, instead of riding with the enemy--"
+
+"He is a youth, hot-blooded and impulsive, Senor Commandante." Swiftly,
+and to Hull's intense embarrassment, she knelt before him. "We love him
+so: my mother, who is ill, and I," she pleaded. "He is all we have....
+Ah, senor, you will spare him--our Benito!"
+
+"Get up," said Hull a trifle brusquely. His tone, too, shook a little.
+"Confound it, girl, I'm not a murderer." He forced a smile. "If my men
+haven't shot the young scoundrel you may have him back."
+
+"And that," he added, as the girl rose with a shining rapture in her
+eyes, "may be tomorrow." He picked up a paper from the desk and regarded
+it thoughtfully. "There is truce at present. Sanchez will surrender if I
+give my word that there shall be no further raids."
+
+"And--you will do this, Commandante?" the girl asked, breathlessly.
+
+"I--will consult with Brannan, Leidesdorff and Spear, as you suggested,"
+Hull replied. But his eyes were kind. The Senorita Inez had her answer.
+Impetuously, her arms went around his neck. An instant later, dazed, a
+little red, a moist spot on his cheek and a lingering fragrance clinging
+subtly like the touch of vanished arms, Hull watched her flying heels
+upon the muddy square.
+
+"Well, I'll be damned!" he said, explosively.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the room which had been Inez' whilom prison--and which proved to be
+the only one available in the City Hotel, Adrian Stanley lay tossing and
+muttering. The woman who sat at his bedside watched anxiously each
+movement of his lips, listening eagerly to catch the incoherent,
+whispered words. For a time she could make of them no intelligent
+meaning. But now, after a long and quiet interval, he began to ask
+questions, though his eyes were still closed. "Am I going to die?"
+
+"No," said Inez, for it was she, "you've lost a lot of blood, but the
+doctor says there's small danger."
+
+The bearded face looked up half quizzically. "Are you glad?"
+
+"Oh ... yes," said Inez, with a quick-taken respiration.
+
+"Then it's all right," the patient murmured sleepily. His eyes closed.
+
+Inez' color heightened as she watched him. What had he meant, she
+wondered, and decided that his brain was not quite clear. But, somehow,
+this was not the explanation she desired.
+
+Presently Dr. Elbert Jones came in, cheering her with his breezy, jovial
+drawl.
+
+"Getting tired of your task?" he questioned. But Inez shook her head.
+"He protected me," she said. "It was while defending me that he was
+wounded." Her eyes searched the physician's face. "Where," she
+questioned fearfully, "is--"
+
+"McTurpin?" returned the doctor. "Lord knows. He vamoosed,
+absquatulated. You'll hear no more of him, I think, Miss Windham."
+
+For a moment the dark lashes of the patient rose as if something in the
+doctor's words had caught his attention; then they fell again over weary
+eyes and he appeared to sleep. But when Doctor Jones was gone, Inez
+found him regarding her with unusual interest.
+
+"Did I hear him call you Windham?" he inquired, "Inez Windham?"
+
+"Yes, that is my name," she answered.
+
+"And your father's?"
+
+"He is Don Roberto Windham of the Engineers," Inez leaned forward.
+"Oh!" her eyes shone with a hope she dared not trust. "Tell me, quickly,
+have you news of him?"
+
+"Yes," said Stanley. "He is ill, but will recover. He will soon return."
+His eyes dwelt on the girl in silence, musingly.
+
+"Tell me more!" she pleaded. "We believed him lost. Ah, how my mother's
+health will mend when she hears this. We have waited so long...."
+
+"I was with him in the North," said Stanley. "Often, sitting at the
+camp-fire, while the others slept, he told me of his wife, his daughter,
+and his son, Benito. In my coat," he pointed to a garment hanging near
+the door, "you will find a letter--" He followed her swift, searching
+fingers, saw her press the envelope impulsively against her heart. While
+she read his eyes were on her dreamily, until at last he closed them
+with a little sigh.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+SAN FRANCISCO IS NAMED
+
+Evening on the Windham rancho. Far below, across a vast green stretch of
+meadow sloping toward the sea, the sun sank into crimson canopies of
+cloud. It was one of those perfect days which come after the first
+rains, mellow and exhilarating. The Trio in the rose arbor of the patio
+were silent under the spell of its beauty. Don Roberto Windham, home
+again, after long months of wandering and hardship, stood beside the
+chair in which Senora Windham rested against a pillow. She had mended
+much since his return, and her eyes as she looked up at him held the
+same flashing, fiery tenderness which in the long ago had caused her to
+renounce Castilian traditions and become the bride of an Americano. At
+her feet upon a low stool sat her daughter, Inez, and Windham, as he
+looked down, was a little startled at her likeness to the Spanish beauty
+he had met and married a generation before.
+
+Conscious of his glance, her eyes turned upward and she held out her
+hand to him. "Father, mine," she said in English, "you have made the
+roses bloom again in mother's cheeks. And in my heart," she added with a
+quick, impulsive tenderness.
+
+Robert Windham bent and kissed her wind-tossed hair. "I think another
+has usurped me in the latter task." He smiled, although not without a
+touch of sadness. "Ah, well, Adrian is a fine young fellow. You need not
+blush so furiously."
+
+"I think he comes," said the Senora Anita, and, unconsciously, her arm
+went around the girl. "Is not that his high-stepping mare and his
+beanpole of a figure riding beside Benito in yon cloud of dust?"
+
+She smiled down at Inez. "Do not mind your mother's jesting--Go now to
+smooth your locks and place a rose within them--as I used to do when Don
+Roberto came."
+
+Inez rose and made her way into the casa. She heard a clatter of hoofs
+and voices. At the sound of one her heart leaped strangely.
+
+"We have famous news," she heard her brother say. "The name of Yerba
+Buena has been changed to San Francisco. Here is an account of it in
+Brannan's _California Star_." She heard the rustle of a paper then, once
+more her brother's voice: "San Francisco!" he pronounced it lovingly.
+"Some day it will be a ciudad grande--perhaps even in my time."
+
+"A great city!" repeated his mother. "Thus my father dreamed of it....
+But you will pardon us, Don Adrian, for you have other things in mind
+than Yerb--than San Francisco's future. See, my little one! Even now she
+comes to bid you welcome."
+
+Inez as she joined them gave her hand to Stanley. "Ah, Don Adrian, your
+color is high"--her tone was bantering, mock-anxious. "You have not,
+perchance, a touch of fever?"
+
+He eyed her hungrily. "If I have," he spoke with that slow gentleness
+she loved so well, "it is no fever that requires roots or herbs....
+Shall I," he came a little closer, "shall I put a name to it, Senorita?"
+His words were for her ears alone. Her eyes smiled into his. "Come, let
+us show you the rose garden, Senor Stanley," she said with playful
+formality and placed her silk-gloved fingers on his arm.
+
+Senora Windham's hand groped for her husband's. There were tears in her
+eyes, but he bent down and kissed them away. "Anita, mia, do not grieve.
+He is a good lad."
+
+"It is not that." She hid her face against his shoulder. "It is not
+that--"
+
+"I understand," he whispered.
+
+After a little time Benito spoke. "Mother, I learned something from the
+warring of the rancheros aganist Alcalde Bartlett." He came forward and
+picked up the newspaper which had fallen from his mother's lap. "I
+learned," his hand fell on his father's shoulder, "that I am an
+American."
+
+"Benito!" said his mother quickly.
+
+"I am Don Roberto's son, as well as thine, remember, madre mia!" he
+spoke with unusual gentleness. "Even with Sanchez, Vasquez and Guerrero
+at my side in battle, I did not shoot to kill. Something said within,
+'These men are brothers. They are of the clan of Don Roberto, of thy
+father.' So I shot to miss. And when the commandante, Senor Hull,
+dismissed me with kind words--he who might have hanged me as a
+traitor--my heart was full of love for all his people. And contrition.
+Mother, you will forgive? You, who have taught me all the pride of the
+Hidalgo. For I must say the truth, to you and everyone...." He knelt at
+her feet, impressing a kiss of love and reverence upon her
+outstretched hand.
+
+"Rise, my son," she said, tremulously. "You are right, and it is well."
+She smiled. "Who am I to say my boy is no Americano? I, who wed the best
+and noblest of them all."
+
+There was a little silence. Inez and Don Adrian, returning, paused a
+moment, half dismayed. "Come, my children," said Anita Windham.
+
+"Ah," cried Inez, teasingly, "we are not the only ones who have been
+making love." She led her companion forward. "We have come to ask your
+blessing, mother, father mine," she whispered. "I," her eyes fell, "I am
+taken captive by a gringo."
+
+"Do not use that name," her mother said reprovingly. But Don Roberto
+laughed. "You are the second to declare allegiance to the Stars and
+Stripes." He took Benito's hand. "My son's discovered he's American,
+Don Adrian."
+
+Presently Benito spoke again. "That is not all, my father. There is soon
+to be a meeting for relief of immigrants lost in the Sierra Nevada
+snows. James Reed will organize an expedition from Yerb--from San
+Francisco. And I wish to go. There are women and children
+starving, perhaps."
+
+"It is the Donner party. They tried a short cut and the winter overtook
+them. I, too, will go," said Don Roberto.
+
+"And I," volunteered Stanley.
+
+But the women had it otherwise. "You have been too long gone from me,"
+Anita quavered. "I would fear your loss again." And Inez argued that her
+Adrian was not recovered from his wound or illness. Finally it was
+decided that Benito only would accompany the expedition. The talk fell
+upon other matters. Alcalde Bartlett had been discredited, though not
+officially, since his return from capture by the rancheros. He was soon
+to be displaced and there would be no further commandeering of horses
+and cattle.
+
+"The commandante tells me," Windham said, "that there is still no news
+of the Warren's launch which was sent last December to pay the garrison
+at Sutter's Fort. Bob Ridley's men, who cruised the San Joaquin and
+Sacramento rivers, found nothing."
+
+"But--the boat and its crew couldn't vanish completely?" Benito's tone
+held puzzled incredulity. "There would be Wreckage. Floating bodies--"
+
+"Unless," said Adrian, "they had been hidden--buried secretly, perhaps."
+
+"Adrian, what do you mean?" asked Inez in excitement. "It was about the
+time that--"
+
+"McTurpin left," responded Stanley. "I've heard more than a whisper of
+his possible connection with the disappearance. McTurpin didn't leave
+alone. He rounded up half a dozen rough-looking fellows and they rode
+out of town together."
+
+There was a silence. Then Benito spoke. "We haven't seen the last of
+him, I fear."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE NEW YORK VOLUNTEERS
+
+It was almost a month later that Inez galloped home from San Francisco
+with a precious missive from the absent brother. They had outfitted at
+Johnson's ranch near Sacramento and, encountered the first expedition
+returning with twenty-two starved wretches from the Donner Camp. Many
+women and children still remained there.
+
+"We started on the day which is a gringo fete because it is the natal
+anniversary of the great George Washington," Benito's chronicle
+concluded. "May it prove a good omen, and may we bring freedom, life to
+the poor souls engulfed by the snowdrifts. I kiss your hands. BENITO."
+
+A fortnight passed before there came another letter. The second relief
+party had reached Donner Camp without mishap but, with seventeen
+survivors, had been storm-bound on a mountain summit and returned with
+but eleven of the rescued after frightful hardship. Benito was
+recuperating in a Sacramento hospital from frozen feet.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Look, Roberto," exclaimed Senora Windham as they cantered into San
+Francisco one morning. "A ship all gay with banners! See the townsfolk
+are excited. They rush to the Embarcadero. The band plays. It must be
+the festival of some Americano patron saint."
+
+"It is the long expected New York volunteers," replied her husband.
+"They've been recruited for the past year for service in California.
+Colonel Stevenson, the commander, is a most distinguished man. The
+president himself made him an offer of command if he could raise a
+regiment of California volunteers." Windham smiled. "I believe it is
+for colonization rather than actual military duty that they've been sent
+out here ... three shiploads of them with two doctors and a chaplain."
+
+As they picked their way along a narrow footpath toward the beach, the
+portly Leidesdorff advanced to greet them. "Would that I had a cloak of
+velvet," he said gallantly, "so that I might lay it in the mire at your
+feet, fair lady." Anita Windham flashed a smile at him. "Like the
+chivalrous Don Walter Raleigh," she responded. "Ah, but I am not a Queen
+Elizabeth. Nor is this London." She regarded with a shrug of distaste
+the stretch of mud-flats reaching to the tide-line, rubbish--littered
+and unfragrant. Knee-deep in its mire, bare-legged Indians and booted
+men drove piles for the superstructure of a new pier.
+
+Lieutenant Bryant joined them, brisk and natty in his naval garb. He was
+the new alcalde, Bartlett having been displaced and ordered to
+rejoin his ship.
+
+"No, it's not London," he took up Anita's statement, "but it's going to
+be a better San Francisco if I have my way. We'll fill that bog with
+sand and lay out streets between Fort Montgomery and the Rincon, if the
+governor'll cede the tide-flats to the town. Jasper O'Farrell is
+making a map."
+
+"See, they are landing," cried the Dona Windham, clapping her hands.
+
+A boat put off amid hails from the shore. Soon four officers and a
+boat's crew stood upon the landing pier and gazed about them curiously.
+
+"That's Colonel Stevenson," said Bryant, nodding toward the leader. On
+the verge of fifty, statesmanlike of mien and manner, stood the man who
+had recruited the first volunteer company which came around The Horn. He
+fingered his sword a bit awkwardly, as though unused to military dress
+formalities. But his eyes were keen and eager and commanding.
+
+More boats put off from the anchored vessel. By and by the parade
+began, led by Captain Stevenson. It was a straggling military formation
+that toiled up-hill through the sand toward Portsmouth Square. These men
+were from the byways and hedges of life. Some of them had shifty eyes
+and some bold, predatory glances which forebode nothing good for San
+Francisco's peace. Adventurers for the most part, lured to this new
+land, some by the wander spirit, others by a wish to free themselves
+from the restraints of law. Certain of them were to die upon the
+gallows; others were to be the proud and honored citizens of a raw,
+potential metropolis. They talked loudly, vehemently, to one another as
+they marched like school boys seeing strange sights, pointing eagerly at
+all that aroused their interest. The officers marched more stiffly as
+though conscious of official noblesse oblige.
+
+"I wish that Inez might have seen it," Mrs. Windham said a little
+wistfully. "But she must help the Indian seamstress with her gown for
+the dance. Don Adrian is to be there."
+
+"He has decided that there are other ways of serving God than in the
+pulpit," remarked Stanley. "They talk of making him the master of the
+school ... if our committee can ever decide on a location and what's to
+pay for it."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the full regimentals of his rank, Colonel Stevenson graced
+Leidesdorff's ballroom that evening, cordially exchanging smiles and
+bows with San Francisco's citizenry. Besides him was his quartermaster,
+Captain Joseph Folsom who, though less than thirty, had seen active
+service in a Florida campaign against the Seminoles. He held himself
+slightly aloof with the class consciousness of the West Pointer.
+
+Nearby stood a lanky surgeon of the volunteers discussing antiseptics
+with Dr. Jones. Leidesdorff was everywhere, pathetically eager to
+please, an ecstatic, perspiring figure, making innumerable inquiries as
+to the comfort of his guests.
+
+"He's like a mother hen worried over a brood of new chicks," said
+Brannan to Jasper O'Farrell.
+
+"And a damned fine little man," the Irishman answered. "Oh--I beg your
+pardon, Senorita."
+
+Inez Windham smiled forgiveness, nodding when he asked her for a dance.
+"Tell me," she asked eagerly, "of the grand new map you make for San
+Francisco."
+
+"Ah," O'Farrell said, "they laugh at it because I have to change
+Vioget's acute and obtuse angles. They call it 'O'Farrell's Swing.' You
+see, I've had to change the direction of some streets. There are many
+more now. Eight hundred acres laid out like a city."
+
+As the music stopped he led her to a bench and fumbled in his pocket for
+a drawing which he straightened on his knees. "See, here is a new road
+through the center, a broad way, straight as an arrow from the bay to
+the foot of Twin Peaks. It parallels the Mission camino, and Bryant
+wants to call it Market street."
+
+"But how is this?" asked Inez puzzled, "streets where there is only mud
+and water--"
+
+"They will be reclaimed with the waste from our leveled sand hills,"
+said O'Farrell. He glanced about him searchingly, then whispered:
+"Tonight Governor Mason told me confidentially he would cede the tide
+flats to our local government, provided they are sold at auction for the
+benefit of San Francisco. They'll go cheap; but some day they'll be
+worth thousands. Tell your father--"
+
+He broke off hastily. Toward them stalked Benito Windham, covered with
+dust as though from a long ride. There was trouble in his eyes. With a
+swift apology he drew his sister aside. "McTurpin," he panted. "He is
+back ... with a dozen men ... riding toward the rancho."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE "SYDNEY DUCKS"
+
+Dazed with the suddenness of Benito's announcement and its menacing
+augury, Inez sought her father and Adrian. The latter acted instantly.
+"Do not tell your wife," he said to Windham. "There may be nothing
+amiss. And if there should be, she will find no profit in knowing. Tell
+her you are called away and follow me to the square. We will ride at
+once to the rancho."
+
+He pressed Inez' hand and was gone. "Take care of your mother," he said
+over his shoulder, an admonition which Don Roberto repeated a moment
+later as he hurried out. She was left alone in a maze of doubts, fears,
+speculations. What was McTurpin doing in San Francisco? Why had he and
+his companions ridden toward the Windham rancho? There was only one
+answer. Most of the vaqueros were at a fandango in the Mission. Only the
+serving women and a few men too old for dancing remained at home.
+
+Meawhile her brother, father, lover were speeding homeward, into what? A
+trap? An ambush? Certainly to battle with a foe out-numbering them
+four to one.
+
+At the Mission were a dozen of their servants; men whose fathers and
+grandfathers had ridden herd for her family. Any one of them would give
+his life to serve a Windham.
+
+Inez looked about her feverishly. Should she ask O'Farrell to accompany
+her? He was dancing with one of the Mormon women. Brannan and Spear were
+not to be seen. Leidesdorff was impossible in such an emergency.
+Besides, she could not take him from his guests. She would go alone,
+decided Inez. Quietly she made her way to the cloak-room, in charge of
+an Indian servant, caught up her mantilla and riding crop and fled. On
+the square her horse whinnied at her approach as if eager to be gone.
+Swiftly she climbed into the saddle and spurred forward.
+
+Far ahead gleamed the lights of the Mission. They were making merry
+there with the games and dance of old Spain. And to the south Benito,
+Adrian, her father, rode toward a battle with treacherous men.
+Breathlessly she spurred her horse to greater effort. Trees flashed by
+like witches in the dark. Presently she heard the music of the fandango.
+
+Another picture framed itself before her vision. Excited faces round
+her. A sudden stoppage of the music, a frocked priest making anxious
+inquiries. Her own wild words; a jingle of spurs. Then many hoofs
+pounding on the road beside her.
+
+She never knew just what had happened, what she had said. But now she
+felt the sting of the bay breeze in her face and Antonio's steady hand
+upon her saddle pommel.
+
+"Caramba!" he was muttering. "The pig of a gringo once more. And your
+father; the little Benito. Hurry, comrades, faster! faster! To
+the rescue!"
+
+Came a third picture, finally more clear, more disconcerting. The
+entrance to her father's ranch barred by armed riders. McTurpin smiling
+insolent in the moonlight, bowing to her while Antonio muttered in
+suppressed wrath.
+
+"We have three hostages here, senorita ... relatives of yours and ah--a
+friend." His voice, cold, threatening, spoke on. "They are
+unharmed--as yet."
+
+"I don't believe you," Inez stormed at him.
+
+"Tell them, Senor Windham," said McTurpin, "that I speak the truth."
+
+"Inez, it is true," her father spoke out of some shadowed darkness. "We
+were ambushed. Taken by surprise."
+
+"What do you propose?" asked Antonio, unable longer to restrain himself.
+
+"To turn them loose ... upon their word not to trouble us further,"
+said McTurpin. "I have merely assumed control of my property. I hold the
+conveyance of Benito Windham. It is all quite regular," he
+laughed shortly.
+
+Antonio moved uneasily. His hand upon the lariat itched for a cast.
+McTurpin saw it. "You'll do well to sit still in the saddle," he
+reminded, "all of you. We have you covered."
+
+"What are your orders, master?" said the chief vaquero tensely. "Say the
+word and we will--"
+
+"No," commanded Windham. "There shall be no fighting now. We will go.
+Tomorrow we shall visit the Alcalde. I can promise no more than this."
+
+"It's enough," McTurpin answered. "I've possession. I've a deed with
+your son's signature. And a dozen good friends to uphold me." He turned.
+"Take their pistols, friends, and let them go."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+George Hyde looked up from a sheaf of drawing which lay on the table
+before him and which represented the new survey of San Francisco. A boy
+with a bundle of papers under his arm entered unannounced, tossed a copy
+of "The California Star" toward him and departed. Hyde picked it up
+and read:
+
+     "GREAT SALE OF VALUABLE REAL ESTATE IN THE TOWN OF SAN
+     FRANCISCO, UPPER CALIFORNIA.
+
+     "By the following decree of His Excellency, General S.W.
+     Kearny, Governor of California, all the right, title and
+     interest of the United States and of the territory of
+     California to the BEACH AND WATER lots on the east front of
+     the town of San Francisco have been granted, conveyed and
+     released to the people or corporate authorities of said
+     town--"
+
+Hyde read on. There was a post-script by Edwin Bryant, his predecessor
+as alcalde, calling a public sale for June 29. That was rather soon.
+But he would see. Hyde had an antipathy to any rule or circumstance
+fixed by another. His enemies called him "pig-headed"; his friends
+"forceful," though with a sigh. There was something highhanded in the
+look and manner of him, though few men had better intent. Now his glance
+fell on another, smaller item in the newspaper.
+
+     "SYDNEY DUCKS ARRIVE."
+
+     "In recent vessels from the antipodes have come numerous men
+     from Australia who, according to rumor, are deported English
+     criminals, known as 'Sydney Ducks.' It is said that the
+     English government winks at the escape of these birds of ill
+     omen, who are lured hither by tales of our lawlessness
+     carried by sailormen. It is high time we had a little more
+     law in San Francisco."
+
+That was another of his problems, Hyde reflected irritably. "Sydney
+Ducks." There would be many more no doubt, for San Francisco was
+growing. It had 500 citizens, irrespective of the New York volunteers;
+157 buildings. He would need helpers in the task of city-governing. Half
+idly he jotted down the names of men that would prove good henchmen:
+
+"William A. Leidesdorff, Robert A. Parker, Jose P. Thompson, Pedro
+Sherreback, John Rose, Benjamin Buckalew."
+
+It had a cosmopolitan smack, though it ignored some prominent and
+capable San Franciscans. William Clark, for instance, with whom
+Washington Bartlett had quarreled over town lots, Dr. Elbert Jones and
+William Howard. Hyde was not certain whether they would be amenable to
+his program. Well, he would see.
+
+A shadow loomed in his doorway. He looked up to see Adrian Stanley and
+Robert Windham.
+
+"Come in. Come in." He tried to speak cordially, but there was a shade
+of irritation in his tone. They, too, were a problem.
+
+"Be seated," he invited, as the two men entered. But they stood before
+him rather stiffly.
+
+"Is there any--news?" asked Adrian.
+
+"Nothing favorable," said Hyde uneasily. He made an impatient gesture.
+"You can see for yourselves, gentlemen, that my hands are tied. The
+man--what's-his-name?--McTurpin, has a perfectly correct conveyance
+signed by your son. Benito, I understand, does not deny his signature.
+And his right is unquestioned, for the property came to him direct from
+his uncle, who was Francisco Garvez' only son."
+
+"But--" began Adrian hotly.
+
+"Yes, yes, I know," Hyde interrupted. "The man is a rascal. But what of
+that? It does not help us; I have no power to aid you, gentlemen."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE AUCTION ON THE BEACH
+
+It was the morning of July 20. Fog drifts rode the bay like huge white
+swans, shrouding the Island of Alcatraz with a rise and fall of
+impalpable wings and casting many a whilom plume over the tents and
+adobe houses nestling between sandhills and scrub-oaks in the cove of
+San Francisco.
+
+Robert and Benito Windham, on the hill above Clark's Point, looked down
+toward the beach, where a crowd was gathering for the auction of
+tidewater lots. The Windhams, since their dispossession by McTurpin, had
+been guests of hospitable Juana Briones. Through the Alcalde's order
+they had secured their personal effects. But the former gambler still
+held right and title to the Windham acres. Adrian Stanley made his home
+at the City Hotel and had been occupied with an impromptu school where
+some four score children and half a dozen illiterates were daily taught
+the mysteries of the "Three Rs."
+
+"Adrian has determined to buy some of these mud-lots," said Windham to
+his son. "He believes some day they will be valuable and that he will
+make his fortune." He sighed. "I fear my son-to-be is something of a
+visionary."
+
+Benito gave his father a quick, almost furtive glance. "Do not condemn
+him for that," he said, with a hint of reproach. "Adrian is far-sighted,
+yes; but not a dreamer."
+
+"What can he do with a square of bog that is covered half of the time by
+water?" asked Windham.
+
+"Ah," Benito said, "we've talked that over, Adrian and I. Adrian has a
+plan of reclamation. An engineering project for leveling sandhills by
+contract and using the waste to cover his land. He has already arranged
+for ox-teams and wagons. It is perfectly feasible, my father."
+
+Robert Windham smiled at the other's enthusiasm. "Perhaps you are
+right," he said. "God grant it--and justify your faith in that huddle of
+huts below."
+
+Below them a man had mounted an improvised platform. He was waving his
+arms, haranguing an ever-growing audience. Benito stirred uneasily. "I
+must go," he said. "I promised Adrian to join him."
+
+"Very well," returned his father. He watched the slight and supple
+figure riding down the slope.
+
+Slowly he made his way back to the Rancho Briones. His wife met him at
+the gate.
+
+"Juana and Inez have gone to the sale," she announced. "Shall we join
+them in the pueblo later on?"
+
+"Nay, Anita," he said, "unless you wish it.... I have no faith in mire."
+
+She looked up at him anxiously. "Roberto! I grieve to hear it. They--"
+she checked herself.
+
+"They--what, my love?" he asked curiously.
+
+"They have gone to buy," said Anita. "Juana has great faith. She has
+considerable money. And Inez has taken her jewels--even a few of mine.
+The Senor O'Farrell whispered to her at the ball that the lots would
+sell for little and their value would increase immensely."
+
+"So, that is why Benito has his silver-mounted harness," Windham spoke
+half to himself. He smiled a little ruefully. "You are all gamblers,
+dreamers.... You dear ones of Spanish heritage."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the beach a strangely varied human herd pressed close around a
+platform upon which stood Samuel Brannan and Alcalde Hyde. The former
+had promised to act as auctioneer and looked over a sheaf of notes while
+Hyde in his dry, precise and positive tone read the details of the
+forthcoming sale. It would last three days, Hyde informed his hearers,
+and 450 lots would be sold. North of the broad street paralleling the
+Mission Camino lots were sixteen and a half varas wide and fifty varas
+deep. All were between the limits of low and high water mark.
+
+"What's a vara?" shouted a new arrival.
+
+"A Spanish yard," explained Hyde, "about thirty-three and a third inches
+of English measure. Gentlemen, you are required to fence your lots and
+build a house within a year. The fees for recording and deed will be
+$3.62, and the terms of payment are a fourth down, the balance in equal
+payments during a period of eighteen months."
+
+"How about the lots that lie south?" cried a voice.
+
+"They are one hundred varas square, same terms, same fees," replied
+Hyde. He stepped down and Brannan began his address.
+
+"The site of San Francisco is known to all navigators and mercantile men
+to be the most commanding commercial position on the entire eastern
+coast of the Pacific Ocean," he shouted, quoting from former Alcalde
+Bryant's announcement of three months previous. "The town itself is
+destined to become the commercial emporium of western America."
+
+"Bravo!" supplemented the Dona Briones, waving her fan. She was the
+center of a little group composed of Benito and Inez Windham, Adrian
+Stanley and Nathan Spear. Near them, keeping out of their observance,
+stood Aleck McTurpin.
+
+"The property offered for sale is the most valuable in or belonging to
+the town," Brannan went on, enthusiastically; "it will require work to
+make it tenable. You'll have to wrest it from the waves, gentlemen ...
+and ladies," he bowed to Juana and her companion, "but, take my word for
+it--and I've never deceived you--everyone who buys will bless my memory
+half a dozen years from now...."
+
+"Why don't ye get in yerself and practice what ye preach?" cried a
+scoffing sailor.
+
+Brannan looked him up and down. "Because I'm trying to serve the
+commonwealth--which is more than a drunken deserter from his ship can
+claim," he shot back hotly, "but I'm going to buy my share, never fear.
+Bill Leidesdorff's my agent. He has $5,000 and my power of attorney.
+That's fair enough, isn't it boys? Or, shall we let the sailor act as
+auctioneer?"
+
+"No! No!" a dozen cried. "'Rah for Sam. Go on! You're doin' fine!"
+
+"Thank you," Brannan acknowledged. "Who's to make the first bid? Speak
+up, now, don't be bashful."
+
+"Twenty-five dollars," called Juana Briones.
+
+"Thirty," said a voice behind her, a voice that caused young Windham and
+his sister to start, involuntarily. "McTurpin," whispered Inez
+to Adrian.
+
+"Thirty-five," spoke Juana, imperturbably.
+
+"Forty."
+
+Brannan looked straight into McTurpin's eyes. "Sold to Juana Briones for
+thirty-five dollars," he said, as his improvised gavel fell on the table
+before him.
+
+"I bid forty!" stormed McTurpin. All eyes turned to him. But Brannan
+paid him no attention. Someone laughed.
+
+"Next! Who bids?" invited the auctioneer.
+
+"Twenty-five," began Benito.
+
+This time there were other bidders, all of whom Brannan recognized
+courteously and promptly. Finally, Benito's bid of fifty seemed to win.
+Then McTurpin shouted, "Fifty-five!"
+
+Brannan waited for a moment. There were no more bids. "Sold to Benito
+Windham for fifty dollars," he announced.
+
+"Curse you!" cried the gambler, pushing forward, "you heard me bid
+higher, Sam Brannan!"
+
+Into his path stepped the tall figure of Robert Windham. "We are not
+taking bids from convicts," he said, loudly and distinctly.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+THE BEGINNING OF LAW
+
+McTurpin's look of blind astonishment at Windham's words was succeeded
+by a whitehot fury. Two eyes gleamed with snake-like venom and two spots
+of red glowed in his cheeks, as though each had felt the impact of a
+sudden blow. For a moment he neither moved nor spoke. Then a hand, which
+trembled slightly, made a lightning move toward his hip.
+
+"I wouldn't," drawled the voice of Robert Windham. His right hand,
+loosely in a pocket of his coat, moved slightly. "I've got you covered,
+Sydney Duck McTurpin ... if that's your real name."
+
+The other's hand fell at his side. The two men's glances countered, held
+each other, one calm, dignified, unafraid; the other, murderous,
+searching, baffled. Presently, McTurpin turned and strode away. Windham
+looked after the departing gambler. "'Fraid I've spoiled his morning,"
+he remarked to Nathan Spear.
+
+"Yes--to chance a knife or bullet in the back," retorted Spear,
+uneasily. Their further confidence was drowned in Brannan's
+exhortations: "On with the sale, boys," he shouted. "The side show's
+over ... with nobody hurt, thank Heaven! What'll you bid for a lot in
+the southern part of town? They're a hundred varas square--four times as
+big as the others. Not as central, maybe, but in ten years I bet they'll
+bring a thousand dollars. What's bid for a south lot, my hearties?"
+
+"Twenty-five dollars," said Inez Windham.
+
+"Oh, come, now, Senorita," cried the auctioneer, intriguingly,
+"twenty-five dollars for a hundred-vara lot. Have you no more faith in
+San Francisco?"
+
+"Its--all I have...." the girl spoke almost in a whisper.
+
+Brannan frowned. He looked about him threateningly. "Does anyone bid
+higher than Miss Windham?" he demanded. There was no response. Brannan's
+gavel fell, decisively. "Sold!" he cried, and half a dozen
+voices cheered.
+
+Inez Windham made her way to the auctioneer's stand and handed three
+banknotes to Alcalde Hyde. "But, my dear young lady," he expostulated,
+"you need only pay a fourth of the money down. Six dollars and a quarter
+is enough."
+
+"Oh," said Inez, "then I could have bought more, couldn't I!" She turned
+to Brannan, eagerly. "I could have bought four lots--if I'd only known."
+
+Brannan smiled at her. Then he turned to the crowd. "What d'ye say,
+boys, shall we let her have 'em?" he inquired. Instantly the answer
+came: "Yes, yes, give her the four. God bless her. She'll bring
+us luck."
+
+Impulsively, Inez mounted the platform; astonished at her own temerity,
+at the exuberance of some new freedom, springing from the barriers of a
+shielded life, she shouted at these strange, rough men about her: "Thank
+you, gentlemen!" Then her mother's look of horrified, surprise brought a
+sudden red into her cheeks. She turned and fled. Her father smiled,
+indulgently; Anita's frown changed presently into a look of whimsical,
+perplexed affection. "I am always forgetting, Inez mia," she said,
+softly, "that this is a new day--the day of the Americano."
+
+She watched Benito shouting bids at the side of Adrian, vying with such
+men as Howard, Mellus, Clark and Leidesdorff in the quest for lots.
+"Fifty of them have been sold already," Windham told her. "The auction
+will last three days because there are four hundred more."
+
+Suddenly, Anita Windham put forth a hand and touched that of her
+husband. "Buy one, for me, Roberto," she pleaded.
+
+"But--" he hesitated, "Anita carissima, what will you do with a
+rectangle of mire in this rough, unsettled place?"
+
+"For sentiment," she answered, softly, "in memory of my father, who had
+such abundant faith in San Francisco.... And, perhaps, Don Samuel is
+right. We may yet bless his name."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The summer of 1847 had passed. Inez Windham was the wife of Adrian
+Stanley. He had given up his school for larger matters. Every day his
+ox-teams struggled over sandy bottoms to the tune of snapping whips and
+picturesque profanity by Indian drivers. Men with shovels leveling the
+sand hills, piled the wagons high with shimmering white grains which
+were carried to the shore and dumped into pile-surrounded bogs till the
+tides left them high and dry. San Francisco reached farther and farther
+into the bay, wresting irregular nooks and corners from the
+ebbing-flowing waters, building rickety, improvised piers, sometimes
+washed out by the northers which unexpectedly came down with tempestuous
+fury. Quaint, haphazard buildings made their appearance, strange
+architectural mushrooms grown almost over night, clapboarded squares
+with paper or muslin partitions for inner walls. Under some the tides
+washed at their full and small craft discharged cargoes at their back
+doors. Ships came from Boston, Bremen, Sitka, Chile, Mexico, the
+Sandwich Islands, bringing all manner of necessities and luxuries.
+Monthly mails had been established between San Francisco and San Diego,
+as well as intermediate points, and there was talk of a pony express to
+Independence, Missouri.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There were many crimes of high and low degree, from rifled tills to dead
+men found half buried in the sands. Rumor told of thieves and murderers
+encamped in the hollow bowl of a great sandhill, where they slept or
+caroused by day, venturing forth only at night. Aleck McTurpin's name
+was now and then associated with them as a leader. Men were importing
+safes from the States and carrying derringers at night--even the
+peaceful Mormons. At this time Governor Mason addressed to Alcalde Hyde
+an order for the election of a Town Council.
+
+Adrian was full of these doings when he came home from an executive
+session before which he had appeared as an expert on reclamation. "They
+are good men, Inez," he declared, enthusiastically. "They'll bring law
+to San Francisco. And law is what we need more than all else, my dear."
+
+"And how will they go about it, with no prison-house, no courts or
+judges?" asked Inez, wonderingly.
+
+"Oh, those will soon be provided," he assured, "When there is a will for
+law the machinery comes." He smiled grimly. "McTurpin and his ilk had
+better look to themselves.... We are going after the gamblers."
+
+[Illustration:
+Men with shovels, leveling the sand-hills, piled the wagons high with
+shimmering grains which were dumped into pile-surrounded bogs. San
+Francisco reached farther and farther out into the bay.]
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+GOLD! GOLD! GOLD!
+
+San Francisco never could remember when the first rumor of gold reached
+it. Gold was to mean its transformation from a struggling town into a
+turbulent, riotous city, a mecca of the world's adventurers.
+
+Benito Windham, early in the spring of '48 brought home an echo of it
+from San Jose. One of Sutter's teamsters had exchanged a little pouch of
+golden grains for a flask of aguardiente. Afterward he had told of
+finding it in the tail-race of Marshall's mill on the south fork of the
+American River. Little credence had been given his announcements. In the
+south, near San Fernando Mission, gold had long ago been found, but not
+in sufficient quantities to allure the fortune hunter.
+
+"See, is it not pretty?" asked Benito, pouring out a handful of the
+shining stuff which he had purchased from the teamster.
+
+"Pretty, yes, but what's it worth?" asked Adrian, dubiously.
+
+"Some say it's true value is $16 for an ounce," responded Inez, her eyes
+shining. "Samuel Brannan had a letter from a member of his band who says
+they wash it from the river sand in pans."
+
+"Sam's skeptical, though," retorted Stanley. "And, as for me, I've a
+mine right here in San Francisco." He spoke enthusiastically. "Moving
+sandhills into the bay. Making a new city front out of flooded bogs!
+That's realism. Romance. And what's better, fortune! Isn't it, my girl?"
+
+Inez' eyes were proud. "Fortune, yes, and not a selfish one. For it is
+making others richer, San Francisco better."
+
+"Which is well enough for you," returned Benito with a hint of
+sullenness. "But I am tired of clerking for Ward & Smith at two dollars
+a day. There's no romance in that." With a quick, restless motion he ran
+the golden dust through his fingers again. "I hope they are true, these
+stories. And if they are--" he looked at the others challengingly, "then
+I'm off to the mines, muy pronto."
+
+"Come," said Stanley, "let us have a game of chess together." But
+Benito, with a muttered apology, left them and went out. San Francisco
+had streets now, since the O'Farrell survey's adoption by the council.
+The old Calle de Fundacion had become Dupont street and below it was
+Kearny street, named after the General and former Governor. To the west
+were parallel roads, scarcely worthy of the name of thoroughfares,
+christened in honor of Commodore Stockton, Surgeon Powell of the
+sloop-of-war Warren, Dr. Elbert Jones, Governor Mason, Chaplain
+Leavenworth, the present Alcalde, and George Hyde, the former one.
+Thomas Larkin, former counsel at Monterey, was also to be distinguished.
+East and west the streets had more haphazard names. Broadway and
+California were the widest, aside from the projected Market street,
+which would have a lordly breadth of 120 feet. Some were named after
+Presidents--Jackson, Washington and Clay.
+
+The council had authorized two long wharves, one at the foot of Clay
+street, 547 feet long. This was a great undertaking and had caused much
+discussion pro and con. But now it was almost completed and a matter of
+much civic pride. Large ships, anchored at its terminus, were
+discharging cargo, and thither Benito bent his course, head bent, hat
+pulled well down on his forehead, until a rousing slap on the back spun
+him around almost angrily. He looked into the wise and smiling eyes of
+Edward C. Kemble.
+
+"Well, lad," the editor of the _Californian Star_ accosted, "I hear
+you've been to San Jose. What's new up there, if I may ask you?"
+
+"Very little ... nothing," said Benito, adding, "save the talk of gold
+at Marshall's mill."
+
+"Pooh!" exclaimed the editor. "Marshall's mill, and Mormon island! One
+would think the famous fairy tale of El Dorado had come true."
+
+"You place no credence in it, then?" asked Benito, disappointed.
+
+"Not I," said Kemble. "See here," he struck one fist into the palm of
+another. "All such balderdash is bad for San Francisco. We're trying to
+get ahead, grow, be a city. Look at the work going on. That means
+progress, sustained stimulus. And along come these stories of gold
+finds. It's the wrong time. The wrong time, I tell you. It'll interfere.
+If we get folks excited they'll pull out for the hills, the wilderness.
+Everything'll stop here.... Then, bye and bye, they'll come
+back--busted! Mark my words, BUSTED! Is that business? No."
+
+He went off shaking his head sagely. Benito puzzled, half resentful,
+gazed after him. He abandoned the walk to the dock and returned with
+low-spirited resignation to his tasks at Ward & Smith's store.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For several months gold rumors continued to come. Citizens, fearing
+ridicule, perhaps, slipped unobtrusively out of town, to test their
+truth. Kemble was back from a trip to the so-called gold fields.
+Editorially, he made sport of his findings. He had seen feather-brained
+fortune-seekers gambling hopelessly with fate, suffering untold
+hardships for half the pay they could have gained from "honest labor."
+
+Now and then a miner, dirty and disheveled, came in ragged clothes to
+gamble or drink away the contents of a pouch of "dust." It was at first
+received suspiciously. Barkeepers took "a pinch for a drink," meaning
+what they could grasp with their fingers, and one huge-fisted man
+estimated that this method netted him three dollars per glass.
+
+San Francisco awoke to a famine in butcher-knives, pans and candles.
+Knives at first were used to gouge out auriferous rock, and soon these
+common household appurtenances brought as high as twenty-five dollars
+each. Candles ere long were the equivalent of dollars, and pans were
+cheap at five dollars each.
+
+Still San Francisco waited, though a constant dribble of departures made
+at last perceptible inroads on its population. Then, one May afternoon,
+the fat was in the fire.
+
+Samuel Brannan, who had been at his store in New Helvetia, rode through
+the streets, holding a pint flask of gold-dust in one hand, swinging his
+hat with the other, and whooping like a madman:
+
+"Gold! Gold! Gold! From the American River!"
+
+As if he had applied a torch to the hayrick of popular interest, San
+Francisco flamed with fortune-seeking ardor. Next morning many stores
+remained unopened. There were neither clerks nor proprietors. Soldiers
+fled from the garrison, and Lieutenant William T. Sherman was seen
+galloping northward with a provost guard to recapture a score of
+deserters. Children found no teacher at the new schoolhouse and for
+months its doors were barred. Cargoes, half-discharged, lay on the
+wharves, unwarehoused. Crews left en masse for the mines, and ships
+floated unmanned at anchor. Many of them never went to sea again.
+
+On every road a hegira of the gold-mad swept northward, many afoot, with
+heavy burdens, the more fortunate with horses and pack animals. Men,
+old, young, richly dressed and ragged--men of all conditions,
+races, nations.
+
+The end of May, in 1848, found San Francisco a manless Eden. Stanley,
+struggling with a few elderly Indians and squaws to carry on his work,
+bemoaned the madcap folly bitterly.
+
+[Illustration: Samuel Brannan rode through the streets, holding a pint
+flask of gold-dust in one hand ... and whooping like a madman: "Gold!
+Gold! Gold! From the American River!"]
+
+But Benito, with shining eyes, rode on to what seemed Destiny and
+Fortune. Ward & Smith's little shop lay far behind him. Even his sister
+and her busy husband. Before him beckoned Gold! The lure, adventure,
+danger of it, like a smiling woman. And his spirit stretched forth
+longing arms.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+THE QUEST OF FORTUNE
+
+By the end of June more than half of San Francisco's population had
+departed for the mines. They went by varied routes, mostly on horseback.
+Rowboats, which a month ago had sold for $50, were now bringing ten
+times that sum, for many took the river route to the gold fields. Others
+toiled their way through the hills and the Livermore Valley. The ferry
+across Carquinez Straits at Benicia, was thronged to the danger
+of sinking.
+
+Those who stayed at home awaited eagerly the irregular mails which
+straggled in from unsettled, unorganized, often inaccessible regions
+where men cut and slashed the bowels of the earth for precious metal, or
+waded knee-deep in icy torrents, washing their sands in shallow
+containers for golden residue. No letter had come from Benito to Inez or
+Adrian. But Robert Windham wrote from Monterey as follows:
+
+"My Children: Monterey is mad with the gold-lust, and our citizens are
+departing with a haste that threatens depopulation. Until recently we
+had small belief in the tales of sudden fortune started by the finds at
+Marshall's mill. Alcalde Colton dispatched a messenger to the American
+River on the 6th of June, and, though he has not returned, others have
+brought the news he was sent to gain. On the 12th a man came into town
+with a nugget weighing an ounce and all Monterey Buzzed with excitement.
+Everyone wanted to test it with acids and microscopes. An old woman
+brought her ring and when placed side by side, the metal seemed
+identical; it was also compared with the gold knob of a cane. Some
+declare it a humbug, but it is generally believed to be genuine gold.
+
+"Governor Mason, who has been messing with Alcalde Colton and a naval
+officer named Lieutenant Lanman, is now compelled to bake his own bread.
+The trio roast their coffee and cook what meals they eat. Even the negro
+who blacked their boots went gold hunting and returned after a few weeks
+with $2000.
+
+"Yesterday I met a rough-looking fellow who appeared to be starving. He
+had a sack on his shoulder in which was gold-dust and nuggets worth
+$15,000. You should have seen him a few hours later--all perfumed and
+barbered, with shiny boots; costly, ill-fitting clothes and a marvelous
+display of jewelry.
+
+"Alcalde Colton is going to the mines next month. He laughed when he
+told me of Henry Bee, the alguacil or jailor of San Jose. This man had
+charge of ten prisoners, some of whom were Indians, charged with murder.
+He tried to turn them over to the alcalde, but the latter was at the
+mines. So Bee took his prisoners with him. It is said their digging has
+already made him rich and that he'll let them loose. There is no one to
+chide him. And no one to care."
+
+Later in the day Sam Brannan and Editor Kemble looked in on the
+Stanleys. "It's sheer insanity!" exploded Kemble. "The soldiers have
+gone--left their wives and their children to starve. Even the church is
+locked. Governor Mason has threatened martial law in the mining regions,
+which are filled with cutthroats and robbers. It's said he contemplates
+giving furloughs of two or three months to the gold-fevered troops which
+remain. Was there ever such idiocy?"
+
+"You're wrong, Ed," Brannan told him. "This gold boom is the biggest
+thing that's ever happened. It'll bring the world to our door. Why,
+Mason has reported that gold enough's been taken from the mines already
+to pay for the Mexican war."
+
+"Bah!" cried Kemble, and stalked out muttering. Brannan laughed. "He's
+riding his hobby consistently. But he'll come down. So you've had no
+news from Benito?"
+
+"No," said Inez gloomily. "Perhaps it is too soon. Perhaps he has had no
+luck to tell us of as yet. But I wish he would write just a line."
+
+"Well, well, cheer up, my dear," said Brannan, reassuringly. "Benito can
+take care of himself. Next week I return to my store in the gold lands,
+and I'll have an eye out for the lad. How does your work go, Adrian?"
+
+"Poorly," answered Stanley. "Labor's too high to make money. Why, the
+common laborers who were satisfied with a dollar a day, now ask ten, and
+mechanics twenty. Even the Indians and the immigrants learn at once the
+crazy price of service."
+
+"San Francisco. Port o' Gold!" apostrophized the Mormon gaily. He went
+on his way with a friendly wave of the hand. His steps were bent toward
+Alcalde Hyde's headquarters. Hyde had made many enemies by his set,
+opinionated ways. There was talk of putting Rev. Thaddeus Leavenworth in
+his place. But Brannan was by no means certain this would solve the
+problem. He missed Leidesdorff sadly. The latter's sudden death had left
+a serious hiatus. He was used to talking problems over with the genial,
+hospitable Dane, whose counsel was always placid, well considered.
+
+Congress had failed to provide a government for California. San
+Francisco grumbled; more than all other towns she needed law.
+Stevenson's regiment had been disbanded; its many irresponsibles, held
+previously in check by military discipline, now indulged their bent for
+lawlessness, unstinted. Everything was confusion. Gold-dust was the
+legal tender, but its value was unfixed. The government accepted it at
+$10 per ounce, with the privilege of redemption in coin.
+
+The problem of land grants was becoming serious. There were more than
+hints of the alcalde's speculation; of illegal favors shown to friends,
+undue restrictions placed on others. Brannan shook his head as he
+climbed Washington street hill toward the alcalde's office. In the plaza
+stood a few mangy horses, too decrepit for sale to gold seekers.
+Gambling houses and saloons ringed the square and from these proceeded
+drunken shouts, an incessant click of poker chips; now and then a
+burst of song.
+
+The sound of a shot swung him swiftly about. It came from the door of a
+noisy and crowded mart of chance recently erected, but already the scene
+of many quarrels. The blare of music which had issued from it swiftly
+ceased. There was a momentary silence; then a sound of shuffling feet,
+of whispering voices.
+
+A man ran out into the street as if the devil were after him; another
+followed, staggering, a pistol in his hand. He fired one shot and then
+collapsed with horrid suddenness at Brannan's feet. The other man ran
+into Portsmouth Square, vaulted to the saddle of a horse and spurred
+furiously away.
+
+Brannan stooped over the fallen figure. It was that of a brawny, bearded
+man, red-shirted, booted, evidently a miner. That he was mortally
+wounded his gazing eyes gave evidence. Yet such was his immense vitality
+that he muttered, clutching at his throat--staving off dissolution with
+the mighty passionate vehemence of some dominating purpose. Brannan bent
+to listen.
+
+"Write," he gasped, and Brannan, with an understanding nod, obeyed. "I
+bequeath my claim ... south fork ... American River ... fifty feet from
+end of Lone Pine's shadow ... sunset ... to my pard ... Benito Wind--"
+His voice broke, but his eyes watched Brannan's movements as the latter
+wrote. Dying hands grasped paper, pencil ... signed a scrawling
+signature, "Joe Burthen." Then the head dropped back, rolled for a
+moment and lay still.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+NEWS OF BENITO
+
+Brannan turned from contemplation of the dead to find himself surrounded
+by a curious, questioning group. A bartender, coatless, red-faced,
+grasping in one hand a heavy bung-starter as if it were a weapon of
+defense; a gambler, sleeves rolled up, five cards clutched in nervous
+fingers; half a dozen sailors, vaqueros, a ragged miner or two and
+several shortskirted young women of the class that had recently drifted
+into the hectic night-life of San Francisco. All were whispering
+excitedly. Some of the men, with a show of reverence, removed
+their hats.
+
+"Do you know who did this?" Brannan asked.
+
+"I saw it," cried one of the women. She was dressed as a Spanish dancer
+and in one hand held a tambourine and castanets. "They fight," she gave
+a little smirk of vanity, "about me."
+
+Brannan recognized her as Rosa Terranza, better known as Ensenada Rose.
+She had been the cause of many rivalries and quarrels.
+
+"Dandy" Carter, the gambler, let down his sleeves and thrust the cards
+into his pocket.
+
+"Rose was dealin' faro," he explained, "and this galoot here bucks the
+game.... He lose. You un'erstan'. He lose a lot o' dust ... as much as
+forty ounces. Then--just like that--he stops." The gambler snapped his
+fingers. "He says, 'My little gal; my partner! God Almighty! I'm
+a-wrongin' them!' He starts to go, but Rose acts mighty sympathetic and
+he tells her all about the kid."
+
+"Hees little girl," the dancer finished. "I say we dreenk her health
+together, and he tell me of the senorita. He draw a picture of his claim
+with trees and river and a mountain--ver' fine, like an artist. And he
+say, 'You come and marry me and be a mother to my child'." She laughed
+grimly. "He was ver' much drunk ... and then--"
+
+"That Sydney Duck comes in," said Dandy Carter. "He sits down at the
+table with 'em. They begins to quarrel over Rose. And the fust I knows
+there was a gun went off; the girl yells and the other man vamooses,
+with this feller staggerin' after."
+
+"He shot from under the table," a sailor volunteered. "'Twas murder.
+Where I come from they'd a-hanged him for't."
+
+"But who was he?" Brannan asked the question in another form. The girl
+and Dandy Carter looked at one another, furtively. "I--don't know his
+name," the girl said, finally.
+
+"Don't any of you?" Brannan's tone was searching. But it brought no
+answer. Several shook their heads. Ensenada Rose shivered. "It's cold. I
+go back in," she said, and turned from them. Brannan stopped her with a
+sudden gesture. "Wait," he ordered. "Where's the map ... the paper this
+man showed you ... of his mine?"
+
+Ensenada Rose's eyes looked into Brannan's, with a note of challenge her
+chin went up. "Quien sabe?" she retorted. Brannan watched the slender,
+graceful figure vanish through the lighted door. In her trail the
+gambler and bartender followed. Presently a burst of music issued from
+the groggery; a tap-tap-tap of feet in rhythm to the click of castanets.
+Already the tragedy was forgotten. Brannan found himself face to face
+with the sailor. "I'll help you carry him--somewhere," he said. He
+raised the dead man's shoulders from the ground, and Brannan, following
+his suggestion, took the other end of the grim burden, which they bore
+to the City Hotel. Brannan, in the presence of Alcalde Hyde, searched
+Burthen's clothing for the plan which Rosa had described. But they did
+not find it; only a buckskin bag with a few grains of gold-dust at the
+bottom, a jackknife, a plug of tobacco, a scratched daguerreotype of a
+young girl with corkscrew curls and friendly eyes.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Next evening Nathan Spear chanced in to see the Stanleys. "Sam Brannan's
+gone," he told them. "Said he'd let you know about Benito. And here's a
+letter from Alcalde Colton of Monterey--who's at the gold-fields now."
+
+"Has he seen my brother?" Inez questioned, eagerly.
+
+Spear began to read: "Young Benito Windham has been near here for a
+fortnight. I am told, without much luck, He had to sell his horse and
+saddle, for the price of living is enormous; finally he paired off with
+a man named Burthen--strapping, bearded Kansan with a little daughter,
+about 17. They struck a claim, and Burthen's on the way to San Francisco
+for supplies. I'll tell you more when I have seen the lad and had a talk
+with him. The girl, I understand, was keeping house for them. A pretty,
+wistful little thing, they tell me, so I'd better keep an eye on
+Friend Benito."
+
+"Have you seen this Burthen? Is he here?" asked Stanley.
+
+"He was robbed--and killed last night at the Eldorado."
+
+"Sanctissima!" cried the girl, and crossed herself. "Then the little
+one's an orphan. And Benito--"
+
+"Her guardian, no doubt."
+
+Spear laughed. "He writes that a miner gave $24 in gold-dust for a box
+of seidlitz powders; another paid a dollar a drop for laudanum to cure
+his toothache. Flour is $400 per barrel, whisky $20 for a quart bottle,
+and sugar $4 a pound. 'It's a mad world, my masters,' as Shakespeare
+puts it, but a golden one. By and by this wealth will flow into your
+coffers down in San Francisco. Just now there is little disturbance, but
+it is bound to come. Several robberies and shootings have already taken
+place. There is one man whom I'd call an evil genius--a gambler, a
+handsome ruffian and a dead shot, so they tell me. It's rumored that he
+has a fancy for the little Burthen girl. Lord save her! Perhaps you
+know the rascal, for he hails, I understand, from San Francisco, one
+Alexander McTurpin."
+
+The three surveyed each other in a startled silence.
+
+"Benito and he are sure to quarrel," Inez whispered. "Madre Dolores!
+What can we do?"
+
+"Perhaps I'd better run up to the mines," said Adrian. "I've my own
+affair, you know, to settle with this fellow."
+
+"No, no, you must not," cried his wife in quick alarm.
+
+Spear smiled. "I wouldn't fret," he spoke assuringly. "Sam's gone up to
+see this fellow ... on a little business of his own."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+THE VEILED WOMAN
+
+Several months went by with no news from Benito. James Burthen had been
+buried in the little graveyard on a hill overlooking the bay. And that
+ended the matter in so far as San Francisco was concerned.
+
+In the Alta California, a consolidation of two rival papers, appeared a
+brief notice chronicling the death of an unidentified miner, whose
+assassin, also nameless, had escaped. Ensenada Rose, described as an
+exotic female of dubious antecedents and still more suspicious motives,
+had left the Eldorado on the morning after the shooting "for parts
+unknown." She was believed to hold some "key to the tragic mystery which
+it was not her purpose to reveal."
+
+But killings were becoming too familiar in the growing town to excite
+much comment. San Francisco's population had quadrupled in the past half
+year and men were streaming in by the hundreds from all quarters of the
+globe. Flimsy bunk-houses were hastily erected, springing up as if by
+magic overnight. Men stood in long lines for a chance at these sorry
+accommodations and the often sorrier meals which a score of enterprising
+culinary novices served at prices from one dollar up. Lodging was $30
+per month and at this price men slept on naked boards like sailors in a
+forecastle, one above the other. Often half a dozen pairs of blankets
+served a hundred sleepers. For as soon as a guest of these palatial
+hostelries began to snore the enterprising landlord stripped his body of
+its covering and served it to a later arrival.
+
+"If the town grows much faster it will be a tragedy," remarked Adrian
+to James Lick that afternoon. Lick had bought a city lot at Montgomery
+and Jackson streets and had already sold a portion of it for $30,000. He
+was a believer in San Francisco's future, and at San Jose his flour
+mill, once contemptuously called "Lick's folly," was grinding grain
+which at present prices brought almost its weight in gold.
+
+"Things always right themselves, my boy," he said. "Don't worry. Keep
+pegging away at your sand lots. Some day you'll be a millionaire."
+
+"But half of these people are homeless. And every day they come faster.
+In our neighborhood are a dozen ramshackle tents where these poor devils
+keep 'bachelors' hall' with little more than a skillet and a coffee pot.
+They call it 'ranching.'" He laughed. "What would our old land barons
+have thought of a rancho four by six feet, which the first of our trade
+winds will blow into the bay?"
+
+"The Lord," said Lick, devoutly, "tempers the wind to the shorn lamb.
+And also to the homeless squatter on our sandy shores."
+
+"I hope you're right," responded Stanley. "It does me good to hear
+someone speak of God in this godless place. It is full of thieves and
+cut-throats; they've a settlement at the base of the hill overlooking
+Clark's Point. No man's life is safe, they tell me, over there."
+
+Lick frowned. "They call it Sydney Town because so many Australian
+convicts have settled in it. Some day we'll form a citizens' committee
+and run them off."
+
+"Which reminds me," Lick retorted, "that McTurpin came to town this
+morning. With a veiled woman ... or girl. She looks little more than
+a child."
+
+Adrian surveyed the other, startled. "Child?" His mind was full of vague
+suspicions.
+
+"Well, she didn't weigh more than a hundred. Yes, they came--both on one
+horse, and the fellow's companion none too well pleased, I should say.
+Frightened, perhaps, though why she should be is a puzzle." Lick
+shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Has he taken the girl to his--the ranch?" asked Adrian.
+
+"Don't know. I reckon not," Lick answered. "They ate at the City Hotel.
+He'd a bag full of dust, so he'll gamble and guzzle till morning most
+likely." He regarded his friend keenly, a trifle uneasily. "Come, Adrian
+... I'll walk past your door with you."
+
+"I'm not going home just yet, thanks," Stanley's tone was nervously
+evasive.
+
+"Well, good-night, then," said the other with reluctance. He turned
+south on Kearny street toward his home. Stanley, looking after him,
+stood for a moment as if undetermined. Then he took his way across the
+Plaza toward the City Hotel.
+
+In the bar, a long and low-ceiling room, talk buzzed and smoke from many
+pipes made a bluish, acrid fog through which, Adrian, standing in the
+doorway, saw, imperfectly, a long line of men at the bar. Others sat at
+tables playing poker and drinking incessantly, men in red-flannel
+shirts, blue denim trousers tucked into high, wrinkled boots. They wore
+wide-brimmed hats, and cursed or spat with a fervor and vehemence that
+indicated enjoyment. Adrian presently made out the stocky form of
+McTurpin, glass upraised. Before him on the bar were a fat buckskin bag
+and a bottle. He was boasting of his luck at the mines.
+
+A companion "hefted" the treasure admiringly. "Did you make it gamblin',
+Alec?" he inquired.
+
+"No, by Harry!" said the other, tartly. "I'm no gambler any more. I'm a
+respectable gentleman with a mine and a ranch," he emptied his glass
+and, smacking his lips, continued, "and a beautiful young girl that
+loves me ... loves me. Understand?" His hand came down upon the other's
+shoulder with a sounding whack.
+
+"Where is she?" asked the other, coaxingly. "You're a cunning hombre,
+Alec. Leave us have a look at her, I say."
+
+"Bye and bye," McTurpin spoke more cautiously. "Bye and bye ... then you
+can be a witness to the marriage, Dave." He drew the second man aside
+across the room, so near to Adrian that the latter stepped back to avoid
+discovery.
+
+"She's a respectable lass," he heard McTurpin whisper. "Yes, it's marry
+or nothing with her ... and I'm willing enough, the Lord knows. Can ye
+find me a preacher, old fellow?"
+
+He could not make out the other's reply. Their voices died down to an
+imperceptible whisper as they moved farther away. Stanley thought they
+argued over something. Then the man called Dave passed him and went
+swiftly up the hill.
+
+Vaguely troubled, Stanley returned to the veranda. It was unoccupied for
+chilly evening breezes had driven the loungers indoors. Absently he
+paced the creaking boards and, having reached a corner of the building,
+continued his promenade along what seemed to be the rear of the
+building. Here a line of doors opened on the veranda like the upper
+staterooms of a ship.
+
+Why should he trouble his mind about McTurpin and a paramour? thought
+Adrian. Yet his thought was curiously disturbed. Something Spear had
+read from a letter vexed him dimly like a memory imperfectly recalled.
+What was there about McTurpin and a child? Whose child? And what had it
+to do with the veiled woman who had ridden with the gambler from the
+mines. Impishly the facts eluded him. Inez would know. But Inez must not
+be bothered just now--at this time.
+
+He paused and listened. Was that a woman sobbing? Of course not. Only
+his nerves, his silly sentiment. He would go home and forget the
+whole thing.
+
+There it was again. This time he could not be mistaken. Noiselessly he
+made his way toward the sound. It stopped. But presently it came again.
+From where? Ah, yes, the window with a broken pane.
+
+Soft, heartbroken, smothered wailing. Spasms of it. Then an interlude of
+silence. Adrian's heart beat rapidly. He tip-toed to the window, tried
+the door beside it. Locked. After a moment's hesitation he spoke,
+softly: "Is someone in trouble?"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+A CALL IN THE NIGHT
+
+There was no answer. For a second time Adrian's mind fought a belief
+that sense had tricked him. Now and then a shout from the bar-room
+reached him as he waited, listening. The wind whistled eerily through
+the scant-leaved scrub-oaks on the slopes above.
+
+But from the room at the window of which he listened there came no
+sound.
+
+Adrian felt like one hoaxed, made ridiculous by his own sentimentality.
+He strode on. But when he reached the farther corner some involuntary
+impulse turned him back. And again the sound of muffled sobbing came to
+him from the open window--fainter now, as though an effort had been made
+to stifle it.
+
+Once more he spoke: "I say, what's the trouble in there? Can I help?"
+
+Almost instantly a face appeared against the pane--a tear-stained face,
+terrified and shrinking.
+
+"Oh!" said a voice unsteady with weeping. "Oh! sir, if there is a heart
+in your breast you will help me to escape--to find my father."
+
+Her tone, despite agitation, was that of extreme youth. She was not of
+the class that frequent gambling halls. Both her dress and her manner
+proclaimed that. Adrian was perplexed. "Are you--" he hesitated, fearing
+to impart offense, "are you the girl who came with McTurpin?"
+
+"Yes, yes," she spoke hurriedly. "He told me my father was ill. He
+promised to take me to him. Instead, he locked me in this room. He
+threatened--oh! he is a monster! Will you help me? Do you know my
+father, sir?"
+
+"What is his name?" asked Stanley.
+
+"Burthen, sir, James Burthen," she replied, and fell once more to
+sobbing helplessly. "Oh, if I were only out of here."
+
+Stanley pressed his weight against the door. He was thinking rapidly. So
+this was the daughter of Benito's partner--the murdered miner of the
+Eldorado tragedy. He recalled the letter from Colton; the hint of
+McTurpin's infatuation and its menace. Things became clear to him
+suddenly. The door gave as he pressed his knee against it. Presently the
+flimsy lock capitulated and he walked into the room. The girl shrank
+back against the farther wall at his approach.
+
+"Oh, come," he said, a trifle testily, "I'm not going to hurt you. Get
+on your hat. I'll see you're taken care of. I'll place you in charge
+of my wife."
+
+"And my father," she begged. "You'll take me to him?"
+
+"Yes, yes, your father," he agreed in haste. "But first you'll come home
+with me."
+
+She snatched up a hat and shawl from the commode, and, with hurried
+movements rearranged her hair; then she followed him submissively into
+the gathering dusk, shrinking close as if to efface herself whenever
+they passed anyone. The streets were full of men now, mostly bound from
+hotels, lodging houses and tents to the Eldorado and kindred resorts.
+Many of them ogled her curiously, for a female figure was a rarity in
+nocturnal San Francisco.
+
+They passed dimly lighted tents in which dark figures bulked grotesquely
+against canvas walls. In one a man seemed to be dancing with a large
+animal which Stanley told her was a grizzly bear.
+
+"They have many queer pets," he said. "One of my neighbors keeps a pet
+coon, and in another tent there are a bay horse, two dogs, two sheep
+and a pair of goats. They sleep with their master like a happy family."
+
+"It is all so strange," said the girl, faintly. "In the East my father
+was a lawyer; we had a good house and a carriage; everything was so
+different from--this. But after my mother died, he grew restless. He
+sold everything and came to this rough, wild country. None of his old
+friends would know him now, with his beard, his boots and the horrible
+red flannel shirt."
+
+Adrian made no reply. He was thinking of the tragic news which must ere
+long be told to Burthen's daughter. For a time they strode along in
+silence--until Stanley paused before an open door. Against the inner
+light which streamed through it into the darkness of the street a
+woman's figure was outlined.
+
+"Well, here we are, at last," said Adrian. "And my wife's in the doorway
+waiting to scold me for being so late."
+
+Inez ran to meet him. "I have been anxious," she declared. She noted her
+husband's companion, and stepped back, startled. "Adrian, who is this?"
+
+"A daughter of the mur----" Adrian began. He broke the telltale word in
+two: "Of James Burthen--Benito's partner."
+
+"Ah, then you know my brother," Inez hailed her eagerly. She took the
+girl's hands in her own and pressed them. "You must tell us all about
+him--quickly. We have waited long for news."
+
+"You are--Mr. Windham's sister?" cried the girl almost incredulously.
+Then, with a swift abandonment to emotion she threw her arms about the
+elder woman's neck and sobbed.
+
+Stanley followed them into the house. He saw Inez supporting her
+companion, soothing her in those mysterious ways which only women know.
+His mind was stirred with grave perplexities.
+
+A peremptory knock aroused him from his cogitations. Could it be the
+gambler so soon? He thought there were voices. Several men, no doubt.
+
+Inez called out in a whisper, "Who is there?"
+
+"Go back," her husband ordered. "It's all right, dear. They're friends
+of mine."
+
+Inez came out quickly and stood beside him, looking up into his face.
+"You're sure? There's no--no danger?"
+
+Again the rat-tat-tat upon the panel, more peremptory than before.
+Stanley forced a laugh. "Danger! Why, of course not. Just a business
+talk. But go back and look after the girl. I don't want her coming out
+here while I've visitors." He patted her hand. His arm about her
+shoulder he ushered her across the threshold of the inner chamber and
+closed the door. Then he extinguished the lamp. Hand on pistol he felt
+his way toward the outer portal and, with a sudden movement flung it
+wide. Three men stood on the threshold. They seemed puzzled by the
+darkness. Out of it the host's voice spoke: "Who are you? What do
+you wish?"
+
+William Henry Brown was first to answer him. "We want you, Adrian, at
+the hotel. Can you come now--quickly?"
+
+"What for?" he asked suspiciously. "Who sent you here?"
+
+"Nobody," came the cheery voice of Dr. Jones. "There's a friend of yours
+at Brown's who needs you."
+
+"You mean--McTurpin?
+
+"Damn McTurpin!" spoke the third voice. It was Nathan Spear's. "Light
+your lamp. Nobody's going to shoot you, Stanley.... It's young Benito
+from the mines and down with fever. He's calling for you ... and for a
+girl named Alice.... If you can pacify him--that will help a lot. He's
+pretty low."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+OUTFACING THE ENEMY
+
+"Wait," said Adrian, hurriedly. He relighted the lamp and, going to the
+inner door, called softly. There was an agitated rustle; then the door
+swung back and Stanley saw the figure of his wife, beside whom stood the
+light-haired girl.
+
+"What is it, Adrian?"
+
+"There's someone sick at Brown's Hotel," said Adrian, "a friend of mine.
+I'm going over there." He made a sign imposing silence on the men.
+
+Inez came close. "You're certain it's no trick," she whispered, "it's
+not McTurpin's scheme to--"
+
+"No, no," he assured her hastily. "I'm sure of that." He seized his hat
+and coat. "Put down the window shades and answer no one's knock till I
+return." He kissed her and without more ado joined the men outside. He
+heard the door shut and lock click into place.
+
+For a time the quartette strode along in silence; then Brown spoke, as
+if the thought had been long on his lips, "Wasn't that--the girl
+McTurpin brought to town?"
+
+"Yes," said Adrian tersely, "it was she."
+
+Brown made no immediate response; he seemed to be digesting Adrian's
+remark. Finally he burst out, "If it's any of my business, what's she
+doing--there?"
+
+"She asked for help," retorted Stanley. He related the incident of the
+veranda. Spear laughed meaningly. "That's the second one you've taken
+from McTurpin; he'll be loving you a heap, old man."
+
+"He doesn't know it yet," Brown said. "But keep out of his way
+tomorrow."
+
+Stanley's teeth met with a little click. "When I've seen Benito, Alec
+McTurpin and I will have a showdown. But tell me of the boy. What
+brought him here?"
+
+"The missing girl, of course," said Dr. James. "He's daft about her.
+Alice Burthen ... that's her name, isn't it?"
+
+Stanley was about to make some rejoinder when they passed two men, one
+of whom looked at them curiously. He was McTurpin's companion of the
+bar-room episode. "Who's that?" asked Spear as Brown saluted the pair.
+
+"That's Reverend Wheeler, the new Baptist parson."
+
+"Yes, yes, I know. But the other one?"
+
+"Ned Gasket ... he's a friend of Dandy Carter's at the Eldorado."
+
+"And a Sydney Duck, I guess," the doctor added.
+
+"Do your own guessing, friend," said Brown, impatiently.
+
+Spear sighed. "We'll have to do more than guess about that stripe of
+citizen if we want law and order. It will take a rope I fear," he
+finished grimly.
+
+Brown led them round the back to a room not far from the one which had
+held Alice Burthen.
+
+"It's quieter here," he explained. "They get noisy sometimes along about
+midnight." He opened the door and struck a sulphur match by whose weird
+flicker they made out a bed with a tossing figure upon it. Adrian
+crossed over and took the nervous clutching hands within his own
+firm clasp.
+
+"Benito," he said. "Don't you know me? It's Adrian!"
+
+Brown with a lighted lamp came nearer, so that Stanley saw the
+sufferer's eyes. They were incognizant of realities. The murmuring voice
+droned on, fretfully, "I've looked for her everywhere. She's
+gone! gone!"
+
+Suddenly he cried out: "Alice! Alice!" half rising. But he tumbled back
+upon the pillow with a swift collapse of weakness and his words waned
+into mumbled incoherence.
+
+"Benito," Adrian addressed him earnestly, "Alice is with me. With me and
+Inez. She's safe. I'll bring her to you in the morning. Do you
+understand?"
+
+"With you--with Inez?" the sick man repeated. "Then tell her to come. I
+want her. Tell Alice to come--"
+
+"Tomorrow," Dr. Jones said, soothingly, "when you've had a chance to
+rest."
+
+"No, tonight," the fevered eyes stared up at them imploringly. Jones
+drew Adrian aside. "Pretend you'll do it or hell wear himself out. Then
+go. I'll give him something that will make him sleep." He emptied a
+powder in a tumbler of water and held it out to the sick man. "Drink
+this," he ordered, "it'll give you strength to see Miss Burthen."
+
+Benito's lips obediently quaffed the drink. His head lay quieter upon
+the pillow. Slowly, as they watched, the eyelids closed.
+
+"And now," said Adrian when he had assured himself that Benito slept,
+"I'm going for McTurpin."
+
+"Don't be a confounded fool," Dr. Jones said quickly.
+
+But Stanley paid no heed. He went directly into the saloon and looked
+about him. At a table, back toward him, sat a stocky figure, playing
+cards and reaching for the rum container at his side. Adrian stood a
+moment, musing; then his right hand slid down to his hip; a forward
+stride and the left hand fell on the player's shoulder.
+
+"We meet once more, McTurpin."
+
+The gambler rose so suddenly that the stool on which he sat rolled over.
+His face was red with wine and rage. His fingers moved toward an
+inner pocket.
+
+"Don't," said Adrian meaningly. The hand fell back.
+
+"What do you want?" the gambler growled.
+
+"A quiet talk, my friend. Come with me."
+
+"And, suppose I refuse?" the other sneered.
+
+"Oh, if you're afraid--" began Adrian.
+
+McTurpin threw his cards upon the table. Between him and a man across
+the board flashed a swift, unspoken message. "I'm at your service,
+Mr.--ah--Stanley."
+
+He led the way out, and Adrian following, gave a quick glance backward,
+noting that the man across the table had arisen. What he did not see was
+that Spear hovered in the offing, following them with watchful eyes.
+
+Toward the north they strolled, past a huddle of tents, for the most
+part unlighted. From some came snores and through many a windblown flap,
+the searching moonlight revealed sleeping figures. On a waste of
+sand-dunes McTurpin paused.
+
+"Now tell me what ye want," he snarled, "and be damned quick about it.
+I've small time to waste with meddlers."
+
+"On this occasion," Stanley said, "you'll take the time to note the
+following facts, Mr. McTurpin, Mr. Pillsworth--or whatever your true
+name may be--I've had a talk with Dandy Carter. He recognized you and
+Gasket when Burthen was killed, in spite of your beard. So did Rosa, of
+course, though she skipped the next morning. The Burthen girl is at my
+house." He paused an instant, thinking that he heard a movement in a
+bush nearby. "Well, that's all," he finished, "except this: If I find
+you here tomorrow, Alec McTurpin, murderer, card-sharp and abductor,
+I'll shoot you down like a dog."
+
+And then, with a splendid piece of bravery, he turned his back on the
+gambler, walking away with never a backward glance. He did not go
+directly home, but walked for an indeterminate interval till his spirit
+was more calm.
+
+The house was dark. Inez had obeyed him by leaving no trace of light.
+Doubtless by now they had retired. Suddenly he started, peered more
+closely at the door he was about to enter.
+
+It was slightly ajar. On the threshold, as he threw it open, Adrian
+found a lace-edged handkerchief. His wife's.
+
+Filled with quick foreboding, he called her name. His voice sounded
+hollow, strange, as if an empty house. Tremblingly he struck a light and
+searched the inner room. The bed had not been slept in. There was no one
+to be seen.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+SHOTS IN THE DARK
+
+Frantically Adrian ran out into the darkness, crying his wife's name.
+His thought went, with swift apprehension, over the events of recent
+hours. The villainous face of Ned Gasket passed before his memory
+mockingly; the meaning look McTurpin gave his henchman at the gaming
+table. Finally, with double force, that movement in the bushes as he
+told the gambler of his former captive's whereabouts. By what absurd
+imprudence had he laid himself thus open to the scoundrel's swift
+attack? What farther whimsy of an unkind Fate had prompted his
+long walk?
+
+Sudden fury flamed in Stanley's heart; it steadied him. The twitching
+fingers on the pistol in his pocket relaxed into a calm and settled
+tension. With long strides he made his way toward Brown's hotel.
+
+There was death in his eyes; men who caught their gleam beneath a
+lamplight, hastily avoided him. That Inez--at this time--should have
+been taken from her home, abducted, frightened or harassed, was the sin
+unpardonable. For it he meant to exact a capital punishment. The law,
+just then, meant to him nothing; only the primitive instinct of an
+outraged man controlled his mind.
+
+At the bar he paused. "Where's McTurpin, where's Gasket?" he demanded,
+harshly.
+
+The bartender observed him with suspicion and uneasiness. "Don't know.
+Haven't seen 'em since they started out with you," he answered.
+
+Stanley left the room without another word.
+
+He struck across the Plaza, entering the Eldorado gambling house. There
+he ordered a drink, gulped it, made, more quietly, a survey of the room.
+He scanned the players carefully. Spear sat at one of the tables, toying
+with a pile of chips and stroking his chin reflectively as he surveyed
+three cards.
+
+"Give me two. Hello, there, Adrian. Good Lord! what's up?"
+
+"Have you seen McTurpin or his friend, Ned Gasket?" He tried to speak
+quietly.
+
+A miner at another table leaned forward. "Try the stalls, pard," he
+whispered, while his left eyelid descended meaningly.
+
+"Wait," cried Spear and laid his cards down hastily. But Adrian was
+already on his way. At the rear were half a dozen small compartments
+where visitors might drink in semi-privacy with women who frequented
+the place.
+
+Adrian made the round of them, flinging aside each curtain as he went.
+Some greeted him with curses for intruding; some with invitations. But
+he did not find the men he sought, until the last curtain was thrown
+back. There sat Gasket and McTurpin opposite Ensenada Rose. She looked
+up impudently as Adrian entered. Into the gambler's visage sprang a
+quick surprise and fear. Instantly he blew out the lamp.
+
+A pistol spoke savagely almost in Adrian's face. He staggered, clasping
+one hand to his head. Something warm ran down his cheek and the side of
+his neck. He felt giddy, stunned. But a dominant impulse jerked his own
+revolver into position and he shot twice--as rapidly as he could operate
+the weapon. The narrow space was chokingly filled with acrid vapor.
+Somewhere a woman screamed; then came a rush of feet.
+
+It seemed to Adrian he had stood for hours in a kind of stupor when a
+light was brought. Gasket lay, his head bowed over on the table and an
+arm flung forward. He was dead. On the floor was a lace mantilla.
+
+Spear reached Adrian's side ahead of the others. "I heard him shoot
+first," he said, so that all might hear him. "Are you hit?"
+
+Adrian's hand went once more to his cheek. "Just a furrow," he said and
+smiled a trifle dazedly. "He fired straight into my face."
+
+"By Harry! He must have. Your cheek's powder-marked," cried Brannan,
+running up and holding the lamp for a better view. "See that, gentlemen?
+They tried to murder Mr. Stanley. This is self-defense. Who fired
+at you?"
+
+"This fellow!" Adrian indicated the sprawled figure. "Must have been. I
+shot at the flash from his gun; then I aimed at McTurpin. I missed him,
+probably."
+
+"Not so sure of that," said Brown, who had come running from his
+hostelry across the square. "Look, here's blood on the floor. A
+trail--let's follow it. Either McTurpin or the woman was hit."
+
+"I tried to avoid her," Adrian said. "I--hope I didn't--"
+
+"Never mind. You were attacked. They're all of a parcel," cried a man
+who wore the badge of a constable. "We've had our eyes on the three of
+them a long time. This fellow," he indicated Gasket, "was one of the
+crowd suspected of the Warren murders. He's the one who killed old
+Burthen. Dandy Carter let it out tonight; he's half delirious. We'd have
+strung him up most probably, if you hadn't--"
+
+"Come," urged Brannan, "let us follow this trail to the wounded. Perhaps
+he or she needs assistance." He held the lamp low, tracing the dark
+spots across an intervening space to the rear entrance; thence to a
+hitching rack where several horses still were tethered. "They mounted
+here," the constable decided. "One horse probably. No telling which it
+was that got the bullet."
+
+Adrian was conscious, suddenly, that his hand still held the pistol. He
+flung it from him with a gesture of repulsion.
+
+"My wife!" he said faintly, "Inez!"
+
+"What d'ye mean?" asked Spear.
+
+"Talk up, man. What's wrong?"
+
+"She's gone--abducted," Stanley answered. "Who'll lend me a horse. I
+must find McTurpin. He knows--"
+
+Unexpectedly Spear complicated matters. "You're mistaken, Stanley. I
+followed when you and he took your walk together. I suspected
+treachery--when Gasket sneaked along behind. I had McTurpin covered when
+you turned your back on him. He came here after that. Both of them have
+been here all the evening."
+
+Stanley put his hand to his head with a bewildered gesture.
+
+"Good God! Then where--? What has become of them?"
+
+"Maybe they got wind of Benito's presence. Maybe they're with him. Let's
+see."
+
+They hurried back to the City Hotel.
+
+"The room's dark," Spear lighted a taper and they softly opened the
+door. Benito slept; beside him drowsed a red-shirted miner slumped upon
+a chair. Adrian shook him, whispering, "Where's Doctor Jones?"
+
+"Don't know," muttered the watcher, sleepily. "This yere is his busy
+night I reckon. Asked me to look after this galoot. Feed him four
+fingers of that pizen if he woke."
+
+His head drooped forward and a buzzing sound came from his open mouth.
+Once more Adrian shook him.
+
+"Didn't he say anything about his destination?"
+
+"His which, pard?"
+
+"Where he was bound," the young man said half angrily.
+
+This time the other sat up straighter. For the first time he really
+awoke and took intelligent cognizance of the situation.
+
+"Now I come to think on it, he's bound for the hill over yonder. Woman
+named Briones come for him at a double quick. Good lookin' Spanish
+wench. She took him by the arm commandin' like. 'You come along,' she
+says and picks up his medicine chest. 'Don't stop for yer hat.' And he
+didn't." He winked heavily, chuckling at the reminiscence.
+
+"Then it isn't Juana Briones that's ill. Perhaps it's her husband."
+
+"Has she got a husband?" asked the miner, disappointedly. "No, I reckon
+'twant him. 'Twas a woman name o' Stanley. I remember now--Goin' to
+have a bebby."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+THE NEW ARRIVAL
+
+"Take my horse," said Brannan, hurriedly. "I'll stay here with Benito."
+He bundled the excited Stanley and Nathan Spear out of the room, where
+Benito still slept under the spell of the doctor's opiate. "You, too,"
+he told the miner, "you've had too much red liquor to play the nurse."
+He closed the door after them.
+
+The young contractor spoke first. "By the eternal, I never thought of
+that! I'm glad she had a woman with her."
+
+He spurred his horse toward Telegraph, Hill, as it had begun to be
+known, since signals were flashed from its crest, announcing the arrival
+of vessels. Down its farther slope was the little rancho of Dona
+Briones, where Inez in her extremity had sought the good friend of her
+childhood.
+
+Adrian's thought leaped forward into coming years. Inez and he together,
+always together as the years passed. And between them a son--intuitively
+he felt that it would be a son--a successor, taking up their burdens as
+they laid them down; bearing their name, their ideals, purposes along,
+down the pageant of time.
+
+He paid little heed as they passed through a huddle of huts, tents and
+lean-tos on the southern ascent. Though the hour was late, many windows
+were light and sounds of revelry came dimly, as though muffled, from
+curtain-hid interiors. There was something furtive and ill-omened about
+this neighborhood which one sensed rather than perceived. Spear rode
+close and touched Adrian's arm.
+
+"Sydney town," he whispered, meaningly. "The hang-out of our convict
+citizens from Australia, those eastern toughs and plug-uglies of the
+Seventh regiment who came here to feather their nests. Do you know what
+they've done? Formed a society called The Hounds. Appropriate, isn't it?
+Your friend McTurpin's one of them. Thanks to you, they've lost a
+valued member."
+
+"Hounds?" said Adrian. His thought still forged ahead. "Oh, yes, I've
+heard about them. They are going to drive out the foreigners."
+
+"Loot them, more likely," Spear returned, disgustedly; "then us, if we
+don't look out. Mark my word, they'll give us trouble. Alcalde
+Leavenworth's too careless by half."
+
+Stanley, paying scant attention, suddenly leaned forward in his saddle.
+At one of the windows a curtain was drawn back; a woman's face appeared
+for a moment silhouetted against inner light; then as swiftly withdrew.
+
+"Who was that?" asked Adrian, involuntarily reining in his mount.
+"Not--"
+
+"Rosa Terranza," said Spear excitedly.
+
+They listened. From within the tent-house came a sound of hasty
+movements, whispering. The light winked out. A bolt was shot;
+then silence.
+
+"I'll bet, by Jupiter, McTurpin's there," cried Adrian.
+
+"And that he's hurt," Spear added. "What shall we do?"
+
+"Let them be," decided Stanley, clucking to his horse. "My duty's
+ahead." He took the steep pitch of the hillside almost at a gallop and
+soon they were descending again into that little settlement of waterside
+and slope called North Beach. Juana Briones' place had been its pioneer
+habitation. Her hospitable gate stood always invitingly open. Through
+the branches of a cypress lights could be seen. The front door stood
+ajar and about it were whispering women. Adrian's heart leaped. Was
+something amiss? He dismounted impetuously, throwing the reins to an
+Indian who had come out evidently to do them service. Spear followed as
+he rushed through the door. There stood Dona Briones, finger on lip,
+demanding silence. Her face was grave.
+
+"How--how is she? How is Inez?" Adrian stammered.
+
+"The doctor's with her. Everything will be all right, I think. But make
+no noise. Go in that room and sit down."
+
+Adrian threw up his hands. "My God, woman! How can I sit still
+when--when--?"
+
+"Walk up and down, then," said Juana, "but take off your shoes."
+
+Which Adrian finally did. It seemed to him that he had paced the tiny
+chamber a thousand times. He heard movements, voices in the next room;
+now and then his wife's moan and the elder woman's soothing accents.
+Then a silence which seemed century long, a silence fraught with
+unimaginable terror. It was broken by a new sound, high pitched, feeble,
+but distinct; the cry of a child. Helplessly Adrian subsided into a
+chair beside Nathan Spear. "Do you hear that?" he asked, mopping
+his forehead.
+
+"Yes, I heard it," said the other non-committally.
+
+"I can't stand this any longer," Adrian exclaimed. "I'm going in there.
+I--I've got to know--"
+
+He rose, determinedly, shaking off Spear's detaining arm. In the doorway
+stood Dr. Jones. Again came the tiny cry. "It's a boy," said the medico,
+and held out his hand.
+
+But Adrian caught him by the shoulders. "My wife?" he asked. "How is
+she? Is there any--"
+
+"Danger? No, it's over," said the doctor. "Sit down and calm yourself."
+
+Adrian relaxed a trifle. Finally his set face softened; he laughed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was the evening of July 14, 1849. Stanley stood over the cradle of
+his son, looking worshipfully down at the tiny sleeping face. Inez
+Stanley, busied with the varied tasks of motherhood, came and stood for
+a moment beside him. She voiced that platitude of wives and mothers in
+their pride: "He looks just like you, Adrian."
+
+Stanley put his hands upon her shoulders. "Got your mouth, your big
+eyes," he said, and kissed her.
+
+They were wont to quarrel tenderly over this. But tonight Inez looked
+seriously up at her husband. Suddenly she hid her face upon
+his shoulder.
+
+"If only--if only--" she whispered, "he wouldn't grow up. And we
+wouldn't grow old."
+
+Stanley's fingers on her hair stroked gently. "Life is life, my dear,"
+he said at last. "Let us not question the inexorable too deeply.
+Yesterday is gone, you know. Tomorrow never comes.... And here we are
+together in the best town in the world. With love, good prospects ...
+our little Francisco--"
+
+"He will live to see a great city," said Inez, comforted. "He will help
+to make it." Her eyes were prophetic. The child stirred and hastily they
+withdrew, lowering the light so that his slumber might be undisturbed. A
+light tap sounded at the door and Adrian answered.
+
+Spear and Brannan with Benito stood upon the threshold. The latter
+entered, kissed his sister and was shown the sleeping child. "How is
+Alice?" Inez asked.
+
+"Well. And the best little wife in the world," Benito answered. His eyes
+glowed happily. "The tiny Francisco is growing like a weed. Only ten
+months old--"
+
+"Nine months, two weeks and three days," said his mother, glibly. "Won't
+you all come in and see the baby?" she invited.
+
+"No," Spear answered. "We must steal your husband for a' little while.
+There's business at the City Hall...."
+
+"Adrian's become a prominent citizen, you know," he added at her look of
+pouting protest.
+
+She brought her husband's hat. "Don't be long," she urged, and smiled a
+good-bye from the threshold. When he heard the door shut, Adrian turned
+on Brannan. "What's up?"
+
+"Plenty," said the other meaningly. "The Hounds have broken out. They
+looted Little Chili about dark tonight and one of them was shot. They
+threaten to burn the foreign quarter. They're arming. There's
+trouble afoot."
+
+"And what do you want of me?" Stanley questioned.
+
+"Damn it! Wake up, man!" cried Spear. "A citizens' committee. We're
+going to enforce the law--if it takes a rope."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+THE CHAOS OF '49
+
+Inez and Alice were returning from church on Sunday, July 15 when they
+encountered a strange, unsabbatical procession; a company of grim and
+tight-lipped citizens marching, rifles over shoulder toward the Bay. At
+their head was William Spofford. Midway of the parade were a dozen
+rough-appearing fellows, manacled and guarded. Among these Inez
+recognized Sam Roberts, gaunt and bearded leader of the hoodlum band
+known as The Hounds or Regulars. From Little Chili, further to the north
+and west, rose clouds of smoke; now and then a leaping tongue of flame.
+
+Presently Benito, musket at shoulder, came marching by and Inez plucked
+at his arm.
+
+"Can't stop now," he told her hurriedly. "We're taking these rogues to
+the sloop Warren. They're to be tried for arson and assault in the
+foreign quarter."
+
+"By the Eternal!" shouted a bystander enthusiastically. "We've got Law
+in San Francisco at last.... Hurrah for Bill Spofford and the Citizens'
+Committee."
+
+"There's Adrian," cried Inez as the rearguard of the pageant passed.
+"Isn't it fine? Alice, aren't you proud?"
+
+But Alice was a practical little body. "They'll be hungry when they come
+home," she averred. "Let us hurry back and get their dinner ready."
+
+[Illustration: Passersby who laughed at the inscription witnessed
+simultaneously the rescue of an almost-submerged donkey by means of an
+improvised derrick.]
+
+The affair of The Hounds was already past history when the gold-seekers,
+hunted from the heights by early snows, returned to San Francisco in
+great numbers. Sara Roberts and his evil band had been deported.
+Better government obtained but there were many other civic problems
+still unsolved. San Francisco, now a hectic, riotous metropolis of
+25,000 inhabitants, was like a muddy Venice, for heavy rains had made
+its unpaved streets canals of oozy mud. At Clay and Kearny streets, in
+the heart of the business district, some wag had placed a
+placard reading:
+
+     THIS STREET IS IMPASSABLE
+       NOT EVEN JACKASSABLE
+
+In which there was both truth and poetry. Passersby who laughed at the
+inscription witnessed simultaneously the rescue of an almost-submerged
+donkey by means of an improvised derrick.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Benito was showing his friend David Broderick, a recent arrival from New
+York, some of San Francisco's sights. "Everything is being used to
+bridge the crossings," said the former laughingly ... "stuff that came
+from those deserted ships out in the bay. Their masts are like a
+forest--hundreds of them."
+
+"You mean their crew deserted during the gold rush?" Broderick inquired.
+
+"Yes, even the skippers and officers in many cases.... See, here is a
+cargo of sieves with which some poor misguided trader overwhelmed the
+market. They make a fair crossing, planted in the mud. And there are
+stepping stones of tobacco boxes--never been opened, mind you--barrels
+of tainted pork and beef. On Montgomery street is a row of cook stoves
+which make a fine sidewalk, though, sometimes the mud covers them."
+
+"And what are those two brigs doing stranded in the mud?" asked
+Broderick.
+
+"Oh, those are the Euphemia and Apollo. They use the first one for a
+jail. That's Geary's scheme. He's full of business. And the second's a
+tavern.... Let's go up to the new post-office. Alice is always eager
+for a letter from her folks in Massachusetts."
+
+They made their way to the new wooden structure at Clay and Pike streets
+where several clerks were busily sorting the semi-weekly mail which had
+just arrived. Hundreds of people stood in long queues before each of the
+windows. "Get in line stranger," said a red-shirted man laughingly.
+"Only seventy-five ahead of us. I counted 'em.... Some have been in line
+since last night I'm told. They're up near the front and holding places
+for others ... getting $20 cash for their time."
+
+Broderick and Benito decided not to wait. They made another journey
+round the town, watching Chinese builders erecting long rows of
+habitations that had come in sections from Cathay. Everywhere was hasty,
+feverish construction--flimsy houses going up like mushrooms over night
+to meet the needs of San Francisco's swiftly augmenting populace.
+
+"It's like a house of cards," said Broderick, who had been a fireman in
+New York. "Lord help us if it ever starts to burn. Even our drinking
+water comes from Sausalito across the Bay."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+RETRIEVING A BIRTHRIGHT
+
+Benito Windham stole from his dwelling, closing the door softly after
+him so Alice, his wife, might not wake. A faint rose dawn colored the
+Contra Costa ridge. From a few of the huts and larger buildings which
+sprinkled San Francisco's hills and hollows so haphazardly, curls of
+blue white wood smoke rose into the windless air. Here and there some
+belated roisterer staggered toward his habitation. But otherwise all was
+still, quicscent. San Francisco slept.
+
+It was the morning of December 24, 1849--the first Christmas eve
+following the gold rush. Windham, who had lain awake since midnight,
+pondered upon this and other things. Events had succeeded each other
+with such riotous activity of late that life seemed more like a dream
+than a reality. His turbulent months at the mines, his high preliminary
+hopes of fortune, their gradual waning to a slow despair; the advent of
+James Burthen and his daughter; then love, his partner's murder and the
+girl's abduction; his pursuit and illness. Alice's rescue and their
+marriage; his return to find the claim covered with snow; finally a
+clerical post in San Francisco.
+
+A sudden distaste for the feverish, riotous town assailed him--a longing
+for the peace and beauty of those broad paternal acres he had lost upon
+the gaming table wrenched his heart.
+
+He pictured Alice in the old rose patio, where his American father had
+wooed his Spanish mother.
+
+Involuntarily his steps turned eastward. At Sacramento and Leidesdorff
+streets he left solid ground to tread a four-foot board above the water,
+to the theoretical line of Sansome street; thence south upon a similar
+foothold to the solid ground of Bush street, where an immense sand-*hill
+with a hollow in its middle, like a crater, struck across the path. Some
+called this depression Thieves Hollow, for in it deserting sailors,
+ticket-of-leave men from Botany Bay prison colony and all manner of
+human riff-raff consorted for nefarious intrigue.
+
+Benito, mounting the slope, looked down at a welter of tents, shacks,
+deck houses and galleys of wrecked ships. He had expected their
+occupants to be asleep, for they were nighthawks who reversed man's
+usual order in the prosecution of nocturnal and ill-favored trades. He
+was astonished to note a general activity. At the portholes of dwellings
+retrieved from the wreck of the sea, unkempt bearded faces stared; smoke
+leaped from a dozen rickety, unstable chimneys, and in the open several
+groups of men and women plied frying pans and coffee pots over
+driftwood fires.
+
+Benito observed them with a covert interest. A black-browed man with a
+shaggy beard and something leonine about him, seemed the master of the
+chief of this godless band. He moved among them, giving orders, and with
+two companions finally ascended to the top. Benito, concealing himself
+behind a scrub oak, watched them, animatedly conversing, as they
+descended and picked their way inland toward the Square. So swift their
+movements and so low their tones he could not make out the tenor of
+their discourse. He caught the words, "like tow," but that was all.
+Musingly, he went on.
+
+Up the broad and muddy path to Market street, thence west again to
+Third, he made his way. Now south to Mission and once more west, a
+favored route for caballeros. Benito had never traveled it before afoot.
+But his horse had succumbed to the rigors of that frantic ride in
+pursuit of Alice and McTurpin several months ago. Mounts were a
+luxury now.
+
+He skirted the edge of a lagoon that stretched from Sixth to Eighth
+streets and on the ascent beyond observed a tiny box-like habitation,
+brightly painted, ringed with flowers and crowned with an imposing
+flagpole from which floated the Star-Spangled Banner. It was a note of
+gay melody struck athwart the discordant monotony of soiled tent houses,
+tumble-down huts and oblong, flat-roofed buildings stretching their
+disorderly array along the road. Coming closer he saw the name,
+"Pipesville," printed on the door, and knew that this must be the
+"summer home," as it was called, of San Francisco's beloved minstrel,
+Stephen Massett, otherwise "Jeems Pipes of Pipesville," singer, player,
+essayist and creator of those wondrous one-man concerts dear to all the
+countryside.
+
+"Jeems" himself appeared in the doorway to wave a greeting and Benito
+went on oddly cheered by the encounter. In front of the Mansion House,
+adjoining Mission Dolores, stood Bob Ridley, talking with his partner.
+
+"You look warm, son," he remarked paternally to Windham, "let me mix you
+up a milk punch and you'll feel more like yourself. Where's your boss
+and whither are ye bound?"
+
+"Died," Benito answered. "Going to my--to the ranch."
+
+"Thought so," Ridley said. "I hear there's no one on it. Why not steal a
+march on that tin-horn gambler and scallawag. Rally up some friends and
+take possession. That's nine points of the law, my boy, and a half-dozen
+straight-shooting Americans is nine hundred more, now that Geary's
+alcalde and that weak-kneed psalm-singing Leavenworth's resigned
+under fire."
+
+"You're sure--there's no one at the place?" Benito questioned.
+
+"Pretty sure. But what's it matter? Everybody knows it's yours by
+rights. Wait," he cried, excitedly. "I'll get horses. Stuart and I will
+go along. We'll pick up six or seven bully boys along the way. Is it
+a go?"
+
+"A go!" exclaimed Benito, his eyes ashine. "You--you're too good, Bob
+Ridley." He pressed the other's hand. "My wife," he mused, "among the
+roses in the patio! The old home, Dear God! Let it come true!"
+
+An hour later ten men galloped through the gate of the Windham rancho.
+No one offered them resistance. It had the look of a place long
+abandoned. Dead leaves and litter everywhere. All of the animals had
+been driven off--sold, no doubt. The hacienda had been ransacked of its
+valuables. It was almost bare of furniture. The rose court, neglected,
+unkempt, brought back a surge of memories. A chimney had fallen; broken
+adobe bricks lay scattered on the grass.
+
+But to Benito it spelled home. For him and for Alice. This should be his
+Christmas gift. Old Antonio, his former major-domo, lingered still in
+San Francisco. He would send him out this very day to set the place in
+order. Tomorrow he and Alice would ride--his brow clouded. He should
+have to borrow two horses. No matter. Tomorrow they would ride--
+
+A startled exclamation from Bob Ridley roused him from his rhapsody.
+
+"Benito, come here! Look! What the devil is that?"
+
+From their eminence the town of San Francisco was plainly visible; tall,
+thin shafts of smoke rising straight and black from many chimneys; the
+blue bay shimmering in the morning sunshine; the curious fretwork
+shadows of that great flotilla of deserted ships. But there was
+something more; something startlingly unnatural; a great pillar of black
+vapor--beneath it a livid red thing that leaped and grew.
+
+"Good God! The town's afire!" cried Benito.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!
+
+Benito's first thought was of Alice. He had left her sleeping. Perhaps
+she had not yet awakened, for the morning was young. Adrian had gone to
+San Jose the previous afternoon. His wife, his sister and her child
+would be alone.
+
+Benito sprang upon his horse; the others followed. In less than half an
+hour they crossed Market street and were galloping down Kearny toward
+the Square. At California street they were halted by a crowd, pushing,
+shouting, elbowing this way and that without apparent or concerted
+purpose. Above the human babel sounded a vicious crackle of burning wood
+like volleys of shots from small rifles. Red and yellow flames shot high
+and straight into the air. Now and then a gust of wind sent the licking
+fire demon earthward, and before its hot breath people fled in panic.
+
+Benito flung his reins to a bystander. He was scarcely conscious of his
+movements; only that he was fighting for breath in a surging,
+suffocating press of equally excited human beings. From this he finally
+emerged, hatless, disheveled, into a small cleared space filled with
+flying sparks and stifling heat. Across it men rushed feverishly
+carrying pails of water. Dennison's Exchange on Kearny street, midway of
+the block facing Portsmouth Square, was a roaring furnace. Flame sprang
+like red, darting tongues from its windows and thrust impertinent
+fingers here and there through the sloping roof.
+
+Somewhere--no one seemed to know precisely--a woman screamed, "My baby!
+Save my baby!" The sound died to a moan, was stilled. Benito, passing a
+bucket along the line, stared, white faced, at his neighbor. "What was
+that?" he asked.
+
+"Quien sabe?" said the other, "hurry along with that pail. The roof's
+falling."
+
+It was true. The shingle-covered space above the burning building
+stirred gently, undulating like some wind-ruffled pond. The mansard
+windows seemed to bow to the watchers, then slowly sink forward. With a
+roar, the whole roof sprang into fire, buckled, collapsed; the veranda
+toppled. Smoke poured from the eight mansard windows of the Parker
+House, next door. South of the Parker House were single-storied
+buildings, one of wood, another of adobe; the first was a restaurant;
+over its roof several foreign-looking men spread rugs and upon them
+poured a red liquid.
+
+"It's wine," Bob Ridley said. "But they'll never save it. Booker's store
+is going, too. Looks like a clean sweep of the block."
+
+Broderick's commanding figure could be seen rushing hither and thither.
+"No use," Benito heard him say to one of his lieutenants. "Water won't
+stop it. Not enough.... Is there any powder hereabouts?"
+
+"Powder!" cried the other with a blanching face. "By the Eternal, yes! A
+store of it is just around the corner. Mustn't let the fire reach--"
+
+Broderick cut him short. "Go and get it. You and two others. Blow up or
+pull down that building," he indicated a sprawling ramshackle structure
+on the corner.
+
+"But it's mine," one of the fire-fighters wailed. "Cost me ten thousand
+dollars--"
+
+Fiercely Broderick turned upon him. "It'll cost the town ten millions if
+you don't hurry," he bellowed. "You can't save it, anyhow. Do you want
+the whole place to burn?"
+
+[Illustration: Broderick's commanding figure was seen rushing hither and
+thither.... "You and two others. Blow up or pull down that building," he
+indicated a sprawling, ramshackle structure.]
+
+"All right, all right, Cap. Don't shoot," the other countered with a
+sudden laugh. "Come on, boys, follow me." Benito watched him and the
+others presently returning with three kegs. They dived into the building
+indicated. Presently, with the noise of a hundred cannon, the corner
+building burst apart. Sticks and bits of plaster flew everywhere. The
+crowd receded, panic-stricken.
+
+"Good work!" cried the fire marshal.
+
+It seemed, indeed, as though the flames were daunted. The two small
+structures were blazing now. The Parker House, reeling drunkenly,
+collapsed.
+
+Unexpectedly a gust of wind sent fire from the ruins of Dennison's
+Exchange northward. It reached across the open space and flung a rain of
+sparks down Washington street toward Montgomery. Instantly there came an
+answering crackle, and exasperated fire-fighters rushed to meet the
+latest sortie of their enemy. Once more three men, keg laden, made their
+way through smoke and showering brands. Again the deafening report
+reverberated and the crowd fell back, alarmed.
+
+Someone grasped Benito's arm and shook it violently. He turned and
+looked into the feverishly questioning eyes of Adrian Stanley.
+
+"I've just returned," the other panted. "Tell me, is all well--with
+Inez? The women?"
+
+"Don't know," said Benito, half bewildered. The woman's wail for a lost
+child leaped terrifyingly into his recollection. His hand went up as if
+to ward off something. "Don't know," he repeated. "Wasn't home
+when--fire started."
+
+It came to him weirdly that he was talking like a drunken man; that
+Adrian eyed him with a sharp disfavor. "Where the devil were you, then?"
+
+"At the ranch," he answered. Suddenly he laughed. It all seemed very
+funny. He had meant to give his wife a Christmas present; later he had
+ridden madly to her rescue, yet here he was passing buckets in a fire
+brigade. And Adrian, regarding him with suspicion, accusing him silently
+with his eyes.
+
+"You take the pail," he cried. "You fight the fire." And while Stanley
+looked puzzledly after him, Benito charged through a circle of
+spectators up the hill. He did not know that his face was almost black;
+that his eyebrows and the little foreign moustache of which they had
+made fun at the mines was charred and grizzled. He knew only that Alice
+might be in danger. That the fire might have spread west as well as east
+and north.
+
+As he sped up Washington street another loud explosion drummed against
+his ears. A shout followed it. Benito neither knew nor cared for its
+significance. Five minutes later he stumbled across his own doorsill,
+calling his wife's name. There was no answer. Frenziedly he shouted
+"Alice! Alice!" till at last a neighbor answered him.
+
+"She and Mrs. Stanley and the baby went to Preacher Taylor's house. Is
+the fire out?"
+
+"No," returned Benito. Once more he plunged down hill, seized a bucket
+and began the interminable passing of water. He looked about for Adrian
+but did not see him. He became a machine, dully, persistently,
+desperately performing certain ever-repeated tasks.
+
+Hours seemed to pass. Then, of a sudden, something interrupted the
+accustomed trend. He held out his hands and no bucket met it. With a
+look of stupid surprise he stared at the man behind him. He continued to
+hold out his hand.
+
+"Wake up," cried the other, and gave him a whack across the shoulders.
+"Wake up, Benito, man. The fire's out."
+
+Robert Parker, whose hotel was a litter of smoking timbers, and Tom
+Maguire, owner of what once had been the Eldorado gambling house, were
+discussing their losses.
+
+"Busted?" Parker asked.
+
+"Cleaned!" Maguire answered.
+
+"Goin' to rebuild?"
+
+"Yep. And you?"
+
+"Sartin. Sure. Soon as I can get the lumber and a loan."
+
+"Put her there, pard."
+
+Their hands met with a smack.
+
+"That's the spirit of San Francisco," Ridley remarked. "Well we've
+learned a lesson. Next time we'll be ready for this sort of thing.
+Broderick's planning already for an engine company."
+
+"I reckon," Adrian commented as he joined the group, "a vigilance
+committee is what we need even more."
+
+To this Benito made no answer. Into his mind flashed a memory of the
+trio that had left Thieves' Hollow at daybreak.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+POLITICS AND A WARNING
+
+Benito Windham rose reluctantly and stretched himself. It was very
+comfortable in the living-room of the ranch house, where a fire crackled
+in the huge stone grate built by his grandfather's Indian artisans. Many
+of the valuable tapestries imported from Spain had been removed by
+McTurpin during his tenure, but even bare adobe walls were cheerful in
+the light of blazing logs, and rugs of native weave accorded well with
+the simple mission furniture. In a great chair that almost swallowed her
+sat Alice, gazing dreamily into the embers. Family portraits hung upon
+the wall, and one of these, stiff and haughty in the regimentals of a
+soldado de cuero, seemed to look down upon the domestic picture with a
+certain austere benignity. This was the painting of Francisco Garvez of
+hidalgo lineage, who had stood beside Ortega, the Pathfinder, when that
+honored scout of Portola had found the bay of San Francisco and the
+Golden Gate.
+
+"Carissima, how he would have loved you, that old man!" Benito's tone
+was dreamy.
+
+Alice Windham turned. "You are like him, Benito," she said fondly.
+"There is the same flash in your eye. Come, sit for awhile by the fire.
+It's so cosy when it storms."
+
+Benito kissed her. "I would that I might, but today there is an election
+in the city," he reminded. "I must go to vote. Perhaps I can persuade
+the good Broderick to dine with us this evening; or Brannan--though he
+is so busy nowadays. Often I look about unconsciously for Nathan Spear.
+It seems impossible that he is dead."
+
+"He was 47, but he seemed so young," commented Alice. She rose hastily.
+"You must be very careful, dear," she cautioned, with a swift anxiety,
+"of the cold and wet--and of the hoodlums. They tell me there are many.
+Every week one reads in the _Alta_ that So-and-So was killed at the
+Eldorado or the Verandah. Never more than that. In my home in the East
+they would call it murder. There would be a great commotion; the
+assassin would be hanged."
+
+"Ah, yes; but this is a new country," he said, a little lamely.
+
+"Will there never be law in San Francisco?" Alice asked him,
+passionately. "I have not forgotten--how my father died."
+
+Benito's face went suddenly white. "Nor I," he said, with an odd
+intensity; "there are several things ... that you may trust me ... to
+remember."
+
+"You mean," she queried in alarm, "McTurpin?"
+
+Benito's mood changed. "There, my dear." He put an arm about her
+shoulders soothingly. "Don't worry. I'll be careful; neither storm nor
+bullets shall harm me. I will promise you that."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Early as it was in the day's calendar--for San Francisco had no knack of
+rising with the sun--Benito found the town awake, intensely active when
+he picked his way along the edge of those dangerous bogs that passed for
+business streets. Several polling places had been established. Toward
+each of them, lines of citizens converged in patient single-file
+detachments that stretched usually around the corner and the length of
+another block. Official placards announced that all citizens of the
+United States were entitled to the ballot and beneath one of these, a
+wag had written with white chalk in a large and sprawling hand:
+
+"No Chinese Coolies in Disguise Need Apply."
+
+No one seemed to mind the rain, though a gale blew from the sea, causing
+a multitude of tents to sway and flap in dangerous fashion. Now and
+then a canvas habitation broke its moorings and went racing down the
+hill, pursued by a disheveled and irate occupant, indulging in the most
+violent profanity.
+
+At Kearny and Sacramento streets Benito, approaching the voting station,
+was told to get in line by Charley Elleard, the town constable. Elleard
+rode his famous black pony. This pony was the pet of the town and had
+developed a sagacity nearly human. It was considered wondrous sport to
+give the little animal a "two-bit" piece, which it would gravely hold
+between its teeth and present to the nearest bootblack, placing its
+forefeet daintily upon the footrests for a "shine."
+
+As he neared the polls in the slow succession of advancing voters,
+Benito was beset by a rabble of low-voiced, rough-dressed men, who
+thrust their favorite tickets into his hands and bade him vote as
+indicated, often in a threatening manner. Raucously they tried to cry
+each other down. "Here's for Geary and the good old council," one would
+shout. "Geary and his crowd forever."
+
+"We've had the old one too long," a red-shirted six-footer bellowed.
+"Fresh blood for me. We want sidewalks and clean streets."
+
+This provoked a chorus of "Aye! Aye! That's the ticket, pard," until a
+satirical voice exclaimed, "Clean streets and sidewalks! Gor a'mighty.
+He's dreamin' o' Heaven!"
+
+A roar of laughter echoed round the town at this sally. It was repeated
+everywhere. The campaign slogan was hastily dropped.
+
+At the polling desk Benito found himself behind a burly Kanaka sailor,
+dark as an African.
+
+"I contest his vote," cried one of the judges. "If he's an American, I'm
+a Hottentot."
+
+"Where were you born?" asked the challenging judge of election.
+
+"New York," whispered a voice in the Kanaka's ear, and he repeated the
+word stammeringly. "Where was your father born?" came the second
+question, and again the word was repeated. "What part of New York?"
+
+"New York, New York." The answer was parrot-like. Someone laughed.
+
+"Ask him what part of the Empire State he hails from?" suggested
+another. The question was put in simpler form, but it proved too much
+for the Islander. He stammered, stuttered, waved his hand uncertainly
+toward the ocean. Perceiving that he was the butt of public jest, he
+broke out of the line and made off as fast as his long legs could
+transport him.
+
+The man whose whispered promptings had proved unavailing, fell sullenly
+into the background, after venomous glance at the successful objector.
+Benito caught his eyes under the dripping crown of a wide-brimmed slouch
+hat. They seemed to him vaguely familiar. Almost instinctively his hand
+sought the pocket in which his derringer reposed. Then, with a laugh, he
+dismissed the matter. He had no quarrel with the fellow; that murderous
+look was aimed at Henry Mellus, not at him. So he cast his ballot
+and went out.
+
+Opposite the Square he paused to note the progress of rehabilitation in
+the burned area. It was less than a fortnight since he had stood there
+feverishly passing buckets of water in a fight against the flames, but
+already most of the evidences of conflagration were hidden behind the
+framework of new buildings. The Eldorado announced a grand opening in
+the "near future"; Maguire's Jenny Lind Theater notified one in
+conspicuous letters, "We Will Soon Be Ready for Our Patrons, Bigger and
+Grander Than Ever."
+
+Benito nodded to Robert Parker, whose hotel was rising, phoenix-like
+from its ashes.
+
+"Things are coming along," he said with a gesture toward the buildings.
+"Have you seen anything of Dave Broderick?"
+
+Parker shook the rain-drops from his hat. "Saw him going toward the
+Bella Union," he replied. "They say he's as good as elected. A fine
+State senator he'll make, too." Taking Benito's arm, he walked with him
+out of earshot of those nearby.
+
+"Benito," his tone was grave. "They tell me you've resumed possession of
+your ranch."
+
+"Yes," confirmed the younger. "Half a dozen of my old servants are there
+with Mrs. Windham and myself. I've bought a little stock on credit and
+all's going well."
+
+For a moment Parker said nothing; then, almost in Benito's ear, he spoke
+a warning: "Do you know that McTurpin is back?"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+ON THE TRAIL OF McTURPIN
+
+Benito, in a mood of high excitement, strode uphill toward the Bella
+Union, pondering the significance of Parker's startling information.
+
+So McTurpin had come back.
+
+He had been about to ask for further details when one of the hurrying
+workmen called his informant away. After all it did not matter much just
+how or when the gambler had returned. They were sure to meet sooner or
+later. Once more Windham's hand unconsciously sought the pistol in his
+pocket. At the entrance of the Bella Union he halted, shook the rain
+from his hat, scraped the mud from his feet upon a pile of gunnysacks
+which served as doormats, and went into the brilliant room. Since the
+temporary closing of the Eldorado, this place had become the most
+elegant and crowded of the city's gaming palaces. A mahogany bar
+extended the length of the building; huge hanging lamps surrounded by
+ornate clusters of prisms lent an air of jeweled splendor which the
+large mirrors and pyramids of polished glasses back of the counter
+enhanced. On a platform at the rear were several Mexican musicians in
+rich native costumes twanging gaily upon guitars and mandolins. Now and
+then one of them sang, or a Spanish dancer pirouetted, clicking her
+castanets and casting languishing glances at the ring of auditors about
+her. These performers were invariably showered with coins. Tables of all
+sizes filled the center of the room from the long roulette board to the
+little round ones where drinks were served. Faro, monte, roulette, rouge
+et noir, vingt-un, chuck-a-luck and poker: each found its disciples;
+now and then a man went quietly out and another took his place; there
+was nothing to indicate that he had lost perhaps thousands of dollars,
+the "clean-up" of a summer of hardships at the mines. A bushy bearded
+miner boasted that he had won $40,000 and lost it again in an hour and a
+half. Henry Mellus offered him work as a teamster and the
+other accepted.
+
+"Easy come, easy go," he commented philosophically and, lighting his
+pipe from one of the sticks of burning punk placed at intervals along
+the bar, he went out.
+
+In an out-of-the-way corner, where the evening's noise and activity
+ebbed and flowed a little more remotely, Benito discovered Broderick
+chewing an unlighted cigar and discussing the probabilities of election
+with John Geary. They hailed him cordially, but in a little while Geary
+drifted off to learn further news of the polls.
+
+"And how is the charming Mrs. Windham?" asked Broderick.
+
+"Well and happy, thank you," said Benito. "She loves the old place.
+Cannot you dine with us there tonight?"
+
+"With real pleasure," Broderick returned. "In this raw, boisterous place
+a chance to enjoy a bit of home life, to talk with a high-bred woman is
+more precious than gold."
+
+Benito bowed. "It is not often that we have a Senator for a guest," he
+returned, smiling.
+
+Broderick placed a hand upon his shoulder almost paternally. "I hope
+that is prophetic, Benito," he said. "I'm strangely serious about it.
+This town has taken hold of me--your San Francisco."
+
+They turned to greet Sam Brannan, now a candidate for the ayuntamiento
+or town council. "How goes it, Sam?" asked Broderick.
+
+"Well enough," responded Brannan. He looked tired, irritated. "There's
+been a conspiracy against us by the rowdy element, but I think we've
+beaten them now."
+
+Broderick's brow clouded. "We need a better government; a more
+effective system of police, Sam," he said, striking his first against
+the table.
+
+"What we need," said Brannan, "is a citizens' society of public safety;
+a committee of vigilance. And, mark my word, we're going to have 'em.
+There's more than one who suspects the town was set afire last
+December."
+
+"But," said Broderick, "mob rule is dangerous. The constituted
+authorities must command. They are the ones to uphold the law."
+
+"But what if they don't?" Brannan's aggressive chin was thrust forward.
+"What then?"
+
+"They must be made to; but authority should not be overthrown. That's
+revolution."
+
+"And where, may I ask, would human liberty be today if there'd never
+been a revolution?" Brannan countered.
+
+Benito left them. He had no stomach for such argument, though he was to
+hear much more of it in years to come. Suddenly he recalled the man who
+had tried to coach the Kanaka; who had glared so murderously at Mellus.
+Those eyes had been familiar; something about them had made him grip his
+pistol, an impulse at which afterward he had laughed. But now he knew
+the reason for that half-involuntary action. Despite the beard and
+mustache covering the lower portion of his face completely; despite the
+low-pulled hat, the disguising ulster, he knew the man.
+
+McTurpin.
+
+The hot Spanish temper which he had never entirely mastered, flamed like
+a scorching blast across Benito's mind. He saw again McTurpin smiling as
+he won by fraud the stake at cards which he had laid against Benito's
+ranch; he seemed to hear again the gambler's sneering laugh as he, his
+father and Adrian had been ambushed at the entrance of his home; in his
+recollection burned the fellow's insult to his sister; the abduction of
+Alice, his wife; the murder of his partner. He was certain that
+McTurpin had somehow been at the bottom of it. Swiftly he was lost to
+all reason. He took the weapon from his pocket, examined it carefully to
+make certain that the caps were unimpaired by moisture. Then he
+set forth.
+
+At the polling station he made casual inquiries, but the ballot-box
+stuffer for some time had not been seen.
+
+"Charley Elleard ran him off, I think," said Frank Ward, laughing. "He'd
+have voted Chinamen and Indians if he'd had his way. But if you're
+looking for the rascal try the gambling house at Long Wharf and
+Montgomery street; that's where his kind hang out."
+
+Later in the spring of 1850 Montgomery street was graded. Now it was a
+sloping streak of mud, the western side of which was several feet above
+the other. Where Long Wharf, which was to be cut through and called
+Commercial street, intersected, or rather bisected Montgomery, stood a
+large building with a high, broad roof. Its eaves projected over a row
+of benches, and here, sheltered somewhat from the rain, a group of
+Mexicans and Chilenos lounged in picturesque native costumes, smoking
+cigarettes. Through the door came a rollicking melody--sailor tunes
+played by skillful performers--and a hum of converse punctuated by the
+click of chips and coin. Benito entered. The room was blue with
+cigarette smoke, its score of tables glimpsed as through a fog. Sawdust
+covered the floor and men of all nationalities mingled quietly enough at
+play of every kind. A stream of men came and went to and from the gaming
+boards and bar.
+
+Benito ordered a drink, and surveyed the room searchingly. The man he
+sought was not in evidence. "Is McTurpin here?" he asked the bartender.
+
+If that worthy heard, he made no answer; but a slight, agile man with
+sly eyes looked up from a nearby table, "What d'ye want of him,
+stranger?"
+
+An arrogant retort sprang to Benito's lips, but he checked it. He bent
+toward the questioner confidentially. "I've news for Alec," he
+whispered; "news he ought to know--and quickly."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+THE SQUATTER CONSPIRACY
+
+Instantly the slight man rose. He had narrow eyes, shrewd and
+calculating and the sinuous motions of a contortionist. Linking his arm
+with Benito's, he smiled, disclosing small, discolored teeth. There was
+something ratlike about him, infinitely repellant. "Come, I'll tyke ye
+to 'im," he volunteered.
+
+But this did not suit Benito's purpose. "I must go alone," he said
+emphatically.
+
+The other eyed him with suspicion. "Then find him alone," he countered,
+sullenly. But a moment later he was plucking at Benito's elbow. "What's
+it all abaout, this 'ere news? Cawn't ye tell a fellow? Give me an
+inklin'; trust me and I'll trust you; that's business."
+
+Benito hesitated. "It's about the ranch," he returned at a venture.
+
+"Ow, the rawnch. Well, you needn't 'ave been so bloody sly about it.
+Alec isn't worried much abaout the rawnch. 'E's bigger fish to fry. But
+you can see 'im if you wants. 'E's at the Broken Bottle Tavern up in
+Sydney Town."
+
+They had a drink together; then Benito parted from his informant,
+ruminating over what the little man, so palpably a "Sydney Duck,"
+had told him.
+
+Benito surveyed his reflection in a glass. In his rain-bedraggled attire
+he might pass for one of the Sydney Ducks himself. His boots were
+splashed with mud, his scrape wrinkled and formless. He pulled the
+dripping hat into a disheveled slouch, low down on his forehead.
+McTurpin had not seen him with a beard, had failed to recognize him at
+the polling station. Benito decided to risk it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+One of the largest and most pretentious of Sydney Town's "pubs," or
+taverns, was The Broken Bottle, kept by a former English pugilist from
+Botany Bay. He was known as Bruiser Jake, could neither read nor write
+and was shaped very much like a log, his neck being as large as his
+head. It was said that the Australian authorities had tried to hang him
+several times, but failed because the noose slipped over his chin and
+ears, refusing its usual function. So he finally had been given a
+"ticket of leave" and had come to California. Curiously enough the
+Bruiser never drank. He prided himself on his sobriety and the great
+strength of his massive hands in which he could squeeze the water out of
+a potato. Ordinarily he was not quarrelsome, though he fought like a
+tiger when aroused.
+
+Benito found this worthy behind his bar and asked for a drink of English
+ale, a passable quality of which was served in the original imported
+bottles at most public houses.
+
+The Bruiser watched him furtively with little piglike eyes. "And who
+might ye be, stranger?" he asked when Benito set down his glass.
+
+"'Awkins--that's as good a nyme as another," said Benito, essaying the
+cockney speech. "And what ye daon't know won't 'urt you, my friend." He
+threw down a silver piece, took the bottle and glass with him and sat
+down at a table near the corner. Hard by he had glimpsed the familiar
+broad back of McTurpin.
+
+At first the half-whispered converse of the trio at the adjoining table
+was incomprehensible to his ears, but after a time he caught words,
+phrases, sentences.
+
+First the word "squatters" reached him, several times repeated; then,
+"at Rincon." Finally, "the best lots in the city can be held."
+
+After that for a time he lost the thread of the talk. An argument
+arose, and, in its course, McTurpin's voice was raised incautiously.
+
+"Who's to stop us?" he contended, passionately. "The old alcalde grants
+aren't worth the paper they're written on. Haven't squatters
+dispossessed the Spaniards all over California? Didn't they take the San
+Antonio ranch in Oakland, defend it with cannon, and put old Peralta in
+jail for bothering them with his claims of ownership?" He laughed. "It's
+a rare joke, this land business. If we squat on the Rincon, who'll
+dispossess us? Answer me that."
+
+"But it's government ground. It's leased to Ted Shillaber," one
+objected.
+
+"To the devil with Shillaber," McTurpin answered. "He won't know we're
+going to squat till we've put up our houses. And when he comes we'll
+quote him squatter law. He can buy us off if he likes. It'll cost him
+uncommon high. He can fight us in the courts and we'll show him squatter
+justice. We've our friends in the courts, let me tell you."
+
+"Aye, mayhap," returned a lanky, red-haired sailor, "but there's them o'
+us, like you and me and Andy, yonder, what isn't hankerin' for courts."
+
+McTurpin leaned forward, and his voice diminished so that Benito could
+scarcely hear his words. "Don't be afraid," he said. "I've got my men
+selected for the Rincon business, a full dozen of 'em ... all with clean
+records, mind ye. Nothing against them." He pounded the table with his
+fist by way of emphasis. "And when we've done old Shillaber, we'll come
+in closer. We'll claim lots that are worth fifty thou--" He paused. His
+tone sank even lower, so that some of his sentence was lost.
+
+It was at this juncture that Benito sneezed. He had felt the approach of
+that betraying reflex for some minutes, but had stifled it. Those who
+have tried this under similar circumstances know the futility of such
+attempts; know the accumulated fury of sound with which at length
+bursts forth the startling, terrible and irrepressible
+
+"Ker-CHEW!"
+
+McTurpin and his two companions wheeled like lightning. "Who's this?"
+the gambler snarled. He took a step toward the Bruiser. "Who the devil
+let him in to spy on us?"
+
+"Aw, stow it, Alec!" said the former fighter. "'E's no spy. 'E's one o'
+our lads from the bay. Hi can tell by 'is haccent."
+
+Benito rose. His hand crept toward the derringer, but McTurpin was
+before him. "Don't try that, blast you!" he commanded. "Now, my friend,
+let's have a look at you.... By the Eternal! It's young Windham!"
+
+"The cove you don hout o' his rawnch?" asked the Bruiser, curiously.
+
+"Shut up, you fool!" roared the gambler. His face was white with fury.
+"What are you doing here?" he asked Benito.
+
+"Getting some points on--er--land holding," said Windham. He was
+perfectly calm. Several times this man had overawed, outwitted, beaten
+him. Now, though he was in the enemy's country, surrounded by cutthroats
+and thieves, he felt suddenly the master of the situation. Perhaps it
+was McTurpin's dismay, perhaps the spur of his own danger. He knew that
+there was only one escape, and that through playing on McTurpin's anger.
+"A most ingenious scheme, but it'll fail you!"
+
+"And why'll it fail, my young jackanapes?" the gambler blazed at him.
+"Do you reckon I'll let you go to give the alarm?"
+
+It was then Benito threw his bombshell. It was but a shrewd guess. Yet
+it worked amazingly. "Your plan will fail," he said with slow
+distinctness, "because Sam Brennan and Alcalde Geary know you set the
+town afire. Because they're going to hang you."
+
+Rage and terror mingled in McTurpin's face. Speechless, paralyzing
+wrath that held him open-mouthed a moment. In that moment Windham acted
+quickly. He hurled the bottle, still half full of ale, at his
+antagonist, missed him by the fraction of an inch and sent the missile
+caroming against the Bruiser's ear, thence down among a pyramid of
+glasses. There was a shivering tinkle; then the roar as of a maddened
+bull. The Bruiser charged. Windham shot twice into the air and fled. He
+heard a rending crash behind him, a voice that cried aloud in mortal
+pain, a shot. Then, silence.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+"GROWING PAINS"
+
+On the morning of February 28, 1850, Theodore Shillaber, with a number
+of friends, made a visit to the former's leased land on the Rincon,
+later known as Rincon Hill. Here, on the old government reserve, whose
+guns had once flanked Yerba Buena Cove, Shillaber had secured a lease on
+a commanding site which he planned to convert into a fashionable
+residence section. What was his surprise, then, to find the scenic
+promontory covered with innumerable rickety and squalid huts. A tall and
+muscular young fellow with open-throated shirt and stalwart, hirsute
+chest, swaggered toward him, fingering rather carelessly, it seemed to
+Shillaber, the musket he held.
+
+"Lookin' for somebody, stranger?" he inquired, meaningly.
+
+Shillaber, somewhat taken aback, inquired by what right the members of
+this colony held possession.
+
+"Squatter's rights," returned the large youth, calmly, and spat
+uncomfortably near to Shillaber's polished boots.
+
+"And what are squatter's rights, may I ask?" said Shillaber, striving to
+control his rising temper.
+
+The youth tapped his rifle barrel. "Anyone that tries to dispossess
+us'll soon find out," he returned gruffly, and, turning his back on the
+visitors, he strode back toward his cabin.
+
+"Wait," called Shillaber, red with wrath, "I notify you now, in the
+presence of witnesses that if you and all your scurvy crew are not gone
+bag and baggage within twentyfour hours, I'll have the authorities
+dispossess you and throw you into jail for trespassing."
+
+The large young man halted and presented a grinning face to his
+threatener. He did not deign to reply, but, as though he had given a
+signal, shrill cackles of laughter broke out in a dozen places.
+
+Shillaber, who was a choleric man, shook his fist at them. He was too
+angry for speech.
+
+Shillaber had more than his peck of trouble with the Sydney Ducks that
+roosted on his land. He sent the town authorities to dispossess them,
+but without result. There were too many squatters and too few police.
+Next he sent an agent to collect rents, but the man returned with a sore
+head and bruised body, minus coin. Shillaber was on the verge of
+insanity. He appealed to everyone from the prefect to the governor. In
+Sydney Town his antics were the sport of a gay and homogeneous
+population and at the public houses one might hear the flouted landlord
+rave through the impersonations of half a dozen clever mimics. At The
+Broken Bottle a new boniface held forth. Bruiser Jake had mysteriously
+disappeared on the evening of election. And with him had vanished Alec
+McTurpin, though a sly-eyed little man now and then brought messages
+from the absent leader.
+
+In the end Shillaber triumphed, for he persuaded Captain Keyes,
+commander at the Presidio, that the squatters were defying Federal law.
+Thus, one evening, a squad of cavalry descended upon the Rincon
+squatters, scattering them like chaff and demolishing their flimsy
+habitations in the twinkling of an eye. But this did not end
+squatterism. Some of the evicted took up claims on lots closer in. A
+woman's house was burned and she, herself, was driven off. Another woman
+was shot while defending her husband's home during his absence.
+
+Meanwhile, San Francisco's streets had been graded and planked. The old
+City Hall, proving inadequate, was succeeded by a converted hotel. The
+Graham House, a four-story wooden affair of many balconies, at Kearny
+and Pacific streets, was now the seat of local government.
+
+For it the council paid the extraordinary sum of $150,000, thereby
+provoking a storm of newspaper discussion. Three destructive fires had
+ravaged through the cloth and paper districts, and on their ashes more
+substantial structures stood.
+
+There was neither law nor order worthy of the name. Only feverish
+activity. A newsboy who peddled Altas on the streets made $40,000 from
+his operations; another vendor of the Sacramento Union, boasted $30,000
+for his pains. A washerwoman left her hut on the lagoon and built a
+"mansion." Laundering, enhanced by real estate investments, had given
+her a fortune of $100,000.
+
+Social strata were not yet established. Caste was practically unknown.
+Former convicts married, settled down, became respected citizens.
+Carpenters, bartenders, laborers, mechanics from the East and Middle
+West, became bankers, Senators, judges, merchant princes and promoters.
+
+White linen replaced red flannel, bowie knives and revolvers were
+sedately hidden beneath frock coats, the vicuna hat was a substitute for
+slouch and sombrero.
+
+But, under it all, the fierce, restless heart of San Francisco beat on
+unchanged. In it stirred the daring, the lawless adventure, the feverish
+ambition and the hair-trigger pride of argonauts from many lands. And in
+it burned the deviltry, brutality, licentiousness and greed of criminal
+elements freed from the curb of legal discipline.
+
+David Broderick discussed it frequently with Alice Windham. He had
+fallen into a habit of coming to the ranch when wearied by affairs of
+state. He was a silent, brooding man, robbed somehow of his national
+heritage, a sense of humor, for he had Irish blood. He was a man of
+fire, implacable as an enemy, inalienable as a friend. And to Alice, as
+she sat embroidering or knitting before the fire, he told many of his
+dreams, his plans. She would nod her head sagely, giving him her eyes
+now and then--eyes that were clear and calm with understanding.
+
+Thus Alice came to know what boded for the town of San Francisco.
+"Benito," she said one night, when Broderick had gone, "Benito, my
+dearest, will you let me stir you--even if it wounds?" She came up
+behind him quickly; put her arms about his neck and leaned her golden
+head against his own. "We are sitting here too quietly ... while life
+goes by," her tone was wistful. "You, especially, Benito. Outside teems
+the world; the gorgeous, vibrant world of which our David speaks."
+
+"What do you want me to do?" he asked, stirring restlessly, "go into
+business? Make money--like Adrian?"
+
+"No, no," she nestled closer. "It isn't money that I crave. We are happy
+here. But"--she looked up at the portrait of Francisco Garvez, and
+Benito followed her glance. "What would he have you do?"
+
+"I promised him in thought," her husband said, "that I would help to
+build the city he loved. It was a prophecy," his tone grew dreamy, "a
+prophecy that he and his--the Garvez blood--should always stir in San
+Francisco's heart." Swiftly he rose and, standing very straight before
+the picture, raised his right hand to salute. "You are right," he said.
+"He would have wanted me to be a soldier."
+
+But Alice shook her head. "The conquest is over," she told him. "San
+Francisco needs no gun nor saber now. In our courts and legislatures lie
+the future battlegrounds for justice. You must study law, Benito.... I
+want"--quick color tinged her face--"I want my--son to have a
+father who--"
+
+"Alice!" cried Benito. But she fled from him. The door of her bedroom
+closed behind her. But it opened again very softly--"who makes his
+country's laws," she finished, fervently.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI
+
+THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEE
+
+About 8 o'clock on the evening of February 19, 1851, two men entered the
+store of C.J. Jansen & Co., a general merchandise shop on Montgomery
+street. The taller and older presented a striking figure. He was of such
+height that, possibly from entering many low doorways, he had acquired a
+slight stoop. His beard was long and dark, his hair falling to the
+collar, was a rich and wavy brown. He had striking eyes, an aquiline
+nose and walked with a long, measured stride. Charles Jansen, alone in
+the store, noted these characteristics half unconsciously and paid
+little attention to the smaller man who lurked behind his companion in
+the shadows.
+
+"Show me some blankets," said the tall man peremptorily. Jansen did not
+like his tone, nor his looks for that matter, but he turned toward a
+shelf where comforters, sheets and blankets were piled in orderly array.
+As he did so he heard a quick step behind him; the universe seemed to
+split asunder in a flash of countless stars. And then the world
+turned black.
+
+Hours afterward his partner found him prone behind the counter, a great
+bleeding cut on his head. The safe stood open and a hasty examination
+revealed the loss of $2,000 in gold dust and coin. Jansen was revived
+with difficulty and, after a period of delirium, described what had
+occurred. The next morning's Alta published a sensational account of the
+affair, describing Jansen's assailant and stating that the victim's
+recovery was uncertain.
+
+As Adrian, Benito and Samuel Brannan passed the new city hall on the
+morning of February 22, they noticed that a crowd was gathering. People
+seemed to be running from all directions. Newsboys with huge armfuls of
+morning papers, thrust them in the faces of pedestrians, crying, "Extra!
+Extra! Assassins of Jansen caught." Adrian tossed the nearest lad a
+two-bit piece and grasped the outstretched sheet. It related in heavy
+blackfaced type the arrest of "two scoundrelly assassins," one of whom,
+James Stuart, a notorious "Sydney Duck," was wanted in Auburn for the
+murder of Sheriff Moore. This was the man identified by Jansen. He
+claimed mistaken identity, however, insisting that his name was
+Thomas Berdue.
+
+"They'll let him go on that ridiculous plea, no doubt," remarked
+Brannan, wrathfully. "There are always a dozen alibis and false
+witnesses for these gallows-birds. It's time the people were doing
+something."
+
+"It looks very much as though we _were_ doing something," said Benito,
+with a glance at the gathering crowd.
+
+There were shouts of "Lynch them! Bring them out and hang them to a
+tree!" Someone thrust a handbill toward Benito, who grasped it
+mechanically. It read:
+
+     CITIZENS OF SAN FRANCISCO
+
+     The series of murders and robberies that have been committed
+     in the city seems to leave us entirely in a state of anarchy.
+     Law, it appears, is but a nonentity to be sneered at; redress
+     can be had for aggression but through the never-failing
+     remedy so admirably laid down in the Code of Judge Lynch.
+
+     All those who would rid our city of its robbers and murderers
+     will assemble on Sunday at 2 o'clock on the Plaza.
+
+"This means business," commented Adrian grimly. "It may mean worse
+unless their temper cools. I've heard this Stuart has a double. They
+should give him time--"
+
+"Bosh!" cried Brannan, "they should string him up immediately." He
+waved the handbill aloft. "Hey, boys," he called out loudly, "let us go
+and take them. Let us have a little justice in this town."
+
+"Aye, aye," cried a score of voices. Instantly a hundred men rushed up
+the stairs and pushed aside policemen stationed at the doors. They
+streamed inward, hundreds more pushing from the rear until the court
+room was reached. There they halted suddenly. Angry shouts broke from
+the rear. "What's wrong ahead? Seize the rascals. Bring them out!"
+
+But the front rank of that invading army paused for an excellent reason.
+They faced a row of bayonets with determined faces behind them. Sheriff
+Hayes had sensed the brewing troubles and had brought the Washington
+Guards quietly in at a rear entrance.
+
+So the crowd fell back and the first mob rush was baffled. Outside the
+people still talked angrily. At least a thousand thronged the court
+house, surrounding it with the determined and angry purpose of letting
+no one escape. Mayor Geary made his way with difficulty through the
+press and urged them to disperse. He assured them that the law would
+take its proper course and that there was no danger of the prisoners'
+release or escape. They listened to him respectfully but very few left
+their posts. Here and there speakers addressed the multitude.
+
+The crowd, the first fever abated, had resolved itself into a
+semi-parliamentary body. But no real leader had arisen. And so it
+arrived at nothing save the appointment of a committee to confer with
+the authorities and insure the proper guarding of the prisoners. Brannan
+was one of these and Benito another.
+
+"Windham's getting to be a well-known citizen," said a bystander to
+Adrian, "I hear he's studying law with Hall McAllister. Used to be a
+dreamy sort of chap. He's waking up."
+
+"Yes, his wife is at the bottom of it," Stanley answered.
+
+Sunday morning 8,000 people surrounded the courthouse. Less turbulent
+than on the previous day, their purpose was more grimly certain.
+
+Mayor Geary's impressive figure appeared on the balcony of the court
+house. He held out a hand for silence and amid the hush that followed,
+spoke with brevity and to the point.
+
+"The people's will is final," he conceded, "but this very fact entails
+responsibility, noblesse oblige! What we want is justice, gentlemen.
+Now, I'll tell you how to make it sure. Appoint a jury of twelve men
+from among yourselves. Let them sit at the trial with the presiding
+judge. Their judgment shall be final. I pledge you my word for that."
+
+He ceased and again the crowd began murmuring. A tall, smooth-shaven
+youth began to talk with calm distinctness.
+
+There was about him the aspect of command. People ceased their talk to
+listen. "I move you, gentlemen," he shouted, "that a committee of twelve
+men be appointed from amongst us to retire and consider this situation
+calmly. They shall then report and if their findings are approved, they
+shall be law."
+
+"Good! Good!" came a chorus of voices. "Hurray for Bill Coleman. Make
+him chairman."
+
+Coleman bowed. "I thank you, gentlemen," he said, then crisply, like so
+many whip-cracks, he called the names of eleven men. One by one they
+answered and the crowd made way for them. Silently and in a body
+they departed.
+
+"There's a leader for you," exclaimed Adrian to his brother-in-law.
+Benito nodded, eyes ashine with admiration. Presently there was a stir
+among the crowd. The jury was returning. "Well, gentlemen," the mayor
+raised his voice, "what is the verdict?"
+
+Coleman answered: "We recommend that the prisoners be tried by the
+people. If the legal courts wish to aid they're invited. Otherwise we
+shall appoint a prosecutor and attorney for the prisoners. The trial
+will take place this afternoon."
+
+"Hurray! Hurray!" the people shouted. The cheers were deafening.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+THE PEOPLE'S JURY
+
+Benito, as he elbowed his way through a crowd which ringed the city hall
+that afternoon, was impressed by the terrific tight-lipped determination
+of those faces all about him. It was as though San Francisco had but one
+thought, one straight, relentless purpose--the punishment of crime by
+Mosaic law. The prisoners in the county jail appeared to sense this wave
+of retributive hatred, for they paced their cells like caged beasts.
+
+It was truly a case of "The People vs. Stuart (alias Berdue) and
+Windred," charged with robbery and assault. Coleman and his Committee of
+Twelve were in absolute charge. They selected as judges, three popular
+and trusted citizens, J.R. Spence, H.R. Bowie and C.L. Ross. W.A. Jones
+was named the judge's clerk and J.E. Townes the whilom sheriff.
+
+While the jury was impaneling, Brannan spoke to Benito: "Twelve good men
+and true; the phrase means something here. Lord, if we could have such
+jurymen as these in all our American courts."
+
+Benito nodded. "They've appointed Bill Coleman as public prosecutor;
+that's rather a joke on Bill."
+
+Judge Spence, who sat between his two colleagues, presiding on the
+bench, now spoke:
+
+"I appoint Judge Shattuck and--er--Hall McAllister as counsel for the
+defendants."
+
+There was a murmur of interest. Judge Shattuck, dignified, a trifle
+ponderous, came forward, spectacles in hand. He put them on, surveyed
+his clients with distaste, and took his place composedly at the table.
+Hall McAllister, dapper, young and something of a dandy, advanced with
+less assurance. He would have preferred the other side of the case, for
+he did not like running counter to the people.
+
+Amid a stir the prisoners were led forward to the dock. Judge Spence,
+looking down at them over his spectacles, read the charges. "Are you
+guilty or not guilty?" he asked.
+
+Windred, the younger, with a frightened glance about the court room,
+murmured almost inaudibly, "Not guilty." The other, in a deep and
+penetrating voice, began a sort of speech. It was incoherent, agonized.
+Benito thought it held a semblance of sincerity.
+
+"Always, your honor," he declared, "I am mistaken for that scoundrel;
+that Stuart.... I am a decent man ... but what is the use? I say it's
+terrible...."
+
+"Judge" Spence removed his eyeglasses and wiped them nervously; "does
+anyone in the courtroom recognize this man as Thomas Berdue?"
+
+There was silence. Then a hand rose. "I do," said the voice of a
+waterfront merchant. "I've done business with him under that name."
+
+Immediately there was an uproar. "A confederate," cried voices. "Put him
+out." A woman's voice in the background shrieked out shrilly, "Hang
+him, too!"
+
+McAllister rose. "There must be order here," he said, commandingly and
+the tumult subsided. McAllister addressed Berdue's sponsor. "Can you
+bring anyone else to corroborate your testimony?"
+
+The merchant, red and angry, cried: "It's nothing to me; hang him and be
+damned--if you don't want the truth. I'm not looking for trouble." He
+turned away but the prisoner called to him piteously. "Don't desert me.
+Find Jones or Murphy down at the long wharf. They'll identify me....
+Hurry! Hurry! ... or they'll string me up!"
+
+"All right," agreed the other reluctantly. He left the court room and
+Judge Shattuck moved a postponement of the case.
+
+"Your honor," William Coleman now addressed the court, "this is no
+ordinary trial. Ten thousand people are around this courthouse. They are
+there because the public patience with legal decorum is exhausted;
+however regular and reasonable my colleague's plea might be in ordinary
+circumstances, I warn you that to grant it will provoke disorder."
+
+Judge Shattuck, startled, glanced out of the window and conferred with
+Hall McAllister.
+
+"I withdraw my petition," he said hurriedly. The case went on.
+
+Witnesses who were present when the prisoners were identified by Jansen
+gave their testimony. There was little cross-examination, though
+McAllister established Jansen's incomplete recovery of his mental
+faculties when the men were brought before him. Coleman pointed out the
+striking appearance of the older prisoner; there was little chance to
+err he claimed in such a case. The record of James Stuart was then dwelt
+upon; a history black with evil doing, red with blood. The jury retired
+with the sinister determined faces of men who have made up their minds.
+
+Meanwhile, outside, the crowd stood waiting, none too patiently. Now and
+then a messenger came to the balcony and shouted out the latest aspect
+of the drama being enacted inside. The word was caught up by the first
+auditor, passed along to right and left until the whole throng knew and
+speculated on each bit of information.
+
+Adrian, caught in the outer eddies of that human maelstrom, found
+himself beside Juana Briones. "The jury's out," she told him. "Jury's
+out!" the word swept onward. Then there came a long and silent wait.
+Once again the messenger appeared. "Still out," he bellowed, "having
+trouble." "What's the matter with them?" a score of voices shouted.
+Presently the messenger returned. His face was angry, almost apoplectic.
+One could see that he was having difficulty with articulation. He waved
+his hands in a gesture of impotent wrath. At last he found his voice and
+shouted, "Disagreed. The jury's disagreed."
+
+An uproar followed. "Hang the jury!" cried an irate voice. A rush was
+made for the entrance. But two hundred armed, determined men opposed the
+onslaught. The very magnitude of the human press defeated its own ends.
+Men cried aloud that they were being crushed. Women screamed.
+
+Soon or late the defenders must have fallen. But now a strange diversion
+occurred. On the balcony appeared General Baker, noted as the city's
+greatest orator. In his rich, sonorous tones, he began a political
+speech. It rang even above the excited shouts of the mob. Instantly
+there was a pause, an almost imperceptible let-down of the tension.
+Those who could not see asked eagerly of others, "What's the matter now?
+Who's talking?"
+
+"It's Ed Baker making a speech."
+
+Someone laughed. A voice roared. "Rah for Ed Baker." Others took it up.
+
+Impulsive, variable as the wind, San Francisco found a new adventure. It
+listened spellbound to golden eloquence, extolling the virtues of a
+favored candidate. Meanwhile Acting Sheriff Townes rushed his prisoners
+to the county jail without anyone so much as noticing their departure.
+
+Presently three men came hurrying up and with difficulty made their way
+into the court room.
+
+"Good God! Are we too late?" the leader of the trio asked, excitedly. He
+was the waterfront merchant who had recognized Berdue.
+
+"Too late for the trial," returned Coleman; "it's over; the jury's
+dismissed. Disagreed."
+
+"And what are they doing outside?" cried the other, "are they hanging
+the prisoners?"
+
+"No, the prisoners are safe," returned Coleman, "though they had a
+close enough shave, I'll admit." He laid a hand upon Benito's shoulder
+and there came a twinkle to his eyes. "Our young friend here had an
+inspiration--better than a hundred muskets. He sent Ed Baker out to
+charm them with his tongue."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII
+
+THE RECKONING
+
+It was June on the rancho Windham. Roses and honeysuckle climbed the
+pillars and lattices of the patio; lupin and golden poppies dotted the
+hillsides. Cloud-plumes waved across the faultless azure of a California
+summer sky and distant to the north and east, a million spangled flecks
+of sunlight danced upon the bay.
+
+David Broderick sat on a rustic bench, his eyes on Alice Windham. He
+thought, with a vague stirring of unrecognized emotion that she seemed
+the spirit of womanhood in the body of a fay.
+
+"A flower for your thoughts," she paraphrased and tossed him a rose.
+Instinctively he pressed it to his lips. He saw her color rise and
+turned away. For a moment neither spoke.
+
+"My thoughts," he said at length, "have been of evil men and trickery
+and ambition. I realize that, always, when I come here--when I see you,
+Alice Windham. For a little time I am uplifted. Then I go back to my
+devious toiling in the dark."
+
+A shadow crossed her eyes, but a smile quickly chased it away. "You are
+a fine man, David Broderick," she said, "brave and wonderful and strong.
+Why do you stoop to--"
+
+"To petty politics?" his answering smile was rueful. "Because I must--to
+gain my ends. To climb a hill-top often one must go into a valley.
+That is life."
+
+"No, that is sophistry," her clear, straight glance was on him
+searchingly. "You tell me that a statesman must be first a politician;
+that a politician must consort with rowdies, ballot-box stuffers,
+gamblers--even thieves. David Broderick, you're wrong. Women have their
+intuitions which are often truer than men's logic." She leaned forward,
+laid a hand half shyly on his arm. "I know this much, my friend: As
+surely as you climb your ladder with the help of evil forces, just so
+surely will they pull you down."
+
+It was thus that Benito came upon them. "Scolding Dave again?" He
+questioned merrily, "What has our Lieutenant-Governor been doing now?"
+
+"Consorting with rowdies, gamblers, ballot-box stuffers--not to mention
+thieves, 'twould seem," said Broderick with a forced laugh. Alice
+Windham's eyes looked hurt. "He has accused himself," she said
+with haste.
+
+"You're always your own worst critic, Dave," Benito said. "I want to
+tell you something: The Vigilance Committee forms this afternoon."
+
+The other's eyes flashed. "What is that to me?" he asked, with some
+asperity.
+
+"Only this," retorted Windham. "The committee means business; it's going
+to clean up the town--" Broderick made as if to speak but checked his
+utterance. Benito went on: "I tell you, Dave, you had better cut loose
+from your crowd. Some of them are going to get into trouble. You can't
+afford to have them running to you--calling you their master."
+
+He took from his pocket a folded paper. "We've been drafting a
+constitution, Hall McAllister and I." He read the rather stereotyped
+beginning. Broderick displayed small interest until Benito reached the
+conclusion:
+
+     WE ARE DETERMINED THAT NO THIEF, BURGLAR, INCENDIARY OR
+     ASSASSIN SHALL ESCAPE PUNISHMENT EITHER BY THE QUIBBLES OF
+     THE LAW, THE INSECURITY OF PRISONS, THE CARELESSNESS AND
+     CORRUPTION OF POLICE OR A LAXITY OF THOSE WHO PRETEND TO
+     ADMINISTER JUSTICE.
+
+"And do you mean," asked Broderick, "that these men will take the law
+into their own hands; that they'll apprehend so-called criminals and
+presume to mete out punishment according to their own ideas of justice?"
+
+"I mean just that," returned Benito.
+
+"Why--it's extraordinary," Broderick objected. "It's mob law--organized
+banditti."
+
+"You'll find it nothing of the sort," cried Windham hotly.
+
+"How can it be otherwise?' asked Broderick. What's to prevent rascals
+taking advantage of such a movement--running it to suit themselves?
+They're much cleverer than honest, men; more powerful.... Else do you
+think I'd use my political machine? No, no, Benito, this is
+farce--disaster."
+
+"Read this, then," urged Benito, and he thrust into the other's hand a
+list of some two hundred names. Broderick perused it with growing
+gravity. It represented the flower of San Francisco's business and
+professional aristocracy, men of all political creeds, religious, social
+affiliations.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A few days afterward Broderick conferred with his lieutenants. Word went
+forth that he had cut his leading strings to city politics. Rumors of a
+storm were in the air. When it would break no one could say with
+certainty. The Committee of Vigilance had quietly established quarters
+on Battery street near Pine, where several secret meetings had been held
+and officers elected. These were not made known. Members were designated
+by numerals instead of names. Some said they wore masks but this was an
+unproven rumor.
+
+Broderick, brooding on these things one afternoon, was suddenly aware of
+many people running. He descried a man hastening down Long Wharf toward
+the bay. "Stop thief!" some one shouted. Others took it up. Broderick
+found himself running, too, over the loose boards of the wharf, in
+pursuit of the fleeing figure. The fugitive ran rapidly, despite a large
+burden slung over his shoulder. Presently he disappeared from view. But
+soon they glimpsed him in a boat, rowing lustily away.
+
+A dozen boats set out in chase. Shots rang out. "He's thrown his bundle
+in the water," someone cried. "He's diving," called another. A silence,
+then "We've got him," came a hail exultingly.
+
+Ere long a dripping figure surrounded by half a dozen captors, was
+brought upon the wharf. "He stole a safe from Virgin & Co.," Broderick
+was told. "The Vigilantes have him. They'll hang him probably. Come
+along and see the show."
+
+"But where are the police?" asked Broderick. The man laughed
+contemptuously. "Where they always are--asleep," he answered, and
+went on.
+
+Others brought the news that John Jenkins, an Australian convict, was
+the prisoner. He had several times escaped the clutches of the "law." He
+seemed to treat the whole proceeding as a bit of horseplay, joking
+profanely with his captors, boasting of his crimes.
+
+At 10 o'clock the Monumental fire bell struck several deep-toned notes
+and fifteen minutes later eighty members of the Vigilance Committee had
+assembled. The door was locked. A constable from the police department
+knocked upon it long without avail. Everything was very still about the
+building; even the crowd which gathered there to await developments
+conversed in whispers.
+
+At midnight several cloaked forms emerged, walking rapidly up the
+street. Then the California fire engine bell began to toll. James King
+of William, a local banker, leaving Vigilante quarters almost collided
+with Broderick. "What does that mean?" the latter asked; he pointed to
+the tolling bell.
+
+"It means," King answered, solemnly, "that Jenkins is condemned to
+death. He'll be executed on the Plaza in an hour."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV
+
+THE HANGING OF JENKINS
+
+Mayor Brenham pushed his way forward. "Did I understand you rightly, Mr.
+King?" he questioned. "This committee means to lynch a man--to
+murder him?"
+
+King turned upon him fiery-eyed. "I might accuse you of a hundred
+murders, sir, with much more justice. Where are your police when our
+citizens are slain? What are your courts but strongholds of political
+iniquity?" He raised his arm and with a dramatic gesture, pointed toward
+the city hall. "Go, Mayor Brenham, rouse your jackals of pretended
+law.... The people have risen. At the Plaza in an hour you shall see
+what Justice means."
+
+Several voices cheered. Brenham, overwhelmed, inarticulate before this
+outburst, turned and strode away. Broderick walked on thoughtfully. It
+was evident that the people were aroused past curbing. As he neared the
+city hall, Constable Charles Elleard approached him anxiously.
+
+"There's going to be trouble, isn't there?" he asked. "What shall we do?
+We've less than a hundred men, Mr. Broderick. Perhaps we could get
+fifty more."
+
+"Whatever happens, don't use firearms," Broderick cautioned. "One shot
+will set the town afire tonight." He came closer to the officer and
+whispered, "Make a show of interference, that's all.... If possible see
+that Sheriff Hayes' pistols don't go off.... You understand? I know
+what's best."
+
+Elleard nodded. Broderick went on. Soon he heard the tramp of many feet.
+A procession headed by men bearing torches, was proceeding down the
+street toward the Plaza. As they neared he saw Jenkins, hands tied
+behind his back, striding along in the midst of his captors. A rope was
+about his neck; it extended for a hundred feet behind him, upheld by
+many hands.
+
+Diagonally across the Plaza the procession streamed. At the flagstaff a
+halt was made. Samuel Brannan mounted a sand-heap and addressed
+the crowd.
+
+"I have been deputed by the Vigilance Committee," he began, "to tell you
+that John Jenkins has been fairly tried; he was proven guilty of grand
+larceny and other crimes." He paused dramatically. "The sentence of the
+People's Court is death through hanging by the neck. It will be executed
+here at once, with your approval. All who are in favor of the
+committee's action, will say 'Aye.'"
+
+"Aye! Aye!" came a thunder of voices, mingled with a few desultory
+"noes." Sheriff Jack Hayes rode up importantly on his prancing black
+charger. "In the name of the law I command this proceeding to cease."
+
+"In the name of what law?" mocked Brannan, "the law you've been giving
+us for six months past?"
+
+A roar of laughter greeted this retort. The sheriff, red-faced, held up
+a hand for silence. "I demand the prisoner," he shouted.
+
+Instantly there was a quiet order. Fifty men in soldierly formation
+surrounded Jenkins. "Take him, then," a voice said pleasantly. It was
+William Coleman's. The guards of the forward ranks threw back their
+cloaks, revealing a score of business-like short-barrelled shotguns.
+
+Before this show of force, the gallant Hayes retreated, baffled. He was
+a former Texan ranger, fearless to a fault; but he was wise enough to
+know when he was beaten.
+
+"I've orders not to shoot," he said, "but I warn you that all who
+participate in this man's hanging will be liable for murder."
+
+Again came Brannan's sneer. "If we're as safe as the last hundred men
+that took human life in this town, we've nothing to fear." Again a
+chorus of derision. The sheriff turned, outraged, on his tormentor. "You
+shall hear from me, sir," he said indignantly, and wheeling his horse,
+he rode off.
+
+"String him up on the flagpole," suggested a bystander. But this was
+cried down with indignation. Several members who had been investigating
+now advanced with the recommendation that the hanging take place at the
+south-end of the old Custom House.
+
+"We can throw the rope over a beam," cried a tall man. He was one of
+those who had pursued and caught Jenkins on the bay. Now he seized the
+rope and called, "Come on, boys."
+
+There was a rush toward the southwest corner of the Plaza, so sudden
+that the hapless prisoner was jerked off his feet and dragged over the
+ground. When the improvised gallows was reached he was half strangled,
+could not stand. Several men supported him while others tossed the rope
+across the beam. Then, with a shout, he was jerked from his feet into
+space. His dangling figure jerked convulsively for a time, hung limp.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+After the inquest Brannan met William Coleman at Vigilante headquarters.
+"They were very hostile," he declared; "the political gang is hot on our
+trail. They questioned me as to the names on our committee. I told them
+we went by numbers only," he laughed.
+
+"There have been threats, veiled and open," said Coleman, soberly. "King
+has lost several good banking accounts and my business has fallen off
+noticeably. Friends have advised me to quit the committee--or worse
+things might happen."
+
+Brannan took a folded paper from his pocket; it was a printed scrawl
+unsigned, which read:
+
+"Beware; or your house will be burned. We mean business."
+
+A newsboy hurried down the street crying an extra on the inquest.
+Brannan snatched one from his hand and the two men perused it eagerly.
+The finding, couched in usual verbiage, recited the obvious facts that
+Jenkins, alias Simpson, perished by strangulation and that "an
+association of citizens styling themselves a Committee of Vigilance,"
+was responsible.
+
+"Eight of us are implicated, besides myself," said Brannan finally,
+"they'll start proceedings probably at once."
+
+"And they'll have the courts to back their dirty work," added Coleman,
+thoughtfully. "That will never do," his teeth shut with a little click.
+"I'm going to the _Herald_ office."
+
+"What for?" asked Brannan, quickly.
+
+"To publish the full list of names," Coleman responded. "We're all in
+this together; no group must bear the brunt."
+
+"But," objected Brannan, "is that wise?"
+
+"Of course.... in union there is strength. These crooks will hesitate to
+fight two hundred leading citizens; if they know them all they can't
+pick out a few for persecution."
+
+"Well, I'll go along," said Brannan. "Eh, what's that? What's happened
+now?"
+
+The Monumental engine bell was tolling violently. Coleman listened. "Its
+not a fire," he declared, "it's the Vigilante signal. We'll wait here."
+
+A man came running toward them from the bay. "They've captured James
+Stuart," he shouted. "Bludgeoned a captain on his ship but the man's
+wife held on to him and yelled till rescue came."
+
+"But Stuart's in the Auburn jail, awaiting execution for the murder of
+the sheriff," Coleman said bewildered.
+
+"No," cried the man, "this is the real one. The other's Tom Berdue, his
+double."
+
+"Then there'll be another hanging," Coleman muttered.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV
+
+THE PEOPLE AND THE LAW
+
+Frightened, desperate, angered by the usurpation of their power, varied
+forces combined in opposition to the Vigilance Committee. Political
+office-holders, good and bad, were naturally arrayed against it, and for
+the first time made a common cause. Among the politicians were many men
+of brains, especially those affiliated with the "Chivalry" faction, as
+it was known--Southern men whose object it was to introduce slavery into
+California. These were fiery, fearless, eloquent and quick at stratagem.
+There was also Broderick's Tammany organization, an almost perfect
+political machine, though as yet in the formative stage. There was the
+tacit union of the underworld; gamblers, thieves, plug-uglies, servitors
+of or parasites upon the stronger factions. Each and all they feared and
+hated this new order of the Vigilantes.
+
+Coleman's scheme of publishing the names of the entire committee was
+carried out after a meeting of the executive committee. It had the
+effect of taking the wind out of their opponents' sails for a time. But
+it also robbed committee members of a certain security. In a dozen dark
+and devious ways the Vigilantes were harassed, opposed; windows of shops
+were broken; men returning to their homes were set upon from ambush;
+long-standing business accounts were diverted or withdrawn. Even
+socially the feud was felt. For the Southerners were more or less the
+arbiters of society. Wives of Vigilante members were struck from
+invitation lists in important affairs. Whispers came to them that if
+their husbands were persuaded to withdraw, all would be well.
+
+A few, indeed, did hand their resignations to the committee, but more
+set their names with eagerness upon its roster.
+
+The hanging of James Stuart was impressive and conducted with extreme
+decorum. Stuart, tried before twelve regularly impaneled talesmen and
+defended by an advocate, cut matters short by a voluntary confession of
+his crimes. In fact, he boasted of them with a curious pride. Arson,
+murder, robbery, he admitted with a lavishness which first aroused a
+doubt as to his sanity and truth, but when in many of the cases he
+recited details which were later verified, all doubt as to his evil
+triumphs vanished.
+
+On the morning of July 11 he was sentenced. In the afternoon his body
+swung from a waterfront derrick at Battery and Market streets.
+
+"Get it over with," he urged his executioners, "this 'ere's damned
+tiresome business for a gentleman." He begged a "quid o' terbacker" from
+one of the guards and chewed upon it stolidly until the noose tightened
+about his neck. He did not struggle much. A vagrant wind blew off his
+hat and gently stirred his long and wavy hair.
+
+When Benito next saw Broderick he asked the latter anxiously if all were
+well with him. The latter answered with a wry smile, "I suppose so. I
+have not been ordered to leave town so far."
+
+"You've remembered what we told you--Alice and I?"
+
+"Yes," said Broderick, "and it was good advice. Tell your wife for me
+that woman's intuition sometimes sees more clearly than man's
+cunning.... It is nearer God and truth," he added, softly.
+
+"I shall tell her that. 'Twill please her," Benito replied. "You must
+come to see us soon."
+
+Brannan joined them rather anxiously and drew Benito aside with a
+brusque apology. "Do you know that Governor McDougall has issued a
+proclamation condemning the Vigilance Committee?... I happen to know
+that Broderick inspired this." He gave a covert glance over his
+shoulder, but the Lieutenant-Governor had wandered off. "So far he's
+taken no part against us. And we've left him alone. Now we shall
+strike back."
+
+"I shall advise against it," Windham objected. "Dave is honest. He's
+played fair."
+
+"If you think we're going to let this pass, you're quite mistaken,"
+Brannan answered, hotly. "Why, its not long ago that Governor McDougall
+came to our committee room and commended our work. Said he hoped we'd
+go on."
+
+"Exactly," said Benito, "in the presence of witnesses. Let us see if
+King and Coleman are inside. I have a plan."
+
+They found their tall and quiet leader with James King of William and
+half a dozen others already in session. Brannan, in fiery anger, read
+the Governor's proclamation. There was silence when he finished.
+Possibly a shade of consternation. "Windham's got a scheme to answer
+him," said Brannan.
+
+That day the _Evening Picayune_ printed the Committee's defn. It was as
+follows:
+
+     San Francisco, Aug. 20, 1851.
+
+     "We, the undersigned, do hereby aver that Governor McDougall
+     asked to be introduced to the executive committee of the
+     Committee of Vigilance, which was allowed and hour fixed. The
+     Governor, upon being introduced, states THAT HE APPROVED OF
+     THE ACTS OF THE COMMITTEE and that much good had taken place.
+     He HOPED THEY WOULD GO ON and endeavor to act in concert with
+     the authorities, AND IN CASE ANY JUDGE WAS GUILTY OF
+     MAL-ADMINISTRATION TO HANG HIM and he would appoint others."
+
+To this was appended the names of reputable citizens--men whose
+statements no one doubted. It was generally conceded, with a laugh, that
+Governor McDougall's private opinion differed from his sense of
+public duty.
+
+That afternoon representatives of the Committee met an incoming vessel
+and examined the credentials of all passengers. Several of these not
+proving up to standard, they were denied admittance to the port. The
+outraged captain blustered and refused to take them back to Sydney. But
+in the end he agreed. There was nothing else to do. A guard was placed
+on the non-desirables and maintained until the vessel cleared--until the
+pilot boat returned in fact. San Francisco applauded.
+
+But all the laurels were not with the Committee. On Thursday morning,
+August 21, Sheriff Hayes surprised Vigilante Headquarters at dawn and
+captured Samuel Whitaker and Robert McKenzie both convicted of murder by
+the Committee and sentenced to hang.
+
+The City Government was much elated but the victory was short. For, on
+the following Sunday, Vigilantes gained an entrance to the jail and took
+their prisoners back without a struggle.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Broderick and Windham, en route to the latter's ranch that afternoon,
+heard the Monumental bell toll slowly, solemnly. "What's up?" asked
+Broderick, startled.
+
+"It means," Benito answered, "that the Vigilance Committee still rules.
+Two more scoundrels have been punished."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI
+
+FEVERS OF FINANCE
+
+Four years had passed since the Vigilance Committee ceased active
+labors. Some said they preserved a tacit organization; theirs was still
+a name to conjure with among evil doers, but San Francisco, grown into a
+city of some 50,000, was more dignified and subtle in its wickedness.
+Politics continued notoriously bad. Comedians in the new Metropolitan
+Theatre made jokes about ballot-boxes said to have false bottoms, and
+public officials who had taken their degrees in "political economy" at
+Sing Sing.
+
+"Honest Harry" Meiggs and his brother, the newly-elected City
+Controller, had sailed away on the yacht "American," leaving behind them
+an unpaid-for 2000-foot wharf and close to a million in debts; forged
+city warrants and promissory notes were held by practically every large
+business house in San Francisco.
+
+It was concerning this urbane and gifted prince of swindlers that Adrian
+Stanley talked with William Sherman, manager of the banking house of
+Turner, Lucas & Company.
+
+Sherman, once a lieutenant in the United States Army, had returned,
+after an Eastern trip, as a civilian financier. In behalf of St. Louis
+employers, he had purchased of James Lick a lot at Jackson and
+Montgomery streets, erecting thereon a $50,000 fire-proof building. The
+bank occupied the lower floor; a number of professional men had their
+offices on the second floor; on the third James P. Casey, Supervisor,
+journalist and politician, maintained the offices of _The Sunday Times_.
+He passed the two men as they stood in front of the bank and shouted a
+boisterous "hello." Adrian, ever courteous and good-natured, responded
+with a wave of the hand while Sherman, brusk and curt, as a habit of
+nature and military training, vouchsafed him a short nod.
+
+"I have small use for that fellow," he remarked to Stanley, "even less
+than I had for Meiggs." The other had something impressive about him,
+something almost Napoleonic, in spite of his dishonesty. If business had
+maintained the upward trend of '51 and '52, Meiggs would have been a
+millionaire and people would have honored him--"
+
+"You never trusted 'Honest Harry,' did you?" Stanley asked.
+
+"No," said Sherman, "not for the amount he asked. I was the only banker
+here that didn't break his neck to give the fellow credit. I rather
+liked him, though. But this fellow upstairs," he snapped his fingers,
+"some day I shall order him out of my building."
+
+"Why?" asked Adrian curiously. "Because of his--"
+
+"His alleged prison record?" Sherman finished. "No. For many a good
+man's served his term." He shrugged. "I can't just tell you why I feel
+like that toward Jim Casey. He's no worse than the rest of his clan; the
+city government's rotten straight through except for a few honest judges
+and they're helpless before the quibbles and intricacies of law." He
+took the long black cigar from his mouth and regarded Adrian with his
+curious concentration--that force of purpose which was one day to list
+William Tecumseh Sherman among the world's great generals. "There's
+going to be the devil to pay, my young friend," he said, frowning,
+"between corruption, sectional feuds and business depression ..."
+
+"What about the report that Page, Bacon & Company's St. Louis house has
+failed?" said Stanley in an undertone. Sherman eyed him sharply.
+"Where'd you hear that?" he shot back. And then, ere Adrian could
+answer, he inquired, "Have you much on deposit there?"
+
+"Ten thousand," replied the young contractor.
+
+For a moment Sherman remained silent, twisting the long cigar about
+between grim lips. Then he put a hand abruptly on the other's shoulder.
+"Take it out," he said, "today."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Somewhat later Sherman was summoned to a conference with Henry Haight,
+manager of the banking house in question, and young Page of the
+Sacramento branch. He emerged with a clouded brow, puffing furiously at
+his cigar. As he passed through the bank, Sherman noted an unusual line
+of men, interspersed with an occasional woman, waiting their turn for
+the paying teller's service. The man was counting out gold and silver
+feverishly. There was whispering among the file of waiters. To him the
+thing had an ominous look.
+
+He stopped for a moment at the bank of Adams & Company. There also the
+number of people withdrawing deposits was unusual; the receiving
+teller's window was neglected. James King of William, who, since the
+closing of his own bank, had been Adams & Company's manager, came
+forward and drew Sherman aside. "What do you think of the prospect?" he
+asked. "Few of us can stand a run. We're perfectly solvent, but if this
+excitement spreads it means ruin for the house--for every bank in
+town perhaps."
+
+"Haight's drunk," said Sherman tersely. "Page is silly with fear. I went
+over to help them ... but it's no use. They're gone."
+
+King's bearded face was pale, but his eyes were steady. "I'm sorry," he
+said, "that makes it harder for us all." He smiled mirthlessly. "You're
+better off than we ... with our country branches. If anything goes wrong
+here, our agents will be blamed. There may be bloodshed even." He held
+out his hand and Sherman gripped it. "Good luck," the latter said,
+"we'll stand together, far as possible."
+
+As Sherman left the second counting house, he noted how the line had
+grown before the paying teller's window. It extended now outside the
+door. At Palmer, Cook & Company's and Naglee's banks it was the same.
+The human queue, which issued from the doors of Page, Bacon & Company,
+now reached around the corner. It was growing turbulent. Women tried to
+force themselves between the close-packed file and were repelled. One of
+these was Sherman's washwoman. She clutched his coat-tails as he
+hurried by.
+
+"My God, sir!" she wailed, "they've my money; the savings of years. And
+now they say it's gone ... that Haight's gambled ... spent it on
+women ..."
+
+Sherman tried to quiet her and was beset by others. "How's your bank?"
+people shouted at him. "How's Lucas-Turner?"
+
+"Sound as a dollar," he told them; "come and get your money when you
+please; it's there waiting for you."
+
+But his heart was heavy with foreboding as he entered his own bank. Here
+the line was somewhat shorter than at most of the others, but still
+sufficiently long to cause dismay. Sherman passed behind the counter and
+conferred with his assistant.
+
+"We close in half an hour--at three o'clock," he said. "That will give
+us a breathing spell. Tomorrow comes the test. By then the town will
+know of Page-Bacon's failure ..."
+
+He beckoned to the head accountant, who came hurriedly, a quill pen
+bobbing behind his ear, his tall figure bent from stooping over ledgers.
+
+"How much will we require to withstand a day's run?" Sherman flung the
+question at him like a thunderbolt. And almost as though the impact of
+some verbal missile had deprived him of speech, the man stopped,
+stammering.
+
+"I--I--I think, s-s-sir," he gulped and recovered himself with an
+effort, "f-forty thousand will do it."
+
+Swiftly Sherman turned toward the door. "Where are you going?" the
+assistant called.
+
+"To get forty thousand dollars--if I have to turn highwayman," Sherman
+flung over his shoulder.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII
+
+"GIVE US OUR SAVINGS!"
+
+As he left the bank Sherman cast over in his mind with desperate
+swiftness the list of men to whom he could go for financial support.
+Turner, Lucas & Co. had loaned Captain Folsom $25,000 on his two late
+ventures, the Metropolitan Theatre and the Tehama House. Both, under
+normal conditions, would have made their promoter rich. But nothing was
+at par these days.
+
+Sherman wondered uneasily whether Folsom could help. He was not a man to
+save money, and the banker, who made it his business to know what
+borrowers of the bank's money did, knew that Folsom liked gambling,
+frequented places where the stakes ran high. Of late he had met heavy
+losses. However, he was a big man, Sherman reasoned; he should have
+large resources. Both of them were former army officers. That should
+prove a bond between them. At Captain Folsom's house an old negro
+servant opened the door, his wrinkled black face anxious.
+
+"Mars Joe, he ain't right well dis evenin'," he said, evasively, but
+when Sherman persisted he was ushered into a back room where sat the
+redoubtable captain, all the fierceness of his burnside whiskers, the
+austerity of his West Point manner, melted in the indignity of sneezes
+and wheezes.
+
+Sherman looked at him in frank dismay.
+
+"Heavens, man," he said, "I'm sorry to intrude on you in this condition
+... but my errand won't wait...."
+
+"What do you want, Bill Sherman?" the sick man glowered.
+
+"Money," Sherman answered crisply. "You know, perhaps, that Page, Bacon
+& Co. have failed. Everyone's afraid of his deposits. We've got to have
+cash tomorrow. How about your--?"
+
+With a cry of irritation Folsom threw up his hands. "Money! God
+Almighty! Sherman, there's not a loose dollar in town. My agent, Van
+Winkle, has walked his legs off, talked himself hoarse.... He can't get
+anything. It's impossible."
+
+"Then you can do nothing?"
+
+For answer Folsom broke into a torrent of sneezes and coughs. The old
+negro came running. Sherman shook his head and left the room.
+
+There remained Major Hammond, collector of the port, two of whose notes
+the bank held.
+
+He and Sherman were not over-friendly; yet Hammond must be asked.
+Sherman made his way to the customs house briskly, stated his business
+to the doorkeeper and sat down in an anteroom to await Hammond's
+pleasure. There he cooled his heels for a considerable period before he
+was summoned to an inner office.
+
+"Well, Sherman," he asked, not ungraciously, "what can I do for you?"
+
+"You can take up one of your notes with our bank," replied Sherman,
+without ado. "We need cash desperately."
+
+"'Fraid of a run, eh?"
+
+"Not afraid, no. But preparing for it."
+
+The other nodded his approval. "Quite right! quite right!" he said with
+unexpected warmth.... "So you'd like me to cash one of my notes,
+Mr. Sherman?"
+
+"Why, yes, sir, if it wouldn't inconvenience you," the banker answered,
+"it would aid us greatly." He looked into the collector's keen,
+inquiring eyes, then added: "I may as well say quite frankly, Mr.
+Hammond, you're our last resort."
+
+"Then why"--the other's smile was whimsical--"then why not both of my
+notes?"
+
+[Illustration: There sat the redoubtable captain, all the ... austerity
+of his West Point manner melted in the indignity of sneezes and
+wheezes.... "Money! God Almighty! Sherman, there's not a loose dollar
+in town."]
+
+"Do you mean it?" Sherman asked breathlessly.
+
+By way of answer Hammond drew a book of printed forms toward him.
+Calmly, leisurely, he wrote several lines; tore a long, narrow strip
+from the book and handed it to Sherman.
+
+"Here's my check for $40,000 on the United States Treasurer. He will
+cash it in gold. Never mind, don't thank me, this is purely business. I
+know what's up, young man. I can't see your people go under. Good day!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ten o'clock on the following morning. Hundreds of people lined up before
+the doors of San Francisco banks. Men of all classes; top-hatted
+merchants rubbed elbows with red-shirted miners, Irish laborers smoking
+clay pipes, Mexican vaqueros, roustabouts from the docks, gamblers,
+bartenders, lawyers, doctors, politicians. Here and there one saw women
+with children in their arms or holding them by the hand. They pressed
+shoulder to shoulder. Those at the head had their noses almost against
+the glass. Inside of the counting houses men with pale, harried faces
+stood behind their grilled iron wickets, wondering how long the pile of
+silver and gold within their reach would stay that clamorous human tide.
+Doors swung back and it swept in, a great wave, almost overturning
+the janitors.
+
+The cashier and assistant manager of Lucas & Co. watched nervously, the
+former now and then running his fingers through his sparse hair; the
+assistant manager at intervals retired to a back room where he consulted
+a decanter and a tall glass. Frequently he summoned the bookkeeper.
+"How's the money lasting?" he would inquire almost in a whisper, and the
+other answered, "Still holding out."
+
+But now the assistant manager saw that the cash on hand was almost
+exhausted. He was afraid to ask the bookkeeper any more questions.
+
+"Where the devil's Sherman?" he snapped at the cashier. That official
+started. "Why--er--how should I know?... He was hunting Major Snyder
+this morning. He had a check from Hammond, the collector of the port."
+
+"Damnation!" cried the assistant manager. "Sherman ought to be here. He
+ought to talk to these people. They think he's skipped."
+
+He broke off hurriedly as the assistant teller came up trembling. "We'll
+have to close in ten minutes," he said. "There's less than $500 left."
+His mouth twitched. "I don't know what we'll do, sir, when the time
+comes ... and God only knows what they'll do."
+
+"Good God! what's that?"
+
+Some new commotion was apparent at the entrance of the bank. The
+assistant teller grasped his pistol. The line of waiting men and women
+turned, for the moment forgetting their quest. William Sherman, attended
+by two armed constables, entered the door. Between them the trio carried
+two large canvas bags, each bearing the imprint of the United
+States Treasury.
+
+Sherman halted just inside the door.
+
+"Forty thousand in gold, boys," he cried, "and plenty more where it came
+from. Turner, Lucas & Co. honors every draft."
+
+His face pressed eagerly against the lattice of the paying teller's cage
+stood a little Frenchman. His hat had fallen from his pomaded hair; his
+waxed moustache bristled.
+
+"Do you mean you have ze monnaie? All ze monnaie zat we wish?" he asked
+gesticulating excitedly with his hands.
+
+"Sure," returned the teller. Sherman and his aids were carrying the two
+sacks into the back of the cage, depositing them on a marble shelf.
+"See!" The teller turned one over and a tinkling flood of shining golden
+disks poured forth.
+
+"Ah, bon! bon!" shrieked the little Frenchman, dancing up and down upon
+his high-heeled boots. "If you have ze monnaie, zen I do not want heem."
+He broke out of the line, happily humming a chanson. Half a dozen
+people laughed.
+
+"That's what I say," shouted other voices. "We don't want our money if
+it's safe."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII
+
+KING STARTS THE BULLETIN
+
+After several months of business convalescence, San Francisco found
+itself recovered from the financial chaos of February. Many well-known
+men and institutions had not stood the ordeal; some went down the
+pathway of dishonor to an irretrievable inconsequence and destitution;
+others profited by their misfortunes and still others, with the
+dauntless spirit of the time, turned halted energies or aspirations to
+fresh account. Among them was James King of William.
+
+The name of his father, William King, was, by an odd necessity,
+perpetuated with his own. There were many James Kings and to avert
+confusion of identities the paternal cognomen was added.
+
+In the Bank Exchange saloon, where the city's powers in commerce,
+journalism and finance were wont to congregate, King met, on a rainy
+autumn afternoon, R.D. Sinton and Jim Nesbitt. They hailed him jovially.
+Seated in the corner of an anteroom they drank to one another's health
+and listened to the raindrops pattering against a window.
+
+"Well, how is the auction business, Bob?" asked King.
+
+"Not so bad," the junior partner of Selover and Sinton answered. "Better
+probably than the newspaper or banking line.... Here's poor Jim, the
+keenest paragrapher in San Francisco, out of work since the
+_Chronicle's_ gone to the wall. And here you are, cleaned out by Adams &
+Company's careless or dishonest work--I don't know which."
+
+"Let's not discuss it," King said broodingly. "You know they wouldn't
+let me supervise the distribution of the money. And you know what my
+demand for an accounting brought ..."
+
+"Abuse and slander from that boughten sheet, the Alta--yes," retorted
+Sinton. "Well, you have the consolation of knowing that no honest man
+believes it."
+
+King was silent for a moment. Then his clenched hand fell upon the
+table. "By the Eternal!" he exclaimed, with a sudden upthrust of the
+chin. "This town must have a decent paper. Do you know that there are
+seven murderers in our jail? No one will convict them and no editor has
+the courage to expose our rotten politics." He glanced quickly from one
+to the other. "Are you with me, boys? Will you help me to start a
+journal that will run our crooked officials and their hired plug-uglies
+out of town?... Sinton, last week you asked my advice about a good
+investment ... Nesbitt, you're looking for a berth. Well, here's an
+answer to you both. Let's start a paper--call it, say, the Evening
+Bulletin."
+
+Nesbitt's eyes glowed. "By the Lord Harry! it's an inspiration, King,"
+he said and beckoned to a waiter to refill their glasses. "I know enough
+about our State and city politics to make a lot of well-known citizens
+hunt cover--"
+
+Sinton smiled at the journalist's ardor. "D'ye mean it, James?" he
+asked. "Every word," replied the banker. "But I can't help much
+financially," he added. "My creditors got everything."
+
+"You mean the King's treasury is empty," said Sinton, laughing at his
+pun. "Well, well, we might make it go, boys. I'm not a millionaire, but
+never mind. How much would it take?"
+
+Nesbitt answered with swift eagerness. "I know a print shop we can buy
+for a song; it's on Merchant street near Montgomery. Small but
+comfortable, and just the thing. $500 down would start us."
+
+Sinton pulled at his chin a moment. "Go ahead then," he urged. "I'll
+loan you the money."
+
+King's hand shot out to grasp the auctioneer's. "There ought to be
+10,000 decent citizens in San Francisco who'll give us their support.
+Let's go and see the owner of that print-shop now."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the afternoon of October 5th, 1885, a tiny four-page paper made its
+first appearance on the streets of San Francisco.
+
+The first page, with its queer jumble of news and advertisements, had a
+novel and attractive appearance quite apart from the usual standards of
+typographical make-up. People laughed at King's naive editorial apology
+for entering an overcrowded and none-too-prosperous field; they nodded
+approvingly over his promise to tell the truth with fearless
+impartiality.
+
+William Coleman was among the first day's visitors.
+
+"Good luck to you, James King of William," he held forth a friendly
+hand. The editor, turning, rose and grasped it with sincere cordiality.
+They stood regarding each other silently. It seemed almost as though a
+prescience of what was to come lay in that curious communion of
+heart and mind.
+
+"Going after the crooks, I understand," said Coleman finally.
+
+"Big and little," King retorted. "That's all the paper's for. I don't
+expect to make money."
+
+"How about the Southerners, the Chivalry party? They'll challenge you to
+duels daily."
+
+"Damn the 'Chivs'." King answered. "I shall ignore their challenges.
+This duelling habit is absurd. It's grandstand politics; opera bouffe.
+They even advertise their meetings and the boatmen run excursions to
+some point where two idiots shoot wildly at each other for some fancied
+slight. No, Coleman, I'm not that particular kind of a fool."
+
+"Well, you'd better carry a derringer," the other warned. "There are
+Broderick's plug-uglies. They won't wait to send a challenge."
+
+King gave him an odd look. "I have feeling that one cannot change his
+destiny," he said. "If I am to be killed--then so be it ... Kismet, as
+the Orientals say. But meanwhile I'll fight corruption. I'll call men by
+name and shout their sins from the housetops. We'll wake up the town, or
+my name isn't James King of William.... Won't we, James?" He clapped a
+hand on Nesbitt's shoulder. The other turned half irritably. "What? Oh,
+yes. To be sure," he answered and resumed his writing. Charles
+Gerberding, who held the title of publisher in the new enterprise,
+looked up from his ledger. "If this keeps up," he said, smiling and
+rubbing his hands, "we can enlarge the paper in a month or so." He shut
+the volume with a slam and lighted a cigar.
+
+"Hello, Coleman, how are the Vigilants? I'm told you still preserve a
+tacit organization."
+
+"More of the spirit than substance," said Coleman smiling. "I hope we'll
+not need to revive it."
+
+"Not so sure," responded Gerberding. "This man here," the cigar was
+waved in King's direction, "this editor of ours is going to set the
+town afire."
+
+Coleman did not answer. He went out ... wondering whether Isaac Bluxome
+was in town. Bluxome had served as secretary for the Vigilance
+Committee of '51.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX
+
+RICHARDSON AND CORA
+
+Business went on with at least a surface calm of new stability. Politics
+brought forth occasional eruptions, mostly twixt the Abolitionists and
+Slavery parties. Each claimed California. Broderick more than ever held
+the reins of state and city government. But the latter proved a
+fractious steed. For all his dauntless vigor and political astuteness,
+Destiny as yet withheld from Broderick the coveted United States
+senatorship. At best he had achieved an impasse, a dog-in-the-manger
+victory. By preventing the election of a rival he had gained little and
+incurred much censure for depriving the State of national
+representation. Benito and Alice tried to rouse him from a fit of
+moodiness as he dined with them one evening in November. Lately he had
+made a frequent, always-welcome third at their evening meal.
+
+"Cheer up, Dave," Benito rallied, as he raised a glass of wine. "We'll
+be reading your speeches in the Washington reports before many years
+have gone by. Come," he said to his wife, "let's drink to the future of
+'The Gentleman from California.'"
+
+Broderick smiled; his glass clinked against those of his two companions.
+He gazed a moment musingly at both; then quaffed his liquor with a
+touch of haste.
+
+Alice Windham's eyes were troubled. "David," she was hesitant, yet
+earnest. "It is really necessary to associate with people such as--well,
+you know ... James Casey, Billy Mulligan, McGowan?"
+
+He answered her with a vehemence close to anger. "Politicians cannot
+choose their weapons. They must fight fire with fire ... or lose." For a
+moment the talk lagged. Then Benito, with his sprightly gossip, sent it
+rolling on. "Sherman has turned Jim Casey and his _Sunday Times_ out of
+the Turner-Lucas building ... for attacking the banks."
+
+"He threatened to, some time ago," said Broderick.... "How goes it with
+your law, Benito?"
+
+"Well enough," said Windham, as his wife rose. She left them to attend
+the child, which had awakened. Broderick stared after her, a brooding
+hunger in his eyes. Presently, he, too, arose, and despite Benito's
+urging, departed.
+
+It was dusk when he reached the Blue Wing saloon, where "Judge" McGowan
+awaited him. A burly, forceful man, with bushy eyebrows, a walrus
+moustache perpetually tobacco-stained, and an air of ruthless command.
+"Where've you been?" he asked, impatiently, but did not wait for an
+answer. "Casey's in trouble again."
+
+"What's the matter now?" asked Broderick with a swift, half anxious
+uplift of the chin.
+
+"Oh, not his fault exactly," said the other. "Five of Gwin's men
+attacked him. Tried to kill him probably. But Jim's a tough lad. He laid
+one out, took his pistol and shot another. The rest vamoosed. Jim's in
+jail ... for disturbing the peace," he added, chuckling grimly.
+
+"Well, Billy Mulligan will let him out," responded Broderick. "If not,
+see Scannell. Do you need bail?" He reached into his pocket and took out
+a roll of banknotes. "You'll attend to it, Ned?" he asked hurriedly.
+
+"Yes, yes," returned the tall man. "That's all right.... I wish it
+hadn't happened, though. We're none too strong ... with seven murderers
+in the jail.... They'll bring up Casey's prison record at the
+examination. See if they don't."
+
+Broderick turned away.
+
+At the bar he greeted "General" Billy Richardson, deputy United States
+Marshal. They had a drink together.
+
+"James King of William's crusading with The Bulletin," said Richardson,
+"he threatens to run all the crooks out of town. It's making a good
+deal of talk."
+
+"But King's not a newspaper man," retorted Broderick, puzzled. "He's a
+banker. How's he going to run a journal? That takes money--experience."
+
+"Quien sabe?" Richardson vouchsafed. "Sinton of Selover and Sinton's his
+financial backer. Jim Nesbitt helps with the writing. You know Nesbitt,
+don't you? Slings a wicked pen. But King writes his own editorials I'm
+told. He's got a big job on his hands--cleaning up San Francisco.... You
+ought to know, Dave Broderick," he laughed meaningly. "Here's to
+him, anyhow."
+
+"Don't know if I should drink to that or not," Broderick ruminated,
+smiling. "May get after me. I'll take a chance, though. King's straight.
+I can always get on with a straight man." He raised his glass.
+
+A friend of Richardson's came up. Broderick did not know him, but he
+recognized at his side the well-groomed figure of Charles Cora, gambler
+and dandy. "Wancha t'meet Charley," said the introducer, unsteadily, to
+Richardson. "Bes' li'l man ever lived." Richardson held out his hand a
+bit reluctantly. Cora's sort were somewhat declasse. "Have a drink?"
+he invited.
+
+Broderick left them together. Later he saw Richardson quit the gambler's
+presence abruptly. The other took a few steps after him, then fell back
+with a shrug. Broderick heard the deputy-marshal mutter: "Too damned
+fresh; positively insulting," but he thought little of it. Richardson
+was apt to grow choleric while drinking. He often fancied himself
+insulted, but usually forgot it quickly. So Broderick merely smiled.
+
+On the following day he chanced again upon Richardson, who, to
+Broderick's astonishment, still brooded over Cora's "impudent remark."
+He did not seem to know just what it was, but the offensive flavor of
+it lingered.
+
+"Wonder where he is?" he kept repeating. "Deserves to be thrashed.
+Confound his impertinence. May do it yet."
+
+He was drinking. Broderick glanced apprehensively about. The gambler's
+sleek form was not in evidence. McGowan came in with Casey and Mulligan.
+Casey, too, had been drinking. He was in an evil humor, his usually
+jovial face sullen and vengeful.
+
+"Damn the newspapers," he exploded. "They've printed the Sing Sing yarn
+on me again. It was brought out at the arraignment."
+
+"Confound it, Broderick, haven't you any influence at all? Can't you
+keep such stuff out of type?"
+
+"Sometimes--if I know about it in advance. I'm sorry, Jim."
+
+"They tell me King of William's going to print it in the _Bulletin_.
+Better see him."
+
+"No use," put in McGowan, "that fellow's so straight (he sneered the
+word) that he leans over backward. Somebody'll fix him though ... you'll
+see." The trio wandered off to Broderick's relief, making their exit
+just as Cora entered the door. The gambler approached Richardson. They
+had a drink together, some rather loud, conversation. Broderick feared
+it would develop into a quarrel, but evidently they patched a truce
+between them, for soon they went out arm in arm.
+
+His thought turned to Alice Windham. In a kind of reverie he left the
+Blue Wing, walking without sense of direction. It was getting dark; a
+chilling touch of fog was in the air--almost, it seemed to Broderick,
+like a premonition. On Clay, near Montgomery, he passed two men standing
+in a doorway; it was too dark to see their faces. Some impulse bade him
+stop, but he repressed it. Later he heard a shot, men running. But his
+mood was not for street brawls. He went on.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL
+
+THE STORM GATHERS
+
+It was Nesbitt who told Broderick of the murder. Nesbitt, of whom
+Richardson had said the night before, "he slings a wicked pen."
+
+"My God, Jim, this is awful!" Broderick exclaimed. "You're sure there's
+no mistake ... I saw the two of them go out arm in arm."
+
+"Mistake! I wish it were," cried Nesbitt angrily. "No, poor Billy
+Richardson is dead. Cora's in jail.... They say Cora laughed when he
+went to prison with Scannell.... Scannell and Mulligan!" He spat out the
+words with a savage distaste.
+
+"Let me show you something, Dave. A reporter from the New York _Express_
+was out here gathering data--crime statistics for the year. He showed it
+to me. Listen to this: Four hundred and eighty-nine murders in
+California during ten months. Six executions by sheriffs, forty-six
+hanged by mobs; that makes fifty-two in all."
+
+He tapped the paper with his lean forefinger. "Probably two hundred of
+these killings were local.... And in the entire history of this city
+there's been exactly one legal execution. That was in 1852."
+
+Broderick shook his head. "What are you going to do with that stuff?"
+asked Broderick.
+
+"Publish it in the _Bulletin_," returned Nesbitt decisively. "We're
+going to stir things up."
+
+They walked along together, Broderick's head bent in thought. Everywhere
+people were discussing the evening's tragedy. More than once "Judge
+Lynch's" name was mentioned threateningly.
+
+About the jail men swarmed, coming and going in an excited human tide.
+Some brandished fists at the unresponsive brick walls or called threats
+against Cora. As Broderick and Nesbitt passed the door, a handsome and
+richly clad woman emerged. Trickling tears had devastated the cosmetic
+smoothness of her cheeks. Her eyes looked frantic. But she proceeded
+calmly, almost haughtily to a waiting carriage. The driver whipped his
+horses and the equipage rolled on through a scattering crowd, some of
+whom shouted epithets after it.
+
+"That was Belle Cora, who keeps that bawdy house up town," Nesbitt
+volunteered.
+
+"Yes," said Broderick musingly, "she seemes to take it hard."
+
+"She's mad about the fellow," Nesbitt waved a parting salutation and
+walked toward the Bulletin office.
+
+Broderick turned homeward, thinking of the two dark figures he had
+passed on Clay street where the killing had taken place. Perchance if he
+had stopped as he was minded, the tragedy might have been averted.
+Nobody seemed to know just how it came about. The thing was most
+unfortunate politically. King would stir up a hornet's nest of public
+opinion. Broderick reached his lodgings and at once retired. His sleep
+was fitful. He dreamed that Alice Windham and Sheriff Scannell were
+fighting for his soul.
+
+In the morning he met Benito on the plaza and the two encountered
+Colonel E.D. Baker.
+
+"I hear you're Cora's counsel," said Benito with a touch of disapproval.
+
+Baker looked at the young man over his spectacles. He was a big
+impressive man whose appearance as well as his words swayed juries. He
+commanded large fees. It was to Broderick rather than Benito that he
+made reply.
+
+"That Belle woman--she calls herself Mrs. Cora--came to me last night.
+By the Lord, she melted my heart. She got down on her knees. How she
+loves that gambler!... Well, I promised to defend him, confound it." He
+passed on shaking his head.
+
+"Didn't mention what his fee was," Broderick spoke cynically.
+
+"I'm informed he tried to give it back to her this morning," said
+Benito. "But she wouldn't take it. Made a scene and held him to his
+honor." He laughed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Cora's trial dragged itself into the following January on the slow feet
+of countless technicalities. Every legal subterfuge was exhausted by the
+quartet of talented and high-priced attorneys provided by Belle Cora's
+questionable fortune but unquestioned affection. The trial proved a
+feast of oratory, a mass of contradictory evidence. Before it began a
+juror named Jacob Mayer accused L. Sokalasky with offering him a bribe.
+Sokalasky, brought into court, denied the charge. And there it ended,
+save that thenceforth the "twelve good men and true" were exiled even
+from their families by the order of Judge Hagar. None the less it seemed
+quite evident as a morning paper cynically remarked, that the stable had
+been locked after the horses were stolen.
+
+On January 17 the Cora jury announced its inability to agree. The trial
+ended minus a conviction.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ned McGowan, James P. Casey, Sheriff Scannell and his aid, Billy
+Mulligan, had frequent conferences in the offices of Casey's _Sunday
+Times_. Broderick held more or less aloof from his political
+subordinates these troublous days. But Charley Duane, former chief
+engineer of the fire department, was their frequent consort. The _Sunday
+Times_ concentrated its fire chiefly on James King of William. It was
+his biting, unstudied verbiage that struck "The Federal Brigade" on
+the raw.
+
+Early in May the _Times_ accused Thomas King, the _Bulletin_ editor's
+brother, of scheming by illegal means to gain the office that
+Richardson's death had left vacant.
+
+To this imputation, the _Bulletin_ made a sharp reply. Among other items
+calculated to enrage his foe appeared the following:
+
+     "The fact that Casey has been an inmate of Sing Sing prison
+     in New York is no offense against the laws of this State; nor
+     is the fact of his having stuffed himself through the ballot
+     box, as elected to the Board of Supervisors from a district
+     where it is said he was not even a candidate, any
+     justification why Mr. Bagley should shoot Casey, however
+     richly he may deserve having his neck stretched for such
+     fraud upon the people...."
+
+There was more, but this was all that Casey read. He tore the paper into
+shreds and stamped upon it, inarticulate with fury. When at last he
+found his tongue a flood of obscenities flowed. He drew a pistol from
+his pocket; brandishing the weapon, he reached for the door knob. But
+Doane, who had brought the paper, caught his arm.
+
+"Don't be a fool. Put that pistol away," he warned. "The public's
+crazy-mad about the Cora verdict. They won't stand for shooting King."
+
+"Listen," said McGowan, craftily, "go up there and protest like a
+gentleman. Try to make the ---- insult you in the presence of a
+witness.... Afterward--we'll see."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI
+
+THE FATEFUL ENCOUNTER
+
+James King of William sat with his back toward the door when Casey,
+still a-quiver with rage but endeavoring to control himself, entered the
+Bulletin office. He stumbled over the doorsill.
+
+King turned. When he saw who the intruder was, he laid down a handful of
+proofs and rose. Casey glared at him.
+
+"What do you mean," cried the politician, trying to speak calmly, "by
+publishing that article about me in the Bulletin?"
+
+King transfixed him with accusing eyes. "About the ballot-box stuffing
+... or your Sing Sing record, Casey?" he inquired.
+
+"You--you know well enough," blustered Casey. "It's an outrage to rake
+up a man's past.... A fellow's sensitive about such things."
+
+He shook a fist at King. "If necessary, I'll defend myself."
+
+"Very well," responded King. "That's your prerogative. You've a paper of
+your own.... And now get out of here," he added curtly. "Never show your
+face inside this door again."
+
+Later at the Bank Exchange McGowan found the supervisor cursing as he
+raised a glass of whiskey with a trembling hand.
+
+"Well, did you make him insult you?"
+
+"Damn him," was all Casey could answer. "Damn him. Damn him." He tossed
+the raw liquor down his throat and poured another drink. McGowan smiled.
+
+"You can do that till Doomsday and it won't hurt him." McGowan's voice
+rang with contempt. "Is that all you can do? Are you afraid--"
+
+Casey interrupted fiercely. "I'm NOT afraid. You know it. I'll get
+even."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Never mind. You'll see," the politician muttered darkly.
+
+"You're a drunken fool," remarked McGowan. "You've no chance with King.
+He's twice as big as you. He carries a derringer. And he shoots
+straight. Listen to me." He dragged the other to a corner of the room;
+they sat there for at least an hour arguing, drinking.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+James King of William watched Casey's exit from the Bulletin with a
+smile. He recalled his wife's warning that morning as he left his home,
+"Look out for Casey, James."
+
+"Pooh, Charlotte," he had reassured her. "I've far worse enemies than
+that prison rat."
+
+She had merely smiled, smoothed a wrinkle from his coat and kissed him,
+a worried look in her eyes. Then the children had gathered round him.
+Little Annie wanted a toy piano, Joe some crayons for his work
+at school.
+
+Remembering this, King seized a desk pad, wrote on it some words of
+memoranda. Then he straightway forgot Casey in the detail of work.
+
+When the Bulletin was off the press, the pad, with its written
+inscription, caught his eye and he shoved it into a side pocket.
+
+"Well, I'm going home," he said to Nesbitt. "Must buy a few things for
+the children."
+
+Nesbitt looked up half absently from his writing. "Afternoon," he
+greeted. "Better take your derringer. Don't know what might happen."
+
+King shrugged himself into the talma cape, which he usually wore on the
+streets. It is doubtful if he heard Nesbitt's warning. With a nod to
+Gerberding he sauntered slowly out, enjoying the mellow spring
+sunshine, filtering now and then through wisps of fog. As he turned into
+Montgomery street he almost collided with Benito Windham, who, brief
+case under arm, was striding rapidly southward. They exchanged a cordial
+greeting. Benito looked after the tall courtly figure crossing
+Montgomery street diagonally toward a big express wagon. Benito thought
+he could discern a quick nervous movement back of it. A man stepped out,
+directly across King's path.
+
+He was James P. Casey, tremendously excited. His right hand shook
+violently. His hat was on one side of his head; he was apparently
+intoxicated. King did not notice him until they were almost abreast.
+
+Casey's arm was outstretched, pointed at King's breast. "Draw and defend
+yourself," he said loudly. He shut his eyes and a little puff of smoke
+seemed to spring from the ends of his fingers, followed in the fraction
+of a second by a sharp report.
+
+Benito ran with all his might toward the men. He did not think that King
+was hit, for the editor turned toward the Pacific Express office. On the
+threshold he stumbled. A clerk ran out and caught the tall figure as it
+collapsed.
+
+Benito looked about for King's assailant. He saw a group of men on
+Washington street, but was unable to distinguish Casey among them,
+though McGowan's lanky form was visible.
+
+At Benito's feet lay a pocket-memorandum marked with a splash of red.
+The young man picked it up and read:
+
+"Piano for Annie.
+
+"Crayons for Joe.
+
+"Candy--"
+
+A man with a medicine case shouldered his way in. He was Dr. Hammond.
+"Get a basin," he ordered, "some warm water." He unbuttoned the wounded
+man's coat, looking grave as he saw the spreading red stain on
+his shirt.
+
+"Will he get well, doctor?" shouted a dozen voices.
+
+[Illustration: "Draw and defend yourself," he said loudly. He shut his
+eyes and a little puff of smoke seemed to spring from the end of his
+fingers, followed ... by a sharp report.]
+
+"Can't tell ... 'fraid not," Hammond answered, and a sympathetic
+silence followed his announcement.
+
+Someone cried: "Where's Casey?"
+
+Word came that Casey was in jail. "He gave himself up," a man said.
+
+Presently there was a sound of carriage wheels. A white-faced woman made
+her way to the express office. The crowd stood with bared heads as it
+opened a way for her passage. The woman was Mrs. King. They heard
+her sobbing.
+
+Gerberding and Nesbitt came and made their exit after a short stay.
+Tears ran down Nesbitt's cheeks. "I told him so," they heard him
+muttering, "I told him so.... He wouldn't listen.... Didn't take
+his pistol."
+
+Last of all came William Coleman, lips pressed tightly together, eyes
+hard. He remained only a few moments. Benito hailed him as he emerged
+from the express office.
+
+"Any chance of recovery?"
+
+"Very little." The tone was grim.
+
+"I hate to think of what may happen if he dies?" Windham commented.
+
+"Hell will break loose," Coleman stated with conviction. "Better come
+along, Benito. I'm going to find Ike Bluxome. It's time we prepared."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII
+
+THE COMMITTEE ORGANIZES
+
+When Benito rode up Montgomery street next morning he saw a litter being
+carried out of the Pacific Express Office. Beside it, were Mrs. King,
+Dr. Hammond and John Sime. They walked very slowly and the crowd fell
+back on either side as the litter-bearers progressed.
+
+Benito's heart stood still a moment. "Is he--?" the question formed
+reluctantly upon his lips. But David Broderick, standing by,
+reassured him.
+
+"No, not dead. Thank Heaven! They're taking him to more comfortable
+quarters. A room in the Montgomery Block. They've postponed the
+operation on the artery; as a last resort."
+
+"Dave," said Windham, seriously, "do you suppose you'll be blamed for
+this?"
+
+"Good God, man! No," returned the other. "Not even Gwin would dare to
+lay this at my door. There's no politics in it. At least none of mine."
+
+"Yet Casey was one of your men. They'll say that."
+
+"Let them," answered Broderick angrily. "I've no more to do with it than
+you--nor Coleman, who, they tell me, is forming another Vigilance
+Committee."
+
+"Yes," said Windham. "They're to meet at the old Know Nothing Hall on
+Sacramento street. I'm going there now."
+
+"Well I'm bound for a talk with Will Sherman; he's been appointed head
+of the militia. Just in time I should say. He'll be needed before order
+is restored."
+
+They shook hands. Benito looked after his friend uneasily. Broderick
+was on the wrong side, the young man thought; was taking an unwise tack.
+But no one could argue with Broderick ... unless it were Alice. They
+must have Dave to dinner again.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The street in front of Know Nothing Hall, a long two-story brick
+building was already crowded. One by one men were admitted--or rejected.
+Now and then a man would fall out of the line muttering wrathfully.
+
+"They're taking mighty good care not to let any of Scannell's friends
+get in," a man behind Benito confided. "The Sheriff's sent a dozen
+'plants' this morning but Bluxome weeds them out unfailingly."
+
+After a time Benito found himself at the wicket, gazing into Isaac
+Bluxome's shrewd eyes. He was passed immediately with a smile of welcome
+and found himself in a large room of the "lodge" variety. There was a
+desk behind which sat William Coleman and Charles Doane.
+
+About one hundred men moved about talking animatedly in groups and among
+these Benito noted many of his fellows of the '51 committee.
+
+Presently Coleman spoke.
+
+"Gentlemen, it has been decided to reorganize the Vigilance Committee.
+Mr. Bluxome and I have assumed the initiative, without any idea of
+placing ourselves at the head of the organization. Neither of us desire
+more than a chance to serve--in whatever capacity you may determine. We
+have prepared a form of oath, which I suggest shall be signed by each of
+us with his name and the number of his enrollment. Afterward he shall be
+known by that number only."
+
+He read the oath: "I do solemnly swear to act with the Vigilance
+Committee and second and sustain in full all their actions as expressed
+through the executive committee."
+
+"That's good!" "That's the ticket!" affirmed a score of voices. Coleman
+held up a quill pen invitingly, "Who'll be first to sign?"
+
+"You, Mr. Coleman," said Benito firmly, "you must be our chief."
+
+A cheer followed. Coleman demurred but in vain. They would have no one
+else. So, at last he put his name upon the paper, adding after it
+"No. 1."
+
+Others came up and affixed their signatures: C.J. Dempster, the Post
+brothers, Alfred Rix, P.G. Childs and so on. Bluxome, relieved from his
+post, was No. 33. It proved in after days a potent numeral for it
+represented the secretarial seal on documents which spelled doom to
+evildoers; hope, law and order to an outraged populace.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Meanwhile, McGowan, Scannell and his clan had not been idle. On the
+night of the shooting one hundred men proceeded to the Pacific street
+wharf where the Coliah and Seabird were anchored. From each of these, by
+force of arms, but with a promise of return, they took a ship's cannon
+which they dragged by means of two long ropes, uphill to the county
+stronghold.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On Thursday morning Mayor Van Ness stalked into Turner, Lucas &
+Company's bank and button-holed the manager. This was William T.
+Sherman, late of the United States army.
+
+"Sherman," said Van Ness excitedly, "is it true that you've been
+appointed major-general in charge of the second division of the
+California Militia?"
+
+"It is," retorted Sherman. His calm demeanor as he answered, without
+even looking up from the stock sheets which engrossed him, contrasted
+sharply with the fuming unrest of Van Ness. The latter now seized
+Sherman's sleeve.
+
+"Lay those down and come with me," he urged. "We need you instantly.
+Armed mobs are organizing to destroy the jail and seize the city
+government. It's your duty, sir, your manifest duty--"
+
+"All right, mayor," Sherman said, "I'll go along." He called a clerk
+and gave some orders. Then he slipped the stock sheets into a drawer and
+took his hat from a peg.
+
+They strode along together, Van Ness gesturing and talking; Sherman's
+head slightly bent as if in thought. Now and then he asked a
+curt question.
+
+The crowd about the jail had dwindled to a few curiosity seekers. The
+center of public interest had shifted to Know Nothing Hall where
+Vigilantes were still enrolling.
+
+Sherman and Van Ness found Sheriff Scannell, Ned McGowan, Billy Mulligan
+and the prisoner Casey in vehement consultation. They welcomed the
+soldier and mayor with manifest relief.
+
+"I'm glad you came," said Mulligan, "things look bad. There'll be Hell
+poppin'--if that d---- fool dies."
+
+"If you are referring to Mr. King, speak of him with respect." Sherman's
+tone was like a whiplash. The soldier turned to Scannell. "How many men
+have you? Men on whom you can depend in a crisis?"
+
+Scannell hesitated. "A hundred maybe ... but," he looked at Sherman
+hopefully, "there's your militia. Some of them served last night."
+
+"They've refused further service," said Van Ness. "I'm told that most of
+them have gone over to the Vigilantes ... and taken their arms along."
+
+Sherman stroked his chin. "This place is not impregnable by any means,"
+he remarked. "The first thing we must do is to secure the buildings on
+each side."
+
+"Too late," groaned Scannell. "I tried to find lodgings for some of my
+guards at Mrs. Hutchinson's boarding house. She slammed the door in my
+face. I tried the other side and found that Coleman and Bluxome had an
+option on it. They've already sent men to guard both places."
+
+"Then," Sherman told them, "you cannot defend this jail against a well
+planned attack. Perhaps they'll not resort to force," he added
+hopefully. "The Governor's coming down to talk with Coleman."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII
+
+GOVERNOR JOHNSON MEDIATES
+
+On the second day after the shooting, Governor J. Neely Johnson arrived
+on the evening boat. Mayor Van Ness had sent him a panicky message,
+imploring him to drop all else and hasten to San Francisco. The Mayor
+and William K. Garrison met him at the dock. They almost pushed the
+Governor into a carriage which was driven hastily to the
+International Hotel.
+
+In his room, behind closed doors, the Governor spoke a trifle irritably:
+"What the devil's all this row about, Van Ness? The town seems quiet
+enough. You spoke of civil war."
+
+"Coleman's organized another Vigilance Committee," Garrison took it upon
+himself to answer. "You know how impulsive San Franciscans are. They're
+in for anything. Two thousand have already joined. They've bought all
+the arms in town except a few that Sheriff Scannell seized in the
+militia armories. Scannell's sent out a hurry call for deputies--"
+
+"But," broke in the Governor, incredulously, "you say Coleman's doing
+this. I can't believe it. Coleman's a good man, a quiet fellow. He's my
+friend. I'll go to him at once."
+
+He rose, but Garrison, the politic, raised his hand. "Let him come to
+you. Summon him. The effect is much better."
+
+"As you say," acceded Johnson with a smile. "Send for Coleman, with my
+compliments." He resumed his seat and picked up an Evening Bulletin,
+shaking his head. "Poor King, I hear he's dying."
+
+"A dangerous man," remarked Garrison as he left the room.
+
+"He is a lot less dangerous alive--than dead," the Mayor shivered. "As a
+reformer he'd soon have ceased to interest the public. Nobody interests
+them long. But as a martyr!" he threw up his hands. "God help San
+Francisco!"
+
+They discussed the dangers of a public outbreak till a knock at the door
+interrupted them.
+
+It proved to be Garrison, accompanied by the Vigilante chief. "Hello,
+Coleman," the Governor greeted, cordially. The two shook hands. "What's
+this I hear about your Vigilante recrudescence?" He smote his hands
+together with a catechising manner. "What do you people want?"
+
+"We want peace," responded Coleman.
+
+"And, to get it, you prepare for war. What do you expect to accomplish?"
+
+"What the Vigilantes did in '51--"
+
+Briefly and concisely he outlined the frightful condition of affairs in
+San Francisco; the straining of public patience to its present
+breaking point.
+
+"Now, Governor," he said, impressively, "you've been called on by the
+Mayor and a certain class to bring out the militia and put down this
+movement. I assure you it cannot be done. It's not the way to treat the
+question...."
+
+"What is the way, then?" Johnson asked, aggressively.
+
+"Allow us to clean our Augean stables without more than a formal
+opposition from the State. Issue your necessary proclamations to
+maintain the dignity of the law. But don't interfere with our work. We
+shall get through with it quickly--and be glad to quit, I promise you."
+
+He rose and Johnson with him. Suddenly the Governor slapped the
+Vigilante chief a rousing whack upon the shoulder. "Go ahead, old boy!
+But hurry up. There is terrible opposition. Terrific pressure."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Turn Verein Hall that evening was a busy place. A dozen companies were
+drilling on the big gymnasium floor. Men who had never shouldered guns
+were executing orders with an ardor and a concentration which concealed
+much awkwardness of unfamiliarity.
+
+The garb and condition of recruits were vividly diversified. Doctor,
+teamster, lawyer, stevedore and banker, they were actuated by a common
+spirit, working through the manual of arms together, conscious of
+no caste.
+
+Benito and Adrian, who had come in late, surveyed the drilling. Warren
+Olney, big and forceful, gave them cordial welcome. "You're both in my
+company," he informed them. "We've graded all the signers of the roll
+according to their numbers. That is, the first hundred signers make the
+first company, the second hundred another. And so on."
+
+"How about cavalry and artillery?" Benito questioned.
+
+"Oh, we'll have both, don't worry," Charles Doane answered them. "Two
+vessels in the harbor have contributed cannon; we'll mount them on the
+foreparts of wagons. That's where Olney and his men will come in. And
+we've splendid riders, though the troops are still to be rounded into
+shape." He passed on hurriedly to execute some commission. "There's a
+splendid fellow," Olney said. "He's to be grand marshal of our forces."
+He took Benito and Adrian by the arm and led them toward a group of
+waiting men. "We must get our battery organized."
+
+A messenger strode hastily across the room seeking Coleman, who
+conferred with Doane in a distant corner. "The Governor's outside," he
+whispered as he passed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Coleman, entering the ante-room in answer to a summons, found Governor
+Johnson; his brother; W. K. Garrison and William Sherman, head of the
+somewhat depleted militia. A subtle change was noticeable in Johnson's
+manner. He spoke with brusque official authority, as if no previous
+interview had taken place:
+
+"Mr. Coleman, what are you and your committee plotting? Can't this
+trouble be adjusted here and now?"
+
+Coleman accepted the situation. He saw that opposition forces had been
+active.
+
+"We are tired of outlawry and assassination, Governor," he answered.
+"We've determined to endure them no longer. Street shooting's got
+to stop!"
+
+"I agree with you," the Governor admitted. "I've come down from
+Sacramento to aid. But this is a matter for the courts, and not for you
+to adjust. Our judges are honest. You can't impugn a man like Norton."
+He lowered his voice. "I'll see that Norton tries the case; that a grand
+jury indicts Casey. I'll do everything I can to force a trial, a
+conviction--and a speedy execution.... I've no right to make such
+promises. But I'll do it--to save this city the disgrace of a mob."
+
+Coleman raised his head. "This is no mob. You know it, Governor," he
+answered. "We've no faith in Sheriff Scannell nor his juries." He turned
+to Sherman. "This committee is a deliberative body, sir; regularly
+organized with officers and men, an executive council. The best men in
+the city are its members...."
+
+"And you are its Czar," remarked Garrison, tauntingly.
+
+"I am chairman by their choice--not mine," said Coleman, tartly. "To
+show you that I make no personal decisions, I will call other members of
+the council." He bowed and withdrew, returning in a few moments with the
+brothers Arrington, Thomas Smiley, Seymour and Truitt. The two sides
+went over the ground a second time. Smiley insisted that Casey be
+delivered to the Vigilantes. Johnson suggested that the committee
+continue its labors, but permit the court to try Casey, even in the
+event of King's death. An impasse loomed. Finally came Coleman's
+ultimatum: "If Sheriff Scannell will permit ten of our members to join
+the guard over Casey, this committee will agree to make no overt
+move--until our guards are withdrawn and you are notified."
+
+"Done," agreed the Governor, hastily.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV
+
+THE TRUCE IS BROKEN
+
+On the Garvez ranch, at sunset, the 17th of May, David Broderick found a
+gracious interval of peace. It seemed almost incredible to be dining in
+the patio with Benito and Alice against a background of fragrant
+honeysuckle and early roses. The long sloping mesas were bright with
+golden poppies; fleecy white clouds bedecked the azure of a western sky,
+flushing now with carmine tints. Cowbells tinkled musically faint with
+distance and from the vaquero quarters came a herder's song, a woman's
+laughter, the tinkle of a guitar.
+
+"What are you dreaming of, my friend?" asked Alice Windham, gently.
+
+"It is very like a dream," he smiled at her, "this place of yours. So
+near the city. Yet so far removed in its enchantment....
+
+"Down there," he pointed toward the town, where lights were springing up
+out of the dusk, "a man lies dying ... and a mob plots vengeance."
+
+"Oh, come," Benito voiced a protest, "we're not a mob, Dave. You know
+that." He laid a hand upon the other's arm. "I understand how hard it's
+been for you.... You're suffering for the sins of underlings unfit to
+lace your boots."
+
+"Against whom you warned me not long since," said Broderick to Alice.
+
+"Casey, Mulligan. Yes, I remember ... you resented it a little, didn't
+you?"
+
+"No," he said, his eyes upon her with that eager look, repressed and
+yearning, which she could not always meet. "No, dear lady; it was not
+resentment.... But it hurt."
+
+Alice turned from him to her husband. "Tell me what they've done today,
+Benito."
+
+Windham's eyes shone. "You should see Will Coleman. Ah, he's a leader
+incomparable. We've got nearly 6,000 men. Infantry, artillery, cavalry.
+A police force, too, for patrolling the streets day and night."
+
+"And what is the other side doing?" Alice asked.
+
+"They've got the Governor wobbling," said Benito. "Sooner or later he'll
+call out the militia...."
+
+"But they've got no ammunition, no guns, I understand," responded
+Broderick. "Sherman tried to commandeer those flintlock muskets from the
+Mexican war--several thousand of them--but Coleman got them first."
+
+"Yes," affirmed Benito. "The Sheriff's seized some scattered arms. But
+that is not what Coleman fears. It's Federal interference. They're
+trying to get General Wool to give them rifles from the arsenal at
+Benicia, perhaps a gunboat from the navy yard."
+
+"That means--civil warfare," Broderick said, aghast.
+
+Alice Windham rose and the two men with her. She took an arm of each.
+"Come," she pleaded, "let us put it all away--this turmoil of men's
+hatred ... let us walk here in the sweet-scented evening and forget."
+
+"I wish we might," said Broderick quickly. "What will happen in the next
+few days may never be forgotten."
+
+Swiftly, Alice turned to him; looked up into his face. "Do you think,"
+she asked, so low that he could scarcely catch the words, "do you think,
+Dave, that you're safe?"
+
+Broderick caught his breath. Involuntarily his eyes strayed toward
+Benito. But the latter was so patently absorbed in sunset splendors that
+Broderick sighed as if relieved. It seemed as though some holy thing had
+passed between him and this woman. In her look, her simple question lay
+a shadowy, half-spoken answer to his heart's unuttered prayer. For a
+moment the world seemed aglow with some strange, quiet glory. Then he
+said, quite calmly: "I? Oh, yes, I'm safe enough."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Saturday passed without much change in King's condition. He was sinking
+slowly, despite his rugged strength, his will to live and the unceasing
+efforts of the city's best physicians.
+
+The Law and Order Party was being organized out of various elements that
+viewed alarmedly the Vigilantes' growing power. Religious, political,
+social elements combined in this new faction. In it were men of note,
+distinction, undisputed honor; and rascals of the worst degree.
+
+Ned McGowan, it was rumored, had gone into hiding. Broderick kept to
+himself and took no sides, yet. Many sought him for support and for
+advice, but he repulsed them tactfully, remaining in his room to read;
+walking silently about at twilight. He had a way of standing on a
+hilltop, losing count of minutes, even hours. Thus Adrian surprised him
+one evening gazing down on San Francisco's winking street lamps as the
+night came down.
+
+"Hello, Dave," he said, "why so pensive?"
+
+Quietly as he spoke the other started. "I was wondering about
+tomorrow...."
+
+"Why tomorrow?"
+
+Broderick looked around to satisfy himself that there was no one else to
+hear. "Coleman will withdraw his Vigilante guard from the jail on Sunday
+morning.... Oh, yes," he added, as the other seemed surprised, "I have
+my agents in the Committee's camp. Not to harm them. I don't hold with
+spies and treachery.... But I have to keep informed."
+
+Adrian looked at his friend, astonished. This was news to him.
+Broderick went on: "The Governor's indirectly forced their hand. Coleman
+knows that violent forces are at work to overthrow his Vigilantes; that
+the Governor's aiding them. So he's decided to strike."
+
+"Tomorrow, eh!" said Adrian thoughtfully. "That means bloodshed,
+probably."
+
+Broderick turned a gloomy countenance toward him. "I don't know," he
+answered, and resumed his gazing. Adrian went on. He looked back after
+he had gone a hundred yards. The other man remained there, immobile and
+silent as a statue.
+
+Governor J. Neely Johnson paced up and down the confines of his suite at
+the International Hotel. In a chair sprawled Mayor Van Ness, his fingers
+opening and shutting spasmodically upon the leather upholstery. Volney
+Howard leaned in a swaggering posture against the mantelpiece, smoking a
+big cigar and turning at intervals to expectorate out of one corner of
+his mouth.
+
+"Well," said Howard, "the President's turned us down. We get no Federal
+aid, I understand. What next?"
+
+Johnson stopped his pacing. "I fancy Coleman will have to answer that
+question. Our cue is to wait."
+
+"'He also serves who stands and waits'," quoted Howard sardonically.
+
+There came a knock at the door. Van Ness, arising quickly, answered it.
+A uniformed page stood on the threshold bearing a silver platter on
+which reposed two letters. Something about the incident again aroused
+Howard's sense of humor. "Like a play," he muttered. "'My Lord, the
+carriage waits.'"
+
+With an exclamation of annoyance the Governor stepped forward, took the
+two envelopes, displacing them with a bit of silver, and dismissed the
+boy. He opened both missives before examining either. Then he stood for
+a moment, a rectangle of paper in either hand, frowning.
+
+Van Ness, peering over the Governor's shoulder, read:
+
+We have given up hope for Mr. King's recovery. His death is a matter of
+days, perhaps hours.
+
+     DR. HAMMOND.
+
+     We beg to inform your Excellency that the Vigilance
+     Committee's guard at the county jail has been withdrawn.
+
+     33, SECRETARY.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV
+
+THE COMMITTEE STRIKES
+
+On Sunday morning, May 18th, all of San Francisco was astir at dawn.
+There was none of the usual late breakfasting, the leisurely perusal of
+a morning paper.
+
+In some mysterious fashion word had gone abroad that history would be
+made this morning. The odd and feverish expectancy which rides, an
+unseen herald in the van of large events, was everywhere.
+
+A part of this undue activity resulted from the summoning of male
+members out of nearly three thousand households for military duty to
+begin at 9 o'clock. Long before that hour the general headquarters of
+the Vigilantes swarmed with members.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As a neighboring clock struck noon, the Vigilantes debouched into the
+street, an advance guard of riders clearing that thoroughfare of
+crowding spectators. First came Captain James N. Olney commanding the
+Citizens' Guard of sixty picked men, so soldierly in appearance that
+their coming evoked a cheer.
+
+Company 11, officered by Captain Donnelly and Lieutenant Frank Eastman
+came next, and after them a company of French citizens, very straight
+and gallant in appearance; then a German company. Followed at precise
+and military intervals a score or more of companies, with their gleaming
+bayonets, each standing at attention until the entire host had been
+assembled. Now and then some bystander cried a greeting. On the roofs
+were now a fringe of colored parasols, a fluttering of handkerchiefs.
+One might have deemed it a parade save for a certain grimness, the
+absence of bands. There was a hush as Marshal Doane rode all along the
+line and paused at the head to review his troops. One could hear him
+clearly as he raised his sabre and commanded, "Forward, march!" At the
+sidelines the lieutenants chanted:
+
+"Hup! Hup! Hup-hup-hup!"
+
+Legs began to move in an impressive clock-work unison. Gradually the
+thousands of bayonets took motion, seemed to flow along like some
+strange stream of scintillating lights.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the roof of the International Hotel the Governor, the Mayor,
+Major-General Sherman of the State Militia, Volney Howard and a little
+group of others watched the Vigilantes as they marched up Sacramento
+street. The Governor seemed calm enough; only the spasmodic puffs from
+his cigar betrayed agitation. Van Ness walked back and forth, cramming
+his hands into his breeches pockets and withdrawing them every ten
+seconds. Volney looked down with his usual sardonic smile but his eyes
+were bitter with hate. Sherman alone displayed the placidity of
+a soldier.
+
+"Look at the damned rabble!" exclaimed Howard. "They're dividing. Some
+are going up Pacific street to Kearney, some to Dupont and ... yes, a
+part of them on Stockton."
+
+"It's what you call an enfilading movement," said Sherman quietly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the county jail were Sheriff Scannell, Harrison his deputy, Marshal
+North, Billy Mulligan the jailor, and a small guard. Some of these
+watched proceedings from the roof, now and then descending to report to
+Scannell. Cora, in his cell, played solitaire and Casey made pretense of
+reading a book.
+
+Presently Scannell entered the room where Casey sat; it was not a cell
+nor had the door been locked since the withdrawal of the Vigilante
+guard. Casey looked up quickly. "What's the latest news from King?"
+
+"He's dying, so they say," retorted Scannell.
+
+"Dave," it was almost a whisper. "You've been to Broderick? Curse him,
+won't he turn his hand to help a friend?"
+
+"Easy, Billy," said the Sheriff. "Broderick's never been your friend;
+you know that well enough. Your boss, perhaps. But even so, he couldn't
+help you. No one can.... This town's gone mad."
+
+"What d'ye mean?" asked Casey in a frightened whisper.
+
+"Billy," spoke the Sheriff, "have a drink." He poured a liberal potion
+from a bottle standing on the table. Casey drained the glass, his eyes
+never leaving Scannell's. "Now," resumed the Sheriff, "listen, boy, and
+take it cool. THEY'RE COMING FOR YOU!"
+
+At first Casey made no reply. One might have thought he had not heard,
+save for the widening of his eyes.
+
+"You--you'll not let them take me, Dave?" he said, after a silence.
+"You'll fight?"
+
+Scannell's hand fell on the other's shoulder. "I've only thirty men;
+they're a hundred to one. They've a cannon."
+
+They looked at one another. Casey closed his fists and straightened
+slightly. "Give me a case-knife, Dave," he pleaded. "I'll not let them
+take me. I'll--"
+
+Silently, Scannell drew from his boot a knife in a leather sheath. Casey
+grasped it, feverishly, concealing it beneath his vest. "How soon?" he
+asked, "how soon?"
+
+Scannell strode to the window. "They're outside now," he informed the
+shrinking Casey. "The executive committee's in front ... the Citizens'
+Guard is forming a hollow square around them.... Miers Truett's coming
+to the door."
+
+Casey drew the knife; raised it dramatically. "I'll not let them take
+me," he shouted, as if to bolster up courage by the sound of his own
+voice. "I'll never leave this place alive."
+
+Sheriff Scannell, summoned by a deputy, looked over his shoulder. "Oh,
+yes, you will," he muttered. In his tone were pity and disdain.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Early Tuesday afternoon Benito and Broderick met in front of the
+Montgomery Block. The former had just been released from duty at
+Committee Headquarters, where a guard of 300 men was, night and day,
+maintained.
+
+"Casey has spent most of his time writing since we captured him," Benito
+told his friend. "He recovered his nerve when he found we'd no intention
+of hanging him without a trial. Of course, if King should live, he'll
+get off lightly. And then, there's Cora--"
+
+"Yes, he'll be a problem, if the other one's released," said Broderick.
+"Unless King dies this whole eruption of the Vigilantes will fall flat."
+
+Benito nodded, half reluctantly. "It seems--like destiny," he muttered.
+Suddenly his head jerked upward. "What is that?"
+
+A man came running out of the Montgomery Block. He seemed excited. His
+accelerated pace continued as he sped down Sacramento street. Presently
+another made his exit; ran like mad, uphill, toward the jail.
+
+Dr. Hammond, looking very grim, came hurriedly out of the door and
+entered a closed carriage. It drove off instantly. Then everything went
+on as usual. The two men stood there, watchful, expectant. The town
+seemed unusually still. A flag on a two-story building flapped
+monotonously. Then a man across the street ran out of his store and
+pointed upward. A rope was thrown from an upper window of the Montgomery
+Block. Someone picked it up and carried it to The Bulletin Building,
+pulled it taut. On a strip of linen had been hastily inscribed the
+following announcement, stretched across the street:
+
+"THE GREAT AND GOOD IS DEAD. WHO WILL NOT MOURN?"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVI
+
+RETRIBUTION
+
+Cora's trial was in progress. In the upper front room of Vigilante
+headquarters sat the tribunal upon whose decision Cora's fate would
+rest. They were grouped about a long table, twenty-nine men, the
+executive committee. At their head sat William Coleman, grim and stern,
+despite his clear complexion and his youthful, beardless mien. Near him,
+Isaac Bluxome, keen-eyed, shrewd, efficient, made notes of the
+proceedings.
+
+Cora, affecting an air of nonchalance, and, as ever, immaculate in
+dress, sat between his counsel, Miers F. Truett and Thomas J.L. Smiley,
+while John P. Manrow acted as the prosecutor.
+
+The gambler's eyes were fixed upon the trio when he was not searching
+the faces of those other silent men about the board. They were dressed
+in black. There was about them an air of impassivity almost removed from
+human emotion, and Cora could not but contrast them with the noisy,
+chewing, spitting, red-shirted jury at his previous trial, where Belle
+Cora's thousands had proved efficacious in securing disagreement. There
+would be no disagreement here. Instinctively, Cora knew that.
+
+Marshal Doane entered. He held in his hand a folded paper. Coleman and
+the others looked at him expectantly. "It is my great misfortune to
+report that James King of William is dead," said Doane. There was a buzz
+of comment, almost instantly stilled by Coleman's gavel. "Damn!" said
+the gambler under his breath.
+
+"Gentlemen, we will proceed with the trial," Coleman spoke. The
+examination of witnesses went on. But there was a difference. Cora
+noticed it. Sometimes, with an involuntary, shuddering gesture, he
+touched the skin above his flowing collar.
+
+Casey, when informed of King's death, trembled. "Your trial begins
+tomorrow," Doane informed him. "They'll finish with Cora tonight."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Thursday morning carpenters were seen at work on the Vigilante building.
+A stout beam was projected from the roof over two of the upper windows
+facing Sacramento street; to these pulleys were attached.
+
+Platforms were extended from the window sills. They were about three
+feet long and were seen to be hinged at the sills. The ends were held up
+by ropes fastened to the beams overhead.
+
+Stouter ropes next appeared, one end passing through the pulleys
+overhead, then they were caught up in nooses. The other ends were in the
+committee rooms.
+
+Men tested the platforms by standing on them; tried the nooses; found
+them strong. Then the carpenters retired. The windows were closed.
+
+A crowd below looked up expectantly, but nothing happened until noon,
+when military companies formed lines along Sacramento, Front and Davis
+streets. Cannon were placed to command all possible approaches. The
+great alarm bell of the Vigilantes sounded.
+
+By this time every roof near by was thronged with people. A cry went up
+as the windows of Vigilante headquarters were opened. At each stood a
+man, his arms pinioned. He advanced to the edge of the platform.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Bells were tolling. Black bunting was festooned from hundreds of doors
+and windows. All the flags of the city were at half-mast, even those of
+ships in the Bay.
+
+From the Unitarian Church on Stockton street, between Clay and
+Sacramento, came the funeral cortege on its way to the burial ground at
+Lone Mountain. Everywhere along the route people stood with bared heads.
+
+Little Joe King, a son of the murdered editor, 10 years of age, sat
+stiff and stunned by the strangeness of it all in a carriage beside Mrs.
+John Sime. Mr. and Mrs. Sime were great friends of his father and
+mother, and Mrs. Sime, whom he sometimes called "Auntie," had taken him
+into her carriage, since that of the widow was filled.
+
+Little Joe did not know what to make of it all. He knew, somehow,
+vaguely, that his father had been put into a long box that had silver
+handles and was covered with flowers. He knew of that mystery called
+death, but he had not visualized it closely heretofore. The thing
+overwhelmed him. Just now he could only realize that his father was
+being honored as no one had ever before been honored in San Francisco.
+That was something he could take hold of.
+
+As the carriage approached Sacramento street the crowd thickened. He
+heard a high-pitched voice that seemed almost to be screaming. He made
+out phrases faintly:
+
+"... God!... My poor mother!... Let nobody call ... murderer ... God
+save me ... only 29 ..."
+
+Swiftly the screaming stopped. A strange silence fell on the crowd. They
+turned their heads and looked down Sacramento street. Little Joe could
+stand the curiosity no longer. He craned his neck to see. Far down the
+street soldiers were standing before a building. Everybody watched them
+open-mouthed. In front of the building on a high platform two men stood
+as if they were making speeches. But they did not move their arms, and
+their heads looked very queer ... as if they had bags over them.
+
+Then, unexpectedly, Mrs. Sime forced him back. She pulled the curtain on
+the left side of the carriage. Little Joe heard a half-suppressed roar
+go up from the throng. For an instant the carriage halted. He was
+grievously disappointed not to witness the thing which held the public
+eye. Then the carriage went on.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Later, another funeral wended its way through the streets. It was at
+night and ill attended. A handsome woman followed it with streaming
+eyes; a woman who lived by an evil trade, and the inmates of whose house
+were given over to sin. Early that morning she had married a murderer.
+Now she was a widow with a broken heart--she whom many stigmatized as
+heartless.
+
+For many years she was to visit and to weep over the grave of a little
+dark man who had touched her affections; who might, under happier
+conditions, have awakened her soul. She was Mrs. Charles Cora, born
+Arabella Ryan, and widely known as "Belle," the mistress of a
+bawdy house.
+
+A few members of Casey's fire engine company paid him final honors.
+Shrived, before his execution, he was laid in holy ground, a stone
+erected over his grave.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The city returned more or less to its normal activities. But the
+Vigilante Committee remained in active session. It had avenged the
+deaths of Richardson and King, but it had other work to do.
+
+About this time, Yankee Sullivan, prize-fighter, ballot-box stuffer and
+political plug-ugly, killed himself in Vigilante quarters, evidently mad
+with fear.
+
+Ned McGowan, made of different stuff, arch plotter, thought by many to
+be the instigator of King's murder, went into hiding.
+
+[Illustration: In front of the building on a high platform, two men
+stood.... A half suppressed roar went up from the throng.]
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVII
+
+HINTS OF CIVIL WAR
+
+After the hanging a temporary reaction took place--a let-down from the
+hectic, fevered agitations of preceding days. Members of the Law and
+Order Party were secretly relieved by the removal of Casey and Cora.
+
+"Now that they've shot their bolt, we'll have peace," said Hall
+McAllister to Broderick. But the latter shook his head. "They've only
+started, Mac," he answered, "don't deceive yourself. These Vigilantes
+are business men; they've a business-like organization. Citizens are
+still enlisting ... seven thousand now, I understand."
+
+"Damn them!" said the lawyer, broodingly, "what d'ye think they'll be up
+to next?"
+
+"Don't damn them too much." Broderick's smile held a grim sort of humor.
+"They're going to break up a political organization it's taken me years
+to perfect. That ought to please you a little."
+
+McAllister laughed. The two men shook hands and parted. They were
+political enemies--McAllister of the Southern or "Chivalry" clan, which
+yearned to make a slave State out of California; Broderick an
+uncompromising Northerner and Abolitionist. Yet they respected one
+another, and a queer, almost secret friendship existed between them.
+Farther down the street Broderick met Benito. "I've just been talking
+with your boss," he said.
+
+"No longer," Windham informed him. "McAllister didn't like my Vigilante
+leanings. So we parted amiably enough. I'll study law on my own hook
+from now on. I've had a bit of good luck."
+
+"Ah," said the other. "Glad to hear it. An inheritance?"
+
+"Something like it," Windham answered. "Do you remember when I went to
+the mines I met a man named Burthen? Alice's father, you know. We had a
+mining claim together," His brow clouded. "He was murdered at the
+Eldorado.... Well, that's neither here nor there.... But it left me the
+claim. I didn't think it was worth much. But I've sold it to an Eastern
+syndicate."
+
+"Good!" cried Broderick. "Congratulations."
+
+They shook hands. "Ten thousand," Benito informed him. "We've had an
+offer for the ranch, too. Company wants to make it into small
+allotments.... Think of that! A few years ago we were far in the
+country. Now it's suburban property. They're even talking of
+street cars."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At Vigilante Headquarters Benito found unusual activity. Drays were
+backing up to the doors, unloading bedding, cots, a number of
+cook-stoves. Men were carrying in provisions. Coleman came out with
+Bluxome. They surveyed the work a moment, chatting earnestly,
+then parted.
+
+"We're equipping a commissary and barracks," thus a member informed
+Benito. "Doesn't look much like disbanding, does it? The Chivs. think
+we're through. No such luck. This is costing me $50 a day in my
+business," he sighed. "We've got a dozen blacklegs, shoulder-strikers
+and ballot-stuffers in there now, awaiting trial. We've turned all the
+petty offenders over to the police."
+
+Benito laughed. "And have you noticed this: The Police Courts are
+convicting every single one of them promptly!"
+
+"Yes, they're learning their lessons ... but we've trouble ahead. These
+Southerners and politicians have the Governor in their pocket. He's sent
+two men to Washington to ask the President for troops. Farragut has
+been asked to bombard the city. He's refused. But General Wool has
+promised them arms from Benicia if the Governor and Sherman prove that
+anarchy exists."
+
+"They can't," Benito contended.
+
+"Not by fair means, no.... But that won't stop them. Yesterday Chief
+Justice Terry of the Supreme Court issued a habeas corpus writ for Billy
+Mulligan, Harrison came down today and served it."
+
+"What happened?" asked Benito, eagerly.
+
+"Well, the hotheads wanted to resist--to throw him out. But Bluxome saw
+through the scheme--to get us on record as defying Federal authority. So
+he hid Billy Mulligan and let Harrison search. Of course he found no
+one. We were politely regretful."
+
+"Which settles that," remarked Benito, chuckling.
+
+"Not so fast, old boy!" the other Vigilante cautioned. "Harrison's no
+fool. He couldn't go back outwitted.... So he simply lied. Wrote on the
+warrant, 'service resisted by force.'"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the following day Major General Sherman of the State Militia received
+the following document, dated "Executive Department, Sacramento, June
+2d, 1856":
+
+     Information having been received by me that an armed body of
+     men are now organized in the City and County of San
+     Francisco, in this State, in violation of law; and that they
+     have resisted the due execution of law by preventing a
+     service of a writ of habeas corpus duly issued; and that they
+     are threatening other acts of violence and rebellion against
+     the constitution and the laws of the State; you are hereby
+     commanded to call upon such number as you may deem necessary
+     of the enrolled militia, or those subject to military duty,
+     also upon all the voluntary independent companies of the
+     military division under your command--to report, organize,
+     etc., and act with you in the enforcement of the law.
+
+     J. NEELY JOHNSON.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Two days after the Governor's proclamation half a dozen of the prisoners
+in "Fort Gunnybags" were exiled by the Vigilance Committee. Each, after
+a regular and impartial trial, was found guilty of offenses against the
+law. The sentence was banishment, with death as the penalty for return.
+Under a strong guard of Vigilance Committee police the malodorous sextet
+were marched through town, and placed aboard the steamer Hercules. A
+squad of Vigilantes remained until the vessel left her dock to see that
+they did not escape. Thus did the Committee answer Governor Johnson's
+proclamation. The fortification of the Vigilante Headquarters went on.
+Hundreds of gunnysacks filled with sand were piled in front of the
+building as a protection against artillery fire. This continued for days
+until a barricade ten feet high and six feet thick had been erected with
+embrasures for cannon and a loop-holed platform for riflemen. Cannon
+were placed on the roof of the building where the old Monumental
+firebell had been installed as a tocsin of war.
+
+In the meantime Sherman was enrolling men. They came in rather fast,
+most of them law-breakers seeking protection, and a small minority of
+reputable citizens honestly opposed to Vigilante methods. But the
+armories were bare of rifles and ammunition. Sherman dispatched a hasty
+requisition to General Wool, reminding him of his promise. Days passed
+and no arms arrived. The new recruits were calling for them. Some of
+them drilled with wooden staves and were laughed at. They quit in
+disgust. Then Sherman went to Sacramento. Something was wrong. Johnson,
+nervous and distraught, showed him a letter from General Wool. It was
+briefly and politely to the effect that he had no authority to issue
+arms without a permit from the War Department.
+
+Sherman, always for action, seized his hat. "Come," he said, as though
+the Governor were a subaltern. "We'll go to Benicia. We must have a talk
+with General Wool." And the Governor went.
+
+But Wool, though courteous, proved obdurate. The militia remained
+unarmed.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVIII
+
+SHERMAN RESIGNS
+
+On Saturday, June 7, Benito found Coleman sitting at his desk in the
+executive chamber of Fort Gunnysacks. His usually cheerful countenance
+wore an anxious look, a look of inner conflict. He glanced up, almost
+startled, as Benito entered.
+
+"Fred Macondray and his party are outside," said Windham. "They would
+like to see you."
+
+"What do they wish?" asked Coleman in a harassed tone.
+
+"They're leaving for Benicia today to see the Governor," Benito
+answered. "Want your final word on mediation matters."
+
+Coleman rose with a brisk movement. He paced the room half a dozen
+times, his hands behind him, his head slightly bent, before he spoke.
+
+"Bring 'em in. Call Bluxome and as many of the Executive Committee as
+you can find."
+
+Benito departed. Presently there filed into the room nine gentlemen,
+headed by Macondray. They belonged neither to the Vigilantes nor to the
+Law and Order Party. And they were now bent on averting a clash
+between the two.
+
+"William," Macondray, acting as the spokesman, "what message shall we
+take the Governor?"
+
+Bluxome, Smiley, Dempster and others of the Executive Committee entered.
+Coleman explained to them the purpose of Macondray and his friends.
+"What shall we say to them, boys?" he asked.
+
+"Put it in your own words," Bluxome said. "We'll stand by what you
+say."
+
+Coleman faced Macondray and his companions. "Tell J. Neely Johnson," he
+announced, "that if he will consent to withdraw his proclamation we
+will, on our part, make no further parade of our forces on the street,
+nor will we resist by force any orders of the court."
+
+Bluxome and his companions nodded. Macondray looked a trifle puzzled.
+"Suppose he declines to withdraw the proclamation?" he asked,
+hesitatingly.
+
+"Then," the voice of Coleman rang, "we promise nothing."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the boat which took them to Benicia, Macondray and his friends met
+Major-General Sherman of the State Militia. They found him striding up
+and down the deck, chewing his cigar. Macondray and he compared notes.
+Sherman had been summoned for an interview with Johnson. The Governor
+planned a final onslaught of persuasion, hoping General Wool would
+change his mind; would furnish arms for the militia.
+
+"If he doesn't, it's useless. Men can't fight without guns." Macondray
+thought he noted an undertone of relief in Sherman's words.
+
+"Do you think he'll give them to you?" Macondray asked in an undertone.
+Sherman slowly shook his head. He walked away, as though he dreaded
+further questioning.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At Benicia, Sherman and the Macondray party rode up in the same 'bus to
+the Solano House. Sherman was admitted at once. The committee was asked
+to wait. Sherman entered a room blue with tobacco smoke. It contained
+four men, besides the Governor: Chief Justice David S. Terry, a tall man
+with a hard face, sat tilted back in a chair, his feet on the Governor's
+table. He had not taken off his hat. Without moving or apparently
+looking in that direction, he spat at regular intervals toward the
+fireplace. Near him sat Edward S. Baker, statesmanlike, impressive,
+despite his drink-befuddlement; Edward Jones, of Palmer, Cook & Co.,
+smaller, shrewd, keen and avaricious-eyed, was pouring a drink from a
+decanter; Volney Howard, fat, pompous, aping a blase, decadent manner,
+stood, as usual, near the mantel.
+
+They all looked up as Sherman entered. Terry favored him with a
+half-concealed scowl; Howard with an open sneer; Jones with deprecating
+hostility. Baker smiled. The Governor, who seemed each day to grow more
+nervous and irritable, held out his hand.
+
+"Well, well, Sherman," he greeted, "glad to see you." Then his brow knit
+in a kind of puzzled provocation. "What's that Vigilante Committee doing
+here with you?"
+
+Terry grunted and spat. Sherman looked them over with a repulsion he
+could not completely conceal. They were men of violent prejudices. It
+was bad to see the Governor so completely in their grasp.
+
+"They are not Vigilantes, your Excellency," he began with punctilious
+hauteur.
+
+"The hell they're not!" said Terry.
+
+Sherman ignored him completely. "My meeting with them was purely
+casual," he resumed. "They are prominent, impartial citizens of San
+Francisco, seeking to make peace. They have, I understand, seen Coleman;
+are prepared to offer certain compromises."
+
+"Aha!" cried Howard, "the rabble is caving in. They're ready to quit."
+
+Johnson looked at Sherman as if for confirmation. He shook his head.
+"Far from it."
+
+"Cannot they state their business in writing?" asked Johnson.
+
+"Send them packing, the damned pork merchants!" Terry said, as if
+issuing a command.
+
+Again the Governor seemed to hesitate. Again his glance sought
+Sherman's. "That would be unwise," returned the soldier.
+
+The Governor summoned a clerk. "Ask the committee to put their business
+in writing!" he ordered. When the man had gone he once more addressed
+Sherman: "Wool absolutely refuses to provide the militia with arms."
+
+Terry's fist smote the table with a crash. A stream of vituperation
+issued from his lips. General Wool, the Vigilance Committee and Admiral
+Farragut were vilified in terms so crude that even the other men
+surveyed the Chief Justice with distaste.
+
+Sherman turned to the door. "Governor, I've had enough of this," he
+spoke sharply. "I shall send you my resignation tonight." He went out,
+leaving Johnson to mutter distressedly. "Never mind," said Terry, "give
+his job to Volney. He'll drive the damned pork merchants into the sea."
+
+"What about rifles and ammunition?" asked Howard with sudden
+practicality.
+
+They looked at each other blankly. Then the wily Jones came forward with
+a shrewd suggestion. "Wool can't refuse you the regular quota of arms
+for annual replenishment," he said. "Get those by requisition. Ship them
+down to San Francisco. Reub Maloney is here. He'll carry them down in
+a sloop."
+
+"But they're only a few hundred guns," said the Governor.
+
+"They'll help," contended Jones. "They'll make a showing."
+
+"Suppose Coleman hears about it; he'll seize them on the bay."
+
+"Then he'll commit an act of 'piracy'," Baker said, explosively.
+
+Terry took his feet from the table, rose. "By God!" he exclaimed,
+"there's an idea! Piracy! A capital offense!" He crammed his hands into
+his pockets and strode heavily up and down.
+
+"Coleman's not likely to hear of our sending these arms," said the
+Governor.
+
+Jones poured another drink and sipped it. "Isn't he, though?" He laughed
+softly. "You fellows just leave that to me." He caught up his hat
+and went out.
+
+"A smart little man," remarked Howard Baker, complacently.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIX
+
+TERRY STABS HOPKINS
+
+The peace-makers took an early boat for San Francisco. They were
+hopelessly alienated from the Law and Order Party. After some
+deliberation they decided to call a mass meeting in front of the
+Oriental Hotel. Thus they hoped to make the Vigilante sentiment
+practically unanimous and request through popular acclaim, a withdrawal
+of the Governor's proclamation.
+
+Early on June 14, the day appointed, citizens began to gather at Bush
+and Battery streets; by noon they blocked both thoroughfares and
+overflowed into Market street. Each window, roof and balcony near by was
+filled. Women in their summer finery lent gay splashes of color, waved
+parasols or handkerchiefs excitedly at their acquaintances below.
+
+Inez Windham called to David Broderick, who was passing, "There's room
+for one more on our balcony. Come up." As he stood behind her in the
+window, stooping a little, she looked eagerly into his careworn face.
+"One might think it was a circus." He smiled.
+
+"You remind me of champagne, you San Franciscans. The inherent quality
+of you is sparkle.... Even if an earthquake came along and swallowed
+you, I think you'd go down with that same light, laughing nonchalance."
+
+Mrs. Stanley made a moue at him. "You find us--different from your
+Eastern ladies, Mr. Broderick?" she asked expectantly.
+
+He considered for a moment. "Sometimes I think it is the land more
+than the women. They come from everywhere--with all their varied
+prejudices, modes, conventions. But, after a time, they become
+Californians--like you."
+
+"That's what Benito says," returned his sister. "He's daft about San
+Francisco. He calls it his Golden City. I think"--she leaned nearer,
+"but you must not say I told you--I think he has written poetry
+about it."
+
+"Ah, yes," said Broderick, "he has that strain. And how is Alice?"
+
+"Alice is well," he heard Inez say. Then a great shout from the street
+silenced their converse. Colonel Bailie Peyton was speaking.
+
+"We are here to consider principles of the first magnitude and which may
+result in the shedding of innocent blood. One of the objects of this
+meeting is to prevent so dire a calamity.
+
+"The Vigilance Committee must be sustained or put down. If they are put
+down it must be at the point of the bayonet. The question is whether we
+shall appeal to the Governor to put them down in this way, or whether we
+shall ask him to withdraw his opposition."
+
+He looked up at the balconies across the street.
+
+"The Vigilance Committeemen have the prayers of the churches on their
+side, and the smiles of the ladies--God bless them."
+
+There were cheers and applause.
+
+Again his voice rose to crescendo:
+
+"Let us show the Governor that if he fights the Committee he will have
+to walk over more dead bodies than can be disposed of in the cemetery.
+Let us indorse all the Committeemen have done. Let us be ready to fight
+for them if necessary."
+
+The crowd broke into wild huzzas. Volney Howard and Richard Ashe, the
+naval officer, paused on a near-by corner, attracted by the uproar.
+Howard scowled and muttered something about "damned pork merchants,"
+but he looked uneasy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Vigilance Committee, undaunted by Governor Johnson's proclamation or
+the efforts of the Law and Order element, continued quietly the work of
+ridding San Francisco of its criminals and undesirables.
+
+On June 10 the National Guard of San Francisco disbanded and Marshal
+Hampton North resigned. Rumor had it that the Vigilance Committee's work
+was finished. On July 4 they would disband with a great public
+demonstration, it was rumored. Coleman did not deny this.
+
+On July 19 came news that rifles and ammunition were being shipped from
+Benicia; Wool was said at last to have capitulated. But it turned out to
+be a small annual replenishment order of 130 muskets with a few rounds
+of powder and ball. Later came the exciting rumors that John Durkee,
+Charles Rand and a crew of ten men had captured the sloop carrying these
+arms on the bay; had arrested Reuben Maloney, John Phillips and a man
+named McNab. The arms were brought to Committee Headquarters in San
+Francisco. On arrival there, perhaps through oversight, the prisoners
+were released.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Vigilance Committee made two serious mistakes. They fell into the
+Law and Order trap by committing an act of technical piracy. From this
+Durkee saved them by taking upon himself the legal onus of the seizure.
+The second error, though a minor one, proved much more serious. They
+sent Sterling Hopkins, a vainglorious, witless, overzealous wight, to
+rearrest Maloney. Coleman was not responsible for this; nor were the
+Vigilantes in a larger sense, for a few hotheads in temporary command
+issued the order. Hopkins, glorying in the quest, for any errand of
+authority made him big with pride, set out alone to execute it. He found
+Maloney in the office of Dr. Richard P. Ashe, United States naval
+agent. Ashe was companioned by adherents of the Law and Order faction,
+among them Justice David S. Terry.
+
+Pushing the doorkeeper rudely aside, Hopkins entered the room. "Come
+with me, Reub Maloney," he commanded, "you're under arrest."
+
+Maloney shrank into a corner. Ashe stepped in the constable's path. "Get
+out of here!" he thundered. "As a Federal officer I order you
+to begone!"
+
+"And I, as a judge and a Southern gentleman, will kick you out, suh."
+Judge Terry moved menacing forward. His eyes flashed. Several others
+joined him. They took Hopkins by the shoulders and pushed him none too
+gently out of the room. The door closed. He stood for a moment in the
+hall, muttering in his outraged dignity. Then he turned and ran toward
+Fort Vigilance.
+
+"We've scared the dirty peddler," Ashe said, as they watched his flying
+footsteps from a window.
+
+"He's gone for reinforcements," said another. "Let's get out of here.
+The Blues' armory is better." There was some argument. Finally, however,
+armed with pistols, they sought the street, forming a guard around
+Maloney. But they had not proceeded far down Jackson street when Hopkins
+came upon them with nine men. Both parties halted, Judge Terry standing
+in front of the prisoner; Hopkins, who was no coward for all his pompous
+tactlessness, advanced determinedly. He reached around the Judge and
+clutched at Maloney's arm. "I arrest you in the name of the Committee."
+
+"To hell with your Committee!" shouted Terry. He struck Hopkins' arm
+away and poked a derringer in the policeman's face.
+
+Hopkins countered; the pistol went flying. Terry staggered back, while
+Hopkins made another clutch at his intended prisoner.
+
+Then occurred, with lightning speed, an unexpected thing. Terry,
+recovering his balance, sprang forward, drew the bowie knife he always
+carried and plunged it, with a vicious thrust, into Hopkins' neck.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER L
+
+THE COMMITTEE DISBANDS
+
+Alice Windham and her little son, named Robert for his grandfather, were
+passing Coleman's store, en route to Benito's office; it was a pleasant,
+quiet afternoon, almost windless. The infant Robert toddled manfully
+along on his five-year legs, holding tightly to his mother's hand.
+
+Men began to rush by, jostling them in their haste. The child drew
+closer to his mother. More men passed. Some of them were carrying guns.
+Coleman, emerging hurriedly, stopped at sight of Mrs. Windham.
+
+"Better go inside," he advised, "there's trouble afoot." He picked up
+the now frightened child and escorted the mother to his office. "Sit
+down," he invited. "It's comfortable here ... and safe."
+
+Before she could thank him he was off. At the door Miers Truett hailed
+him. "Hopkins stabbed," she heard him pant. He had been running. "May
+die ... Terry did it."
+
+They went off together. Other men stood in the doorway. "By the
+Eternal!" one was saying. "A Judge of the Supreme Court! What will
+Coleman do? They can't arrest Terry."
+
+There was a silence. Then the Monumental Fire Engine bell began to toll.
+"Come on," the second man spoke with a kind of thrill. "That's
+Coleman's answer."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Terry, Ashe and their companions ran pell mell up Jackson street until
+they reached the armory of the San Francisco Blues. It was rather an
+ornate building, guarded by iron doors. These stood open as the
+fugitives entered, but were immediately closed and guarded by a posse
+of pursuing Vigilantes, effectually preventing Law and Order
+reinforcements from the outside.
+
+Meanwhile the wounded Hopkins, screaming that he was murdered, had been
+carried into the Pennsylvania Engine House close by. Dr. Beverly Cole,
+the Vigilante surgeon chief, was summoned and pronounced the wound a
+serious one. Thereupon the bell was tolled.
+
+Half an hour later several thousand men under Marshal Doane marched to
+the armory. In front of it he drew up his forces and knocked on the
+inner portal.
+
+"What d'ye want?" came the heavy bass of David Terry, a little less
+arrogant than usual.
+
+"The committee has ordered the arrest of yourself and your party,"
+answered Doane. "Will you come quietly?"
+
+There was excited murmuring; then Terry's heavy tones once more: "Do you
+mean that you will attack the person of a Supreme Court Justice?" he
+asked half incredulous.
+
+"We will arrest all those who commit or attempt murder."
+
+More whispering.
+
+"Very well," said Terry. "I will not subject my friends to violence....
+But I warn you that the consequences will be serious."
+
+Doane ignored this, waiting quietly until the door was opened. Then he
+detailed a guard for the prisoners. At 4 o'clock--an hour after Hopkins
+had been wounded--Terry, Ashe and half a dozen others were locked in
+cells at Fort Vigilance. Once more the town was quiet.
+
+"It is all over," Benito told his wife, whom he found in Coleman's
+office. "We can go home now." Little Robert slept. His mother picked him
+up gently.
+
+"What will they do with Judge Terry?" she asked in an excited whisper.
+
+"If Hopkins dies they'll hang him sure as shooting," said Benito.
+
+Sterling Hopkins did not die, despite the serious nature of his wound.
+Had he done so many a different chapter might have been recorded in the
+history of San Francisco. Hopkins lived to pass into inconsequence.
+Terry was released to wreak once more his violent hatred on a fellow
+being, to perish in a third and final outburst of that savagery which
+marred his whole career.
+
+Captain Ashe and others taken in the Terry raid were soon released upon
+parole. The Supreme Court Judge remained a prisoner in Fort Vigilance
+for many weeks.
+
+After days and nights of wrestling with the situation, the Committee
+judged the prisoner guilty of assault. As the usual punishment within
+their power to inflict was not applicable in this case, the prisoner was
+discharged. It was pointedly suggested that the best interests of the
+State demanded his resignation. To this, however, Terry paid no heed.
+
+Broderick, who had been out of town, campaigning, met Ike Bluxome on
+Montgomery street.
+
+"I thought you folks were going to disband," he spoke half-banteringly.
+And Bluxome answered with, his usual gravity. "We thought so, too ...
+but Terry jumped into the picture. Now he's boasting that the Committee
+didn't dare to hold him longer." Bluxome smiled faintly. "He was meek
+enough till Hopkins had recovered ... offered to resign and quit the
+State forever."
+
+"I believe in Terry," Broderick remarked. "He's quarrelsome, but
+brave--and honest as a judge. I spent a lot of money in a newspaper
+fight to help him through this mess."
+
+Bluxome eyed him keenly. "Yes, I know you did. I know you were sincere,
+too, Broderick. That's why we didn't bother you for bribing the editors.
+But you will get no thanks from Terry. He's against you on the slavery
+question. He'd kill you tomorrow if he got a chance. You or any other
+man that's in his way. Watch out for him."
+
+"Nonsense," said Broderick, and walked away.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On August 18th the Vigilantes paraded for the last time. There were four
+artillery batteries with an armament of fifteen cannon. Then came the
+Executive Committee followed by two companies of dragoons, each preceded
+by a band; the medical staff of fifty members, the Committee of 1851,
+some half a hundred strong, and four regiments of infantry.
+
+San Francisco was ablaze with decorations, vibrant with enthusiasm. Men,
+women, children, turned out to do the Vigilantes honor. A float symbolic
+of Fort Gunnybags was wildly cheered.
+
+Benito Windham, Adrian Stanley and their families stood at the window of
+an office which had "B. Windham, Attorney and Counselor," inscribed upon
+its door. Benito had but recently passed his law examination and Alice
+was accordingly proud.
+
+Broderick, who stood near her with an arm about young Robert, looked out
+at the pageant.
+
+"They have been my enemies," he said, "but I take off my hat to your
+Committee. They have done a wondrous work, Benito lad."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LI
+
+SENATOR BRODERICK
+
+Swept clear of its lesser rascals, San Francisco still, ostensibly, was
+ruled by Freelon, Scannell, Byrne and other officials of the former city
+government, who had defied the people's invitation to resign. They did
+little more than mark time, however. Jury-packing was at an end for the
+Committee had posted publicly the names of men unfit to judge their
+fellows, and the courts had wisely failed to place them on venires.
+
+"Wait till November," was the watchword. And San Francisco waited. A
+committee of twenty-one was appointed at a mass meeting shortly before
+the city election. By this body were selected candidates for all
+municipal offices. Their ticket was the most diversified, perhaps, that
+ever was presented to a city's voters, for it included northern and
+southern men, Republicans, Democrats, Know-Nothings, Jews, Catholics and
+Protestants. Yet there was an extraordinary basic homogeneity about
+them. All were honest and respected business men, pledged to serve the
+city faithfully and selflessly. Former Marshal Doane of Vigilante fame
+was chosen as chief of police.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Broderick was the Windhams' guest at their new home on Powell street
+overlooking the bay when Benito's clerk brought them news of
+the election.
+
+"Every reform candidate wins by a landslide," cried the youth
+enthusiastically. "I cast my first vote today, Mr. Windham," he said
+proudly, "and I'm glad to know that the ballot-box had no false bottom."
+He turned to Broderick. "Your men fared mighty well too, sir,
+considering--" He paused and reddened, but the politician clapped him,
+laughing, on the shoulder. "That's right, my boy. Be honest,"
+he declared.
+
+"It means you'll be our Senator next year," the lad said staunchly,
+holding out his hand. "They're all saying so down town. Allow me to
+congratulate you, sir."
+
+The keen, half-smiling eyes of Broderick took stock of Herbert Waters.
+Tall, shy and awkward, with a countenance fresh, unmarked, but eager and
+alert with clean ideals.
+
+"Thank you, son," he pressed the lad's hand vigorously. "Perhaps ... if
+I should get to Washington, there'll be a place for you. You'll like it,
+wouldn't you? To see a little of the world?"
+
+"Would I?" cried the youth, delighted. "Try me." He departed, treading
+on air. Alice Windham shook a finger at her guest. "Dave, you mustn't
+trifle with our little protege.... But you did it charmingly. Tell me,
+will you have to go about now, kissing babies and all that sort
+of thing?"
+
+"No doubt," he answered gaily. "So I'll practice on your little Bob." He
+caught the child up in his arms. "Got a kiss for Uncle Dave?" he asked.
+
+Robert's response was instant and vehement. Laughing, Broderick took
+from an inner pocket a long and slender parcel, which he unwrapped with
+tantalizing slowness. It revealed at last a gaily painted
+monkey-on-a-stick which clambered up and down with marvelous agility
+when Broderick pulled a string.
+
+"This, my little man," he said half soberly, "is how we play the game of
+politics." He made the jointed figure race from top to bottom while his
+eyes were rather grim. "Here, you try it, Bobbie," he said. "I've played
+with it long enough."
+
+Broderick came to them aglow with triumph. He was a big man now, a
+national figure. Only a short time ago he had been a discredited boss of
+municipal politics. Now he was going to Washington. He had made William
+Gwin, the magnificent, do homage. He had all of the federal patronage
+for California. For years it had gone to Southern men. San Francisco's
+governmental offices had long been known as "The Virginia Poorhouse."
+Now its plums would be apportioned to the politicians of the North.
+
+Everywhere one heard the praise of Broderick's astuteness. He had a way
+of making loyal friends. A train of them had followed him through years
+of more or less continuous defeat and now they were rejoicing in the
+prospect of reward.
+
+He was explaining this to Alice. Trying to at least. "One has to pay his
+debts," he told her. "These men have worked for me as hard as any
+factory slaves. And without any definite certainty of compensation. Do
+you remember young Waters who came here last December to congratulate
+me? Yes, of course, he was Benito's clerk. I'd forgotten that. Well,
+what did that young rascal do but grow a beard and hire out as a waiter
+in the Magnolia Hotel. He overheard some plots against me in a corner of
+the dining room. And thus we were prepared to checkmate all the
+movements of the enemy.... I call that smart. I'll see that he gets a
+good berth. A senate clerkship. Something of the sort."
+
+"When do you leave?" asked Alice quickly.
+
+"Tomorrow.... Gwin is going also. I'll stop over in New York." He smiled
+at her. "When I left there I told my friends I'd not return until I was
+a senator. Eight years ago that was.... And now I'm making good my
+promise." He laughed boyishly.
+
+"You're very happy over it, aren't you, Dave?" she said with a shadow of
+wistfulness.
+
+"Why, yes, to be sure," he answered. His eyes held hers. "I'll miss
+you, of course.... All of you." He spoke with a touch of restraint.
+
+"And we'll miss YOU." She said more brightly, "I know you will do us
+much honor ... there in the nation's capital." Her hand went half way
+out toward him and drew back. "You'll fight always ... for the right
+alone ... Dave Broderick."
+
+He took a step toward her. "By God! I will promise you that. I'm through
+with ward politics, with tricks and intriguing. I'm going to fight for
+Freedom ... against Slavery. They're trying to fasten Slavery onto
+Kansas. President Buchanan is a Pennsylvanian but he's dominated by the
+Southern men. Washington is dominated by them. There aren't more than
+half a dozen who are not afraid of them." He drew himself up. "But I'm
+one. Douglas of Illinois is another. And Seward of New York. I've heard
+from them. We stand together."
+
+He laughed a shade bitterly. "It's difficult to fancy, isn't it? Dave
+Broderick, the son of a stone mason, a former fireman, bartender,
+ward-boss--fighting for an ideal? Against the Solid South?"
+
+She came closer. "Dave, you must not say such things." She looked about
+her. They were alone in the room, for Benito had gone out with Robert.
+"Dave, we're proud of you.... And I--I shall always see you, standing in
+the Senate Chamber, battling, like a Knight of Old...."
+
+Her face was upturned to his. His hands clenched themselves. With a
+swift movement he caught up his hat and stick. Fled from the house
+without a good-bye.
+
+As he went down the hill with long strides, his mind was torn between a
+fierce pride in his proven strength and a heart-wrecked yearning.
+
+He started the next morning for Washington.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LII
+
+A TRIP TO CHINATOWN
+
+Samuel Brannan brought the first news from Washington. Gwin, who owed
+his place to Broderick, had after all betrayed him. The bargained-for
+double patronage was not forthcoming. Broderick was grievously
+disappointed in Buchanan. There had been a clash between them. No
+Democratic Senator, the President had said, could quarrel profitably
+with the Administration. Which meant that Broderick must sustain the
+Lecompton Resolution or lose face and favor in the nation's forum.
+Things were at a bitter pass.
+
+"What's the Lecompton Resolution?" Alice asked.
+
+"It's a long story," Brannan answered. "In brief, it means forcing
+slavery on Kansas, whose people don't want it. And on the Lecompton
+Resolution hinges more or less the balance of power, which will keep us,
+here, in the free States, or give us, bound and gagged, to the South."
+
+"And you say Gwin has repudiated his pact?"
+
+"Either that ... or Buchanan has refused to sanction it. The result is
+the same. David doesn't get his patronage."
+
+"I'm glad! I'm glad!" cried Alice.
+
+Brannan looked at her astonished. "But ... you don't know what it means.
+His men, awaiting their political rewards! His organization here ... it
+will be weakened. You don't understand, Mrs. Windham."
+
+"I don't care," she said. "It leaves him--cleaner--stronger!" She turned
+swiftly and left the room. Brannan shrugged his shoulders. "There's no
+fathoming women," he thought.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But Broderick, in far Washington, understood when there came to him a
+letter. It bore neither signature nor salutation:
+
+"When one is stripped of weapons--sometimes it is by the will of God!
+And He does not fail to give us better ones.
+
+"Truth! Righteousness! Courage to attack all Evil. These are mightier
+than the weapons of the World.
+
+"Oh, my friend, stand fast! You are never alone. The spirit of another
+is forever with you. Watching--waiting--knowing you shall win the
+victory which transcends all price."
+
+He read this letter endlessly while people waited in his ante-room. Then
+he summoned Herbert Waters, now his secretary, and sent them all away.
+Among them was a leader of the New York money-powers who never forgave
+that slight; another was an emissary of the President. Broderick neither
+knew nor cared. He put the letter in his pocket; walked for hours in the
+snow, on the banks of the frozen Potomac.
+
+That afternoon he reviewed the situation, was closeted an hour with
+Douglas of Illinois. The two of them sought Seward of New York, who had
+just arrived. To their conference came Chase and Wade of Ohio, Trumbull
+of Illinois, Fessenden of Maine, Wilson of Massachusetts, Cameron of
+Pennsylvania.
+
+Soon thereafter Volney Howard in San Francisco received an unsigned
+telegram, supposedly from Gwin:
+
+Unexpected gathering anti-slavery forces. Looks bad for Lecompton
+Resolution. President worried about California.
+
+In the southeastern part of San Francisco a few tea and silk merchants
+had, years before, established the nucleus of an Oriental quarter.
+Gradually it had grown until there were provision shops where
+queer-looking dried vegetables, oysters strung necklace-wise on rings of
+bamboo, eggs preserved in a kind of brown mold, strange brown nuts and
+sweetmeats were displayed; there were drugs-shops with wondrous gold and
+ebony fret work, temples with squat gods above amazing shrines.
+
+There were stark-odored fish-stalls in alleyways so narrow that the sun
+touched them rarely, barred upper-windows from which the faces of
+slant-eyed women peeped in eager wistfulness as if upon an unfamiliar
+world. Cellar doorways from which slipper-shod, pasty-faced Cantonese
+crept furtively at dawn; sentineled portals, which gave ingress to
+gambling houses protected by sheet-iron doors.
+
+On a pleasant Sunday, early in February, Benito, Alice, Adrian and Inez
+walked in Chinatown with David Broderick. The latter was about to leave
+for Washington to attend his second session in Congress. Things had
+fared ill with him politically there and at home.
+
+Just now David Broderick was trying to forget Congress and those battles
+which the next few weeks were sure to bring. He wanted to carry with him
+to Washington the memory of Alice Windham as she walked beside him in
+the mellow Winter sunshine. An odor of fruit blossoms came to them
+almost unreally sweet, and farther down the street they saw many little
+street-stands where flowering branches of prune and almond were
+displayed.
+
+"It's their New Year festival," Adrian explained. "Come, we'll visit
+some of the shops; they'll give us tea and cakes, for that's
+their custom."
+
+"How interesting!" remarked Inez. She shook hands cordially with a
+grave, handsomely gowned Chinese merchant, whose emporium they now
+entered. To her astonishment he greeted her in perfect English. "A
+graduate of Harvard College," Broderick whispered in her ear.
+
+Wong Lee brought forward a tray on which was an assortment of strange
+sweetmeats in little porcelain dishes; he poured from a large tea-pot a
+tiny bowl of tea for each of his visitors. While they drank and nibbled
+at the candy he pressed his hands together, moved them up and down and
+bowed low as a visitor entered; the latter soon departed, apparently
+abashed by the Americans.
+
+"He would not mingle with the 'foreign devils,'" Broderick smiled. "That
+was Chang Foo, who runs the Hall of Everlasting Fortune, wasn't it?"
+
+"Yes, the gambling house," Wong Lee answered. "A bad man," his voice
+sank to a whisper. "Chief of the Hip Lee tong, for the protection of the
+trade in slave women. He came, no doubt, to threaten me because I am
+harboring a Christian convert. See," he opened a drawer and took
+therefrom a rectangle of red paper. "Last night this was found on my
+door. It reads something like this:
+
+"Withdraw your shelter from the renegade Po Lun, who renounces the gods
+of his fathers. Send him forth to meet his fate--lest the blade of an
+avenger cleave your meddling skull."
+
+"Po was a member of the Hip Yees when he was converted; they stole a
+Chinese maiden--his beloved and Po Sun hoped to rescue her. That is why
+he joined that band of rascals."
+
+"And did he succeed?" asked Alice.
+
+"No," Wong Lee sighed. "They spirited her away--out of the city. She is
+doubtless in some slave house at Vancouver or Seattle. Poor Po! He is
+heartbroken."
+
+"And what of yourself; are you not in danger?" Broderick questioned.
+
+Wong smiled wanly. "Until the New Year season ends I am safe at any
+rate."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIII
+
+ENTER PO LUN
+
+Broderick returned to Washington; he wrote seldom, but the newspapers
+printed, now and then, extracts from his speeches. The Democrats were
+once more a dominating power and their organs naturally attacked the
+California Senator who defied both President and party; they asserted
+that Broderick was an ignorant boor, whose speeches were written for him
+by a journalist named Wilkes. But they did not explain how Broderick
+more than held his own in extemporaneous debate with the nation's
+seasoned orators. Many of these would have taken advantage of his
+inexperience, for he was the second youngest Senator in Congress. But he
+revealed a natural and disconcerting skill at verbal riposte which made
+him respected, if not feared by his opponents. One day, being harried by
+administration Senators, he struck back with a savagery which, for the
+moment, silenced them.
+
+The San Francisco papers--for that matter, all the journals of the
+nation--printed Broderick's words conspicuously. And, as they held with
+North or South, with Abolition or with Slavery, they praised or
+censured him.
+
+"I hope, in mercy to the boasted intelligence of this age, the
+historian, when writing the history of these times, will ascribe the
+attempt of the President to enforce the Lecompton resolution upon an
+unwilling people to the fading intellect, the petulant passion and the
+trembling dotage of an old man on the verge of the grave."
+
+"Buchanan will be furious," said Benito. "They say he's an old beau who
+wears a toupee and knee-breeches. All Washington that dares to do so
+will be laughing at him, especially the ladies."
+
+Benito returned from the office one foggy June evening with a copy of
+The Bulletin that contained a speech by Broderick. It was dusk and Alice
+had lighted the lamp to read the Washington dispatch as she always did
+with eager interest, when there came a light, almost stealthy knock at
+the door. Benito, rather startled, opened it. There stood a Chinese
+youth of about 18, wrapped in a huge disguising cloak. He bowed low
+several times, then held forth a letter addressed in brush-fashioned,
+India-ink letters to "B. Windham Esquire."
+
+Curiously he opened it and read:
+
+"The hand of the 'avenger' has smitten. I have not long to live. Will
+you, in your honorable kindness, protect my nephew, Po Lun? He will make
+a good and faithful servant, requiting kindness with zeal. May the Lord
+of Heaven bless you."
+
+"WONG LEE."
+
+Excitedly and with many gestures Po Lun described the killing of his
+uncle by a Hip Yee "hatchetman." But even in his dying hour Wong Lee had
+found means to protect a kinsman. Po Lun wept as he told of Wong Lee's
+goodness. Suddenly he knelt and touched his forehead three times to the
+floor at Alice's feet. "Missee, please, you let me stay?" he pleaded.
+"Po Lun plenty work. Washee, cookee, clean-em house." His glance strayed
+toward the cradle. "Takem care you' li'l boy."
+
+Benito glanced at Alice questioningly. "Would you--trust him?" he
+whispered.
+
+"Yes," she said impulsively. "He has a good face ... and we need a
+servant." She beckoned to Po Lun. "Come, I will show you the kitchen and
+a place to sleep."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Broderick came back from Washington and entered actively into the State
+campaign. He found its politics a hodge-podge of unsettled, bitter
+policies. The Republicans made overtures to him; they sought a coalition
+with the Anti-Lecompton Democrats as opposed to Chivalry or Solid South
+Democracy.
+
+Benito and Alice saw little of Broderick. He was here, there,
+everywhere, making impassioned, often violent speeches. Most of them
+were printed in the daily papers.
+
+"They'll be duelling soon," said Windham anxiously, as he read of
+Broderick's accusations of "The Lime Point Swindle," "The Mail-carrying
+Conspiracy," his reference to Gwin and Latham as "two great criminals,"
+to the former, "dripping with corruption."
+
+Then came Judge Terry with an unprovoked attack on members of the
+Anti-Lecompton party. "They are the personal chattels of one man," he
+said, "a single individual whom they are ashamed of. They belong heart,
+soul, body and breeches to David C. Broderick. Afraid to acknowledge
+their master they call themselves Douglas Democrats.... Perhaps they
+sail under the flag of Douglas, but it is the Black Douglas, whose name
+is Frederick, not Stephen."
+
+Frederick Douglas was a negro. Therefore, Terry's accusation was the
+acme of insult and contumely, which a Southerner's imagination could
+devise. Broderick read it in a morning paper as he breakfasted with
+friends in the International Hotel and, wounded by the thrust from one
+he deemed a friend, spoke bitterly:
+
+"I have always said that Terry was the only honest man on the bench of a
+miserably corrupt court. But I take it all back. He is just as bad as
+the others."
+
+By some evil chance, D.W. Perley overheard that statement--which
+proceeded out of Broderick's momentary irritation. Perley was a man of
+small renown, a lawyer, politician and a whilom friend of Terry.
+Instantly he seized the opportunity to force a quarrel, and, in Terry's
+name, demanded "satisfaction." Broderick was half amused at first, but
+in the end retorted angrily. They parted in a violent altercation.
+
+"Dave," said Alice, as he dined with them that evening, "your're not
+going to fight this man?"
+
+"I shall ignore the fellow. I've written him that I fight with no one
+but my equal. He can make what he likes out of that. I've been in a duel
+or two. Nobody will question my courage."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Po Lun proved a model servitor, a careful nurse. Alice often left in his
+efficient hands her household tasks. Sometimes she and Benito took an
+outing of a Saturday afternoon, for there was now a pleasant drive down
+the Peninsula along the new San Bruno turnpike to San Mateo.
+
+The Windhams were returning from such a drive in the pleasant afternoon
+sunshine when a tumult of newsboys hawking an extra edition
+arrested them.
+
+"Big duel ... Broderick and Terry!" shrieked the "newsies." Benito
+stopped the horse and bought a paper, perusing the headlines feverishly.
+Alice leaned over his shoulder, her face white. Presently Benito faced
+her. "Terry's forced a fight on Dave," he said huskily. "They're to meet
+on Monday at the upper end of Lake Merced."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIV
+
+THE "FIELD OF HONOR"
+
+Chief of Police Burke lingered late in his office that Saturday
+afternoon. Twilight had passed into dusk, through which the street lamps
+were beginning to glimmer, leaping here and there into sudden luminance
+as the lamp-lighter made his rounds. Deep in the complexities of police
+reports Burke had scarcely noted the entrance of a police clerk who
+lighted the swinging lamp overhead. And he was only dimly aware of faint
+knocking at his door. It came a second, a third time before he roused
+himself. "Come in," he called, none too graciously.
+
+The door opened with an inrush of wind which caused his lamp to flicker.
+Before him stood a slight and well-gowned woman, heavily veiled. She was
+trembling. He looked at her expectantly, but she did not speak.
+
+"Please be seated, madam," said the chief of police.
+
+But she continued to stand. Presently words came to her. "Can you stop a
+duel? Will you?" Her hands went out in a gesture of supplication,
+involuntary, unstudiedly dramatic.
+
+"What do you mean?" he asked. "What duel?"
+
+"Senator Broderick ... Justice Terry," a wealth of hate was in her
+utterance of the second name. "They fight at sunrise Monday morning."
+
+"It's not our custom to--interfere in such cases," Burke said slowly.
+"What would you have me do? Arrest them?"
+
+"Anything," she cried. "Oh--ANYTHING!"
+
+He looked at her searchingly. "If you will raise your veil, madam, I
+will talk with you further. Otherwise I must bid you goodnight."
+
+For a moment she stood motionless. Then her hand went upward, stripped
+the covering from her features. "Now," she asked him, in a half-shamed
+whisper, "will you help me?"
+
+"Yes ... Mrs. Windham," said Burke.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At daybreak on a raw, cold Monday morning, Broderick, with his seconds,
+Joe McKibben and Dave Colton, arrived at the upper end of Lake Merced.
+Terry and his seconds were already waiting. The principals, clad in long
+overcoats, did not salute each other. Broderick looked toward the sea.
+Terry stood implacable and silent, turning now and then to spit into the
+sun dried grass. The seconds conferred with each other. All seemed ready
+to begin when an officer, springing from a foam-flecked horse, rushed up
+to Broderick and shouted, "You are under arrest."
+
+Broderick turned half-bewildered. He was very tired, for he had not
+slept the night before. "Arrest?" he said blankly.
+
+"You and Justice Terry," said the officer; "I've warrants for ye both.
+Come along and no nonsense. This duel is stopped."
+
+Terry began an angry denunciation of the officer, but his seconds,
+Calhoun Benham and Colonel Thomas Hayes, persuaded him at length into a
+blustering submission. Principals and seconds, feeling like the actors
+in an ill-considered farce, rode off together. Later they were summoned
+to appear before Judge Coon.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"The whole thing was a farce," Benito told his wife. "The case was
+dismissed. Our prosecuting counsel asked the judge to put them under
+bonds to keep the peace. But he refused."
+
+"Then the fight will go on?" asked Alice. Her face was white.
+
+"Doubtless," said Benito gloomily. "They say that Terry's been
+practicing with a pair of French pistols during the past two months and
+hopes to use them at the meeting. Old 'Natchez,' the gunsmith, tells me
+one's a tricky weapon ... discharges now and then before the
+trigger's pressed."
+
+"Why--that would be murder," Alice spoke aghast. "You must find David's
+seconds and warn them."
+
+"I've tried all afternoon to locate them ... they're hidden ... afraid
+of arrest."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Despite the secrecy with which the second meeting was arranged, some
+three score spectators were already assembled at the duelling ground
+when Broderick and Terry arrived. It was not far from where they had met
+on the previous morning, but no officer appeared to interrupt their
+combat. Both men looked nervous and worn, especially Broderick, who had
+spent the night in a flea-infested hut on the ocean shore at the
+suggestion of his seconds who feared further interference. Terry had
+fared better, being quartered at the farm house of a friend who provided
+breakfast and a flask of rum.
+
+The seconds tossed for position and those of Broderick won. The choice
+of pistols, too, was left to chance, which favored Terry. Joe McKibben
+thought he saw a smile light the faces of Benham and Hayes, a smile of
+secret understanding. The French pistols were produced and Hayes, with
+seeming care, selected one of them. McKibben took the other. He saw
+Benham whisper something to Terry as the latter grasped his weapon, saw
+the judge's eyes light with a sudden satisfaction.
+
+"You will fire between the words 'one' and 'two'," Colton announced
+crisply. "Are you ready, gentlemen?"
+
+Terry answered "Yes" immediately. Broderick, who was endeavoring to
+adjust the unfamiliar stock of the foreign pistol to his grasp, did not
+hear. McKibben repeated, "Are you ready, Dave?" in an undertone.
+Broderick looked up with nervous and apologetic haste, "Yes, yes, quite
+ready," he replied.
+
+"One," called Colton. Broderick's pistol spoke. Discharged apparently
+before aim could be taken; his bullet struck the ground at Terry's feet.
+Broderick, now defenseless, waited quietly. "Two," the word came. Terry,
+who had taken careful aim, now fired. Broderick staggered, recovered
+himself. His face was distorted with pain. Slowly he sank to one knee;
+sidewise upon his elbow, then lay prone.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was Sunday, September 18th. In the plaza a catafalque had been
+erected, draped in black. Upon it stood a casket covered with flowers.
+An immense crowd was about it, strangely silent. Across the platform a
+constant stream of people filed, each stopping a moment to gaze at a
+face that lay still and peaceful, seemingly composed in sleep. It was a
+keen and striking face; the forehead bespoke intellect and high resolve;
+the jaw and chin indomitable; aggressive bravery. Over all there was a
+stamp of sadness and of loneliness that caught one's heart. Friends,
+political compatriots and erstwhile enemies paid David Broderick a final
+tribute as they passed; few without a twitching of the lips. Tears ran
+down the faces of both men and women. The crowd murmured. Then the
+splendid moving voice of Colonel Baker poured forth an oration like Mark
+Anthony above the bier of Caesar:
+
+     "Citizens of California: A Senator lies dead.... It is not
+     fit that such a man should pass into the tomb unheralded;
+     that such a life should steal, unnoticed, to its close. It is
+     not fit that such a death should call forth no rebuke...."
+
+His majestic voice rolled on, telling of Broderick's work, his
+character, devotion to the people. He assailed the practice of duelling,
+the bitter hatreds of a slave-impassioned South. His voice shook with
+emotion as he ended:
+
+     "Thus, O brave heart! we bear thee to thy rest. As in life no
+     other voice so rung its trumpet blast upon the ear of
+     freemen, so in death its echoes will reverberate amid our
+     valleys and mountains until truth and valor cease to appeal
+     to the human heart.
+
+     "Good friend! True hero! Hail and farewell."
+
+[Illustration: Terry, who had taken careful aim, now fired. Broderick
+staggered, recovered himself. Slowly he sank to one knee.]
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LV
+
+THE SOUTHERN PLOT
+
+America stood on war's threshold. Even in the West one felt its
+imminence. The Republican victory had been like a slap in the face to
+slave-holding democracy. Its strongholds were secretly arming,
+mobilizing, drilling. And though Lincoln wisely held his peace--warned
+all the States which hummed with wild secession talk that their
+aggression alone could disrupt the Union--the wily Stanton, through the
+machinery of the War Department, prepared with quiet grimness for the
+coming struggle.
+
+Herbert Waters, after Broderick's death, returned to Windham's office.
+He was a full-fledged lawyer now, more of a partner than an employee.
+Waters was of Southern antecedents, a native of Kentucky, a friend,
+almost a protege, of General Albert Sydney Johnson, commanding the
+military district of the Pacific.
+
+One evening in January, 1861, he dined with the Windhams. Early in the
+evening Benito was called out to the bedside of an ailing client, who
+desired him to write a will. After he was gone, young Waters turned
+to Alice.
+
+"You were a friend of Mr. Broderick's," he said impulsively. "He often
+spoke of you ... and once, not long before he died, he said to me:
+'Herbert, when your soul's in trouble, go to Alice Windham ...'"
+
+Mrs. Windham put aside her knitting rather hastily, rose and walked to
+the window. She made no answer.
+
+Presently the boy continued: "That time has come--now--Mrs. Windham."
+
+Alice crossed the room and laid a hand upon his shoulder. "Herbert!
+What's the matter?"
+
+His voice sank almost to a whisper. "There's a plot to overthrow the
+government in California. I'm a part of it.... I don't know what to do."
+
+"You don't mean ... you're a traitor?" she asked unbelievably.
+
+"I suppose I am or must be--to some one," he said wearily. "I'm caught
+in a net, Mrs. Windham. Will you help me get out? Advise me ... as you
+did him. Oh, I know what you meant to Mr. Broderick. Your faith,
+your counsel!"
+
+"Please," said Alice sharply. "We won't speak of that. What can I do for
+YOU?"
+
+"I beg your pardon. I'm a thoughtless ass ... that's why I got into the
+pickle probably. They asked me to join...."
+
+"They? Who?" she asked. "Is he--Benito--?"
+
+"Oh, no, Benito's out of it completely. I'm a Southern boy, you know.
+That's why they let me in; a lot of them have money. A man we call 'The
+President' is our chief. And there's a committee of thirty, each of whom
+is pledged to organize a fighting force; a hundred men."
+
+Waters hesitated. "I took an oath to keep this all a secret ... but I'll
+trust you, Mrs. Windham. You've got to know something about it.... These
+men are hired desperadoes or adventurers. They know there's fighting to
+be done; they've no scruples.... Meanwhile they're well paid, ostensibly
+engaged in various peaceful occupations all around the bay. When our
+President gives the order they'll be massed--three thousand of 'em; well
+armed, drilled--professional fighters. You can see what'll happen...."
+
+"You mean they'll seize the forts ... deliver us to the enemy?" she
+spoke aghast.
+
+"I'm afraid you're right, Mrs. Windham."
+
+"Has your--ah--society approached General Johnson?"
+
+"Not yet--they're a little afraid of him."
+
+Alice Windham thought a moment. "When is your next meeting?"
+
+"Tomorrow. We are called by word of mouth. I've just received my
+summons."
+
+"Well, then," Alice told him, "make a motion--or whatever you call
+it--that the General be approached, sounded. They'll appoint a
+committee. They'll put you on it, of course. Thus you can apprise him of
+the plot without violating your oath. I don't believe he will aid you,
+for that means betraying his trust.... But if he should--come back to
+me. We will have to act quickly."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A fortnight passed. Alice had learned by adroit questioning that the
+federal army was a purely negligible defensive force.
+
+An attack would result in the easy plundering of this storehouse as well
+as the militia armories of San Francisco. Thus equipped, an army could
+be organized out of California's Southern sympathizers, who would beat
+down all resistance, loot the treasury of its gold and perhaps align the
+State with Slavery's Cause.
+
+Rebellion, civil warfare loomed with all its horrors. If the plot that
+Waters had described were carried through there would be bloodshed in
+the city. Her husband had gone to Sacramento on business. Suppose it
+came tonight!
+
+Anxiously Alice hovered near the cot where ten-year Robert slept.
+
+There came a knock at the door.
+
+"Who's there?" she asked, hand upon the bolt. Then, with an exclamation
+of relief, she opened it. Admitted Herbert Waters.
+
+He was smiling. "I took your advice.... It worked."
+
+She pushed a chair toward the hearth. "Sit there," she ordered. "Tell me
+all about it."
+
+Waters gazed into the fire half abstractedly. "Three of us were named,"
+he said, "to have a conference with General Johnson." He turned to her,
+his eyes aglow, "I'll never forget that meeting. He asked us to be
+seated with his usual courtesy. Then he said, quite matter-of-factly ...
+in an off-hand sort of way, 'There's something I want to mention before
+we go further. I've heard some foolish talk about attempts to seize the
+strongholds of the government under my charge. So I've prepared for all
+emergencies.' His eyes flashed as he added, 'I will defend the property
+of the United States with every resource at my command, with the last
+drop of blood in my body. Tell that to your Southern friends.'"
+
+"And your plot?"
+
+"It's been abandoned."
+
+"Thank God," Alice exclaimed fervently.
+
+"And thank yourself a little," he commented, smiling.
+
+"General Johnson is a brave and honorable gentleman," Alice said. "I
+wonder--who could have informed him?"
+
+Waters looked at her quickly. But he did not voice the thought upon his
+tongue.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+April 24 General E.V. Sumner arrived with orders to take charge of the
+department of the Pacific. General Johnson's resignation was already on
+its way to Washington.
+
+On the following morning came the news that Southern forces had attacked
+Fort Sumpter.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVI
+
+SOME WAR REACTIONS
+
+San Francisco adjusted itself to war conditions with its usual impulsive
+facility. Terry, who had resigned from the Supreme bench following
+Broderick's death, and who had passed through the technicalities of a
+farcical trial, left for Texas. He joined the Southern forces and for
+years California knew him no more. Albert Sydney Johnson, after being
+displaced by General Sumner, offered his services to Jefferson Davis and
+was killed at Shiloh. Edward Baker, now a Senator from Oregon, left the
+halls of Congress for a Union command. At the head of the California
+volunteer regiment he charged the enemy at Ball's Bluff and fell, his
+body pierced by half a dozen bullets. Curiously different was the record
+of Broderick's old foeman, William Gwin. In October, 1861, he started
+East via the Isthmus of Panama, accompanied by Calhoun Benham, one of
+Terry's seconds in the fateful duel. On the same steamer was General
+Sumner, relieved of his command in San Francisco, en route to active
+service. Convinced that Gwin and Benham plotted treason, he ordered
+their arrest, but not before they threw overboard maps and other papers.
+They escaped conviction. But Gwin found Paris safer than America--until
+the war had reached its close.
+
+When the first call came for volunteers by way of the pony express,
+Benito and Adrian talked of enlisting. Even thirteen-year Francisco, to
+his mother's horror, spoke of going as a drummer boy.
+
+"One would think you men asked nothing better than to kill each other,"
+Inez Windham stormed.
+
+Yet she was secretly proud. She would have felt a mite ashamed had
+Adrian displayed less martial ardor. And to her little son she showed
+the portrait of Francisco Garvez, who had ridden with Ortega and d'Anza
+in the days of Spanish glory.
+
+Lithographs of President Lincoln appeared in household and office. Flags
+flew from many staffs and windows. News was eagerly awaited from the
+battle-front.
+
+Adrian had been rejected by a recruiting board because of a slight limp.
+He had never quite recovered from a knife wound in the groin inflicted
+by McTurpin. Benito had been brusquely informed that his family needed
+him more than the Union cause at present. Still unsatisfied he found a
+substitute, an Englishman named Dart, who fell at Gettysburg, and to
+whose heirs in distant Liverpool he gladly paid $5000.
+
+But Herbert Waters went to war. Alice kissed the lad good-by and pinned
+a rosebud on his uniform as he departed on the steamer. Little Robert
+clung to him and wept when they were separated. Adrian, Benito and a
+host of others shook his hand.
+
+A whistle blew; he had to scamper for the gang-plank. The vessel moved
+slowly, turning in her course toward the Golden Gate. Men were waving
+their hats and weeping women their handkerchiefs. Alice stood misty eyed
+and moveless, till the steamer passed from sight.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Though one heard loud-chorused sentiments of Unionism, there were many
+secret friends of slavery in San Francisco. One felt them like an
+undercurrent, covert and disquieting. To determine where men stood, a
+public meeting had been called for May 11. Where Post ran into Market
+street, affording wide expanse for out-door gathering, a speaker's stand
+was built. Here the issues of war, it was announced, would be discussed
+by men of note.
+
+"Starr King, our pulpit Demosthenes, is to talk," Benito told his wife.
+"They tell me King's a power for the Union. He's so eloquent that even
+Southerners applaud him."
+
+They were interrupted by Po Lun, their Chinese servitor, who entered,
+leading Robert by the hand. The boy had a soldier cap, fashioned from
+newspaper by the ingenious celestial; it was embellished with plumes
+from a feather duster. A toy drum was suspended from his neck; the hilt
+of a play-time saber showed at his belt. The Chinaman carried a flag and
+both were marching in rhythmic step, which taxed the long legs of Po Lun
+severely by way of repression.
+
+"Where in the world are you two going?" Alice laughed.
+
+"We go public meeting, Missee," said Po Lun. "We hea' all same Miste'
+Stah King pleach-em 'bout Ablaham Lincoln."
+
+"Hurrah!" cried Benito with enthusiasm. "Let's go with them, Alice." He
+caught her about the waist and hurried her onward. Bareheaded, they ran
+out into the morning sunshine.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At Post and Market streets, thousands waited, though the day was young.
+Constantly the crowd increased. From all directions came pedestrians,
+horsemen, folks in carriages, buggies--all manner of vehicles, even farm
+wagons from the outlying districts. Most of them looked upon attendance
+as a test of loyalty. When it was learned that Governor Downey had sent
+his regrets a murmur of disapproval ran through the throng. He had been
+very popular in San Francisco, for he had vetoed the infamous Bulkhead
+bill, which planned to give private interests the control of the
+waterfront. He also pocketed a libel measure aimed at San Francisco's
+independent press. But in the national crisis--a time when political
+temporizing was not tolerated--he "did not believe that war should be
+waged upon any section of the Confederacy, nor that the Union should be
+preserved by a coercive policy."
+
+"I saw the letter," Adrian told Benito. "They were going to read it at
+first, but they decided not to. After all, the little Governor's not
+afraid to utter his thoughts."
+
+"I've more respect for him than for Latham," Windham answered. "He's to
+make a speech today. Only a few weeks ago he damned us up and down in
+Congress. Now he's for the Union. I despise a turn-coat."
+
+They were interrupted by a voice that made announcements from the
+platform.
+
+Starr King arose amid cheers. The preacher was a man of marvelous
+enthusiasm. His slight, frail figure gave small hint of his dynamic
+talents. He had come to California for rest and health. But in the
+maelstrom of pre-war politics, he found neither "dolce far niente" nor
+recuperation. He plunged without a thought of self into the fight for
+California.
+
+As he began to talk the crowd pressed forward, packed itself into a
+smaller ring. Medlied sounds of converse died into a silence, which was
+almost breathless.
+
+For an hour King went on discussing clearly, logically and deeply, all
+the issues of the Civil War; the attitude, responsibilities and
+influences of California, particularly San Francisco. He made no great
+emotional appeals; he dealt in no impassioned oratory nor invective.
+
+At the close there was a little pause, so deep the concentration of
+their listening, before the concourse broke into applause. Then it was
+hysteria, pandemonium. Hats flew in the air; whistles, cheers and bravos
+mingled. The striking of palm against palm was like a great volley.
+Again and again the preacher rose, bowed, retired. Finally he thanked
+them, called the meeting closed, and bade them a good afternoon. Only
+then the crowd began to melt. Fifty thousand people knew their city--and
+their State no doubt--were safe for anti-slavery.
+
+[Illustration: The concourse broke into applause. Then it was hysteria,
+pandemonium. Fifty thousand knew their city was safe for Anti-Slavery.]
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVII
+
+WATERS PAYS THE PRICE
+
+Months passed to a tune of fifes and drums. Everywhere men were
+drilling. At more or less regular intervals one saw them marching down
+Montgomery street, brave in their new uniforms, running a gauntlet of
+bunting, flags and cheers. Then they passed from one's ken. Each
+fortnight the San Francisco papers published a column of Deaths and
+Casualties.
+
+In due time a letter came from Herbert Waters, now a sergeant of his
+troop. Benito promptly closed his office for the afternoon and ran home
+with it; he read the missive, while Alice, Robert and Po Lun listened,
+eager-eyed and silent:
+
+"We have marched over historic ground, the trail of d'Anza, which
+Benito's forefathers broke in 1774. They say it is the hardest march
+that volunteer troops ever made and I can well believe it. There are no
+railroads; it was almost like exploring. Sometimes water holes are
+ninety miles apart. The desert is so hot that you in temperate San
+Francisco can't imagine it unless you think of Hell; and in the
+mountains we found snow up to our waists; were nearly frozen.
+
+"Apaches, Yumas, Navajos abound; they are cruel, treacherous fighters.
+We had some lively skirmishes with them. I received a poisoned arrow in
+my arm. But I sucked the wound and very soon, to everyone's surprise, it
+healed. There comes to me oft-times a strange conceit that I cannot be
+killed or even badly hurt ... until I have met Terry."
+
+There was a postscript written on a later date, proceeding from Fort
+Davis, Texas. Though the handwriting was less firm than the foregoing,
+there was a jubilance about the closing lines which even the Chinese
+felt. His eyes glowed with a battle spirit as Benito read:
+
+"My prayer has been answered. At least in part. I have met and fought
+with Broderick's assassin. It was in the battle for Fort Davis, which we
+wrested from the enemy, that he loomed suddenly before me, a great hulk
+of a man in a captain's uniform swinging his sword like a demon. I saw
+one of our men go down before him and then the battle press brought us
+together. It seemed almost like destiny. His sword was red and dripping,
+his horse was covered with foam. He looked at me with eyes that were
+insane--mad with the lust of killing; tried to plunge the blade into my
+neck. But I caught his wrist and held it. I shouted at him, for the
+noise was hideous, 'David Terry, I am Broderick's friend.' He went white
+at that. I let his wrist go and drew my own saber. I struck at him and
+the sparks flew from his countering weapon. My heart was leaping with a
+kind of joy. 'No trick pistols this time,' I cried. And I spat in
+his face.
+
+"But another's ball came to his rescue. I felt it, cold as ice and hot
+as fire in my lung. I made a wild slash at him as I fell; saw him wince,
+but ride away.... So, now I lie in a camp hospital. It has seemed a long
+time. But it is the fortune of war. Perhaps I shall see you soon."
+
+"It isn't signed," Benito seemed a trifle puzzled. Then he found, in
+back of Waters' lines, a final sheet in a strange handwriting. Hurriedly
+he rose, walked to the open door. Below, upon the bay, storm was
+brewing; it seemed mirrored in his eyes.
+
+"What is it, dear?" asked Alice following. He handed her the single
+sheet of paper.
+
+"Dead!" her tone was stunned, incredulous.
+
+Benito's arm around her, dumbly, they went out together. Rain was
+beginning to fall, but neither knew it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Several years of war made little change in San Francisco. The city
+furnished more than its quota of troops. The California Hundred, trained
+fighters and good horsemen, went to Massachusetts in 1862 and were
+assigned to the Second Cavalry. Later the California Battalion joined
+them. Both saw terrific fighting.
+
+But California furnished better than "man-power" to the struggle. Money,
+that all-important war-essential, streamed uninterruptedly from the
+coast-state mines to Washington. More than a hundred millions had
+already been sent--a sum which, in Confederate hands, might have turned
+the destiny of battle. California was loyal politically as well. Though
+badly treated by a remote, often unsympathetic government, she had
+scorned the plot to set up a "Pacific Republic" as the South had planned
+and hoped.
+
+Her secret service men were busy and astute, preventing filibustering
+plots and mail robberies. There was a constant feeling of uneasiness.
+San Francisco still housed too many Southern folk.
+
+Benito and Alice were dining with the Stanleys. Francisco and Robert
+were squatted on the hearth, poring over an illustrated book that had
+come from New York. It showed the uniforms of United States soldiers,
+the latest additions to the navy.
+
+"See," said Francisco, "here are pictures of Admiral Farragut and
+General Sherman." He was fifteen now and well above his father's
+shoulders. Robert, three years younger, looked up to admire his cousin.
+A smaller, more intellectual type of boy was Robert, with his mother's
+quiet sweetness and his father's fire.
+
+"Here's a picture of the fight between the Monitor and Merrimac," he
+cried interestedly, "When I grow up I shall join the navy and wear a
+cap with gold braid, like Farragut."
+
+"And I shall be a lawyer ... maybe a Senator or President," said
+Francisco, with importance.
+
+The men, talking politics over their cigars, did not hear this converse,
+but the women looked down at their sons, smiling fondly. "Yesterday
+Robert announced that he would be a poet," Alice confided. "He saw his
+father writing verses in a book."
+
+"And tomorrow he will want to be an inventor or a steam-boat captain,"
+Inez answered. "'Tis the way with boys.... Mine is getting so big--I'm
+afraid he'll be going to war."
+
+Po Lun interrupted their further confidences. He rushed in breathless,
+unannounced. "Misstah Windham," he spoke to Benito. "One man wanchee see
+you quick in Chinatown.... He allee same plitty soon die. He say you
+sabe him. His name McTu'pin."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVIII
+
+McTURPIN TURNS INFORMER
+
+Benito stared, bewildered, at the Chinaman. "McTurpin dying? Wants to
+see me?"
+
+Po Lun nodded. "He send-um China boy you' house. He wait outside."
+
+Benito rose. Alice laid detaining fingers on his arm. "Don't go ... it's
+just a ruse. You know McTurpin."
+
+"The time is past when he can injure me," he answered gravely.
+"Something tells me it is right--to go." He kissed her, disengaged her
+arms about him gently, and went out. Adrian signaled to the Chinese.
+"Follow him...."
+
+Po Lun nodded understandingly.
+
+A shuffling figure, face concealed beneath a broad-brimmed hat, hands
+tucked each within the opposite sleeve, awaited Windham just outside the
+door. He set out immediately in an easterly direction, glancing over his
+shoulder now and again to make certain that Benito followed. Down the
+steep slope of Washington street he went past moss-grown retaining
+walls; over slippery brick pavements, through which the grass-blades
+sprouted, to plunge at length into the eddying alien mass of Chinatown's
+main artery, Dupont street. Here rushing human counter-currents ebbed
+and flowed ceaslessly. Burdens of all sizes and of infinite variety
+swept by on swaying shoulder yokes.
+
+Benito's guide paused momentarily on the farther side of Dupont street.
+Then, with a beckoning gesture, he dived into a narrow alley. Benito,
+following, found himself before the entrance of a cellarway. As he
+halted, iron trapdoors opened toward him, revealing a short flight of
+steps. The Chinese motioned him to descend, but the lawyer hesitated
+with a sudden sense of trepidation. Beneath the pavement in this
+cul-de-sac of Chinatown, he would be hidden from the world, from friends
+or rescue, as securely as though he were at the bottom of the bay.
+
+But he squared his shoulders and went down. A door opened noiselessly
+and closed, leaving him in total darkness. A lantern glimmered and he
+followed it along a narrow passage that had many unexpected turns. An
+odor, pungent, acrid, semi-aromatic troubled his nostrils. It increased
+until the lantern-bearing Chinese ushered him into a large square room,
+lined with bunks, three-deep, like the forecastle of a ship. In each lay
+two Chinese, face to face. They drew at intervals deep inhalations from
+a thick bamboo pipe, relaxing, thereupon into a sort of stupored dream.
+The place reeked with the fumes that had assailed Benito in the passage.
+Intuitively he knew that it was opium.
+
+A voice in English, faint and dreamy, reached him. "This way ... Mr.
+Windham.... Please."
+
+A white almost-skeleton hand stretched toward him from a lower bunk. A
+bearded face, cadaverously sunken, in which gleamed bright fevered eyes,
+was now discernible.
+
+"McTurpin!" he spoke incredulously.
+
+"What's left of me," the tone was hollow, grim. "Please sit down here,
+close to me.... I've something to tell you.... Something that will--"
+
+He sank back weakly, but his eyes implored. Benito took a seat beside
+the bunk. For a moment he thought the man was dead. He lay so limp,
+so silent!
+
+Then McTurpin whispered. "Bend closer. I will tell you how to serve your
+country.... There's a schooner called the 'J.M. Chapman.' Do you know
+where it lies?"
+
+"No," Benito answered, "but that's easily discovered. If you've anything
+to say--go on."
+
+McTurpin's bony fingers clutched Benito's sleeve. "Listen," he said.
+"Bend nearer."
+
+His voice droned on, at times imperceptible, again hoarse with
+excitement. Benito sat moveless, absorbed.
+
+Above the iron-trap doors Po Lun waited patiently.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In an unlighted alley back of the American Exchange Hotel two figures
+waited, as if by appointment on the night of March 14. One was Ashbury
+Harpending, a young Southerner, and one of the Committee of Thirty
+which, several years before, had hatched an unsuccessful plot to capture
+California for the hosts of slavery. The other was an English boy named
+Alfred Rubery, large, good-looking, adventurous, nephew of the great
+London publicist, John Bright. It was he who spoke first in a guarded
+undertone:
+
+"Is everything ready--safe?"
+
+"Far as I can tell," responded Harpending.
+
+"How many men d'you get?" asked Rubery.
+
+"Twenty ... that's enough. We'll pick up more at Manzanillo. There we'll
+dress the Chapman into fighting trim, set up our guns aboard and capture
+the first Pacific Mail liner with gold out of California."
+
+"You're a clever fellow, Harpending. How'd you get those guns aboard
+without suspicion?"
+
+"Through a Mexican friend," replied Harpending. "He said he needed them
+to protect his mine in South America. Besides, we've a large assortment
+of rifles, revolvers, cutlasses. They're boxed and marked 'machinery.'"
+
+Further talk was interrupted by a group of men who approached, saluted,
+gave a whispered countersign. Others came, still others till the quota
+of a full score had arrived. At Harpending's command they separated to
+avoid attention. Silently they slipped through dimly-lighted streets,
+past roaring saloons and sailors' boarding houses to an unfrequented
+portion of the waterfront. There the trim black silhouetted shape of
+the schooner Chapman loomed against a cloudy sky.
+
+At the rail stood Ridgely Greathouse, big, florid, his burnside whiskers
+twitching.
+
+"Where the devil's Law?" he bellowed. "Lord Almighty! Here it's nearly
+midnight and no captain."
+
+"He's not with us," said Harpending quietly. But his face paled.
+Navigator William Law was the only one of whom he had a doubt. But the
+men must not suspect. "Law will be along soon," he added. "Let us all
+get aboard and make ready to sail."
+
+The men followed him and went below. Harpending, Greathouse and Rubery
+paced the deck. "He's drunk probably," commented Greathouse savagely.
+
+"Tut! Tut!" cried Rubery, "let us have no croaking." But at two o'clock,
+the navigator had not shown his face. They could not sail without a
+captain. Wearily they went below and left a sentinel on watch. He was a
+young man who had eaten heavily and drunk to even more excess. For a
+time he paced the deck conscientiously. Then he sat down, leaned against
+a spar and smoked. After a while the pipe fell from his
+listless fingers.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Ahoy, schooner Chapman!"
+
+The sleeping sentinel stirred languidly. He stretched himself, yawned,
+rose in splendid leisure. Then a shout broke from him. Like a frightened
+rabbit he dived through the hatchway, yelling at the top of his lungs.
+
+"The police! The police!"
+
+Harpending was up first. Pell mell, Rubery and Greathouse followed. A
+couple of hundred yards away they looked into the trained guns of the
+Federal warship Cyane. Several boatloads of officers and marines were
+leaving her side. From the San Francisco waterfront a police tug bore
+down on the Chapman.
+
+Greathouse stumbled back into the cabin. "Quick, destroy the evidence,"
+he shouted.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIX
+
+THE COMSTOCK FURORE
+
+Press reports gave full and wide sensation to the capture of the
+"Chapman." Chief Lees took every credit for the thwarting of a "Plot of
+Southern Pirates" who "Conspired to Prey Upon the Golden Galleons From
+California." Thus the headlines put it. And Benito was relieved to find
+no mention of himself. Harpending he knew and liked, despite his
+Southern sympathies; Rubery he had met; an English lad, high-spirited
+and well connected. In fact, John Bright soon had his errant nephew out
+of jail. And when, a few months later, Harpending and Greathouse were
+released, Benito deemed the story happily ended. He heard nothing from
+McTurpin. No doubt the fellow was dead.
+
+That troublesome proclivity of wooing chance was uppermost again in
+Windham's mind. It was only natural perhaps, for all of San Francisco
+gambled now in mining stocks. The brokers swarmed like bees along
+Montgomery street; every window had its shelf of quartz and nuggets
+interspersed with pictures of the "workings" at Virginia City. It was
+Nevada now that held the treasure-seeker's eye.
+
+Within a year it had produced six millions. Scores of miners staked
+their claims upon or near the Comstock lode and most of them sought
+capital in San Francisco. Washerwomen, bankers, teamsters--every class
+was bitten by the microbe of hysterical investment. Some had made great
+fortunes; none apparently thus far had lost.
+
+In front of Flood and O'Brien's saloon a hand fell heartily upon
+Benito's shoulder. "Come in and have a drink," James Lick invited.
+
+Lick had "made a pile" of late. He was building a big hotel on
+Montgomery street; was recognized as one of San Francisco's financiers.
+He took Benito by the arm. "We've got to celebrate. I've made ten
+thousand on my Ophir shares. Carrying any mining stock, Benito?"
+
+"No," retorted Windham. He suffered Lick to lead him to the bar. Will
+O'Brien, a shrewd-faced merry Irishman, took their orders. He and Flood
+had bought an interest in Virginia City ... "a few fate only, but it's
+goin' t' make us rich, me lad," he said enthusiastically as he set their
+glasses out upon the bar. "We'll all be nabobs soon. Ain't that the
+God's truth, Mr. Ralston?"
+
+"Sure, my boy," a deep voice answered heartily. Windham turned and saw a
+man of forty, tall, well-molded, with a smiling forceful countenance. He
+seemed to smack of large affairs.
+
+Benito sipped his liquor, listening absorbedly while Ralston rattled off
+facts, figures, prospects in connection with the Comstock lode.
+
+"The Nevada mines will pay big," Benito heard him tell a group of
+bearded men who hung upon his utterances. "BIG! You can bet your bottom
+dollar on it. If you've money, don't let it stay idle."
+
+Benito bade his friend good-bye and went out, thinking deeply. He
+wondered what Alice would say if....
+
+Nesbitt of The Bulletin interrupted his musing. "Heard the news, Benito?
+We're to have a stock exchange next month."
+
+"The brokers are opposed to it. They don't want staple values, because,
+now and then, they can pick up a bargain or drive a hard trade. And they
+can peddle 'wildcat' stocks to tenderfeet.... We must stop that sort
+of thing."
+
+"Quite so," said Windham vaguely comprehending. Nesbitt babbled on.
+"There are to be forty charter members, with a fund of $2000."
+
+He took a pencil from his pocket. Tapped Benito's shirt front with it.
+"Buy a little Gould and Curry.... I've just had a tip that it will
+rise." He hurried on.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Windham let his clients wait that afternoon. He took a walk toward Twin
+Peaks on Market street. That lordly, though neglected, thoroughfare
+began to make pretensions toward commercial activity. Opposite
+Montgomery street was St. Ignatius Church. Farther down toward the docks
+were lumber yards and to the west were little shops, mostly one-storied,
+widely scattered. Chinese laundries, a livery stable or two. The
+pavements were stretches of boardwalk interspersed with sand or mud,
+trodden into passable trails. Down the broad center ran a track on which
+for years a dummy engine had labored back and forth, drawing flat cars
+laden with sand. Now most of the sand hills were leveled above Kearny
+street. Benito picked his way along the northern side of Market street
+till he came to Hayes. There the new horse car line ran to Hayes park.
+One was just leaving as he reached the corner, so he hopped aboard. As
+the driver took his fare he nodded cordially. Benito recognized him as a
+former client.
+
+"Listen," said the fellow, "you did me a good turn once, Mr. Windham.
+Now I'll return the compliment." He leaned nearer, whispered. "Buy some
+Hale and Norcross mining stock. I've got a tip straight from the
+president. It's going up."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the spring of '64, Virginia City mines still yielded treasure
+harvests unbelievable. Windham's bank account had risen to the
+quarter-million mark. Month by month he watched his assets grow by leaps
+more marvelous than even his romantic fancy could fore-vision. Stocks
+were climbing at a rate which raised the value of each share $100 every
+thirty days.
+
+San Francisco's Stock and Exchange Board, the leading of the three such
+institutions, had quarters in the Montgomery block. Electric
+telegraphs, which flashed its stock quotations round the world, made it
+a money power in London, Paris and New York.
+
+Benito had a home now in South Park, the city's new, exclusive residence
+section. From there the Omnibus Street Railway Company, in which he was
+a large stockholder, operated horse cars to North Beach. He wore a high
+hat now and spectacles. There were touches of gray in his hair.
+
+As he entered the exchange, a nimble-fingered Morse-operator was marking
+figures on a blackboard.
+
+Windham heard his name called; turning, met the outstretched hand of
+William Ralston. They chatted for a time on current matters. There was
+to be a Merchants' Exchange. Already ground was broken for the building.
+The Bank of California, one of Ralston's enterprises, would soon open
+its doors. Ralston was in a dozen ventures, all of them constructive,
+public spirited. He counted his friends by the hundreds. Suddenly he
+turned from contemplation of the blackboard to Benito.
+
+"Carrying much Virginia City nowadays?"
+
+Benito told him. Ralston knit his brow, deliberating. Then he said with
+crisp decision, "Better start unloading soon, my son."
+
+Benito was surprised; expostulated. Ophir, Gould and Curry, Savage were
+as steady as a rock. He didn't want to lose a "bag of money." Ralston
+heard him, nodded curtly, walked away. Disturbed, rebellious, Benito
+quit the place. He wanted quiet to digest the older man's advice.
+Ralston had the name of making few mistakes. Restlessly Benito sought an
+answer to his problem. In the end he went home undecided and retired
+dinnerless, explaining that he had a headache. He awoke with a fever the
+next morning. Alice, frightened by his haggard eyes, sent Po Lun for
+a doctor.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LX
+
+THE SHATTERED BUBBLE
+
+Benito looked up from his pillows, tried to rise and found that he had
+not the strength. Someone was holding his wrist. Oh, yes, Dr. Beverly
+Cole. Behind him stood Alice and Robert.... How tall the boy looked
+beside his little mother! They seemed to be tired, worried. And Alice
+had tears in her eyes.
+
+He heard the doctor's voice afar off, saying, "Yes, he'll live. The
+danger's over--barring complications." Once more his senses
+drifted, slept.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the morning Po Lun brought a cup of broth and fed him with a spoon.
+
+"Long time you been plenty sick," the Chinaman replied to his
+interrogation.
+
+"Where's Alice?"
+
+"She go 'sleep 'bout daylight.... She plenty ti'ed. Ebely night she sit
+up while you talk clazy talk."
+
+"You mean I've been delirious, Po Lun?"
+
+The Chinese nodded. "You get well now plitty soon," he said soothingly
+and, with the empty cup, stole softly out. After a time Alice came,
+rejoiced to find him awake. The boy, on his way to school, poked a
+bright morning face in at the door and called out, "Hello, dad! Better,
+ain't you?"
+
+"Yes, Robert," said Benito. When the boy had gone he turned to Alice.
+"How long have I been ill?"
+
+"Less than a fortnight--though it seems an age." She took his hand and
+cried a little. But they were happy tears. He stroked her hair with a
+hand that seemed strangely heavy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Three weeks later, hollow-eyed, a little shaky, but eager to be back at
+work, Benito returned to his office. A press of work engaged him through
+the morning hours. But at noon, he wandered out into the bright June
+sunshine, walking about and greeting old friends. At the Russ House
+Cafe, where he lunched, William Ralston greeted him cordially.
+
+"How is the war going?" Windham asked. "I've been laid up for a
+month--rather out of the running."
+
+"Well, they're devilish hard fighters, those Confederates. And Lee's a
+master strategist.... But we've the money, Windham. That's what counts.
+The Union owes a lot to California and Nevada."
+
+"Nevada!" with the word came sudden recollection. "That reminds me,
+Ralston.... How are stocks?"
+
+But the banker, with a muttered excuse hastened off.
+
+Benito finished his coffee, smoked a cigarette and made his way again
+into the street.
+
+Presently he went into the stock exchange, almost deserted now, after
+the close of the morning session. O'Brien was there, smoking a long
+black cigar and chatting in his boisterous, confidential way with Asbury
+Harpending. The latter was babbling in real estate.
+
+"Hullo, Windham!" he greeted. "You don't look very fit.... Been ill?"
+
+"Yes," Benito told him. "Laid up since the last of May. What's new?"
+
+"Nothing much--since the bottom dropped out of Comstock."
+
+Instinctively Benito's hand went out toward a chair. He sank into it
+weakly. So that was the explanation of Ralston's swift departure.
+
+He felt the men's eyes upon him as he walked unsteadily to the files and
+scanned them. Ophir stock had dropped 50 per cent. Gould and Curry was
+even lower. Benito closed the book and walked blindly out of
+the exchange.
+
+After a time he heard footsteps following. Harpending's voice came,
+"Hey, there, Windham." Benito turned.
+
+"Cleaned out?" asked the other sympathetically.
+
+"Not--quite."
+
+"Then forget the stocks. They're tricky things at best.... I've a
+proposition that's a winner. Positively.... There's law work to be done.
+We need you."
+
+"Montgomery Street Straight" was the plan. It was to be extended across
+Market street either in a straight line or at an easy angle--over all
+obstructions to the bay.
+
+"But such a scheme would involve millions," Benito objected. "It would
+cut through the Latham and Parrott homes for instance.... Old Senator
+Latham would hold you up for a prohibitive price. And Parrott would
+fight you to a finish."
+
+"Quite right," returned Harpending. "That's where you come in, Benito.
+We want you to draw us a bill and lobby it through the Legislature...."
+
+"The thing is to make it a law. Then the Governor must appoint a
+commission. The Latham and Parrott properties will be condemned and we
+can acquire them at a fair price."
+
+"Very well," Benito answered. "It's a go."
+
+Several days after his talk with Harpending, Benito met Adrian and
+Francisco, the latter a tall, gangling lad of sixteen. Father and son
+were talking animatedly, discussing some point on which Francisco seemed
+determined to have his way.
+
+"What d'ye think of this youngster of mine?" Stanley questioned.
+"Scarcely out of short pants and wants to be a newspaper man! I say he
+should go to school a few years more ... to one of those Eastern
+colleges you hear so much about. I've the money. He doesn't need to
+work.... Talk to him, Benito. Make him listen to sense."
+
+"I don't wish to go East, Uncle Ben," said Francisco. "What good will
+it do me to learn Latin and Greek.... Higher mathematics and social
+snobbery? I want to get to work. Calvin McDonald's offered me a job on
+The American Flag."
+
+"What will you do? Write editorials or poetry?" his father asked.
+
+Francisco flushed. "I'll be a copy boy to start with.... And there's no
+harm in writing poetry. Uncle Ben does it himself."
+
+It was Benito's turn to redden. "Better let the boy have his way," he
+said hastily. "Journalism's quite an education in itself."
+
+"So, you're against me, too! Well, well. I'll see about it."
+
+They shook hands good-humoredly, the boy beaming. Afterward news reached
+Benito that young Stanley was a member of McDonald's staff.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In 1865 there came the joyous news of victory and peace. The Democratic
+Press accepted Lee's surrender sullenly, printing now and then a covert
+sneer at Grant or Lincoln. Enmity died hard in Southern breasts.
+
+One morning as he came to town Benito saw a crowd of angry and excited
+men running down Montgomery street. Some of them brandished canes. "Down
+with Copperheads," they were shouting. Presently he heard a crash of
+glass, a cry of protest. Then a door gave with a splintering sound. The
+crowd rushed through, into the offices and print rooms of the
+Democratic Press.
+
+There was more noise of wreckage and destruction. Broken chairs, tables,
+typecases, bits of machinery hurtled into the street. Benito grasped the
+arm of a man who was hurrying by. "What's wrong?" he asked.
+
+The other turned a flushed and angry mien toward him. "God Almighty!
+Haven't you heard? President Lincoln was shot last night ... by a
+brother of Ed Booth, the actor.... They say he's dying." He picked up a
+stone and hurled it at an upper window of the Press.
+
+"We'll show these traitor-dogs a thing or two," he called. "Come on,
+boys, let's wreck the place!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXI
+
+DESPERATE FINANCE
+
+The publishers of the Democratic Press had their lesson. In a city
+draped with black for a beloved President, they swept up the glass of
+their shattered windows, picked up what remained of scattered type,
+reassembled machinery and furniture--and experienced a change of heart.
+Presently The Examiner burgeoned from that stricken journalistic root.
+
+Francisco was now a member of the Alta staff, the aggressive but
+short-lived American Flag, having ceased publication several years after
+the war. Adrian admitted to Benito that the boy had justified his bent
+for journalistic work.
+
+"The young rascal's articles are attracting attention. He even signs
+some of them; now and then they print one of his verses--generally a
+satire on local events. And he gets passes to all of the theaters. Inez
+and I are going to 'Camille' tonight."
+
+"So are Alice and myself, by a coincidence." Benito lighted a cigar and
+puffed a moment; then he added, "Do you know what that boy of mine
+proposes to do?"
+
+"No," said Adrian. "Become an actor--or a politician?"
+
+"Well, it's almost as bad.... He wants to be a letter carrier.... The
+new free delivery routes will be established soon, you know."
+
+"Yes, the town's growing," commented Stanley. "Well, you'd better let
+young Robert have his way. He's almost as big as you.... How is
+'Montgomery Straight' progressing?"
+
+"Fairly well," returned Benito. "Latham and Parrott are fighting us as
+we expected. But Harpending's acquired Selim Woodworth's lot on Market
+street, just where Montgomery will cut through." He laughed. "Selim
+wanted half a million for it.... He'd have got it in a day or two
+because we had to have the property. But along comes an earthquake and
+literally shakes $350,000 out of Woodworth's pockets. Frightened him so
+badly that he sold for $150,000 and was glad to get it."
+
+"Well, even earthquakes have their uses," Adrian smiled. "Here comes
+Francisco. I'll have him see Maguire and arrange it so that we can sit
+together at the show."
+
+"Who is the lanky fellow with him?" asked Benito. "Looks as if he would
+appreciate a joke."
+
+"Oh, that's his friend, Sam Clemens," Adrian answered. "An improvident
+cuss but good company. He writes for the Carson Appeal under the name of
+Mark Twain."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Benito, that afternoon, was closeted with Harpending and Ralston in the
+Bank of California. The financier, who was backing the Montgomery street
+venture, regarded Harpending a trifle quizzically. "Once," he said, "you
+tried to be a pirate, Asbury.... Oh, no offense," he laid a soothing
+hand upon the other's knee. "But tonight I need a desperate man such as
+you. Another like Benito. We're going to raid the Mint."
+
+"What?" cried Windham, startled.
+
+"You'll need steadier nerves than that for our enterprise." Ralston
+passed his cigar case to the two men, saw them puffing equably ere he
+continued. "You know how tight the money situation has become because
+President Grant declines to let us exchange our gold bars for coin. With
+eight tons of gold in our vault we almost had a run this afternoon....
+Now, that's ridiculous." His fist smote the table. "Grant doesn't know
+the ropes.... But that's no reason why Hell should break loose
+tomorrow morning."
+
+"What are you going to do?" Benito asked.
+
+"Use my common sense--and save the banks," said Ralston shortly. "You
+two must meet me here this evening. Soon as it's dark. You'll have a
+hard night's work. My friend Dore will be there also. Can you suggest
+anyone else--absolutely to be trusted, who will ask no questions?"
+
+"My son," Benito answered; "Robert likes work. He wants to be a
+postal-carrier."
+
+"Bring him by all means," said Ralston. "If he helps us out tonight,
+I'll see that he gets anything he wants in San Francisco."
+
+He was boyishly eager; full of excited plans for his daring scheme. The
+two men left him chuckling as he bit the end off a fresh cigar.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was nearly nine o'clock when they left the Bank of California.
+Theater-going crowds were housed at the play; the streets were
+extraordinarily silent as the quintet made their way toward the Mint.
+Robert was breathing hard. The dark streets, the mysterious Empire
+ahead, the hint of danger and a mighty stake distilled a toxic and
+exhilarating fever in his blood. As the pillared front of the federal
+treasure house loomed up before them, Ralston made a sign for them to
+halt, advancing cautiously. With astonishment they saw him pass through
+the usually guarded door and disappear. Presently he emerged with
+two sacks.
+
+"Robert and Benito, take these to the bank," he whispered. "The watchmen
+there will give you the equivalent in gold bars to bring back." He
+turned to Harpending and Dore. "I'll have yours ready in a minute." Once
+more he vanished within.
+
+Robert picked up the bag allotted to him. It was very heavy. As he
+lifted it to his shoulder, the contents clinked.
+
+"Gold coin," said his father, significantly.
+
+"What if we're caught?" asked the boy, half fearfully. Ralston,
+reappearing, heard the question.
+
+"You won't be," he said. "I've attended to that."
+
+His assurance proved correct. All night the four men toiled between the
+Mint and the Bank of California sweating, puffing, fatigued to the brink
+of exhaustion. With the first streak of dawn, Ralston dismissed them.
+
+"You've brought five ton of gold coin to the vault," he said, his eyes
+agleam. "You've saved San Francisco the worst financial panic that ever
+a short-sighted federal government unwittingly precipitated." Suddenly
+he laughed and threw his arms wide. "At ten o'clock the frightened sheep
+will come running for their deposits.... Well, let 'em come."
+
+"And now you boys go home and get some sleep. By the Eternal, you
+deserve it!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXII
+
+ADOLPH SUTRO'S TUNNEL
+
+William C. Ralston's Bank of California had become the great financial
+institution of the West. Ralston was the Rothschild of America. Through
+him Central Pacific Railway promoters borrowed $3,000,000 with less
+formality than a country banker uses in mortgaging of a ten-acre farm.
+Two millions took their unobtrusive wing to South America, financing
+mines he had never seen. In Virginia City William Sharon directed a
+branch of the Bank of California and kept his eye on mineral investment.
+Benito sat in Ralston's office one morning, smoking and discussing the
+Montgomery street problem when a clerk tapped at the door.
+
+"A fellow's out here from Virginia City," he said nervously. "Wants to
+see you quickly 'and no bones about it.' That's what he told me."
+
+"All right, send him in," said Ralston laughing. "Stay, Benito. He won't
+take a minute...." Ere he finished there stalked in a wild-eyed
+individual clad in boots, the slouch hat of the mining man, a suit of
+handsome broadcloth, mud-bespattered and a heavy golden watch chain with
+the usual nugget charm. He was a clean-cat type of mining speculator
+from Nevada.
+
+"Sit down," invited Ralston. "Have a smoke."
+
+The intruder glared at Windham; then he eased himself uncomfortably into
+a spacious leather-covered seat, bit off the end of a cigar,
+half-viciously and, having found the cuspidor, began.
+
+"I've something for your ear alone, Bill Ralston...."
+
+"Meet Benito Windham," Ralston introduced. "Speak out. I have no
+secrets from my friends."
+
+The other hemmed and hawed. He seemed averse to putting into words some
+thought which troubled him beyond repression. "Do you know," he burst
+out finally, "that your partner, Sharon, has become the most incurable
+and dissolute gambler in Nevada?"
+
+"You don't say." Ralston did not seem as shocked as one might have
+expected. "Well, my friend, that sounds quite serious.... What's poor
+Bill's particular kind of--vice?"
+
+"Poker," said the visitor. "By the Eternal, that man Sharon would stake
+his immortal soul on a four-card flush and never bat an eye. Time and
+time again I've seen it."
+
+Ralston leaned back comfortably, his folded hands across his middle. His
+speculative stare was on a marble statue. At length he spoke. "Does
+Sharon win or lose?"
+
+"Well," the other man admitted, "I must say he wins...."
+
+"Then he's just the man I want," Ralston spoke with emphasis. He rose,
+held out his hand toward the flustered visitor. "Thanks for telling
+me.... And now we'll all go for a drink together."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"That's Bill Ralston!" said Benito to his wife. They laughed about the
+anecdote which Windham had related at the dinner table. Robert, in his
+new letter-carrier's uniform, spoke up. "I saw him at the bank this
+afternoon.... There was a letter from Virginia City and he kept me
+waiting till he opened it. Then he slapped me on the shoulder. 'If the
+contents of that letter had been known to certain people, son,' he told
+me, 'they'd have cleaned up a fortune on the information.' Then he
+handed me a gold-piece. But I wouldn't take it. 'Don't be proud,' he
+said and poked me in the ribs. 'And don't forget that Bill Ralston's
+your friend.'"
+
+"Everybody calls him 'Bill,'" his mother added. "Washerwomen,
+teamsters, beggars, millionaires. If ever there was a friend of the
+people it is he."
+
+"Some day, though, he'll overplay his game," Benito prophesied.
+
+Ralston had been euchered out of a railroad to Eureka, planned by
+Harpending and himself and opposed by the Big Four; "Montgomery to the
+Bay" was meeting with a host of difficulties; the Grand Hotel was
+building and Kearny street, where he owned property, was being widened.
+Ralston's genial countenance showed sometimes a little strained pucker
+between the eyes.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Now and then Benito met a man named Adolph Sutro. They called him "The
+Man With a Dream." Stocky, under average height, intensely businesslike,
+he was--a German Burgomeister type, with Burnside whiskers and a
+purpose. He proposed to drive a tunnel four miles long from Carson
+valley, and strike the Comstock levels 1800 feet below the surface.
+
+An English syndicate was backing him. The work was going on.
+
+Much of Sutro's time was spent in Virginia City, superintending the work
+on his tunnel. But he fell into the habit of finding Benito whenever he
+came to town--dragging him from home with awkward but sincere
+apologies to Alice.
+
+"You will lend me your husband, Hein?" he would say. "I like to tell him
+of my fancies, for he understands ... the others laugh at me."
+
+Alice smiled into his broad, good humored face. "That's very silly of
+them."
+
+"Donnerwetter! Some day they will laugh the other way around," he
+threatened.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Benito and Sutro usually drove or rode through the Presidio and out
+along a road which skirted cliffs and terminated at the Seal Rock House.
+There they dined and watched the seals disporting on some sea-drenched
+rocks, a stone's throw distant. And there Sutro indulged in more dreams.
+
+"Some day I shall purchase that headland and build me a home ... and
+farther inland I shall grow a forest out of eucalyptus trees. They come
+from Australia.... One can buy them cheap enough.... They grow fast like
+bamboo in the Tropics." He clapped a hand upon Benito's knee. "I shall
+call it Mount Parnassus."
+
+Benito tried to smile appreciatively. He felt rather dubious about the
+scheme. But he liked to see the other's quiet eyes flash with an
+unexpected fire. Perhaps his genius might indeed reclaim this desolate
+region. Inward from the beach lay the waste of sand-hills known as
+Golden Gate Park. There was talk among the real estate visionaries of
+making it a pleasure ground.
+
+So regularly did they end their outings with a dinner at the Seal Rock
+House that Alice always knew where to find her husband in case some
+clamorous client sought Benito's aid. And tonight as an attendant called
+his name he answered with no other thought than that he would be asked
+to make a will or soothe some jealous and importunate wife who wanted a
+divorce without delay. They usually did want them that way. He rose,
+leisurely enough, and made his way to the door. There, instead of the
+usual messenger boy, stood Alice.
+
+"You must come at once," she panted. "Robert has been robbed of an
+important letter to the bank. They talk of arresting him.... Ralston
+wants you at his office."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIII
+
+LEES SOLVES A MYSTERY
+
+In the president's office at the Bank of California, Benito found his
+son, pale but intrepid. He was being questioned by William Sharon and a
+postoffice inspector. Ralston, hands crammed into trousers pockets,
+paced the room disturbedly.
+
+"You admit, then, that the envelope was given you?" Sharon was asking
+truculently as Benito entered.
+
+"Yes," said Robert, "I remember seeing such a letter as I packed my
+mail."
+
+"Humph!" exclaimed Sharon. He seemed about to ask another question, but
+the postal official anticipated him. "Explain what happened after you
+left the mail station."
+
+"Nothing much ... I walked up Washington street as usual. On the edge of
+Chinatown a woman stopped me ... asked me how to get to Market street."
+
+"Is that all?"
+
+"Yes, that's all," said Robert. "She seemed confused by our criss-cross
+streets. I had to tell her several times ... to point the way before she
+understood."
+
+"And nothing else happened?"
+
+"Nothing else--except that Mr. Ralston asked me for the letter. Said he
+was expecting it.... I searched my bag but couldn't find it."
+
+"Tell us more about this woman. Give us a description of her."
+
+"Spanish type," said Robert tersely. "Very pleasant; smiled a lot and
+had gold fillings in her teeth. Must have been quite handsome when she
+was young."
+
+The inspector stroked his chin reflectively. "Didn't set the bag down,
+did you? ... when you pointed out the way, for instance?"
+
+"Let me see.... Why, yes--I did. I hadn't thought of that...."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Captain of Detectives I.W. Lees was making a record for himself among
+the nation's crime-detectors. He was a swarthy little man, implacable as
+an Indian and as pertinacious on a trail. He never forgot a face and no
+amount of disguise could hide its identity from his penetrating glance.
+Without great vision or imagination, he knew criminals as did few other
+men; could reason from cause to effect within certain channels,
+unerringly. He was heartless, ruthless--some said venal. But he caught
+and convicted felons, solved the problems of his office by a dogged
+perseverance that ignored defeat. For, with a mind essentially tricky,
+he anticipated tricksters--unless their operations were beyond
+his scope.
+
+It was 10 o'clock at night, but he was still at work upon a case which,
+up to now, had baffled him--a case of opium smuggling--when Robert and
+Benito entered. At first he listened to them inattentively. But at
+Robert's story of the woman, he became electrified.
+
+"Rose Terranza! Dance hall girl back in the Eldorado days! Queen of the
+Night Life under half a dozen names! Smiling Rose, some called her. Good
+clothes and gold in her teeth! I've her picture--wait a minute." He
+pulled a cord; a bell jangled somewhere. An officer entered.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Chinatown at midnight. Dark and narrow streets; fat, round paper
+lanterns here and there above dim doorways; silent forms,
+soft-shuffling, warily alert.
+
+"Wait one minee," said Po Lun. "I find 'em door."
+
+Following the Chinaman were Captain Lees, with his half a dozen "plain
+clothes men," Benito, Robert and the mail inspector. Presently Po spoke
+again. "Jus' alound co'ne'" (corner), he whispered. "Me go ahead. Plitty
+soon you come. You hea' me makem noise ... allee same cat."
+
+Lees descried him as he paused before a dimly lighted door. Evidently he
+was challenged; gave a countersign. For the door swung back. Po Lun
+passed through. Nothing happened for a time. Then a piercing feline wail
+stabbed through the night.
+
+"M-i-i-a-o-w-r-r-r!"
+
+Lees sprang forward, pressed his weight against the partly-open portal;
+flashed his dark lantern on two figures struggling violently. His hand
+fell on the collar of Po Lun's antagonist; a policeman's "billy" cracked
+upon his skull. "Tie and gag him," said the captain. "Leave a man on
+guard.... The rest of you come on."
+
+Po Lun leading, they went, single file through utter blackness. Now and
+then the white disc of Lees' lantern, now in Po Lun's hand, gleamed like
+a guiding will-o-wisp upon the tortuous path.
+
+Suddenly Benito felt the presence of new personalities. They seemed to
+be in a room with other people. Several dark lamps flashed at Po Lun's
+signal. They revealed a room sumptuously furnished. Teakwood chairs,
+with red embroidered backs and cushions, stood about the walls. Handsome
+gilded grillwork screened a boudoir worthy of a queen. Clad in the
+laciest of robes de chambre, a dark-skinned woman sat on the edge of a
+canopied bed. She was past her first youth, but still of remarkable
+beauty. At the foot of the bed stood McTurpin--pale ghost of his former
+self. He looked like a cornered rat ... and quite as dangerous. Two
+Chinese were crouched against a lacquered screen.
+
+"What do you want?" asked the woman, her voice shrill with anger.
+
+"Take your hand out from under that pillow!" ordered Lees. "No nonsense,
+Smiling Rose."
+
+Reluctantly the ringed and tapered fingers that had clutched apparently
+a hidden weapon came into view. "Light the lamps," said Lees, and one of
+his men performed this office.
+
+"That's the woman, father," spoke young Robert, unexpectedly.
+
+"Put the bracelets on her," ordered Lees, "and search the place." A man
+stepped forward.
+
+But they had not counted on McTurpin. "Let her be," he screamed. A
+pistol flashed. The officer went down at Rose's feet.
+
+Instantly there was confusion. The room was filled with shuffling
+Oriental figures. The lights went out. Powder-flashes leaped like
+fireflies in the darkness. Through it all Lees could be heard profanely
+giving orders.
+
+Then, as swiftly, it was over. Somewhere a door closed. Lees leaped
+forward just in time to hear an iron bar clang into place.
+
+"Gone," he muttered, as his light searched vainly for the woman.
+
+"Who's that on the bed?" asked Benito.
+
+"The cursed opium-wreck, McTurpin," Lees replied impatiently. "I planted
+him when I saw Dick go down." He bent above the wounded officer while
+Benito relighted the lamps and examined curiously the body of his
+ancient enemy. For McTurpin was dead. He had evidently tried to reach
+the woman as he fell. His clawlike fingers clutched, in rigor mortis,
+her abandoned robe. On the floor, where it had fallen from her bosom,
+doubtless in the hasty flight, there lay a crumpled, bloodstained
+envelope. Robert springing forward, seized it with an exclamation. It
+was addressed to William C. Ralston.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIV
+
+AN IDOL TOPPLES
+
+News had come in early spring of Robert Windham senior's death in
+Monterey; less than two months afterward his wife, Anita, lay beside him
+in the Spanish cemetery.
+
+The old Californians were passing; here and there some venerable Hidalgo
+played the host upon broad acres as in ancient days and came to San
+Francisco, booted, spurred, attended by a guard of vaqueros. But a new
+generation gazed at him curiously and, after a lonely interval,
+he departed.
+
+Market street was now a lordly thoroughfare; horse-cars jingled merrily
+along the leading streets. Up Clay street ran that wonder of the age, a
+cable-tram invented by old Hallidie, the engineer. They had made game
+of him for years until he demonstrated his invention for the conquering
+of hills. Now the world was seeking him to solve its transportation
+problems.
+
+Ralston, as usual, was riding on the crest of fortune. His was a
+veritable lust for city building. Each successive day he founded some
+new enterprise.
+
+"Like a master juggler," said Benito to his wife, "he keeps a hundred
+interests in the air. Let's see. There are the Mission Woolen Mills, the
+Kimball Carriage Works, the Cornell Watch Factory--of all things--the
+West Coast Furniture plant, the San Francisco Sugar Refinery, the Grand
+Hotel, a dry dock at Hunter's Point, the California Theater, a
+reclamation scheme at Sherman Island, the San Joaquin Valley irrigating
+system, the Rincon Hill cut, the extension of Montgomery street ..." he
+checked them off on his fingers, pausing finally for lack of breath.
+
+"You've forgotten the Palace Hotel," said Alice smiling.
+
+"No," Benito said, "I hadn't got that far. But the Palace is typical.
+Ralston wants San Francisco to have the best of everything the world can
+give. He's mad about this town. It's wife and child to him. Why it's
+almost his God!"
+
+Alice looked into his eyes. "You're fearful for your prince! You Monte
+Cristo!"
+
+"Yes," he said, "I'm frankly worried. Something's got to drop.... It's
+too--too splendid."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As he went down Market street toward Montgomery, Benito paused to
+observe the new Palace Hotel. Hundreds of bricklayers, carpenters and
+other workmen were raising it with astonishing speed. Hod-carriers raced
+up swaying ladders, steam-winches puffed and snorted; great vats of lime
+and mortar blockaded the street. It was to have a great inner court upon
+which seven galleries would look down. Ralston boasted he would make it
+a hotel for travelers to talk of round the world. And no one in San
+Francisco doubted it.
+
+Benito, eyes upraised to view the labors of a bustling human hive,
+almost collided with two gentlemen, who were strolling westward, arm in
+arm. He apologized. They roared endearing curses at him and insisted
+that he join them in a drink.
+
+They were J.C. Flood and W.S. O'Brien, former saloon proprietors now
+reputed multi-millionaires.
+
+Early in the seventies they had joined forces with Jim Mackey, a
+blaster, at Virginia City and a mining man named J.G. Fair. Between them
+they bought up the supposedly depleted Consolidated Virginia Mine,
+paying from $4 to $9 each for its 10,700 shares. Mining experts smiled
+good naturedly, forgot the matter. Then the world was brought upstanding
+by the news of a bonanza hitherto unrivaled.
+
+Con. Virginia had gained a value of $150,000,000.
+
+After he had sipped the French champagne, on which Flood insisted and
+which Windham disliked, the latter spoke of Ralston and his trouble with
+the editors. "Some of the newspapers would have us think he's playing
+recklessly, with other people's money," he said with irritation.
+
+'"Well, well, and maybe he is, me b'y," returned O'Brien. "Don't blame
+the newspaper fellahs.... They've raison to be suspicious, Hiven
+knows.... Ralston's a prince. We all love the man. It's not that.
+But--," he came closer, caught both of Benito's coat lapels in a
+confidential grasp, "I'm tellin' ye this, me lad: If it should come to a
+show-down ... if certain enemies should have a chance to call Bill
+Ralston's hand, I tell ye, it would mean dee-saster!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At 9 o'clock on the morning of August 25, Francisco Stanley entered the
+private door of Windham's office. He was now an under-editor on The
+Chronicle, which had developed from the old Dramatic Chronicle, into a
+daily newspaper. Benito glanced up from his desk a bit impatiently; it
+was a busy day.
+
+"What's the matter, Francisco? You're excited."
+
+"I've a right to be," the journalist spoke sharply. He glanced at his
+uncle's secretary. "I must see you alone."
+
+"Can't you come in later? I've a lot of clients waiting."
+
+"For God's sake, Uncle Ben," the younger man said desperately, "send
+them off."
+
+Benito gazed at him, astonished. Then convinced by something in
+Francisco's eyes, he nodded to the secretary who departed.
+
+"It's Ralston ... word has reached the newspapers ... his bank has
+failed."
+
+Benito sprang to his feet. "You're crazy! It's--impossible!"
+
+"Uncle Ben, IT'S TRUE!" His fingers closed almost spasmodically upon the
+other's arm.
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"RALSTON SAYS SO. I've just come from there.... He wants you."
+
+Benito reached dazedly for his hat.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Benito found "Bill" Ralston in his private office, head bowed; eyes
+dully hopeless. He looked ten years older.
+
+"The Bank of California has failed," he said before the younger man
+could ask a question. "It will never reopen its doors."
+
+"I--I simply can't believe it!" After a stunned silence Benito spoke. He
+laid a hand on the banker's shoulder. "All I have is at your
+service, Ralston."
+
+"Thank you ... but it isn't any use." He looked up misty-eyed. "I tried
+to make this town the greatest in the world.... I went too far.... I
+played too big a stake. Now--" he tried to smile. "Now comes the
+reckoning."
+
+"But, God Almighty! Ralston," cried Benito, "your assets must be
+enormous.... It's only a matter of time. You'll pull through."
+
+"They won't give me time," he spoke no names, yet Windham knew he meant
+those who had turned from friends to enemies.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Two days later Francisco met Ralston coming out of the bank. His face
+was haggard. His eyes had the look of one who has been struck an
+unexpected blow.
+
+"Will the directors' meeting take place today, Mr. Ralston?"
+
+"It's in session now," he answered dully.
+
+"Ah, I thought, perhaps--since you are leaving--it had been postponed."
+
+Spots of red flamed in the banker's cheeks. "They've barred me from the
+meeting," he replied and hurried on.
+
+Several hours later newsboys ran through San Francisco's streets:
+"EXTRA! EXTRA!" they screamed, "ALL ABOUT RALSTON'S SUICIDE."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXV
+
+INDUSTRIAL UNREST
+
+About the Bank of California was a surging press of men and women. The
+doors of that great financial institution were closed, blinds drawn, as
+on the previous day. Now and then an officer or director passed the
+guarded portals. D.O. Mills was one of these, his stern, ascetic face
+more severe than usual.
+
+Francisco Stanley pushed his way up to the carriage as it started.
+
+"Will the bank reopen, Mr. Mills?" he asked, walking along beside the
+moving vehicle.
+
+The financier's eyes glared from the inner shadows. "Yes, yes.
+Certainly," he snapped. "Very shortly ... as soon as we can levy an
+assessment" The coachman whipped up his horses; the carriage rolled off.
+Francisco turned to face his uncle. "What did he say?" asked Benito.
+Others crowded close to hear the young editor's answer. The word found
+it way through the crowd. "The bank will reopen.... They'll levy an
+assessment.... We won't lose a cent."
+
+Gradually the throng disbanded. Everywhere one heard expressions of
+sorrow for Ralston; doubt of the story that he had destroyed his life.
+As a matter of fact a coroner's jury found that death resulted from
+cerebral attack. An insurance company waived its suicide exemption
+clause and paid his widow $50,000.
+
+The Bank of California was reopened. Ralston, buried with the pomp and
+splendor of a sorrowing multitude, was presently forgotten. Few new
+troubles came upon the land. Overspeculation in the Comstock lode
+brought economic unrest.
+
+Thousands were unemployed in San Francisco. Agitators rallied them at
+public meetings into furious and morbid groups. From the Eastern States
+came telegraphic news of strikes and violence. Adrian returned one
+evening, tired and harassed.
+
+"I don't know what's got into the working people," he said to Inez.
+
+"Oh, they'll get over that," pronounced Francisco, with the sweeping
+confidence of youth. "These intervals of discontent are periodical--like
+epidemics of diseases."
+
+Adrian glanced at the treatise on Political Economy in his son's hand.
+"And what would you suggest, my boy?" he asked with a faint smile.
+
+"Leave them alone," said Francisco. "It goes through a regular form.
+They have agitators who talk of Bloodsucking Plutocrats, Rights of the
+People and all that. But it generally ends in mere words."
+
+"The Paris Commune didn't end in mere words," reminded Adrian.
+
+"Oh, that!" Francisco was a trifle nonplussed. "Well, of course--"
+
+"There have been serious riots in Eastern States."
+
+"But--they had leaders. Here we've none."
+
+"I'm not so sure of that," said Adrian thoughtfully. "D'ye know that
+Irish drayman, Dennis Kearney?"
+
+"Y-e-s ... the one who used to be a sailor?"
+
+"That's the man. He's clever; knows men like a book.... Has power and a
+knack for words. He calls our Legislature 'The Honorable Bilks.' Wants
+to start a Workingmen's Party. And he'll do it, too, or I'm mistaken.
+His motto is 'The Chinese Must Go!'"
+
+"By Harry! There's a story for the paper," said Francisco. "I must see
+the fellow."
+
+Robert Windham and Po Lun were out for a morning promenade. They often
+walked together of a Sunday. Robert, though he was now twenty-six, still
+retained his childhood friendship for the Chinese servitor; found him an
+agreeable, often-times a sage companion. Urged by Alice, whose ambitious
+love included all within her ken, Po Lun attended night school; he could
+read and write English passably, though the letter "r" still foiled his
+Oriental tongue. Today they were out to have a look at the new
+city hall.
+
+On a sand lot opposite several hundred men had gathered, pressing round
+a figure mounted on a barrel. The orator gesticulated violently. Now and
+then there were cheers. A brandishing of fists and canes. Po Lun halted
+in sudden alarm. "Plitty soon they get excited. They don't like Chinese.
+I think maybe best we go back."
+
+But already Po's "pig-tail" had attracted attention. The speaker pointed
+to him.
+
+"There's one of them Heathen Chinese," he cried shrilly. "The dirty
+yaller boys what's takin' bread out of our mouths. Down with them, I
+say. Make this a white man's country."
+
+An ominous growl came from the crowd. Several rough-looking fellows
+started toward Robert and Po Lun. The latter was for taking to his
+heels, but Robert stood his ground.
+
+"What do you fellows want?"
+
+They paused, abashed by his intrepid manner. "No offense, young man. We
+ain't after you. It's that Yaller Heathen.... The kind that robs us of a
+chance to live."
+
+"Po Lun has never robbed anyone of a chance to live. He's our cook ...
+and my friend. You leave him alone."
+
+"He sends all his money back to China," sneered another coming closer,
+brandishing a stick. "A fine American, ain't he?"
+
+"A better one than you," said Robert hotly. Anger got the better of his
+judgment and he snatched the stick out of the fellow's hand, broke it,
+threw it to the ground.
+
+Savagely they fell upon him. He went down, stunned by a blow on the
+head, a sense of crushing weight that overwhelmed his strength. He was
+vaguely conscious of a tirade of strange words, of an arm at the end of
+which was a meat cleaver, lashing about. The vindictive bark of a
+pistol. Shouts, feet running. A blue-coated form. A vehicle with
+champing horses that stood by.
+
+"Are you hurt very bad, young feller?"
+
+Robert moved his arms and legs. They appeared intact. He rose, stiffly.
+"Where's Po Lun?"
+
+"In the wagon."
+
+Robert, turning, observed an ambulance. "Not--dead?"
+
+"Well, pretty near it," said the policeman. "He saved your life though,
+the yellow devil. Laid out half a dozen of them hoodlums with a hatchet.
+He's shot through the lungs. But Doc. says he's got a chance."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Late that afternoon William T. Coleman sat closeted with Chief Ellis of
+the San Francisco police. Coleman bore but scant resemblance to the
+youth of 1856. He was heavier, almost bald, moustached, more settled,
+less alert in manner. Yet his eyes had in them still the old invincible
+gleam of leadership.
+
+"But," he was saying to the man in uniform, "that was twenty years ago.
+Can't you find a younger chap to head your Citizens' Committee?"
+
+"No," said Ellis shortly. "You're the one we need. You know the way to
+deal with outlaws ... how to make the citizens respond. Do you know that
+the gang wrecked several Chinese laundries after the attack on Windham?
+That they threaten to burn the Pacific Mail docks?"
+
+Chief Ellis drew a little nearer. "General McComb of the State forces
+has called a mass meeting. He wishes you to take charge...."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVI
+
+THE PICK-HANDLE BRIGADE
+
+Benito found his son awaiting when he returned from the Citizens' Mass
+Meeting at midnight. Robert, insisting that he was "fit as a fiddle,"
+had nevertheless been put to bed through the connivance of an anxious
+mother and the family physician, who found him to have suffered some
+severe contusions and lacerations in the morning's fray. But he was wide
+awake and curious when his father's latch key grated in the door.
+
+"It must have seemed like old times, didn't it, dad?" he asked with
+enthusiasm. The Vigilance Committee of the Fifties in his young mind was
+a knightly company. As a boy he used to listen, eager and excited, to
+his father's tales of Coleman. Now his hero was again to take the stage.
+
+"Yes, it took me back," said Windham. "I was about your age then and
+Coleman was just in his thirties." He sat down a trifle wearily. "The
+years aren't kind. Some of the fellows who were young in '56 seemed old
+tonight.... But they have the same spirit."
+
+"Tell me what happened," said Robert, after a pause.
+
+Benito's eyes flashed. "You should have heard them cheer when Coleman
+rose. He called for his old comrades and we stood up. Then there was
+more cheering. Coleman is all business. He commenced at once enrolling
+men for his pick-handle brigade; he's refused fire-arms. He has fifteen
+hundred already, divided into companies of a hundred each--with their
+own officers."
+
+"And are you an officer, dad?" asked Robert.
+
+"Yes," Benito smiled. "But my company is one man short. We've only
+ninety-nine."
+
+"How's that?" Robert's tone was puzzled.
+
+Windham rose. "I'm saving it," he answered, "for a wounded hero, who, I
+rather hope, will volunteer."
+
+"FATHER!" cried the young man rapturously.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At the Mount Zion Hospital Po Lun fought with death on Tuesday. The
+bullet was removed; but though this brought relief, there came an
+aftermath of fever and destroying weakness. Alice and her son were at
+his bedside, but Po Lun did not recognize them.
+
+Mrs. Windham turned a tear-stained face to the physician. "Can nothing
+be done?" she pleaded. "He saved my boy.... Oh, doctor! You won't
+let him die."
+
+The young physician's sympathy showed plainly in his eyes. "I've done
+everything," he said. "He's sinking. If I knew a way to rouse him there
+might be a chance."
+
+As he spoke Francisco Stanley entered, viewed the silent figure on the
+cot and shook his head. "Poor Po Lun. At any rate he's been a hero in
+the papers. I've seen to that ..."
+
+"He was delirious all morning ... stretching out his arms and calling
+'Hang Far! Hang Far!' Do you know what it means?"
+
+"I do," Alice answered; "it's the girl from whom he was separated nearly
+twenty years ago."
+
+"Why--that's funny," said Francisco. "Yesterday a woman by that name was
+captured by the mission-workers in a raid on Chinatown. I wonder....
+Could it be the same one?"
+
+"Not likely," the physician answered. "It's a common name, I think.
+Still--" he looked at Po Lun.
+
+"Run and get her," Alice urged. "It's a chance. Go quickly."
+
+Half an hour passed; an hour, while the watchers waited at the bedside
+of Po Lun. Gradually his respiration waned. Several times the nurse
+called the physician, thinking death had come. But a spark still
+lingered, growing fainter with the minutes till a mist upon a mirror was
+the only sign that breath remained.
+
+Suddenly there was a rush of feet, a door flung open and Francisco
+entered, half dragging a Chinese woman by the arm. She gazed with
+frantic eyes from Alice to Robert till her glance took in the figure on
+the bed. She stared at it curiously, incredulously. Then she gave a
+little cry and flung herself toward Po Lun.
+
+What she said no one there present knew. What strange cabal she invoked
+is still a mystery. Be that as it may, eyes which had seemed closed
+forever, opened. Lips white, bloodless, breathed a scarce-heard whisper.
+
+"_Hang Far_!"
+
+"Come," said Alice. "Let us leave them together."
+
+Half an later, in an ante-room, the doctor told them: "He will live, I
+think. It's very like a miracle...."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At the foot of Brannan street lay the Pacific Mail docks, where the
+Chinese laborers were landed. Many thousands of them had been brought
+there by the steamers from Canton. They had solved vexed problems as
+house servants, fruit pickers, tillers of the soil; they had done the
+rough work in the building of many bridges, the stemming of turbulent
+streams, the construction of highways. And while there was work for all,
+they had caused little trouble.
+
+Now half a thousand jobless workers, armed and reckless, marched toward
+the docks. They bore torches, which illuminated fitfully their flushed,
+impassioned faces. Here and there one carried a transparency described,
+"The Chinese Must Go."
+
+[Illustration: Half a thousand jobless workers, armed and reckless,
+marched toward the docks. They bore torches.... "A hell-bent crew'"
+said Ellis.]
+
+Chief Ellis and a squad of mounted policemen watched them as they
+marched down Second street, shouting threats and waving their
+firebrands. "They're a hell-bent crew," he said to William Coleman. "Is
+your posse ready?"
+
+"Yes," he answered, "they've assembled near the dock. I've twenty
+companies."
+
+"Good.... You'll need 'em all."
+
+As he spoke a tongue of flame leaped upward from the darkness. Another
+and another.
+
+"They've fired the lumber yards," the chief said. "I expected that.
+There is fire apparatus on the spot.... It's time to move."
+
+He spurred forward, rounding up his officers. Coleman rode silently
+toward the entrance of the docks. Very soon a bugle sounded. There were
+staccato orders; then a tramp of feet.
+
+The Citizens' army moved in perfect unison toward the fires. Already
+engines were at work. One blaze was extinguished. Then came sounds of
+battle. Cries, shots. Coleman and his men rushed forward.
+
+Stones and sticks flew through the air. Now and then a pistol barked.
+The mounted police descended with a clatter, clubbing their way into the
+throng. But they did not penetrate far, so dense was the pack; it hemmed
+them about, pulling officers from their horses. The fire engines had
+been stopped. One of them was pushed into the bay.
+
+More fires leaped from incendiary torches. The rioters seemed
+triumphant. Then Coleman's brigade fell upon them.
+
+Whack, whack, whack, fell the pick-handles upon the backs, shoulders,
+sometimes heads of rioters. It was like a systematic tattoo. Coleman's
+voice was heard directing, here and there, cool and dispassionate. A
+couple of locomotive headlights threw their glare upon the now
+disordered gangsters. Whack! Whack! Whack!
+
+Suddenly the rioters, bleating, panic-stricken, fled like frightened
+sheep. They scattered in every direction leader*-less, completely
+routed. The fire engines resumed work. An ambulance came up and the work
+of attending the wounded began. The fight was over.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVII
+
+DENNIS KEARNEY
+
+Weeks went by and brought no further outbreak. Chinatown which, for a
+time, was shuttered, fortified, almost deserted, once again resumed its
+feverish activities. In the theaters, funny men made jokes about the
+labor trouble. In the East strikes had abated. All seemed safe and
+orderly again.
+
+But San Francisco had yet to deal with Dennis Kearney.
+
+Dennis, born in County Cork just thirty years before, filled adventurous
+roles since his eleventh year, mostly on the so-called "hell-ships"
+which beat up and down the mains of trade. In 1868 he first set foot in
+San Francisco as an officer of the clipper "Shooting Star." Tiring of
+the sea he put his earnings in a draying enterprise. This, for half a
+dozen years, had prospered.
+
+Suddenly he cast his business interests to the winds. Became a labor
+agitator.
+
+Francisco Stanley, who had sought him, questing for an interview since
+morning, cornered him at last in Bob Woodward's What Cheer House at
+Sacramento and Leidesdorff streets. It was one of those odd institutions
+found only in this vividly bizarre metropolis of the West. For "two
+bits" you could get a bed and breakfast at the What Cheer House, both
+clean and wholesome enough for the proudest. If you had not the coin, it
+made little difference. One room was fitted out as a museum and
+contained the many curious articles which had found their way into
+Woodward's hands. Another room was the hotel library; the first free
+reading room in San Francisco.
+
+At the What Cheer House all kinds of people gathered. Stanley, as he
+peeped into the library, noted a judge of the Superior Court poring over
+a volume of Dickens. He waved a salute to tousle-haired, eagle-beaked
+Sam Clemens, whose Mark Twain articles were beginning to attract
+attention from the Eastern publishers. Near him, quietly sedate,
+absorbed in Macaulay, was Bret Harte. He had been a Wells-Fargo
+messenger, miner, clerk and steam-boat hand, so rumor said, and now he
+was writing stories of the West. Stanley would have liked to stop and
+chat ... but Kearney must be found and interviewed before The Chronicle
+went to press.
+
+Presently a loud, insistent voice attracted his attention. It was
+penetrating, violent, denunciatory. Francisco knew that voice. He went
+into an outer room where perhaps a dozen rough-clad men were gathered
+about a figure of medium height, compactly built, with a broad head,
+shifting blue eyes and a dynamic, nervous manner.
+
+"Don't forget," he pounded fist on palm for emphasis, "on August 18 we
+organize the party. Johnny Day will be the prisident. We'll make thim
+bloody plutocrats take notice." He paused, catching sight of Stanley.
+Instantly his frowning face became all smiles. "Ah, here's me young
+friend, the reporter," he said. "Come along Misther Stanley, and I'll
+give yez a yarn for the paper. Lave me tell ye of the Workingmen's Trade
+and Labor Union."
+
+He kept Francisco's pencil busy.
+
+"There ain't no strings on us. We're free from all political
+connections. We're for oursilves. Get that."
+
+"Our password's 'The Chinese Must Go.'"
+
+"How do you propose to accomplish this?" asked Stanley.
+
+"Aisy enough," returned the other with supreme confidence. "We'll have
+the treaty wid Chiny changed. We'll sind back all the yellow divils if
+they interfere wid us Americans."
+
+Stanley could not repress a smile. Kearney himself had been naturalized
+only a year before.
+
+For an hour he unfolded principles, threatened men of wealth, pounded
+Stanley's knee until it was sore and finally stalked off, highly pleased
+with himself.
+
+"He's amusing enough," said Francisco to his father that evening. "But
+we mustn't underrate him as you said. The fellow has force. He knows the
+way to stir up human passion and he'll use his knowledge to the full.
+Also he knows equity and law. Some of his ideas are altruistic."
+
+"What is he going to do to the Central Pacific nabobs if they don't
+discharge their Chinese laborers?" asked Adrian.
+
+Young Stanley laughed. "He threatens to dynamite their castles on the
+hill."
+
+His father did not answer immediately. "It may not be as funny as you
+think," he commented.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+With the weeks Po Lun mended rapidly. Hang Far was at his bedside many
+hours each day. Alice often found them chatting animatedly.
+
+"When I get plenty well, we mally," Po informed her. "Maybeso go back to
+China. What you say, Missee Alice?"
+
+"I think you'd better stay with me," she countered. "As for Hang Far,
+we'll find room for her." She smiled dolefully. "I'm getting to be an
+old lady, Po Lun ... I need more help in the house."
+
+"You nebbeh get old, Missee Alice," said the sick man. "Twenty yea' I
+know you--always like li'l gi'l."
+
+"Nonsense, Po!" cried Alice. Nevertheless she was pleased. "Will you and
+Hang Far stay with me?"
+
+"I t'ink so, Missee," Po replied. "By 'n' by we take one li'l tlip fo'
+honeymoon. But plitty soon come back."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The labor movement grew and Dennis with it--both in self-importance and
+in popularity. He went about the State making speeches, threatening the
+"shoddy aristocrats who want an emperor and a standing army to shoot
+down the people."
+
+Every Sunday he harangued a crowd of his adherents on a sand-lot near
+the city hall and owing to this fact his followers were dubbed "The
+Sand-Lot Party." One day Robert, after hearing them discourse, returned
+home shaken and angry.
+
+"The man's a maniac," he told his father; "he talked of nothing but
+lynching railroad magnates and destroying their property. He wants to
+blow up the Pacific Mail docks and burn the steamers ... to drop
+dynamite from balloons on Chinatown."
+
+Young Stanley joined them, smiling, and dropped into a chair. "Whew!" he
+exclaimed, "it's been a busy day down at the office. Have you heard that
+Dennis Kearney's been arrested?"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVIII
+
+THE WOMAN REPORTER
+
+Francisco stayed for tea and chatted of events. Yes, Dennis Kearney was
+in jail and making a great hullabaloo about it. He and five of his
+lieutenants had been arrested after an enthusiastic meeting on the
+Barbary Coast.
+
+"And what's the Workingmen's Trade and Labor Union doing?" Robert asked.
+
+"Oh, muttering and threatening as usual," Francisco laughed. "They'll
+not do anything--with the memory of Coleman's 1500 pick-handles fresh in
+their minds...."
+
+"Well, I'm glad those murderous ruffians are behind the bars," said
+Alice. But Francisco took her up. "That's rather hard on them, Aunt
+Alice," he retorted. "They're only a social reaction of the times ...
+when railroad millionaires have our Legislature by the throat and land
+barons refuse to divide their great holdings and give the small farmer a
+chance.... Kearney, aside from his rant of violence, which he doesn't
+mean, is advocating much-needed reforms.... I was talking with Henry
+George today...."
+
+"He's the new city gas and water inspector, isn't he?" asked Benito.
+"They tell me he's writing a book."
+
+"Yes, 'Progress and Poverty.' George believes the single tax will cure
+all social wrongs. But Jean...." He hesitated, flushing.
+
+"Jean?" His aunt was quick to sense a mystery. "Who is Jean?"
+
+"Oh, she's the new woman reporter," said Francisco hastily. He rose,
+"Well, I'll be going now."
+
+His aunt looked after him in silent speculation. "So!" she spoke half
+to herself. "Jean's the woman reporter." And for some occult reason
+she smiled.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Robert saw them together some days later, talking very earnestly as they
+walked through "Pauper Alley." Such was the title bestowed upon
+Leidesdorff street between California and Pine streets, where the
+"mudhens"--those bedraggled, wretched women speculators who still waited
+hungrily for scanty crumbs from Fortune's table--chatted with
+broken-down and shabby men in endless reminiscent gabble of great
+fortunes they had "almost won."
+
+"Miss Norwall's going to do some 'human interest sketches,' as they call
+'em," Francisco explained as he introduced his cousin. "Our editor
+believes in a 'literary touch' for the paper. Something rather new."
+
+Jean Norwall held out her hand. She was an attractive, bright-eyed girl
+in her early twenties, with a searching, friendly look, as though life
+were full of surprises which she was eager to probe. "So you are
+Robert," she remarked. "Francisco's talked a lot about you."
+
+"That was good of him," the young man answered. "He's talked a deal of
+you as well, Miss Norwall."
+
+"Oh, indeed!"' She reddened slightly. "Well, we must be getting on."
+
+Robert raised his hat and watched them disappear around the corner.
+There was a vaguely lonesome feeling somewhere in the region of his
+heart. He went on past the entrance of the San Francisco Stock Exchange
+and almost collided with a bent-over, shrewd-faced man, whose eagle-beak
+and penetrating eyes were a familiar sight along California street.
+
+He was E.J. (better known as "Lucky") Baldwin, who had started the
+Pacific Stock Exchange.
+
+Baldwin had a great ranch in the South, where he bred blooded horses.
+He owned the Baldwin theater and the Baldwin Hotel, which rivaled the
+Palace. Women, racing and stocks were his hobbies. Benito had done some
+legal work for Baldwin and Robert knew him casually. Rather to his
+surprise Baldwin stopped, laid a hand on the young man's shoulder.
+
+"Hello, lad," he greeted; "want a tip on the stock market?"
+
+Tips from "Lucky" were worth their weight in gold. Robert was
+astonished. "Why--yes, thank you, sir," he stammered.
+
+"Well, don't play it ... that's the best tip in the world." The operator
+walked off chuckling.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Robert continued his walk along Montgomery street to Market, where he
+turned westward. It was Saturday and his father's office, where he was
+now studying law, had been closed since noon. It had become a
+custom--almost an unwritten law--to promenade San Francisco's lordly
+thoroughfare on the last afternoon of the week, especially the northern
+side. For Market street was now a social barrier. South of it were
+smaller, meaner shops, saloons, beer-swilling "cafe chantants,"
+workmen's eating houses and the like, with, of course, the notable
+exceptions of the Grand and Palace Hotels.
+
+On the northern side were the gay haberdasheries, millinery stores,
+cafes and various business marts, where fashionable San Francisco
+shopped. Where men with top hats, walking sticks and lavender silk
+waistcoats ogled the feminine fashion parade.
+
+As he passed the Baldwin Hotel with its broadside of bow-windows, Robert
+became aware of some disturbance. A large dray drawn by four horses,
+plumed and flower garlanded, was wending a triumphal course up Market
+street. A man stood in the center of it waving his hat--a stocky fellow
+in soiled trousers and an old gray sweater. Shouts of welcome hailed him
+as the dray rolled on; most of them came from the opposite or
+southern side.
+
+"It's Dennis Kearney," said a man near Robert. "He and his gang were
+released from custody today.... Now we'll have more trouble."
+
+Robert followed the dray expectantly. But Kearney made no overt
+demonstration. He seemed much subdued by his fortnight in jail.
+
+The swift California dusk was falling. The afternoon was gone. And
+Robert, realizing that it was past the dinner hour at his home, decided
+to find his evening meal at a restaurant. One of these, with a display
+of shell-fish grouped about a miniature fountain in its window,
+confronted him ere long and he entered a rococo interior of mirrored
+walls. What caught his fancy more than the ornate furnishings, however,
+was a very pretty girl sitting within a cashier's cage of iron
+grill-work.
+
+It happened that she was smiling as he glanced her way. She had golden
+hair with a hint of red in it, a dainty oval face, like his mother's;
+eyes that were friendly and eager with youth. Robert smiled back at her
+involuntarily.
+
+The smile still lingered as a man came forward to adjust his score. A
+keen, dynamic-looking man of middle years and an imposing presence.
+Robert watched him just a little envious of his assured manner as he
+threw down a gold-piece. While the fair cashier was making change he
+grinned at her. "How's my little girl tonight?" Reaching through the
+aperture, he chucked her suddenly beneath the chin. Tears of
+mortification sprang into her eyes. Impulsively Robert stepped forward,
+crowding the other aside none too gently.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he was breathless, half astounded by his own
+temerity. "But--can I be of any--ah--service?"
+
+"Puppy!" stormed the elder man and stalked out haughtily. The girl's
+eyes encountered Robert's, shining, grateful for an instant. Then they
+fell. Her face grew grave. "You shouldn't have ... really.... That was
+Isaac J. Kalloch."
+
+"Oh, the preacher that's running for Mayor," Robert's tone was abashed.
+"But I don't care," he added, "I'm glad I did."
+
+Once again the girl's eyes met his, shyly. "So am I," she whispered.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIX
+
+A NEW GENERATION
+
+Isaac S. Kalloch was the labor candidate for mayor. People said he was
+the greatest pulpit orator in San Francisco since Starr King. His Sunday
+sermons at the Metropolitan Temple were crowded; as a campaign orator he
+drew great throngs.
+
+Robert's dislike for the man was mitigated by a queer involuntary
+gratitude. Without that bit of paternal familiarity, which had goaded
+the young lawyer to impulsive protective championship, he and Maizie
+Carter, the little golden-haired cashier, might have found the road to
+comradeship much longer.
+
+For comrades they had become almost at once. At least so they fondly
+fancied. Robert's mother wondered why he missed so many meals from home.
+The rococo restaurant gained a steady customer. And the host of
+cavaliers who lingered in the hope of seeing Maizie home each evening
+diminished to one. He was often invited into the vine-clad cottage at
+the top of Powell street hill. Sometimes he sat with Maizie on a
+haircloth sofa and looked at Mrs. Carter's autograph album. It contained
+some great names that were now no longer written. James Lick, David
+Broderick, Colonel E.D. Baker and the still lamented Ralston, of whom
+Maizie's mother never tired of talking. He, it seems, was wont to give
+her tips on mining stocks. Acting on them, she had once amassed $10,000.
+
+"But I lost it all after the poor, dear man passed away," she would say,
+with a tear in her eye. "Once that fellow Mills--I hate his fishy
+eyes!--looked straight at me and said, 'See the poor old mud-hen'!"
+
+She began to weep softly. Maizie sprang to comfort her, stroking the
+stringy gray hair with tender, youthful fingers. "Mother quit the market
+after that. She hasn't been near Pauper Alley for a year ... not since
+I've been working at the Mineral Cafe. And we've three hundred dollars
+in the bank."
+
+"Ah, yes," said the mother, fondly. "Maizie's a brave girl and a thrifty
+one. We're comfortable--and independent, even though the rich grind down
+the poor." Her eyes lighted. "Wait till Kalloch is elected ... then
+we'll see better times, I'll warrant."
+
+Robert was too courteous to express his doubts.
+
+Later he discussed the situation with Francisco. His paper had printed
+an "expose" of Kalloch, who struck back with bitter personal
+denunciation of his editorial foes. "It's a nasty mess," Francisco said
+disgustedly.
+
+"Broderick used to tell my father that politics had always been a
+rascal's paradise because decent men wouldn't run for office--nor vote
+half of the time.... I'm going to write an article about it for The
+Overland. And Pixley of the Argonaut has given me a chance to do some
+stories. I shall be an author pretty soon--like Harte and Clemens."
+
+"Or a poet like this Cincinnatus Heinie Miller, whom one hears about.
+Fancy such a name. I should think he'd change it."
+
+"He has already," laughed Francisco. "Calls himself Joaquin--after
+Marietta, the bandit. Joaquin Miller--rather catchy, isn't it? And he's
+written some really fine lines. Showed me one the other day that's
+called 'Columbus.' It's majestic. I tell you that fellow will be
+famous one day."
+
+"Pooh!" scoffed Robert; "he's a poseur--ought to be an actor, with his
+long hair and boots and sash.... How is the fair Jeanne?"
+
+Francisco's face clouded. "I want her to leave newspaper work and try
+literature," he said, "but Jeanne's afraid to cut loose. She's earning
+her living ... and she's alone in the world. No one to fall back on,
+you know."
+
+"But she'd make more money at real writing, wouldn't she?" asked Robert.
+"Ever since Harte wrote that thing about 'The Luck of Roaring Camp,'
+which the lady proofreader said was indecent, he's had offers from the
+Eastern magazines. John Carmony's paying him $5,000 a year to edit the
+Overland and $100 for each poem or story he writes."
+
+"Ah, yes, but Bret Harte is a genius."
+
+"Maybe Jeanne's another," Robert ventured.
+
+Francisco laughed ruefully. "I've told her that ... but she says no....
+'I'm just a woman,' she insists, 'and not a very bright one at that.'
+She has all kinds of faith in me, but little in herself." He made an
+impatient gesture. "What can a fellow do?"
+
+Robert looked at him a moment thoughtfully. "Why not--marry Jeanne?"
+
+Dull red crept into Francisco's cheeks. Then he laughed.
+"Well--er--probably she wouldn't have me."
+
+"There's only one way to find out," his cousin persisted. "She's alone
+... and you're soon going to be. When do your folks start on their
+'second honeymoon,' as they call it?"
+
+"Oh, that trip around the world--why, in a month or two. As soon as
+father closes out his business."
+
+"You could have the house then--you and Jeanne."
+
+"Say!" exclaimed Francisco suddenly, "you're such a Jim Dandy to manage
+love affairs! Why don't you get married yourself?"
+
+It was Robert's turn to flush. "I'm quite willing," he said shortly.
+
+"Won't she have you?" asked his cousin sympathetically.
+
+"'Tisn't that ... it's her mother. Maizie won't leave her ... and she
+won't bring her into our home. Mrs. Carter's peculiar ... and Maizie
+says we're young. Young enough to be unselfish."
+
+"She's a fine girl," returned Francisco. "Well, good bye." He held out a
+cordial hand.
+
+"I--I'll think over what you said."
+
+"Good luck, then," Robert answered as they gripped.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Adrian Stanley was closing up his affairs. As a contractor he had
+prospered; his reclaimed city lots had realized their purchase price a
+hundred fold and his judiciously conservative investments yielded golden
+fruit. Adrian was not a plunger. But in thirty years he had accumulated
+something of a fortune.... And now they were to travel, he and Inez, for
+a year or so.
+
+He had provided, too, for Francisco. The latter, though he did not know
+it, would have $20,000 to his credit in the Bank of California. Adrian
+planned to hand his son the bank deposit book across the gang plank as
+the ship cast off. They were going first to the Sandwich Islands. Then
+on to China, India, the South Seas. Each evening, sometimes until
+midnight, they perused the illustrated travel-folders, describing
+routes, hotels, trains, steamships.
+
+"You're like a couple of children," smiled Francisco on the evening
+before their departure. He was writing a novel, in addition to the other
+work for Carmony and Pixley. Sometimes it was hard work amid this
+unusual prattle by his usually sedate and silent parents. He tried to
+imagine the house without them; his life, without their familiar and
+cherished companionship.... It would be lonely. Probably he would rent
+the place, when his novel was finished ... take lodgings down town.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXX
+
+ROBERT AND MAIZIE
+
+Francisco saw his parents to the steamer in a carriage packed with
+luggage--shiny new bags and grips which, he reflected, would one day
+return much buffeted and covered with foreign labels. He had seen such
+bags in local households. The owners were very proud of them. Shakenly
+he patted his mother's arm and told her how young she was looking,
+whereat, for some reason, she cried. Adrian coughed and turned to look
+out of the window. None of the trio spoke till they reached the dock.
+
+There Mrs. Stanley gave him many directions looking to his health and
+safety. And his father puffed ferociously at a cigar. They had expected
+Jeanne to bid them good-bye, but she no doubt was delayed, as one so
+often was in newspaper work.
+
+At last it was over. Francisco stood with the bank book in his hand, a
+lump in his throat, waving a handkerchief. The ship was departing
+rapidly. He could no longer distinguish his parents among the black
+specks at the stern of the vessel. Finally he turned, swallowing hard
+and put the bank book in his pocket. What a thoughtful chap his father
+was! How generous! And how almost girlish his mother had looked in her
+new, smart travel suit! Well, they would enjoy themselves for a year or
+two. Some day he would travel, too, and see the world. But first there
+was work to do. Work was good. And Life was filled with Opportunity. He
+thought of Jeanne.
+
+Suddenly he determined to test Robert's advice. Now, if ever, was the
+time to challenge Providence. He had in his pocket Adrian's check for
+$20,000. The Stanley home was vacant. But more than all else, Jeanne was
+being courted by a new reporter on the Chronicle--a sort of poet with
+the dashing ways that women liked. He had taken Jeanne to dinner several
+times of late.
+
+With a decisive movement Francisco entered a telephone booth. Five
+minutes later he emerged smiling. Jeanne had broken an engagement with
+the poet chap to dine with him.
+
+Later that evening he tipped an astonished French waiter with a
+gold-piece. He and Jeanne walked under a full moon until midnight.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Two months after the Stanleys' departure Francisco and Jeanne were
+married and took up their abode in the Stanley home. Francisco worked
+diligently at his novel. Now and then they had Robert and Maizie to
+dinner. Both Jeanne and Francisco had a warm place in their hearts for
+little Maizie Carter. It was perfectly plain that she loved Robert;
+sometimes her eyes were plainly envious when they fell on Jeanne in her
+gingham apron, presiding over the details of her household with, a
+bride's new joy in domestic tasks. But Maizie was a knowing little
+woman, too wise to imperil her dream of Love's completeness with a
+disturbing element like her mother, growing daily more helpless,
+querulous, dependent.
+
+And she had a fine pride, this little working girl. From Robert she
+would accept no aid, despite his growing income as the junior partner in
+his father's law firm. Benito's health had not of recent months been
+robust, and Robert found upon his shoulders more and more of the
+business of the office, which acted as trustee for several large
+estates. Robert now had his private carriage, but Maizie would not
+permit his calling thus, in state, for her at the Mineral Cafe.
+
+"It would not look well," she said, half whimsically, yet with a touch
+of gravity, "to have a famous lawyer in his splendid coach call for a
+poor little Cinderella of a cashier." And so Robert came afoot each
+night to take her home. When it was fine they walked up the steep Powell
+street hill, gazing back at the scintillant lights of the town or down
+on the moonlit bay, with its black silhouetted islands, the spars of
+great ships and the moving lights of tugboats or ferries.
+
+If it were wet they rode up on the funny little cable cars, finding a
+place, whenever possible, on the forward end, which Maizie called the
+"observation platform." As they passed the Nob Hill mansions of Hopkins,
+Stanford and Crocker, and the more modest adobe of the Fairs, Maizie
+sometimes fancied herself the chatelaine of such a castle, giving an
+almost imperceptible sigh as the car dipped over the crest of Powell
+street toward the meaner levels just below where she and her mother
+lived. Their little yard was always bright with flowers, and from the
+rear window one had a marvelous view of the water. She seldom failed to
+walk into the back room and feast her eyes on that marine panorama
+before she returned to listen to her mother's fretful maunderings over
+vanished fortunes.
+
+Tonight as they sat with Jeanne and Francisco in front of the crackling
+fire, Maizie's hunger for a home of her own and the man she loved was so
+plain that Jeanne arose impulsively and put an arm about her guest. She
+said nothing, but Maizie understood. There was a lump in her throat. "I
+should not think such things," she told herself. "I am selfish ...
+unfilial."
+
+Robert was talking. She smiled at him bravely and listened. "Mother's
+planning to go East," she heard him say. "She's always wanted to, and as
+she grows older it's almost an obsession. So father's finally decided to
+go, too, and let me run the business ... I'll be an orphan soon, like
+you, Francisco."
+
+"Oh," said Maizie. "Do you mean that you'll be all alone?"
+
+Robert smiled, "Quite.... Po Lun and Hang Far plan a trip to China ...
+want to see their parents before they die. The Chinese are great for
+honoring their forebears.... Sometimes I think," he added, whimsically,
+"that Maizie is partly Chinese."
+
+The girl flushed. Jeanne made haste to change the subject. "How is your
+friend, Dennis Kearney?" she asked Francisco.
+
+"Oh, he's left the agitator business ... he's a grain broker now. But
+Dennis started something. Capital is a little more willing to listen to
+labor. And Chinese immigration will be restricted, perhaps stopped
+altogether. The Geary Exclusion Act is before Congress now, and more or
+less certain to pass."
+
+"He's a strange fellow," said Jeanne, reminiscently. "I wonder if he
+still hates everyone who disagrees with him. Loring Pickering was one of
+his pet enemies."
+
+"Oh, Dennis is forgiving, like all Irishmen," said Robert. Impulsively
+he laid a hand on Maizie's.
+
+"Maizie is part Irish, too," he added, meaningly. The girl smiled at him
+star-eyed. For she understood.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXI
+
+THE BLIND BOSS
+
+Francisco met the erstwhile agitator on the street one day. He had made
+his peace with many former foes, including Pickering."
+
+"Politics is a rotten game, me b'y," he said, by way of explanation.
+"And I've a family, two little girruls at home. I want thim to remimber
+their father as something besides a blatherskite phin they grow up. So
+I'm in a rispictible business again.... There's a new boss now, bad cess
+to him! Chris Buckley.
+
+"Him your Chinese friends call 'The Blind White Devil?' Yes, I've heard
+of Chris."
+
+"He keeps a saloon wid a gossoon name o' Fallon, on Bush street.... Go
+up and see him, Misther Stanley.... He's a fair-speakin' felly I'm
+told.... Ask him," Dennis whispered, nudging the writer's ribs with his
+elbow, "ask him how his gambling place in Platt's Hall is coming on?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Several days later Francisco entered the unpretentious establishment of
+Christopher Buckley. He found it more like an office than a drinking
+place; people sat about, apparently waiting their turn for an interview
+with Buckley.
+
+A small man, soft of tread and with a searching glance, asked Stanley's
+business and, learning that the young man was a writer for the press,
+blinked rapidly a few times; then he scuttled off, returning ere long
+with the information that Buckley would "see Mr. Stanley." Soon he found
+himself facing a pleasant-looking man of medium height, a moustache,
+wiry hair tinged with gray, a vailed expression of the eyes, which
+indicated some abnormality of vision, but did not reveal the almost
+total blindness with which early excesses had afflicted
+Christopher Buckley.
+
+"Sit down, my friend," spoke the boss. His tone held a crisp cordiality,
+searching and professionally genial. "What d'ye want ... a story?"
+
+"Yes," said Stanley.
+
+"About the election?"
+
+Stanley hesitated. "Tell me about the gambling concession at Platt's
+Hall," he said suddenly.
+
+Buckley's manner changed. It became, if anything, more cordial.
+
+"My boy," his tone was low, "you're wasting time as a reporter. Listen,"
+he laid a hand upon Francisco's knee. "I've got a job for you.... The
+new Mayor will need a secretary ... three hundred a month. And extras!"
+
+"What are they?" asked Francisco curiously.
+
+"Lord! I don't have to explain that to a bright young man like you....
+People coming to the Mayor for favors. They're appreciative ...
+understand?"
+
+"Well," Francisco seemed to hesitate, "let me think it over.... Can I
+let you know," he smiled, "tomorrow?"
+
+Buckley nodded as Francisco rose. As soon as the latter's back was
+turned the little sharp-eyed man came trotting to his master's call.
+"Follow him. Find out what's his game," he snapped. The little man sped
+swiftly after. Buckley made another signal. The top-hatted
+representative of railway interests approached.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Francisco stopped at Robert's office on his way home. Windham had moved
+into one of the new buildings, with an elevator, on Kearney street. In
+his private office was a telephone, one of those new instruments for
+talking over a wire which still excited curiosity, though they were
+being rapidly installed by the Pacific Bell Company. Hotels,
+newspapers, the police and fire departments were equipped with them,
+but private subscribers were few, Francisco had noticed one of the
+instruments in Buckley's saloon.
+
+Robert had not returned from court, but was momentarily expected. His
+amanuensis ushered Francisco into the private office. He sat down and
+picked up a newspaper, glancing idly over the news.
+
+A bell tinkled somewhere close at hand. It must be the telephone. Rather
+gingerly, for he had never handled one before, Francisco picked up the
+receiver, put it to his ear. It was a man's voice insisting that a
+probate case be settled. Francisco tried to make him understand that
+Robert was out. But the voice went on. Apparently the transmitting
+apparatus was defective. Francisco could not interrupt the flow
+of words.
+
+"See Buckley.... He has all the judges under his thumb. Pay him what he
+asks. We must have a settlement at once."
+
+Francisco put back the receiver. So Buckley controlled the courts as
+well. He would be difficult to expose. The little plan for getting
+evidence with Robert's aid did not appear so simple now.
+
+Francisco waited half an hour longer, fidgeting about the office. Then
+he decided that Robert had gone for the day and went out. At the corner
+of Powell street he bumped rather unceremoniously into a tall figure,
+top-hatted, long-coated, carrying a stick.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he apologized. "Oh--why it's Mr. Pickering."
+
+"Where are you bound so--impetuously?"
+
+"Home," smiled Stanley. "Jeanne and I are going to the show tonight." He
+was about to pass on when a thought struck him. "Got a minute to spare,
+Mr. Pickering?"
+
+"Always to you, my boy," returned the editor of the Bulletin, with his
+old-fashioned courtesy.
+
+[Illustration: "My boy ... you're wasting your time as a reporter.
+Listen," he laid a hand upon Francisco's knee. "I've a job for you....
+The new Mayor will need a secretary."]
+
+"Then, come into the Baldwin Cafe.... I want to tell you something."
+
+In an unoccupied corner, over a couple of glasses, Francisco unfolded
+his plan. He was somewhat abashed by Pickering's expression. "Very
+clever, Stanley ... but quite useless. It's been tried before. You'd
+better have taken the job, accumulated evidence; then turned it over to
+us. That would be the way to trap him ... but it's probably too late.
+Ten to one his sleuth has seen us together. Buckley's very--bright,
+you know."
+
+He put a hand kindly on the crestfallen young man's shoulder.... "Go
+back tomorrow and see if he'll make you secretary to the Mayor. Then get
+all the 'extras' you can. Label each and bring it to me. I'll see that
+you're not misunderstood." He rose. "But I fear Buckley will withdraw
+his offer ... if so, we'll print the story of his Platt's Hall
+gambling house."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXII
+
+FATE TAKES A HAND
+
+Francisco found that Pickering's prophecy had been a true one. On a
+subsequent visit to the Bush street saloon he found the Blind Boss
+unapproachable. After waiting almost an hour and seeing several men who
+had come after him, led to the rear room for a conference, word was
+brought him by the little, keen-eyed man that the position of Mayor's
+secretary was already filled. He was exceedingly polite, expressing "Mr.
+Buckley's deep regret," about the matter. But there was in his eye a
+furtive mockery, in his tight-lipped mouth a covert sneer.
+
+Francisco went directly to the office of The Bulletin, relating his
+experience to the veteran editor. "I supposed as much," said Pickering.
+He tapped speculatively on the desk with his pencil. "What's more, I
+think there's little to be done at present. Printing the story of
+Platt's Hall will only be construed as a bit of political recrimination.
+San Francisco rather fancies gambling palaces."
+
+"Jack!" he called to a reporter. "See if you can locate Jerry Lynch." He
+turned to Stanley. "There's the fellow for you: Senator Jeremiah Lynch.
+Know him? Good. You get evidence on Buckley. Consult with Lynch
+concerning politics. He'll tell you ways to checkmate Chris you wouldn't
+dream of...."
+
+Pickering smiled and picked up a sheet of manuscript. Francisco took the
+hint. From that day he camped on Buckley's trail. Bit by bit he gathered
+proofs, some documentary, some testimonial. No single item was of great
+importance. But, as a whole, Robert had assured him, it was weaving a
+net in which the blind boss might one day find himself entrapped.
+Perhaps he felt its meshes now and then. For overtures were made to
+Stanley. He was offered the position of secretary to Mayor Pond, but he
+declined it. Word reached him of other opportunities; tips on the stock
+market, the races; he ignored them and went on.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+One night his house was broken into and his desk ransacked most
+thoroughly. Twice he was set upon at night, his pockets rifled. Threats
+came to him of personal violence. Finally the blind boss sent for him.
+
+"Is there anything you want--that I can give you?" Buckley minced no
+words.
+
+Stanley shook his head. Then, remembering Buckley's blindness, he said
+"No."
+
+Buckley took a few short paces up and down the room, then added: "I'll
+talk plain to you, my friend--because you're smart; too smart to be a
+catspaw for an editor and a politician who hate me. Let me tell you
+this, you'll do no good by keeping on." He spun about suddenly,
+threateningly, "You've a wife, haven't you?"
+
+"We'll not discuss that, Mr. Buckley," said Francisco stiffly.
+
+"Nevertheless it's true ... and children?"
+
+"N-not yet," said Francisco in spite of himself.
+
+"Oh, I see. Well, that's to be considered.... It's not what you'd call a
+time for taking chances, brother."
+
+"What d'ye mean?" Francisco was a trifle startled.
+
+"Nothing; nothing!" said the blind boss unctuously. "Think it over....
+And remember, I'm your friend. If there's anything you wish, come to me
+for it. Otherwise--"
+
+Stanley looked at him inquiringly, but did not speak. Nor did Buckley
+close his sentence. It was left suspended like the Damoclesian blade.
+Francisco went straight home and found Jeanne busied with her needle and
+some tiny garments, which of late had occupied her days. He was rather
+silent while they dined, a bit uneasy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Francisco usually went down town for lunch. There was a smart club
+called the Bohemian, where one met artists, actors, writers. Among them
+were young Keith, the landscape painter, who gave promise of a vogue;
+Charley Stoddard, big and bearded; they called him an etcher with words;
+and there were Prentice Mulford, the mystic; David Belasco of the
+Columbia Theater. Francisco got into his street clothes, kissed Jeanne
+and went out. It was a bright, scintillant day. He strode along
+whistling.
+
+At the club he greeted gaily those who sat about the room. Instead of
+answering, they ceased their talk and stared at him. Presently Stoddard
+advanced, looking very uncomfortable.
+
+"Let's go over there and have a drink," he indicated a secluded corner.
+"I want a chat with you."
+
+"Oh, all right," said Francisco. He followed Stoddard, still softly
+whistling the tune which had, somehow, caught his fancy. They sat down,
+Charley Stoddard looking preternaturally grave.
+
+"Well, my boy," Francisco spoke, "what's troubling you?"
+
+"Oh--ah--" said the other, "heard from your folks lately, Francisco?"
+
+"Yes, they're homeward bound. Ought to be off Newfoundland by now."
+
+The drinks came. Stanley raised his glass, drank, smiling. Stoddard
+followed, but he did not smile. "Can you bear a shock, old chap?" He
+blurted. "I--they--dammit man--the ship's been wrecked."
+
+Francisco set his glass down quickly. He was white. "The--The
+Raratonga?"
+
+Stoddard nodded. There was silence. Then, "Was any-body--drowned?"
+
+Stanley did not need an answer. It was written large in Stoddard's
+grief-wrung face. He got up, made his way unsteadily to the door. A page
+came running after with his hat and stick and he took them absently.
+Nearby was a newspaper office, crowds about it, bulletins announcing the
+Raratonga's total destruction with all on board.
+
+Francisco began to walk rapidly, without a definite sense of direction.
+He found relief in that. The trade-wind was sharp in his face and he
+pulled his soft hat down over his eyes. Presently he found himself in an
+unfamiliar locality--the water-front--amid a bustling rough-spoken
+current of humanity that eddied forward and back. There were many
+sailors. From the doors of innumerable saloons came the blare of
+orchestrions; now and then a drunken song.
+
+Entering one of the swinging doors, Francisco called for whisky. He felt
+suddenly a need for stimulant. The men at the long counter looked at him
+curiously. He was not of their kind. A little sharp-eyed man who was
+playing solitaire at a table farther back, looked up interested. He
+pulled excitedly at his chin, rose and signed to a white-coated
+servitor. They had their heads together.
+
+It was almost noon the following day when Chief Mate Chatters of the
+whaleship Greenland, en route for Behring Sea, went into the forecastle
+to appraise some members of a crew hastily and informally shipped.
+"Shanghaiing," it was called. But one had to have men. One paid the
+waterfront "crimps" a certain sum and asked no questions.
+
+"Who the devil's this?" He indicated a man sprawled in one of the bunks,
+who, despite a stubble of beard and ill-fitting sea clothes, was
+unmistakably a gentleman.
+
+"Don't know--rum sort for a sailor. Got knocked on the head in a
+scrimmage. Cawnt remember nothing but his name, Francisco."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXIII
+
+THE RETURN
+
+In the fall of 1898 a man of middle years walked slowly down the stairs
+which plunged a traveler from the new Ferry building's upper floor into
+the maelstrom of Market street's beginning. Cable cars were whirling on
+turn-tables, newsboys shouted afternoon editions; hack drivers, flower
+vendors, train announcers added their babel of strident-toned outcries
+to the clanging of gongs, the clatter of wheels and hoofs upon
+cobblestone streets. Ferry sirens screamed; an engine of the Belt Line
+Railroad chugged fiercely as it pulled a train of freight cars toward
+the southern docks.
+
+The stranger paused, apparently bewildered by this turmoil.
+
+He was a stalwart, rather handsome man, bearded and bronzed as if
+through long exposure. And in his walk there was a suggestion of that
+rolling gait which smacks of maritime pursuits. He proceeded aimlessly
+up Market street, gazing round him, still with that odd, half-doubting
+and half-troubled manner. In front of the Palace Hotel he paused, seemed
+about to enter, but went on. He halted once again at Third street,
+surveying a tall brick building with a clock tower.
+
+"What place is that?" he queried of a bystander.
+
+"That? Why, the Chronicle building."
+
+The stranger was silent for a moment. Then he said, in a curious,
+detached tone, "I thought it was at Bush and Kearney."
+
+"Oh, not for eight years," said the other. "Did you live here,
+formerly?"
+
+"I? No." He spoke evasively and hurried on. "I wonder what made me say
+that?" he mumbled to himself.
+
+Down Kearney street he walked. Now and then his eyes lit as if with some
+half-formed memory and he made queer, futile gestures with his hands.
+Before a stairway leading to an upper floor, he stopped, and, with the
+dreamy, passive air of a somnambulist, ascended, entering through
+swinging doors a large, pleasant room, tapestried, ornamented with
+paintings and statuary. Half a dozen men lounging in large leathern
+chairs glanced up and away with polite unrecognition. The stranger was
+made aware of a boy in a much-buttoned uniform holding a silver tray.
+
+"Who do you wish to see, sir?"
+
+"Oh--ah--" spoke the stranger, "this is the Bohemian Club, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes, sir. Shall I call the house manager, sir?"
+
+At the other's nod he vanished to return with a spectacled man who
+looked inquiring.
+
+"I beg your pardon--for intruding," said the bearded man slowly. "But--I
+couldn't help it.... I was once a member here."
+
+"Indeed?" said the spectacled man, tentatively cordial, still inquiring.
+"And you're name--"
+
+From the bearded lips there came a gutteral sound--as if speech had
+failed him. He gazed at the spectacled personage helplessly. "I--don't
+know." Sudden weakness seemed to seize him. Still with the helpless
+expression in his eyes, he retreated, found a chair and sank into it. He
+passed a hand feverishly before his eyes.
+
+The spectacled man acted promptly.
+
+"Garrison, you're one of the ancients round this club," he addressed a
+smiling, gray-haired man of plump and jovial mien. "Come and talk to the
+Mysterious Stranger.... Says he was a member ten or fifteen years
+ago.... Can't recollect who he is."
+
+"What do you wish me to do?" asked Garrison.
+
+"Pretend to recognize him. Talk to him about the Eighties.... Get him
+oriented. It's plainly a case of amnesia."
+
+He watched Garrison approach the bearded man with outstretched hand; saw
+the other take it, half reluctantly. The two retired to an alcove, had a
+drink and soon were deep in conversation. The stranger seemed to unfold
+at this touch of friendliness. They heard him laugh. Another drink was
+ordered. After half an hour Garrison returned. He seemed excited. "Hold
+him there till I return," he urged. "I'm going to a newspaper office to
+look at some files."
+
+Fifteen minutes later he was back. "Come," he said, "I've got a cab ...
+want you to meet a friend of mine." He took the still-dazed stranger's
+arm. They went out, entered a carriage and were driven off. As they
+passed the City Hall the stranger said, as though astonished. "Why--it's
+finished, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes, at last," Garrison smiled. "Even Buckley couldn't hold it back
+forever."
+
+"Buckley ... he's the one who promised me a job, Is Pond the Mayor now?"
+
+"No," returned the other. "Phelan." As he spoke the carriage stopped
+before a rather ornate dwelling, somewhat out of place amid surrounding
+offices and shops. The stranger started violently as they approached it.
+Again the gutteral sound came from his lips.
+
+The door opened and a woman appeared; a woman tall, sad-faced and
+eager-eyed. Beside her was a lad as tall as she. They stared at the
+bearded stranger, the boy wide-eyed and curious; the woman with a
+piercing, concentrated hope that fears defeat.
+
+The man took a stumbling step forward. "Jeanne!" He halted half abashed.
+But the woman sobbing, ran to him and put her arms about his neck. For
+an instant he stood, stiffly awkward, his face very red. Then something
+snapped the shackles of his prisoned memory. A cry burst from him,
+inarticulately joyous. His arms went round her.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It required weeks for Stanley to recover all his memories. It was a new
+world; Jeanne the one connecting link between the present and that still
+half-shadowy past from which he had been cast by some unceremonial jest
+of Fate into a strange existence. From the witless, nameless unit of a
+whaler's crew he had at last arisen to a fresh identity. Frank Starbird,
+they christened him, he knew not why. And when they found that he had
+clerical attainments, the captain, who was really a decent fellow, had
+befriended him; found him a berth in a store at Sitka.... Since then he
+had roamed up and down the world, mostly as purser of ships, forever
+haunted by the memory of some previous identity he could not fathom. He
+had been to Russia, India, Europe's seaports, landing finally at
+Baltimore. Thence some mastering impulse took him Westward. And here he
+was again, Francisco Stanley.
+
+It was difficult to realize that fifteen years had flown. Jeanne seemed
+so little older. But the tall young son was startling evidence of Time's
+passage. Stanley used to sit gazing at him silently during those first
+few days, as though trying to drink in the stupendous fact of his
+existence. Old friends called to hear his adventures; he was given a
+dinner at the club where he learned, with some surprise, that he was not
+unfamous as an author. Jeanne had finished his book and found a
+publisher. Between the advertisement of his mysterious disappearance and
+its real merits, the volume had a vogue.
+
+Robert had married Maizie after her mother's death. They lived in the
+Windham house in Old South Park, for Benito and Alice had never returned
+from the East. Po Lun and Hang Far had gone to China.
+
+Slowly life resumed its formed status for Francisco.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXIV
+
+THE "REFORMER"
+
+Francisco loved to wander round the town, explore its nooks and corners
+and make himself, for the time being, a part of his surroundings. A
+smattering of European languages aided him in this. He rubbed elbows
+with coatless workmen in French, Swiss, Spanish and Italian "pensions,"
+sitting at long tables and breaking black bread into red wine. He drank
+black coffee and ate cloying sweetmeats in Greek or Turkish cafes;
+hobnobbed with Sicilian fishermen, helping them to dry their nets and
+sometimes accompanying them in their feluccas into rough seas beyond the
+Heads. Now and then he invaded Chinatown and ate in their underground
+restaurants, disdaining the "chop suey" and sweets invariably served to
+tourists for the more palatable and engaging viands he had learned to
+like and name in Shanghai and Canton. Fortunately, he could afford to
+indulge his bent, for the value of his inheritance had increased
+extraordinarily in the past decade. Stanley's income was more than
+sufficient to insure a life of leisure.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At Market and Fourth streets stood a large and rather nondescript gray
+structure built by Flood, the Comstock millionaire. It had served for
+varied purposes, but now it housed the Palais Royal, an immense saloon
+and gambling rendezvous. In the massive, barn-like room, tile-floored
+and picture-ornamented, were close to a hundred tables where men of all
+descriptions drank, played cards and talked. Farther to the rear were
+private compartments, from which came the incessant click of
+poker chips.
+
+Francisco and Robert sometimes lunched at the Palais Royal. The former
+liked its color and the vital energy he always found there. Robert "sat
+in" now and then at poker. He had a little of his father's love for
+Chance, but a restraining sanity left him little the loser in the long
+run. Robert had three children, the eldest a girl of twelve. Petite and
+dainty Maizie had become a plump and bustling mother-hen.
+
+It was in the Palais Royal that Francisco met Abraham Ruef, a dapper and
+engaging gentleman of excellent address, greatly interested in politics.
+He was a graduate of the State University, where he had specialized in
+political economy.
+
+Francisco liked him, and they often sat for long discussions of the
+local situation after lunching at the Palais Royal. Ruef, in a small
+way, was a rival of Colonel Dan Burns, the Republican boss. Burns, they
+said, was jealous of Ruef's reform activites.
+
+"If one could get the laboring class together," Ruef told Stanley, "one
+could wield a mighty power. Some day, perhaps, I shall do it. The
+laborer is a giant, unconscious of his strength. He submits to Capital's
+oppression, unwitting of his own capacity to rule. For years we've had
+nothing but strikes, which have only strengthened employers."
+
+"Yes, they're always broken," said Francisco.
+
+"The strike is futile. Organization--political unity; that's the thing."
+
+"A labor party, eh?" Francisco spoke, a trifle dubiously.
+
+"Yes, but not the usual kind. It must be done right." His eyes shone.
+"Ah, I can see it all so plainly. If I could make it clear to others--"
+
+"Why don't you try?" asked Stanley.
+
+But Ruef shook his head. "I lack the 'presence.' Do you know what I
+mean? No matter how smart I may be, they see in me only a small man. So
+they think I have small ideas. That is human nature. And they say,
+'He's a Jew.' Which is another drawback."
+
+He was silent a moment. "I have thought it all out.... I must borrow the
+'presence.'"
+
+"What do you mean?" Francisco was startled.
+
+"We shall see," Ruef responded. "Perhaps I shall find me a man--big,
+strong, impressive--with a mind easily led.... Then I shall train him to
+be a leader. I shall furnish the brain."
+
+"What a curious thought!" said Francisco. Ruef, smiling, shook his head.
+"It is not new at all," he said. "If you read political history you will
+soon discover that."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Francisco worked at his novel. Word came of Alice Windham's death in
+Massachusetts. Robert urged his father to return to San Francisco, but
+Benito sought forgetfulness in European travel.
+
+Frank had finished high school; was a cub reporter on The Bulletin.
+Pickering was dead; his widow and her brother, R.A. Crothers, had taken
+over the evening paper; John D. Spreckels, sugar nabob, now
+controlled the Call.
+
+Newspaper policies were somewhat uncertain in these days of economic
+unrest. Strike succeeded strike, and with each there came a greater show
+of violence. Lines were more sharply drawn. Labor and capital organized
+for self-protection and offense.
+
+"I hear that Governor Gage is coming down to settle the teamsters'
+strike," said Francisco to his son as they lunched together one sultry
+October day in 1901. "I can't understand why he's delayed until now."
+
+"Probably wanted to keep out of it as long as possible," responded
+Frank. "There are strong political forces on each side ... but the story
+goes that Colonel 'Montezuma' Burns is jealous of Ruef's overtures to
+workingmen. So he's ordered the Governor to make a grandstand play."
+
+[Illustration: "Perhaps I shall find me a man--big, strong,
+impressive--with a mind easily led.... Then I shall train him to be a
+leader. I shall furnish the brain."]
+
+Stanley looked at his son in astonishment. He was not yet nineteen and
+he talked like a veteran of forty. Francisco wondered if these were his
+own deductions or mere parroted gossip of the office.
+
+Later that afternoon he met Robert and told him of Frank's comment.
+Robert thought the situation over ere he answered.
+
+"The employing class is fearful," he said. "They've controlled things so
+long they don't know what may happen if they lose the reins. It's plain
+that Phelan can't be re-elected. And it's true that if the labor men
+effect a real organization they may name the next Mayor. Rather a
+disturbing situation."
+
+"Have you heard any talk about a man named Schmitz? A labor candidate?"
+
+"Yes, I think I have. The chap's a fiddler in a theater orchestra. Big,
+fine looking. But I can't imagine that he has the brains to make a
+winning fight."
+
+"Big! Fine looking! Hm!" repeated Stanley.
+
+"Meaning--what?" asked Robert.
+
+"Nothing much.... I just remembered something Ruef was telling me." He
+walked on thoughtfully. "Might be a story there for the boy's paper," he
+cogitated.
+
+Ruef's offices were at the corner of Kearney and California streets.
+Thither, with some half-formed mission in his mind, Francisco took his
+way. A saturnine man took him up in a little box-like elevator, pointing
+out a door inscribed:
+
+     A. RUEF,
+     Att'y-at-Law.
+
+The reception-room was filled. Half a dozen men and two women sat in
+chairs which lined the walls. A businesslike young man inquired
+Francisco's errand. "You'll have to wait your turn," he said. "I can't
+go in there now ... he's in conference with Mr. Schmitz."
+
+Francisco decided not to wait. After all, he had learned what he came
+for.
+
+Abe Ruef had borrowed a "presence."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXV
+
+A NOCTURNAL ADVENTURE
+
+Stanley was to learn much more of Eugene Schmitz. It was in fact the
+following day that he met Ruef and the violinist at Zinkand's. Schmitz
+was a man of imposing presence. He stood over six feet high; his curly
+coal-black hair and pointed beard, his dark, luminous eyes and a certain
+dash in his manner, gave him a glamor of old-world romance. In a red cap
+and ermine-trimmed robe, he might have been Richelieu, defying the
+throne. Or, otherwise clad, the Porthos of Dumas' "Three Musketeers."
+
+Francisco could not help reflecting that Ruef had borrowed a very fine
+presence indeed.
+
+Ruef asked Francisco to his table. He talked a great deal about
+politics. Schmitz listened open-eyed; Stanley more astutely. All at once
+Ruef leaned toward Francisco.
+
+"What do you think of Mr. Schmitz--as a candidate for Mayor?" he asked.
+
+"I think," Francisco answered meaningly, "that you have chosen well."
+They rose, shook hands. To Francisco's surprise Schmitz left them. "I
+have a matinee this afternoon," he said. Ruef walked down Market street
+with Stanley.
+
+"He's leader of the Columbia orchestra.... I met him through my dealings
+with the Musicians' Union." Impulsively he grasped Francisco's arm.
+"Isn't he a wonder? I'll clean up the town with him. Watch me!"
+
+"And, are you certain you can manage this chap?"
+
+Ruef laughed a quiet little laugh of deep content. "Oh, Gene is
+absolutely plastic. Just a handsome musician. And of good, plain people.
+His father was a German band leader; his mother is Irish--Margaret
+Hogan. That will help. And he is a Native Son."
+
+Ruef babbled on. He had a great plan for combining all political
+factions--an altruistic dream of economic brotherhood. Francisco
+listened somewhat skeptically. He was not certain of the man's
+sincerity, but he admired Ruef. Of his executive ability there could
+be no doubt.
+
+Yet there was something vaguely wrong about the wondrous fitness of
+Ruef's plan. Mary Godwin Shelley's tale of "Frankenstein" came to
+Francisco's mind.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+That evening Frank said to his father, with a wink at Jeanne, "Want to
+go slumming with me tonight, father? I'm going to do my first signed
+story: 'The Night-Life of This Town'."
+
+"Do you think I ought to, Jeanne?" asked her husband whimsically. He
+glanced at his son. "This younger generation is a trifle--er--vehement
+for old fogies like me."
+
+Jeanne came over and sat on the arm of his chair. "Nonsense," she said,
+"you are just as young as ever, Francisco.... Yes, go with the boy, by
+all means. I'll run up to Maizie's for the evening. She's making a dress
+for Alice's birthday party. She will be sixteen next month."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Francisco and his son went gaily forth to see their city after dark.
+Truth to tell, the father knew more of it than the lad, who acted as
+conductor. Francisco's wanderings in search of 'local color' had
+included some nocturnal quests. However, he kept this to himself and let
+Frank do the guiding.
+
+They went, first, to a large circular building called the Olympia, at
+Eddy and Mason streets. It was the heart of what was called the
+Tenderloin, a gay and hectic region frequented by half-world folk, but
+not unknown to travelers nor to members of society, Slumming parties
+were both fashionable and frequent. Two girls were capering and
+carolling behind the footlights.
+
+"They are Darlton and Boice," explained young Stanley. "The one with the
+perpetual smile is a great favorite. She's Boice. She's got a daughter
+old as I, they say."
+
+They visited the Thalia, a basement "dive" of lower order, and returned
+to the comparative respectability of the Oberon beer hall on O'Farrell
+street, where a plump orchestra of German females played sprightly airs;
+thence back to Market street and the Midway. "Little Egypt," tiny,
+graceful, sensually pretty, performed a "danse du ventre," at the
+conclusion of a long program of crude and often ribald "turns." When
+"off-stage" the performers, mostly girls, drank with the audience in a
+tier of curtained boxes which lined the sides of the auditorium. At
+intervals the curtains parted for a moment and faces peered down. A
+drunken sailor in a forward box was tossing silver coins to a dancer.
+
+They made their exit, Francisco frankly weary and the young reporter
+bored by the unrelieved crudity of it all. A smart equipage, with
+champing horses, stood before the entrance. They paused to glance at it.
+
+"Looks like Harry Bear's carriage," Frank commented. "You know the young
+society blood who's had so many larks." He turned back. "Wait a minute,
+father, I'm going in. If Bear has a party upstairs in those boxes it'll
+make good copy."
+
+"It'll make a scandal, you mean," returned Francisco rather crisply.
+"You can't print the women's names."
+
+"Bosh!" the younger man retorted pertly. "Everyone's doing this sort of
+thing now. Come along, dad. See the fun." He caught his father's arm and
+they re-entered, taking the stairs, this time, to the boxes above. From
+one came a man's laughing banter. "That's he," Frank whispered, Hastily
+he drew his half reluctant father into a vacant box. A waiter brought
+them beer, collected half a dollar and inquired if they wanted
+"Company." Francisco shook his head.
+
+The man in the adjoining box was drunk, the girl was frightened. Their
+voices filtered plainly through the thin partition. He was urging her to
+drink and she was protesting. Finally she screamed. Stanley and his son
+sprang simultaneously to the rescue. They found a young man in an
+evening suit trying to kiss a very pretty girl.
+
+His ears were red where she had boxed them and as he turned a rather
+foolish face surprisedly toward the intruders, a scratch showed livid on
+one cheek. The girl's hair streamed disheveled by the struggle. She
+caught up, hastily, a handsome opera cloak to cover her torn corsage.
+
+"Please," she said, "get me out of here quickly.... I'll pay you well."
+Then she flushed as young Stanley stiffened. "I ... I beg your pardon."
+
+He offered her his arm and they passed from the box together. The
+befuddled swain, after a dazed interval, attempted to follow, but
+Francisco flung him back. He heard the carriage door shut with a snap,
+the clatter of iron-shod hoofs. Then he went out to look for Frank, but
+did not find him. Evidently he had gone with the lady. Francisco smiled.
+It was quite an adventure. Thoughtfully he gazed at the banners flung
+across Market street:
+
+     "VOTE FOR EUGENE SCHMITZ,
+
+     "The Workingman's Friend."
+
+That was Abraham Ruef's adventure. He wondered how each of them would
+end.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXVI
+
+POLITICS AND ROMANCE
+
+Ruef swept the field with his handsome fiddler. All "South of Market
+street" rallied to his support. The old line parties brought their
+trusty, well-oiled election machinery into play, but it availed
+them little.
+
+Robert and Francisco met one day soon after the election. "Everyone is
+laughing at our fiddler Mayor," said the former. "He's like a king
+without a court; for all the other offices were carried by Republicans
+and Democrats."
+
+Francisco smoked a moment thoughtfully. "Union Labor traded minor
+offices for Mayoralty votes, I understand. Meanwhile Ruef is building
+his machine. He has convinced the labor people that he knows the game.
+They've given him carte blanche."
+
+"And how does the big fellow take it?"
+
+"I was talking with him yesterday," Francisco answered. "Schmitz is shy
+just yet. But feels his dignity. Oh, mightily!" He laughed. "Little Abe
+will have his hands full with big 'Gene, I'm thinking."
+
+"But Ruef's not daunted by the prospect."
+
+"Heavens, no. The man has infinite self-confidence. And it's no fatuous
+egotism, either. A sort of suave, unshakable trust in himself. Abe
+Ruef's the cleverest politician San Francisco's known in many
+years--perhaps since Broderick. He makes such men as Burns and Buckley
+look like tyros--"
+
+Robert looked up quickly. "By the way, I've often wondered whether
+Buckley wasn't guilty of your disappearance. He meant you no good."
+
+"No," Francisco answered. "I've looked into that. Chris, himself, had
+no connection with it. Once he threatened me ... but I've since learned
+what he meant.... Just a little blackmail which concerned a woman.
+But--" he hesitated.
+
+Robert moved uneasily. "But--what?"
+
+"Oh, well, it didn't work. The girl he planned to use told him the
+truth." Francisco, too, seemed ill at ease. "It was so long ago ... it's
+all forgotten."
+
+"I trust so," said the other. Rather abruptly he rose. "Must be getting
+back to work."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Once a week Frank donned his evening clothes and was driven to a certain
+splendid home on Pacific Heights. Bertha Larned met him always with a
+smile--and a different gown. Each successive one seemed more splendid,
+becoming, costly. And ever the lady seemed more sweet as their intimacy
+grew. Once when Frank had stammered an enthusiastic appreciation of her
+latest gown--a wondrous thing of silk and lace that seemed to match the
+changing fires in her eyes--she said suddenly: "What a fright I must
+have looked that evening--in the Midway! And what you must have thought
+of me--in such a place!"
+
+"Do you wish to know just what I thought?" Frank asked her, reddening.
+
+"Yes." Her eyes, a little shamed, but brave, met his.
+
+"Well," he said, "you stood there with your hair all streaming and
+your--and that splendid fire in your eyes. The beauty of you struck me
+like a whip. You seemed an angel--after all the sordid sights I'd
+seen. And--"
+
+"Go on--please;" her eyes were shining.
+
+"Then--it's sort of odd--but I wanted to fight for you!"
+
+She came a little closer.
+
+"Some day, perhaps," she spoke with sudden gravity, "I may ask you to do
+that."
+
+"What? Fight for you?"
+
+Bertha nodded.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was after the Olympia had been made over into a larger Tivoli Opera
+House that Frank met Aleta Boice. She was a member of the chorus. Their
+acquaintance blossomed from propinquity, for both had a fashion of
+supping on the edge of midnight at a little restaurant, better known by
+its sobriquet of "Dusty Doughnut," than by its real name, which long ago
+had been forgotten.
+
+Frank had formed the habit of sitting at a small table somewhat isolated
+from the others where now and then he wrote an article or editorial.
+Hitherto it had unvaryingly been at his disposal, for the hour of
+Frank's reflection was not a busy one. Therefore he was just a mite
+annoyed to find his table tenanted by a woman. Perhaps his irritation
+was apparent; or, perchance, Aleta had a knack for reading faces, for
+she colored.
+
+"I--I beg your pardon. Have I got your place?"
+
+"N-no," protested Frank. "I sit here often ... that's no matter."
+
+"Well," she said; "don't let me drive you off. I'll not be
+comfortable.... Let's share it, then," she smiled; "tonight, at least."
+
+They did. Frank found her very like her mother--the smiling one of
+Darlton and Boice, Olympia entertainers of past years. One couldn't call
+her pretty, when her face was in repose. But that was seldom, so it
+didn't matter. Her smile was like a spring, a fountain of perennial good
+nature. And her eyes were trusting, like a child's. Frank often wondered
+how she had maintained that look of eager innocence amid the life
+she lived.
+
+Frank learned much of her past. She could barely remember the father,
+who was a circus acrobat and had been killed by a fall from a trapeze.
+Her mother had retired from the stage; she was doing needlework for the
+department stores and the Woman's Exchange.
+
+"Every morning she teaches me grammar," said Aleta. "Mother's never
+wanted me to talk slang like the other girls. She says if you're
+careless with your English you get careless of your principles. Mother's
+got a lot of quaint ideas like that."
+
+Again came her rippling laugh. Frank grew to enjoy her; look forward to
+the nightly fifteen minutes of companionship. They never met anywhere
+else. But when an illness held Aleta absent for a week the Dusty
+Doughnut seemed a lonesome place.
+
+Bertha twitted Frank upon his absent-mindedness one evening as he dined
+with her. By an effort he shook off his vagary of the other girl. He
+loved Bertha. But, for some unfathomed cause, she held him off. Never
+had she let him reach a declaration.
+
+"We're such marvelous friends!... Can't we always be that--just that?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Things drifted on. Schmitz, as a Mayor, caused but small remark. He
+reminded Frank of a rustic, sitting at a banquet board and watching his
+neighbors before daring to pick up a fork or spoon. But Ruef went on
+building his fences. Union Labor was now a force to deal with. And Ruef
+was Union Labor.
+
+One of Robert's clients desired to open a French restaurant, with the
+usual hotel appurtenances. He made application in the usual manner. But
+the license was denied.
+
+Robert was astonished for no reason was assigned and all requests for
+explanation were evaded.
+
+A week or so later, Robert met the restaurateur. "Well, I've done it,"
+said the latter, jovially. "Open Monday, Come around and eat with me."
+
+"But--how did you manage it?"
+
+"Oh, I took a tip. I made Ruef my attorney. Big retaining fee," he
+sighed. "But--well, it's worth the price."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXVII
+
+ALETA'S PROBLEM
+
+By the end of Schmitz' second term the Democrats and Republicans were
+thoroughly alarmed. They saw a workingmen's control of city government
+loom large and imminent, with all its threat of overturned political
+tradition.
+
+So the old line parties got together. They made it a campaign of
+Morality against imputed Vice. They selected as a fusion standard-bearer
+George S. Partridge, a young lawyer of unblemished reputation--and of
+untried strength.
+
+"If Ruef succeeds a third time," Frank said to his father, "he'll
+control the town. He'll elect a full Board of Supervisors ... that is
+freely prophesied if Union Labor wins. You ought to see his list of
+candidates--waffle bakers, laundry wagon drivers--horny-fisted sons of
+toil and parasites of politics. Heaven help us if they get in power!"
+
+"But there's always a final reckoning ... like the Vigilance Committee,"
+said Francisco, slowly. "Somehow, I feel that there's a shakeup coming."
+
+"A moral earthquake, eh?" laughed Jeanne. "I wouldn't want to have a
+real one, with all of our new skyscrapers."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+After dinner Stanley and his son strolled downtown together. Exercise
+and diet had been recommended, Francisco was acquiring embonpoint. Frank
+was enthusiastic over the new motor carriages called automobiles.
+
+Robert had one of them--the gasoline type--with a _chauffeur_, as the
+French called the drivers of such machines. Bertha Larned had an
+"electric coupe," very handsome and costly, with plate-glass windows on
+three sides. She drove it herself. Frank sometimes encountered it
+downtown, looking like a moving glass cage, with the two women in it.
+Mrs. Larned, the aunt, always had a slightly worried expression, and
+Bertha, as she steered the thing through a tangle of horse-drawn
+traffic, wore a singularly determined look.
+
+There were cable cars on most of the streets; a few electric lines which
+ran much more swiftly. But people deemed the latter dangerous. There was
+much popular sentiment against electrizing Market street. The United
+Railways, which had succeeded the old Market Street Railway Company, was
+in disfavor. There were rumors of illicit bargains with the Supervisors
+for the granting of proposed new franchises. Young Partridge made much
+of this. He warned the public that it was about to be "betrayed." But
+his prophetic eloquence availed him little. Schmitz and all the Union
+Labor candidates won by a great majority.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Frank sought Aleta at the Dusty Doughnut some months later. He was very
+tired, for the past few days had brought a multitude of tasks. He had
+counted on Aleta's smile. It seldom failed to cheer him, to restore the
+normal balance of his mind. But, though she came, the smile was absent.
+There was a faint ghost of it now and again; a harried look about the
+eyes. Frank thought there was a mistiness which hinted recent tears.
+
+He laid a hand sympathetically on hers. "What is it, little girl?"
+
+She would not tell him. Her mother was ill. But the trouble did not lie
+there. Frank was sure. She had borne that burden long and
+uncomplainingly. Aleta had an ingenue part now at the Alcazar. Only once
+or twice a week did she keep the tacit tryst at the little nocturnal
+cafe. Frank saw her at the Techau, at Zinkand's, the St. Germain, with
+the kind of men that make love to actresses. She knew all about the
+stock market and politics, for some of Ruef's new Supervisors were among
+her swains. Once or twice, as the jargon of the journals has it, she had
+"tipped off" a story to Frank.
+
+She said at last, "I'll tell you something ... but you mustn't print it:
+This new city government is running wild.... They're scheming to hold up
+the town. They've made a list of all the corporations--the United
+Railways, the telephone company.... Everyone that wants a favor of the
+city must pay high. The man who told me this said that his share will
+total $30,000. Ruef and Schmitz will probably be millionaires."
+
+"But how's it to be done? They're being watched, you know. They've lots
+of enemies. Bribery would land them in the penitentiary."
+
+The girl leaned forward. "Ah, this isn't ordinary bribery. Anyone that
+wants a franchise or a license hires Ruef as his attorney. They say he
+gets as high at $10,000 for a retaining fee ... and they expect to clean
+the street car company out of a quarter million."
+
+Prank stared. "Why--in God's name!--did he tell you this?"
+
+"He loves me." There was something like defiance in her answer. "He
+wants me to accompany him to Europe--when he gets the coin. He says it
+won't be long."
+
+"So"--Frank was a little nonplussed--"he wants you to marry him?"
+
+"No," the girl's face reddened. "No, I can't ... he's got a wife."
+
+For a moment there was silence. Then. "What did you tell the--hound,
+Aleta?"
+
+"He's not a hound," she said evenly. "The wife won't care. She runs with
+other men...." Her eyes would not meet Frank's. "I--haven't answered."
+
+"But--your mother!"
+
+"Mother's mind is gone," Aleta answered, bitterly. "She doesn't even
+recognize me now.... But she's happy." Her laugh rang, mirthless.
+
+"Aleta," he said, sternly, "do you love this man?"
+
+"No," she said and stared at him. "I--I--"
+
+"What?"
+
+"I love another--if you must know all about it."
+
+"Can't you--marry _him?_ Is he too poor?" asked Stanley.
+
+"Poor?" Her eyes were stars; "that wouldn't matter. No, he's not my
+sort...."
+
+"Does he know?"
+
+"No," Aleta answered, hastily. "No, he doesn't ... and he never will."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Frank told his father something of the conversation.
+
+"Its an open secret," said Francisco, "that Ruef and his crew are out
+for the coin. I'll tell you something else you mustn't print, your paper
+is determined to expose Ruef. The managing editor is on his way to
+Washington to confer with President Roosevelt.... The plan is to borrow
+Francis Heney and William J. Burns."
+
+"What? The pair that has been exposing Senators and land frauds up in
+Oregon?"
+
+His father nodded. "Phew!" The young man whistled. "You were right when
+you predicted that there was a shakeup coming."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Frank, expecting startling things to happen, kept his mind alert. But
+the months passed uneventfully. The editor returned from Washington. No
+sensational announcement followed the event. Later it was rumored that
+Burns had sent operatives to the city. They were gathering evidence, one
+understood, but if they did, naught seemed to come of it. Frank was
+vaguely disappointed. Now and then he saw Aleta, but the subject of
+their former talk was not resumed. Vaguely he wondered what manner of
+man was her beloved.
+
+Frank resented the idea that he was above her. Aleta was good enough
+for any man.
+
+Bertha was visiting her aunt's home in the East. She had been very
+restless and capricious just before she went. All women were thus, he
+supposed. But he missed her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXVIII
+
+THE FATEFUL MORN
+
+On the evening of April 17, 1906, Frank and Bertha, who had recently
+returned, attended the opera. The great Caruso, whose tenor voice had
+taken the East by storm, and whose salary was reputed to be fabulous,
+had come at last to San Francisco. Fremsted, almost equally famous, was
+singing with him in "Carmen" at the Grand Opera House. All the town
+turned out in broadcloth, diamonds, silks and decollete to hear them--a
+younger generation of San Franciscans assuming a bit uncomfortably that
+social importance which had not yet become genealogically sure
+of itself.
+
+Frank and Bertha drove down in the electric brougham, for which they had
+with difficulty found a place along the vehicle-lined curb of Mission
+street. And, as they were early, they halted in the immense and
+handsome, though old-fashioned, foyer to observe the crowd. The air was
+heavy with perfume.
+
+"Look at that haughty dame with a hundred-thousand dollar necklace," he
+smiled. "One would have thought her father was at least a king. Forty
+years ago he drove a dray.... And that one with the ermine coat and
+priceless tiara. Wouldn't you take her for a princess? Ah, well, more
+power to her! But her mother cleaned soiled linen in Washerwoman's
+Lagoon and her dad renovated cuspidors, swept floors in the
+Bella Union."
+
+But the girl did not seem interested. "I wonder," she remarked a little
+later, "why it makes so very much--ah--difference ... who one's
+parents were?"
+
+There was a curious, half-detached sadness in her tone. Frank wondered
+suddenly if he had blundered. Bertha had never mentioned her parents. He
+vaguely understood that they had died abroad and had foreborne to
+question, fearing to arouse some tragic memory.
+
+"Of course, it really doesn't matter," he said hastily; "it's only when
+people put on airs that I think of such things." She took his arm with
+fingers that trembled slightly. "Let us go in. The overture is
+beginning."
+
+During an intermission she whispered. "I wish I were like Carmen--bold
+enough to fight the world for lo--for what I wanted."
+
+"Aren't you?" he turned and looked at her.
+
+"No, sometimes I'm overwhelmed ... feel as though I can't look life in
+the face." He saw that her lips were trembling, that her eyes were
+winking back the tears.
+
+"What is it, dear?" he questioned. But she did not answer. The curtain
+rose upon the final act.
+
+Silently they moved out with a throng whose silk skirts swished and
+rustled. The men were restless, glad of a chance at the open and a
+smoke; the women gay, exalted, half intoxicated by the musical appeal to
+their emotions. There was an atmosphere almost of hysteria in the great
+swiftly emptying auditorium.
+
+"I feel sort of--smothered," Bertha said; "suppose we walk."
+
+"Gladly," answered Frank, "but what about the coupe?"
+
+"There's one of these new livery stables with machine shop attached not
+far away. They call it a garage.... We'll leave the brougham there,"
+she said.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The night was curiously still--breathless one might have called it.
+While the temperature was not high, there was an effect of warmth,
+vaguely disturbing like the presage of a storm. As they traversed a
+region of hotels and apartment houses, Frank and Bertha noted many open
+windows; men and women staring out half dreamily. They passed a livery
+stable, out of which there came a weird uncanny dissonance of horses
+neighing in their stalls.
+
+"Tell me of your actress friend. Do you see her often?" Bertha asked.
+
+"Not very. She's a good pal. But she's ... well, not like you."
+
+Her eyes searched him. "Do you mean she's not as--pretty, Frank?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know," he answered. "It's because I love you, dear. Aleta's
+right enough. But she's not--oh, you know--essential."
+
+Bertha squeezed his arm. Was silent for a moment. Then, "Aleta's father
+was a circus rider?"
+
+"Acrobat. Yes, he was killed when she was quite a child."
+
+"But she remembers him; they were married, her mother" and he."
+
+"Why, yes, I suppose so ... naturally."
+
+There was another silence. Suddenly he turned on her, perplexed.
+"Bertha, what is wrong with you tonight?"
+
+They were crossing a little park high up above the city whose lights
+lay, shimmering and misty, below. The stillness was obtrusive here. Not
+a leaf stirred. There was no one about. They might have been alone upon
+some tropic peak.
+
+"I--can't tell you, Frank." Her tone of blended longing and despair
+caught at his heart.
+
+Impetuously his arms went around her. "Dear," he said unsteadily. "Dear,
+I want you.... Oh, Bertha, I've waited so long! I don't care any more if
+you're rich ... I'm going to--you've got to promise...."
+
+She tried to protest, to push him away; but Frank held her close. And,
+after a moment, like a tired child's, her head lay quiet on his
+shoulder; her arms stole round his neck; she began to weep softly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The horror came at dawn.
+
+Frank, startled from a late and restless slumber, thought that he was
+being shaken or attacked by some intruder. He sprang up, sleepily
+bewildered. The room rocked with a quick, sharp, jerking motion that was
+strangely terrifying. There was a dull indescribable rumbling,
+punctuated by a sound of falling things. A typewriter in one end of the
+room went over on the floor. A shaving mug danced on the shelf and fell.
+The windows rattled and a picture on the wall swayed drunkenly.
+
+"Damn!" Frank rubbed his eyes. "An earthquake!"
+
+He heard his mother's scream; his father's reassuring answer. Hurriedly
+he reached for his clothes. Downstairs he found his father endeavoring
+to calm the frightened servants, one of whom appeared to have hysterics.
+Presently his mother entered with the smelling salts. Soon the maid's
+unearthly laughter ceased.
+
+"Anyone hurt?" Frank questioned anxiously.
+
+"No," his father answered. "Thought the house was going over ... but
+there's little damage done."
+
+Suddenly Frank thought of Bertha. He must go to her. She would be
+frightened.
+
+He ran into the debris-cluttered street. Cable cars stood here and
+there, half twisted from the tracks, pavements were littered with bricks
+from fallen chimneys, bits of window glass. Men and women in various
+degrees of dishabille, were issuing from doorways. As he mounted higher,
+Frank saw smoke spirals rising from the southeastern part of town. He
+heard the strident clang of firegongs.
+
+Automobiles were tearing to and fro, with a great shrieking of siren
+whistles.
+
+It seemed like a nightmare through which he tore, without a sense of
+time or movement, arriving finally at the marble vestibule of Bertha's
+home. It was open and he rushed in, searching, calling. But he got no
+answer. Bertha, servants, aunt--all apparently had fled.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX
+
+THE TURMOIL
+
+Frank never knew just why he turned toward the town from Bertha's empty
+dwelling. It was an involuntary reaction. The excitement of those lower
+levels seemed to call, and thence he sped. Several times
+acquaintances--newspaper men and others--accosted him. Everyone was
+eagerly alert, feverishly interested, as if by some great adventure.
+Japanese boys were sweeping up the litter in front of stores. In many
+places things were being put in order, as if the trouble were over. But
+at other points there was confusion and dread. Half-dressed men and
+women wandered about, questing for a cup of coffee, but there was none
+to be had, for the gas mains had broken.
+
+People converged toward parks and open spaces. Union Square was crowded
+with a strangely varied human mass; opera singers from the St. Francis
+Hotel, jabbering excitedly in Italian or French, and making many
+gestures with their jeweled hands; Chinese and Japanese from the
+Oriental quarter hard by; women-of-the-town, bedraggled, sleepy-eyed and
+fearful; sailors, clerks, folk from apartment houses.
+
+Near the pansy bed a woman lay. She screamed piercingly at intervals.
+Frank learned that she was in travail. By and by a doctor came, a nurse.
+They were putting up tents on the green sward. Automobiles rolled up,
+sounding their siren alarms. Out of them were carried bandaged men who
+moaned, silent forms on litters, more screaming women. They were taken
+to the tents. Extra police appeared to control the crowds that surged
+hither and thither without seeming reason, swayed by sudden curiosities
+and trepidation.
+
+San Francisco was burning. The water mains were broken by the quake,
+Frank learned. The fire department was demoralized. Chief Sullivan was
+dead. A falling chimney from the California Hotel had crushed him.
+
+There were emergency reservoirs, but no one seemed to know where. They
+had not been used for years.
+
+Swiftly the fire gained. It ravaged like a fiend in the factory district
+south and east, toward the bay.
+
+By noon a huge smoke curtain hid the sky; through it the sun gleamed
+palely like a blood-red disc. Wild rumors were in circulation. Los
+Angeles was wiped out. St. Louis had been destroyed. New York and
+Chicago were inundated by gigantic tidal waves.
+
+Frank decided to return home and discover how his people fared. Perhaps
+there would be a bite for him. He found his father's house surrounded by
+a cordon of young soldiers--student militiamen from Berkeley, some one
+said. They ordered him off.
+
+"But--" he cried. "It's my HOME. My father and mother are there."
+
+"They were ordered out two hours since," said a youthful officer, who
+came up to settle the dispute. "We'll have to dynamite the place.... No
+water.... Desperate measures necessary...."
+
+He stopped Frank's effort to reply with further stereotyped
+announcements. "Orders of the Admiral, Mayor, Chief of Police.... Sorry.
+Can't be helped.... Keep back, everybody. Men have orders to shoot."
+
+He made off tempestuously busy and excited.
+
+Frank shouted after him, "Wait, where have my parents gone? Did they
+leave any word?"
+
+The young man turned, irritably. "Don't know," he answered, and resumed
+his vehement activities. Frank, with a strange, empty feeling, retraced
+his way, fought a path by means of sheer will and the virtue of his
+police badge across Market street, and struck out toward Lafayette
+Square. Scarcely realizing it, he was bound for Aleta's apartment.
+
+A warped shaft had incapacitated the automatic elevator, so he climbed
+three flights of stairs and found Aleta packing.
+
+"Frank!" she cried, and ran to him. "This is good of you." She took both
+of his hands and clung to them as if she were a little frightened.
+
+"Wait," she said. "I'll bet you've had nothing to eat. I'll make you a
+cup of coffee and a toasted cracker on the spirit lamp."
+
+Silently he sat on a broken chair and watched her. He was immensely
+grateful and--he suddenly realized--immensely weary. What a dear girl
+Aleta was! And he had not thought of her till all else failed him.
+
+Soon the coffee was steaming in two little Dresden cups, one minus a
+handle. There was a plateful of crackers, buttered and toasted, a bit of
+Swiss cheese. Frank had never tasted anything so marvelous.
+
+"Where were you going?" he asked, finally.
+
+"To the park ... the panhandle ... everybody's going there."
+
+"Your--mother!" A swift recollection smote him. "Where is she?"
+
+"Mother died last week," Aleta turned away. "I'm rather thankful--now."
+
+Silently he helped her with the packing. There were a suitcase and a
+satchel for the choice of her possessions. They required much picking
+and choosing. Many cherished articles must be abandoned.
+
+Suddenly Aleta ran to Frank. The room was rocking. Plaster fell about
+them. The girl screamed. To his astonishment, Frank found his arms
+around her waist. He was patting her dark, rumpled hair. Her hands were
+on his shoulders, and her piquant, wistful face close to his own. She
+had sought him like a frightened child. And he, with masculine
+protective impulse, had responded. That was all. Or was it? They looked
+into each other's eyes, bewildered, shaken. All was quiet now. The
+temblor had passed instantly and without harm.
+
+In the street they joined a motley aggregation moving westward in
+horse-driven vehicles, automobiles, invalid chairs, baby buggies and
+afoot. Rockers, filled with household goods, tied down and pulled by
+ropes, were part of the procession. Everyone carried or dragged the
+maximum load his or her strength allowed.
+
+When they reached that long narrow strip of park called the Panhandle it
+was close to dusk. They advanced some distance ere they found a vacant
+space. The first two blocks were covered like a gypsy camp with wagons,
+trunks and spread-out salvage of a hundred hastily abandoned homes.
+Improvised tents had been fashioned from blankets or sheets. Before one
+of these a bearded man was praying lustily for salvation. A neighbor
+watched him, smiling, and drank deeply from a pocket flask. A stout
+woman haled Aleta. "You and your husband got any blankets?" she asked.
+
+"No," the girl said, reddening. "No, we haven't ... and he's not ..."
+
+"Well, never mind," the woman answered. "Take these two. It may come
+cold 'fore morning. And I've got more than I can use. We brung the
+wagon." She drew the girl aside and nudged her in the ribs.
+
+"We ain't married, either--Jim 'n' me. But what's the diff?"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXX
+
+AFTERMATH
+
+About daylight the next morning Frank was awakened by a soft pattering
+sound. He jumped to his feet. Was it raining? All about folk stirred,
+held forth expectant hands to feel the drops. But they were fine white
+flakes--ashes from the distant conflagration. Aleta still lay moveless,
+wrapped in her blanket some ten feet away. They had been up most of the
+night, watching the flames, had seen them creep across Market street, up
+Powell, Mason, Taylor, Jones streets to Nob Hill. Finally Frank had
+persuaded Aleta to seek a little rest. Despite her protest that sleep
+was impossible, he had rolled her in one of the borrowed blankets,
+wrapping himself, Indianwise, in the other. Toward morning slumber had
+come to them both.
+
+Aleta, now awake, smiled at Frank and declared herself refreshed. "What
+had we better do next?" she questioned.
+
+Frank pondered. "Go to the Presidio, I guess. The army's serving food
+out there, I hear." He returned the blankets to their owner and the two
+of them set forth. On Oak street, near the mouth of Golden Gate Park, a
+broken street main spouted geyser-like out of the asphalt. They snatched
+a hurried drink, laved their faces and hands and went on, passing a
+cracker wagon, filled with big tin containers, and surrounded by a
+hungry crowd. The driver was passing out crackers with both hands,
+casting aside the tins when they were empty.
+
+"It's like the Millennium," Aleta remarked. "All classes of people
+herded together in common good will. Do you see that well-fed looking
+fellow carrying the ragged baby? He's a corporation lawyer. He makes
+$50,000 a year I'm told. And the fat woman he's helping with her
+numerous brood is a charwoman at the Alcazar theatre."
+
+Frank looked and laughed. "Why--it's my Uncle Robert!" he exclaimed.
+
+Robert Windham held out his free hand to Frank and Aleta. His family was
+safe, he told them. So were Francisco and Jeanne, who had joined the
+Windhams when the Stanley home was dynamited. They had gone to Berkeley
+and would stay with friends of Maizie's.
+
+Frank wrote down the address. He decided to remain in San Francisco.
+There was Aleta.... And, somehow, Bertha must be located.
+
+Everyone was bound for the Presidio.
+
+"You may find me there later," said Windham. "I've some--er--business on
+this side."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At the great military post which slopes back on the green headlands from
+the Golden Gate, Frank and Aleta found a varied company. The hospitals
+were filled with men and women burned in the fire or hurt by falling
+walls. There were scores--perhaps a hundred of them. Frank, with his
+heart in his mouth, made a survey of the hospitals, after finding tent
+room for Aleta. His press badge gained admittance for him everywhere and
+he went through a pretence of taking notes. But he was looking for
+Bertha. At a large tent they were establishing an identification bureau,
+a rendezvous for separated families, friends or relatives. Many people
+crowded this with frantic inquiries.
+
+Soup was being served at the mess kitchens. Great wagons filled with
+loaves of bread drove in and were apportioned. Men, women and children
+formed in line to get their shares.
+
+The sky was still covered with smoke. Late comers reported that the fire
+had crossed Van Ness avenue. There were orders posted all about that one
+must not build fires indoors nor burn lights at night. Those who
+disobeyed would be shot. The orders were signed by Mayor Schmitz.
+Saloons had been closed for an indefinite period. Two men, found looting
+the dead, had been summarily executed by military order. Hundreds of
+buildings were being dynamited. The dull roar of these frequent
+explosions was plainly discernible at the Presidio.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+After they had eaten Frank said good-bye to Aleta. He was going back to
+town. The feverish adventure of it called him. And he had learned that
+there were many other camps of refugees. In one of these he might find
+Bertha. A milk wagon, clattering over the cobblestones overtook him and,
+without an invitation, he climbed aboard. Frank had little sense of
+destination or purpose. He wanted action. The thought of Bertha tugged
+at him now like a pain, insistent, quenchless. He tried to stifle it by
+movement, by absorbing interest in the wondrous drama all about him.
+
+Suddenly he sprang from the wagon. They had reached the park where he
+had learned of Bertha's love. Frank scarcely recognized the tiny
+pleasure ground, so covered was it with tents and bedding. It swarmed
+with people--a fact which Frank resented oddly. In the back of his mind
+was a feeling that this spot was sacred.
+
+He made his way among the litter of fabrics and humanity. These were
+mostly people from the valley where a foreign section lay. Loudly and
+excitedly they chattered in strange tongues, waving their hands about.
+Children wailed. All was disorder, uncontrol.
+
+Sickened of the place Frank turned to go, but something tugged at his
+coatsleeve; a haggard, elderly dishevelled man.
+
+Frank looked at the fellow in wonder. Then he gave a cry and took
+the fellow by the shoulders. He had recognized, despite disguising
+superficialities of garb and manner, Bertha's once spick-and-span
+butler.
+
+"God Almighty, Jarvis!" Frank could scarcely speak, his heart was
+pounding so. "Wh--where is she--Bertha?"
+
+"Come with me, sir," said the old man sadly. He led the way past
+sheet-hung bushes, over crumb-and-paper sprinkled lawns to a little
+retreat under sheltering trees. One had to stoop to enter that arbored,
+leaf encircled nest through which the sun fell like a dappled pattern on
+the grass. Frank adjusted his eyes to the dimmer light before he took in
+the picture: a girl lying, very pale and still, upon a gorgeous Indian
+blanket. She looked at him, cried out and stretched her arms
+forth feebly.
+
+"Bertha!" He knelt down beside her, pressed his lips to hers. Her arms
+about his neck were cold but strangely vibrant. For a moment they
+remained thus. Then he questioned, anxiously, "Bertha? What is wrong?"
+
+"Everything! The world!" she whispered. "When you left me dearest, I was
+happy! I had never dreamed that one could be so glad! But afterward ...
+I didn't dare to face the morning--and the truth!" Her lips quivered.
+"I--I couldn't stand it, Frank," she finished weakly.
+
+"She took morphia," said Jarvis. "When the earthquake came I couldn't
+wake her. I was scared. I carried her out here."
+
+"You tried to kill yourself!" Frank's tone was shocked, condemning.
+"After Tuesday night?"
+
+Her eyes craved pardon. She essayed to speak but her lips made wordless
+sounds. Finally she roused a little, caught his hand and held it to
+her breast.
+
+"Ask your Uncle Robert, dear?" she whispered. Her eyes looked into his
+with longing, with renunciation. A certain peace stole into them and
+slowly the eyelids closed.
+
+Frank, who had half grasped the meaning of her words, leaned forward
+fearfully. The hand which held his seemed colder, more listless. There
+was something different. Something that he could not name--that
+frightened him.
+
+Suddenly he realized its meaning. The heart which had pulsed beneath his
+fingers was still.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXI
+
+READJUSTMENT
+
+Of the trip to Berkeley which followed, Frank could not afterward recall
+the slightest detail. Between the time when, like a madman, he had tried
+to rouse his sweetheart from that final lethargy which knew no waking,
+and the moment when he burst upon his Uncle Robert with what must have
+seemed an insane question, Frank lost count of time.
+
+He was in the library of an Alameda county lawyer, host of the Stanley
+and the Windham families. Across the mahogany table, grasping the back
+of a chair for support, one hand half outstretched in a supplicating
+gesture, stood his Uncle Robert--pale, shaken ghost of the
+self-possessed man that he usually was. Between them, imminent with
+subtle violence, was the echo of Frank's question, hurled, like an
+explosive missile at the elder man:
+
+"Why did Bertha Larned kill herself?"
+
+After an interval of silence Windham pulled himself together; looked
+about him hastily ere he spoke. "Hush! Not here! Not now!" The eyes
+which sought Frank's were brilliant with suffering. "Is she--dead?"
+
+The young man nodded dumbly. Something like a sob escaped the elder. He
+was first to speak. "Come. We must get out of here. We must have a
+talk." He opened the door and went out, Frank following. In the street,
+which sloped sharply downward from a major elevation, they could see the
+bay of San Francisco, the rising smoke cloud on the farther shore. They
+walked together upward, away from the houses, toward a grove of
+eucalyptus trees. Here Robert halted and sat down. He seemed utterly
+weary. Frank stood looking down across the valley.
+
+"Bertha Larned was my daughter," said his uncle almost fiercely.
+
+Frank did not turn nor start as Windham had expected. One might have
+thought he did not hear. At length, however, he said slowly, "I
+suspected that--a little. But I want to know."
+
+"I--can't tell you more," said the other brokenly.
+
+"Who--who was her mother, Uncle Bob?"
+
+"If you love her, Frank, don't ask that question."
+
+The young man snapped a dry twig from a tree and broke it with a sort of
+silent concentration into half a dozen bits. "Then--it's true ... the
+tale heard round town! That you and--"
+
+"Yes, yes," Windham interrupted, "Frank, it's true."
+
+"The--procuress?"
+
+"Frank! For God's sake!" Windham's fingers gripped his nephew's arm.
+"Don't let Maizie know. I've tried to live it down these twenty
+years...."
+
+"Damn it, do you think I'd tell Aunt Maizie?"
+
+"It's--I can't believe it yet! That you--"
+
+"Maizie wouldn't leave her mother." With a flicker of defiance Robert
+answered him. "I was young, rudderless, after my people went East.... A
+little wild, I guess."
+
+"So you sought consolation?"
+
+"Call it what you like," the other answered. "Some things are too strong
+for men. They overwhelm one--like Fate."
+
+Frank began pacing back and forth, his fingers opening and shutting
+spasmodically.
+
+"Uncle Bob," he said at length, "... after you married, what became--"
+
+"Her mother sent the child East--to a sister. She was well
+raised--educated. If she'd only stayed there, in that Massachusetts
+town!"
+
+"Then--Bertha didn't know?"
+
+"Not till she came to San Francisco, after her mother's death. She had
+to come to settle the estate. The mother left her everything--a string
+of tenements. She was rich."
+
+"Bertha came to you, then, I suppose."
+
+"Yes, she came to me," said Robert Windham.
+
+Suddenly, as though the memory overwhelmed him, Windham's face sank
+forward in his hands.
+
+"She was very sweet," his voice broke pitifully. "I--loved her."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Several days later Frank and his father paid a visit to the ruined city.
+One had to get passes in Oakland and wear them on one's hat. Sightseers
+were not admitted nor carried on ferry boats, trains.
+
+Already Telegraph Hill was dotted with new habitations. It was rumored
+that Andrea Sbarbora, banker and patron of the Italian Colony, was
+bringing a carload of lumber from Seattle which he would sell to fire
+sufferers on credit and at cost. The spirit of rehabilitation
+was strong.
+
+Frank was immensely cheered by it. But Francisco was overwhelmed by the
+desolation. "I am going South," he told his son. "I can't bear to see
+this. I don't even know where I am."
+
+It was true. One felt lost in those acres of ashes and debris. Familiar
+places seemed beyond memorial reconstruction, so smitten was the mind by
+this horror of leveled buildings, gutted walls and blackened streets.
+
+Francisco and Jeanne went to San Diego. There the former tried to
+refashion the work of many months--two hundred pages of a novel which
+the flames destroyed. Robert Windham and his family journeyed to Hawaii.
+Frank did not see his uncle after that talk in the Berkeley Hills.
+
+Parks and public spaces were covered with little green cottages in
+orderly rows. Refugee camps one termed then and therein lived 20,000 of
+the city's homeless.
+
+Street cars were running. Passengers were carried free until the first
+of May. Patrick Calhoun was trying to convert the cable roads into
+electric lines in spite of the objection of the improvement clubs. He
+was negotiating with the Supervisors for a blanket franchise to
+electrize all of his routes.
+
+"And he'll get it, too," Aleta told Frank as they dined together. "It's
+arranged, I understand, for quarter of a million dollars."
+
+Frank pondered. "What'll Langdon say to that?"
+
+William H. Langdon was the district attorney, a former superintendent of
+schools, whom Ruef had put on his Union Labor ticket to give it tone.
+But Langdon had refused to "take program." He had even raided the
+"protected" gamblers, ignoring Ruef's hot insinuations of "ingratitude."
+
+"Oh, Ruef's too smart for Langdon," said Aleta. "Every Sunday night he,
+Schmitz and Big Jim Gallagher hold a caucus. Gallagher is Ruef's
+representative on the Board. They figure out what will occur at Monday's
+session of the Supervisors. It's all cut and dried."
+
+"It can't last long," Frank mused. "They're getting too much money.
+Those fellows who used to earn from $75 to $100 a month are spending
+five times that amount. Schmitz is building a palace. He rides around in
+his automobile with a liveried chauffeur. He's going to Europe
+they say."
+
+The girl glanced up at him half furtively. "Perhaps I'll go to Europe,
+too."
+
+"What?" Frank eyed her startled. "Not with--"
+
+"Yes, my friend, the Supervisor." Her tone was defiant. "Why shouldn't
+I?"
+
+"Don't--Aleta."
+
+"But, why not?"
+
+He was silent. But his eyes were on her, pleadingly.
+
+"Would you care, Frank? Would you care--at all?"
+
+"You know I would," he spoke half angrily. The girl traced patterns with
+her fork upon the table cloth.
+
+[Illustration: "I am going South," Francisco told his son. "I cannot
+bear this."]
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXII
+
+AT BAY
+
+On May 21, the United Railway Company received a franchise to electrize
+any of its street-car routes, "where grades permitted."
+
+At once ensued a public uproar. From the press, the pulpit and the
+rostrum issued fiery accusations that the city was betrayed. In the
+midst of it Mayor Schmitz departed for Europe.
+
+Frank met Ruef at the Ferry, where the former had gone to see Aleta off
+on a road tour with her company. The little boss was twisting his
+moustache and muttering to himself.
+
+"So His Honor's off on a lark," said the newsman, meaningly.
+
+Ruef glared at him, but made no answer.
+
+Afterward Frank heard that they had quarreled. Ruef, he learned, had
+charged the mayor with ingratitude; had threatened, pleaded,
+warned--without success.
+
+Schmitz had gone; his was the dogged determination which easily-led men
+sometimes manifest at unexpected moments. One heard of him through the
+press dispatches, staying at the best hotels of European capitals,
+making speeches when he had a chance. He was like a boy on a holiday.
+But at home Ruef sensed the stirring of an outraged mass and trembled.
+He could no longer control his minions. And, worst of all, he could not
+manage Langdon. "Big Jim" Gallagher, now the acting mayor, was docile to
+a fault, however. He would have put his hand into the fire for this
+clever little man, whom he admired so immensely. Once they discussed the
+ousting of Langdon.
+
+"It would be quite legal," Ruef contended. "The Mayor and Board have
+power to remove a district attorney and select his successor."
+
+Henry Ach, advisor of the boss, looked dubious. "I'm not sure of that.
+Moreover, it's bad politics. It would be better seemingly to cooperate
+with Langdon. He has the public confidence. We've not.... Besides, whom
+would we put in Langdon's place?"
+
+"Ruef," said "Big Jim," with his ready admiration. "He's the man."
+
+"Hm!" the little boss exclaimed, reflectively. "Well we shall see."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Frank liked Langdon. He was rather a slow-thinking man; not so clever at
+expedient as Ruef. But he was grounded in the Law--and honest. Moreover,
+he had courage. Powerful enemies and their machinations only stirred
+his zest.
+
+Single-handed Langdon might have been outwitted by the power and
+astuteness of his foes. But another mind, a keener one was soon to add
+its force to Langdon's. Francis J. Heney, special investigator of the
+Roosevelt government, who had unmasked and overthrown corruption in high
+places, was in town.
+
+Frank knew that he had come to San Francisco for a purpose. He met this
+nervous, wiry, sharp-eyed man in the managing editor's office now and
+again. Once he had entered rather unexpectedly upon a conference of
+Heney, former Mayor James D. Phelan, Rudolph Spreckels, son of the sugar
+nabob, and William J. Burns. Frank, who guessed he was intruding, made a
+noiseless exit; not, however, till he heard that there would be a
+thorough, secret search into the trolley franchise and some other
+actions of the Ruef administration. Spreckels and Phelan guaranteed to
+raise $100,000 for this purpose. Burns and his detectives had for
+several months been quietly at work.
+
+On October 24 District Attorney Langdon publicly announced the
+appointment of Francis J. Heney as his assistant, stating that a
+thorough and fearless search into the actions of the city government
+would ensue.
+
+On October 25 the Supervisors met. Frank, himself, went to the council
+chamber to learn what was afoot. He suspected a sensation. But the Board
+met quietly enough at 2:30 o'clock, with Jim Gallagher in the chair. At
+2:45 a special messenger called the acting Mayor to Ruef's office. Three
+hours later he was still absent from the angry and impatient Board.
+
+That some desperate move was imminent Frank realized. Here was Ruef
+between two bodeful dates. Yesterday had come the news that Langdon had
+appointed Heney--the relentless enemy of boodlers--to a place of power.
+Tomorrow would begin the impaneling of a Grand Jury, whose avowed
+purpose it was to "investigate municipal graft."
+
+"What would I do if I were Ruef?" Frank asked himself. But no answer
+came. He paced up and down the corridor, pondering the situation. At
+intervals he paused before the Supervisors' chamber. Once he found the
+door slightly ajar and listened shamelessly. He saw Big Jim Gallagher,
+red-faced, excited, apparently much flustered, reading a paper. He
+thought he heard Langdon's name and Heney's. There seemed to be
+dissension in the board. But before he learned anything definite a
+watchful attendant closed the portal with an angry slam. Frank resumed
+his pacing.
+
+Finally he went out for a bite to eat.
+
+Frank returned half an hour later to find the reporters' room in an
+uproar. Big Jim Gallagher had dismissed Langdon from office with the
+corroboration of the Board of Supervisors, as a provision of the city
+ordinance permitted him to do. Ruef had been appointed district
+attorney.
+
+Langdon's forces were not disconcerted by the little boss's coup. Late
+that evening Frank advised his paper of a counterstroke. Heney had
+aroused Judge Seawell from his slumbers and obtained an order of the
+court enjoining Ruef from actual assumption of the title he had
+arrogated to himself.
+
+Judge Graham upheld it. Langdon remained the district attorney. Though
+Ruef imposed every possible obstacle, the Grand Jury was impaneled,
+November 7, and began its work of investigation with such startling
+celerity that Ruef and Schmitz faced charges of extortion on five
+counts, a week later.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXIII
+
+IN THE TOILS
+
+Meanwhile Schmitz, who had but recently returned from Europe, became
+officially involved in the anti-Japanese agitation.
+
+"He's summoned East to see the President," said a Burns operative to
+Frank one morning as they met at Temple Israel. "Lucky devil, that big
+fellow! Here's the town at sixes and sevens about the 'little brown
+brother.' Doesn't want him with its white kids in the public schools.
+The Mikado stirs the devil of a row with Washington about it. And Teddy
+sends for 'Gene. Just his luck to come back a conquering hero."
+
+But Schmitz fared badly at the Capital, whence Roosevelt dispatched a
+"big stick" message to the California Legislature. At the same time
+George B. Keane, the Supervisors' clerk, and a State Senator as well,
+was working for the "Change of Venus bill," a measure which if passed,
+would have permitted Ruef to take his case out of the jurisdiction of
+Judge Dunne. But the bill was defeated. Once more Ruef's straining at
+the net of Justice had achieved no parting of the strands.
+
+On March 6 Stanley greeted Mayor Schmitz as he stepped from a train at
+Oakland Mole. Correspondents and reporters gathered round the tall,
+bearded figure. Schmitz looked tired, discouraged.
+
+Perfunctorily, uneasily, Schmitz answered the reporter's queries. He had
+done his level best for San Francisco. As for the charges pending
+against him, they would soon be disproved. No one had anything on him.
+All his acts were open to investigation.
+
+"Do you know that Ruef has skipped?" Frank asked.
+
+"Wh-a-a-t!" the Mayor set down his grip. He seemed struck all of a heap
+by the announcement.
+
+"Fact!" another newsman corroborated. "Abie's jumped his bond. He's the
+well-known 'fugitive from justice.'"
+
+Without a word the Mayor left them. He walked aboard the ferry boat
+alone. They saw him pacing back and forth across the forward deck, his
+long overcoat flapping in the wind, one hand holding the dark, soft hat
+down on his really magnificent head.
+
+"A ship without a rudder," said Frank. The others nodded.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Over the municipal administration was the shadow of Ruef's flight. The
+shepherd had deserted his flock. And the wolves of the law were howling.
+
+Frank was grateful to the Powers for this rushing pageant of political
+events. It gave him little chance to grieve. Now and then the tragedy of
+Bertha gripped him by the throat and shook him with its devastating
+loneliness. He found a certain solace in Aleta's company. She was always
+ready, glad to walk or dine with him. She knew his silences; she
+understood.
+
+But there were intervals of grief beyond all palliation; days when he
+worked blindly through a grist of tasks that seemed unreal. And at night
+he sought his room, to sit in darkness, suffering dumbly through the
+hours. Sometimes Dawn would find him thus.
+
+Robert Windham and his family had returned from the Hawaiian Islands.
+They had found a house in Berkeley; Windham opened offices on Fillmore
+street. Robert and his nephew visited occasionally a graveyard in the
+western part of town. The older man brought flowers and his tears fell
+frankly on a mound that was more recent than its neighbors. But Stanley
+did not join in these devotions.
+
+"She is not here," he said one day. "You know that, Uncle Robert."
+
+"She's up above," returned the other, brokenly. "My poor, wronged
+child!"
+
+Frank stared at him a moment. "Do you believe in the conventional
+Heaven?"
+
+"Why--er--yes," said Windham, startled. "Don't you, Frank?"
+
+"No," said Stanley, doggedly. "Not in that ... nor in a God that lets
+men suffer and be tempted into wrongs they can't resist ... makes them
+suffer for it."
+
+"What do you mean? Are you an atheist?" asked Windham, horrified.
+
+"No ... but I believe that God is Good. And knows no evil. Sometimes in
+the night when I've sat thinking, Bertha seems to come to me; tells me
+things I can't quite understand. Wonderful things, Uncle Robert."
+
+The other regarded him silently, curiously. He seemed at a loss.
+
+"I've learned to judge men with less harshness," Frank spoke on. "Ruef
+and Schmitz, for instance.... Every now and then I see the Mayor pacing
+on the ferryboat. It's rather pathetic, Uncle Robert. Did God raise him
+up from obscurity just to torture him? He's had wealth and
+honor--adoration from the people. Now he's facing prison. And those poor
+devils of Supervisors; they've known luxury, power. Now they're huddled
+like a pack of frightened sheep; everybody thinks they're guilty. Ruef's
+forsaken them. Ruef, with his big dream shattered, fleeing from
+the law...."
+
+He faced his uncle fiercely, questioning. "Is that God's work? And
+Bertha's body lying there, because of the sins of her forebears! Forgive
+me, Uncle Robert. I'm just thinking aloud."
+
+Windham placed a hand upon his nephew's shoulder. "I'm afraid I can't
+answer you, Frank," he said slowly. "You're a young man. You'll forget.
+The world goes on. And our griefs do not matter. We fall and we get up
+again ... just as Ruef and the others will."
+
+"Do you suppose they'll catch him--Ruef, I mean?"
+
+"Not if the big fellows can prevent it. If he's caught there'll be the
+deuce to pay. Our Pillars of Finance will topple.... No, I think Ruef
+is safe."
+
+"I don't quite understand," said Stanley.
+
+"Ruef, himself, is nothing; a political boss, a solicitor of bribes. But
+our corporation heads. The town will shake when they're accused, perhaps
+indicted. I know what's been going on. We're close to scandals that'll
+echo round the world."
+
+Frank looked at his uncle wonderingly. Windham was a corporation lawyer.
+Doubtless he knew. Silently the two men made their way out of the
+graveyard. Frank determined to ride down town with his uncle, and then
+telephone to Aleta. He hadn't seen her for a week.
+
+As the car passed the Call building they noted a crowd at Third and
+Market streets, reading a bulletin. People seemed excited. Frank jumped
+from the moving car and elbowed his way forward. In the newspaper window
+was a sheet of yellow paper inscribed in large script: "BURNS ARRESTS
+RUEF AT THE TROCADERO ROADHOUSE."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXXIV
+
+THE NET CLOSES
+
+Frank discussed the situation with Aleta one evening after Ruef's
+capture. Her friend, the Supervisor, had brought news of the alarm.
+
+"He says no one of them will trust the other; they're afraid of
+Gallagher; think he'll turn State's evidence, or whatever you call it.
+'Squeal,' was what he said."
+
+"Burns and Heney must be putting on the screws," commented Frank.
+
+"Frank," Aleta laid a hand impulsively upon his arm, "I don't suppose
+there's any way to save this man ... I--oh, Frank, it would be awful if
+he went to prison."
+
+He stared at her. "What do you mean, Aleta?"
+
+"I mean," she answered, "that he's done things for me ... because he
+loves me ... hopes to win me. He's sincere in that.... Oh, can't you see
+how it would hurt if--"
+
+"If he gets caught--stealing," Frank spoke harshly. "Well, you should
+have thought of that before, my dear."
+
+A touch of anger tinctured the appeal with which her eyes met his. "One
+doesn't always reason when the heart is sore. When one is bitter
+with--well--yearning."
+
+He did not answer. He was rather startled by that look. Finally she
+said, more gently: "Frank, you'll help him if you can--I know."
+He nodded.
+
+It was late. Aleta had to hurry to the theatre. Frank left her there and
+walked down Sutter street.
+
+He turned south toward Heney's office. It was in a little house between
+Geary and O'Farrell, up a short flight of stairs. Above were the living
+quarters of Heney and his companion, half clerk, half bodyguard.
+
+There was a light in the office, but the shades of the bay-window were
+tightly drawn. Frank rang the bell, which was not immediately answered.
+Finally the bodyguard came to the door. "Mr. Heney's very busy, very
+busy." He seemed tremendously excited.
+
+"Very well," said Frank; "I'll come tomorrow."
+
+"We'll have big news for you," the man announced. He shut the door
+hastily and double-locked it.
+
+Frank decided to remain in the neighborhood. He might learn something.
+The morning papers had been getting the best of it recently in the
+way of news.
+
+It proved a tiresome vigil. And the night was chilly. Frank began to
+walk briskly up and down the block. A dozen times he did this without
+result. Then the sudden rumble of a motor car spun him about. He saw two
+men hasten down the steps of Heney's office, almost leap into the car.
+Instantly it drove off. Frank, who followed to the corner, saw it
+traveling at high speed toward Fillmore street. He looked about for a
+motor cab in which to follow. There was none in sight. Reluctantly he
+turned toward home. He had been outwitted, doubtless by a watcher. But
+not completely. For he was morally certain that one of the men who left
+Heney's office was Big Jim Gallagher. That visit was significant. From
+his hotel Frank tried to locate the editor of his paper by telephone. He
+was not successful. He went to bed, disgusted, after leaving a
+daylight call.
+
+It was still dark when he dressed the next morning, the previous
+evening's events fresh in his thought.
+
+He had scarcely reached the street before a newsboy thrust a morning
+paper toward him. Frank saw that the upper half of the front page was
+covered with large black headlines. He snatched it, tossing the boy a
+"two-bit piece," and, without waiting or thinking of the change, became
+absorbed in the startling information it conveyed.
+
+Sixteen out of the eighteen Supervisors had confessed to taking bribes
+from half a dozen corporations. Wholesale indictments would follow, it
+was stated, involving the heads of public service companies--men of
+unlimited means, national influence. Many names were more than
+hinted at.
+
+Ruef, according to these confessions, had been the arch-plotter. He had
+received the funds that corrupted an entire city government. Gallagher
+had been the go-between, receiving a part of the "graft funds" to be
+divided among his fellow Supervisors.
+
+Each of the crooked sixteen had been guaranteed immunity from
+imprisonment in consideration of their testimony.
+
+"Well, that saves Aleta's friend, at any rate," thought Frank. He
+recalled his uncle's prediction that Ruef's capture would result in
+extraordinary revelations. But it had not been Ruef, after all, who
+"spilled the beans." Ruef might confess later. They would need his
+testimony to make the case complete.
+
+As a matter of fact, Ruef had already begun negotiations with Langdon
+and Heney looking toward a confession.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Grand Jury acted immediately upon the wholesale confessions of
+Ruef's Supervisors. They summoned before them the heads of many
+corporations, uncovering bribery so vast and open that they were
+astounded. They found that $200,000 had been paid for the trolley
+franchise and enormous sums for permits to raise gas rates, for
+telephone franchises, for prize-fight privileges and in connection with
+a realty transaction.
+
+The trolley bribe funds had been carried in a shirt box to Ruef by the
+company's attorney. Other transactions had been more or less "covered."
+But all were plain enough for instant recognition. San Francisco, which
+had suspected Ruef and his Supervisors with the easy tolerance of a
+people calloused to betrayal, was aroused by the insolent audacity of
+these transactions. It demanded blood.
+
+And Heney was prepared to furnish sanguine vengeance. He was after the
+"higher-ups," he stated. Like a passionate evangel of Mosaic law, he set
+out to secure it. Louis Glass, acting president of the telephone
+company, was indicted on a charge of felony, which made a great
+hallabaloo, for he was a personable man, a clubman, popular and
+generally esteemed.
+
+A subtle change--the primary index of that opposition which was to
+develop into a stupendous force--was noted by the prosecution. Heney and
+Langdon had been welcomed hitherto in San Francisco's fashionable clubs.
+Men of wealth and standing had been wont to greet them as they lunched
+there, commending their course, assuring them of cooperation.
+
+But after the telephone indictment there came a cooling of the
+atmosphere. Glass seemed more popular than ever. Langdon and Heney were
+often ignored. People failed to recognize them on the street. Even
+Spreckels and Phelan, despite their wealth and long established
+standing, suffered certain social ostracisms.
+
+Wealthy evildoers found themselves as definitely threatened by the law
+as were the Supervisors. But wealth is made of sterner stuff. It did not
+cringe nor huddle; could not seek immunity through the confessional.
+Famous lawyers found themselves in high demand. From New York, where he
+had fought a winning fight for Harry Thaw, came Delphin Delmas. T.C.
+Coogan, another famous pleader, entered the lists against Heney in
+defense of Glass.
+
+Meanwhile the drawing of jurors for Ruef's trial progressed, inexorably.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXV
+
+THE SEVEN PLAGUES
+
+Several weeks passed. Politics were in a hectic state, and people
+grumbled. Frank discussed the situation with his Uncle Robert. "Why
+don't they oust these grafters from office?" he asked.
+
+Windham smiled. "Because they daren't, Frank," he answered. "If the
+prosecution forced the Supervisors to resign, which would be easy
+enough, do you know what would happen?"
+
+"Why, they'd fill their posts with better men, of course."
+
+"Not so fast, my boy. The Mayor has the power to fill all vacancies due
+to resignations. Don't you see what would happen? Schmitz could select
+another board over whom the prosecution would hold no power. Then, if
+necessary, he'd resign and his new board would fill the Mayor's chair
+with some one whom Ruef or the Mayor could trust. Then the city
+government would once more be independent of the law."
+
+"Lord! What a tangle," Frank ruminated. "How will they straighten it
+out?"
+
+"Remove the Mayor--if they can convict him of felony."
+
+"Suppose they do. What then?"
+
+"The prosecution forces can then use their power over the
+boodlers--force them to appoint a Mayor who's to Langdon's liking.
+Afterward they'll force the Supervisors to resign and the new Mayor will
+put decent people in their stead."
+
+"Justice!" apostrophized Frank, "thy name is Red Tape!"
+
+Heney alone was to enter the lists against Delmas and Coogan in the
+trial of Louis Glass. The charge was bribing Supervisor Boxton to vote
+against the Home telephone franchise.
+
+Frank had seen Glass at the Press Club, apparently a sound and honest
+citizen. A little doubt crept into Frank's mind. If men like that could
+stoop to the bribing of Supervisors, what was American civilization
+coming to?
+
+He looked in at the Ruef trial to see if anything had happened. For the
+past two months there had been nothing but technical squabbles,
+interminable hitches and delays.
+
+Ruef was conferring with his attorneys. All at once he stepped forward,
+holding a paper in his hand. Tears were streaming down his face. He
+began to read in sobbing, broken accents.
+
+The crowd was so thick that Frank could not get close enough to hear
+Ruef's words. It seemed a confession or condonation. Scattered fragments
+reached Frank's ears. Then the judge's question, clearly heard, "What is
+your plea?"
+
+"Guilty!" Ruef returned.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ruef's confession served to widen the breach between Class and Mass. He
+implicated many corporation heads and social leaders in a sorry tangle
+of wrongdoing. Other situations added fuel to the flame of economic war.
+The strike of the telephone girls had popular support, a sympathy much
+strengthened by the charges of bribery pending against telephone
+officials.
+
+[Illustration: All at once he stepped forward.... Tears were streaming
+down his face. Then the judge's question, clearly heard, "What is your
+plea?" "Guilty!" Ruef returned.]
+
+Ten thousand ironworkers were on strike at a time when their service was
+imperative, for San Francisco was rebuilding feverishly. Capital made
+telling use of this to bolster its impaired position in the public mind.
+While "pot called kettle black," the city suffered. The visitation of
+some strange disease, which certain physicians hastened to classify
+as bubonic plague, very nearly brought the untold evils of a quarantine.
+A famous sanitarian from the East decided it was due to rats. He came
+and slew his hundred-thousands of the rodents. Meanwhile the malady had
+ceased. But there were other troubles.
+
+Fire had destroyed the deeds and titles stored in the Recorder's office,
+as well as other records. Great confusion came with property transfer
+and business contracts. But, worst of all, perhaps, was the street
+car strike.
+
+"It seems as though the Seven Plagues of Egypt were being repeated,"
+remarked Frank to his uncle as they lunched together. They had come to
+be rather good companions, with the memory of Bertha between them. For
+Frank, within the past twelve months, had passed through much
+illuminating experience.
+
+Robert Windham, too, was a changed man. He cared less for money. Frank
+knew that he had declined big fees to defend some of the "higher ups"
+against impending charges of the graft prosecution. Windham smiled as he
+answered Frank's comment about the Seven Plagues.
+
+"We'll come out of it with flying colors, my boy. A city is a great
+composite heart that keeps beating, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, but
+the healthy blood rules in the main; it conquers all passing
+distempers."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Market street was queer and unnatural without its rushing trolley cars.
+All sorts of horse-drawn vehicles rattled up and down, carrying
+passengers to and from the ferry. Many of the strikers were acting as
+Jehus of improvised stages. Autotrucks, too, were impressed into
+service. They rumbled along, criss-crossed with "circus seats,"
+always crowded.
+
+Frank made his way northward and east through the ruins. Here and there
+little shops had opened; eating houses for the army of rehabilitation.
+They seemed to Frank symbols of renewed life in the blackened waste,
+like tender, green shoots in a flame-ravaged forest. Sightseers were
+beginning to swarm through the burned district, seeking relics.
+
+A large touring car honked raucously almost in Frank's ear as he was
+crossing Sutter street, and he sprinted out of its lordly course,
+turning just in time to see the occupant of the back seat, a large man,
+rather handsome, in a hard, iron-willed way. He sat stiffly erect,
+unbending and aloof, with a kind of arrogance which just escaped being
+splendid. This was Patrick Calhoun, president of the United Railroads,
+who had sworn to break the Carmen's Union. It was said that Calhoun had
+sworn, though less loudly, to break the graft prosecution as well.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On Montgomery street several financial institutions were doing business
+in reclaimed ruins. One of these was the California Safe Deposit and
+Trust Company, which had made spectacular history of late. It was said
+that spiritualism entered into its affairs. Frank had been working on
+the story, which promised a sensation.
+
+As he neared the corner of California and Montgomery streets, where the
+crumbled bank walls had been transformed into a temporary habitation, he
+saw a crowd evidently pressing toward it. The bank doors were closed,
+though it was not yet three o'clock. Now and then people broke from the
+throng and wandered disconsolately away. One of these, a gray-haired
+woman, came in Frank's direction. He asked her what was wrong.
+
+"They're busted ... and they've got me money," she wailed.
+
+Hastily Frank verified her statement. Then he hurried to the office,
+found his notes and for an hour wrote steadily, absorbedly a spectacular
+tale of superstition, extravagance and financial chaos. As he turned in
+his copy the editor handed him a slip of paper on which was written:
+"Call Aleta Boice at once." He sought a telephone, but there was no
+response. He tried again, but vainly. A third attempt, however, and
+Aleta's voice, half frantic, answered his.
+
+"He's killed himself," she cried. "Oh, Frank, I don't know what to do."
+
+"He? Who?" Frank asked startled.
+
+"Frank, you know! The man who wanted me to--"
+
+"Do you mean the Supervisor?"
+
+"Yes.... They say it was an accident. But I know better. He lost his
+money in the safe deposit failure.... Oh, Frank, please come to
+me, quick."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXVI
+
+A NEW CITY GOVERNMENT
+
+Frank found Aleta, dry-eyed, frantic, pacing up and down her little
+sitting room which always looked so quaintly attractive with its jumble
+of paintings and bric-a-brac, its distinctive furniture and
+draperies--all symbolic of the helter-skelter artistry which was a part
+of Aleta's nature. She took Frank's hand and clung to it.
+
+"I'm so glad you've come," she whispered. "I'm so glad you've come."
+
+It was a little time ere she could tell him of the tragedy. The man had
+been run over, quickly killed. Witnesses had seen him stagger, fall
+directly in the path of an advancing car. A doctor called it apoplexy.
+
+"But I know better," sobbed Aleta, for the tears had come by now. "He
+never was sick in his life. He thought he'd lost me when the money went
+... his money in the California Safe Deposit Company."
+
+Frank took a seat beside her on the couch, whose flaming, joyous colors
+seemed a mockery just then. "Aleta," he said, "I wish I could help you.
+I wish I knew how, but I don't."
+
+She lifted her tear-stained eyes to his with a curious bitterness. "No
+... you don't. But thank you. Just your coming's helped me, Frank. I'm
+better. Go--and let me think things over." She tried to smile, but the
+tears came.
+
+"Life's a hideous puzzle. Perhaps if I'd gone with him, all would have
+come right.... I'd have made him happy."
+
+"But what about yourself?"
+
+Again that bitter, enigmatic look came to her eyes. "I guess ... that
+doesn't matter, Frank."
+
+He left her, a queer ache in his heart. Was she right about the man's
+committing suicide. Poor devil! He had stolen for a woman. Others had
+filched his plunder. Then God had taken his misguided life.
+
+But had He? Was God a murderer? A passive conniver at theft? No, that
+were blasphemy! Yet, if He _permitted_ such things--? No, that couldn't
+be, either. It was all an abominable enigma, as Aleta said. Unless--the
+thought came startlingly--it were all a dream, a nightmare. Thus Kant,
+the great philosopher, believed. Obsessed by the idea, he paused before
+a book-store. Its show window prominently displayed Francisco Stanley's
+latest novel.
+
+Frank missed the mellow wisdom of his father's counsel seriously. He
+entered the shop, found a volume of Kant and scanned it for some moments
+till he read:
+
+"This world's life is only an appearance, a sensuous image of the pure
+spiritual life, and the whole of Sense is only a picture swimming before
+our present knowing faculty like a dream and having no reality
+in itself."
+
+Acting upon a strange impulse, he bought the book, marked the passage
+and ordered it sent to Aleta.
+
+A week after Ruef's confession the trial of Mayor Schmitz began. It
+dragged through the usual delays which clever lawyers can exact by legal
+technicality. Judge Dunne, sitting in the auditorium of the Bush Street
+synagogue, between the six-tinned ceremonial candlesticks and in front
+of the Mosiac tablets of Hebraic law, dispensed modern justice.
+
+Meanwhile the Committee of Seven sprang suddenly into being. A morning
+paper announced that Schmitz had handed the reins of the city over to a
+septette of prominent citizens. Governor Gillette lauded this action.
+But Rudolph Spreckels disowned the Committee. Langdon and Heney were
+suspicious of its purpose. So the Committee of Seven resigned.
+
+At this juncture the Schmitz trial ended in conviction of the Mayor
+which was tantamount to his removal from office. It left a vacancy
+which, nominally, the Supervisors had the power to fill. But they were
+under Langdon's orders. Actually, therefore, the District Attorney found
+himself confronted by the task of naming a new mayor.
+
+Unexpectedly the man was found in Edward Robeson Taylor, doctor of
+medicine and law, poet and Greek scholar. The selection was hailed with
+relief. Frank hastened to the Taylor home, a trim, white dwelling on
+California street near Webster. He found a genial, curly-haired old
+gentleman sitting in a room about whose walls were thousands of books.
+He was reading Epictetus.
+
+Stanley found the new mayor likeable and friendly. He seemed a man of
+simple thought. Frank wondered how he would endure the roiling passions
+of this city's politics. Dr. Taylor seemed undaunted by the
+prospect, though.
+
+Without delay he was elected by the Supervisors. Then began the farcical
+procedure of their resignations. One by one the new chief named good
+citizens as their successors.
+
+But the real fight was now beginning. Halsey's testimony had not
+incriminated Glass beyond a peradventure. There remained a shade of
+doubt that he had authorized the outlay of a certain fund for the
+purposes of bribery. The jury disagreed. The Prosecution's first battle
+against the "higher-ups" had brought no victory.
+
+Ruef was failing Heney as a witness for the people. After months of
+bargaining the special prosecutor withdrew his tacit offer of immunity.
+Heney's patience with the wily little Boss, who knew no end of legal
+subterfuge, was suddenly exhausted. Frank heard that Ruef was to be
+tried on one of the three hundred odd indictments found against him.
+Schmitz had been sentenced to five years in San Quentin. He
+had appealed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Several times Frank tried to reach Aleta on the telephone. But she did
+not respond to calls, a fact which he attributed to disorganized
+service. But presently there came a letter from Camp Curry in the
+Yosemite Valley.
+
+"I am here among the everlasting pines and cliffs," she wrote, "thinking
+it all out. I thank you for the book, which has helped me. If only we
+might waken from our 'dream'! But here one is nearer to God. It is very
+quiet and the birds sing always in the golden sunshine.
+
+"I shall come back saner, happier, to face the world.... Perhaps I can
+forget myself in service, I think I shall try settlement work.
+
+"Meanwhile I am trying not to think of what has happened ... what can
+never happen. I am reading and painting. Yesterday a dog came up and
+licked my hand. I cried a little after that, I don't know why."
+
+In his room that evening, Frank re-read the letter. It brought a lump to
+his throat.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXVII
+
+NORAH FINDS OUT
+
+Very soon after the appointment of Mayor Taylor, the second trial of
+Louis Glass ended in his conviction. He was remanded to the county jail
+awaiting an appeal. The trial of an official of the United Railways
+began. Meanwhile the politicians rallied for election.
+
+Schmitz had been elected at the end of 1905. His term, which Dr. Taylor
+was completing, would be terminated with the closing of the present
+year. And now the Graft Prosecution was to learn by public vote how many
+of the people stood behind it.
+
+Union Labor, ousted and discredited by venal representatives, was not
+officially in favor of the Taylor-Langdon slate. P.H. McCarthy, labor
+leader and head of the Building Trades Council, was Labor's nominee
+for Mayor.
+
+Frank met McCarthy now and then. He posed as "a plain, blunt man," but
+back of the forthright handgrip, the bluff directness of manner, Frank
+scented a massive and wily self-interest. He respected the man for his
+power, his crude but undeniable executive talents.
+
+The two opponents for the Mayoralty were keenly contrasted. Taylor was
+quiet, suavely cultured, widely read but rather passive. Some said he
+lacked initiative.
+
+Frank MacGowan was Langdon's foeman in the struggle for the district
+attorneyship. Little could be said for or against him. A lawyer of good
+reputation who had made his way upward by merit and push, he had done
+nothing big. He was charged with no wrong.
+
+The "dark horse" was Daniel Ryan.
+
+Ryan was a young Irishman, that fine type of political leader who
+approximates what has sometimes been called a practical idealist. He had
+set out to reform the Republican Party and achieved a certain measure of
+success, for he had beaten the Herrin or Railroad forces at the
+Republican Convention. Ryan was avowedly pro-prosecution. It was
+believed that he would deliver his party's nomination to Taylor
+and Langdon.
+
+But he astonished San Francisco voters by becoming a candidate for
+mayor.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Aleta had returned from Camp Curry. There was a certain quiet in her
+eyes, a greater self-control, a better facing of Life's problems. They
+spoke of Kant and his philosophy. "The Nightmare is less turbulent,"
+she said.
+
+One evening at her apartment Frank met a young woman named France, a
+fragile, fine-haired, dreamy sort of girl, and he was not surprised to
+learn that she wrote poetry.
+
+"Norah's been working as a telephone operator," explained Aleta. "She's
+written a story about it--the working girl's wrongs.... Oh, not the
+ordinary wail-and-whine," she added hastily. "It's real meat. I've read
+it. The Saturday Magazine's considering it."
+
+Miss France smiled deprecatingly. "I have high hopes," she said. "I need
+the money."
+
+"It will give you prestige, too," Frank told her, but she shook her
+head.
+
+"Norah hasn't signed her name to it," Aleta disapproved. "Just because a
+friend, a well known writer in Carmel, has fixed it up for her
+a little."
+
+"It doesn't seem like mine," the girl remarked. Aleta rose. "This is
+election night," she said; "let's go down and watch the returns."
+
+They did this, standing on the fringe of a crowd that thronged about the
+newspaper offices, watching, eager, but patient, the figures which were
+flashed on a screen.
+
+The crowd was less demonstrative than is usual on such occasions. A
+feeling of anxiety prevailed, a consciousness of vital issues endangered
+and put to the test. Toward midnight the crowd grew thicker. But it was
+more joyous now. Taylor and Langdon were leading. It became evident that
+they must win.
+
+Suddenly the restless stillness of the throng was broken by spontaneous
+cheering. It was impressive, overwhelming, like a great burst of
+relieved emotion.
+
+Norah France caught Frank's arm as the celebrants eddied round them. The
+press was disbanding with an almost violent haste. "Where's Aleta?"
+asked the girl.
+
+Frank searched amid the human eddies, but in vain. "She got separated
+from us somehow," he said rather helplessly. They searched farther,
+without result. Aleta doubtless had gone home.
+
+"I wonder if you'd take me somewhere ... for a cup of coffee," said Miss
+France. The hand upon his arm grew heavy. "I'm a little faint."
+
+"Surely." He suggested a popular cafe, but she shook her head. "Just
+some quiet little place ... a 'chop house.' That's what the switch-girls
+call them."
+
+So they entered a pair of swinging doors inscribed "Ladies" on one side
+and "Gents" on the other. Miss France laughingly insisted that they pass
+each on the proper side of this divided portal. She was a creature of
+swift moods; one moment feverishly gay, the next brooding, with a
+penchant for satire. He wondered how she endured the hard work of a
+telephone switch-operator. But one felt that whatever she willed she
+would do. Eagerly she sipped her steaming coffee from a heavy crockery
+cup, nibbling at a bit of French bread. Then she said to him so suddenly
+that he almost sprang out of his chair.
+
+"Do you know that Aleta Boice loves you?"
+
+He looked at her annoyed and disturbed by the question.
+
+"No, I don't," he answered slowly. "Nor do I understand just what
+you're driving at, Miss France."
+
+"If you'll forgive me," her eyes were upon him, "I am driving at
+masculine obtuseness ... and Aleta's happiness."
+
+"Then you're wasting your time," he spoke sharply. "Aleta loves
+another.... She's told me so."
+
+"Did she tell you his name?"
+
+"No, some prig of a professor, probably.... Thinks he's 'not her kind.'"
+
+"Yes ... let's have another cup of coffee. Yes, Aleta told me that."
+
+Frank signalled to the waiter. "She's anybody's kind," he said,
+forcibly.
+
+"But not yours, Mr. Stanley."
+
+"Mine? Why not?"
+
+"Because you don't love her." Norah's tone was sad, half bitter. "Will
+you forgive me? I'm sorry I provoked you.... But I had to know....
+Aleta's such a dear. She's been so good to me."
+
+The Christmas holidays brought handsome stock displays to all the
+stores. San Francisco was still flush with insurance money but there was
+a pinch of poverty in certain quarters. The Refugee Camps had been
+cleared, public parks and squares restored to their normal state.
+
+Langdon and Heney worked on. Another jury brought a verdict of "not
+guilty" at the second trial of a trolley-bribe defendant. Some of the
+newspapers had changed by almost imperceptible degrees, were veering
+toward the cause of the defense.
+
+Then, like a thunderbolt, in January, 1908, came news that the Appellate
+Court had set aside the conviction of Ruef and Schmitz. Technical errors
+were assigned as the cause of this decision. The people gasped. But some
+of the newspapers defended the Appellate Judges' decree.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXVIII
+
+THE SHOOTING OF HENEY
+
+Heney and Langdon, who had had, perhaps, some inkling of an adverse
+decision, went grimly on. Enemies of Prosecution, backed by an enormous
+fund, were setting innumerable obstacles in their way. Witnesses
+disappeared or changed their testimony. Jurors showed evidence of having
+been tampered with. Through a subsidized press an active propaganda of
+Innuendo and Slander was begun.
+
+Calhoun's trial still loomed vaguely in the distance. Heney, overworked
+and harassed in a multitude of ways--keyed to a battle with ruffians,
+gun-men and shysters as well as the ablest exponents of law, developed a
+nervousness of manner, a bitterness of mind which sometimes led him
+to extremes.
+
+"He isn't sleeping well," his faithful bodyguard confided to Frank one
+afternoon when they met on Van Ness avenue. "He comes down in the
+morning trying to smile but I know he feels as though he'd like to bite
+my head off. I can see it in his eyes. He needs a rest."
+
+"Mr. Calhoun evidently thinks so, too," retorted Stanley. "The Honorable
+Pat is trying to retire him."
+
+"He'll never succeed," said the other explosively. "Frank Heney's not
+that kind. He'll fight on till he drops.... But I hate to see those
+boughten lawyers ragging him in court."
+
+Langdon, more phlegmatic of temperament, stood the gaff with less
+apparent friction. Hiram Johnson gave aid now and then which was always
+of value. There was a dauntless quality about the man, a rugged
+double-fisted force which made him feared by his opponents.
+
+Frank Stanley looked in at the second Ruef trial. He found it a
+kaleidoscope of dramatic and tragic events. Heney, who had been the
+target for a volley of insinuations from Ruef's attorneys, was nervous
+and distraught. Several times he had been goaded into altercation; had
+struck back with a bitterness that showed his mounting anger. Stanley
+noted that he was "on edge," and rather looked for "fireworks," as the
+reporters called these verbal duels of the Prosecution trials. But he
+was astonished to see Heney turn upon an unoffending juryman in sudden
+fury. The man had a fat, good-natured Teuton face with small eyes and a
+heavy manner. His name was Morris Haas. He had asked to be excused but
+the judge had not granted his plea.
+
+Now he seemed to cower in exaggerated fright before the Prosecutor's
+pointed finger. A little hush ensued. A tense dramatic pause. Then Heney
+branded Haas before the court-room as a former convict.
+
+The man broke down utterly. Many years before he had served a short term
+in prison. After his release he had married, raised a family, "lived a
+respectable life," as he pleaded in hysterical extenuation. He kept a
+grocery store.
+
+Haas stumbled from the court-room and Frank followed him. He could not
+help but feel a certain pity for the poor wretch, wailing brokenly that
+he was "ruined." He could never face his friends again. His customers
+would leave him. Frank learned the details of his ancient crime; he also
+ascertained that Haas had lived rightly since. The incident rankled. He
+wrote a guarded story of the affair. But he did not mention one episode
+of Haas' exposure. As the man staggered out Frank had heard another
+whisper sympathetically, "I would kill the man who did that to me."
+
+Justice often has its cruel, relentless aspects. Haas, with his weak,
+heavy face, stayed in Stanley's memory. An ordinary man might have tried
+again and won. But Haas was drunken with self-pity and the melancholy of
+his race. He would brood and suffer. Frank felt sorry for the man, and,
+somehow, vaguely apprehensive.
+
+Ruef's trial ended in a disagreement of the jury. It was a serious blow.
+Most of the San Francisco papers heaped abuse upon the Prosecution, its
+attorneys and its judges.
+
+Matters dragged along until the 13th of November. Gallagher was on the
+witness stand. He testified with the listlessness of many repetitions to
+the sordid facts of San Francisco's betrayal by venal public servants.
+It was all more or less perfunctory. Everyone had heard the tale from
+one to half a dozen times.
+
+Heney was at the attorneys' table talking animatedly with an assistant.
+The jury had left the room and Gallagher stepped down from the stand to
+have a word with the prosecutor. A few feet away was Heney's bodyguard
+lolling, plainly bored by the testimony. There was the usual buzz of
+talk which marks a lull in court proceedings.
+
+Into this scene came with covert tread a wild, dramatic figure. No one
+noted his approach. Morris Haas, glittering of eye, dishevelled, mad
+with loss of sleep and brooding, had crept into the court-room unheeded.
+He approached the attorneys' table stealthily.
+
+All at once Frank saw him standing within a foot of Heney. Something
+glittered in his outstretched hand. Frank shouted, but his warning lost
+itself in a wild cry of revengeful accusation. There was a sharp report;
+smoke rose. An acrid smell of exploded powder hung upon the air. Heney,
+with a cry, fell backward. Blood spurted from his neck.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Once more the city was afire with men's passions. Haas was rushed to the
+county jail and Heney to a hospital, where it was found, amid great
+popular rejoicing, that the wound was not a fatal one. Had it been
+otherwise no human power could have protected Haas from lynching.
+
+A great mass meeting was held. Langdon, Phelan, Mayor Taylor pleaded for
+order. "Let us see to it," said the last, "that no matter who else
+breaks the law, we shall uphold it." This became the keynote of the
+meeting. Rudolph Spreckels, who arrived late, was greeted with
+tumultuous cheering.
+
+Frank and Aleta were impressed by the spontaneity of the huge popular
+turnout. "It means," said the girl, as they made their exit, "that San
+Francisco is again aroused to its danger. What a great, good natured,
+easy-going body of men and women this town is! We feed on novelty and
+are easily wearied. That's why so many have back-slid who were strong
+for the Prosecution at first."
+
+"Yes, you're right," answered Frank. "We alternate between spasms of
+Virtue and comfortable inertias of Don't-care-a-Damn! That's San
+Francisco!"
+
+"The Good Gray City," he added after a little silence. "We love it in
+spite of its faults and upheavals, don't we, Aleta?"
+
+"Perhaps because of them." She squeezed his arm. For a time they walked
+on without speaking. "How is your settlement work progressing?" he asked
+at length.
+
+But she did not answer, for a shrieking newsie thrust a paper in her
+hand. "Buy an extra, lady," he importuned her. "All about Morris
+Haas' suicide!"
+
+She tossed him a coin and he rushed off, shrilling his tragic
+revelation. Huge black headlines announced that Heney's assailant had
+shot himself to death in his cell.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXIX
+
+DEFEAT OF THE PROSECUTION
+
+While Heney lay upon the operating table of a San Francisco hospital,
+three prominent attorneys volunteered to take his place. They were Hiram
+Johnson, Matt I. Sullivan and J.J. Dwyer. Ruef's trial went on with
+renewed vigor three days after the attempted killing, though the
+defendant's attorneys exhausted every expedient for delay. It was a case
+so thorough and complete that nothing could save the prisoner. He was
+found guilty of bribing a Supervisor in the overhead trolley transaction
+and sentenced to serve fourteen years in San Quentin penitentiary.
+
+Frank was in the court-room when Ruef's sentence was imposed. The Little
+Boss seemed oddly aged and nerveless; the old look of power was gone
+from his eyes. Frank recalled Ruef's plan of a political Utopia. The man
+had started with a golden dream, a genius for organization which might
+have achieved great things. But his lower self had conquered. He had
+sold his dream for gold. And retribution was upon him.
+
+Frank thought of Patrick Calhoun, large, blustering, arrogant with the
+pride of an old Southern family; the power of limitless wealth between
+him and punishment; a masterful figure who had broken a labor union and
+who scoffed at Law. And Eugene Schmitz, once happy as a fiddler. Schmitz
+was trying to face it out in the community. Frank could not tell if that
+was courage or a sort of impudence.
+
+During the holidays Frank visited his parents in San Diego. His
+granduncle, Benito Windham, had died abroad. And his mother was ailing.
+Frank and his father discussed the Prosecution.
+
+"It has had its day," the elder Stanley said. "Your public is listless,
+sick of the whole rotten mess. They've lost the moral perspective. All
+they want is to have it over."
+
+"I guess I feel the same way." Frank's eyes were downcast.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Sometimes Frank met Norah France at Aleta's apartment, but she carefully
+avoided further mention of the topic they had talked of on election
+night. Frank liked her poetry. With a spirit less morbid she would have
+made a name for herself he thought.
+
+Aleta was doing more and more settlement work. She had been playing
+second lead at the theater and had had a New York offer. Frank could not
+understand why she refused it. But Norah did, though she kept the secret
+from Frank.
+
+"Do you know how many talesmen have been called in the Calhoun trial?"
+Aleta asked, looking up from the newspaper. "There were nearly 1500 in
+the Ruef case. They called that a record." She laughed.
+
+"Of course Pat Calhoun would wish to outdo Abe Ruef," said Frank.
+"That's only to be expected. He's had close to 2500, I reckon."
+
+"Not quite," Aleta referred to the printed sheet. "Your paper says 2370
+veniremen were called into court. That's what money can do. If he'd been
+some poor devil charged with stealing a bottle of milk from the
+doorstep, how long would it take to convict him?"
+
+"It's a rotten world," the other girl spoke with a sudden gust of
+bitterness. "A world without honor or justice."
+
+"Or a nightmare," said Frank, with a glance at Aleta.
+
+"Well, if it is, I'm going to wake up soon--in one way or another," said
+Norah. "I will promise you that." To Frank the words seemed ominous. He
+left soon afterward.
+
+The Calhoun trial dragged interminably. Heney, not entirely recovered
+from his wound, but back in court, faced a battery of the country's
+highest priced attorneys. There were A.A. and Stanley Moore, Alexander
+King, who was Calhoun's law partner in the South; Lewis F. Byington, a
+former district attorney; J.J. Barrett, Earl Rogers, a sensationally
+successful criminal defender from Los Angeles, and Garret McEnerney.
+Heney had but one assistant, John O'Gara, a deputy in Langdon's office.
+
+For five long months the Prosecution fought such odds. Heney lost his
+temper frequently in court. He was on the verge of a nerve prostration.
+Anti-prosecution papers hinted that his faculties were failing. Langdon
+more or less withdrew from the fight. He was tired of it; had declined
+to be a candidate for the district attorneyship in the Fall. Heney was
+the Prosecution's only hope. He consented to run; which added to his
+legal labors the additional tasks of preparing for a campaign.
+
+It was not to be wondered at that Heney failed to convict Calhoun. The
+jury disagreed after many ballots. A new trial was set. But before a
+jury was empanelled the November ballot gave the Prosecution its "coup
+de grace."
+
+P.H. McCarthy was elected Mayor. Charles Fickert defeated Heney for the
+district attorneyship. An anti-Prosecution government took office.
+
+"Big Jim" Gallagher, the Prosecution's leading witness, disappeared.
+
+Fickert sought dismissal of the Calhoun case and finally obtained it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+San Francisco heaved a sigh of relief and turned its attention toward
+another problem. Its people planned a great world exposition to
+celebrate the opening of the Panama Canal.
+
+With the close of the Graft trials, San Francisco put its shoulders in
+concerted effort to the wheel. There were rivals now. San Diego claimed
+a prior plan. New Orleans was importuning Congress to support it in an
+Exposition. The Southern city sent its lobbying delegation to the
+Capitol. San Francisco seemed about to lose.
+
+But the city was aroused to one of its outbursts of pioneer energy. The
+Panama-Pacific International Exposition Company was organized. A meeting
+was called at the Merchants' Exchange. There, in two hours, $4,000,000
+was subscribed by local merchants.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XC
+
+THE MEASURE OF REDEMPTION
+
+Frank journeyed East with a party of "Exposition Boosters" after the
+memorable meeting in the Merchants' Exchange. The import of that
+afternoon's work had been flashed around the world. It swung the tide of
+public sentiment from New Orleans toward the Western Coast. Congress
+heard the clink of Power in those millions. President Taft discerned a
+spirit of efficiency that would guarantee success. He did not desire
+another Jamestown fiasco. He had an open admiration for the city which
+in four years could rebuild itself from ashes, suffer staunchly through
+disrupting ordeals of political upheaval and unite its forces in a
+mighty plan to entertain the World.
+
+Frank went to the White House for an interview. He clasped the large,
+firm hand which had guided so many troubled ships of state for the
+Roosevelt regime, looked into the twinkling eyes that hid so keen a
+force behind their kindness. Stanley soon discovered that in this big,
+bluff President his city had a friend.
+
+"What shall I say to the people at home for you, Mr. President? Will you
+give me a message?"
+
+The Chief Executive was thoughtful for an instant. Then he said, "Go
+back, my boy, and tell them this from me, 'SAN FRANCISCO KNOWS HOW!'"
+
+Frank left the White House, eager and enthusiastic; sought a telegraph
+office. On the following day Market street blazed with the slogan.
+
+In New York, where he went from Washington, Frank heard echoes of that
+speech. San Francisco's cause gained new and sudden favor. Frank found
+the Eastern press, which hitherto had favored New Orleans, was veering
+almost imperceptibly toward the Golden Gate.
+
+He met many San Franciscans in New York. John O'Hara Cosgrave was
+editing Everybody's Magazine, "Bob" Davis was at the head of the Munsey
+publications, Edwin Markham wrote world-poetry on Staten Island, "in a
+big house filled with books and mosquitoes," as a friend described it.
+"Bill" and Wallace Irwin were there, the former "batching" in a flat on
+Washington Square. All of them were glad to talk of San Francisco.
+
+Charley Aiken, editor of Sunset Magazine, was with the boosters. Stanley
+met him in New York. He had a plan for buying the publication from its
+railroad sponsors; making it an independent organ of the literary West.
+Things were looking up for San Francisco.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Frank was glad to get back. He had enjoyed his visit to the East. But it
+was mighty good to ride up Market street again. It looked quite as it
+did before the fire. One would have found it difficult to believe that
+this new city with its towering, handsome architecture, had lain, a few
+years back, the shambles of the greatest conflagration history
+has known.
+
+On Christmas eve Frank and Aleta went down town to hear Tetrazzini sing
+in the streets. The famous prima donna faced an audience which numbered
+upward of a hundred thousand. They thronged--a joyous celebrant, dark
+mass--on Market, Geary, Third and Kearny streets. Every window was
+ablaze, alive with silhouetted figures. Frank, who had engaged a window
+in the Monadnock Block, could not get near the entrance. So he and Aleta
+stood in the street.
+
+"It's nicer," she whispered happily, "to be here among the people.... I
+feel closer to them. As if I could sense the big Pulse of Life that
+makes us all brothers and sisters."
+
+Frank looked down at her understandingly, but did not speak. Tetrazzini
+had begun her song. Its first notes floated faintly through the vast and
+unwalled auditorium. Then her voice grew clearer, surer.
+
+Never had those bustling, noisy streets known such a stillness as
+prevailed this night. The pure soprano which had thrilled a world of
+high-priced audiences rang out in a wondrous clarion harmony. It moved
+many people to tears. The response was overwhelming. Something in that
+vast human pack went out to the singer like a tidal wave. Not the
+deafening fusilade of hand-clapping nor the shouted "Bravos!" It was
+something deeper, subtler. Tetrazzini stepped forward. Tears streamed
+from her eyes. She blew impulsive kisses to the crowd.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The pageant of the months went on. A coal merchant by the name of Rolph
+had displaced P.H. McCarthy as Mayor of San Francisco. He had installed
+what was termed "a business administration." San Francisco seemed
+pleased with the result. Power of government had returned to the "North
+of Market Street."
+
+San Francisco had been selected by Congress as the site of the
+exposition. It was scheduled for 1915 and the Panama Canal approached
+completion.
+
+Frank was living with his father at the Press Club. His mother was dead.
+He had given up newspaper work, except for an occasional editorial.
+Through his father's influence he had found publication for a novel. He
+was something of a public man now, despite his comparative youth.
+
+Occasionally he saw his Uncle Robert. Two of his cousins had married.
+The third, an engineer, had gone to Colorado. Robert Windham and his
+wife were planning a year of travel.
+
+Sometimes Windham and his nephew talked of Bertha. It was a calmer, more
+dispassionate talk as time went on, for years blunt every pain. One day
+the former said, with tentative defiance, "I suppose you'll think
+there's something wrong about me, boy.... But I loved her mother deeply.
+Honestly--if one can call it that. If I'd had a certain kind of--well,
+immoral--courage, I'd have married her.... Just think how different all
+our lives would have been. But I hadn't the heart to hurt Maizie; to
+break with her ... nor the courage to give up my position in life. So we
+parted. I didn't know then--"
+
+"That you had a daughter?" questioned Frank. His uncle nodded. "Perhaps
+it would have made a difference ... perhaps not."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Aleta had a week's vacation. They were playing a comedy in which she had
+no part. So she had gone to Carmel to visit her friend Norah France.
+
+Frank decided to look in on them. He had been oddly shaken by the talk
+with his uncle. What tragedies men hid beneath the smooth exteriors of
+successful careers? He had always thought his uncle's home a happy one.
+Doubtless it was--happy enough. Love perhaps was not essential to
+successful unions. Frank wondered why he had not asked Aleta Boice to be
+his wife. They were good comrades, had congenial tastes. They would both
+be better off; less lonely. A sudden, long-forgotten feeling stirred
+within his heart. He had missed Aleta in the past few days. Why not go
+to her now; lay the question before her? Perhaps love might come to
+them both.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XCI
+
+CONCLUSION
+
+For years thereafter Frank was haunted by the wraiths of vain
+conjecture--morbid questionings of what might have occurred if he had
+caught the train for Monterey that afternoon. For he was not to seek
+Aleta at Carmel. An official of the Exposition Company met Frank on the
+street. They talked a shade too long. Frank missed the train by half a
+minute. He shrugged his shoulders petulantly, found his father at the
+club. That evening they attended a comedy.
+
+He was not yet out of bed when the office telephoned him the next
+morning. "Didn't he know Norah France rather well?" the City Editor
+inquired. Frank admitted it sleepily.
+
+Had he a picture of her?
+
+Frank denied this. No. He didn't know where one might be obtained. Had
+Norah printed a poem or something? W-h-a-a-t!
+
+The voice at the telephone repeated its message. "Norah France was found
+dead in her room at Carmel this morning. Suicide probably. Empty vial
+and a letter.... The Carmel authorities haven't come through yet."
+
+Frank began to dress hurriedly. Again the telephone rang. Wire for him.
+Should they send it up? No, he would be down in a minute.
+
+The telegram was from Aleta. It read: "Am returning noon train. See you
+at my apartment six P.M."
+
+Stanley did not see his father in the dining room. He gulped a cup of
+coffee and went down to the office. He had planned an editorial for
+today. But his mind was full of Norah France just now.
+
+Poor child! How she had loved life in her strangely vivid moods! And how
+she had brooded upon its injustice in her alternating tempers of
+depression! He remembered now Aleta's mention of a love affair that
+turned out badly. Aleta had gone down to hearten her friend from these
+dolors. And he recalled, with a desperate, tearing remorse, a
+casual-enough remark of Norah's: "You always cheer me up, Frank, when
+you come to see me."
+
+He recalled, as well, her comment, months before, that she would awake
+from her dream in one way or another. Well, she had fulfilled her
+promise. God grant, he thought passionately, that the awakening had been
+in a happier world.
+
+At six o'clock he went to Aleta's apartment. She had not yet arrived but
+presently she came. He saw that she had been crying. She could
+scarcely speak.
+
+"Frank, let us walk somewhere," she said. "I can't go upstairs; it's too
+full of memories. And I can't sit still. I've got to keep moving--fast."
+
+They strode off together, taking a favorite walk through the Presidio
+toward the Beach. From a hill-top they saw the Exposition buildings
+rising from what once had been a slough.
+
+Aleta paused and looked down.
+
+"It's easier to bear--up here," she spoke in an odd, weary monotone, as
+if she were thinking aloud. "This morning ... I think, if Norah had left
+anything in the bottle ... I'd have taken it, too."
+
+"Why did she do it?" Frank asked quickly.
+
+Aleta faced him. "Norah loved a man ... he wasn't worthy. She could see
+no hope. I wished, Frank, that you might have been there yesterday. You
+used to cheer her so!"
+
+"Don't!" he cried out sharply.
+
+The Exposition progressed marvelously. Often Frank and Aleta climbed
+the winding Presidio ascent and gazed upon its growing wonders.
+
+"Beauty will come out of it all," she said one day. "Out of our travail
+and sorrow and sin. I wish that Norah was here. She loved beauty so!"
+
+"Perhaps she is here.... Who knows?"
+
+She looked at him startled. He was staring off across the Exposition
+site, toward the Golden Gate, where a great ship, all its sails spread,
+swam mysteriously luminous with the sunset.
+
+"It's beautiful," he said, a catch in his voice. "It's like life ...
+coming home in the end ... after long strivings with tempest and wave. I
+wonder--" he turned to her slowly, "Aleta, will it be like that
+with us?"
+
+"Home!" she spoke the word tenderly. "I wonder what it's like ... I've
+never known."
+
+He drew his breath sharply. "Aleta--will you marry me?"
+
+Her eyes filled but she did not answer. Presently she shook her head.
+
+He looked at her dumbly, questioning. "You don't love me, Frank," she
+said at last.
+
+He could not answer her. His eyes were on the ground. A hundred thoughts
+came to his mind; thoughts of an almost overwhelming tenderness;
+thoughts of reverence for her; of affection, comradeship. But they were
+not the right thoughts. They were not what she wanted.
+
+Presently they turned and went toward the town together.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A Fairyland of gardens and lagoons sprung into existence. Great artists
+labored with a kind of beauty-madness in its making. Nine years after
+San Francisco lay in ashes its doors opened to the world. From Ruins had
+grown a Great Dream, one so beautiful and strong, it seemed unreal.
+
+Aleta and Frank went often. To them the Exposition was a rhapsody of
+silent music and they seldom broke its harmonies with speech.
+
+Frank had not recurred to the question he had asked on Presidio Hill.
+But out of it had come an unspoken compact, a comradeship of spirit that
+was very sweet.
+
+They stood one day on the margin of Fine Arts Lagoon, gazing down at the
+marvelous reflections of the great dome and its pillared colonnade.
+"Frank," the girl said almost in a whisper, "I believe that Love is
+God's heart, beating, beating ... through the Whole of Life." He turned
+and saw that her eyes were radiant. "And I think that when we feel its
+rhythm in us, it's like a call. A call to--"
+
+"What?" he asked abashed.
+
+"Service.... Frank," she faced him questioningly, half fearful. "You'll
+forgive me, won't you? I--I'm going away."
+
+She expected protest, exclamation. Instead he asked her, very quietly:
+"To Europe, Aleta? The Red Cross?"
+
+"Yes," she said, surprised. "How did you know?"
+
+"I--I'm going, myself. As a stretcher bearer."
+
+"Then--" her eyes were stars, "you've felt it, too?"
+
+He nodded.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the deck of an outbound steamer stood two figures. The sky was gray.
+Drifts of fog hung plume-like over Alcatraz, veiled the Exposition domes
+and turrets in a mystic glory. Sometimes it was like a great white
+nothingness; then, as if by magic, Color, Forms and Beauty leaped forth
+like some startling vision from a Land of Make Believe.
+
+The woman at the stern-rail stretched forth her arms. "Goodbye," her
+words were like a song, a song of heartbreak, mixed with exultation.
+"Goodbye, Oh my City of Dreams!"
+
+"We will come back," said the man shakily. "We will come with new peace
+in our hearts."
+
+"Perhaps," she replied, "but it will not matter. San Francisco will go
+on, big, generous, unafraid in its sins and virtues. Oh, Frank, I love
+it, don't you? I want it to be the greatest city in the world!"
+
+He made no answer but he caught her hand and pressed it. The fog came
+down about them like a mantle and shut them in.
+
+
+
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