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diff --git a/old/12560-8.txt b/old/12560-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f25e50c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12560-8.txt @@ -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: 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. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PORT O' GOLD*** + + +******* This file should be named 12560-8.txt or 12560-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/5/6/12560 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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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 & 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 & +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 & 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> + 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 & 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 & +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 & 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 & 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 & 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."</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 & 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.</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 & 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 & 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 & 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 & 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 & 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 declassé. "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 +& 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 & 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.</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 protégé.... 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 protégé, 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 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.</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. 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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. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PORT O' GOLD*** + + +******* This file should be named 12560.txt or 12560.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/5/6/12560 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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