THE GREY DAWN

BY

STEWART EDWARD WHITE

Illustrated byThomas Fogarty

ILLUSTRATIONS

They moved away, leaving Mrs. Morrell alone, biting her lips and planningrevenges

King listened to him in silence

"Look here, don't try to come that rot. I said, get out--and I mean it!"

"Call all you please, " he sneered. "Nobody's going to pay any attention toyour calls at Jake's Place!"

OTHER BOOKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR

THE CLAIM JUMPERSTHE WESTERNERSTHE BLAZED TRAILARIZONA NIGHTSBLAZED TRAIL STORIESTHE CABINCAMP AND TRAILCONJUROR'S HOUSETHE FORESTTHE SIGN AT SIXTHE RULES OF THE GAME

THE RIVERMANTHE SILENT PLACESTHE ADVENTURES OF BOBBY ORDETHE MOUNTAINSTHE PASSTHE MAGIC FORESTTHE LAND OF FOOTPRINTSAFRICAN CAMP FIRESTHE REDISCOVERED COUNTRYGOLDTHE MYSTERY (With Samuel Hopkins Adams)

THE GRAY DAWN

PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS IN TALE

MILTON KEITH: a young lawyer from Baltimore. NAN KEITH: his wife. JOHN SHERWOOD: a gambler. PATSY SHERWOOD: his wife. ARTHUR MORRELL: an English adventurer. MIMI MORRELL: his wife or mistress. BEN SANSOME: a lady-killer, destined to become an "old beau. "W. T. COLEMAN, or "old Vigilante, " a leader. DAVID TERRY: a leader on the other side. JAMES KING OF WILLIAM: a modern Crusader. THE SPIRIT OF SAN FRANCISCO AND OTHERS

I

On the veranda of the Bella Union Hotel, San Francisco, a man sat enjoyinghis morning pipe. The Bella Union overlooked the Plaza of that day, adusty, unkempt, open space, later to be swept and graded and dignified intoPortsmouth Square. The man was at the younger fringe of middle life. He wasdressed neatly and carefully in the fashionable costume of the time, whichwas the year of grace 1852. As to countenance, he was square and solid; asto physique, he was the same; as to expression, he inclined toward thequietly humorous; in general he would strike the observer as deliberately, philosophically competent. A large pair of steelbound spectacles sathalfway down his nose. Sometimes he read his paper through their lenses;and sometimes, forgetting, he read over the tops of their bows. Thenewspaper he held was an extraordinary document. It consisted of four largepages. The outside page was filled solidly with short eight or ten lineadvertisements; the second page grudgingly vouchsafed a single column ofnews items; the third page warmed to a column of editorial and another ofnews; all the rest of the space on these and the entire fourth page wasagain crowded close with the short advertisements. They told of the arrivalof ships, the consignment of goods, the movements of real estate, the salesof stock, but mainly of auctions. The man paid little attention to thescanty news, and none at all to the editorials. His name was John Sherwood, and he was a powerful and respected public gambler. 

The approach across the Plaza of a group of men caused him to lay aside hispaper, and with it his spectacles. The doffing of the latter strangelychanged his whole expression. The philosophical middle-aged quietude fellfrom him. He became younger, keener, more alert. It was as though he hadremoved a disguise. 

The group approaching were all young men, and all dressed in the height offashion. At that rather picturesque time this implied the flat-brimmedbeaver hat; the long swallowtail, or skirted coat; the tight "pantaloons";varicoloured, splendid, low-cut waistcoats of satin, of velvet, or ofbrocade; high wing collars; varnished boots; many sparkling, studs andcravat pins; rather longish hair; and whiskers cut close to the cheek orcurling luxuriantly under the chin. They were prosperous, well-fed, arrogant-looking youths, carrying their crests high, the light of questingrecklessness in their eyes, ready to laugh, drink, or fight with anybody. At sight of Sherwood they waved friendly hands, and canes, and veered inhis direction. 

"Yo're just the man we are looking for!" cried a tall, dark, graceful youngfellow, "We are all 'specially needful of wisdom. The drinks are on someone, and we cain't decide who. "

John Sherwood, his keen eyes twinkling, set his chair down on four legs. 

"State your case, Cal, " he said. 

Cal waved a graceful hand at a stout, burly, red-faced man whose thickblunt fingers, square blue jowl, and tilted cigar gave the flavour of theprofessional politician. "John Webb, here-excuse _me_, Sheriff John Webb-presumin' on the fact that he has been to the mines, and that he came herein '49, arrogates to himself the exclusive lyin' privileges, of thisassemblage. "

"Pretty large order, " commented Sherwood. 

"_Pre_cisely, " agreed Cal, "and that's why the drinks are on him!"

But Sheriff Webb, who had been chuckling cavernously inside his bulkyframe, spoke up in a harsh and husky voice: "I told them an innocentexperience of mine, and they try to hold me up for drinks. I don't objectto giving them a reasonable amount of drinks--what _I_ call reasonable, " headded hastily, "but I object to being held up. "

"He says he used to cook, " put in a small, alert, nervous, rather flashilydressed individual named Rowlee, editor of the _Bugle_. 

"I did!" stoutly asseverated Webb. 

"And that he baked a loaf of bread so hard nobody could eat it. "

"Sounds perfectly reasonable, " said Sherwood. 

"And that nobody could _break_ it, " Rowlee went on. 

"I have no difficulty in believing that, " said Sherwood judicially. "Yourcase is mighty weak yet, Cal. "

"But he claims it was so hard that they used it for a grindstone. "

"I did not!" disclaimed Webb indignantly. 

An accusing groan met this statement. 

"I tell you I didn't say anything of the kind, " roared Webb, his bull voiceovertopping them all. 

"Well, what did you say, then?" challenged Calhoun Bennett. 

"I said we tried to use her as a grindstone, " said Webb, "but it didn'twork. "

"Weak case, boys; weak case, " said Sherwood. 

The little group, their eyes wide, their nostrils distended, waitedaccusingly for Webb to proceed. After an interval, the sheriff, staringcritically at the lighted end of his cigar, went on in a drawling voice:

"Yes, we, couldn't get a hole through her to hang her axle on. We bluntedall our drills. Every Sunday we'd try a new scheme. Finally we laid herflat under a tree and rigged a lightnin' rod down to the centre of her. Nouse. She tore that lightning all to pieces. "

He looked up at them with a limpid, innocent eye, to catch John Sherwoodgazing at him accusingly. 

"John Webb, " said he "you forget that I came out here in, '48. On yourhonour, do you expect _me_ to believe that yarn?"

"Well, " said Webb, gazing again at his cigar end, "no--really I don't. Thefact is, " he went on with a perfectly solemn air of confidence, "the factis, I've lived out here so long and told so many damn lies that now withoutsome help I don't know when to believe myself. "

"Do we get that drink?" insisted Calhoun Bennett. 

"Oh, Lord, yes, you always get a drink. "

"Well, come on and _get_ it then--you, too, of course, Mr. Sherwood. "

The gambler arose, and began leisurely to fold his paper and to put awayhis spectacles. 

"I see you got Mex Ryan off, Cal, " he observed. "You either hadextraordinary luck, or you're a mighty fine lawyer. Looked like a clearcase to me. He just naturally went in and beat Rucker half to death in hisown store. How did you do it?"

"I assure yo' it was no sinecure, " laughed the tall, dark youth. "I earnedmy fee. "

"Yes, " grumbled Webb, "but he got six months--and I got to take care ofhim. Cluttering up my jail with dirty beasts like Mex Ryan! Could just aseasy have turned him loose!"

"That would have been a little too much!" smiled Bennett. "It was takin'some risk to let him off as easy as we did. It isn't so long since theVigilantes. "

"Oh, hell, we can handle that sort of trash now, " snorted Webb. 

"Who was backing Mex, anyway?" asked Rowlee curiously. 

"Better ask who had it in for Rucker, " suggested the fourth member of thegroup, a man who had not heretofore spoken. This was Dick Blatchford, around-faced, rather corpulent, rather silent though jovial-lookingindividual, with a calculating and humorous eye. He was magnificentlyapparelled, but rather untidy. 

"Well, I do ask it, " said Rowlee. 

But to this he got no response. 

"Come on, ain't you got that valuable paper folded up yet?" rumbled Webb toSherwood. 

They all turned down the high-pillared veranda, toward the bar, talkingidly and facetiously of last night's wine and this morning's head. A dooropened at their very elbow, and in it a woman appeared. 

II

She was a slender woman, of medium height, with a small, well-poised head, on which the hair lay smooth and glossy. Her age was somewhere betweenthirty and thirty-five years. A stranger would have been first of allimpressed by the imperious carriage of her head and shoulders, the reposeof her attitude. Become a friend or a longer acquaintance, he would havenoticed more particularly her wide low brow, her steady gray eyes and hergrave but humorous lips. But inevitably he would have gone back at last toher more general impression. Ben Sansome, the only man in town who didnothing, made society and dress a profession and the judgment of women areligion, had long since summed her up: "She carries her head charmingly. "

This poised, wise serenity of carriage was well set off by the costume ofthe early fifties--a low collar, above which her neck rose like a flowerstem; flowing sleeves; full skirts with many silken petticoats thatwhispered and rustled; low sandalled shoes, their ties crossed andrecrossed around white slender ankles. A cameo locket, hung on a heavy goldchain, rose and fell with her breast; a cameo brooch pinned together thefolds of her bodice; massive and wide bracelets of gold clasped her wristsand vastly set off her rounded, slender forearms. 

She stood quite motionless in the doorway, nodding with a little smile inresponse to the men's sweeping salutes. 

"You will excuse me gentlemen, I am sure, " said Sherwood formally, andinstantly turned aside. 

The woman in the doorway thereupon preceded him down a narrow, bare, unlighted hallway, opened another door, and entered a room. Sherwoodfollowed, closing the door after him. 

"Want something, Patsy?" he inquired. 

The room was obviously one of the best of the Bella Union. That is to say, it was fairly large, the morning sun streamed in through its two windows, and it contained a small iron stove. In all other respects it differedquite from any other hotel room in the San Francisco of that time. A heavycarpet covered the floor, the upholstery was of leather or tapestry, wallpaper adorned the walls, a large table supported a bronze lamp and numerousbooks and papers, a canary, in a brass cage, hung in the sunshine of one ofthe windows, flitted from perch to perch, occasionally uttering a fewliquid notes under its breath. 

"Just a little change, Jack, if you have some with you, " said the woman. Her speaking voice was rich and low. 

Sherwood thrust a forefinger into his waistcoat pocket, and produced one ofthe hexagonal slugs of gold current at that time. 

"Oh, not so much!" she protested. 

"All I've got. What are you up to to-day, Patsy?"

"I thought of going down to Yet Lee's--unless there is something better todo. "

"Doesn't sound inspiring. Did you go to that fair or bazaar thingyesterday?"

She smiled with her lips, but her eyes darkened. 

"Yes, I went. It was not altogether enjoyable. I doubt if I'll try thatsort of thing again. "

Sherwood's eye suddenly became cold and dangerous. 

"If they didn't treat you right--"

She smiled, genuinely this time, at his sudden truculence. 

"They didn't mob me, " she rejoined equably, "and, anyway, I suppose it isto be expected. "

"It's that cat of Morrell's, " he surmised. 

"Oh, she--and others. I ought not to have spoken of it, Jack. It's reallybeneath the contempt of sensible people. "

"I'll get after Morrell, if he doesn't make that woman behave, " saidSherwood, without attention to her last speech. 

She smiled at him again, entirely calm and reasonable. 

"And what good would it do to get after Morrell?" she asked. "Mrs. Morrellonly stands for what most of them feel. I don't care, anyway. I get alongsplendidly without them. " She sauntered over to the window, where she beganidly to poke one finger at the canary. 

"For the life of me, Patsy, " confessed Sherwood, "I can't see that they'rean inspiring lot, anyway. From what little I've seen of them, they haven'tmore than an idea apiece. They'd bore me to death in a week. "

"I know that. They'd bore me, too. Don't talk about them. When do theyexpect the _Panama_--do you know?"

But with masculine persistence he refused to abandon the topic. 

"I must confess I don't see the point, " he insisted. "You've got morebrains than the whole lot of them together, you've got more sense, you're alot better looking"--he surveyed her, standing in the full light by thecanary's cage, her little glossy head thrown back, her pink lips poutedteasingly at the charmed and agitated bird, her fine clear featuresprofiled in the gold of the sunshine--"and you're a thoroughbred, egad, which most of them are not. "

"Oh, thank you, kind sir. " She threw him a humourous glance. "But of coursethat is not the point. "

"Oh, isn't it? Well, perhaps you'll tell me the point. "

She left the canary and came to face him. 

"I'm not respectable, " she said. 

At the word he exploded. 

"Respectable? What are you talking about? You talk as though--as though weweren't married, egad!"

"Well, Jack, " she replied, a faint mocking smile curving the corners of hermouth, "when it comes to that, we _did_ elope, you'll have to acknowledge. And we weren't married for quite a long time afterward. "

"We got married as soon as we could, didn't we?" he cried indignantly. "Wasit our fault that we didn't get married sooner? And what difference did itmake, anyway?"

"Now don't get all worked up, " she chided. "I'm just telling you why, inthe eyes of some of these people, I'm not 'respectable. ' You asked me, youknow. "

"Go on, " he conceded to this last. 

"Well, we ran away and weren't married. That's item one. Then perhapsyou've forgotten that I sat on lookout for some of your games in the earlydays in the mining camps?"

"Forgotten?" said Sherwood, the light of reminiscence springing to hiseyes. 

The same light had come into hers. 

"Will you _ever_ forget, " she murmured, "the camps by the summer streams, the log towns, the lights, the smoke, the freedom--the comradeship--"

"Homesick for the old rough days?" he teased. 

"Kind of, " she confessed. "But it wasn't 'respectable'--a--well, a _fairly_good-looking woman in a miner's saloon. "

He flared again. 

"Do you mean to tell me they dare say--"

"They dare say anything--behind our backs, " she said, with cool contempt. "It's all drivelling nonsense. I care nothing about it. But you asked me. Don't bother your head about it. Have you anything to suggest doing thismorning, instead of Yet Lee's?" She turned away from him toward the doorleading into another room. "I'll get my hat, " she said over her shoulder. 

"Look here, Patsy, " said Sherwood, rather grimly, "if you want to get inwith that lot, you shall. "

She stopped at this, and turned square around. 

"If I do--when I do--I will, " she replied. "But, John Sherwood, you mustn'tinterfere--never in the world! Promise!" She stood there, almost menacingin her insistence, evidently resolved to nip this particularly masculineresolution in the bud. 

"Egad, Patsy, " cried Sherwood, "you are certainly a raving beauty!"

He covered the ground between them in two strides, and crushed her in hisarms. She threw her head back for his kiss. 

A knock sounded, and almost immediately a very black, very bullet-headedyoung negro thrust his head in at the door. 

"Sam, " said Sherwood deliberately, "some day I'm going to kill you!"

"Yes, sah! yes, sah!" agreed Sam heartily. 

"Well, what the devil do you want?"

"Th' _Panama_ done been, signalled; yes, sah!" said the negro, but withoutfollowing his head through the door. 

"Well, what the devil do you suppose I care, you black limb?" roaredSherwood, "and what do you mean coming in here before you're told?"

"Yes, sah! yes, sah, dat's right, " ducked Sam, "Shell I awdah the team, sah?"

"I suppose we might as well go see her docked. Would you like it?" he askedhis wife. 

"I'd love it. "

"Then get the team. And some day I'm going to kill you. "

III

Mrs. Sherwood prepared herself first of all by powdering her nose. Thissimple operation, could it have been seen by the "respectable" members ofthe community, would in itself have branded her as "fast, " In those dayscosmetics of any sort were by most considered inventions of the devil. Ittook extraordinary firmness of character even to protect one's self againstsunburn by anything more artificial than the shadow of a hat or a parasol. Then she assumed a fascinating little round hat that fitted well down overher small head. This, innocent of pins, was held on by an elastic at theback. A ribbon, hanging down directly in front, could be utilized to steadyit in a breeze. 

"All ready, " she announced, picking up a tiny parasol, about big enough fora modern doll. "You may carry my mantle. "

Near the foot of the veranda steps waited Sam at the heads of a pair ofbeautiful, slim, satiny horses. Their bay coats had been groomed until theyrippled and sparkled with every movement of the muscles beneath. Wide red-lined nostrils softly expanded and contracted with a restrained eagerness;and soft eyes rolled in the direction of the Sherwoods--keen, lithe, nervous, high-strung creatures, gently stamping little hoofs, impatientlytossing dainty heads, but nevertheless making no movement that would stirthe vehicle that stood "cramped" at the steps. Their harness carried noblinders; their tails, undocked, swept the ground; but their heads werepulled into the air by the old stupid overhead check reins until theirnoses pointed almost straight ahead. It gave them rather a haughty air. 

Sherwood stepped in first, took the reins in one hand, and offered hisother hand to his wife. Sam instantly left the horses' heads to hold awicker contrivance against the arc of the wheels. This was to protectskirts from dusty tires. Mrs. Sherwood settled as gracefully to her placeas a butterfly on its flower. Sam snatched away the wicker guards. Sherwoodspoke to the horses. With a purring little snort they moved smoothly away. The gossamerlike wheels threw the light from their swift spokes. Sam, halfchoked by the swirl of dust, gazed after them. Sherwood, leaning slightlyforward against the first eagerness of the animals, showed a strong, competent, arresting figure, with his beaver hat, his keen grim face, hissnow-white linen, and the blue of his brass-buttoned-coat. The beautifulhorses were stepping as one, a delight to the eye, making nothing whateverof the frail vehicle at their heels. But Sam's eye lingered longest on thesmall stately figure of his mistress. She sat very straight, her head high, the little parasol poised against the sun, the other hand clasping the hatribbon. 

"Dem's quality foh sure!" said Sam with conviction. 

Sherwood drove rapidly around the edge of the Plaza and, so into KearneyStreet. From here to the water front were by now many fireproof brick andstone structures, with double doors and iron shatters, like fortresses. Somuch had San Francisco learned from her five disastrous fires. The stonehad come from China, the brick also from overseas. Down side streets onecaught glimpses of huge warehouses--already in this year of 1852 men talkedof the open-air auctions of three years before as of something in historyinconceivably remote. The streets, where formerly mule teams had literallybeen drowned in mud, now were covered with planking. This made a fineresounding pavement. Horses' hoofs went merrily _klop, klop, klop_, and thewheels rumbled a dull undertone. San Francisco had been very proud of thispavement when it was new. She was very grateful for it even now, for in theupper part of town the mud and dust were still something awful. Unfortunately the planks were beginning to wear out in places; and a citygovernment, trying to give the least possible for its taxes, had made norepairs. 

There were many holes, large or small: jagged, splintered, ugly holes goingdown to indeterminate blackness either of depth or mud. Privatephilanthropists had fenced or covered these. Private facetiousness hadlabelled most of them with signboards. These were rough pictures ofdisaster painted from the marking pot, and various screeds--"Head ofNavigation, " "No Bottom, " "Horse and Dray Lost Here, " "Take Soundings, ""Storage, Inquire Below, " "Good Fishing for Teal, " and the like. 

Among these obstructions Sherwood guided his team skilfully, dodging notonly them, but other vehicles darting or crawling in the same direction. There were no rules of the road. Omnibuses careered along, every windowrattling loudly; drays creaked and strained, their horses' hoofs slippingagainst wet planks; horsemen threaded their way; nondescript deliverywagons tried to outrattle the omnibuses. The din was somethingextraordinary--hoofs drumming, wheels rumbling, oaths and shouts, and fromthe sidewalks the blare and bray of brass bands in front of the variousauction shops. Newsboys and bootblacks darted in all directions, shoutingraucously as they do to-day. Cigar boys, an institution of the time, addedto the hubbub. Everybody was going in the same direction, some saunteringwith an air of leisure, some hurrying as though their fortunes were atstake. 

A wild shriek arose, and everybody made room for the steam sand shovel onits way to dump the sand hills into the bay. It was called the "steampaddy" to distinguish it from the "hand paddy"--out of Cork or Dublin. Itrumbled by on its track, very much like juggernaut in its calm indifferenceas to how many it ran over. Sherwood's horses looked at it nervouslyaskance; but he spoke to them, and though they trembled they stood. 

Now they debouched on the Central Wharf, and the sound of the hoofs and thewheels changed its tone. Central Wharf extended a full mile into the bay. It was lined on either side its narrow roadway by small shacks, in whichwere offered fowls, fish, vegetables, candy, refreshments. Some of themwere tiny saloons or gambling houses. But by far the majority were thecubicles where the Jewish slop sellers displayed their wares. Men returningfrom the mines here landed, and here replenished their wardrobes. Everything was exposed to view outside, like clothes hung out after a rain. 

The narrow way between this long row of shops was crowded almostdangerously. Magnificent dray horses, with long hair on the fetlocks abovetheir big heavy hoofs, bridling in conscious pride of silver-mountedharness and curled or braided manes, rose above the ruck as theirancestors, the warhorses, must have risen in medieval battle. The crowdparted before them and closed in behind them. Here and there, too, ahorseman could be seen--with a little cleared space at his heels. Or aprivate calash picking its way circumspectly. 

From her point of vantage on the elevated seat Mrs. Sherwood could see overthe heads of people. She sat very quietly, her body upright, but in thepoised repose characteristic of her. Many admiring glances were directed ather. She seemed to be unconscious of them. Nevertheless, nothing escapedher. She saw, and appreciated and enjoyed, every phase of thatheterogeneous crowd--miners in their exaggeratedly rough clothes, brocadedor cotton clad Chinese, gorgeous Spaniards or Chileños, drunken men, sobermen, excited men, empty cans or cases kicking around underfoot, franticrunners for hotels or steamboats trying to push their way by, newsboys andcigar boys darting about and miraculously worming their way throughimpenetrable places. Atop a portable pair of steps a pale, well-dressedyoung man was playing thimble-rig on his knees with a gilt pea. From anupturned keg a preacher was exhorting. And occasionally, through gapsbetween the shacks, she caught glimpses of blue water; or of ships atanchor; or, more often, of the tall pile drivers whose hammers wentsteadily up and down. 

Sherwood guided his glossy team and light spidery vehicle with the greatestdelicacy and skill. He was wholly absorbed in his task. Suddenly up ahead awild turmoil broke out. People crowded to right and left, clambering, shouting, screaming. A runaway horse hitched to a light buggy camecareering down the way. 

A collision seemed inevitable. Sherwood turned his horses' heads directlyat an open shop front. They hesitated, their small pointed ears workingnervously. Sherwood spoke to them. They moved forward, quivering, pickingtheir way daintily. Sherwood spoke again. They stopped. The runaway hurtledby, missing the tail of the buggy by two feet. A moment later a grand crashmarked the end of its career farther down the line. Again Sherwood spoke tohis horses, and exerted the slightest pressure on the reins. Daintily, slowly, their ears twitching back and forth, their fine eyes rolling, theybacked out of the opening. 

Throughout all this exciting little incident the woman had not altered herpose nor the expression of her face. Her head high, her eye ruminative, shehad looked on it all as one quite detached from possible consequences. Thelittle parasol did not change its angle. Only, quite deliberately, she hadrelinquished the ribbon by which she held on her hat, and had placed herslender hand steadyingly on the side of the vehicle. 

The bystanders, already leaping down from their places of refuge and againcrowding the narrow way, directed admiring eyes toward the beautiful, nervous, docile horses, the calm and dominating man, and the poised, daintycreature at his side. One drunken individual cheered her personally. Atthis a faint shell pink appeared in her cheeks, though she gave no othersign that she had heard. Sherwood glanced down at her, amused. 

But now emerged the Jew slop seller, very voluble. He had darted like a ratto some mysterious inner recess of his burrow; but now he was out againfilling the air with lamentations, claims, appeals for justice. Sherwooddid not even glance toward him; but in the very act of tooling his horsesinto the roadway tossed the man some silver. Immediately, with shouts andcheers and laughter, the hoodlums nearby began a scramble. 

The end of the long wharf widened to a great square, free of all buildingsbut a sort of warehouse near one end. Here a rope divided off a landingspace. Close to the rope the multitude crowded, ready for itsentertainment. Here also stood in stately grandeur the three livery hacksof which San Francisco boasted. They were magnificent affairs, the like ofwhich has never elsewhere been seen plying for public hire, brightlypainted, highly varnished, lined with silks, trimmed with solid silver. Theharnesses were heavily mounted with the same metal. On their boxes satfashionable creatures, dressed, not in livery, but throughout in the verylatest of the late styles, shod with varnished leather, gloved with softestkid. Sherwood drove skilfully to the very edge of the roped space, pushingaside the crowd on foot. They growled at him savagely. He paid no attentionto them, and they gave way. The buggy came to a stop. The horses, tossingtheir heads, rolling their eyes, stamping their little hoofs, neverthelessstood without need of further attention. 

Now the brass bands blared with a sudden overwhelming blast of sound, thecrowd cheered noisily; the runners for the hotels began to bark like a packof dogs. With a vast turmoil of paddle wheels, swirling of white and greenwaters, bellowing of speaking trumpets, throwing of handlines and scurryingof deck hands and dock hands, the _Panama_ came to rest. After considerabledelay the gangplank was placed. The passengers began to disembark, facingthe din much as they would have faced the buffeting of a strong wind. Thiswas the cream of the entertainment for which the crowd had gathered; forwhich, indeed, the Sherwoods had made their excursion. Each individualreceived his meed of comment, sometimes audible and by no means alwaysflattering. Certainly in variety both of character and of circumstance theyoffered plenty of material. From wild, half-civilized denizens ofLouisiana's canebrakes, clinging closely to their little bundles and theirlong rifles, to the most polished exquisites of fashion they offered allgrades and intermediates. Some of them looked rather bewildered. Someseemed to know just what to do and where to go. Most dove into the crowdwith the apparent idea of losing their identity as soon as possible. Thethree magnificent hacks were filled, and managed, with much plunging andexcitement, to plow a way through the crowd and so depart. Amusing thingshappened to which the Sherwoods called each other's attention. Thus a man, burdened with a single valise, ducked under the ropes near them. A paperboy happened to be standing near. The passenger offered the boy a fifty-cent piece. 

"Here, boy, " said he, "just carry this valise for me. "

The paper boy gravely contemplated the fifty cents, dove into his pocket, and produced another. 

"Here, man, " said he, handing them both to the traveller, "take this andcarry it yourself. "

One by one the omnibuses filled and departed. The stream of passengers downthe gangplank had ceased. The crowd began to thin. Sherwood gathered hisreins to go. Mrs. Sherwood suddenly laid her hand on his forearm. 

"Oh, the poor thing!" she cried, her voice thrilling with compassion. 

A young man and a steward were supporting a girl down the gangplank. Evidently she was very weak and ill. Her face was chalky white, with darkrings under the eyes, her lips were pale, and she leaned heavily on themen. Although she could not have heard Mrs. Sherwood's exclamation of pity, she happened to look up at that instant, revealing a pair of large, dark, and appealing eyes. Her figure, too, dressed in a plain travelling dress, strikingly simple but bearing the unmistakable mark of distinction, wasappealing; as were her exquisite, smooth baby skin and the downwarddrooping, almost childlike, curves of her lips. The inequalities of theribbed gangplank were sufficient to cause her to stumble. 

"She is very weak, " commented Mrs. Sherwood. 

"She is--or would be--remarkably pretty, " added Sherwood. "I wonder whatails her. "

Arrived at the foot of the gangplank the young man removed his hat with anair of perplexity, and looked about him. He was of the rather florid, always boyish type; and the removal of his hat had revealed a mat of close-curling brown hair, like a cap over his well-shaped head. The normalexpression of his face was probably quizzically humorous, for already thelittle lines of habitual half laughter were sketched about his eyes. 

"A plunger, " said John Sherwood to himself, out of his knowledge of men;then as the young man glanced directly toward him, disclosing the colourand expression of his eyes, "a plunger in something, " he amended, revisinghis first impression. 

But now the humorous element was quite in abeyance, and a faint dismay hadtaken its place. One arm supporting the drooping girl, he was looking upand down the wharf. Not a vehicle remained save the heavy drays alreadybacking up to receive their loads of freight. The dock hands had droppedand were coiling the line that had separated the crowd from the landingstage. 

With another exclamation the woman in the carriage rose, and beforeSherwood could make a move to assist her, had poised on the rim of thewheel and leaped lightly to the dock. Like a thistledown she floated to thelittle group at the foot of the gangplank. The steward instantly gave wayto her evident intention. She passed her arm around the girl's waist. Thethree moved slowly toward the buggy, Mrs. Sherwood, her head bentcharmingly forward, murmuring compassionate, broken, little phrases, supporting the newcomer's reviving footsteps. 

Sherwood, a faint, fond amusement lurking in the depths of his eyes, quietly cramped the wheels of the buggy. 

IV

A half hour later the two men, having deposited the women safely in theSherwoods' rooms at the Bella Union, and having been unceremoniouslydismissed by Mrs. Sherwood, strolled together to the veranda. They had not, until now, had a chance to exchange six words. 

The newcomer, who announced himself as Milton Keith from Baltimore, provedto have a likable and engaging personality. He was bubbling with interestand enthusiasm; and these qualities, provided they are backed solidly, arealways prepossessing. Sherwood, quietly studying him, concluded that suchwas the case. His jaw and mouth were set in firm lines; his eye, whiledancing and mischievous, had depths of capability and reserves offorcefulness. But Sherwood was, by inclination and by the necessities ofhis profession, a close observer of men. Another, less practised, mighthave seen here merely an eager, rather talkative, apparently volatile, veryfriendly, quite unreserved young man of twenty-five. Any one, analytical orotherwise, could not have avoided feeling the attractive force of theyouth's personality, the friendly quality that is nine tenths individualmagnetism and one tenth the cast of mind that initially takes for grantedthe other man's friendliness. 

At the moment Keith was boyishly avid for the sights of the new city. Inthese modern days of long journeys, a place so remote as San Francisco, inthe most commonplace of circumstances, gathers to its reputation somethingof the fabulous. How much more true then of a city built from sand dunes infour years; five times swept by fire, yet rising again and better beforeits ashes were extinct; the resort of all the picturesque, unknown races ofthe earth--the Chinese, the Chileño, the Mexican, the Spanish, theIslander, the Moor, the Turk--not to speak of ordinary foreigners fromRussia, England, France, Belgium, Germany, Italy, and the out-of-the-waycorners of Europe; the haunt of the wild and striking individuals of allthese races. "Sydney ducks" from the criminal colonies; "shoulder strikers"direct from the tough wards of New York; long, lean, fever-haunted crackersfrom the Georgia mountains or the Louisiana canebrakes; Pike Countydesperadoes; long-haired men from the trapping countries; hard-fisted, sardonic state of Maine men fresh from their rivers; and Indian fightersfrom the Western Reserve; grasping, shrewd commercial Yankees; fire-eatingSouthern politicians; lawyers, doctors, merchants, chiefs, and thiefs, thewell-educated and the ignorant, the high-minded and the scalawags, alldumped down together on a sand hill to work out their destinies; a citywhose precedents, whose morals, whose laws, were made or adapted on thespot; where might in some form or another--revolver, money, influence--madeits only right; whose history ranged in three years the gamut of humanpassion, strife, and development; whose background was the fabled El Doradowhence the gold in unending floods poured through its sluices. To theoutside world tales of these things had come. They did not lose in thejourney. The vast loom of actual occurrences rose above the horizon likemirages. Names and events borrowed a half-legendary quality from distances, as elsewhere from time. Keith had heard of Coleman, of Terry, of Broderick, Brannan, Gwin, Geary, as he had heard of the worthies of ancient history;he had visualized the fabled splendours of San Francisco's great gamblinghouses, of the excitements of her fervid, fevered life, as he might havevisualized the magnificences of pagan Rome; he had listened to tales of herstreet brawls, her vast projects, the buccaneering raids of her big men, her Vigilance Committee of the year before, as he would have listened tothe stories of one of Napoleon's veterans. Now, by the simple process of avoyage that had seemed literally interminable but now was past, he hadlanded in the very midst of fable. It was like dying, he told Sherwoodeagerly, like going irretrievably to a new planet. All his old world nowseemed as remote, as insubstantial, as phantomlike, as this had seemed. 

"Even yet I can't believe it's all so, " he cried, walking excitedly backand forth, and waving an extinct cigar. "I've got to see it, touch it! Why, I know it all in advance. That must be where the Jenny Lind Theatre stood--before the fire--just opposite? I thought so! And the bay used to come upto Montgomery Street, only a block down! You see, I know it all! And whenwe came in, and I saw all those idle ships lying at anchor, just as theyhave lain since their crews deserted them in '49 to go to the mines--and Iknow why they haven't been used since, why they will continue to lie thereat anchor until they rot or sink--"

"Do you?" said Sherwood, who was vastly amused and greatly taken by thisfresh enthusiasm. 

"Yes, the clipper ships!" Keith swept on. "The first cargoes in this newmarket make the money--the fastest clippers--poor old hulks--but youbrought in the argonauts!"

So he ran on, venting his impatience, so plainly divided between his senseof duty in staying near his wife and his great desire to slip the leash, that Sherwood smiled to himself. Once again he mentioned Coleman and theVigilantes of '51. 

"I suppose he's around here? I may see him?"

"Oh, yes, " said Sherwood, "you'll see him. But if you would accept a bit ofadvice, go slow. You must remember that such a movement makes enemies, arouses opposition. A great many excellent people--whom you will know--area little doubtful about all that. "

Keith mentioned other names. 

"I know them all. They are among the most influential members of the bar. "He glanced at a large watch. "Just at this hour we might find them at theMonumental engine house. What do you say?"

"I should like nothing better!" cried Keith. 

"Your wife's illness is not likely to require immediate attendance?"suggested Sherwood inquiringly. 

"She's only seasick--horrible voyage--she's always under the weather onshipboard--three weeks of it from Panama--Nan's as strong as a horse, "replied Keith, with obvious impatience. 

They walked across the Plaza to the Monumental fire engine house, a squarebrick structure of two stories, with wide folding doors, and a bell cupolaapart. Keith paused to admire the engine. It was of the type usual in thosedays, consisting of a waterbox with inlet and outlet connections, a pumpatop, and parallel pump rails on either side, by the hand manipulation ofwhich the water was thrown with force from the box. The vehicle was drawnby means of a long rope, carried on a drum. This could be slacked off atneed to accommodate as high as a hundred men or as few as would suffice tomove her. So far this engine differed in no manner from those Keith hadseen in the East. But this machine belonged to a volunteer company, one ofmany and all rivals. It was gayly coloured. On the sides of its waterboxwere scenic paintings of some little merit. The woodwork was all mahogany. Its brass ornamentation was heavy and brought to a high state of polish. From a light rack along its centre dangled two beautifully chased speakingtrumpets, and a row of heavy red-leather helmets. Axes nestled in sockets. A screaming gilt eagle, with wings outspread, hovered atop. Alongside theengine stood the hook and ladder truck and the hose cart. These smaller andless important vehicles were painted in the same scheme of colour, wereequally glittering and polished. Keith commented on all this admiringly. 

"Yes, " said Sherwood, "you see, since the big fires, it has become a gooddeal a matter of pride. There are eleven volunteer companies, and they aregreat rivals in everything, political and social, as well as in the line ofregular business, so to speak. Mighty efficient. You'll have to join acompany, of course; and you better look around a little before deciding. Each represents something different--some different element. They arereally as much clubs as fire companies. "

They mounted to the upper story, where Keith found himself in a long room, comfortably fitted with chairs, tables, books, and papers. A double doorshowed a billiard table in action. Sherwood indicated a closed door acrossthe hall. 

"Card rooms, " said he briefly. 

The air was blue with smoke and noisy with rather vociferative conversationand laughter. Several groups of men were gathered in little knots. A negroin white duck moved here and there carrying a tray. 

Sherwood promptly introduced Keith to many of these men, and he was aspromptly asked to name his drink. Keith caught few of the names, but heliked the hearty, instant cordiality. Remarking on the beauty and order ofthe machines, loud cries arose for "Taylor! Bert Taylor!" After a moment'sdelay a short, stocky, very red-faced man, with rather a fussy manner, cameforward. 

"Mr. Keith, " said a tall, dark youth, with a pronounced Southern accent, "I want foh to make you acquainted with Mr. Tayloh. Mr. Tayloh is at oncethe patron saint of the Monumentals, but to a large extent its 'angel' aswell --I hope you understand the theatrical significance of that term, suh. He is motheh, fatheh, guardeen, and dry nurse to every stick, stone, and brick, every piece of wood, brass, or rubbah, every inch of hose, andevery man _and_ Irishman on these premises. " Taylor had turned anembarrassed brick red. "Mr. Keith, " went on the dark youth, explanatorily, "was just sayin' that though he had inspected carefully many fireequipments, per'fessional and amateur, he had nevah feasted his eyeson so complete an outfit as that of our Monumentals. "

Keith had not said all this, but possibly he had meant it. The brick-red, stocky little man was so plainly embarrassed and anxious to depart thatKeith racked his brains for something to say. All he could remember was themanufacturer's nameplate on the machine downstairs. 

"I see you have selected the Hunaman engine, sir, " said he. The littleman's eye brightened. 

"It may be, sir, that you favour the piano-box type--of the sort made bySmith or Van Ness?" he inquired politely. 

"It is a point on which my opinion is still-suspended, " replied Keith withgreat gravity. 

The little man moved nearer, and his shyness fell from him. 

"Oh, but really there is no choice, none whatever!" he cried. "I'm sure, sir, I can convince you in five minutes. I assure you we have gone into thesubject thoroughly--this Hunaman cost us over five thousand dollars; andyou may be certain we went very thoroughly into the matter before makingthe investment----"

He went on talking in his self-effacing, deprecatory, but very earnestfashion. The other men in the group, Keith felt, were watching with covertamusement. Occasionally, he thought to catch half-concealed grins at hispredicament. In less than the five minutes the claims of the piano box wereutterly demolished. Followed a dissertation on methods of fighting fire;and then a history of the Monumental Company--its members, its officers, and its proud record. "And our bell--did you know that?--is the bell usedby the Vigilantes--" He broke off suddenly in confusion, his embarrassmentdescending on him again. A moment later he sidled away. 

"But I found him very interesting!" protested Keith, in answer to impliedapologies. 

"Bert is invaluable here; but he's a lunatic on fire apparatus. We couldn'tget along without him, but it's sometimes mighty difficult to get on _with_him, " said some one. 

Keith was making a good impression without consciously trying to do so. Hishigh spirits of youth and enthusiasm were in his favour; and as yet he hadno interests to come into conflict with those of any one present. Moredrinks were ordered and fresh cigars lighted. From Sherwood they nowlearned that Keith had but just landed, and intended to settle as apermanent resident. As one man they uprose. 

"And yo' wastin' of yo' time indoors!" mourned the dark Southerner. "And somuch to see!"

Enthusiastically they surrounded him and led him forth. Only a very old, very small, very decadent village is devoid of what is modernly called the"booster" spirit. In those early days of slow transportation and isolatedcommunities, local patriotism was much stronger than it is now. Andsomething about the air's wine of the Pacific slope has always, andprobably will always, make of every man an earnest proselyte for whateverpatch of soil he calls home. But add to these general considerations theindubitable facts of harbour, hill, health, opportunity, activity, and agenuine history, if of only three years, one can no longer marvel thatevery man, each in his own way, saw visions. 

In the course of the next few hours Keith got confused and mixedimpressions of many things. The fortresslike warehouses; the plank roads;the new Jenny Lind Theatre; the steam paddies eating steadily into the sandhills at the edge of town; the Dramatic Museum; houses perched on thecrumbling edges of hills; houses sunk far below the level of new streets, with tin cans and ducks floating around them; new office buildings; placeswhere new office buildings were going to be or merely ought to be; landthat in five years was going to be worth fabulous sums; unlikely lookingspots where historic things had stood or had happened--all these werepointed out to him. He was called upon to exercise the eye of faith; toreconstruct; to eliminate the unfinished, the mean, the sordid; to overlookthe inadequate; to build the city as it was sure to be; and to concernhimself with that and that only. He admired Mount Tamalpais over the way. He was taken up a high hill--a laborious journey--to gaze on the spot wherehe would have been able to see Mount Diabolo, if only Mount Diabolo hadbeen visible. And every few blocks he was halted and made to shake handswith some one who was always immediately characterized to him impressively, under the breath--"Colonel Baker, sir, one of the most divinely endowed menwith the gift of eloquence, sir"; "Mr. Rowlee, sir, editor of one of ourleading journals"; "Judge Caldwell, sir at present one of the ornaments ofour bench"; "Mr. Ben Sansome, sir, a leadin' young man in our young butvigorous social life"; and so on. 

These introductions safely and ceremoniously accomplished, each newcomerinsisted on leading the way to the nearest bar. 

"I insist, sir. It is just the hour for my afternoon toddy. "

After some murmuring of expostulation, the invitation was invariablyaccepted. 

There was always a barroom immediately adjacent. Keith was struck by thenumber and splendour of these places. Although San Francisco was only threeyears removed from the tent stage, and although the freightage from thecentres of civilization was appalling, there was no lack of luxury. Mahogany bars with brass rails, huge mirrors with gilt frames, pyramids ofdelicate crystal, rich hangings, oil paintings of doubtful merit butindisputable interest, heavy chandeliers of prism glasses, most elaboratefree lunches, and white-clad barkeepers--such matters were common to all. In addition, certain of the more pretentious boasted special attractions. Thus, one place supported its ceiling on crystal pillars; another--and thiswas crowded--had dashing young women to serve the drinks, though the mixingwas done by men; a third offered one of the new large musical boxes capableof playing several very noisy tunes; a fourth had imported a marvellouspiece of mechanism: a piece of machinery run by clockwork, exhibiting thesea in motion, a ship tossing on its bosom; on shore, a water mill inaction, a train of cars passing over a bridge, a deer chase with hounds, huntsmen, and game, all in pursuit or flight, and the like. The barkeeperswere marvels of dexterity and of especial knowledge. At command they woulddeftly and skilfully mix a great variety of drinks--cocktails, sangarees, juleps, bounces, swizzles, and many others. In mixing these drinks it wastheir especial pride to pass them at arm's length from one tall glass toanother, the fluid describing a long curve through the air, but spillingnever a drop. 

In these places Keith pledged in turn each of his new acquaintances, andwas pledged by them. Never, he thought, had he met so jolly, sointeresting, so experienced a lot of men. They had not only lived history, they had made it. They were so full of high spirits and the spirit of play. His heart warmed to them mightily; and over and over he told himself thathe had made no mistake in his long voyage to new fields of endeavour. Onthe other hand, he, too, made a good impression. Naturally the numerousdrinks had something to do with this mutual esteem; but also it was a factthat his boyish, laughing, half-reckless spirit had much in common with thespirit of the times. Quite accidentally he discovered that the tall, darkSouthern youth was Calhoun Bennett. This then seemed to him a remarkablecoincidence. 

"Why, I have a letter of introduction to you!" he said. 

Again and again he recurred to this point, insisting on telling everybodyhow extraordinary the situation was. 

"Here I've been talking to him for three hours, " he exclaimed, "and neverknew who he was, and all the time I had a letter of introduction to him!"

This and a warm irresponsible glow of comradeship were the sole indicationsof the drinks he had had. Keith possessed a strong head. Some of the otherswere not so fortunate. Little Rowlee was frankly verging on drunkenness. 

The afternoon wind was beginning to die, and the wisps of high fog thathad, since two o'clock, been flying before it, now paused and forgatheredto veil the sky. Dusk was falling. 

"Look here, " suggested Rowlee suddenly; "let's go to Allen's Branch andhave a good dinner, and then drift around to Belle's place and see ifthere's any excitement to be had thereabouts. "

"Belle--our local Aspasia, sah, " breathed a very elaborate, pompous, elderly Southerner, who had been introduced as Major Marmaduke Miles. 

But this suggestion brought to Keith a sudden realization of the latenessof the hour, the duration of his absence, and the fact that, not only hadhe not yet settled his wife in rooms of her own, but had left her on thehands of strangers. For the first time he noticed that Sherwood was not ofthe party. 

"When did Sherwood leave?" he cried. 

"Oh, a right sma't time ago, " said Bennett. 

Keith started to his feet. 

"I should like to join you, " said he, "but it is impossible now. "

A chorus of expostulation went up at this. 

"But I haven't settled down yet!" persisted Keith. "I don't know evenwhether my baggage is at the hotel. "

They waived aside his objections; but finding him obdurate, perhaps alittle panicky over the situation, they gave over urging the point. 

"But you must join us later in the evening, " said they. 

The idea grew. 

"I tell you what, " said Rowlee, with half-drunken gravity; "he's got tocome back. We can't afford to lose him this early. And he can't afford tolose us. The best life of this glorious commonwealth is as yet a sealedbook to him. It is our sacred duty, gentlemen, to break those seals. Whatdoes he know of our temples of Terpsichore? Our altars to the gods ofchance? Our bowers of the Cyprians?"

He would have gone on at length, but Keith, laughingly protesting, tryingto disengage himself from the detaining hands, broke in with a promise toreturn. But little Rowlee was not satisfied. 

"I think we should take no chances, " he stated. "How would it be to appointa committee to 'company him and see that he gets back?"

Keith's head was clear enough to realize with dismay that this brilliantidea was about to take. But Ben Sansome, seizing the situation, locked hisarm firmly in Keith's. 

"I'll see personally that he gets back, " said he. 

V

"That was mighty good of you; you saved my life!" said Keith to him, gratefully, as they walked up the street. 

"You couldn't have that tribe of wild Indians descending on your wife, "said Sansome. He had kept pace with, the others, but showed it not at all. Sansome was a slender, languid, bored, quiet sort of person, exceedinglywell dressed in the height of fashion, speaking with a slight, well-breddrawl, given to looking rather superciliously from beneath his fineeyelashes, almost too good looking. He liked, or pretended he liked, toview life from the discriminating spectator's standpoint; and remainedunstirred by stirring events. He prided himself on the delicacy of hissocial tact. In the natural course of evolution he would probably nevermarry, and would become in time an "old beau, " haunting ballrooms withreminiscences of old-time belles. 

Keith, meeting the open air, began to feel his exhilaration. 

"What I need is my head under a pump for about ten seconds, " he toldSansome frankly. "Lord! It was just about time I got away. "

Arrived at the hotel, Sansome said good-bye, but Keith would have none ofit. 

"No, no!" he cried. "You must come in, now you've come so far! I want youto meet my wife; she'll be delighted!"

And Sansome, whose celebrated social tact had been slightly obscured by hispotations, finally consented. Truth to tell, it would have been a littledifficult for him to have got away. Poising his light stick and gloves inhis left hand, giving his drooping moustache a last twirl, and settling hisheavy cravat in place, he followed Keith down the little hall to theSherwoods' apartments. 

At the knock Keith was at once invited to enter. The men threw open thedoor. Sansome stared with all his might. 

Nan Keith had made the usual miraculous recovery from seasickness once shefelt the solid ground beneath, her. The beautiful baby-textured skin hadcome alive with soft colour, her dark, wide, liquid eyes had brightened. She had assumed a soft, silken, wrapperlike garment with, a wide sash, borrowed from Mrs. Sherwood; and at the moment was seated in an envelopingarmchair beneath a wide-shaded lamp. The firm, soft lines of her figure, uncorseted in this negligée, were suggested beneath the silk. Sansomestopped short, staring, his eyes kindling with, interest. Here wassomething not only new but different--a distinct addition. Sansome, likemost dilettantes, was something of a phrase maker, and prided himself onthe apt word. He found it here, to his own satisfaction, at least. 

"Her beauty is positively creamy!" he murmured to himself. 

At sight of her Keith crossed directly to her, full of a sudden, engaging, tender solicitude. 

"How are you feeling now, honey?" he inquired. "Quite recovered? All rightnow?"

But Nan was inclined to be a little vexed and reproachful. She had beenleft alone, with strangers, altogether too long. Keith excused himselfvolubly and convincingly--she had been asleep--she was much better off notbeing disturbed--that this was true was proven by results--she wasblooming, positively blooming--as fresh as a rose leaf--of course it wasrather an imposition on the Sherwoods, but the baggage hadn't come up yet, and they were kind people, our sort, the sort for whom the word obligationdid not exist--he, personally, had not intended being gone so long, but bythe rarest of chances he had run across some of the men to whom, he hadintroductions, and they had been most kind in making him acquainted--nothing was more important to a young lawyer than to "establishconnections"--it did not do to overlook a chance. 

He urged all this, and more, with all his usual, vital, enthusiastic force. In spite of herself, she was overborne to a reproachful forgiveness. 

In the meantime Mrs. Sherwood had gone over to where Ben Sansome was stillstanding by the door. Sansome did not like Mrs. Sherwood. He consideredthat she had no social tact at all. This was mainly--though he did notanalyze it--because she was quite apt to speak the direct and literal truthto him; because she had a disquieting self-confidence and competence inplace of appropriate, graceful, feminine dependence; but especially becauseshe had never and would never play up to his game. 

"Are you making a formal afternoon call, Ben?" she asked in her cool, mocking voice. "Aren't you really a little _de trop?_"

"I did not come of my own volition at this time, I assure you, " he replieda trifle stiffly. The thought that he was suspected of a blunder in socialcustom stung him; as, in a rather lazily amused way, she knew it would. 

At this reply she glanced keenly toward Keith, then nodded; slowly. 

"I see, " she conceded. 

Sansome moved to go. But at this Keith's attention was attracted. He sprangforward, seized Sansome's arm, insisted on introducing him to Nan, wasover-effusive, over-cordial, buoyant. Both Sansome and Mrs. Sherwood wereexperienced enough to yield entirely to his mood. They understood perfectlythat at the least opposition Keith was in just the condition to revealhimself, perhaps, to break over the frail barrier that separatesexhilaration from loss of self-control. They saw also that Nan had nosuspicion of the state of affairs. Indeed, following the reaction from herlong voyage and her illness, she responded and played up to Keith's highspirits. Neither wanted her to grasp the situation if it could be avoided:Mrs. Sherwood from genuine good feeling, Sansome because of the socialawkwardness and bad taste. Besides, he felt that his presence at such ascene would be a very bad beginning for himself. 

"No, you're not going, " Keith was insisting; "you don't realize what acelebration this is! Here we've pulled up all our roots, haven't we, Nan?and come thousands of miles to a new country, a wonderful country; and thevery first day of our landing you want us to act as though nothing hadhappened!"

Nan nodded a vigorous assent to his implied reference to her. 

"And what we're going to do is to celebrate, " insisted Keith. "You're allgoing to dine with us. No, I insist! You're the only friends we have outhere, and you aren't going to desert us the very first day we need you. "

"I wish you would!" cried Nan, sitting forward eagerly. 

They tried to expostulate, to get out of it, but without avail. It seemedeasier to promise. Keith rushed out to look for his baggage, to arrange forrooms, leaving the three together to await his return. 

VI

Both Mrs. Sherwood and Sansome applied themselves to relieving whateverembarrassment Nan might feel over this unusual situation. Sansome waspossessed of great charm and social experience. He could play the game oflight conversation to perfection. By way of bridging the pause in events, he set himself to describing the society in which the Keiths would shortlyfind themselves launched. His remarks were practically a monologue, interspersed by irrepressible gurgles of laughter from Nan. Mrs. Sherwoodsat quietly by. She did not laugh, but it was evident she was amused. Inthis congenial atmosphere Sansome outdid himself. 

"They are all afraid of each other, " he told her, "because they don't knowanything about each other. Each ex-washerwoman thinks the other ex-washerwoman must have been at least a duchess at home. It's terribly funny. If they can get hold of six porcelain statuettes, a half-dozenantimacassars, some gilt chairs, and a glass bell of wax flowers, theyimagine they're elegantly furnished. And their functions! I give you myword, I'd as soon attend a reasonably pleasant funeral! Some of them try toentertain by playing intellectual games--you know, rhyming or spellinggames--seriously!" He went on to describe some of the women, mentioning nonames, however. "You'll recognize them when you meet them, " he assured her. "There's one we'll call the Social Agitator--she isn't happy unless she isrunning things. I believe she spent two weeks once in London--or else shebuys her boots there--anyway, when discussions get lively she squelchesthem by saying, 'Of course, my dear, that may be absolutely _au fait_ inNew York--but in London--' It corks them up every time. And 'pon honour, three quarters of the time she's quite wrong! Then there's the Lady Thug, Square jaw, square shoulder, sort of bulging out at the top--you know--indécolleté one cannot help thinking 'one more struggle and she'll be free!'"

"Oh, fie, Mr. Sansome, " laughed Nan, half shocked. 

Sansome rattled on. The ultimate effect was to convey an impression of SanFrancisco society--such as existed at all--as stodgy, stupid, pretentious, unattractive. Nan was immensely amused, but inclined to take it all with agrain of salt. 

"Mrs. Sherwood doesn't bear you out, " she told him, "and she's the only oneI've seen yet. I think we're going to have a pretty good time. "

But at this point Keith returned. He was quite sobered from his temporaryexhilaration, but still most cordial and enthusiastic over his littleparty, Sansome noted with quiet amusement that his light curly hair wasdamp. Evidently he had taken his own prescription as to the pump. 

"Well, " he announced, "I have a room--such as it is. Can't say much for it. The baggage is all here; nothing missing for a wonder. I've spoken to themanager about dinner for five. " He turned to Nan with brightening interest. "Guess what I saw on the bill of fare! Grizzly bear steak! Think of that! Iordered some. "

Sansome groaned comically. 

"What's the matter?" inquired Keith. 

"Did you ever try it before? Tough, stringy, unfit for human consumption. "

But Keith was fascinated by the name of the thing. 

"There's plenty else, " he urged defensively, "and I always try everythingonce. "

It was agreed that they should all meet again after an hour. Sansomerenewed his promises to be on hand. 

The room Keith had engaged was on the second story, and quite a differentsort of affair from that of the Sherwoods'. Indeed it was little more thana pine box, containing only the bare necessities. One window looked out onan unkempt backyard, now mercifully hidden by darkness. 

"This is pretty tough, " said Keith, "but it is the very best I could do. And the price is horrible. We'll have to hunt up a living place about thefirst thing we do. "

"Oh, it's all right, " said Nan indifferently. The lassitude of seasicknesshad left her, and the excitement of new surroundings was beginning. Shefelt gently stirred by the give and take of the light conversation in theSherwoods' room; and, although she did not quite realize it, she wasresponding to the stimulation of having made a good impression. Hersubconscious self was perfectly aware that in the silken negligée, underthe pink-shaded lamp, her clear soft skin, the pure lines of her radiantchildlike beauty, the shadows of her tumbled hair, had been very appealingand effective. She moved about a trifle restlessly, looking at thingswithout seeing them. "I'm glad to see the brown trunk. Open it, will you, dear? Heavens, what a mirror!" She surveyed herself in the flawed glass, moving from side to side, fascinated at the strange distortions. 

"I call it positive extortion, charging what they do for a room like this, "grumbled Keith, busy at the trunk. "The Sherwoods must pay a mint of moneyfor theirs. I wonder what he does!"

Her attention attracted by this subject, she arrested her posing before themirror. 

"They certainly are quick to take the stranger in, " she commented lightly. 

Something in her tone arrested Keith's attention, and he stopped fussing athis keys. Nan had meant little by the remark. It had expressed the vagueinstinctive recoil of the woman brought up in rather conventionalcircumstances and in a conservative community from too sudden intimacy, nothing more. She did not herself understand this. 

"Don't you like the Sherwoods?" he instantly demanded, with the masculineinsistence on dissecting every butterfly. 

"Why, she's charming!" said Nan, opening her eyes in surprise. "Of course, I like her immensely!"

"I should think so, " grumbled Keith. "They certainly have been mighty goodto us. "

But Nan had dropped her negligée about her feet, and was convulsed at thefigure made of her slim young body by the distorted mirror. 

"Come here, Milt, " she gasped. 

She clung to him, gurgling with laughter, pointing one shaking finger atthe monstrosity in the glass. 

"Look--look what you married!"

They dressed gayly. His optimism and enthusiasm boiled over again. It was ashame, his leaving her all that afternoon, he reiterated; but she had noidea what giant strides he had made. He told her of the city, and heenumerated some of the acquaintances he had made--Calhoun Bennett, BertTaylor, Major Marmaduke Miles, Michael Rowlee, Judge Caldwell, and others. They had been most cordial to him, most kind; they had taken him in withoutdelay. 

"It's the spirit of the West, Nan, " he cried, "hospitable, unsuspicious, free, eager to welcome! Oh, this is going to be the place for me;opportunity waits at every corner. They are not tied down by conventions, by the way somebody else has done things--"

He went on rapidly to detail to her some of the things he had been told--the contemplated public improvements, the levelling of the sand hills, thebuilding of a city out of nothing. 

"Why, Nan, do you realize that only four years ago this very Plaza had onlysix small buildings around it, that there were only three two-storystructures in town, that the population was only about five hundred--thereare thirty-five thousand now, that--" he rattled on, detailing his recentlyacquired statistics. Oh, potent influence of the Western spirit--already, eight hours after his landing on California's shores, Milton Keith was a"booster. "

With an expansion of relief that only a woman could fully appreciate, Nanunpacked and put on a frock that had nothing whatever to do with the seavoyage, and which she had not for some time seen. In ordinary accustomedcircumstances she would never have thought of donning so elaborate atoilette for a hotel dining-room, but she was yielding to reaction. In herway she was "celebrating, " just as was Keith. Her hair she did low afterthe fashion of the time, and bound it to her brow by a bandeau of pearls. The gown itself was pale green and filmy. It lent her a flowerlikesemblance that was very fresh and lovely. 

"By Jove, Nan, you certainly have recovered from the sea!" cried Keith, andinsisted on kissing her. 

"Look how you've mussed me all up!" chided Nan, but without irritation. 

They found the other three waiting for them, and without delay entered thedining-room. This, as indeed all the lower story, was in marked contrast ofluxury with the bare pine bedrooms upstairs. Long red velvet curtains, heldback by tasselled silken cords, draped the long windows; fluted columns atregular intervals upheld the ceiling; the floor was polished and slippery;the tables shone with white and silver. An obese and tremendous darkey inswallowtail waved a white-gloved hand at them, turned ponderously, andpreceded them down the aisle with the pomp of a drum major. His dignity wascolossal, awe inspiring, remote. Their progress became a procession, atriumphal procession, such as few of Caesar's generals had ever known. Arrived at the predestined table, he stood one side while menials drew outthe chairs. Then he marched tremendously back to the main door, his chinhigh, his expression haughty, his backbone rigid. This head waiter was thefeature of the Bella Union Hotel, just as the glass columns were thefeature of the Empire, or the clockwork mechanism of the El Dorado. 

The dinner itself went well. Everybody seemed to be friendly and at ease, but by one of those strange and sudden social transitions it was rathersubdued. This was for various reasons. Nan Keith, after her brief reaction, found herself again suffering from the lassitude and fatigue of a longvoyage; she needed a night's rest and knew it. Keith himself was a triflesleepy as an after affect to the earlier drinking. Sherwood was naturallyreserved and coolly observing; Mrs. Sherwood was apparently somehow onguard; and Sansome, as always, took his tone from those about him. The wildspirits of the hour before had taken their flight. It was, however, apleasant dinner--without constraint, as among old friends. After the mealthey went to the public parlour, a splendid but rather dismal place. Sherwood almost immediately excused himself. After a short and somewhatawkward interval, Nan decided she would go to bed for her needed rest. 

"You won't think me rude, I know. " said she. 

Keith, whose buoyant temper had been sadly divided between a genuine wishto do the proper and dutiful thing by his wife and a great desire to seemore of this fascinating city, rose with so evident an alacrity underrestraint that Mrs. Sherwood scarcely, concealed a smile. She said heradieux at the same time, and left the room, troubling herself only to theextent of that ancient platitude about "letters to write. "

VII

"I think we'll find most of the proper crowd down at the Empire, " observedSansome as the two picked their way across the Plaza. "That is one of thefew old-fashioned, respectable gambling places left to us. The town is notwhat it used to be in a sporting way. It was certainly wide open in thegood old days!"

The streets at night were ill lighted, except where a blaze of illuminationpoured from the bigger saloons. The interims were dark, and the sidestreets and alleys stygian. "None too safe, either, " Sansome understatedthe case. Many people were abroad, but Keith noticed that there seemed tobe no idlers; every one appeared to be going somewhere in particular. Aftera short stroll they entered the Empire, which, Sansome explained, was themost stylish and frequented gambling place in town, a sort of evening clubfor the well-to-do and powerful. Keith looked over a very large room orhall, at the lower end of which an alcove made a sort of raised stage withfootlights. Here sat a dozen "nigger minstrels" with banjos strumming, andbawling away at top pressure. An elaborate rosewood bar ran down the wholelength at one side--an impressive polished bar, perhaps sixty feet long, with a white-clad, immaculate barkeeper for every ten feet of it. Bigmirrors of French plate reflected the whole room, and on the shelf in frontof them glittered crystal glasses of all shapes and sizes, arranged inpyramids and cubes. The whole of the main floor was carpeted heavily. Downthe centre were stationed two rows of gambling tables, where various gamescould be played--faro, keeno, roulette, stud poker, dice. Beyond thesegambling tables, on the other side of the room from the bar, were smalltables, easy chairs of ample proportions, lounges, and a fireplace. Everything was most ornate. The ceilings and walls were ivory white andmuch gilt. Heavy chandeliers, with the usual glass prisms and globes, revolved slowly or swayed from side to side. Huge oil paintings with shadedtop and foot-lights occupied all vacant spaces in the walls. They were"valued" at from ten to thirty thousand dollars apiece, and that fact wasadvertised. "Leda and the Swan, " "The Birth of Venus, " "The Rape of theSabines, " "Cupid and Psyche" were some of the classic themes treated ashaving taken place in a warm climate. "Susannah and the Elders" and "SalomeDancing" gave the Biblical flavour. The "Bath of the Harem" finished thecollection. No canvas was of less size than seven by ten feet. 

The floor was filled with people. A haze of blue smoke hung in the air. There was no loud noise except from the minstrel stage at the end. A lowhum of talk, occasionally accented, buzzed continuously. Many of the peoplewandering about, leaning against the bar, or integers of the compact groupsaround the gambling tables, were dressed in the height of fashion; but, onthe other hand, certainly half were in the roughest sort of clothes--floppyold slouch hats, worn flannel shirts, top boots to which dried mud wasclinging. These men were as well treated as the others. 

Fascinated, Keith would, have liked to linger, but Sansome threaded his waytoward the farther corner. As Keith passed near one of the close groupsaround a gambling table, it parted momentarily, and he looked into the eyesof the man in charge, cold, passionless, aloof, eyes neither friendly norunfriendly. And he saw the pale skin; the weary, bored, immobile features;the meticulous neat dress; the long, deft fingers; and caught thewithdrawn, deadly, exotic personality of the professional gambler on duty. 

The whole place was unlike anything he had ever seen before. Whether it wasprimarily a bar, a gambling resort, or a sort of a public club withtrimmings, he could not have determined. Many of those present, perhaps amajority, were neither gambling, nor drinking; they seemed not to be addingto the profits of the place in any way, but either wandered about or sat inthe easy chairs, smoking, reading papers, or attending to the occasionaloutbreaks of the minstrels. It was most interesting. 

They joined a group in the far corner. A white-clad negro instantly broughtthem chairs, and hovered discreetly near. Among those sitting about Keithrecognized several he had met in the afternoon; and to several more he wasintroduced. Of these the one who most instantly impressed him was calledMorrell. This was evidently a young Englishman, a being of a type raisedquite abundantly in England, but more rarely seen in native Americans--thelean-faced, rather flat-cheeked, high-cheek-boned, aquiline-nosed, florid-complexioned, silent, clean-built sort that would seem to represent thehigh-bred, finely drawn product of a long social evolution. These traitswhen seen in the person of a native-born American generally do representthis fineness; but the English, having been longer at the production oftheir race, can often produce the outward semblance without necessarily theinner reality. Many of us even now do not quite realize that fact;certainly in 1852 most of us did not. Morrell was dressed in ridingbreeches, carried a short bamboo crop, smiled engagingly to exhibit even, strong, white teeth, and had little to say. 

"A beverage seems called for, " remarked Judge Caldwell, a gross, explosive, tobacco-chewing man, with a merry, reckless eye. The order given, theconversation swung back to the topic that had occupied it before Keith andSansome had arrived. 

It seemed that an individual there present, Markle by name--a tall, histrionic, dark man with a tossing mane--conceived himself to have beeninsulted by some one whose name Keith did not catch, and had that veryafternoon issued warning that he would "shoot on sight. " Some of the oldermen were advising him to go slow. 

"But, gentlemen, " cried Markle heatedly, "none of you would stand suchconduct from anybody! What are we coming to? I'll get that----as sure asGod made little apples. "

"That's all right; I don't blame yo', " argued Calhoun. Bennett. "Do notmisunderstand me, suh. I agree with yo', lock, stock, an' barrel. My pointis that yo' must be circumspect. Challenge him, that's the way. "

"He isn't worth my challenge, sir, nor the challenge of any decent man. Youknow that, sir, "

"Well, street shootings have got to be a little, a little----"

He fell silent, and Keith, looked up in surprise to see why. A man wasslowly passing the table. He was a thick, tall, strong man, moving with afreedom that bespoke smoothly working muscles. His complexion was florid;and this, in conjunction with a sweeping blue-black moustache, gave himexactly the appearance of a gambler or bartender. Only as he passed thetable and responded gravely to the formal salutes, Keith caught a flash ofhis eye. It was gray, hard as steel, forceful, but so far from being coldit seemed to glow and change with an inner fire, The bartender impressionwas swept into limbo forever. 

"That's one good reason why, " said Calhoun Bennett, when this man had goneon. 

But Markle overflowed with a torrent of vituperative profanity. His facewas congested and purple with the violence of his emotions. Keith stared inastonishment at the depth of hatred stirred. He turned for explanation tothe man next him, Judge Girvin, a gentleman of the old school, weighty, authoritative, a little pompous. 

"That is Coleman, " Judge Girvin told him. "W. T. Coleman, the leader of thevigilance movement of last year. "

"That's why, " repeated Calhoun Bennett, with quiet vindictiveness, "lawlessness, disrespect foh law and order, mob rule. Since this stranglerbusiness, no man can predict what the lawless element may do!"

This speech was the signal for an outburst against the Vigilance Committee, so unanimous and hearty that Keith was rather taken aback. He voiced hisbewilderment. 

"Why, gentlemen, I am, of course, only in the most distant touch with theseevents; but the impression East is certainly very general that theVigilantes did rather a good piece of work in clearing the city of crime. "

They turned on him with a savagery that took his breath. Keith, laughing, held up both hands. 

"Don't shoot, don't shoot! I'll come down!" he cried. "I told you I didn'tknow anything about it!"

They checked themselves, suddenly ashamed of their heat. Calhoun Bennettvoiced their feeling of apology. 

"Yo' must accept our excuses, Mr, Keith, but this is a mattah on which wefeel strongly. Our indignation was naturally not directed against yo', suh. "

But Judge Girvin, ponderous, formal, dignified, was making a pronouncement. 

"Undoubtedly, young sir, " he rolled forth at Keith, "undoubtedly a greatmany scoundrels were cleared from the city at that time. That no one wouldhave the temerity to deny. But you, sir, as a lawyer, realize with us thateven pure and equitable justice without due process of law is against theinterests of society as a coherent whole. Infringement of law, even for agood purpose, invariably brings about ultimate contempt, for all law. Inthe absence of regularly constituted tribunals, as in a primitive society--such as that prior to the Constitutional Convention of September, 1849--itmay become necessary that informal plebiscites be countenanced. But in thepresence of regularly constituted and appointed tribunals, extra-legalfunctions are not to be undertaken by the chance comer. If defects occur inthe administration of the law, the remedy is in the hand of the public. Thevoter----" he went on at length, elaborating the legal view. Everybodylistened with respect and approval until he had finished. But then up spokeJudge Caldwell, the round, shining, perspiring, untidy, jovial, Silenus-like jurist with the blunt fingers. 

"We all agree with you theoretically, Judge, " said he. "What these otherfellows object to, I imagine, is that the law has such a hell of a hangfire to it. "

Judge Girvin's eyes flashed, and he tossed back his white mane. "The dueforms of the law are our heritage from the ages!" he thundered back. "Theso-called delays and technicalities are the checks devised by humanexperience against the rash judgments and rasher actions by the volatileelement of society! They are the safeguards, the bulwarks of society! It isbetter that a hundred guilty men escape than that one innocent man shouldsuffer!"

The old judge was magnificent, his eyes alight, his nostrils expanded, hishead reared back defiantly, all the great power of his magnetism and hisauthority brought to bear. Keith was thrilled. He considered that thediscussion had been lifted to a high moral plane. 

By rights Judge Caldwell should have been crushed, but he seemedundisturbed, "Well, " he remarked comfortably, "on that low average we must have quite afew innocent men among us after all. "

"What do you mean, sir?" demanded Judge Girvin, halted in mid career andnot catching the allusion. 

"Surely, Judge, you don't mean to imply that you endorse Coleman and hisgang?" put in Calhoun Bennett courteously but incredulously. 

"Endorse them? Certainly not!" disclaimed Caldwell. "I need my job, " headded with a chuckle. 

Bennett tossed back his hair, and a faint disgust appeared in his darkeyes, but he said nothing more. Caldwell lit a cigar with pudgy fingers. 

"My advice to you, " he said to Markle, "is that if you think you're goingto have to kill this man in self-defence"--he rolled an unabashed andcomical eye at the company--"you be sure to see our old friend, SheriffWebb, gets you to jail promptly. " He heaved to his feet, "Might even sendhim advance word, " he suggested, and waddled away toward the bar. 

A dead silence succeeded his departure. None of the younger men ventured aword. Finally Judge Girvin, with a belated idea of upholding the honour ofthe bench, turned to Keith. 

"Judge Caldwell's humour is a little trying at times, but he isessentially sound. "

The young Englishman, Morrell, uttered a high cackle. 

"Quite right, " he observed; "he'll fix it all right for you, Markle. "

At the bad taste of what they thought an example of English stupidity everyone sat aghast. Keith managed to cover the situation by ordering anotherround of drinks. Morrell seemed quite pleased with himself. 

"Got a rise out of the old Johnny, what?" he remarked to Keith aside. 

Judge Caldwell returned. The conversation became general. Vast projectswere discussed with the light touch--public works, the purchase of atheatre for the town hall, the sale by auction of city or state lands, theextension of wharves, the granting of franchises, and many other affairs, involving, apparently, millions of money. All these things were spoken ofas from the inside. Keith, sipping his drinks quietly, sat apart andlistened. He felt himself in the current of big affairs. Occasionally, mensauntered by, paused a moment. Keith noticed that they greeted hiscompanions with respect and deference. He experienced a feeling of being atthe centre of things. The evening drifted by pleasantly. 

Along toward midnight, John Sherwood, without a hat, stopped long enough toexchange a few joking remarks, then sauntered on. 

"I know him, " Keith told Calhoun Bennett. "That's John Sherwood. He's atour hotel. What does _he_ do?"

"Oh, don't you know who he is?" replied Bennett. "He's the owner of thisplace. "

"A gambler?" cried Keith, a trifle dashed. 

"Biggest in town. But square. "

Keith for a moment was a little nonplussed. The sudden intimacy rose up toconfront him. They were kind people, and Mrs. Sherwood was apparentlyeverything she should be--but a public gambler! Of course he had noprejudices--but Nan--

VIII

Keith returned to the hotel very late, and somewhat exalted. He wasbubbling over with good stories, interesting information, and ideas; so heawakened Nan, and sat on the edge of the bed, and proceededenthusiastically to tell her all about it. She was very sleepy. Also anexasperated inhabitant of the next room pounded on the thin partition. Reluctantly Keith desisted. It took him some time to get to sleep, as theexcitement was seething in his veins. 

He came to consciousness after a restless night. The sun was streaming inat the window. He felt dull and heavy, with a slight headache and aweariness in all his muscles. Worst of all, Nan, in a ravishing pink fluffyaffair, was bending over him, her eyes dancing with amusement and mischief. 

"And how is my little madcap this morning?" she inquired with mocksolicitude. This stung Keith to some show of energy, and he got up. 

The sun was really very bright. A dash of cold water made him feel better. Enthusiasm began to flow back like a tide. The importance of the eveningbefore reasserted its claims on his imagination. As he dressed he told Nanall about it. In the midst of a glowing eulogy of their prospects, hechecked himself with a chuckle. 

"Guess what the Sherwoods are, " said he. 

Nan, who had been half listening up to this time, gave him her wholeattention. 

"A gambler! A common gambler!" she repeated after him, a little dismayed. 

"I felt the same way for a minute or so, " he answered her tone cheerfully. "But after all I remembered--you must remember--that society here is verymixed. And anyway, Sherwood is no 'common gambler'; I should say he was amost _un_common gambler!" He chuckled at his little joke. "All sorts ofpeople are received here. We've got to get used to that. And certainly noone could hope anywhere to find nicer--more presentable--people. "

She nodded, but with a reservation. 

"Surely nowhere would you find kinder people, " went on Keith. "See how theytook us in!"

"Look out they don't take you in, Milton, " she interjected suddenly. 

Keith, brought up short, sobered at this. 

"That is unjust, Nan, " he said gravely. 

She said nothing, but showed no signs of having been convinced. After herfirst need had passed, Nan Keith's natural reserve had asserted itself. This was the result of heredity and training, as part of herself, somethingshe could not help. Its tendency was always to draw back from too great ortoo sudden intimacies. There was nothing snobbish in this; it was a sort ofinstinct, a natural reaction. She liked Mrs. Sherwood, admired her slow, complete poise, approved her air of breeding and the things by which shehad surrounded herself. The older woman's kindness had struck in her a deepchord of appreciation. But somehow circumstances had hurried her too much. Her defensive antagonism, not to Mrs. Sherwood as a person, but to suddenintimacy as such, had been aroused. It had had, in her own mind, no excuse. She knew she ought to be grateful and cordial; she felt that she was notquite ready. The fact that the Sherwoods had proved to be "common gamblers"gave just the little excuse her conscience needed to draw back a trifle. This, it should be added, was also quite instinctive, not at all aformulated thought. 

She said nothing for some time; then remarked mysteriously:

"Perhaps that's why they go to meet boats. "

Keith, who was miles beyond the Sherwoods by now, looked bewildered. 

Keith had letters of business introduction to Palmer, Cook & Co. , a bankingfirm powerful and respected at the time, but destined to become involved inscandal. The most pressing need, both he and Nan had determined, was ahouse of their own; the hotel was at once uncomfortable and expensive. Accordingly a callow, chipper, self-confident, blond little clerk wasassigned to show them about. He had arrived from the East only six monthsago; but this was six months earlier than the Keiths, so he put on all theairs of an old-timer. In a two-seated calash, furnished by the bankers, they drove to the westerly part of the town. The plank streets soon ran outinto sand or rutty earth roads. These bored their way relentlessly betweensand hills in the process of removal. Steam paddies coughed and clanked inall directions. Many houses had, by these operations, been left perchedhigh and dry far above the grade of the new streets. Often the sand wascrumbling away from beneath their outer corners. All sorts of nondescriptramshackle and temporary stairs had been improvised to get theirinhabitants in or out. The latter seemed to be clinging to their tenementsas long as possible. 

"They often cave in, " explained the clerk, "and the whole kit and kaboodlecomes sailing down into the street. Sometimes it happens at night, " headded darkly. 

"But isn't anybody hurt?" cried Nan. 

"Lots of 'em, " replied the clerk cheerfully "Git dap!"

They now executed a flank attack on the "fashionable" quarter of the town. 

"They're grading the street down below, " the clerk justified his roundaboutcourse. 

Here were a number of isolated, scattered wooden houses, of some size andof much scroll and jigsaw work. Some of them had little ornamental ironfencelets running along their ridgepoles, or lightning rods on the chimneysor at the corners, although thunderstorms were practically unknown. Theclerk at once began to talk of these as "mansions. " He drew up before oneof them, hitched the horse, and invited his clients to descend. Nan lookedat the exterior a trifle doubtfully. It was a high-peaked, slender house, drawn together as though it felt cold; with carved wooden panels over eachwindow, miniature balconies with elaborate spindly columns beneath, and ahaughty, high, narrow porch partially clothing a varnished front doorflanked with narrow strips of coloured glass. 

The clerk produced a key. The interior also was high and narrow. Muchglistening varnish characterized the front hall. They inspected one afteranother the various rooms. The house was partly furnished. In the showroomshung heavy red curtains held back by cords with gilt tassels. Eachfireplace was framed by a mantel of white marble. But the glory was thedrawing-room. This had been frescoed in pale blue, and all about the walland even across part of the ceiling had been draped festoon after festoonof fishnet. Only this was not real fishnet, as a closer inspection showed. It had been cunningly painted! In the dim light, and to a person with anoptimistic imagination, the illusion was almost perfect. Nan chokedsuddenly at the sight of this; then her eyes widened to a baby stare, andshe become preternaturally solemn. 

They looked it all over from top to bottom; the clerk fairly tiptoeingabout with the bent-backed air of one who handles a precious jade vase. From the front windows he showed them a really magnificent view, with theblue waters of the bay shining, and the Contra Costa shore shimmering inthe haze. 

"In the residence next door to the west dwell most desirable neighbours, "he urged, "the Morrells. They are English, or at least he is. "

"I met him last night, " said Keith to Nan; "he looked like a good sort. "

"Who is in the big house over there?" asked Nan, indicating a veryelaborate structure diagonally opposite. 

"That--oh, that--well, that is in rather a state of transition, as itwere, " stammered the little clerk, and at once rattled on about somethingelse. This magnificent mansion, he explained, was the only one Palmer, Cook& Co. Had on their lists for the moment. 

Therefore he drove them back to the Bella Union. Keith departed with him tolook up a suitable office downtown, Nan bowed solemnly to his solemn salutation in farewell, and turned asquickly as she could to the interior of the hotel. Sherwood sat in hisaccustomed place, his big steel spectacles on his nose, his paper spreadout before him. He arose and bowed. She nodded, but did not pause. Onceinside the hall, she picked up her skirts and fairly flew up the stairs toher room. Slamming the door shut, she locked it, then sank on the edge ofthe bed and laughed--laughed until she wiped the tears from her cheeks, rocking back and forth and hugging herself in an ecstasy. Every few momentsshe would pull up; then some unconsidered enormity would strike her afreshand she would go off into another paroxysm. After a while, much relieved, she wiped her eyes and arose. 

"This place will be the death of me yet, " she told her distorted image inthe mirror. 

She rummaged in one of her trunks, produced writing materials, and starteda letter to an Eastern friend. This occupied her fully for two hours. Atthat period it was customary to "indite epistles" with a "literaryflavour, " a practice that immensely tickled those who did the inditing. Nanbecame wholly interested and quite pleased with herself. Her firstimpressions, she found when she came to write them down, were stimulatingand interesting. She was full of enthusiasm; but had she been capable of areal analysis she would have found it quite different from Keith'senthusiasm. She looked on this strange, uncouth, vital city from theoutside, from the superior standpoint. She appreciated it as she would haveappreciated the "quaintness" of the villagers in some foreign town. 

About noon Keith returned. 

"I've looked into every possibility, " he told her. "Honest, Nan, I don'tsee exactly what we are to do unless we build for ourselves. That Boylehouse is the only house in town for rent--that is of any size and in arespectable quarter. You see they are too new out here to have built housesfor rent yet; and if you find any vacant at all, it is sheer good fortune. Of course to stay in this little box is impossible, and--"

She had been contemplating him, her eyes dancing with amusement. 

"You've taken it!" she accused him. 

"Well--I--yes, " he admitted, a little red. 

She laughed. 

"I knew it, " she said. "When can we move in? I want to get started. "

IX

Keith's first plunge into the teeming life of the place had to suffice himfor all the rest of that week. There seemed so many pressing things to doat home. The Boyle house was only partly furnished. Each morning he and Nanwent downtown and prospected for things needed. This was Nan's firstexperience of the sort; and she confessed to a ludicrous surprise over thefact that pots, pans, brooms, kitchen utensils, and such homely matters hadto be thought of and bought. 

"I had a sort of notion they grew on the premises, " she said. 

Mrs. Sherwood gave them much valuable advice, particularly as to auctions. In the Keiths limited experience auctions generally had meant cheap orsecond-hand articles, but out here the reverse was the case. A madnesspossessed otherwise conservative Eastern merchants--especially of the staidcity of Boston--to send out on speculation immense cargoes of all sorts ofgoods. These were the despair of consignees. Heavy freights, high interestcharges, tremendous warehouse rates, speedily ate up whatever chance ofprofits a fresh consignment might have. The only solution was to sell outas promptly as possible; and the quickest method was the auction. Therefore, auctions were everywhere in progress, and the professionalauctioneers were a large, influential, and skilful class of people. Theiradvertisements made the bulk of the newspapers. They dressed well, carriedan air of consequence, furnished refreshments, brass bands, or otherentertainments to their patrons. The era of fabulous prices was at an end, but the era of wild speculation as to what the public was going to want wasin full tide. Keith and Nan found these auctions great fun, and piece bypiece they accumulated the items of their house furnishing. It was slowwork, but amusing. At times Mrs. Sherwood accompanied them, but not often. Her advice was always good. 

As to Mrs. Sherwood, Nan Keith found her attitude very vague. There was nodoubt that she liked her personally, admired her slow, purposeful, half-indolent movements, the poise of her small, patrician head, theunconscious, easy grace of her body, the direct commonsense quality of hermind. One met her face to face; there were no frills and furbelows of thespirit. Also, Nan was grateful for the other woman's first kindness andreal sympathy, and she wanted to "play the game. " But, on the other hand, all her social training and her instinct of formalism tended to hold heraloof. She blamed herself intellectually for this feeling; but since it wasa feeling, and had nothing to do with intellect, it persisted. 

In the auction rooms, also, she seemed to meet--be formally introduced to--a bewildering number of people, most of whom she could not place at all. There seemed to be no reason for meeting them; certainly she would not havemet them in the East. Nevertheless, they all shook her by the hand, andbowed to her whenever subsequently they passed her on the street. Keithtold her this was all usual and proper in this new and mixed social order;and she was perfectly willing to make the effort. She was really charmingto everybody. The consciousness that she was successfully adapting herselfto their primitive provincial scope, and her very gracious condescension toall types, filled her with respect for her democracy and breadth of mind. 

The afternoon they spent at the house receiving boxes and packages. Keithworked busily, happily, feverishly, in his shirt sleeves. He attacked thejob on the principle of a whirlwind campaign, hammering, ripping, throwingpapers down, deciding instantly where this or that chair or table was tostand, tearing on to the next, enjoying himself dustily and hugely. 

Nan was more leisurely. She found time to gossip with the drayman whobrought up the goods, actually came to a liking and a warm friendly feelingfor him as a person. This was a new experience for Nan, and she explored itcuriously. 

John McGlynn was a teamster, but likewise a thoroughly independent andcapable citizen. He was of the lank, hewn, lean-faced, hawk-nosed type, deliberate in movement and speech, with a twinkling, contemplative, appraising eye, and an unhurried drawl. He told Nan he had come out in '49. 

"No, ma'am, " he disclaimed vigorously, "I didn't go to the mines. I am ateamster, and I always did teaming. " He did not add, as he might have done, that in those days of the individual he had been an important influence. 

His great pride was his team and wagon, and that pride was justified. Thewagon was a heavy flat affair, gayly decorated, and on the sides of the boxwere paintings of landscapes. The horses were great, magnificent creatures, with arching thick necks, long wavy manes and forelocks, soft, intelligenteyes, and with great hoofs and hairy fetlocks. They carried themselves inconscious pride, Their harness was heavy with silver and with many whiteand coloured rings. In colour they were dapple gray. 

"That team, " said John McGlynn, "is a perfect match. Took me two years toget them together. Wuth a mint of money. That Kate, there, is a regularcharacter. You'd be surprised how cute she is. I often wonder who Kate_is_. She must be some very famous woman. "

John McGlynn was a very wonderful and very accommodating person, Nanthought. He would help carry things in, and was willing to unpack or tocarry out the mess Keith's mad career left behind, it. Also he cast an eyeon the garden possibilities, and issued friendly, expert advice to whichNan listened, breathless. They held long intimate consultations as to thetreatment of the soil. 

"A few posies does sort of brighten things up; they're wuth while, " quothJohn. 

Without previous consultation, he appeared one day accompanied by a rotund, bland, gorgeous Chinaman, perched beside him on his elevated seat. 

"This is Wing Woh, a friend of mine, " he announced. "You got to have aChink, of course. You can't run that sized house without help. Wing knowsall the Chinks in town, and bosses about half of them. "

Wing Woh descended and without a word walked into the house. He was a veryornate person, dressed in a skull cap with a red coral button atop, abrocaded pale lavendar tunic of silk, baggy pale green trousers tied closearound the ankles, snow-white socks and the typical shoe. Gravely, solemnly, methodically he went over the entire house; then returned andclambered up beside John. 

"All light, " he vouchsafed to the astonished Nan. 

Next morning she found waiting on the veranda a smiling "china boy" dressedall in clean white. A small cloth bundle lay at his feet. 

"My name Wing Sam, " he announced; "I wo'k you thi'ty dolla' month. Whereyou keep him bloom?"

That day John McGlynn stopped after unloading his boxes to give a littleadvice. 

"Chinks are queer, " said he. "When you show this fellow how to do anything, be sure to show him right, because that's the way he's going to do itforever after. You can't change him. And show him; don't tell him. And lethim do things his own way as much as you can, instead of insisting on yourway. "

McGlynn also advised Keith as to where he could to the best advantage hirea horse and buggy by the month. 

"You want a good safe animal, so Mrs. Keith can drive him; but you don'twant a cow. Jump aboard and I'll take you around. Never mind your coat, " hetold Keith, "it's warm. "

So they "jumped aboard" and drove down the street. Nan gurgled withamusement over the episode. She sat on the high seat beside John McGlynn'slank figure, above the broad backs of the great horses; and Keith in hisshirtsleeves, his hair every which way, a smudge of black across his nose, balanced in the flat dray body behind. Nan tried to imagine the sensationthey would create in Baltimore, and laughed aloud. 

"Is sort of funny, " commented John McGlynn sympathetically. "But everythinggoes out here. "

Nan, aghast at the uncanny perspicacity of the man, choked silently. In herworld there had always been a sort of vague, unexpressed feeling that the"lower classes" were dull. 

They used the horse and buggy a great deal. It was delivered at the hoteldoor every morning and taken from the same place every evening. Innumerableerrands downtown for things forgotten kept it busy. At night they returnedto the hotel pretty well tired out. It was a tremendous task, much as theymight be enjoying it. 

"Seems to me the more we do the worse it gets, " said Keith. "Let's dig somesort of a hole and move in anyway. "

"In a few days, " agreed Nan, who as general-in-chief had a much cleareridea of the actual state of affairs than the dusty private. 

X

One morning the accumulated fatigue had its way, and they oversleptscandalously. It was after ten o'clock before they were ready to drive upthe street. As they turned the corner from Kearney Street they were salutedby the ringing of numerous bells. 

"Why, it's Sunday!" cried Keith, after a moment's calculation. In theunexpectedness of this discovery he reined in the horse. 

"It will never do to work to-day, " she answered his unspoken thought. "Isuppose we ought to go to church. "

But Keith turned the horse's head to the left. 

"Church?" he returned with great decision. "We're going on a spree. This isa day of rest, and we've earned it. "

"Where?" asked Nan, a trifle shocked at his implication as to church. 

"I haven't the remotest idea, " said Keith. 

They drove along a plank road leading out of town. It proved to be throngedwith people, all going in the same direction. The shuffle of their feet onthe planks and the murmur of their many voices were punctuated by the_klop, klop_ of hoofs and occasional shouts of laughter. All races of theearth seemed to be represented. It was like a Congress of the Nations atsome great exposition. French, Germans, Italians, Russians, Dutchmen, British, were to be recognized and to be expected. But also were strangepeoples--Turks, Arabs, Negroes, Chinese, Kanakas, East Indians, thegorgeous members of the Spanish races, and nondescript queer people to whomneither Nan nor Keith could assign a native habitat. At every step one orthe other called delighted attention to some new exhibit. Mostextraordinary were, possibly, the men from the gold mines of the Sierras, These were mostly young, but long haired, bearded, rough, wilder than anymortal man need be. They walked with a wide swagger. Their clothes wereexaggeratedly coarse, but they ornamented themselves with bright silkhandkerchiefs; with feathers, flowers; with squirrel or buck-tails In theirhats; with long heavy chains of nuggets; with glittering and prominentlydisplayed pistols, revolvers, stilettos, knives, or dirks. Some had plaitedtheir beards in three tails; others had tied their long hair under theirchins. But even the most bizarre seemed to attract no attention. SanFrancisco was accustomed to it. 

Indeed, the few fashionable strollers were much more stared at. Most of thewell dressed were in some sort of vehicle. The Keiths saw many buggies liketheir own. A few very smart, or rather very ornamental, double rigs dashedby. In these sat generally good-looking but rather loud young women, whostared straight ahead with an assumption of supreme indifference. Hacks oromnibuses careered along. In these the company was generally merry butmixed, though occasionally a good-looking couple had hired an ordinarypublic conveyance. Horsemen and horsewomen were numerous. Some of thesewere very dashing indeed, the women with long trailing skirts and high hatsfrom which floated veils; the men with skin-tight trousers strapped undervarnished boots, and long split-skirted coats. Others were simply plain a-horseback. The native Californians with their heavy, silver-mountedsaddles, braided rawhide reins and bridles, their sombreros, theirpicturesque costumes, and their magnificent fiery horses made a fineappearance. Occasionally screaming, bouncing Chinese, hanging on with bothhands, would dash by at full speed, their horses quite uncontrolled, theirgarments flying, ecstatically scared and happy, causing great confusion, and pursued by curses. 

"Evidently we're headed in the right direction, " remarked Keith. 

After a drive of two or three miles, never far from the bay they arrivedat what had evidently been a sleepy little village. The original low, picturesque, red-tiled adobe buildings still clustered about the Mission. But much had been added. The Keiths found themselves in an immenseconfusion. Screaming signs cried everywhere for attention--advertising bearpits, cock fights, theatrical attractions, side shows, and the like. Innumerable hotels and restaurants, small, cheap, and tawdry, offered theirhospitality, the liquid part of which was already being widely accepted. Men were striking pegs with hammers, throwing balls at negroes' headsthrust through canvas, shooting at targets. A racecourse was surrounded. Dust rose in choking clouds, and the sun beat down heavily. 

"Goodness, what a place!" cried Nan in dismay. 

Had they known it, there were many quiet, attractive, outlying resortscatering to and frequented by the fashionables, for "the Mission" was atthat time in its heyday as a Sunday amusement for all classes. As it was, Keith drove on through the village, and so out to a winding country road. 

"This is heavenly, " said Nan, and laid aside her veil. 

The road wound and meandered through the low hills of the peninsula. Thesun beat down on them in a flood, only its heat, no longer oppressive, hadbecome grateful. 

"Doesn't it feel good on your back!" exclaimed Nan, recognizing thisquality. "One seems to soak it in--just the way a thirsty plant soakswater. "

The rounded hills were turning a ripe soft brown. Across their crests thesky looked very blue. High in the heavens some buzzards were sailing. Innumerable quail called. On tree tops perched yellow-breasted meadow larkswith golden voices. In the bottom of the narrow valley where the road woundwere green willow trees and a little trickle of water. From the ground cameupward waves of heat and a pungent clean odour of some weed. Nan wasexcited and keenly receptive to impressions. 

"It's a hot day!" she cried, "and the road is dusty. By rights it ought tobe disagreeable. But it isn't! Why is that?"

The little valley widened into a pocket. Back from the road stood a lowwhite much house. Its veranda was smothered in the gorgeousness ofbougainvillaea. A grave, elderly, bearded Spaniard, on horseback, passedthem at a smooth shuffling little trot, and gave them a sonorous _buenasdias_, The road mounted rapidly. Once when Keith had reined in to breathethe horse, they heard the droning crescendo hum of a new swarm of beespassing overhead. 

"Isn't this nice!" cried Nan, snuggling against Keith's arm. 

Suddenly, over the crest and down the other side, they came on sand hills. The horse plodded along at a walk. Nan hung far out watching, fascinated, the smooth, clean sand dividing before the wheels and flowing back over therim, and so over a little rise, and the sea was before them. 

"Oh, the Pacific!" exclaimed she, sitting up very straight. 

The horse broke into a trot along the smooth hard shore. The wind wascoming in from the wide spaces. A taste of salt was in the air. Foamwreaths advanced and receded with the edge of the wash, or occasionallyblew in a mass across the flat, until gradually they scattered anddissipated. The horse pricked up his ears, breathed deep of the fresh coolair, expanded his nostrils snorting softly, pretended to shy at the foamwreaths. The wash advanced and drew back with a soft hissing sound; thewind blew flat and low, so that even on the wet parts a fine, white, driedmist of sand was always scurrying and hurrying along close to the ground. Outside the surges reared and fell with a crash. 

After the tepid or heated atmosphere of the hills the air was unexpectedlycool and vital. A flock of sickle-billed curlews stood motionless untilthey were within fifty yards; then rose and flew just inside the line ofthe breakers, uttering indescribably weird and lonely cries. A long file ofpelicans, their wings outspread, sailed close to the surface of the ocean, undulating over the waves and into the hollows exactly paralleling, at aheight of only a few feet, the restless contour of the sea. Occasionallythey would all flop their wings two or three times in unison. 

"I believe it's a sort of game--they're having fun!" stated Nan withconviction. 

Everything seemed to be having fun. Close to the wash were forty or fiftytiny white sanderlings in a compact band. When the wash receded theyfollowed it with an incredibly rapid twinkling of little legs; and whenagain the wave rushed, shoreward, _scuttle, scuttle, scuttle_ went they, keeping always just at the edge of the water. Never were they forced towing; yet never did they permit the distance to widen between themselvesand the inrushing or outrushing wave. There were also sundry ducks. Theseswam just inside the breakers, and were carried backward and forward by thesurges. Always they faced seaward. At the very last instant, as a greatcurler bent over them, they dipped their heads and dived. If the wave didnot break, however, they rode over its top. Their accuracy of eye wasuncanny. Time after time they gauged the wave so closely that they justflipped over the crest as it crashed with a roar beneath them. A tenth of asecond later would have destroyed them. Keith reined up the horse to watchthem and the sanderlings. 

"It _is_ a game, " he agreed after a while, "just like the pelicans. Itisn't considered sporting for sanderlings to get more than three inchesaway from the edge of the wash; or for a duck to dive unless he actuallyhas to. It must be a game; for they certainly aren't catching anything. "

At this moment the sanderlings as though at a signal sprang into the air, wheeled back and forth with instantaneous precision, and departed. Theducks, too, dove, and came up only outside the surf. 

"Good little sportsmen, " laughed Keith; "they play the game for its ownsake. They don't like an audience. "

After a few miles they came to a cliff reaching down to the beach andcompletely barring the way. Off shore were rocky islets covered with sealsand sea lions. A lone blue heron stood atop a sand dune, absolutelymotionless. 

"I don't know where we are, or how we get out, " said Keith, "but I'm goingto take that chap there as a sign post, " and he turned his horse directlytoward the heron. 

Sure enough, a track led them through the sand, and by a zigzag route tothe top of the knoll that had barred their way along the shore. They cameto an edge. Before them lay an arm of the sea, sweeping and eddying with astrong incoming tide. Over the way stood a great mountain, like a sentinel. Far to their right the arm widened. There was a glimpse of sparkling blue, and of the pearl of far-off hills, and the haze of a distant dim peak. 

"It's the Golden Gate!" cried Keith in sudden enlightenment. 

He told her that the mountain over the way must be Tamalpais; that thepearl-gray, far-off hills must be Contra Costa; that the distant dim peakwas undoubtedly Mount Diabolo. She repeated the syllables after him softly, charmed by their music. 

Simultaneously they discovered that they were hungry. The wind whipped infrom the sea. An outpost tent or so marked the distant invisible city overthe hills. Keith turned his horse's head toward them. They drove backacross what are now the Presidio hills. 

But in a hollow they came upon another ranch house, like the first--low, white, red roofed, covered with vines. Keith insisted on driving to it. Anumber of saddled horses dozed before the door, a half-dozen dogs sprawledin the dust, fowls picked their way between the horses' legs or over thedogs' recumbent forms. At the sound of wheels several people came from theshadow of the porch into the open. They proved to be Spanish Californiansdressed in the flat sombreros, the short velvet jackets, the slashedtrousers, and soft leather _zapatos_. The men, handsome, lithe, indolent, pressed around the wheels of the buggy, showing their white teeth inpleasant smiles. 

"Can we get anything to eat here?" asked Keith. 

They all smiled again most amiably. The elder swept off his hat with a freegesture. 

"_A piedes ouestros, señora_, " he said, "_pero no hablo Inglés. Habla ustedEspañol?_"

Keith understood the last three words. 

"No, " he shook his head violently, "no _Español_. Hungry. " He pointed toNan, then to himself: "She, me, hungry. "

This noble effort brought no results, except that the Californians lookedmore politely distressed and solicitous than ever. 

"They don't understand us, " murmured Nan; "don't you think we'd betterdrive on?"

But Keith, who had now descended from the buggy, resorted to sign language. He rubbed his stomach pathetically and pointed down his open mouth; as anafterthought he rubbed the horse's belly; then, with apparent intention, headvanced toward Nan. A furious red inundated her face and neck, and sheheld her little parasol threateningly between them. Everybody burst intolaughter. 

"_Si! si! si!_" they cried. 

Several started to unharness the horse. Others held out their hands. Aftera moment's hesitation Nan accepted their aid and descended. Keith'sperformance was evidently considered a great joke. 

On the low veranda were two women, one most enormously fat, the other youngand lithe. They were dressed almost exactly alike, their blue--black hairparted smoothly over their foreheads but built up to a high structurebehind, filmy _rebosas_ over high combs, and skirts with many floweredflounces. They both had soft, gentle eyes, and they were both so heavilypowdered that their complexions were almost blue. All the men explained tothem at once. The younger answered gayly; the older listened with entireplacidity. But when the account was finished, she reached out to pat Nan'shand, and to smile reassuringly. 

Various foods and a flask of red wine were brought. There was noconstraint, for Keith threw himself with delighted abandon into experimentswith sign language. 

"_Esta simpatica_, " the Californians told each other over and again. 

Their manners were elaborate, dignified, deliberate, and beautiful. Keith, ordinarily rather direct and brusque, to Nan's great amusement becameexactly like them. They outvied each other. The women touched smilingly thestuff of Nan's gown, and directly admired her various feminine trappings. She, thus encouraged, begged permission to examine more closely the lace ofthe _rebosas_ or the beautiful embroidery on the shawls. A little feelingof intimacy drew them all together, although they understood no word ofeach other's language. 

One of the dogs now approached and gravely laid its nose on Nan's knee, gazing up at her with searching soft eyes. The older woman cried outscandalized, but Nan shook her head, and patted the beast's nose. 

"You like?" asked the woman. 

"Why, you do talk English!" cried Nan. 

But either these two words were all the woman had, or she was unwilling toadventure further. 

"You like?" she repeated again, after a moment, and then, observing Nan'sinterest, she uttered a command to one of the numerous ragged small boysstanding about. The urchin darted away, to return after a moment with abasket, which he emptied on the ground. Four fuzzy puppies rolled out. 

"Oh, the darlings!" cried Nan. 

The little animals proceeded at once to roll one another over, growlingfiercely, charging uncertainly about, gazing indeterminately through theirblue infantile eyes. The mother left her position at Nan's knee to hoverover them; turning them over with her nose, licking them, skipping nimblysidewise when they charged down upon her with an idea of nourishment. 

Nan was enchanted. She left the bench to stoop to their level, tumblingthem over on their backs; playfully boxing their ears, working them up to awild state of yapping enthusiasm. 

"The little darlings!" she cried; "just see their fat little tummies! Andtheir teeth are just like needles. No, no, you mustn't! You'll tear myflounces! Look, Milton, see this little rascal pull at my handkerchief!"

Her cheeks were flushed, and as she looked up laughing from beneath herhat, she made a very charming picture. 

"You like, " stated the Californian woman with conviction. 

After a while it became time to go. Vaqueros brought out the horse andharnessed it to the buggy. Keith made a movement to offer payment, butcorrectly interpreted the situation and refrained. They mounted thevehicle. 

"_Muchas gracias!_" Nan enunciated slowly. 

This effort was received with an admiring acclaim that flushed Nan with aninordinate pride. She had picked up the phrase from hearing it used attable. The fat woman came forward, one of the puppies tucked under her arm. In spite of her apparently unwieldy size she moved gracefully and lightly. 

"You like?" she inquired, holding the squirming puppy at arm's length. 

"_Si, si, muchas gracias!_" cried Nan eagerly, and employing at once allher Spanish vocabulary. She deposited the puppy in her lap and reached outto shake hands. Keith flicked the horse with his whip. He, too, hadrecollected a word of Spanish, and he used it now. 

"_Adios!_" he shouted. 

But their hosts had a better phrase. 

"_Vaya Con Dios!_" they cried in chorus. 

Nan was in raptures over the whole episode, but especially over the puppy. The latter, with the instantaneous adaptability of extreme youth, hadsnuggled down into a compact ball, and was blinking one hazy dark blue eyeupward at his new mistress. 

"Weren't they nice people, " cried Nan, "and wasn't it an adventure? Andisn't he just the dearest, cutest little thing? You're not a little Spanishdog any more, you know. You're a--what is it they call us?--oh, yes! You'rea gringo now. Why, that's a fine idea! Your name is Gringo!"

And Gringo he became henceforth. 

"What kind of a dog is he?" she asked. 

Keith grinned sardonically. 

"Of course I do not know his honoured father, " said he, "so I cannot offeran opinion as to that half of him. But on his mother's side he isbloodhound, bulldog, collie, setter, pointer, St. Bernard, and Old Englishsheepdog. "

"Which?"' asked Nan puzzled. 

"All, " asserted Keith. 

Now suddenly the sun was blotted out. They looked back: a white bank of fogwas rolling in from the sea. It flowed over the hills like a flood, reaching long wisps down into the hollows, setting inertly in the flats andvalleys, the upper part rolling on and over in a cascade. Beneath itsshadow the warmth and brightness of the world had died. 

"It strikes me we're going to be cold, " remarked Keith, urging forward thehorse. 

The roadbed became more solid, and they trotted along freely. The horse, also, was anxious to get home. Signs of habitations thickened. The widewaste hills of the ranchos had been left behind. Here and there wereoutlying dwellings, or road houses, the objectives of pleasure excursionsof various sorts and degrees of respectability from the city. From one ofthe latter came a hail. 

"Oh, Keith! I say, Keith!"

From a group of people preparing to enter a number of vehicles two men camerunning. Ben Sansome and Morrell, somewhat out of breath, came alongside. They were a little flushed and elevated, but very cordial, and full ofreproaches that Keith had so entirely dropped out of sight during the pastweek. 

"I tell you, you must come over to our house for supper, " said Morrellfinally. "Everybody comes. "

"The Morrells' Sunday night suppers are an institution, " supplementedSansome. 

"I wish I could persuade you, " urged Morrell. "I wonder where Mimi is. Iknow Mrs. Morrell ought to call, and all that sort of thing, but this isnot a conventional place. We live next door, y'know. Do be delightful andneighbourly, and come!"

Nan hesitated; but the lure of the well-dressed company, so thoroughly atease with one another, was irresistible in the reaction. She accepted. 

XI

The Keiths arrived to find the Morrells' informal party in full blast. Thefront parlour was filled with a number of people making a great noise. Outof the confusion Mrs. Morrell arose and came to them, as they stood wherethe China-man had abandoned them. 

"Mimi" Morrell was a tall woman, not fat, but amply built, with a full bustand hips. Her hair was of the peculiar metallic golden blond that might ormight not have been natural; her skin smooth and white, but coarse ingrain, would look better at night than by daylight. Her handsome, regularfeatures were rather hard and set in their expression when in absoluterepose, but absolute repose was rare to them. In action they softened to avery considerable feminine allurement. She moved with decision, andpossibly her general attitude smacked the least bit of running things. Shegave the impression of keeping an eye open for everything going on abouther. To Nan she seemed tremendous, overwhelming, and a little magnificent. 

Immediately, without introductions, the whole party moved through thedouble doors into the dining-room. There they took their places at a tableset out lavishly with food and drink in great quantity. Mrs. Morrellexplained in her high level voice that servants and service were alwaysdispensed with at her Sunday nights. She rather carelessly indicated a seatto Mrs. Keith, and remarked to Keith that he was to sit next herself. Otherwise the party distributed itself. Ben Sansome promptly annexed thechair next to Nan, and started in to make himself agreeable. 

A complete freemasonry obtained among all the party. There was a great dealof shouting back and forth, from one end of the table to the other. Eachseemed to have a nickname. One young man was known exclusively as "Popsy, "another answered as "Zou-zou, " a third was called "Billy Goat"; a veryvivid, flashing young woman was "Teeny, " and so on. They conversed, orrather shouted, to a great extent by means of catch words or phrases, alluding evidently to events the purport of which the Keiths could by nopossibility guess. There were a great many private jokes, the points ofwhich were obvious to only one or two. Every once in a while some one wouldsay "Number Seven!" and everybody would go off into convulsions oflaughter. The vivid young woman called Teeny suddenly shrieked, "How aboutFriday, the twenty-third?" at Popsy, to Popsy's obvious consternation andconfusion. Immediately every one turned on either Popsy or Teeny, demandingthe true inwardness of the remark. Popsy defended himself, rather pink andembarrassed. The young woman, a devilish knowing glint in her eyes, her redunderlip caught between her teeth, refused to answer. 

Keith warmed to this free and easy atmosphere. He was friendly andsympathetic with the lively crowd. But in vain he tried for a point ofcontact. All this badinage depended on a previous knowledge and intimacy, and that, of course, he lacked. Mrs. Morrell, sitting beside him verystraight and commanding, delivered her general remarks in a high, clearvoice, turning her attention impartially now to one part of the noisytable, now to another. 

Suddenly she abandoned the company to its own devices, and leaning her leftelbow on the table, she turned squarely to Keith, enveloping him with amagnetic all-for-you look. 

"Do you know, " she said abruptly, "something tells me you are musical. "

"Why, I am, a little, " admitted Keith, surprised. "But how could you tell?"

"La, now, I was sure you had a voice the first time I heard you speak. Iadore music, and I can always tell. "

"Do you sing, too?" asked Keith. 

"I? No, unfortunately. I have no more voice than a crow. I strum a bit, buteven that has been a good deal neglected lately. There's no temptation tokeep up one's music here. I don't know a single soul in all this city whocares a snap of their finger for it. "

"We'll have to have some music together, " suggested Keith. 

"I'd adore it. Isn't it lucky we're neighbours? I've been so interested"--she said it as though she had almost intended to say "amused"--"in watchingyou this past week. You are the most domestic man I know. I never saw a manwork so singlemindedly at his house and home. Domesticity is a rare outwornvirtue here, I assure you. It is really quite touching to see a man sodevoted these days. "

She said these things idly, a little disjointedly, looking at him steadilyall the while. Her manner was detached, and yet somehow it impelled himstrongly to protest that he was really not a bit domestic. 

"Have you met any of the people of the place?" she shifted suddenly, "Well--I really haven't had much chance yet--a few of the men. "

"Well--you'll find things pretty mixed. Don't expect much; one has to takethings pretty much as one finds them. "

To this simple speech was appended one gesture only--a slight raising ofthe eyebrows. Yet the effect was to sweep Keith into the intimacy of aninner circle, to suggest that she, too, found society mixed, and to imply--very remotely--that at least certain members of the present company itselfwere not quite what he--or she--would choose in another environment. Inunconscious response to this unspoken thought, Keith glanced about thetable. There was a good deal of drinking going on; and the fun was becomingeven more obvious and noisy. Mrs. Morrell occasionally sipped at herchampagne. She emitted a slight but rather disturbing perfume. 

"Why did you come out here, anyway?" she asked him. "I can't make out. I'mcurious. "

"Why shouldn't I?" demanded Keith. 

"Well, men come here either for money, for adventure, or to make a career. "She marked each on the tablecloth with the end of a fork. "Which is it?"

"Guess, " laughed Keith. 

"You don't need money--or else you have a wonderful nerve to take the Boylehouse. I believe you have the nerve, all right. Men with your sort of closecurly hair are never--bashful!" she laughed shortly. 

"Boyle's rent is safe--for a while, " admitted Keith. 

"Career?" she went on, looking him in the eyes speculatively, and allowingher gaze to sink deep into his. He noticed that her eyes were a gray green, like semi-precious stones of some sorts, with surface lights, but also withgrayer radiations that seemed to go below the surface to smoulderingdepths--disturbing eyes, like the perfume. "Career?" she repeated. "I thinkyou hold yourself better--a career in the riff-raff of this town. " Sheshook her head archly. "But adventure! Oh, la! There's plenty of that--allsorts!" She gave the impression of meaning a great deal more than she said. "I wish I were a man!" she exclaimed, and laughed. 

"I'm glad you're not, " rejoined Keith sincerely. 

She tapped him lightly on the arm with her fan. 

"Oh, la!" she cried. 

Keith laughed meaningly and mischievously. He was feeling entirely at home--in his mental shirtsleeves--thoroughly at ease. 

"You're a lawyer, are you not?" she asked him. 

"Try to be. "

"Going to practise?"

"If any practice comes my way. "

She looked at him, smiling slowly. 

"Oh, it'll come fast enough. " She seized her glass and held it to him. "Here's to your career!" she cried. "Bottoms up!"

They clinked glasses and drank. 

"You must meet people--influential people, " she told him. "We must see whatwe can do; I'll have some of them in. "

"You're simply fine to take all this trouble for me!"

She tapped him again on the arm. 

"Silly! We take care of our own people, of _course!_ Let's plan it. Haveyou any connections in town at all?"

"Well, I've met quite a few people about town, and I have some letters. "

"Casual acquaintances are well enough, but your letters?"

"I have one to Calhoun Bennett, and to Mr. Dempster, and Mr. Farwell, andTruett--"

But she was making a wry face. 

"What's the matter with, them?" he demanded. 

"Cal Bennett's all right--but the others--oh, I suppose they're all rightin a business way--but--"

"But, what?"

She made a helpless little gesture. 

"I can't describe it--you know--the sort that are always so keen on doingtheir _duty!_"

She laughed; and to his subconscious surprise Keith found himself sayingsympathetically:

"I know the sort of people who always pay their debts!"

They looked into each other's eyes and laughed in comradeship. In soberlife Keith did his duty reasonably well, and was never far behindfinancially. 

She fell silent for a moment; then with a muttered "excuse me, " she leaneddirectly across his shoulder to impart something low-voiced and giggly tothe woman on his right. To do this she leaned her breast against his armand shoulder. The conversation lasted some seconds. Keith could not hear aword of it; but he was disturbingly aware of her perfume, the softness ofher body, and the warmth that struck even through the intervening clothing. She drew back with a half apology. 

"Feminine nonsense, " she told him. "Mere man couldn't be expected tounderstand. " She was herself a little flushed from leaning over, but sheappeared not to notice Keith's rather breathless state. He mutteredsomething, and gulped at his champagne. 

"Do you know Mrs. Sherwood?" he asked, merely to say something, But to his surprise Mrs, Morrell answered him shortly, her manner changing:

"No, I don't. We draw the line _somewhere_!"

Again she addressed the woman on the right, but this time without leaningacross:

"Oh, Amy, the fair Patricia has another victim!" and laughed rathershrilly. Suddenly she rapped the table with the handle of a knife. "Stopit!" she cried to the company at large. "You're making too much noise!"

They all turned to her except one youth who was too noisily busy with hispartner to have heard her. Failing in another attempt to get his attention, Mrs. Morrell picked up a chunk of French bread and hurled it at him. 

"Good shot!" "Bravo!" "Encore!" came a burst of applause, as the bread, largely by accident, took him squarely between the eyes. 

The youth, though astonished, was game. He retaliated in kind. Keithwhipped up an empty plate and intercepted it. The youth's partner came tohis assistance. Keith, a plate in either hand, deftly protected Mrs. Morrell from the flying missiles. The implied challenge was instantlyaccepted by all. The air was full of bread. Keith's dexterity was tested tothe utmost, but he came through the battle with flying colours. Everybodythrew bread. There was much explosive laughter, that soon became fairlyexhausting. The battle ceased, both because the combatants were out ofammunition, and because they were too weak from mirth to proceed. Keithwith elaborate mock gallantry turned and presented Mrs. Morrell with thetwo plates. 

"The spoils of war!" he told her. 

"He should be decorated for conspicuous gallantry on the field of battle!"cried some one. 

The idea took. But they could find nothing appropriate until TeenyMcFarlane deliberately stepped up on the table and broke from the glasschandelier one of its numerous dangling prisms. This called forth a mildprotest from Morrell--"Oh, I say!"--which was drowned in a wild shriek ofdelight. The process of stepping down from the table tilted Teeny's wideskirts so that for an instant a slim silken leg was plainly visible as faras the knee. "Oh! oh!" cried every one. Some pretended to be shocked, andcovered their faces with spread fingers; others feigned to try for anotherlook. Teeny was quite unperturbed. 

Keith was the centre of attention and a great success. But there were nomore tète-à-têtes. Mrs. Morrell managed to convey the idea that she wasdispleased, and Keith was of a sufficiently generous and ingenuousdisposition to be intrigued by the fact. He had no chance to probe thematter. In a moment or so Mrs. Morrell rose and strolled toward thedrawing-room. The others straggled after her. She rather liked thus toemphasize her lack of convention as a hostess, making a pose of neverremembering the proper thing to do. Now she moved here and there, laughingher shrill rather mirthless laugh, calling everybody "dearie, " utteringabrupt little platitudes. Keith found himself left behind, and rather outin the cold. The company had quite frankly segregated itself into couples. The room was well adapted to this, filled as it was with comfortable chairsarranged with apparent carelessness two by two. The men lighted cigars. Keith saw Nan's eyes widen at this. She was sitting near the fire, andSansome had penned her in beyond the possibility of invasion by a third. Atthis date smoking was a more or less doubtfully considered habit, and inthe best society men smoked only in certain rigidly specifiedcircumstances. In a drawing-room such an action might be considered thefair equivalent to powdering the feminine nose. 

In such a condition, Keith was left rather awkwardly alone, and was fairlythrust upon a fictitious interest in a photograph album, at which heglowered for some moments. Then by a well-planned and skilfully executedflank movement he caught Mrs. Morrell. 

"Look here, " he demanded; "what has the standing army done to deserveabandonment in a hostile country?"

But she looked at him directly, without response to his playful manner. 

"My friend, " she said, "this is a pretty free and easy town, as no doubtyou have observed, and society is very mixed. But we haven't yet come toreceiving women like Mrs. Sherwood, or relishing their being mentioned tous. "

"Why, what's the matter with her?" demanded Keith, astonished. "Is she asfar from respectability as all that?"

"Respectable! That word isn't understood in San Francisco. " She appearedsuddenly to soften. "You're a dear innocent boy, so you are, and you've gota dear innocent little wife, and I'll have to look out for you. "

Before the deliberate and superior mockery in her eyes as well as in hervoice, Keith felt somehow like a small boy. He was stung to a momentaryastonishing fury. 

"By God--" he began, and checked himself with difficulty. 

She smiled at him slowly. 

"Perhaps I didn't mean all of that, " she said; "perhaps only half of it, "she added with significance. "My personal opinion is that you are likely tobe a curly haired little devil; and when you look at me like that, I'm gladwe're not alone. "

She looked at him an enigmatic moment, then turned away from the table nearwhich they had been standing. "Come, help me break up some of this'twosing, '" she said. 

Shortly after this the party dispersed. Mrs. Morrell said good-bye to themcarelessly, or not at all, according as it happened. 

"You must come again, come often, " she told the Keiths. "It's pretty dullunless you make your own fun. " She was half sleepily conventional, her lidsheavy. "Perhaps we can have some music soon, " she added. The words werecareless, but she shot Keith an especial gleam. 

The Keiths walked sociably home together, almost in silence. Keith, afterhis habit, super-excited with all the fun, the row, and the half-guiltyboyish feeling of having done a little something he ought not to have done, did not want to seem too enthusiastic. 

"Jolly crowd, " he remarked. 

"They were certainly noisy enough, " said Nan indifferently; then after amoment, "Where _do_ you suppose some of them get their clothes?"

Keith's mind was full of the excitement of the evening. He found himselfreviewing the company, appraising it, wondering about it. Was TeenyMcFarlane as gay as she appeared? He had never seen women smoke before; butthat dark girl with the red thing in her hair puffed a cigarette. Perhapsshe was Spanish--he had not met her. And Mrs. Morrell--hanged if he quitedared make her out--it wouldn't do to jump to conclusions nor too hastilyto apply Eastern standards; this was a new country, fatal to make a foolmistake; well-built creature, by gad--

Nan interrupted his thoughts. He came to with a start. 

"I think we'd better put the big armchair in the front room, after all, "she was saying. 

XII

Next morning Keith allayed what little uneasiness his conscience mightharbour by remarking, as he adjusted his collar:

"Mrs. Morrell is an amusing type, don't you think? She's a bit vulgar, butshe seems good hearted. Wonder what colour her hair used to be?"

"I suppose they are all right, " said Nan. "They are a little rowdy. Theygave me a headache. "

Illogically rehabilitated in his own self-esteem, Keith went on dressing. He was "on" to Mrs. Morrell; her methods were pretty obvious. Wonder if shethought she had really fooled him? Next time he would be on guard and beather at her own game. She was not a woman to his taste, anyway--he glancedadmiringly at Nan's clean profile against the light--but she was full ofvitality, she was keen, she was brimming with the joy of life. 

The long drive over the Peninsula to the sea and back, the episode of theSpanish people, the rowdy supper party, had one effect, however: it hadmade so decided a break in the routine that Keith found himself thrustquite outside it. He had worked feverishly all the week, at about doublespeed; and in ordinary course would have gone on working feverishly atdouble speed for another week. Now, suddenly, the thought was irksome. Hedid not analyze this; but, characteristically, discovered an irrefutablereason for not going on with it. They rescued Gringo from Sam's care, anddrove up to the house. On the way Keith said:

"Look here, Nan; do you suppose you and Wing can get on all right thismorning? All the heavy work is done. I really ought to be settling theoffice and getting some lines laid for business. "

"Why, of course we can get on, silly!" she rejoined. "This isn't your job, anyway. Of course you ought to attend to your business. "

Keith again consulted Palmer, Cook & Co. The same clerk showed him offices. He was appalled at the rents. Even a miserable little back room in theobscurer blocks commanded a sum higher than he had anticipated paying. After looking at a dozen, he finally decided on a front room in theMerchants' Exchange Building. This was one of the most expensive, but Keithwas tired of looking. The best is the greatest economy in the long run, hetold himself, and with a lawyer, new-come, appearances count for much ingetting clients. Must get the clients, though, to support this sort ofthing! The rest of the morning he spent buying furniture. 

About noon he walked back to the Bella Union. His horse and buggy were nothitched to the rail, so he concluded Nan had not yet returned for lunch. Mrs. Sherwood, however, was seated in a rocker at the sunny end of the longveranda. She looked most attractive, her small smooth head bent over somesort of fancywork. Before she looked up Keith had leisure to note the poiseof her head and shoulders, the fine long lines of her figure, and thearched-browed serenity of her eyes. Different type this from the full-breasted Morrell, more--more patrician! Rather absurd in view of theirrespective places in society, but a fact. Keith found himself swiftlyspeculating on Mrs. Sherwood's origin and experience. She was endowed witha new glamour because of Mrs. Morrell's enigmatic remark the eveningbefore, and also--for Keith was very human--with a new attraction. Feelingvaguely and boyishly devilish, Keith. Stopped. 

She nodded at him, laying her work aside. 

"You are practically invisible. " she told him. 

"Making ourselves a habitation. Seen Mrs. Keith?"

"No. I don't think she's come in. "

Keith hesitated, then:

"I think I'll go up to the house for her. "

Mrs. Sherwood nodded, and resumed her work calmly, without further remark. 

At the house Keith found Nan, her apron on, her hair done up under a dustcap, very busy. 

"Noon?" she cried, astonished. "It can't be! But I can't stop now. I thinkI'll have Wing pick me up a lunch. There's plenty in the house. It's toomuch bother to clean up. "

Keith demurred; then wanted to stay for the pick-up lunch himself. Nanwould have none of it. She was full of repressed enthusiasm and eagerness, but she wanted to get rid of him. 

"There's not enough. I wouldn't have you around. Go away, that's a goodboy! If you'll leave Wing and me entirely alone we'll be ready to move into-morrow. "

"Where's Gringo?" asked Keith by way of indirect yielding--he had really nodesire for a picked-up lunch. 

"The little rascal! He started to chew everything in the place, so I tiedhim in the backyard. He pulls and flops dreadfully. Do you think he'llstrangle himself?"

Keith looked out the window. Gringo, all four feet planted, wasdeterminedly straining back against his tether. The collar had pulledforward all the loose skin of his neck, so that his eyes and features werelost in wrinkles. 

"He doesn't yap, " volunteered Nan. 

Keith gave it as his opinion that Gringo would stop short of suicide, commended Gringo's taciturnity and evident perseverance, and departed forthe hotel. In the dining-room he saw Mrs. Sherwood in a riding habit, eating alone. Keith hesitated, then took the vacant seat opposite. Sheaccorded this permission cordially, but without coquetry, remarking thatSherwood often did not get in at noon. Immediately she turned theconversation to Keith's affairs, inquiring in detail as to how the settlingwas getting on, when they expected to get in, how they liked the house, whether they had bought all the furniture. 

"You remember I directed you to the auctions?" she said. 

She asked all these questions directly, as a man would, and listened to hisreplies. 

"I suppose you have an office picked out?" she surmised. 

At his mention of the Merchants' Exchange Building she raised her archedeyebrows half humorously. 

"You picked out an expensive place. "

Keith went over his reasoning, to which she listened with a half smile. 

"You may be right, " she commented; "the reasoning is perfectly sound. Butthat means you must get the business in order to make it pay. What are yourplans?"

He confessed that as yet they were rather vague; there had not been time todo much--too busy settling. 

"The usual thing, I suppose, " he added: "get acquainted, hang out ashingle, mix with people, sit down and starve in the traditional manner ofyoung lawyers. "

He laughed lightly, but she refused to joke. 

"There are a good many lawyers here--and most of them poor ones, " she toldhim. "The difficulty is to stand out above the ruck, to become noticed. Youmust get to know all classes, of course; but especially those of your ownprofession, men on the bench. Yes, especially men on the bench, they mayhelp you more than any others--"

He seemed to catch a little cynicism in her implied meaning, andexperienced a sense of shock on his professional side. 

"You don't mean that judges are--"

"Susceptible to influence?" She finished the sentence for him with anamused little laugh. She studied him for an instant with new interest, "They're human--more human here than anywhere else--like the rest of us--they respond to kind treatment--" She laughed again, but at the sight ofhis face her own became grave. She checked herself. "Everything is so newout here. In older countries the precedents have all been established. Outhere there are practically none. They are being made now, every day, by thepresent judges. Naturally personal influence might get a hearing for onepoint of view or the other--"

"I see what you mean, " he agreed, his face clearing. 

"Join a good fire company, " she advised him. "That is the first thing todo. Each company represents something different, a different class of men. "

"Which would you advise?" asked Keith seriously. 

"That is a matter for your own judgment. Only, investigate well. Meet allthe people you can. Know the newspaper men, and the big merchants. In yourprofession you must cultivate men like Terry, Girvin, Shattuck, Gwin. Keepyour eyes open. Be bold and use your wits. Above all, make friends; that'sit, _make friends_--everybody, everywhere. Don't despise anybody. You willget plenty of chances. " She was sitting erect, and her eyes were flashing. Her usual slow indolent grace had fallen from her; she radiated energy. Herslender figure took on a new appearance of knit strength. "Such chances! Myheavens! if I were a man!"

"You'd make a bully man!" cried Keith. Mrs. Morrell, uttering the samewish, had received from him a different reply, but he had forgotten that. 

She laughed again, the tension broke, and she sank back into her usualrelaxed poise. 

"But, thank heavens, I'm not, " said she. 

XIII

Affairs for the Keiths passed through another week of what might be calledthe transition stage. It took them that long to settle down in their newhouse and into some semblance of a routine--two days to the actualinstallation, and the evenings full of small matters to arrange. Nan wasbusy all day long playing with her new toy. The housekeeping wasfascinating, and Wing Sam a mixture of delight and despair. Like most womenwho have led the sheltered life, she had not realized as yet that thecustoms of her own fraction of one per cent, were not immutable. Therefore, she tried to model the household exactly in the pattern of those to whichshe had been accustomed. Wing Sam blandly refused to be moulded. 

Thus Nan spent all one morning drilling him in the proper etiquette ofanswering doors. Mindful of John McGlynn's advice, she did this by precept, ringing her own door bell, presenting a card as though calling on herself. Wing Sam's placid exterior changed not. A half hour later the door bellrang, but no Wing Sam appeared to answer it. It rang again, and again, until Nan herself opened the door. On the doorstep stood Wing Sam himself. 

"I foolee you, too, " he announced with huge delight. 

Painstakingly Nan conveyed to him that this was neither an amusing game nora practical joke. Later in the day the door bell rang again. Nan, hoveringnear to gauge the result of her training, saw Wing Sam plant himself firmlyin the opening. 

"You got ticket?" he demanded sternly of the deliveryman outside. "You nogot ticket, you no get in!"

Which, Nan rather hysterically gathered, was what Wing Sam had gained ofthe calling-card idea. After that, temporarily as she thought, Nanpermitted him to go back to his own method, which, had she known it, wasthe method of every Chinese servant in California. The visitor found hisbell answered by a blandly smiling Wing Sam, who cheerfully remarked:"Hullo!" It was friendly, and it didn't matter; but at that stage of herdevelopment Nan was more or less scandalized. 

Nan's sense of humour always came to her assistance by evening, and she hadmany amusing anecdotes to tell Keith, over which both of them laughedmerrily. Gringo added somewhat to the complications in life. He was a fat, roly-poly, soft-boned, ingratiating puppy, with a tail that wavedenergetically but uncontrolledly. Gringo at times was very naughty, andvery much in the way. But when exasperation turned to vengeance he had away of keeling over on his back, spreading his hind legs apart in a mannerto expose his stomach freely to brutal assault, and casting one calm china-blue eye upward. 

"Can there anywhere exist any one so hard-hearted as to injure a poor, absolutely defenceless dog?" he inquired, with full confidence in theanswer. 

The iniquities of Gringo and the eccentricities of Wing Sam Nan detailed atlength, and also her experiences with the natives. She as yet looked onevery one as natives. Only later could she expand to the point of includingthem in her cosmos of people. Nan was transplanted, and her roots had notyet struck down into the soil. In her shopping peregrinations she wasmaking casual acquaintance, and she had not yet become accustomed to it. 

"I bought some darling little casseroles at Phelan's to-day, " she said. "The whole Phelan family waited on me. Where do you suppose the women gettheir perfectly awful clothes? Mrs. Phelan offered to take me to hermilliner!" or "You know Wilkins--the furniture man where we got the bigarmchair? I was in there to-day, and he apologized because his wife hadn'tcalled!"

They went to bed early, because they were both very tired. 

Keith also had generally passed an interesting day. Immediately afterbreakfast he went to his office, and conscientiously sat a while. Sometimeshe wrote letters or cast up accounts; but there could not be much of thisto do. About ten or eleven o'clock his impatient temperament had had enoughof this, so he drifted over to the Monumental engine house. Afterconsiderable thought he had decided to join this company. It representedabout the class of men with whom he wanted to affiliate himself--theinfluential men of the lawyer, Southern-politician, large business mentype. There were many of these volunteer organizations. Their main purposewas to fight fire; but they subserved other objects as well--political, social, and financial. David Broderick, for example, already hated andfeared, partly owned and financed a company of ward-heelers who wereintroducing and establishing the Tammany type of spoils politics. Casey, later in serious trouble, practically manipulated another. 

Among the Monumentals, Keith delighted especially in Bert Taylor. BertTaylor likewise delighted in Keith. The little chubby man's enthusiasm forthe company, while recognized as most valuable to the company's welfare, had ended by boring most of the company's members. But Keith was a newlistener and avid for information. He had had no notion of how complicatedthe whole matter could be. Bert Taylor dissertated sometimes on one phaseof the subject, sometimes on another. 

"It's drills we need, and the fellows won't drill enough!" was BertTaylor's constant complaint. "What do they know about hose? They run it outany way it comes; and roll it up anyhow, instead of doing a proper job. "

"How should you do it?" asked Keith. 

"It ought to be laid right--so there's no bends or sharp angles in it; itshould never be laid over heaps of stones, or any kind of uneven surface--it all increases the water resistance. If there are any bends or curvesthey should be regular and even. The hose ought never to rest against asharp edge or angle. And when you coil it up you ought to reverse the sidesevery time, so it will wear even and stretch even. Do they do it? Notunless I stand over them with a club!"

He showed Keith the hose, made of India rubber, a comparatively new thing, for heretofore hose had been made of riveted leather. Bert Taylor made himfeel the inside of this hose with his forefinger to test its superlativesmoothness. 

"Mighty little resistance there!" he cried triumphantly. 

The nozzles, all in racks, he handled with almost reverent care. 

"These are the boys that cost the money, " said Taylor. "If the inside isn'tpolished like a mirror the water doesn't come smooth. And the least littledent makes the stream ragged and broken. Nothing looks worse--and it isn'tas effective on the fire. It ought to be thrown like a solid rod of water. I can't get the boys to realize that the slightest bruise, dent, or burrthrows the stream in a ragged feathery foam. The result of that is that alot of water is dissipated and lost. "

Keith, who had taken hold of the nozzle rather negligently, returned itwith the reverent care due crown jewels. 

"How long a stream will it throw?" he asked. 

"With thirty men on a side she's done a hundred and twelve feet high, andtwo hundred and eighteen for distance, " said Bert with simple pride. 

He picked up the nozzle again. 

"See here. Here's an invention of my own. Cost money to put it in, too, because every other nozzle on earth is made wrong. "

He explained that other nozzles are made so that the thread of the hosescrewed into the nozzle; while in his, the thread of the nozzle screwedinto the hose. 

"If there's a leak or a bad connection, " explained Bert, "with the oldtype, the water is blown back into the fireman's face, and he is blinded. His whole efficiency depends on a close joint. But with my scheme the leakis blown forward, away from the lineman. It's a perfectly sound scheme, butI can't make them see it. "

"Sounds reasonable, " observed Keith, examining perfunctorily a device towhich later he was to owe his life. 

Item by item they went over the details of equipment--the scaling ladders, the jumping sheets, the branch pipes, the suction pipes, the flat roses, standcocks, goose necks, the dogtails, dam boards, shovels, saws, poleaxes, hooks, and ropes. From a consideration of them the two branched off to thegeneralities of fire fighting. Keith learned that the combating of a fire, the driving it into a corner, outflanking it, was a fine art. 

"I say always, _get in close_, " said Taylor. "A fire can be _put_ out aswell as just drowned out. "

It struck Keith as interesting that in a room a stream should always bedirected at the top of a fire, so that the water running down helpsextinguish the flames below, whereas in attack at the bottom or centremerely puts out the immediate blaze, leaving the rest to spread upward orsideways. Taylor put himself on record against fighting fire from thestreet. 

"Don't want a whole lot of water and row, " he maintained. "Get in closequarters and make every drop count. "

When Bert's enthusiasm palled, Keith always found men in the reading-room. The engine house was a sort of clearing house for politics, businessschemes, personal affairs, or differences. 

Once a day, also, as part of his job in his profession, Keith went to thecourthouse. There he sat in the enclosure reserved for lawyers and listenedto the proceedings, his legal mind alert and interested in the technicalbattles. At no time in the world's history has sheer technicalityunleavened by common sense been carried further than in the earlyCalifornia courts. Even in the most law-ridden times elsewhere a certaincheck has been exercised by public opinion or the presence of businessinterests. But here was as yet no public opinion; and business interests, their energies fully taxed by the necessities of a new country, werewilling to pay heavily to be let alone. Consequently, lawyers werepermitted to play out their fascinating game to their hearts' content, andtotally without reference to expedience or to the justice of the case. Thebattles were indeed intensely technical and shadowy. Points within pointswere fought bitterly. Often for days the real case at issue was forgotten. 

Only one of the more obvious instances of technical triumph need be cited. One man killed another, on a public street, before many witnesses. Theindictment was, however, thrown out and he released because it stated onlythat the victim was killed by a pistol, and failed to specify that hisdeath was due to the discharge of said pistol. The lawyer who evolved thisbrilliant idea was greatly admired and warmly congratulated. 

The wheels of the law ground very slowly. One of the simplest and mosteffective expedients of defence was delay. A case could be postponed andremanded, often until the witnesses were scattered or influenced. But therewere infinite numbers of legal expedients, all most interesting to a man ofKeith's profession. His sense of justice was naturally strong and warm, andan appeal to it outside a courtroom or a law office always got an immediateand commonsense response. But inside the law his mind automatically closed, and a "case" could have only legal aspects. Which is true of the majorityof lawyers to-day. 

On the adjournment of court Keith generally drifted over to the El Doradoor the Empire, where he spent an hour or so loafing with some of hisnumerous acquaintances. He was of the temperament that makes itself quicklypopular, the laughing, hearty sort, full of badinage, and genuinely likingmost men with whom he came in contact. There was always much joking in theair, but back of it was a certain reserve, a certain wariness, for everysecond man was a professed "fire-eater, " given to feeling insulted on theslightest grounds, and flying to the duel or the street fight instanter. 

This hour was always most pleasant to Keith; nevertheless, he went homeabout five o'clock in order to enjoy an hour or so of daylight about theplace. He performed prodigies of digging in the new garden: constructingterraces, flower beds, walks, and the like. While the actual constructionwork was under way he was greatly interested, but cared nothing for thefinished product or the mere growing of the flowers. 

Gringo received his share of training, at first to his intense disgust. Twice he refused obedience, and the matter being pressed, resorted to thesimple expedient of retiring from the scene. Keith dropped everything andpursued. Gringo crawled under things, but was followed even to the dustiestand cob-webbiest farthest corner under the porch; he tried swiftness anddodging, but was trailed in all his doublings and twistings at top speed;he tried running straight away over the sand hills, and at first left hishorrible master behind, but the horrible master possessed a horriblepersistence. Finally he shut his eyes and squatted, expecting instantannihilation, but instead was haled back to the exact scene of hisdisobedience, and the command repeated. Nan laughed until the tears came, over the large, warm, red-faced man after the small, obstinate, scared pup, but Keith refused to joke. 

"If he finds he can't get away, no matter what happens, I'll never have todo it again, " he panted. "But if he wins out, even once, it'll be an awfuljob. "

Gringo tried twice. Then, his faith in his ability to escape completelyshattered, he gave up. After that he adored Keith and was always under hisfeet. 

Keith saw nothing of any of the women. Mrs. Sherwood seemed to have droppedfrom their ken when they left the hotel. Once Keith inquired casually aboutMrs. Morrell. 

"She's been over twice to see the place, " replied Nan. 

"We ought to go over there to call, " proffered Keith vaguely; but there thematter rested. 

XIV

One night Keith was awakened by Nan's suddenly sitting up in bed. Therecame to his struggling consciousness the persistent steady clangour of manydeep bells. Slowly recognition filtered into his mind--the fire bells!

He hastily pulled on some clothes and ran down the front stairs, stumblingover Gringo, who uttered an outraged yelp. From the street he could see ared glow in the sky. At top speed he ran down the street in the directionof the Monumental. In the half darkness he could make out other figuresrunning. The deep tones of the bells continued to smite his ear, but now inaddition he heard the tinkling and clinking of innumerable smaller bells--those on the machines. He dashed around a corner to encounter a double lineof men, running at full speed, hauling on a long rope attached to anengine. Their mouths were open, and they were all yelling. The light enginecareened and swayed and bumped. Two men clung to the short steering tongue, trying to guide it. They were thrown violently from side to side, draggedhere and there, tripping, hauling, falling across the tongue, but managingto keep the machine from dashing off at a tangent. Above them, high andprecarious, swayed the short stout figure of Bert Taylor. He was in fullregalia--leather helmet, heavy leather belt, long-tailed coat, and in hisfree hand the chased silver speaking trumpet with the red tassels thatusually hung on the wall. He was in his glory, dominating the horde. Hiskeen eye, roving everywhere, seeing everything, saw Keith. 

"Catch hold!" he roared through the trumpet. 

Keith made a flying grab at a vacant place on the line, caught it, wasalmost jerked from his feet, recovered himself, and charged on, yellinglike the rest. 

But now Bert Taylor began to shriek something excitedly. It became evident, from glimpses caught down the side streets, but especially through the manyvacant lots, that another engine was paralleling their own course a blockaway. 

"Jump her, boys, jump her!" shrieked Bert Taylor. "For God's sake, don'tlet those Eurekas beat you!"

He danced about on top of the waterbox of the engine, in imminent peril ofbeing jerked from his place, battering his silver trumpet insanely againstthe brake rods, beseeching, threatening profanely. And profanity at thattime was a fine art. Men studied its alliteration, the gorgeousness of itsimagery, the blast of its fire. The art has been lost, existing still, in adebased form, only among mule drivers, sailors, and the owners of certainmakes of automobiles. The men on the rope responded nobly. The roar oftheir going over the plank road was like hollow thunder. A man dropped out. Next day it was discovered he had broken his leg in a hole. At tremendousspeed they charged through the ring of spectators, and drew up, proud andpanting, victors by a hundred feet, to receive the plaudits of themultitude. A handsome man on a handsome horse rode up. 

"Monumentals on the fire! Eurekas on cistern number twenty!" he commandedbriefly. 

This was Charles Duane, the unpaid fire chief; a likable, efficient man, but too fond of the wrong sort of friends. 

Now it became evident to Keith why Bert Taylor had urged them so stronglyin the race. The fire was too distant from the water supply to be carriedin one length of hose. Therefore, one engine was required to relay toanother, pumping the water from the cistern, through the hose, and into thewaterbox of the other engine. The other engine pumped it from its ownwaterbox on to the fire. The latter, of course, was the position of honour. 

The Eurekas fell back grumbling, and uttering open threats to wash theirrivals. By this they meant that they would pump water into the Monumentalsfaster than the latter could pump it out, thus overflowing and eternallydisgracing them. They dropped their suction hose into the cistern, and oneof their number held the end of the main hose over a little trapdoor in theMonumental's box. The crews sprang to the long brake handles on eitherside, and at once the regular _thud, thud, thud_ of the pumps took up itsrhythm. The hose writhed and swelled; the light engines quivered. BertTaylor and the Eureka foreman, Carter by name, walked back and forth as ontheir quarterdecks, exhorting their men. Relays, in uniform assumed on thespot, stood ready at hand. Nobody in either crew knew or cared anythingwhatsoever about the fire. As the race became closer, the foremen got moreexcited, begging their crews to increase the stroke, beating their speakingtrumpets into shapeless battered relics. An astute observer would now haveunderstood one reason why the jewellery stores carried such a variety offancy speaking trumpets. They were for presentation by grateful ownersafter the fire had been extinguished, and it was generally necessary to geta new one for each fire. 

Keith, acting under previous instructions, promptly seized a helmet andpoleaxe and made his way to the front. The fire had started in one of manyflimsy wooden buildings, and had rapidly spread to threaten a wholedistrict. Men from the hook and ladder companies were already at work onsome of the hopeless cases. A fireman or two mounted ladders to the eaves, dragging with them a heavy hook on the end of a long pole. Cutting a smallhole with their axes, they hooked on this apparatus and descended. As manyfiremen and volunteers as could get hold of the pole and the rope attachedto it, now began to pull. 

"Yo, heave ho!" they cried. 

The timbers cracked, broke, the whole side of the house came out with agrand and satisfying crash. An inferno of flame was thereby laid open tothe streams from the hose lines. It was grand destructive fun foreverybody, especially for the boys of all ages, which included in spiritabout every male person present. 

This sort of work was intended, of course, to confine or check the firewithin the area already affected, and could accomplish nothing towardsaving the structures already alight. The roar of the flames, the hissingof firebrands sucked upward, the crash of timbers, the shrieks of theforemen through their trumpets, the yells of applause or of sarcasm fromthe crowd, and the _thud, thud, thud, thud_ of numerous brake bars made afine pandemonium. Everybody except the owners or tenants of the buildingswas delighted. 

Keith, with two others, was instructed to carry the Monumental nozzle tothe roof of a house not afire. Proudly they proceeded to use their scalingladders. These were a series of short sections, each about six feet long, the tops slightly narrower than the bottoms. By means of slots these couldbe fitted together. First, Keith erected one of them against the wall ofthe building, at an angle, and ascended it, carrying another section acrosshis shoulder. When he reached a certain rung, which was painted red, hethrust his foot through the ladder and against the wall, pushed the ladderaway from the wall, and fitted the section he was carrying to the top ofthe section on which he was standing. He then hauled up another section andrepeated. When the ladder had reached to the eaves, he and his companionsdragged the squirting, writhing hose up with them, chopped footholds in theroof, and lay flat to look over the ridgepole as over a breastwork. Allthis to the tune of admiring plaudits and with a pleasing glow of heroism. There was a skylight, but either they overlooked or scorned that prosaicexpedient. 

At the other end of the ridgepole Keith made out the dark forms of two menfrom another company. His own companions, acting under orders, nowdescended the ladder, leaving him alone. 

The next building was a raging furnace, and on it Keith directed the heavystream from his nozzle. It was great fun. At first the water seemed to haveno effect whatever, but after a little it began to win. The flames werebeaten back, broken into detachments. Finally, Keith got to the point ofchasing down small individual outbreaks, driving them into their lairs, drowning them as they crouched. He was wholly interested, and the boy inhim, with a shamefaced half apology to the man in him, pretended that hewas a soldier directing a battery against an enemy. 

Along the ridgepole cautiously sidled the two men of the other company, dragging their hose. Keith now recognized them. One was a vivid, debonair, all-confident, magnetic individual named Talbot Ward, a merchant, promoter, speculator, whom everybody liked and trusted; the other a fair Hercules ofa man, slow and powerful in everything, called Frank Munro. 

"Look here, " said Ward, "does it strike you this roof's getting hot?"

Recalled to himself, Keith immediately became aware of the fact. 

"The house is afire beneath us, " said Ward; "we've got to get out. "

"What's the matter with your ladder?" asked Keith. 

"They took it away. "

"We'll use mine. "

They let themselves cautiously down the footholds that had been chopped inthe roof, and looked over. A blast of smoke and flame met them in the face. 

"Good Lord, she's all afire!" cried Keith, aghast. 

The flames were licking around the scaling ladder, which was alreadyblazing. Keith directed the stream from his hose straight down, but with noother result than to break the charred ladder. 

They crawled back to the ridgepole, and worked their hose lines around tothe end of the building, out of the flames. Here a two-story dropconfronted them. 

"This thing is going to fall under us if we don't do something, " mutteredWard. 

"Duane's forgotten us, and those crazy idiots at the engines are too busytrying to keep from being washed, " surmised Keith. 

"Look here, " said Munro suddenly; "I'll brace against a chimney and hang onto the hose, and you can slide down it like a rope. "

"How about you?" demanded Ward crisply. 

"You can run for more ladders, once you're on the ground. "

At this moment the water failed in Keith's hose. He stared at the nozzle, then rapidly began to unscrew it. 

"Cistern empty or hose burst, " surmised Munro. 

But Talbot Ward, cocking his ear toward a distant pandemonium of cheering, guessed the true cause. 

"Sucked, " said he. By this he meant that the Monumental crew had succeededin emptying their water box in spite of the Eureka's best efforts. 

"Get off your nozzle quick!" urged Keith. 

Munro, without stopping to ask why, bent his great strength to the task;and it was a task, for in his hose the pressure of the water wastremendous. It spurted back all over him, and at the last the nozzle wasfairly blown away from him. 

"Now couple my hose to yours quick, quick, before my hose fills!" criedKeith. 

"They won't go--" Munro began to object. 

"Yes, they will, mine's a special thread, " urged Keith, who had rememberedBert Taylor's reversed nozzle. 

All three bent their energies to catching the threads. It was a fearfuljob, for the strength of the water had first to be overcome. Keith wasterribly excited. Time was precious, for not only might the roof give waybeneath them, but at any moment the water might come again in Keith's hose. Then it would be physically impossible to make the coupling. All three menconcentrated their efforts on it, their feet gripping the irregularities ofthe roof or slipping on the shingles. Frank Munro bent his enormous back tothe task, the veins standing out in his temples, his face turning purplewith the effort. Keith helped him as well as he was able. Talbot Ward, coolly, deliberately, delicately, as though he had all the time in theworld, manipulated the coupling, feeling gingerly for the thread. The waterspurted, fanned, sprayed, escaping with violence, first at one point, thenat another, drenching and blinding them. 

"There!" breathed Ward at last, and with a few twists, of his sinewy handsbrought the couplings into close connection. Munro relaxed, drawing two orthree deep breaths. Without the aid of his great strength the task couldnot have been accomplished. 

"Hook her over the chimney, " gasped Keith. 

With some difficulty they lifted the loop of the throbbing hose over thechimney. 

"Down we go!" cried Keith, and slid hand over hand down the way thus madefor them. The others immediately followed, and all three stood lookingback. It was a wonder the building had stood so long, for in both storiesit was afire, and the walls had apparently burned quite through. Indeed, amoment later the whole structure collapsed. A fountain of sparks and brandssprang upward in the mighty suction. 

"There goes our good hose!" said Keith. 

The remark brought them to wrath and a desire for vengeance. 

"I'm going to lick somebody!" cried Keith, starting determinedly in thedirection of the engine. 

"We'll help, " growled Munro. 

But when they came in sight of the engine their anger evaporated, and theyclung to each other, weak with mirth. 

For the Monumental was "washed, " and washed aplenty. This was natural, fornow the water was pouring into her box from _both_ directions, and wouldcontinue so to pour until the hose coupled to Ward's engine had burnedthrough. The water was fairly spouting up from the box, not merelyoverflowing. Her crew were still working, but raggedly and dispiritedly. Bert Taylor, his trumpet battered beyond all recognition, was fairlyvoiceless with rage. An interested and ribaldry facetious crowd spared notits sarcasm. 

"My crowd must be in the same fix!" gurgled Ward; "the back pressure has'washed' them, too. " Then the full splendour of the situation burst on him, and he fell again on Munro for support. 

"Don't you see, " he gasped. "They'll never know! The hose will burnthrough. Unless we tell, they'll never know! We've got even, all right. "

At this moment Duane rode up, foaming at the mouth, and desiring to knowwhat the assorted adjectives they were doing there. The crews awoke totheir isolation and general uselessness. Bert Taylor, still simmering, descended from his perch. They followed the hose lines to glowing coals!

"Here, this won't do, " said Talbot; so they reported themselves before thenews of a tragedy had had time to spread. 

The fire was now practically under control. It had swept a city blockpretty clean, but had been confined to that area. An hour later theydragged their engine rather dispiritedly back to the house. Ordinarily theywould have been in high spirits. Fires were to these men a good deal of alark. The crews were very effective and well drilled, and the saving ofproperty was as well done as possible, but that was all secondary to thegame of it. But to-night they had been "washed, " they had lost the game, and the fact that they had put out the fire cut very little figure. Therewas much bickering. It seemed that Bert Taylor, in his enthusiasm, had, outof his own pocket, hired extra men who appeared at the critical moment torelieve the tired men at the brakes; and it was under their fresh impetusthat the Monumental had so triumphantly "sucked. " Now Bert Taylor wasfreely blamed. The regular men stoutly maintained that if they had beenleft alone this would never have happened. 

"These whiskey bummers never can last!" they said. Everybody troopedupstairs to the main rooms, where refreshments were served. After someconsideration Keith decided to tell his story in explanation of how it wasthat the Monumentals were washed. Instantly the company cheered up, Aclamour broke out. This was great! With Talbot Ward and Munro tocorroborate, no one could doubt the story. Taylor ran about jubilantly, returning every few moments to pat Keith on the shoulder. 

"Fine! fine!" he cried. "We've got those _Eurekas_! I can't wait formorning!"

XV

Keith got home about daylight to find Nan, terribly anxious, waiting up forhim. He brushed away her anxiety with the usual masculine impatience atbeing made a fuss over, gave a brief account of the fire--omitting mentionof his narrow escape--and insisted that she go to bed. After a few momentsshe obeyed, and immediately fell asleep. Keith bathed himself and changed, made a cup of coffee, and wandered about rather impatiently waiting fortime to go downtown. Wing Sam appeared, the morning paper came. The sungained strength, and finally tempted him outside. 

For some time he prowled around, examining Nan's efforts at gardening. There was not much to show as yet, but Keith had already the eye of faithso essential to the Californian, and saw plainly trees, shrubs, and flowerswhere now only spears of green were visible. The Morrells' garden next doorwas already well grown, and he cast on it an appraising eye. No sign oflife showed about the place except a thread of smoke from the kitchenchimney. It was still early. 

Nevertheless, five minutes later Mrs. Morrell opened the side door andstepped forth. She had on a wide leghorn hat, and carried a basket andscissors as though to gather flowers. Immediately she caught sight of Keithand waved him a gay greeting. He vaulted the fence and joined her. 

"Aren't these early morning hours perfect? Isn't this glorious sunshine?"she greeted him. 

As a matter of fact Mrs. Morrell seldom rose before noon, and detestedearly morning hours and glorious sunshine. She was inclined to consider theusual remarks in their praise as sheer affectation. But she adored fires, and often went to them when they promised well enough. Sometimes sheattended in company with certain of her men friends; and sometimes alone, cloaked as a man. She liked the destruction and stimulation of them. Shehad been to the fire just extinguished, and seeing Keith in the garden, hadput on her fluffiest and gone out to him. It was time this most attractiveyoung man next door paid her more attention. 

"How does the hero of the fire survive?" she asked him archly. 

"Hero?"

"Don't pretend ignorance. Charles told me all about it. He heard your taleat the Monumental. "

"It's hardly heroism to get out of a scrape the best way possible. "

"It's heroic to save lives, I think; but especially heroic to keep yourhead in an emergency. "

"Mr. Morrell all right?" asked Keith, to change the subject. 

"He is sleeping off the fire--and the after effects. You men need watchingevery minute--even when we think you must be in danger of your lives. "

She laughed and clipped a few flowers at random. 

"Have you been moving furniture all these days? We've seen nothing of you. I thought we were going to have some music. I do my little five-fingerexercises all by myself and nobody knows but I am playing Beethoven. Youought in Christian charity to help me out--whether you want to or not. Whatdo you think of our garden? Don't you adore flowers?"

"No, I don't believe I do, " replied Keith bluntly. "I like to see a prettywoman amongst 'em, " he went on gallantly, "they set her off. It's likedresses. No good to show me pretty frocks--unless they're filled. "

"La! You are so clever; at times I'm really afraid of you, " said she. 

She went on tossing a few blooms into her basket. Under the stimulus of thefire she had acted on impulse in going out into the garden. She realized itas perhaps a mistake. Keith's early morning freshness and fitness made herfeel less sure of herself than usual. She had an uneasy impression that shewas not at her best, and this reacted on her ability to exercise her usualmagnetism. In fact, Keith, the least observant of men in such things, couldnot avoid noticing her rather second-hand looking skin, and that herfeatures were more pronounced than he had thought. 

"Do come over this evening for some music, " she begged. "You can take a napthis afternoon, and you can go home early. "

Keith had been just a little uneasy over this second interview with Mrs. Morrell. His straightforward nature was inclined to look back on theimpression she had made on him at the supper party with a half-guilty senseof some sort of vague disloyalty he could not formulate. Now he felt muchsatisfied with himself, and quite relieved. Therefore, he accepted. 

"I shall be very glad to, " said he. 

At breakfast, which was rather late, he told Nan of the meeting and theinvitation. Nan's clear lines, fresh creamy skin, bright young eyes, lookedmore than usually attractive to him. 

"Perhaps she _can_ play, " he said. "Let's go find out. And you must wearyour prettiest gown; I'm proud of my wife, and I want her to look her verybest. "

A little later he remarked:

"I wonder if she isn't considerably older than Morrell. "

XVI

When he had at last reached downtown after his late breakfast, Keith foundit in a fair turmoil. Knots of men stood everywhere arguing, sometimes veryheatedly. Eureka members were openly expressing their anger over what theycalled Taylor's "dirty trick" in putting hirelings on the brakes, men whodid not belong to the Monumental organization at all. If it had not beenfor that the Monumentals could never have "sucked" at all. On the otherhand, the Monumentals and their friends were vehemently asserting that theywere well within their rights. Fists were brandished. Several fightsstarted, but were stopped before they had become serious. 

Keith avoided these storm centres, waving a friendly hand, but smilinglyrefusing to be drawn in. Near the Merchants' Exchange, however, he came ona quieter, attentive group, in the centre of which stood Calhoun Bennett. The Southerner's head was thrown back haughtily, but he was listening withentire courtesy to a violent harangue from a burly, red-faced man in roughclothes. 

"And I tell you that sort of a trick won't go down with nobody, and thestory of why you were washed won't wash itself. It's too thin. "

"I have the honah, suh, " said Bennett formally, "to info'm yo' that yo' donot know what yo' are talkin' about. "

His silken tones apparently enraged the man. 

"You silk-stockinged----of a----!" said he. 

Without haste Calhoun Bennett rapped the man across the face with his lightrattan cane. Venting a howl of rage, the Eureka partisan leaped forward. Calhoun Bennett, quick as a flash, drew a small derringer and fired; andthe man went down in a heap. Superbly nonchalant, Bennett, without a glanceat his victim, turned away, the ring of spectators parting to let himthrough. He saw Keith, and at once joined him, drawing the young man's armthrough his own. Keith, looking back, saw the man already sitting up, feeling his shoulder and cursing vigorously. 

Bennett was fairly radiating rage, which, however, he managed to suppressbeneath a well-bred exterior calm. 

"These hounds, suh, " he told Keith, "profess not to believe us, suh! Theyprofess, suh, that our explanation of how we were washed is a fabrication. You will oblige me, suh, by profferin' yo' personal testimony in the case. "

He faced Keith resolutely toward the Eureka engine house. Keith spared athought to wonder what he was being let in for by this handsome young fire-eater, but he went along unprotesting. 

Around the Eureka engine house was a big crowd of men. These fell silent asBennett and Keith approached. The Eurekas represented quite a differentsocial order from the Monumentals. Its membership was recruited from thosewho in the East had been small farmers, artisans, or workingmen in the moreskilled trades; independent, plain, rather rough, thoroughly democratic, atrifle contemptuous of "silk stockings, " outspoken, with little heed forniceties of etiquette or conduct. Bennett pushed his way through them towhere stood Carter, the chief, and several of the more influential. Keith, looking at them, met their eyes directed squarely into his. They weresteady, clear-looking, solid, rather coarse-grained, grave men. 

"I have brought Mr. Keith here, who was an eyewitness, to give histestimony as to the events of last evenin', " said Bennett formally. 

Keith told his story. It was received in a blank noncommittal silence. Themen all looked at him steadily, and said nothing. Somehow, he wasimpressed. This silence seemed to him, fancifully, more than mere lack ofwords--it conveyed a sense of reserve force, of quiet appraisal of himselfand his words, of the experiences of men who have been close to realities, who have _done_ things in the world. Keith felt himself to be bettereducated, to own a better brain, to have a wider outlook, to be possessed, in short, of all the advantages of superiority. He had never mingled withrough men, and he had always looked down on them. In this attitude was nocondescension and no priggishness, Now he felt, somehow, that the best ofthese men had something that he had not suspected, some force of characterthat raised them above his previous conception. They might be more thanmere "filling" in a city's population; they might well come to be anelement to be reckoned with. 

When he had quite finished his story, there ensued a slight pause. Thensaid Carter:

"We believe Mr. Keith. If Mr. Ward and Frank Munro were there, of coursethere can be no doubt. " Somehow Keith could not resent the implication; itwas too impersonally delivered. Carter went on with cold formality andemphasis; "Mr. Keith had a very narrow escape. It was lucky for him thatyour hired men had 'sucked' your waterbox. In view of that we can, ofcourse, no longer regret the fact. "

"It was a dirty trick just the same!" growled a voice out of the crowd. 

Carter turned a deliberate look in that direction, and nothing more wassaid. Bennett ignored the interruption, bowed frigidly, and turned away. The Eureka leaders nodded. In dead silence Keith and Bennett withdrew. 

"That settles _that_!" observed Bennett, when at a little distance. "A lotof cheap shopkeepers! It makes me disgusted every time I have anythin' todo with them!"

As they walked away, one of the hangers-on of the police court approached, touching his hat. 

"For you, Mr. Bennett, " he said most respectfully, proffering a paper. 

"Me?" observed Bennett, surprised. He unfolded the paper, glanced at it, and laughed. "I'm arrested for wingin' that 'shoulder-striker' up thestreet a while back, " he told Keith. 

"Anything I can do?" asked Keith anxiously. 

"Not a thing, thank you. There'll be no trouble at all--just a littlenuisance. May call you for a witness later. "

He went away with the officer, but shortly after Keith saw him on thestreet again. The matter had been easily arranged. 

Keith went to his office. In spite of himself he could not entirely takeBennett's point of view. Several of the men at Eureka headquarters lookedinteresting--he would like to know them--perhaps more than interesting, thepotentiality of a reasoning and directed power. 

XVII

The afternoon nap suggested by Mrs. Morrell was not enjoyed, and Keithreturned home feeling pretty tired and inclined to a quiet evening. Nan hadto remind him of his engagement. 

"Oh, let's send a note over by Wing, " he said, a little crossly. "I don'tfeel like making an effort to-night. "

But Nan's convention could not approve of anything quite so radically alast-minute decision. 

"It's a little late in the day for that, " she pointed out. "She may havestayed in just to see us. We can leave early. "

Keith went, grumbling. They found Mrs. Morrell in full evening dress, showing her neck and shoulders, which were her best points, for she wasfull bosomed and rounded without losing firmness of flesh. Nan was a trifletaken back at this gorgeousness, for she had not dressed. Keith, with hisusual directness, made no secret of pretending to be utterly overwhelmed. 

"I didn't know we were expected to dress for a real concert with flowers!"he cried, laughing. 

Mrs. Morrell shrugged her fine shoulders indifferently. 

"This old rag!" she said. "Don't let that bother you. I always like to puton something cool for the evening. It's such a relief. "

It developed that Morrell had an engagement, and could not stay. 

"He was so disappointed, " purred Mrs. Morrell. 

She was all eager for the music, brushing aside this and otherpreliminaries. 

"You play, sing?" she asked Nan. "What a pity! I'm afraid you're going tobe terribly bored. "

She turned instantly to Keith, hurrying him to the piano, giving theimpression of being too eager to wait--almost the eagerness of a drunkardin the presence of drink. And this in turn conveyed a vibrating feeling ofmagnetism, of temperament under restraint, of possibilities veiled. Theimpact struck Keith's responsive nature full. He waked up, approached thepiano with reviving interest. She struck idle chords and flashed at himover her shoulder a brilliant smile. 

"What shall it be?" she demanded, still with the undercurrent of eagerness. "You choose--a man's song--something soulful. I'm just in the mood. "

"Do you know the 'Bedouin Love Song?'" he inquired. 

"The 'Bedouin Love Song?' No--I'm afraid not. We are so far out of theworld. "

"It's a new thing. It goes like this. "

He hummed the air, and she followed it hesitatingly, feeling out theaccompaniment. Mrs. Morrell knew her instrument and had a quick ear. Occasionally Keith leaned over her shoulder to strike for her an elusivechord or modulation. In so doing he had to press close, and for all hishonest absorption in the matter at hand, could not help becoming aware ofher subtle perfume, the shine of her flesh, and the brightness of her crownof hair. 

"You play it, " she said suddenly. 

But he disclaimed the ability. 

"I don't know it any better than you do, and you improvise wonderfully. "

They became entirely absorbed in this most fascinating of tasks, theworking out little by little of a complicated accompaniment. 

"There!" she cried gayly at last. "I believe I have it. Let's try. "

Keith had a strong smooth baritone, not too well trained, but free fromglaring faults and mannerisms. It filled the little drawing-room ringingly. He liked the song, and he sang it with fire and a certain defiance thatsuited it. At its conclusion Mrs. Morrell sprang to her feet, breathingquickly, her usual hard, quick artificiality of manner quite melted. 

"It's wonderful!" she cried. "It lifts one right up! It makes me feel I'drun away----" She checked herself abruptly, and turned to where Nan sat inan armchair outside the circle of light, "Don't you just _adore_ it?" sheasked in a more restrained manner, and turned back to Keith, who wasstanding a little flushed and excited by the song, "You have just the voicefor it--with that vibrating deep quality. " She reseated herself at thepiano and struck several loud chords. Under cover of them she added, halfunder her breath, as though to herself, but distinctly audible to the manat her shoulder; "Luck for us all that you are already taken. "

Keith would have been no more than human if he had not followed this cuewith a look. She did not lower her eyes, but gave him back his gazedirectly. It was as though some secret understanding sprang up betweenthem, though Keith, --in half-angry confusion, could not have analyzed it. 

After this they compared notes until they found several songs they bothknew. Mrs. Morrell brushed aside Keith's suggestion that she herself shouldsing, but she did it in a way that left the implication that he was theimportant one vocally. 

"No, no! I've been starved too long. I'm as tired of my little reed of avoice as of the tinkle of a musical box. "

The close of the evening was brought about only by the return of Morrellfrom his engagement. Keith had utterly forgotten his fatigue, and wastingling with the enthusiasm to which his nature always rose understimulus. The Englishman, very self-contained, clean-cut, incisive, broughta new atmosphere. He was cordial and polite, but not expansive. Keith camedown from the clouds. He remembered, with compunction, Nan sitting in thearmchair, the lateness of the hour, his own fatigue. 

"You should hear Mr. Keith's new song, Charley, " said Mrs, Morrell. "It'sthe most wonderful thing! The 'Bedouin Love Song, ' You must surely sing itat the Firemen's Ball. It will make a great hit. No, you surely must. Witha voice like yours it is selfish not to use it for the benefit of all. Don't you agree with me, Mrs. Keith?"

"I'll sing it, if you will play my accompaniment, " said Keith. 

On their way home Keith's enthusiasm bubbled up again. 

"Isn't it great luck to find somebody to practise with?" he cried--"Unexpected luck in a place like this! I wish you cared for music. "

"Oh, I do, " said Nan. "I love it. But I just can't do it, that's all. "

"Did you like it to-night?"

"I liked it when you really _sang_" replied Nan with a little yawn, "but italways took you such a time to get at it. "

A short silence fell. 

"Are you really going to sing at the Firemen's Ball?" she asked curiously. 

"I haven't been asked yet, " he reminded her. "Don't you think it a goodidea?"

"Oh, I don't know, " said Nan, but her voice had a little edge. Keith feltit, and made the usual masculine blunder. He stopped short, thunderstruckat a new idea. 

"Why, Nan, " he cried reproachfully, "I don't believe you like her!"

"Like her!" she flashed back, her anger leaping to unreasonableproportions--"that old frump!"

No sooner had the door closed after them than Morrell's conventional smilefaded, and his countenance fell into its usual hard, cold impassivity. 

"Well, what is the game there?" he demanded. 

"There is no game, " she replied indifferently. 

"There is very little money there, I warn you, " he persisted. 

She turned on him with sudden fury. 

"Oh, shut up!" she cried. "I know my own business!"

"And I know mine, " he told her, slowly and dangerously. "And I warn you togo slow unless I give the word. "

She stared at him a moment, and he stared back. Then, quite deliberately, she walked over to him until her breast almost touched him. Her eyes werehalf closed, and a little smile parted her full lips. 

"Charley, " she drawled wickedly, "I warn _you_ to go slow. And I warn younot to interfere with me--or I might interfere with you!"

Morrell shrugged his shoulders, and turned away with an assumption ofindifference. 

"Please yourself. But I can't afford a scandal just now. "

"_You_ can't afford a _scandal!_" she cried, and laughed hardly. 

"Not just now, " he repeated. 

XVIII

Perhaps this unwise antagonizing by her husband, perhaps the idleness withwhich the well-to-do woman was afflicted, perhaps a genuine liking forKeith, gave Mrs. Morrell just the impulse needed. At any rate, she used thecommon bond of music to bring him much into her company. This was not adifficult matter. Keith was extravagantly fond of just this sort ofexperimental amateur excursions into lighter music, and he liked Mrs. Morrell. She was a good sort, straightforward and honest and direct, nononsense in her, but she knew her way about, and a man could have a sort ofpleasing, harmless flirtation to which she knew how to play up. There wasnot, nor could there be--in Keith's mind--any harm in their relations. Nanwas the woman for him; but that didn't mean that he was never to seeanybody else, or that other women might not--of course in unessential andsuperficial ways--answer some of his varied needs. 

Mrs. Morrell was skilful at keeping up his interest, and she was equallyskilful in gradually excluding Nan. This was not difficult, for Nan wassecretly bored by the eternal practising, and repelled by Mrs. Morrell'sefforts to be fascinating. She saw them plainly enough, but was at firstmerely amused and faintly disgusted, for she was proud enough to believeabsolutely that such crude methods could have no effect on Milton, overlooking the fact that the crudities of women never appear as plainly toa man as they do to another woman. For a woman is in the know. At first sheoffered one excuse or another, in an attempt to be both polite andplausible. She much preferred a book at home, or a whole free evening towork at making her house attractive. Later, Keith got into the habit oftaking her attitude for granted. 

"I promised to run over to the Morrells' this evening, " he would say, "Moremusic. Of course you won't care to come. You won't be lonely? I won't begone late. "

"Of course not, " she laughed. "I'm thankful for the chance to get throughwith the blue room. "

Nevertheless, after a time she began to experience a faint, unreasonableresentment; and Keith an equally faint, equally unreasonable feeling ofguilt. 

Left to itself this situation would, therefore, have righted itself, butMrs. Morrell was keen enough to give it the required directing touches:

"Too bad we can't tear your wife away from her house and garden. "

"If you only had some one to practise with regularly at home! Your voiceought to be systematically cultivated. It is wonderful!"

And later:

"You ought not to come here so much, I suppose--" rather doubtfully, "Anysort of practice and accompaniment--even my poor efforts--does you so muchgood! You or I would understand perfectly, but it is sometimes so difficultfor the inexperienced domestic type to comprehend! An older woman whounderstands men knows--but come, we must sing that once more. "

The effect of these and a thousand similar speeches injected apparently atrandom here and there in the tide of other things was at once to intensifyKeith's vague feeling of guilt, and to put it in the light somehow of aninjustice to himself. He had an unformulated notion that if Nan would orcould only understand the situation and be a good fellow that every onewould be happy; but as she was a mere woman, with a woman's prejudices, this was impossible. It was absurd to expect him to give up his music justbecause she wanted to be different! He had really nothing whatever toconceal; and yet it actually seemed that difficulty and concealment wouldbe necessary if this sort of unspoken reproach were kept up. Women were soconfoundedly single-minded!

And as the normal, healthy, non-introspective male tends to avoiddiscomfort, even of his own making, it thus came about that Keith spentless and less time at home. He did not explain to himself why. It wascertainly no lessening of his affection for Nan. Only he felt absolutelysure of her, and the mental situation sketched above left him more open tothe lure of downtown, which to any live man was in those days especiallygreat. Every evening the "fellows" got together, jawed things over, playedpool, had a drink or so, wandered from one place to another, looked withthe vivid interest of the young and able-bodied on the seething, colourful, vital life of the new community. It was all harmless and mighty pleasant. Keith argued that he was "establishing connections" and meeting men whocould do his profession good, which was more or less true; but it took himfrom home evenings. 

Nan, at first, quite innocently played into his hands. She really preferredto stay at home rather than be bored at the Morrells'. Later, when thistradition had been established, she began to be disturbed, not by anysuspicion that Milton's interest was straying, but by a feeling of neglect. She was hurt. And little by little, in spite of herself, a jealousy of thewoman next door began to tinge her solitude. Her nature was too noble andgenerous to harbour such a sentiment without a struggle. She blamed herselffor unworthy and wretched jealousy, and yet she could not help herself. Often, especially at first, Keith in an impulse would throw over his plans, and ask her to go to the theatre or a concert, of which there were many andexcellent. She generally declined, not because she did not want to go, butbecause of that impelling desire, universal in the feminine soul, to be alittle wooed to it, to be compelled by gentle persuasion that should atonce make up for the past and be an earnest for the future. Only Keith tookher refusal at its face value. Nan was lonely and hurt. 

Her refusals to respond to his rather spasmodic attempts to be nice to herwere adopted by Keith's subconscious needs for comfort. If she didn't wantto see anything of life, she shouldn't expect him to bury himself. Hisrestless mind gradually adopted the fiction persistently held before him byMrs. Morrell that his wife was indeed a domestic little body, fond only ofher home and garden. As soon as he had hypnotized himself into the fullacceptance of this, he felt much happier, His uneasiness fell from him, andhe continued life with zest. If any one had told him that he was neglectingNan, he probably would have been surprised. They were busy; they metamicably; there were no reproaches; they managed to get about and enjoythings together quite a lot. 

The basis for the latter illusion rested on the Sunday excursions andpicnics. Both the Keiths always attended them. There was invariably thesame crowd--the Morrells; Dick Blatchford, the contractor, and his fat, coarse-grained, good-natured Irish wife; Calhoun Bennett; Ben Sansome:Sally Warner, a dashing grass widow, whose unknown elderly husband seemedto be always away "at the mines"; Teeny McFarlane, small, dainty, precise, blond, exquisite, cool, with very self-possessed manners and decided ways, but with the capacity for occasionally and with deliberation outdoing theworst of them, about whom were whispered furtive things the rumour of whichdied before her armoured front; her husband, a fat, jolly, round-faced, somewhat pop-eyed man who adored her and was absolutely ignorant of oneside of her. These and a sprinkling of "fast" youths made the party. Sometimes the celebrated Sam Brannan went along, loud, coarse, shrewd, bullvoiced, kindly when not crossed, unscrupulous, dictatorial, andoverbearing, They all got to know each other very well and to be very freein one another's society, The usual procedure was to drive in buggies, sometimes to the beach, sometimes down the peninsula, starting rather early, and staying out allday. Occasionally rather elaborate lunches were brought, with servants tospread them; but the usual custom was to stop at one of the numerous roadhouses. No man drove, walked, or talked with his own wife; nevertheless, these affairs though rowdy, noisy, and "fast" enough, were essentiallyharmless. The respectable members of the community were sufficientlyshocked, however. Gay dresses, gay laughter, gay behaviour, gay scorn ofconvention, above all, the resort to the mysterious naughty road houseswere enough. It must be confessed that at times things seemed to go a bitfar; but Nan, who was at first bewildered and shocked, noticed that thewomen did many things in public and nothing in private. As already her mindand tolerance were adapting themselves to new things, she was able toaccept it all philosophically as part of a new phase of life. 

These people had no misgivings about themselves, and they passed judgmenton others with entire assurance. In their slang all with whom they cameinto contact were either "hearses" or "live Mollies. " There was nothingracial, local, or social in this division. A family might be divided, onemember being a live Molly, and all the rest the most dismal of hearses. Occasionally a stranger might be brought along. He did not know it, butalways he was very carefully watched and appraised: his status discussedand decided at the supper to which the same people--minus all strangers--gathered later. At one of these discussions a third estate came into being. 

Teeny McFarlane had that day brought with her a young man of about twenty-four or twenty-five, well dressed, of pleasant features, agreeable inmanner, well spoken, but quiet. 

"He isn't a live Molly, " stated Sally positively. 

"Well, Sally took a walk with him, " observed Sam Brannan dryly; "she oughtto know!"

"Don't need to take a walk with him, " countered Sally; "just take a talkwith him--or try to. ". 

"I did try to, " interpolated Mrs. Morrell. 

"May as well make it unanimous, looks like, " said Sam. "He goes for ahearse. "

But Teeny McFarlane interposed in her positive, precise little way. 

"I object, " she drawled. "He certainly isn't as bad as all that. He's anice boy, and he never bored anybody in his life. Did he bore you, Sally?"

"I can't say he did, now you mention it. He's one of those nice doggypeople you don't mind having around. "

They discussed the matter animatedly. Teeny McFarlane developed anunexpected obstinacy. She did not suggest that the young man was to beincluded in any of the future parties; indeed, she answered the directquestion decidedly in the negative; no, there was no use trying to includeanybody unless they decidedly "belonged. "

"You wouldn't call him a live Molly, now would you, Teeny?" implored CalBennett. 

"No, " she answered slowly, "I suppose not. But he is _not_ a hearse. "

The men, all but Popsy McFarlane, were inspecting Teeny's cool, unrevealingexterior with covert curiosity. She was always an enigma to them. Each manwas asking himself why her interest in the mere labelling of this stranger. 

"He isn't a live Molly and she objects to his being a hearse, " laughedSally. "He must be something between them. What, " she inquired, with theair of propounding a conundrum, "is between a live Molly and a hearse?"

"Give it up!" they cried unanimously. 

Sally looked nonplussed, then shrieked: "Why, the pallbearers, of course!"

The silly phrase caught. Thereafter, those who were acknowledged to be allright enough but not of their feather were known as "pallbearers. "

The Keiths were live Mollies. He was decidedly one. His appearance aloneinspired good nature and high spirits, he looked so clean, vividlycoloured, enthusiastic, alive to his finger tips. He was always game foranything, no matter how ridiculous it made him, or in what sort of a so-called false position it might place him. When he had reached a certainstate of dancing-eyed joyous recklessness, Nan was always athrill as towhat he might do next. And Nan, spite of her quieter ways and the reservesimposed on her by her breeding, was altogether too pretty and too much of areal person ever to be classed as a hearse. With her ravishing Easterntoilettes, her clear, creamy complexion, and the clean-cut lines of herthroat, chin, and cheeks, she always made the other women look a little toovividly accented. The men all admired her on sight, and at first did theirbest to interest her. They succeeded, for in general they were of vitalstuff, but not in the intimately personal way they desired. Her naturefound no thrill in experiment. One by one they gave her up in the favour ofless attractive but livelier or more complaisant companions; but theycontinued to like her and to pay her much general attention. She never, inany nuance of manner, even tried to make a difference; nevertheless, theirattitude toward her was always more deferential than to the other women. 

Ben Sansome was the one exception to the first part of the above statement. Her gentle but obvious withdrawals from his advances piqued his conceit. Ben was a spoiled youth, with plenty of money; and he had always been aspoiled youth, with plenty of money. Why he had come to San Francisco noone knew. Possibly he did not know himself; for as his affairs had alwaysbeen idle, he had drifted much, and might have drifted here. Whatever thereason, the fact remained that in this busy, new, and ambitious communityhe was the one example professionally of the gilded youth. His waistcoats, gloves, varnished boots, jewellery, handkerchiefs were always patterns tothe other amateur, gilded youths who had also other things to do. Hissocial tact was enormous, and a recognized institution. If there had beencotillons, he would have led them; but as there were no cotillons, hecontented himself with being an _arbiter elegantiarum_. He rather pridedhimself on his knowledge of such things as jades, old prints, and obscurepoets of whom nobody else had ever heard. Naturally he had always been agreat success with women, both as harmless parlour ornaments, and in moredangerous ways. In San Francisco he had probably carried farther than hewould have carried anywhere else. He had sustained no serious reverses, because difficult game had not heretofore interested him. Entering halfinterestedly with Nan into what he vaguely intended as one of his numerous, harmless, artistic, perfumed flirtationlets, he had found himselfunexpectedly held at arm's length. Just this was needed to fillip hisfancy. He went into the game as a game. Sansome made himself useful. Bydint of being on hand whenever Keith's carelessness had left her in need ofan escort, and only then, he managed to establish himself on a recognizedfooting as a sort of privileged, charming, useful, harmless family friend. 

Outside this small, rather lively coterie the Keiths had very few friends. It must be confessed that the mothers of the future leaders of SanFrancisco society, and the bearers of what were to be her proudest names, were mostly "hearses. " Their husbands were the forceful, able men of thecity, but they themselves were conventional as only conventional women canbe when goaded into it by a general free-and-easy, unconventionalatmosphere. That was their only method of showing disapproval. The effectwas worthy but dull. It was a pity, for among them were many intelligent, charming women who needed only a different atmosphere, to expand. TheKeiths never saw them, and gained their ideas of them only from themerciless raillery of the "live Mollies. "

All this implied more or less entertaining, and entertaining was expensive. The Boyle house was expensive for that matter; and about everything else, save Chinese servants, and, temporarily, whatever the latest clipper shiphad glutted the market with. Keith had brought with him a fair sum of moneywith which to make his start; but under this constant drainage, it dwindledto what was for those times a comparatively small sum. Clients did notcome. There were more men practising law than all the other professions. Inspite of wide acquaintance and an attractive popular personality, Keith hadnot as yet made a start. He did not worry--that was not his nature--but hebegan to realize that he must do one of two things: either make some money, somehow, or give up his present mode of living. The latter course wasunthinkable!

XIX

One morning Keith was sitting in his office cogitating these things. Hisdoor opened and a meek, mild little wisp of a man sidled in. He held hishat in his hand, revealing clearly sandy hair and a narrow forehead. Hiseyebrows and lashes were sandy, his eyes pale blue, his mouth weak butobstinate. On invitation he seated himself on the edge of the chair, andlaid his hat carefully beside him on the floor. 

"I am Dr. Jacob Jones, " he said, blinking at Keith. "You have heard of me?"

"I am afraid I have not, " said Keith pleasantly. 

The little man sighed. 

"I have held the City Hospital contract for three years, " he explained, "and they owe me a lot of money. I thought you might collect some of it. "

"I think if you'd put in a claim through the usual channels you'd receiveyour dues, " advised Keith, somewhat puzzled. He had not heard that the citywas refusing to pay legitimate claims. 

"I've done that, and they've given me these, " said Doctor Jones, handingKeith a bundle of papers. 

Keith glanced at them. 

"This is 'scrip, '" he said. "It's perfectly good. When the city is withoutcurrent funds it issues this scrip, bearing interest at 3 per cent. Amonth. It's all right. "

"Yes, I know, " said the little man ineffectually, "but I don't want scrip. "

Keith ran it over. It amounted to something like eleven thousand dollars. 

"What do you want done about it?" he asked, "I want you to collect the money for me. "

But Keith, had recollected something. 

"Just wait a minute, please, " he begged, and darted across the hall to afriend's office, returning after a moment with a file of legislativereports. "I thought I'd heard something about it; here it is. The StateLegislature has voted an issue of 10 per cent. Bonds to take up the scrip. "

"I don't understand, " said Doctor Jones. 

"Why, you take your scrip to the proper official and exchange it for anequal value of State bonds. "

"But what good does that do me?" cried Jones excitedly. "It doesn't get memy money. They don't guarantee I can sell the bonds at par, do they? Andanswer me this: isn't it just a scheme to cheat me of my interest? As Iunderstand it, instead of 3 per cent. A month I'm to get 10 per cent. Ayear?"

"That's the effect, " corroborated Keith. 

"Well, I don't want bonds, I want money, as is my due. "

"Wait a minute, " said Keith. He read the report again slowly. "This saysthat holders of scrip _may_ exchange, for bonds; it does not say they_must_ exchange, " he said finally. "If that interpretation is made of thelaw, suit and judgment would lie against the city. Do you want to trythat?"

"Of course I want to try it!" cried Jones. 

"Well, bring me your contract and vouchers, and any other papers to do withthe case, and I'll see what can be done. "

"I have them right here, " said Doctor Jones. 

This, as Keith's first case, interested him more than its intrinsic worthwarranted. It amused him to bring all his powers to bear, fighting stronglyfor the technical point, and finally establishing it in court. In spite ofthe evident intention of the Legislature that city scrip should be retiredin favour of bonds, it was ruled that the word _may_ in place of the word_must_ practically nullified that intention. Judgment was obtained againstthe city for eleven thousand dollars, and the sheriff was formallyinstructed to sell certain water-front lots in order to satisfy thatjudgment. The sale was duly advertised in the papers. 

Next morning, after the first insertion of this advertisement, Keith hadthree more callers. These were men of importance: namely, John Geary, thefirst postmaster and last _alcalde_ of the new city; William Hooper, andJames King of William, at that time still a banker. These were grave, solid, and weighty citizens, plainly dressed, earnest, and forceful. Theyresponded politely but formally to Keith's salute, and seated themselves. 

"You were, I understand, counsel for Doctor Jones in obtaining judgment onthe hospital scrip?" inquired Geary. 

"That is correct, " acknowledged Keith. 

"We have called to inform you of a fact that perhaps escaped your notice:namely, that these gentlemen and myself have been appointed by theLegislature as commissioners to manage the funded debt of the city; that, for that purpose, title of all city lands has been put in our hands. "

"No, I did not know that, " said Keith. 

"Therefore, you see, " went on Geary, "the sheriff cannot pass title to anylots that might be sold to satisfy Doctor Jones's judgment. "

Keith pondered, his alert mind seizing with avidity on this new andinteresting situation. 

"No, I cannot quite see that, " he said at last; "the actual title is in thecity. It owns its property. You gentlemen do not claim to own it, asindividuals. You have delegated to you the power to pass title, just as thesheriff and one or two others have that power; but you have not the _sole_power. "

"We have advice that title conveyed under this judgment will be invalid. "

"That is a matter for the courts to settle. "

"The courts----" began Hooper explosively, but Geary overrode him. 

"If all the creditors of the city were to adopt the course pursued byDoctor Jones, the city would soon be bankrupt of resources. "

"That is true, " agreed Keith. 

"Then cannot I appeal to your sense of civic patriotism?"

"Gentlemen, " replied Keith, "you seem to forget that in this matter I amnot acting for myself, but for a client. If it were my affair, I might feelinclined to discuss the matter with you more in detail. But I am only anagent. "

"But----" interrupted Hooper again. 

"That is quite true, " interjected James King of William. 

"Well, we shall see your client, " went on Geary, "But I might state that onthe side of his own best interests he would do well to go slow. There is atleast a considerable doubt as to the legality of this sale. It is unlikelythat people will care to bid. "

After some further polite conversation they took their leave. Keith quicklydiscovered that the opinion held by the commissioners was shared by most ofhis friends. They acknowledged the brilliance of his legal victory, admiredit heartily, and congratulated him; but they considered that victorybarren. 

"Nobody will buy; you won't get two bits a lot bid, " they all told him. 

Little Doctor Jones came to him much depressed. The commissioners hadtalked with him. 

"Do you want my advice?" asked Keith, "Then do this: stick to your guns. "

But little Jones was scared. 

"I want my money, " said he; "perhaps I'd better take those bonds afterall. "

"Look here, " suddenly said Keith, who had been making up his mind. "I'llguarantee you the full amount in cash, within, say, two weeks, but only onthis condition: that you go out now, and spread it about everywhere thatyou are going to stand pat. Tell 'em all you are going to push through thissale. "

"How do I know----"

"Take a chance, " interrupted Keith. "If at the end of two weeks I don't payyou cash, you can do what you please. Call off the sheriff's sale at thelast minute; I'll pay the costs myself. Come, that's fair enough. You can'tlose a cent. "

"All right, " agreed Jones after a minute. 

"Remember: it's part of the bargain that you state everywhere that you'regoing to force this sale, and that you don't let anybody bluff you. "

The affair made quite a little stir. Men like Sam Brannan, Dick Blatchford, the contractor, and Jim Polk discussed Keith and his ability. 

"Got a pretty wife, too, " added Brannan. "--never heard of the fall ofman. "

"Well, she's going to, if the Morrell woman has her way, " observed BenSansome dryly. 

Polk stretched his long legs, and smiled his desiccated little smile. 

"He's a pretty enterprising youngster--more ways than one, " said he. 

XX

On the evening of the third day after his latest interview with DoctorJones, Keith threw down his paper with a cry of triumph. He had beenscanning the columns of every issue with minute care, combing even the fineprint for the auctioneer's advertisements. Here was what he wanted: top ofcolumn, third page, where every one would be sure to see it. Thecommissioners issued a signed statement, calling public attention to thedetails of their appointment, and warning that titles issued undersheriff's sale would be considered invalid. 

Keith read this with great attention, then drew his personal check againstPalmer, Cook & Co. For eleven thousand dollars in favour of Doctor Jones. After some search he unearthed the little man in a downtown rookery, andfrom him obtained an assignment of his judgment against the city. DoctorJones lost no time spreading the news, with the additional statement thathe considered himself well out of the mess. He proceeded to order himself along-coveted microscope, and was thenceforth lost to sight among low-tiderocks and marine algae. The sheriff's sale came off at the advertised date. There were no bidders; the commissioners' warning had had its effect. Keithhimself bought in the lots for $5, 000. This check about exhausted hisresources. This, less costs, was, of course, paid back to himself as holderof the judgment. He had title, such as it was, for about what he had givenJones. 

The bargain amused Keith's acquaintance hugely. Whenever he appeared he wasdeluged with chaff, all of which he took, good naturedly. He wasconsidered, in a moment of aberration, to have bought an exceedinglydoubtful equity. Some thought, he must have a great deal of money, arguingthat only the owner of a fat bank account could afford to take such fliers;others considered that he must have very little sense. Keith was apparentlyunperturbed. He at once began to look about him, considering the next stepin his scheme. Since this investment had taken nearly every cent he hadleft, it was incumbent to raise more money at once. 

He called on John Sherwood at the Empire. The gambler listened to himattentively. 

"I can't go into it, " he said, when Keith had finished. A slight smilesketched itself on his strong, impassive face. "Not that I do not believeit will work; I think it will. But I have long made it a rule never to tryto make money outside my own business--which is gambling. I never adoptordinary honest methods. "

Keith's honest but legally trained mind failed to notice the quiet sarcasmof this. "Well, you know everybody in town. Where can I go?"

Sherwood thought a moment. 

"I'll take you to Malcolm Neil, " he said at last. It was Keith's turn tolook thoughtful. 

"All right, " he said at last. "But not just right away. Give me a couple ofdays to get ready. "

At the appointed time Sherwood escorted Keith to Malcolm Neil's office, introduced and left him. Keith took the proffered wooden chair, examininghis man with the keenest attention. 

Malcolm Neil, spite of his Scotch name, was a New Englander by birth. Hehad come out in '49, intending, like everybody else, to go to the mines, but had never gone farther than San Francisco. The new city offered amplescope for his talents, and he speedily became, not only rich, but adominating personality among financial circles. He accomplished this bysupplementing his natural ability with absolute singleness of purpose. Itwas known that his sole idea was the making of money. He was reputed to behard, devoid of sentiment, unscrupulous. Naturally he enjoyed nopopularity, but a vast respect. More people had heard of him, or felt hispower, than had seen him; for he went little abroad, and preferred to workthrough agents. John Sherwood's service in obtaining for Keith a personalinterview was a very real one. Neil's offices were small, dingy, and illlighted, at the back of one of the older and cheaper buildings. In theouter of the two were three bookkeepers; the other contained only a desk, two chairs, and an engraving of Daniel Webster addressing the Senate. 

The man himself sat humped over slightly, his head thrust a little forwardas though on the point of launching a truculent challenge. He was lean, gray, with bushy, overhanging brows, eyes with glinting metallic surfaces, had long sinewy hands, and a carved granite and inscrutable face, His fewwords of greeting revealed his voice as harsh, grating and domineering. 

Keith, reading his man, wasted no time in preliminaries. 

"Mr. Neil, " he said, "I have a scheme by which a great deal of money can bemade. "

Neil grunted. If it had not been for the fact that John Sherwood hadintroduced the maker of that speech, the interview would have hereterminated. Malcolm Neil deeply distrusted men with schemes to make largesums of money. After a time, as Keith still waited, he growled;

"What is it?"

"That, " said Keith, "I shall not disclose until my standing in the matteris assured. "

"What do you want?" growled Neil. 

"Fifty per cent of the profits, if you go in. "

"What do you want of me?"

"The capital. "

"What is the scheme?"

"That I cannot tell you without some assurance of your good intention. "

"What do you expect?" rasped Neil, "that I go into this blind?"

"I have prepared this paper, " said Keith, handing him a document. 

Neil glanced over the paper, then read it through slowly, with great care. When he had finished, he looked up at Keith, and there was a gleam ofadmiration in his frosty eye. 

"You are a lawyer, I take it?" he surmised. 

Keith nodded. Neil went over the document for the third time. 

"And a good one, " added Neil. "This is watertight. It seems to be acontract agreeing to the division you suggest, _providing_ I go into thescheme. Very well, I'll sign this. " He raised his voice. "Samuels, come inand witness this. Now, what is the scheme?"

Keith produced another paper. 

"It is written out in detail here. "

Neil reached for it, but Keith drew it back. 

"One moment. "

He turned it over on the blank side and wrote:

"This is in full the financial deal referred to in contract entered intothis 7th of June, 1852, by Malcolm Neil and Milton Keith. "

To this he appended his signature, then handed the pen to Neil. 

"Sign, " he requested. 

Neil took the pen, but hesitated for some moments, his alert brain seekingsome way out. Finally and grudgingly he signed. Then he leaned back in hischair, eying Keith with rather a wintry humour, though he made no comment. He reached again for the paper, but Keith put his hand on it. 

"What more do you want?" inquired Neil in amused tones. His sense of humourhad been touched on its only vulnerable point. He appreciated keen andsubtle practice when he saw it, "Not a thing, " laughed Keith, "but a few words of explanation before youread that will make it more easily understood. Can you tell me how muchwater lots are worth?"

"Five to eight thousand for fifty varas. "

"All right. I've bought ten fifty vara lots at sheriff's sale for fivethousand dollars. "

Neil's eye went cold. 

"I've heard of that. Your title is no good. The reason you got them socheaply was that nobody would bid because of that. "

"That's for the courts to decide. The fact remains that I've a title, eventhough clouded, at $500 per lot. "

"Proceed. "

"Well, the commissioners are now advertising a sale of these same lots atauction on the 15th. "

"So I see. "

"Well, " said Keith softly, "it strikes me that whoever buys these lots thenis due for a heap of trouble. "

"How so?"

"My title from the sheriff may be clouded, but it will be contested againstthe title given at that sale. The purchaser will have to defend himself upto the highest court. I can promise him a good fight. "

Neil was now watching him steadily, "If that fact could be widely advertised, " went on Keith slowly, "by way ofa threat, so to speak, it strikes me it would be very apt to discouragebidding at the commissioners' sale. Nobody wants to buy a lot of lawsuits, at any price. In absence of competition, a fifty vara lot might be sold foras low as--say $500. "

Neil nodded, Keith leaned forward. 

"Now here's my real idea: suppose _I_ buy in against this timid bidding. Suppose _I_ am the one who gets the commissioners' title for $500. Then Ihave both titles. And I am not likely to contest against myself. It's costme $1, 000 per lot--$500 at each sale--a profit of from $4, 000 to $7, 000 oneach lot. "

He leaned back. Malcolm Neil sat like a graven image, no expression showingon his flintlike face nor in his eyes. At length he chuckled harshly. Then, and not until then, Keith proceeded:

"But that isn't all. There's plenty more scrip afloat. If you can buy up asmuch of it as you can scrape together, I'll get judgment for it in thecourts, and we can enlarge the deal until somebody smells a rat. We needseveral things. "

"What?"

"Secrecy. "

Neil made no reply, but the lines of his mouth straightened. 

"Influence to push matters along in official circles. "

"Matters will be pushed along. "

"A newspaper. "

"Leave that to me. "

"Agents--not known to be connected with us. "

Neil nodded. 

"Working capital--but that is provided for in the contract. And"--hehesitated--"it will not harm to have these matters brought before a courtwhose judge is not unfriendly. "

"I can arrange for that, Mr. Keith. "

Keith arose. 

"Then that is settled. " He picked up the duplicate copy of the contract. "There remains only one other formality. "

"Yes? What?"

"Your check for $12, 000. "

"What for?"

"For my expenses in this matter up to date. "

"What!" cried Neil. 

"The contract specifies that you are to furnish the working capital, " Keithpointed out. 

"But that means the future--"

"It doesn't say so. "

Neil paused a moment. 

"This contract would not hold in law, and you know it, " he asserted boldly. "It would be held to be an illegal conspiracy. "

"I would be pleased to have you point out the illegality in court, " saidKeith coldly, his manner as frosty as Neil's. "And if conspiracy exists, your name is affixed to it. "

Neil pondered this point a moment, then drew his checkbook toward him witha grim little smile. 

"Young man, you win, " said he. 

Keith thawed to sunniness at once. 

"Oh, we'll work together all right, once we understand each other, " helaughed. "Send your man out after scrip. Let him report to me. "

Neil arose rather stiffly, and extended his hand. 

"All right, all right!" he muttered, as though impatient. "Keep In touch. Good-day. Good-day. "

XXI

The time for the annual Firemen's Ball was now at hand. At this period theFiremen's Ball was an institution of the first social importance. As hasbeen shown, the various organizations were voluntary associations, and intheir ranks birds of a feather flocked together. On the common meetingground of the big annual function all elements met, even--if they did notmingle as freely as they might. 

In any case, the affair was very elaborate and very gorgeous. Preparationswere in the hands of special committees months in advance. One company hadcharge of the refreshments, another of the music, a third of the floorarrangements, and so on. There was much jealous anxiety that each should doits part thoroughly and lavishly, for the honour of its organization. Themembers of each committee were distinguished by coloured ribbons, whichthey wore importantly everywhere. An air of preoccupied business was theproper thing for days before the event. 

It was held this year in one of the armouries. The decoration committee haddone its most desperate. Flags of all nations and strips of colouredbunting draped the rafters; greens from the Sausalito Hills framed thewindows and doors; huge oiled Chinese lanterns swayed from the roofs. Thefloor shone like glass. At either end bowers of green half concealed theorchestras--two of them, that the music might never cease. The side roomswere set for refreshments. Many chairs lined the walls. Hundreds of lampsand reflectors had been nailed up in every conceivable place. It took anegro over an hour to light them all. Near the door stood a wide, flattable piled high with programs for the dancers. These were elaborateaffairs, and had cost a mint of money--vellum folders, emblazoned in colouroutside, with a sort of fireman heraldry and the motto: "We strive tosave. " Gilded pencils on short silken tasselled cords dangled from theircorners. 

At eight o'clock the lights were all blazing, the orchestras were tuning, and the floor fluttered with anxious labelled committeemen dashing to andfro. There was nothing for them to do, but they were nervous. By half-pasteight the first arrivals could be seen hesitating at the outer door, asthough reluctant to make a plunge; herded finally to the right and left ofmen's and women's dressing-rooms. After a long, chattering interval, encouraged by the slow accumulation of numbers, a little group debouched onthe main, floor. Its members all talked and laughed feverishly, and triedwith varying success to assume an accustomed ease they did not feel. Mostof the women, somehow, seemed all white gloves and dancing slippers, andbore themselves rather like affable, slightly scared rabbits. The mensuddenly became very facetious, swapping jokes in loud tones. 

The orchestra at the far end immediately struck up, but nobody ventured onthe huge and empty floor. Masters of ceremonies, much bebadged, ratherconscious of white gloves, strove earnestly with hurried, ingratiatingsmiles to induce the younger members to break the ice. Ben Sansome, remarkable among them for his social ease and the unobtrusive correctnessof his appointments, responsible head of the reception committee, masterfully seized a blushing, protesting damsel and whirled her away. This, however, was merely an informal sort of opening. The real bail couldstart only with the grand march; and the grand march was a pompous andintricate affair, possible only after the arrival of the city's elite. Partners for the grand march had been bespoken months before. 

The Keiths arrived about half-past nine. Nan was looking particularly wellin her girlish fashion. Her usual delicate colour was heightened byanticipation, for she intended ardently to "have a good time. " For thisoccasion, too, she had put on the best of her new Eastern clothes, and wasconfident of the sensation they would create in the feminine breast. Thegown was of silk the colour of pomegranate blossoms, light and filmy, withthe wide skirts of the day, the short sleeves, the low neck. Over bodiceand skirt had been gracefully trailed long sprays of blossoms. Similarflowers wreathed her head, on which the hair was done low and smooth, witha golden arrow securing it. A fine golden chain spanned her waist. From itdangled smaller chains at the ends of which depended little golden hands. These held up the front of the skirt artistically, at just the right heightfor dancing and to show flounces and ravishing petticoats beneath. It wasan innovation of the sort the feminine heart delights in, a brand-new thingstraight from Paris. Nan's gloves were of half length, the backs of thehands embroidered and displaying each several small sparkling jewels. Thebroad golden bracelets had been clasped outside the gloves. Around herlittle finger was a ring from which depended, on the end of a chain, alarger ring, and through this larger ring hung her dainty lacehandkerchief. This was innovation number two. The men all stared at herproud, delicate, flowerlike effect of fresh beauty; but every womanpresent, and Nan knew it, noted first, the cut of her gown, second, thedangling little golden hands, and third, the handkerchief ring. She knewthat not later than to-morrow at least a half-dozen urgent orders would bebooked at Palmerston's; but she knew, also, that at least six months mustelapse before those orders could be filled. As for the rest, her stockingswere white, her slippers ribboned with cross-ties up the ankles, shecarried a stiff and formal bouquet, as big around as a plate, composed ofwired flowers ornamented with a "cape" of lace paper; but those things werecommon. 

Altogether, Nan looked extraordinarily well, made a sensation. Keith waspleased and proud of her. He picked one of the blazoned vellum cards fromthe table and scrawled his initials opposite half a dozen dances. 

"I'm going to hold you to those, you know, " he said. 

They proceeded, leisurely across the floor, and Keith established her inone of the chairs. 

"I'll go get some of the men I want you to meet, " said he. When he returnedwith Bernard Black he found Nan already surrounded, Ben Sansome was there, and Calhoun Bennett, and a half-dozen others, either acquaintances made onsome of the Sundays, or young men brought up by Sansome in his capacity ofMaster of Ceremonies. She was having a good time laughing, her colour high, Keith looked about him with the intention of filling his own card. 

Mrs, Morrell, surrounded by a hilarious group of the younger fry, was justentering the room. She was dressed in flame colour, and her gown was cutvery low, plainly to reveal the swell of her ample bosom. Her eveninggloves and slippers were golden, as was a broad metallic woven band aroundher waist. Altogether, striking, rather a conspicuous effort than anartistic success, any woman would have said; but there could be no doubtthat she had provided a glittering bait for the attentions of the men. 

Keith immediately made his way across to her. 

"You are ravishing this evening, " he said, reaching for her card. It wasfull. Keith was chopfallen. 

"Take me to Mrs. Keith, " asked Mrs. Morrell, taking the card again, "Shelooks charming to-night; that simple style just suits her wide-eyedinnocence. "

She placed her fingers lightly on Keith's arm and moved away, nodding overher shoulder at the rather nonplussed young men who had come in with her. Thus rid of them, she turned again to Keith. 

"You didn't think I'd forget you!" she said, as though, reproachfully. "See, I kept you four dances. I put down those initials myself. Now don'tyou think I'm a pretty good sort?"

"Indeed I do! Which ones are they?" asked Keith, opening his own card. 

"The third, seventh, ninth, and eleventh. "

Keith hesitated for an appreciable instant. The seventh and eleventh he hadput down for Nan. But somehow in the face of this smiling, cynical-looking, vivid creature, he rather shrank from saying that he had them with hiswife. He swiftly reflected that, after all, he had four others with Nan, that she was so surrounded with admirers that she could not go partnerless, and that he would explain. 

"Delightful!" he cried, pencilling his program. 

Mrs. Morrell fluttered down alongside Mrs. Keith with much small talk. After a moment the music started for the grand march. Everybody took thefloor. 

"Where can Charley be!" cried Mrs. Morrell in apparent distress. "Don'twait here with me. I assure you I do not in the least mind sitting alone. "

But she said it in a fashion that made it impossible, and in this mannerNan lost her first engagement with her husband. Not that it matteredparticularly, she told herself, grand marches were rather silly things, andyet she could not avoid a feeling of thwarted pique at being so tied to thewall. 

At the close of the march, and after the couples had pretty well resumedtheir seats, Mrs. Sherwood entered, unattended and very leisurely. Shemade, in her quieter manner, a greater sensation than had Mrs. Morrell. Quite self-possessed, carrying herself with her customary poise, dressedunobtrusively in black and gold, but with the distinction of an indubitableParisian model, moving without self-consciousness in contrast to many ofthe other women, her small head high, her direct gaze a-smoulder with lazyamusement, she glided across the middle of the floor. The eyes of everywoman in the ballroom were upon her. The "respectable" element staredshamelessly, making comments aside. Those a little _déclassé_, on thefringe of society, or the "faster" women like Mrs. Morrell--who might in away be considered her rivals--were apparently quite unaware of her. Shemade her unhasting way to a vacant chair, sat down, and looked calmly abouther. 

Immediately she was surrounded by a swarm of the unattached men. Theattached men became very attentive to their partners. 

"Hullo, " remarked Keith cheerfully. "There's Mrs. Sherwood. I must go overand say good-evening to her. "

On sudden impulse Nan rose with him. She instinctively disliked her presentcompany and the situation; and a sudden pang of conscience had told herthat not once since she had left the Bella Union had she laid eyes on thewoman who had received her with so much kindness. 

"Take me with you, " she said to Keith. 

"My dear!" cried Mrs. Morrell. "You wouldn't! Take my advice--you're youngand innocent!"

She sought one of those exclusive, private-joke glances at Keith, butfailed to catch his eye. 

"She was very kind to me when I arrived, " said Nan serenely. Keith, hesitated; then his impulsive, warm-hearted loyalty spoke. 

"Good for you, Nan!" he cried. 

They moved away, leaving Mrs. Morrell alone, biting her lip and planningrevenges. 

The group around Mrs. Sherwood fell away at their approach. Nan sat downnext her, leaning forward with a pretty and girlish, impulsiveness. 

"It's ages since I have seen you, and I have no excuse to offer, " she said. "The days slip by. "

"I know, " said Mrs. Sherwood. "New house, new Chinaman, even new dog--enough to drive the most important thoughts out of one's head. But you'vecome out to-night like a flower, my dear. Your gown is charming, and itsuits you so well!"

She chatted on, speaking of the floor, the music, the decorations, thecrowd. 

"I love this sort of thing, " she remarked. "People in the mass amuse me. Jack couldn't get away until midnight, but I wouldn't wait for him. I toldhim it didn't worry me a bit to come without an escort, " smoothing awaywhat little embarrassment might linger. The music started up again. TheKeiths arose and made their adieux. Mrs, Sherwood looked after them, herbright eyes tender. Mrs. Keith was the only woman who had yet spoken toher. 

"Isn't she simply stunning?" cried Keith. "She has something about her thatmakes most of these others look cheap. "

"She's really wonderfully attractive and distinguished looking, " agreedNan. 

"If she were only a little less practical--a little softer; more feminine--she'd be a sure-enough man killer. As it is, she needs a little more--youknow what I mean--"

"More after Mrs. Morrell's fashion, " suggested Nan a trifle wickedly. Itpopped out on the impulse, and the next instant Nan would have givenanything if the words had not been said. Keith was arrested in mid-enthusiasm as though by cold water. He checked himself, looked at hersharply, then accepted the pseudo-challenge. 

"Well, Mrs. Morrell, for all her little vulgarities, impresses you as beinga very human sort of person. "

He felt a sudden and unreasoning anger, possibly because the shot had hit atender place. 

"Shall we dance?" he suggested formally. 

"I'm sorry, " replied Nan, "I have this with Mr. Sansome; there he comes. "

For the first time Keith felt a little irritated at the ubiquitous Sansome;but his sense of justice, while it could not smooth his ruffled feelings, nevertheless made itself heard. 

"What I need is a drink, " he told himself. 

At the buffet he found a crowd of the non-dancing men, or those who hadfailed to get the early numbers. Here were many of his acquaintances; amongthem, to his surprise, he recognized the grim features of Malcolm Neil. Allwere drinking champagne. Keith joined them. They chaffed him unmercifullyabout his purchases of clouded titles in water lots, and he answered themin kind, aware of Neil's sardonically humorous eye fixed on him. But at thefirst bars of the next dance he bolted in search of Mrs. Morrell, withwhom, he remembered, he had this number. 

Mrs. Morrell danced smoothly and lightly for a woman of her size, but wasinclined to snuggle up too close, to permit undistracted guidance to herpartner. It was almost impossible to avoid collisions with other couples, unless one possessed a Spartan mind and an iron will. In spite of himself, Keith became increasingly aware of her breast pressing against his chest;her smooth arm against his shoulder; the occasional passing contact of her, scarcely veiled from the sense of touch by the thin flame-coloured silk;the perfume she affected; the faint odour of her bright blond hair. In anattempt to break the spell he made some banal remark, but she shook herhead impatiently. She danced with her eyes half closed. When the musicstopped she drew a deep sighing breath. 

"You dance--oh, divinely!" she cried. "I might have known it. "

She moved away, and Keith followed her, a trifle intoxicated. 

"Let me see your card, " she demanded abruptly. "Why, you haven't done yourduty; this is hardly a third filled!"

"I hadn't started to fill it--and then you came in, " breathed Keith. 

They were opposite the door leading into one of the numerous small roomsoff the main floor of the armoury. 

"Let's sit here--and you can get me a punch, " she suggested. 

He brought the punch, and she drank it slowly, leaning back in an easychair. The place was dimly lighted, and her blond, full beauty was moreeffective than in the more brilliantly lighted ballroom. Mrs. Morrellexerted all her fascination. The next dance was half over before eitherKeith or--apparently--Mrs. Morrell became aware of the fact. 

"Oh, you must run!" she cried, apparently greatly exercised. "Don't mindme; go and find your partner. "

Keith replied, that he had this dance free, a fact of which her inspectionof his card had perfectly informed her. In answer to his returnsolicitation as to her own partner, she shrugged her shoulders. 

"Oh, he'll find me, " she said indifferently. "This is very cozy here. "

They resumed what had become an ardent flirtation. Toward the end of thedance Mrs. Morrell's partner came in, looking very flurried. Before hecould say a word, Mrs. Morrell began reproachfully to chide him with lackof diligence. 

"I've been waiting just _rooted_ to this spot!" she said truthfully. 

"Shall we dance?" suggested the unfortunate young man. 

"It's nearly over, " replied Mrs. Morrell carelessly. "Do sit down with us. Get yourself something to drink. _Don't go!_" she commanded Keith fiercelyunder her breath. 

At the beginning of the fourth dance, however, her next partner found herand led her away. She "made a face" over her shoulder at Keith. 

When a woman makes up her mind to monopolize a man who has not acquired thefine arts of rudeness and escape she generally succeeds. Keith's cordialnature was incapable of rudeness. Besides, being a perfectly normal man, and Mrs. Morrell experienced and attractive, he liked being monopolized. Itcrossed his mind once or twice that he might be in for a scolding when hegot home. Nan might be absurd. But he was so secure in his essentialloyalty to Nan that his present conduct was more in the nature of adelightfully naughty escapade than anything else. He stole the apples now, and later would go dutifully for his licking. Men of Keith's nature areeasily held and managed by a wise woman, but the woman must be very wise. Keith loved celebrations. On the wings of an occasion he rose joyfully andreadily to incredible altitudes of high-spirited but harmless recklessness. Birthdays, anniversaries, New Years, Christmas, arrivals, departures, heseized upon with rapture. Each had its appropriate ceremonial, itstraditional drink, the painstaking brewing of which was a sacred rite. Onsuch occasions he tossed aside the cloak of the everyday. A "celebration"meant that you were different. Humdrum life and habits must be relegated tothe background. It was permitted that, unabashed, you be as silly, asfrivolous, as inconsequential, as boisterous, as lighthearted, asdelightfully irresponsible as your ordinary concealed boyishness pleased. Customary repressions had nothing to do here. This was a celebration! Andin the aforementioned our very wise woman would have seen--a safety valve. 

Keith was off on a celebration to-night: an unpremeditated, freakish, impish, essentially harmless celebration, with a faint flavour of mischiefin it because he had Nan in the back of his head all the time. He played upto Mrs. Morrell with exuberance, with honestly no thought except that hewas having a whacking good time, and that old Nan was being teased. It wascharacteristic that for the time being he fell completely under Mrs. Morrell's fascination. They were together fully half the time, appearing onthe floor only occasionally, then disappearing in one or the other of themany nooks. Mrs. Morrell "bolted" her dances shamelessly. Keith thought herawfully amusing and ingenious in the way she managed this. Sometimes theyhid in out-of-the-way places. Sometimes she pretended to have mistaken thedance. "The sixth, are you very _sure_? I'm convinced it is only thefifth. " Keith's conscience troubled him a little concerning the few nameson his own card. 

"I have this with Mrs. Wilkins, " said he. "I really ought to go and lookher up. "

She took his card from him and deliberately tore it to small bits which sheblew from the palm of her gloved hand. He protested in real dismay, but shelooked him challengingly, recklessly, in the eye, until he laughed, too. 

All this was, of course, well noticed. Keith, again characteristically, hadnot taken into consideration the great public. Nan might have remainedcomparatively indifferent to Keith's philandering about for an evening withthe Morrell creature--she had by now a dim but growing understanding of"celebrations"--but that he should deliberately neglect and insult her inthe face of all San Francisco was too much. Her high, young enjoyment ofthe evening fell to ashes. She was furiously angry, but she was athoroughbred. Only a heightened colour and a sparkling eye might havebetrayed her to an astute woman. Observing her, Ben Sansome took heart. Itwas evident to him that the Keiths had long since reached an absoluteindifference in their relations, that they lived the conventional, tolerant, separate lives of the majority of married couples in BenSansome's smart acquaintance. He ventured to apply himself moreassiduously, and was by no means badly received. 

Keith remembered the next dance with his wife. He could not find her, although, a trifle conscience stricken, he searched everywhere. After themusic had finished, she emerged from the dressing-room; the next time shecould not be found at all. Evidently she was avoiding him with intention. 

Mrs. Sherwood, after each dance, returned invariably to the same chair nearthe middle of one wall. There, owing to the fact that the "respectables"withdrew from the chairs on either side, withdrew gradually and withoutopen rudeness, she held centre of a little court of her own. This made ofit a sort of post of observation from which she could review all that wasgoing on. She had no lack of partners, for she danced wonderfully, and inlooks was quite the most distinguished woman there. Keith's dance with hercame and went, but no Keith appeared to claim it. Mrs. Sherwood smiled alittle grimly, and her glance strayed down the wall opposite until itrested on Nan. She examined the girl speculatively. Nan was apparentlycompletely absorbed in Ben Sansome; but there was in her manner somethingfeverish, hectic, a mere nothing, which did not escape Mrs. Sherwood's keeneye. 

About midnight Sherwood appeared, and at once made his way to his wife'sside. He was punctiliously dressed in the mode: a "swallowtail, " bright, soft silk tie of ample proportions, frilled linen, and sparkling studs. Hebent with an old-world formality over his wife's hand. She swept away herskirts from the chair at her side, her eyes sparkling softly with pleasure. 

"You won't mind, " she said carelessly to the young men surrounding her, "Iwant to talk to Jack for a minute. "

They arose, laughing a little. 

"That is your one fault, Mrs. Sherwood, " said one, "you are altogether toofond of your husband. "

"Well, how are things going?" asked Sherwood, as they moved away. 

"I'm having a good time. But you're very late, Jack, "

"I know--I wanted to come earlier. Everything all right?"

At the question a little frown sketched itself on her clear brow. 

"In general, yes, " she said. "But they've got that Lewis boy out in the barfilling him up on champagne. "

"That's a pity. "

"It's a burning shame!" said she, "And I'd like to shake young Keith. He'sdangled after the Morrell woman from start to finish in a manner scandalousto behold. "

Sherwood laughed. 

"The 'Morrell woman' will do his education good, " he remarked. 

"Well, she isn't doing that poor little Mrs. Keith's education any good, "returned Mrs. Sherwood rather tartly. 

Sherwood surveyed Nan and Ben Sansome leisurely. 

"I must say she doesn't look crushed, " he said, after a moment. 

"Do you expect her to weep violently?" asked Mrs. Sherwood. 

He accepted good naturedly the customary feminine scorn for the customarymasculine obtuseness. 

"Well, I don't know that we can help it, " said he, philosophically. 

Mrs. Sherwood appeared to come to a sudden resolution. She arose. 

"You go get that Lewis boy away from the bar, " she commanded. 

Deliberately she shook and arranged her full skirts. The man with whom shehad this dance, and who had been waiting dutifully for the conference toclose, darted forward. She shook her head at him smilingly. 

"I'm going to let you off, " she told him. "You won't mind. I have somethingextra special to do. "

She swept quite alone across the middle of the ballroom, serene, self-possessed; and walked directly toward Keith and Mrs. 

Morrell, who were seated together at the other end. A perceptible pauseseemed to descend. The music kept on playing, couples kept on dancing, but, nevertheless, suddenly the air was charged with attention. Sherwood lookedafter her with mingled astonishment and fond pride. 

"A frontal attack, egad!" said he to himself. 

Keith and Mrs. Morrell pretended, as long as they decently could, not tosee her. She swam leisurely toward them. Finally Keith arose hastily; Mrs. Morrell stared straight ahead. 

"Young man, " accused Mrs. Sherwood, with a faint amusement in her rich, lowvoice, "do you know that this is our dance?"

Keith excused his apparent lapse volubly, telling several times over thathis program had been destroyed, that he was abject when he thought of thelight this put him in. 

"It is only when angels like yourself condescend to reach me a helping handthat I have even a chance to right myself, " he added. He thought thisrather a good touch. 

Mrs. Sherwood stood before him easily, in perfect repose of manner, thehalf smile still sketching her lips. She said just nothing at all inresponse to his glib excuses; but when he had quite finished she laid herhand in his arm. Mrs. Morrell, her colour high, continued to stare straightahead, immobile except for the tapping of one foot. To Keith's request tobe excused she vouchsafed a stiff half nod, partly in his direction. 

They danced. Mrs. Sherwood, like most people who have command enough oftheir muscles to be able to keep them in graceful repose, dancedmarvellously well. When she stopped after a single turn of the room, Keithexpostulated vigorously. 

"You are a perfect partner, " he told her. 

"Take me in here and get me a sherbet, " she commanded, without replying tohis protests. "That's good, " she said, when she had tasted it. "Now sitdown and listen to me. You are making a perfect spectacle of yourself. Don't you know it?"

Keith stiffened to an extreme formality. 

"I beg your pardon!" said he freezingly. 

"That may be your personal individual right"--went on Mrs. Sherwood's low, rich voice evenly. She was not even looking at him, but rather idly towardthe open door into the ballroom. Her fan swung from one finger; every lineof her body was relaxed. She might have been tossing him ordinarycommonplaces from the surface of a detached mind--"making a spectacle ofyourself, " she explained; "but you're making a perfect spectacle of yourwife as well--and in public. That is not your right at all. "

Keith sprang to his feet, furious. 

"You are meddling with what is really my own business, madam, " said he. 

For the first time she looked up at him, dearly and steadily. In the eyes. 

"Very well. That is true. Stop a moment and think. Are you attending toyour business yourself, even decently? Yes, I understand; you are angrywith me. If I were a man, you would challenge me to a duel and all thatsort of thing. " She smiled indifferently. "Let's take that for granted andget on. Sweep it aside. You are man enough to do it, or I mistake yougreatly. Look down into yourself for even one second. Are you playing fairall around? _Aren't you a little ashamed?_"

She held him with, her clear, level gaze. His own did not fall before it, and his head went back, but slowly his face and neck turned red. Thus theystared at each other for a full half minute, she smiling slightly, perfectly cool; he seething with a suppressed emotion of some sort. Thenshe turned indolently away. 

"You're too fine to do things like that, " she said, with a new softness inher voice; "we all have too much faith in you. The common tricks would notappeal to you, except in idleness; is it not so?"

She smiled up at him, a little sidewise. Keith caught his breath. For afleeting instant this extraordinary woman deigned to exert her femininecharms for the first time the coquette looked from her eyes; for the firsttime he saw mysteriously deep in her veiled nature a depth of possibility, of rich possibility--he could not grasp it--it was gone. But in spite ofhimself his pulses leaped like a flame. But now she was gazing again at theballroom door, cool, indolent, aloof, unapproachable. Yet just at thatinstant, somehow, the other woman looked shallow, superficial, cold. Hisglance fell on Mrs. Morrell still sitting where he had left her. Somethingwas wrong with her effect----

Analysis was submerged in a blaze of anger. This anger was not now againstthe woman before him; his instinct prevented that. Nor against Mrs. Morrellnor his wife; reluctant justice prevented that. Nor against himself--whereit really belonged. Things were out of joint; he felt cross-grained andugly. Mrs. Sherwood rose. 

"You may take me back now, " said she. 

As they glided across the floor together, her small sleek head came justabove his shoulder. No embarrassment disturbed her manner. Keith could notfind in him a spark of resentment against her. She moved by his side withan air of poise and detachment as a woman whose mind had long since weighedand settled the affairs of her own cosmos so that trifles could not disturbher. 

Leaving her in her accustomed chair, where Sherwood waited, Keith loyallyreturned to Mrs. Morrell, who still sat alone. Subconsciously he noticedsomething wrong with Mrs. Morrell. Her gowning was indeed rather aconspicuous effort than an artistic success. She had badly torn her dress--perhaps that was it. 

Mrs. Morrell received him with every appearance of sympathy. 

"You poor thing!" she cried. "What a fearful situation! Of course I knowyou couldn't help it. "

But Keith was grumpy and monosyllabic. He refused to discuss the situationor Mrs. Sherwood, returning with an obvious effort to commonplaces. Mrs. Morrell exerted all her fascination to get him back to the former level. Alittle cold imp sat in the back of Keith's brain and criticisedsardonically; Why will big women persist in being kittenish? Why doesn'tshe mend that awful rent, it's fairly sloppy! Suppose she thinks that kindof talk is funny! I _do_ wish she wouldn't laugh in that shrill, cacklingfashion! In short, the very tricks that an hour ago were jolly and amusingwere now tiresome. Having been distrait, ungallant, masculinely put out foranother fifteen minutes, he abruptly excused himself, sought out Nan, andwent home. 

From her point of observation, Mrs. Sherwood watched them go. Nan lookedvery tired, and every line of Keith's figure expressed a grumpy moroseness. 

"Congratulations, " said Sherwood. 

"He certainly is a child of nature, " returned his wife. "Look at him! He iscross, so he _looks_ cross. That this is a ballroom and that all SanFrancisco is present is a mere detail. "

"How did you break it up?" asked Sherwood curiously. 

"Men are so utterly ridiculous! He had built up a lot of illusions forhimself, but his instincts are true and good. It needed only a touch. Itwas absurdly simple. "

"He'll go back to the Morrell to-morrow, " asserted Sherwood confidently. 

She shook her head. 

"Not to her. He _sees_ her now. And not to-morrow. But eventually tosomebody, perhaps. He has curly hair. "

Sherwood laughed. 

"Shear him, like Sampson, " he suggested. "But it strikes me he has aboutthe most attractive woman--bar one--in town right at home. "

"She'd have no trouble in holding him if she were only _awake_. But she'sonly a dear little child--and about as helpless. She has very littlesubtlety. I'm afraid she'll follow the instincts of her training. She'll betoo proud to do anything herself to attract her husband, once hisattentions to her seem to drop off. She'll just become cold and proud--andperhaps eventually turn elsewhere. "

"I don't believe she's a bit that kind, " asserted Sherwood positively. 

"Nor do I. But, Jack, a woman lonely enough has fancies, that in the longrun may become convictions. "

XXII

Mrs. Sherwood was completely right. Keith had _seen_ Mrs. Morrell. Theglamour had fallen from her at a touch. He did not in the least understandhow this had happened, and considered that it was his own fault. Mrs. Morrell had not changed in the least, but he had, somehow. He looked uponhimself as fickle, disloyal, altogether despicable. Yet for the life of himhe could not get up the slightest spark of enthusiasm for musical evenings, Sunday night suppers, or week-end excursions into the country. They hadfallen dead to his taste; and with the sudden revolt to which suchtemperaments as his are subject, he could not bear even the thought of themwithout a feeling of incipient boredom. The blow administered to his self-respect put him quite out of conceit with himself and the world in general. If he had followed his natural instinct, he would instanter have thrown, overboard all the Morrell episode, bag and baggage. 

But that was, of course, impossible. Keith felt his obligations; he was aman of honour; he had respect for the feelings of others; he could not makefriendly people the victims of his own outrageous freaks. That was out ofthe question!

Mrs. Morrell sent for him. She had been puzzled by the episode of theevening before. It would have been absolutely incredible to her that ahundred words from a woman who was not her rival could have destroyed herinfluence over this man. She had considerable knowledge of men, and she hadplayed her cards carefully. But she realized that something was the matter;and she thought that the time had come to use the power she had gained. Anote dispatched by the Chinaman would do. 

Keith obeyed the summons. He knew himself well enough to realize that theintimacy, such as it was, must come to a pretty abrupt termination. Otherwise, he would shortly get very bored; and when he got very bored hebecame, in spite of himself, reserved and self-contained to the point ofrudeness. For the exact reason that he saw thus clearly, his conscience wassmiting him hard. Mrs. Morrell had done nothing to deserve this treatment. He was a dastard, a coward, ashamed of himself. If she wanted to see him, it was her due that he obey her summons promptly. He went with the vagueidea of making amends by doing whatever she seemed to require--for thisonce. 

She entered the dim sitting-room clad in a flowing silken negligée, whichshe excused on the ground of laziness. 

"I'm still a little tired from last night, " she said, with a laugh. 

The soft material and informal cut clung to and defined the lines of herfigure, showing to especial advantage the long sweep of her hips, thepliancy of her waist, the swell of her fine bust. A soft lilac colour setoff the glint of her fair hair. She was, in fact, feeling a little languidfrom the reaction of the ball and in a sudden rush of emotion she admiredKeith's crisp freshness. Her eyes swam a little and her breast heaved. 

But the preliminary conversation went by jerks. Keith answered her advanceswith an effort toward ease and cordiality, but with a guarded, unnaturalmanner that sent a sudden premonitory chill to the woman's heart. Herinstinct warned her. As the minutes passed, her uneasiness grew to thepoint of fear. Was she losing him? Why? This was no time for ordinarymethods. 

She arose and went to sit by his side. 

"What's the matter, dear?" she asked. 

"Nothing. "

"Why are you acting in this manner? What have I done?"

"I'm not; you haven't done anything--of course. "

She suddenly leaned forward, looking into his eyes, projecting all theforce of her magnetism. She had before seen him respond, felt him quiver toher tentative, mischievous advances, "Kiss me, " she breathed. 

Poor Keith was having a miserable enough time. He clung to his firstthought--that this evening was her due, that he was in some way bound, inending everything, to pay whatever coin he had left. He obeyed her, touching her lips lightly and coldly with his own. Never was chaster caressbestowed on melting mood!

She flung him violently aside, her face writhing and contorted with fury. She was enlightened, completely, as she could have been enlightened in noother manner. 

"You can go!" she cried hoarsely. "Get out! Don't dare enter this houseagain!"

He made some sort of spiritless, feeble protest, trying his best to putsome convincing quality into it. But she did not even listen. Theungoverned tiger-cat part of her nature was in the ascendant, the fiercepride of the woman living near the edge of the half-world. She would gladlyhave killed him. At length he went, very confused, bewildered, miserable--and relieved! He left behind him a bitter enemy. 

XXIII

In complete revulsion, Keith scuttled the frivolous world of women. As heexpressed it, he was sick of women. They made him tired. Too much fusstrying to keep even with their vagaries. A man liked something he couldbite on. He plunged with all the enthusiasm and energy of his vividpersonality into his business deal of the water lots and into thefascinating downtown life of the pioneer city. The mere fact that he hadended that asinine Morrell affair somehow made him think he had made it allup to Nan, and he settled back tacitly and without further preliminariesinto what his mood considered a most satisfactory domestic basis. That is, he took his home and his home life for granted. It was there when he neededit. He admired Nan greatly, and supplied her with plenty of money, and tookher to places when he could get the time. Some day, when things were notquite so lively, they would go somewhere together. In the meantime he neverfailed to ask her every evening if she had enjoyed herself that day; andshe never failed to reply that she had. Everything was most comfortable. 

After the Firemen's Ball Nan, somehow relieved of any definite uneasiness, felt that she should be made much of, should be a little wooed, that Keithshould make up a little for having been somewhat of a naughty boy. When, instead, she was left more alone than before, she was hurt and depressed. Of course, Milton did not realize--but what was there for her? Wing Sam ranthe house; she worked a good deal in the garden, assisted by Gringo. Probably at no time in modern history have wives been left so much aloneand so free as during this period. The man's world was so absorbing; thewoman's so empty. 

Ben Sansome dropped in quite often. He was always amusing, alwaysagreeable, interested in all sorts of things, ready to give his undividedattention to any sort of a problem, no matter how trivial, to consider itattentively, and to find for it a fair and square deliberate solution. Thisis exceedingly comforting to the feminine mind. He taught Gringo not to"jump up"; he found out what was the matter with the _Gold of Ophir_cutting; he discovered and took her to see just the shade of hangings shehad long sought for the blue room. Within a very short time he hadestablished himself on the footing of the casual old-time caller, happeningby, dropping in, commenting and advising detachedly, drifting on againbefore his little visit had assumed rememberable proportions. He had alwaysthe air of just leaning over the fence for a moment's chat; yet hecontrived to spend the most of an afternoon. He spoke of Keith often, always in affectionate terms, as of a sort of pal, much as though he andNan _both_ owned him, he, of course, in a lesser degree. 

One afternoon, after he had actually been digging away at a bulb bed forhalf an hour, Nan suggested that he come in for refreshment. Gradually thisbecame a habit. Sansome and Nan sat cozily either side the little Chinesetea table. He visibly luxuriated. 

"You don't know what a privilege this is for me--for any lonesome bachelorin this crude city--to have a home like this to come to occasionally. "

He hinted at his situation, but made of its details a dark mystery. Thefinal impression was one of surface lightness and gayety, but of innersadness. 

"It is a terrible city for a man without an anchor!" he said. "Keith is alucky fellow! If I only had some one, as he has, I might amount tosomething. " A gesture implied what a discouraged butterfly sort of personhe really was. 

"You ought to marry, " said Nan gently. 

"Marry!" he cried. "Dear lady, whom? Where in this awful mixture they callsociety could one find a woman to marry?"

"There are plenty of nice women here, " chided Nan. 

"Yes--and all of them taken by luckier fellows! You wouldn't have me marrySally Warner, would you--or any of the other half-dozen Sally Warners? Imight as well marry a gas chandelier, a grand piano, and a code ofimmorals--but the standard of such women is so different from the standardof women like yourself. "

Nan might pertinently have inquired what Ben Sansome did in this gallery, anyhow; but so cold-blooded and direct an attack would have required a cooldetachment incompatible with his dark, good looks, his winning, appealingmanners, his thoughtfulness in little things, his almost helpless relianceon her sympathy; in other words, it presupposed a rather cynical, elderlyperson. And Nan was young, romantic, easily stirred. 

"All you need is to believe in yourself a little more, " she said earnestlyand prettily. "Why don't you undertake something instead of drifting? Someof the people you go with are not especially good for you--do you thinkso?"

"Good for me?" he laughed bitterly. "Who cares if I go to the dogs? They'drather like me to; it would keep them company! And I don't know that I caremuch myself!" he muttered in a lower tone. 

She leaned forward, distressed, her eyes shining with expostulation. 

"You mustn't hold yourself so low, " she told him vehemently. "You mustn't!There are a great many people who believe in you. For their sake you shouldtry. If you would only be just a little bit serious--in regard to yourself, I mean. A gay life is all very well----"

"Gay?" he interrupted, then caught himself. "Yes, I suppose I do seem gay--God knows I try not to cry out--but, really, sometimes I'm near to endingit all----"

She was excited to a panic of negation. 

"Oh, no! no!" she expostulated vehemently. ("Egad, she's stunning whenshe's aroused!" thought Sansome. ) "You mustn't talk like that! It isn'tfair to yourself; it isn't fair to your manhood! Oh, how you do need someone to pull you up! If I could only help!"

He raised his head and looked directly at her, his dark, melancholy eyeslighting slowly. 

"You have helped; you are helping, " he murmured. "I suppose I have beenweak and a coward, I will try. "

"That's right. I am so glad, " she said, glowing with sweetness and a desireto aid. "Now you must turn over a new leaf, " she hesitated. "Every way, Imean, " she added with a little blush. 

"I know I drink more than I ought, " he supplied in accents of regret. 

"Don't you suppose you could do without?" she begged very gently. 

"Will you help me?" He turned on her quickly; then, his delicate instinctsperceiving a faint, instinctive recoil at his advance, he added: "Just letme come here occasionally, into this quiet atmosphere, when it gets toohard and I can see no light; just to get your help, the strength I shallneed to tide me over. "

He looked very handsome and romantic and young. He was apparently very, deeply in earnest. Nan experienced a rash of pity, of protective maternalemotion. 

"Yes, do come, " she assented softly. 

XXIV

All this time Keith was busy every minute of the day. The water-lot matterwas absorbing all his attention. Through skilful and secret agents Neil hadacquired a great deal of scrip issued by the city for various public worksand services which the holders had not yet exchanged for the new bonds. These he turned over to Keith. Very quietly, by prearrangement, the lattersued and obtained judgments. When all this had been fully accomplished--andnot before then--the veil of secrecy was rent. Rowlee's paper advertised aforthcoming sale of water lots to satisfy the judgments. 

Then followed, for Keith, an anxious period of three days. But at the endof that time the commissioners issued a signed warning that the titlesconveyed by this sale would not be considered legal. On seeing this, Keithat once rushed around to Neil's office. 

"Here it is, " he announced jubilantly. "They held off so long that I beganto be afraid they did not intend to play our game for us. But it's allright. "

The matter was widely discussed; but next morning placards, bearing thetext of the commissioners' warning, were posted on every blank wall in townand distributed as dodgers. These were attributed by the public to zeal onthe part of those officials; but the commissioners knew nothing about it. 

"Some anonymous friend of the city must have done it, " Hooper told hisfriends, and added, "We are delighted!"

The unknown friend was Malcolm Neil himself. 

This warning had its effect. As Keith had predicted, nobody cared to putgood money into what was officially and authoritatively announced as a badtitle. At the sheriff's sale there were no bona fide bidders except thesecret agents of Malcolm Neil. The sheriff's titles--such as they were--went for a song. Immediately the ostensible purchasers were personallywarned by the commission; but they seemed satisfied. 

So matters rested until, a little later, the commissioners inserted in allthe papers the customary legal advertisements setting forth a sale by them, under the State law, of these same water lots to satisfy the interest andfill the sinking fund for the bonds. The next morning appeared a statementsigned by all the ostensible purchasers under the sheriff's sale. Thisstated dearly and succinctly the intention to contest any titles given bythe commissioners, even to the highest courts. This was marked _advt_, toindicate the newspaper's neutrality in the matter. Rowlee commented on thesituation editorially, He took the righteous and indignant attitude, expressing extreme journalistic horror that such a hold-up should bepossible in a modern, civilized community, hurling editorial contempt onthe dastardly robbers who were thus intending to shake down the innocentpurchasers, etc. In fact, he laid it on thick, But he managed to insinuatea doubt. Between the lines the least astute reader could read Rowlee'sbelief that perhaps these first purchasers might have a case, iniquitousbut legal. He hammered away at this for a week. By the end of that time hehad, by the most effective, indirect methods--purporting all the time to beattacking the signers of the warning--succeeded in instilling into thepublic mind a substantial distrust of the stability of the titles to beconveyed at the commissioners' sale. Malcolm Neil complimented him highlyat their final and secret interview. 

Again Keith's predictions were fulfilled to the letter. Nobody wanted tobuy a lawsuit. There were a few bidders, it is true, but they were fainthearted. Another set of Malcolm's secret agents bid all the lots in at anominal figure. That very afternoon they all met in Neil's stuffy littleback office. Keith had the deeds prepared. All that was necessary was toaffix the signatures. The purchasers under both sales conveyed their rightsto Neil and Keith. The latter now possessed uncontested and incontestabletitle. 

XXV

Having personally delivered the deeds to the recorder's office, Keith wenthome. In the relief from pressure, the triumph, and the exaltation, hisinstinct carried him to the actual background of his life--his genuine butpreoccupied affection for Nan. The constraint, that had been so real toher, had never been anything but nebulous to him. 

He burst into the house, capered around the room boyishly, seized her, andwaltzed her gayly about. Quite taken by surprise, Nan's first thought wasthat he had been drinking too much; so naturally she failed to riseinstantly to the occasion. 

"Stop it, Milton!" she cried. "What has got into you! You're tearing me toribbons!"

He laughed heartily. 

"You must think I'm crazy, " he acknowledged. "Sit down here, and learn whata great man your husband is. " He poured out the story of the transaction, omitting no details of the clever schemes by which it had been worked. Hewas, above all, proud of his legal address and acumen--there was somethingin Eastern training, after all; this lay right under their noses, but noneof them saw it until he came along and picked it up. "And there are somepretty smart men out here, too, let me tell you that, " he added. "They'refrom all parts of the world, and they've had a hard practical education, their eye teeth are cut!" His egotism over being keener than theacknowledged big men was very fresh and charming. The money gained hementioned as an afterthought, only when the other aspect of the situationhad been exhausted. "The cold hard dollars are pretty welcome just now, " hetold her. "There's about a quarter million in those lots--and we canrealize on all or part of them at any time. All came out of here!" Hetapped his forehead, and paused in his rapid pacing to and fro to look downat her In the easy chair, "We are well off now. We needn't scrimp andsave"--it did not for the moment occur to him that they had not been doingso--"I'm going to get you eight new gowns, and twelve new hats, and abushel of diamonds----"

"I'm glad, very glad!" she cried, catching his enthusiasm, her mind for thefirst time occupying itself seriously with the mechanism of the deal. Atfirst, when he had been explaining, she had not thrown off the impressionthat he had been drinking, and so had paid little attention to hisexplanations. "It sounds like magic. Tell me again--how you did it, "

Nothing loath, he went over it again, making clear the double clouding ofthe titles. 

But Nan, being much alone, had the habit, shared with few women of thattime, of reading the newspapers. She had followed Rowlee's campaign, andshe had taken seriously the editor's diatribes, Rowlee had been talking foreffect. The ideals of ultimate civic honesty were yet fifty years in thefuture, but he had stumbled on their principle. Nan's mind, untrained inany business ethics, caught them; and her sure natural instincts hadaccepted their essential justice. In recognizing Milton's connection aspromoter with just this deal, she was suddenly called upon to makeadjustments for which there was no time. She knew Milton would do nothingwrong, and yet--he was waiting in triumph for her response. 

"It was very clever. And yet, somehow, it doesn't sound right--" shepuzzled, "Are you sure it's honest?"

"Honest?" he snorted, halted in mid-career, "Of course it's honest! Whyisn't it honest?"

Confronted with the direct question, she really did not know. She groped, proffering tentatively some of the arguments half remembered from Rowlee'seditorial columns. But she confronted now a lawyer, sure of himself. Keithexplosively, and contemptuously demolished her contentions. Everything wasabsolutely legal, every step of it. If a man hadn't a right to buy inproperty at any sale and sell it again where he wanted, where in thunderwas our boasted liberty? Just the kind of fool notion women get! Keith inhis honest pride and triumph had come for sympathy and admiration. Turnedback on himself, he became vaguely resentful, and shortly left the house. 

Hardly had the front door closed after him when Nan burst into tears. Shehad not meant it to come out that way at all. Of course she had had no realthought that Milton would do anything dishonest; how absurd of him to takeit that way! She had simply expressed a queer instinctive thought that hadflashed across her mind; and now she could not for the life of her guesshow she had come to do so. Miserably and passionately she realized that shehad bungled it. 

XXVI

But if Keith missed the appreciation of his triumph at home, he receivedfull meed of it downtown. In a corner of the Empire a dozen of the biggestmen in town were gathered. They were Sam Brannan; Palmer, of Palmer, Cook &Co. ; Colonel E. D. Baker, the original "silver-tongued orator"; DickBlatchford, the contractor; Judge Terry, of the Supreme Court; oily, coarseNed McGowan; Nugent and Rowlee, editors, and some others. They were doingan exceedingly important part of their daily business: sipping their lateafternoon cocktails. Calhoun Bennett joined them. 

"Little item of news to interest you-all, " drawled the Southerner. "I'vejust come down from the recorder's office. The deeds for the water lotshave just been recorded. " He paused. 

"Have a drink, Cal, " urged Dick Blatchford, "and sit down. What of it?"

"They were recorded in the names of Malcolm Neil and young Keith. I'll havea cocktail. "

"That so? Pretty shaky title. Which sale did they record under?"

"Both!" said Bennett. 

He stood until he saw that the significance of this had soaked in; then hedrew out a chair and sat down. Ned McGowan chuckled hoarsely. 

"Pretty slick!" said he. "Wonder some of us didn't think of that! I supposethey went around and scared the purchasers until they got them, prettycheap. Trust old Neil to drive a bargain!"

But Palmer, the banker, who had been thinking, here spoke up:

"The purchasers were undoubtedly their agents, " he surmised quietly. 

"By God, you're right!" cried Terry. "Old Malcolm is certainly the devilwithout a tail!"

"Speak of him and you get him, " remarked Colonel Baker, pointing out Neil, who had just entered. 

They raised a shout at him, until finally the old man, reluctantly andcrabbedly, sidled over to join them. 

"You're discovered, old fox!" cried Terry; "and the outraged dignity of thelaw demands a drink. "

They plied him with half-facetious, half-envious congratulations. But Neilwould have none of them. 

"Not my scheme, " he growled. "Entirely Keith's. I'm a sleeping partneronly. He engineered it all, thought of it all, dragged me in. "

"You must have made a good thing out of it, Mr. Neil, " suggested Palmerrespectfully. 

The formidable old man eyed the speaker grumpily for a moment. 

"About a quarter million, cool, between us, " he vouchsafed finally. He was, for some reason, willing to brag a bit. 

This statement was received in admiring silence by all but Terry. Everybodybut that devil-may-care and lawless pillar of the law was afraid of Neil. But Terry would joke with anybody. 

"I hope you're going to let him have a little of it, Neil, " he laughed. 

The old man shifted his eyes from Palmer to Terry with much the air ofrestraining heavy guns. Terry met the impact untroubled. 

"Judge, " grunted the financier at last, "that young man will get his dueshare. He has tied me up in a contract that even your honoured court wouldfind difficulty in breaking. "

With this parting shot he arose and stumped out. 

"If Malcolm Neil acknowledges he is tied up, " observed Terry, who had notbeen in the slightest degree disturbed, "he is certainly tied up!"

"Consider the man who tied him, " begged Colonel Baker. "He must, in thelanguage of the poets, be a lallapaloozer. "

"He's worth getting hold of, " said Dick Blatchford. 

Therefore, when, a little later, Keith appeared, he was hailed jovially, and invited to drink. Everybody was very cordial. Within five minutes hewas hail fellow with them all, joking with the most august of them on termsof equality. Judge Terry, in whose court he had stood abashed, plied himwith cocktails; Colonel Baker told several stories, one of which was new;Sam Brannan, with the mixture of coarseness, overbearing manners, andfascination that made him personally attractive to men and some women, called him "my boy"; and the rest of the party had whole-heartedly takenhim in and were treating him as one of themselves. Keith had known allthese men, of course, but they had been several cuts above him inimportance, and his relations with most of them had been formal. His wholebeing glowed and expanded. After the first cocktail or two, and after alittle of this grateful petting, he had some difficulty in keeping himselffrom getting too expansive, in holding himself down to becoming modesty, innot talking too much. He quite realized the meaning of this suddencordiality; but he welcomed it as another endorsement, from the highest, most unimpeachable sources, of his cleverness and legal acumen. 

They drank and talked until twilight. Then Keith began to make his excuses. They shouted him down. 

"You're going to dinner with us, my son, " stated Brannan. "They've openedan oyster palace down the street, and we're going to sample it. "

"But my wife--" began Keith. 

"Permit me, " interrupted Terry, bending his tall form in courtesy. "I amabout to dispatch a messenger to Mrs. Terry, and shall be pleased toinstruct him to call at your mansion also. "

It was so arranged. Immediately they adjourned to the new "Oyster Palace, "a very gaudy white and gilt monstrosity with mirrors and negro minstrels. There were small private rooms, it seemed, and one of these was bespokenfrom the smiling manager, flattered at the patronage of these substantialmen. 

San Francisco lived high in those days. It could pay, and for pay the bestwill go anywhere. The dinner was quite perfect. There were more cocktailsand champagne. Under the influence of good fellowship and drinks, Keith wasfinally prevailed upon to give the details of the whole transaction. Perhaps this was a little indiscreet, but he was carried away by theoccasion. The noisy crowd suddenly became quiet, and listened with thedeepest attention. When Keith had finished, there ensued a short silence. Then Judge Terry delivered his opinion. 

"Sound as a dollar, " he pronounced at last. "Not a hole in it. Is that youropinion, Colonel Baker?"

"Clever piece of work, " nodded the orator gravely. After this interim ofsobriety the dinner proceeded more and more noisily. The drink affected thedifferent men in different ways. A flush appeared high on the cheek bonesof Terry's lean face and an added dignity in his courtly manner. Brannanbecame louder and more positive. On Blatchford his potations had noappreciable effect except that his round face grew redder. Ned McGowandropped even his veneer of good breeding, became foul mouthed and profane, full of unpublishable reminiscence to which nobody paid any particularattention. Calhoun Bennett's speech became softer, more deliberate, moreconsciously Southern. Keith, who was really most unaccustomed to the heavydrinking then in vogue, was filled with a warm and friendly feeling towardeverybody. His thoughts were a bit vague, and he had difficulty infocussing his mind sharply. The lights were very bright, and the room warm. 

Suddenly they were all in the open air under the stars. There seemed tohave been an unexplained interim. Everybody was smoking cigars. Keith wastugging at his pocket and expostulating something about payment--somethingto do with the dinner. Evidently some part of him had gone on talking andthinking. The fresh air brought him back to the command. Varioussuggestions were being proffered. Blatchford was for hiring rigs anddriving out to the Mission; Calhoun Bennett suggested the El Dorado; butSam Brannan's bull voice decided them. 

"I'm going to Belle's!" he roared, and at once started off up the street. The idea was received with acclamation. They straggled up the street towardthe residential portion of town. 

Keith followed. The delayed action of the drink had thrown him into adelicious whirling haze. He felt that he could be completely master ofhimself at any moment merely by making the effort; only it did not atpresent seem worth while. He knew where Belle's was: it was the ornatehouse diagonally across the street from his own, the one concerning whichthe clerk had been so evasive when they were house hunting. 

Belle's was a three-story frame building, differing in no outward essentialfrom the fashionable residences around it. On warm evenings there sometimescame through the opened windows the sound of a piano, the clink of glasses, loud laughter or singing. The chance bystander might have heard identicallythe same from any other house in the neighbourhood. Only Belle'soccasionally--rarely occasionally--contributed a crash or an oath. Suchthings were, however, quickly hushed. Belle's was run on respectable lines. Men went in and out quite openly, with the tolerance of most, but to thescandal of a few. Those curious, consulting the yellowed files of thenewspapers, can read little protests--signed with _nom de plumes_--fromyoung women, complaining that young men of their acquaintance, aftercalling decorously on them, would cross quite openly to the house over theway. Yet they were powerless, for a year or so at least, to break up thecustom. 

For Belle's was a carry-over from the 49-51 days when of social life therewas none at all. It differed from the merely disreputable house. Belleprided herself on quiet conduct and many friends. In person she was amiddle-aged, still attractive Frenchwoman. She had furnished her parloursvery elaborately, and she insisted that both her employees and clientsshould behave in the public rooms with the greatest circumspection. 

Indeed, a casual visitor, unacquainted with the character of the place, might well have been deceived. The women sitting about were made up andvery décolleté, to be sure, but their conduct, while not always of thehighest tone, was nevertheless quite devoid of freedom. Belle permitted noovert word or action; nor was any visitor subjected to another expectationthan the occasional opening of a bottle of wine "for the good of thehouse. "

But outside of the one fundamental rule of decency, the caller could makehimself comfortable in his own way. He could lounge, pound the piano, joke, play games, smoke where he pleased, and enjoy what was then a rarity--thecompany and conversation of nimble-witted, well-dressed, beautiful womenwhose ideas were not narrow. Ultimate possibilities were always kept verymuch in the background, but that there were possibilities made for presentrelaxation or freedom. 

Twice a year Belle was in the habit of giving a grand party. Theinvitations were engraved. Entertainment was on a sumptuous scale. Therewere dancing, all sorts of card games, an elaborate supper, the best ofmusic, often professional entertainers of great merit. Everything was freeexcept wine. Nearly the whole masculine population turned out for Belle'sbig party--judges, legislators, bankers, merchants, as well as theprofessional politicians and the gamblers. The most prominent men of thecity frequented Belle's at other times openly, without fear of publicopinion--many of them merely for the sense of freedom and relaxation theythere enjoyed. Everybody was welcome. 

Keith, however, knowing the character of the place, had never been insideits doors. Now, enveloped in his rosy haze, exceedingly contented with hiscompany, he followed where they led. At the door a neat coloured maidrelieved him of his hat and coat, and smiled a welcome. His dazzled visiontook in a long drawing-room, soft red carpets, red brocade curtains ofheavy material, with edges of gold fringe and with gold cords, chandeliersof many dangling prisms, a white marble mantel, a grand piano, a fewpictures of the nude, and many chairs. Ravishingly beautiful, wonderfullydressed women sat about in indolent attitudes. 

The hilarious party at once scattered through the room, Calhoun Bennettwent to the piano and began to play sentimental airs. Ned McGowan, his facevery red, enthroned himself in an easy chair, clasping girls who perched oneither arm. He talked to them in a low voice. They leaned over to hear, andevery moment or so they burst into shrieks of laughter. Judge Terry waslistening intently to some serious communication Belle herself was makingto him. Sam Brannan was roaring for champagne. The others were circulatinghere and there, talking, playing practical jokes. Altogether, to Keith'srosy vision, a colourful and delightful scene. Nobody paid him the leastattention. 

How long he stood there he did not know. The groups before him shifted andchanged confusedly. The lights seemed to blaze and to dim, and then toblaze again. After a long interval he became aware of a touch on his arm. He looked down. A piquant, dark-eyed, tilt-nosed girl was smiling up athim. 

"Wat you do?" she was begging. "You come wiz me?"

He focussed his attention on the room. It was almost empty. He saw the backof Judge Terry disappearing into the street. He passed his hand across hiseyes. 

"Where are the others?" he asked confusedly. 

She laughed with significance. He looked down at her again. Her complexionwas a sort of dead white, her lips were red and glistening, her eyes weredarkened. He turned suddenly and left the house. The coloured maid, disappointed in a tip, stood in the doorway, his hat and coat in her hands, staring after him. The cool air a little cleared his brain. He stoppedshort in the middle of the street, trying to collect himself. 

"I'm drunk, " he solved finally, and proceeded very carefully toward his ownhouse. After each dozen steps he paused to collect his thoughts beforeproceeding. In one of these pauses he distinctly heard a window slam shut;there were plenty of louder things, he heard only the window. He hadn't theleast idea of the time of night, except that it must be very late. As amatter of fact, it was not more than half-past ten. Near his own gate henearly ran into a woman strolling. With some instinct of apology, he turnedin her direction. As his bare head was revealed in the dim light, the womanuttered a low laugh. 

"And was Belle as charming as ever?" demanded Mrs. Morrell sweetly buticily. "Go in carefully now, so dear little wifey won't know. "

She laughed again and moved past him. He stared after her with a vaguesense of injustice, somehow; then went on. 

XXVII

Keith was sorry next morning, but he was not repentant, in the sense offeeling that he had done anything fatally wrong. He was disgusted withhimself. He wasted no regrets, but did register a very definite intentionnot to let _that_ happen again! It was all harmless enough, once in a way, but it was not his sort of thing. Nan would not understand it a bit--whyshould she? His head ached, and he was feeling a little conscience-strickenabout Nan, anyway. He must take her around more, see more of her. Businesshad been very absorbing lately, but now that this deal had been brought offsuccessfully, it was only due her and himself that he take a little timeoff. In his present mood he convinced himself, as do most American businessor professional men, that he was being driven in his work, and that hewanted nothing better than a let-up from the grind. As a matter of fact, he--and they--love their work. 

In this frame of mind he started downtown, rather late. On the street hemet a number of his friends. A good many of them chaffed him good-naturedlyabout the night before. By the time he reached his office he was feelingmuch better. Things were assuming more of an everyday comfortable aspect. He had not been seated ten minutes before Dick Blatchford drifted in, smoking a black cigar that gave Keith a slight qualmish feeling. Dickseemed quite unaffected by the evening before. 

"Hullo, Milt!" he boomed, rolling his heavy form into a chair, his round, red face beaming. "How's the wild Injin this morning? Say, you're a wonderwhen you get started! You needn't deny it; wasn't I there?" He shook hishead, chuckling fatly. "Look here, " he went on, "I'm busy this morning--gotto get down to North Beach to see Harry Meigs--and I guess you are. " Hetossed over a package of papers that he produced from an inside pocket. "Look those over at your leisure. I think we better sue the sons of guns. Let me know what you think. " He fished about in a tight-drawn waistcoatpocket with a chubby thumb and forefinger, pulled out a strip of paper, andflipped it to Keith as casually as though it were a cigarette paper. "There's a little something as a retainer, " said he. "Well, be good!"

After he had lumbered out, Keith examined the check. It was for onethousand dollars. If anything were needed to restore his entire confidencein himself, this retainer would have sufficed. The little spree wasregrettable, of course, but it had brought him a client--and a good one!

Two days later Keith, who now had reason to spend more time in his office, received another and less welcome visitor: this was Morrell. The youngEnglishman, his clean-cut face composed to wooden immobility, his too-close-set eyes squinting watchfully, came in as though on a social call. 

"Just dropped around to look at your diggin's, " he told the surprisedKeith. "Not badly fixed here; good light and all. ". 

He accepted a cigar, and sat for some moments, his hat and stick carefullydisposed on his knees. 

"Look here, Keith, " he broke into a desultory chat after a few minutes. "Deucedly awkward, and all that, of course; but I've been wondering whetheryou would, be willing to tide me over--remittances late, and all that sortof thing. Stony for the moment. Everything lovely when the mails arrive. Neighbours, see a lot of each other, and that sort, you know. "

Keith was totally unprepared for this, and floundered. Morrell, watchinghim calmly, went on:

"Of course I wouldn't think of coming to you, old chap--plenty of peopleglad to bank for me temporarily--but I wanted you to know just how westand--Mrs. Morrell and I--that we feel friendly to you, and all that sortof thing, you know! You can rely on us--no uneasiness, you know. "

"Why, that's very kind of you, " returned Keith, puzzled. 

"Not a bit! The way I looked at it was that a chap wouldn't borrow from aman he wasn't friendly with, it isn't done. " He laughed his high, cacklinglaugh, "So I said to Mimi, 'the dear man must be worryin' his head off. ' Itwas lucky for you, old top, that a woman of the world with some sense sawyou the other night instead of some feather-headed gossipin' fool. ButMimi's not that. "

Keith was slowly beginning to suspect, but as yet he considered hissuspicion unjust. 

"How much do you need?" he asked, "Five hundred dollars, " replied Morrell coolly. 

"I doubt I have that sum free in ready cash. "

Morrell looked him in the eye. 

"I fancy you will be able to raise it, " he said very deliberately. 

The men looked at each other. 

"This is blackmail, then, " said Keith without excitement. 

Morrell became very stiff and English in manner. 

"Words do not frighten me, sir. This is a personal loan. It is an actionbetween friends, just as my silence on the subject of your peccadillo is afriendly action. I mention that silence, not as a threat, but as anevidence of my own friendly feeling. I see I have made a mistake. "

He arose, his bearing very frigid. Keith was naturally not in the leastdeceived by this assumption of injured innocence, but he had been thinking. 

"Hold on!" he said. "You must forgive my being startled; and you must admityou were a little unfortunate in your presentation. For this loan, whatsecurity?"

"My personal note, " replied Morrell calmly. 

"I must look into my resources. I will let you know to-morrow. "

"Not later than to-morrow. I'll call at this hour, " said Morrell withmeaning. 

After the Englishman had gone Keith considered the matter at leisure. Although of a sanguine and excitable temperament When only little thingswere involved, he was clear headed and uninfluenced by personal feeling inreal emergencies. 

First, would the Morrells carry out the implied threat? His instinctsupplied that answer. Of Morrell himself he had never had any trust. Now heremembered what had never really struck him before: that Morrell, even inthis fast and loose society, had never been more than tolerated, and that, apparently, only because of the liveliness of his wife. He had theindefinable air of a bad 'un. And Keith's knowledge of women was broadenough to tell him that Mrs. Morrell would be relentless. 

Second, would a denial avail against their story? His commonsense told himthat if the Morrells started this thing they would carry it through to afinish. There was no sense in it otherwise, for such an attack would meanthe burning of most of their social bridges. Morrell could get witnessesfrom Belle's--say, the coloured maid whom he had not tipped--and there werehis hat and coat. 

Third, could he afford to let them tell the tale? As far as his position inthe city, either professionally or socially, most decidedly yes. But athome, as decidedly no. In her calmest, most judicial, trusting, lovingmood, Nan could never understand. Her breeding and upbringing were againstit. She could never comprehend the difference between such a place asBelle's and any disreputable house--if there was a difference. This pointneeded little argument. 

Then he must pay. 

Having definitely decided this, he repressed his natural inclinationstoward anger, drew the money, laid it aside in his drawer, and went on withhis work. When Morrell came, in next morning, very easy and debonair, hehanded out the gold pieces and took in return the man's note, withoutrelaxing the extreme gravity and formality of his manner. 

"Thanks, old chap!" cried Morrell. "You've saved my life. I won't forget. "He paused; then cackled harshly: "Good joke that! No, _I won't_ forget!"

Keith bowed coldly, waiting. Morrell, with, a final cackle, made leisurelyfor the door. As he laid his hand on the knob, Keith spoke:

"By the way, Morrell. "

Morrell turned. 

"Take care you don't overdo this, " advised Keith, very deliberately. 

Morrell examined him. Keith's face was grim. He smiled enigmatically. 

"Tact is a blessed gift, old top, " said he, and went out. 

XXVIII

This whole episode proved to be a turning-point in Keith's career. Hisrevulsion against the feminine--hence society--side of life brought aboutby the affair of Mrs. Morrell, might soon have passed, and he might soonhave returned to the old round of picnics, excursions, dinners, andparties, were it not that coincidentally a new and absorbing occupation wasthrust upon him. Dick Blatchford's case was only one of many that came tohim. He became completely immersed in the fascinating intricacies of thelaw. 

As has been previously pointed out, nowhere before nor since has purelegality been made such a fetish. It was a game played by lawyers, not anattempt to get justice done. Since, in all criminal cases at least, theprosecution was carried on by one man and his associates, poorly paid andhence of mediocre ability, and the defence conducted by the keenest brainsin the profession, it followed that convictions were rare. Homicide invarious forms was little frowned upon. Duels were of frequent occurrence, and, in several instances, regular excursions, with tickets, were organizedto see them. Street shootings of a more informal nature were too numerousto count. Invariably an attempt, generally successful, was made to arrestthe homicide. If he had money, he hired the best lawyers, and restedsecure. If he had no money, he disappeared for a time. Almost everybody hadenough money, or enough friends with money, to adopt the former course. Of1, 200 murders--or "killings"--committed in the San Francisco of those days, there was just _one_ legal conviction!

It was a point of professional pride with a lawyer to get his client free. Indeed, to fail would be equivalent to losing a very easy game. The wholebattery of technical delays, demurrers, etc. , was at his command; a muchlarger battery than even the absurd criminal courts of our present day canmuster. Delays to allow the dispersal of witnesses were easily arrangedfor, as were changes of venue to courts either prejudiced in favour of thestrict interpretation of "law" or frankly venal. Of shadier expedients, such as packing juries, there seemed no end. 

Your honourable, high-minded lawyers--which meant the well-dressed andprosperous--had nothing to do with such dirty work; that is, directly. There were plenty of lawyers not so honourable and high minded called in as"counsel. " These little lawyers, shoulder strikers, bribe givers andtakers, were held in good-humoured contempt by the legal stars--whoemployed them! Actual dishonesty was diluted through a number of men. Packing a jury was a fine art. Initially was needed connivance at thesheriff's office. Hence lawyers, as a class, were in politics. Neither thestellar lawyer nor the sheriff knew any of the details of the transaction. A sum of money went to the former's "counsel" as expenses, and emerged, considerably diminished, in the sheriff's office as "perquisites. " It hadgone from the counsel to somebody like Mex Ryan, from him to various plug-uglies, ward heelers, shoulder strikers, from them to one or another of theprofessional jurymen, and then on the upward curve through the sheriff'sunderlings who made out the jury lists to Webb himself. The thing was done. 

In this tortuous way many influences were needed. The most honest lawyer'slimit as to the queer things he would do depended on his individualconscience. It is extraordinary what long training and the moral support ofa whole profession will do toward educating a conscience. Do not despiseunduly the lawyers of that day. We have all of us good friends in the legalprofession who will defend in court a criminal they know to be guilty ascharged. They will urge that no man should go undefended; and will arguethemselves into a belief that in such a case "defence" means not merelyfair play, but a desperate effort to get him off anyhow--trainedconscience. If such sophistries are sincerely believed by honest mennowadays, it cannot be wondered at that queerer sophistries passed currentin a community not five years old. It was difficult to draw the linebetween the men who mistakenly believed themselves honest and those whoknew themselves dishonest. 

But once in politics there could be no end. In this field the law rubbedshoulders with big contracts, big operations. A city was being built, in afew years, out of nothing, by a busy, careless, and shifting population. The opportunities for making money on public works--either honestly or byjobbery--were almost unlimited. The mood of the times was extravagant. Fromthe still unexhausted placers poured a flood of gold, hard money, tangiblewealth; and a large percentage of it paused in San Francisco, changed handsbefore continuing its journey. Immigrants brought with them a lesser butstill significant sum. Money was easy. People could and would pay hightaxes without a thought, for they would rather pay well to be let alonethan bother with public affairs. The city treasury should have been full tobursting. In addition, the municipality was rich in its real estate. Thevalue of all land had gone up immensely; any time more cash was needed itcould quickly be raised by the sale of public lots. The supply seemedinexhaustible. 

Like hyenas to a kill the public contractors gathered. Immense public workswere undertaken at enormous prices. Paving, sewers, grading, filling, lighting, wharves, buildings Were all voted; and the work completed in thequickest, flimsiest, most slipshod fashion; and at terrible prices. TheGraham House, a pretentious frail structure that had failed as a hotelbecause a swamp lay between it and the city, was bought at a huge price toserve as city hall. It was a veritable white elephant, and even the busypopulace spared time to grumble at the flagrant steal. Nobody knew what itwould cost to make the thing habitable even. Soon, to every one's relief, it burned down. The property was then swindled over to Peter Smith. TheJenny Lind Theatre, an impossible, ramshackle structure, was purchased overthe vigorous protest of every decent citizen, for the enormous sum of$300, 000. Another $100, 000 was alleged to have been spent in remodellingand furnishing it. Then it was solemnly declared "unsuited to the purpose. "It also burned down in one of the numerous fires. But the money was safe!

To get such deals as these through "legally" it was of course necessarythat officials, councilmen, engineers, etc. , should be sympathetic. Naturally the big operators, as well as the big lawyers, had to go intopolitics. Elections came soon to be so many farces. In some wards no decentcitizen dared show his face. "Shoulder strikers" were openly hired forpurposes of intimidation. Bribery was scarcely concealed. And if thingslooked doubtful, there were always the election inspectors and judges inreserve who could be relied upon to make things come out right in the finalcount. The proper men were always returned as elected. If violence or fraudwere alleged, lawyers always got the accused off in a strictly legalmanner. 

In these matters, it must be repeated, no opprobrium ever rested on eitherthe big lawyers or the big operators. "Expenses" went to the underlings, and after some mysterious subterranean manipulation, of which the bigfellows remained blandly unconscious, results came back. 

In the world of public works Keith rapidly made himself a position. He wasleading counsel for Dick Blatchford and one or two others. His job was toknow all the rules of the game so well that there were no comebacks; to setthe machinery in motion by which the contracts were procured; and tostraighten out any irregularities that might arise afterward. His positionwas almost academic. The matters he fought and decided were so detachedfrom actuality, as far as he was concerned, that they might have beenhypothetical cases. When Dick wanted anything specific, Keith instructedPatsy Corrigan to see that the proper officials awarded the contract. Ifthe matter ever came to the courts, Keith furnished the brains and Patsysomehow "saw" the sheriff and whoever was necessary from the mysteriousunderworld. Everybody was doing the same thing. In the minds of men profitsof any sort were legitimate provided they were "legal, " but especiallyagainst so vague an entity as a community. Civic consciousness had not beenborn in them, for the simple reason that the city was constituted perfectlyto suit them. Only when men are dissatisfied with their government do theyseek to become responsible for it. There was no active public opinionagainst them. Men were too busy to bother with such things. Occasionally afairly vigorous protest against some peculiarly outrageous steal madeitself heard, but the men who made it were either cranks or it wassuspected they had been pinched in some way. They merely represented theopposition any active man expects. 

And every last one of these merry, jovial pirates was inordinately proud ofthe ship he was helping to scuttle! That one fact, attentively considered, explains much. 

The city was growing, it was taking on a permanent character. In spite ofwaste, shoddy work, and frequent fires, its vitality was triumphant. Thesand hills had all been graded flat, and the material from them had filledin the water lots of the bay; miles of fireproof brick structures had beenbuilt on four or five streets; there were now a half score of long wharvesinstead of one; omnibuses ran everywhere; fine steamers plied tofashionable watering places about the bay; the planks in the streets werebeing replaced by cobblestones; telegraph service had been inaugurated toSan José and Sacramento; several new theatres had been built; gas lampswere being placed about the streets; huge wooden palaces with muchscrollwork ornamentation were being built on Stockton Street and the RinconHill. All these things, as well as the climate, the mines, the agriculturalresources, the commerce, the scenery, were fully appreciated andenthusiastically made the most of by every mother's son. Any man among themwas ready at a moment's notice to wax enthusiastic about the resources andthe future of the place. They were "boosters" in the modern acceptation ofthe term. 

XXIX

In this eager, fast-living, nervous, high-strung man's world Keith took tohimself a prominent part. He was so fully-occupied in other directions thathis practice did not lead him into criminal law, so he missed an influencethat must have either ended by blunting or repelling him. He correspondedto what nowadays would be called a corporation lawyer. His clients werefew, but wealthy, powerful, and remunerative; his cases were subtle andhard fought, He enjoyed the intricate game for its own sake, and he enjoyedhis success in it. In the inevitable give and take of a complicated worldhe knew, of course, of shady doings beneath; but he was not personallyinvolved; he accepted them as part of the make-up of society, human nature, the medium--of work. 

But Nan was necessarily left more and more to her own devices. And, further, she was left alone without even the preoccupation furnished herdomestic side by such an affair as that with Mrs. Morrell. She knew thatKeith was wholly absorbed in his business. She was loyal to his unexpressedidea that in these propitious beginnings he must devote all his energies tohis career. She was loyal to his preoccupation. It was the only way inwhich she could help. And yet, without being given cause for grievance, shewas temporarily thrust outside his life, put in cold storage, as it were, until she should be wanted. He bolted immediately after breakfast; often hedid not come home to lunch; was quite likely to go out again in theevening. 

It followed that Nan had to make her own life out of the materials at hand. This was at first difficult, for all the materials were novel to her. Gradually, however, she fitted herself into the social transformation thatwas taking place. 

Heretofore, society had not existed. Now, vaguely, it was beginning to takecoherence and form. A transition period was on. The "nobs" were evolvingfrom chaos. People of the fast Morrell type were losing their influence andascendency, were being pushed aside to the fringes by the more "solid"elements. Wealth and arrogant dignity were coming into their innings. Formal functions, often on an elaborate scale, were taking the place of theharum-scarum informal parties. There came up some questions of socialleadership. In short, social life was developing into the usual game. Lacking other interests, Nan found it amused her to play at it, to contendwith the leaders, to form alliances, to declare war, to assume by right andtalent her place among the best. 

This pleased Keith. Social standing helped him in business; and he enjoyedthe sight of his beautiful young wife queening it serenely over the city'sbest. He was always eager to advance money for new gowns or expensiveparties. At first he went out with her, but soon found that three o'clockin the morning meant a next day's brain dulled of its keenest edge. But hewould not hear of her staying at home on his account. 

"I'm tired, and I'm going to bed right away, " he told her. "You go anduphold the splendour of the family. Get Ben to take you. "

Ben Sansome was to Keith a tremendous convenience. He was the only idle manin town, always on tap, ready to stay out any and every night until thecocks crowed. Why shouldn't he? He had nothing to do all next day, except, perhaps, to decide which stick he should carry! With a busy man's good-humoured contempt for the mere idler, Keith looked upon Sansome as aharmless household-pet sort of person; good natured, accommodating, pleasant to talk to, good looking, foppish in dress, but beneath anyserious human being's notice. Sansome was on easy terms of intimacy withthe Keiths. It was mighty good of him to look out for Nan. If he did not, Keith would have to. 

In this formative period Ben Sansome was, however, a very important figurein the woman's world. Social construction was a ticklish matter. There wereso many things to be decided; small items of etiquette, the "proper thing"--procedure, decorations, good form, larger matters as to whether so-and-soshould be received, and if so, how extensively. Ben Sansome was past masterof such things. He was the only man in town who knew--or cared--how to"draw lines. " He became truly a modern _arbiter elegantiarum_. For SanFrancisco had begun in real earnest to "draw lines. "

They were rather strange lines at times. Of course such people as theBrannans, Montgomerys, Terrys, Bushs, Bakers, Caldwells, and other "oldfamilies" (three or four years old), went without saying. Also wereincluded the greater merchants and their feminine representatives, such asPalmer, Cook, Adams, Wilkins, and the like. Also there seemed to be a solidfoundation of those respectable and powerful with plenty of wealth--"buthopeless, my dear, absolutely hopeless!" groaned some of the liveliermembers. 

Lightning struck capriciously at those on whom this new society mightfrown, on those who as lately as last year had ridden the crest of thewave. For example, it spared Sally Warner, with her spotted veils drawnclose around her face, her red belts, and her red tufts on her smalltoques, but it blasted the Morrells. Mrs. Morrell clung tenaciously to theoutskirts, but she knew only too well that she did not "belong. " In herheart she ascribed this fact to Mrs. Keith. This was unjust, but it addedto her bitterness against her neighbours. 

Perhaps her suspicions were not unnatural, for Nan won easily in this game. She was undoubtedly the social leader. It seemed eminently fitting that, lacking her husband, she should go out much with Ben Sansome. Most womenthought her lucky to have acquired so valuable a social acquisition. Somepeople, like fat, coarse, sensible Mrs. Dick Blatchford, were a littledoubtful. 

"Shucks!" snorted Sally Warner, slapping her little riding boot dashinglywith her latest novelty, an English hunting crop, "Nan Keith impresses meas one who knows her way about. And, anyway, as long as Mr. Keith issatisfied, I'm sure we should be!"

XXX

To his surprise Ben Sansome found himself warming to what he considered areal passion. At least it was as real a passion as he was capable offeeling. Sansome had always been spoiled. Accustomed as he was to easyconquests, especially of late among the faster San Francisco women of theearly days, Nan Keith's very aloofness attracted him. She dwelt in a sereneatmosphere of unsuspicion, going about freely with him, taking their rightrelations for granted, and not thinking about them. Contemplating this, Sansome was clever enough to see that, a false move at the wrong time woulddo for him. Therefore, he occupied himself at first merely in makinghimself useful. He accepted Keith's rôle for him, becoming the friend ofthe family, dropping in often and informally, happening on the spot at justthe right time to relieve Keith of the necessity of escorting Nan to thisor that tea or ball. So well did he play his part that at last there came atime when Keith said:

"I'm dead tired to-night, Nan. Seems as if I couldn't stand chatter. Can'tyou send a note around to Ben and see if he can't get you there and back?"

This came to be a regular thing. If Sansome did not happen to be there, hewas sent for. And his engagements were never such that he failed to accept. 

He and Keith called each other by their given names; but even after a closeintimacy had been established, he never addressed Nan by hers. 

"You sound very formal, " she hinted to him at last. 

"To me the privilege of calling you by your 'little name' is so great anevidence of friendship, that it actually seems like flaunting thatfriendship to call you so before others" he replied. 

Always after that he called her "Nan" when they were alone together, but"Mrs. Keith" when a third, even Keith himself, was present. In that waytheir tête-à-têtes were marked off a little. When alone with her hemaintained the pose of one struggling manfully against tremendoustemptations held back only by her sweet influence. But he never overdid it. As they came to know each other better, he talked ever the more freely ofmen's mysterious temptations. Nan could not define to herself exactly whatthey might be. 

"Yesterday I couldn't see you, " he told her. "I struggled with myself allday. Good God, what does a woman like you know of a man's weaknesses andtemptations--But I conquered. "

Nan was uneasy. She did not know quite what it was all about, but herinstincts warned her. 

"I am glad, " she replied; and went on hastily, "but you must tell me whatyou think about having the tea served in the arbour on the seventh, I'vebeen dying to ask you. "

With an obvious effort to be cheerful about this fresh subject, he wrenchedhimself into a new mood. They consulted on the party for the seventh. Hebroke off abruptly to say: "Do you know you're an extraordinary person--butyou are!" he overrode her protests. "Don't I know the ordinary kind? Womenhave a deep strength of their own that men cannot understand. "

He stayed only a few minutes after that. On parting he for the first timepermitted himself a lingering gaze into her eyes as he reluctantlyrelinquished her hand. She turned away, distinctly uneasy. Yet so skilfullyhad he woven, his illusion of dependence on her that she shook it off witha tender and maternal smile. 

"Poor boy, " she murmured. "He is so unhappy and alone!"

Sansome was an accomplished equestrian. Finding that Nan knew nothingwhatever about riding, he procured her a gentle horse, and took thegreatest trouble and pleasure in teaching her. She proved apt, for she hadgood natural control of her body. After the first uncertainty and the firststiffness had worn off, she delighted in long rides toward different partsof the peninsula. Gringo, now a full-grown dog inclining toward theshepherd more than anything else, delighted in them, too. He ranged far andwide in front of the horses, exploring every ditch and thicket, wallowinghappily in every mudhole, returning occasionally to roll his comical eyesat them as though to say, "Aren't we having a good time?" for Gringo was adog with a sense of humour. On these excursions she renewed acquaintancewith the sand dunes, and the little cañons with birds, and the broad beachat low tide on which it was glorious to gallop. Once or twice they evenstopped at the little rancho where the Keiths had lunched. There Nan, through Sansome, who talked Spanish, was able to communicate with herkindly hosts; and Gringo met his honoured but rather snappy mother. Themother disowned him utterly. As the days grew shorter they often rode onthe Presidio hills, watching the sun set beyond the Golden Gate. 

One such evening they had reined up their horses atop one of the hills nextthe Gate. The sun had set somewhere beyond the headlands. Tamalpais wasdeep pink with the glow; the water in the Gate was pale lilac; the skyclose to the horizon burned orange, but above turned to a pale green thatmade with its lucent colour alone infinite depths and spaces. Below, thedarker waters twisted and turned with the tide. The western headlands wereblack silhouettes. 

"Oh, but it is beautiful!" she said at last. 

"Yes, it is beautiful, " he agreed somberly; "but when one is lonely, somehow it hurts. "

There ensued a short, tense silence, broken only by the soft rolling of thebit wheels in the horses' mouths. 

"Yes, " she agreed softly, after a moment, "I feel that, too. Yet sometimesI wonder if one doesn't see and feel more keenly when one is not toohappy--" She hesitated. 

"Yes, yes! Go on!" he urged in a low voice. His tone, his attitude, suddenly seemed to envelop her with understanding. He appeared to offer heraid, chivalrous aid, although no word was spoken. She had not quite meantit that way; in fact, her thought was to offer _him_ sympathy. But somehowit was grateful. It would do no harm to enjoy it, secretly, for a moment. His unexpressed sympathy--for what she would have been unable to say--wasattractive to her isolation. 

Often on returning from these rides she asked him in for a cup of tea. Occasionally, when she was overheated, or damp from the fog, she wouldexcuse herself and slip into a soft negligee. With lamp and fire lit theymade a very cozy tête-à-tête. He smoked contemplatively; she stitched atthe inevitable embroidery of the period. Occasionally they talkedanimatedly; quite as frequently they sat in sociable silence. Gringo sleptby the fire dreaming of rabbits and things, his hind legs twitching as hetriumphantly ran them down. One evening she caught sight of a rip in thesewing of his tobacco pouch. In spite of his protests, she insisted onsewing it up for him. She was conscious of his eyes on her while she pliedthe needle, and felt somehow very feminine and sure of her power. 

"There!" she cried, when she had finished. "You certainly do need somebodyto take care of you!"

He took it without spoken thanks, and put it slowly away in his pocket--asthough, he would have kissed it. A pregnant silence followed, he sittingstaring at her, she jabbing the needle idly into the arm of her chair. Suddenly, as though taking a tremendous resolution, he spoke:

"Nan, I am going to ask you a question. You must not be offended. Do youreally love your husband?" At her hasty movement he hurried on: "I imagineI feel something unsatisfied about you--besides, lots of women don't. "

As he probably expected, her indignation was thoroughly aroused. He tookhis castigation and dismissal meekly, and found some interest in theensuing negotiations toward reconciliation. No one knew better than he howto sue for forgiveness. But he was quite satisfied to have implanted theidea, for Ben Sansome was content with slow coral-insect progress. A busyman, engaged in men's occupations, would never have had the patience forthis leisurely establishment of atmosphere and influence; his impatience orpassion would have betrayed him to an early outbreak. But with Sansome itwas the practice of a fine art. He knew just how far to go. No one couldmore skilfully ingratiate himself in small ways. He always knew what gownshe should wear or had worn, and always commented appreciatively on whatshe had on. Keith merely knew vaguely whether she looked well or ill. Sansome noticed and praised little things--her well-shod feet, the redlights in her hair, an unusual flower in her belt. He knew every hat sheowned, and he had his well-marked preferences. He never made direct love, nor attempted to touch her. She felt the growing attraction, enjoyed it, but did not analyze it. She merely considered Ben Sansome as "nice, " asneeding guidance, as romantic----

Occasionally, after seeing more than usual of him, some feeling of reactionor some faint stirring of conscience would impel her--perhaps to convinceherself of the harmlessness of it all--to make an especial effort to drawher husband out of his preoccupation into more human relations. She dressedwith great care, earlier than usual; she gathered flowers for the vases, she fussed about lighting lamps, placing ash trays and chairs, generallyarranging the setting for his welcome home. The preparations kindled herown enthusiasm. She became herself quite worked up in anticipation. Whenshe heard his step, she ran to meet him in the hall. Keith happened to betired to the point of exhaustion. 

"Good heavens!" was his comment; "are we having company to-night? Why allthe clothes and illumination?"

His relaxed, dispirited manner of removing and hanging up his coat reactedupon her instantly. Her high spirits sank to the depths. They ate theirmeal in almost complete silence. Nan could not help visualizing Sansome'sappreciation of such an occasion. 

XXXI

The new coherence in society began to manifest itself in one important way:public gambling declined. In the "old days" it was said that everybody butclergymen frequented the big gambling halls. They were a sort of club. Butnow the most influential citizens began to stay away. Probably they gambledas much as ever, but they took such pleasures in private. Two or three onlyof the larger places remained in business. Save for them, open gambling wasconfined to the low dives near the water front. There was no definitemovement against the practice. It merely fell off gradually. 

During these busy years the Sherwoods had quite methodically continued tolead their customary lives. He read his morning paper on the veranda of theBella Union, talked his leisurely politics, drove his horses, and in theevening attended to his business. She drove abroad, received her menfriends, gave them impartial advice and help in their difficulties, dressedwell, and carried on a life of many small activities. The Sherwoods werealways an attractive looking and imposing couple, whenever they appeared. About three or four times a year they drove into the residential part oftown and made a half-dozen formal calls--on the Keiths among others. Probably their lives were more nearly ordered on a routine than those ofany other people in the new city. 

One afternoon Sherwood came in at the usual hour, deposited his high hatcarefully on the table, flicked the dust off his boots, and remarkedcasually:

"Patsy, I've sold the business. "

Mrs. Sherwood was pinning on her hat. She stopped short, her hand halfwayto her head, as though turned to marble. After a moment she asked in aquick, stifled voice:

"What do you mean?"

"Well, " replied Sherwood, continuing methodically to readjust his dress, "I've been thinking for some time that times were changing. The gamblingbusiness is losing tone. I don't see the same class of people I used tosee. Public sentiment--of the very best people, I mean--is drifting awayfrom it. In the future, in my judgment, it's not going to pay as it ought. I've been thinking these things for some time. So when a bona fidepurchaser came along----"

But he got no further. With a smothered cry she let her arms drop. Hercustomary poise had vanished. She flung herself on him, laughing, crying, gasping. 

"Why, Patsy! Patsy!" he cried, patting her small, sleek head as it pressedagainst his shoulder. "What is it, dearie? Tell me? What's wrong?"

He was vastly perturbed and anxious, for she was not at all the type thatloses control readily. 

"Nothing! nothing!" she gasped. "I'll be all right in a minute. Don't mindme. Just let me alone. Only you told me so suddenly----"

"Don't you want me to sell?" he asked, utterly bewildered. 

Gradually he gathered from her disjointed exclamations that this was justthe one thing she had wanted, secretly, for years; the thing she hadschooled herself not to hope for; the last thing in the world she hadexpected. And to his astonishment he gathered further that now she was freeshe could take her place with the other women----

"But I hadn't the slightest idea you wanted to!" he interrupted at thispoint. "You've never showed any signs of paying the slightest attention tothem before!"

She was drying her eyes, and looking a little happily foolish. 

"I knew better than to give them a chance to snub me, " she told him. "NowI'm respectable. "

But at this Sherwood reared his crest. 

"Respectable!" he snorted, "What do you mean? Haven't you always beenrespectable? I'd like to see anybody who would hint--"

"You're a dear, but you're a man, " she broke in more calmly. "Don't youknow that a gambler's wife isn't respectable--in their sense of the word?"

"But every mother's son of them gambles!" cried Sherwood. "It's a perfectlylegal and legitimate occupation!"

"The men do; we'd always get along if it was only a question of the men. But the women make distinctions--"

"Look here!" he broke out wrathfully. "There's Dick Blatchford mixed up indirty work for dirty money I wouldn't lay my fingers on; and Terry, orBrannan, or McGowan, or all the rest of the boodling, land-grabbing, pettifogging crew! Why, if I made my living or spare cash the way that gangof pirates and cutthroats do I'd carry a pair of handcuffs for myself. Honest! Respectable! I've got no kick on their methods; it's, none of mybusiness. But their wives are all right. I don't see it!"

"It's all names, I acknowledge, " she soothed, "just names, I attach no moreweight to them than you do. Don't you suppose I'd have said something if Ihad thought you were doing anything wrong? But that's the way they play thegame, and it is their game. If we play it we've got to accept their rules. Don't you see?"

"Well, it's a mighty poor game, " grumbled Sherwood, "and they strike me asan exceptionally stupid lot of women. They'd drive me to drink. I don't seewhat you want to bother with them for. "

"They are, " she agreed. "They won't amuse me much--you couldn't understand--it's just the _idea_ of it--But I won't be looked down on, even by myinferiors! Tell me, Jack, when we sell the business are we going to bewealthy, will we have plenty of money?"

A hurt look came into his fine, straightforward eyes. 

"Haven't you always had all you wanted, Patsy?" he inquired. 

"Of course I have, you old goose! But I want to know what our resources arebefore I plan my campaign. "

"Going in up to your neck, are you?" he commented ruefully. 

She nodded. Her eyes were bright, and a spot of colour glowed in eithercheek. 

"Course I am. What can I spend?"

"You can have whatever you want. "

"That's too vague, too indefinite. How rich--or poor--are we going to be?"

"We'll be rich enough. "

"Very?"

"Well--yes, very. The business has paid, investments have panned out. I gota good cash purchase price. "

"How much can I spend a year?" she persisted. "It doesn't matter whetherit's much or little, but I want to know. "

"What a mercenary little creature!" he cried facetiously, then sobered ashe saw by the expression of her face that this, apparently trivial thingmeant a great deal to her. "Oh, fifty thousand or so won't cripple us. "

"A year?" she breathed, awed. 

He nodded. 

"Oh!" she cried rapidly. "Then we'll have a house--a house built for ourvery own selves, our very own plans!"

"Why, I thought we were very comfortable here!" he protested, a littledismayed. "Haven't we room enough? I'll make Rebinot cut a door----"

"No! no! no! a house of my own!" She was on fire with excitement, walkingrestlessly up and down. He watched her a moment or so. His slowerimagination was kindling. He was beginning to grasp the symbolism of it, what it meant to her, the release of long-pent secret desires. As shepassed him, he seized her and drew her gently to his knee. 

"Patsy!" he cried contritely, "I didn't realize! I didn't guess you weren'tperfectly contented here!"

She brushed his cheek with hers. 

"Of course you didn't, " she reassured him. 

"If you'd the slightest----"

She threw her head back proudly, her breast swelled. 

"I married you to lead your life. Jack, whatever it was, " she told him, "tobe your _help_mate. "

"You're the game little sportsman in this town!" he cried. "And if you wantto make those flub-dubs crawl, by God you sail in! I'll back you!"

Ten minutes later she asked him:

"What are you going to do, yourself, Jack? Somehow, I can't imagine youidle. "

"Well, " said Sherwood, "the boys are organizing a stock exchange, and itstruck me that it might be a good idea if I went into that. "

She began to laugh softly, in affectionate amusement. 

"Stop it!" he commanded indignantly. "I know that laugh, What have I donenow?"

"I was just thinking what a nice, _respectable_ gambler you are going to benow, " she said, "It's in your blood, Jack, and I love it--but it's funny!"

XXXII

But now, at the very sources, the full flood of the somewhat turbid tide ofprosperity was beginning to fail. The ebb had not yet reached the civicconsciousness. It would have required a philosopher, and a detachedphilosopher at that, to have connected cause and effect, to have forecastthe inevitable trend of events. If there were any philosophers they werenot detached! Nobody had discovered the simple truth that extravagance, graft, waste, cost money; and that the money must come from somewhere. Realization on its property and taxes were the twin sources of the city'srevenues. The property was now about all sold or swindled away. Remainedthe taxes. And it is a self-evident truth that people will pay high taxescheerfully only so long as they themselves are making plenty of moneyeasily. 

Up to this period such had been the case. Prices had been high, wages hadbeen high, opportunities had been many. Enormous profits had been the rule. Everybody had invariably made money. These conditions upset the mentalbalance of the shipping merchants back East. A madness seemed to obsessthem for sending goods to California. The mere rumour of a want or a lackwas answered by immense shipments of that particular commodity. The firstcargo to arrive supplied the want; all the rest simply broke the market. Itwas a gamble as to who should get there first. The immediate andpicturesque consequence was a fleet of beautiful clipper ships, built likeracing yachts, with long clean lines and snowy sails. They madeextraordinarily fast voyages, and they promptly condemned to death the old-fashioned, slow freight carriers. Indeed, four-hundred odd of theseactually rotted at anchor in the bay; it had not paid to move them! Some ofthese clippers gained vast reputations: the _Flying Cloud_, the _WhiteSquall_, the _Typhoon_, the _Trade Wind_. The markets were continually in astate of glut with goods sold at auction. This condition tightened themoney market, which in turn reacted on other branches of industry. Again, the great fires of '49-'53 resulted in the erection of too many fireproofbuildings. Storage was needed, and rentals were high, so everybody plungedon storehouses. By '54 many hundreds of them stood vacant, representingloss. At that period the first abundance of the placers began to fall off. 

Agriculture was beginning to be undertaken seriously; and while this wouldbe an ultimate source of wealth, its immediate effect was to diminish thedemand for imported foodstuffs--another blow to a purely mercantile city. 

All this made for excitement, some immediate gain, but a sure ultimateloss. Markets fluctuated wildly. A ship in sight threw operators into afever. No one knew what she might be carrying, or how she would, affectprices. It was, therefore, positively unsafe to keep-many goods is stock. Quick, immediate sales were the rule. And failures were many. 

Now in these middle fifties the pinch was beginning at last to itself felt. Everybody was a little vague about it all, and nobody had gone so far as toformulate his dissatisfactions or his remedies. The tangible result was theformation of two as yet inchoate elements, representing the extremes ofideas and of interests. 

The first of these elements--that can with equal justice be called theparasitic or the middleman class--consisted in itself of several sorts ofpeople. The nucleus was a small, intellectually honest set of men whobelieved, in the law _per se_, in the sacredness of formal institutions inthe constitution, and in the subservience of the individual to theinstitution. This was temperamental. Behind them were many much largergroups of those needed either the interpretation or the protection of thelaw for their private interests. These were of all sorts from honestliteral-minded dealers, through shady contractors and operators, down tografters and the very lowest type of strong-arm bullies. The tone andrespectability came from the first, the practical results from the second. The first class had a genuine intellectual contempt for men whose mindscould not see--or at least would not accept--the same subtleties that itdid. Its members were fond of such phrases as the "lawless mob, " or the"subversion of time-honoured institutions. " This small, subjectivelyhonest, conservative, specially trained element must not be forgotten inthe final estimate of what later came to be known as the "Law and Order"party. 

On the other hand was first of all an equally small nucleus of thinking menwhose respect for the law, merely as law, was not so profound; men whowere, reluctantly, willing to admit that when law completely broke down inencompassing justice, individualism was justified in stepping in. Behindthem was a vast body of more or less unthinking men who recognized theindubitable facts that the law had become a farce, that justice haddegenerated to tricks, and who were, therefore, instinctively against law, lawyers, and everybody who had anything to do with them. 

Strangely enough this made for lawlessness on both sides. Those whobelieved in "law and order" committed crime or misdemeanour or mereinjustice, sure of escape through some technicality. Those who distrustedcourts administered justice illegally with their own hands! Nor was thismerely in theory. San Francisco at that time was undoubtedly the mostcorrupt and lawless city in the world. Street shootings, duels, robberies, ballot-box stuffing, bribery, all the crimes traceable to a supine policeand venal or technical courts were actually so commonplace as to commandbut two or three lines in the daily papers. Justice was completelysmothered under technicalities and delays. 

The situation would have been intolerable to any people less busy than thepeople of that time. For political corruption in a vigorous body politic isnot, as pessimists would have us believer an indication of incipient decay, but only an indication that a busy people are willing to pay that price tobe left alone, to be relieved of the administration of their publicaffairs, When they get less busy, or the price in corruption becomes toohigh, then they refuse to pay. The price Francisco was paying becoming veryhigh, not only in money, but in other and spiritual things. She could stillafford to pay it; but at the least pressure she would no longer afford it. Then she would act. 

XXXIII

In the second year of his residence Keith had a minor adventure thatshifted a portion of his activities to other fields. He was in attendanceat a council meeting, following the interests of certain clients. Theevening was warm, the proceedings dull. Opened windows let in the soundsfrom the Plaza and a night air that occasionally flared the smoky lamps. The clerk's voice was droning away at some routine when the outer dooropened and a most extraordinary quartette entered the chamber. Three ofthese were the ordinary, ragged, discouraged, emaciated, diseased "bums, "only too common in that city. In early California a man either succeeded orhe failed into a dark abyss of complete discouragement; the newcivilization had little use for weaklings. The fourth man can be no betterdescribed than in the words of a chronicler of the period. Says the worthydiarist:

"He was a man of medium stature, slender but very graceful, with almosteffeminate hands and feet--the former scrupulously kept, the latter neatlyshod--and with a certain air of fragility; very soft blue eyes with sleepylids; a classically correct nose; short upper lip; rosy, moist lips. Hisclothes: a claret-coloured coat, neither dress nor frock, but mixed of bothfashions, with a velvet collar and brass buttons; a black vest, doublebreasted; iron-gray pantaloons; fresh, well-starched, and very fine linen;plain black cravat, negligently tied; a cambric handkerchief; and dark kidgloves. He wore gold spectacles, and carried a malacca cane. "

Instead of slipping into the seats provided for spectators, this strikingindividual marched boldly to the open space before the mayor's chair, followed, shamefaced and shambling, by the three bums. 

"Your honours and gentlemen, " he cried in a clear, ringing voice, to thescandal of the interrupted legislators, "we are very sick and hungry andhelpless and wretched. If somebody does not do something for us, we shalldie; and that would be bad, considering how far we have come, and how hardit was to get here, and how short a time we have been here, and that wehave not had a fair chance. All we ask is a fair chance, and we say again, upon our honour, gentlemen, if somebody does not do something for us, weshall die, or we shall be setting fire to the town first and cutting allour throats. "

He stood leaning lightly against his malacca cane, surveying them throughhis sleepy blue eyes. The first astonishment over, they took up acollection, after the customary careless, generous fashion. The young mansaluted with his cane, and herded his three exhibits out. 

Keith, much struck, followed them, overtaking the quartette on the street. 

"My name is Keith, " he said, "I should like to make your acquaintance. "

"Mine is Krafft, " replied the unknown, "and I am delighted to accept yourproffer. "

He said nothing more until he had marshalled his charges, into a cheapeating-house, ordered and paid for a supper, and divided the remainder ofthe amount collected. Then he dusted his fingers daintily with a finehandkerchief, and sauntered out into the street, swinging his malacca cane. 

"Incidents of that sort restore one's faith in the generosity of ourpeople, " Keith remarked, in order to say something. 

"Nobody has been generous, " denied Krafft categorically, "and no particulargood has been accomplished. Filled their bellies for this evening; giventhem a place to sleep for this night; that's all. "

"That's something, " ventured Keith. "It helps. "

"The only way to help we have not undertaken. We have done nothing towardfinding out why there are such creatures--in a place like this. That's theonly way to help them: find out why they are, and then remove the why. "

This commonplace of modern charity was then a brand-new thought. Keith hadnever heard it expressed, and he was much interested. 

"I suppose there are always the weak and the useless, " he said vaguely. 

"If those men were wholly weak and useless, how did they get out here?"countered Krafft. "To compass such a journey takes a certain energy, acertain sum of money, a certain fund of hope. The money goes, the energydrains, the hope fades. Why?"

They stopped at a corner. 

"I live just near here, " said Krafft. "If you will honour me. "

He led the way down a narrow dark alley, along which they had fairly togrope their way. It debouched, however, into the forgotten centre of thesquare. All the edges had been built close with brick stores, warehouses, and office buildings. But in the very middle had been left a waste piece ofground, occupied only by a garden and a low one-room abode, with a verandaand a red-tiled roof. Under the moonlight and the black shadows from themodern buildings it slept amid its bright flowers with the ancient air ofanother world. Krafft turned a key and lighted a lamp. Keith found himselfin a small, neat room, with heavy beams, fireplace, and deep embrasuredwindows. An iron bed, two chairs, a table, a screen, a shelf of books, anda wardrobe were its sole furnishings. In the fireplace had been laid, butnot lighted, a fire of sagebrush roots. 

Krafft touched a match to the roots, which instantly leaped into eager andaromatic flames. From a shelf he took a new clay pipe which he handed toKeith. 

"Tobacco is in that jar, " he said. 

He himself filled and lighted a big porcelain pipe with wexelwood stem. 

"What would you do about it?" asked Keith, continuing the discussion. 

"What would you most want, if you were those poor men?" retorted Krafft, blowing a huge cloud. 

Keith laughed. 

"Drink, food, clothes, bed, " he stated succinctly. 

"And work wherewith to get them, " supplemented Krafft. 

Keith laughed again. 

"Not if I know their sort! Work is the one thing they _don't_ want. "

Krafft leaned forward, and tapped the table with one of his longforefingers, "The lazy part of them, the earthen part of them, the dross of them--yes, perhaps. But let us concede to them a spark that smoulders, way down deepwithin them--a spark of which they think they are ashamed, which they donot themselves realize the existence of except occasionally. What is thedeep need of them? It is to feel that they are still of use, that theyamount to something, that they are men. That more than mere food andwarmth. Is it not so?"

"I believe you're right, " said Keith, impressed. 

"Then, " said Krafft triumphantly, "it _is_ work they want, work that isuseful and worth paying for. "

"But there's plenty of work to be had, " objected Keith, after a moment. "Infact, there's more work in this town than there are men to do it. "

"True, But it is the hard work these men have failed at. It is too hard. They try; they are discouraged; they fall again, and perhaps they never getup. Such men must be led, must be watched, must be stopped within theirstrength. "

"Who's there to do that sort of dry nursing of bums?" demanded Keith with ahalf laugh. 

"He who would help, " said Krafft quietly. 

They smoked for some time in silence; then Keith arose to go. 

"It is a big idea; it requires thought, " said he ruminativeiy. "You are arecent arrival, Mr. Krafft? What is your line of activity?"

The slight, elegant little man smiled. 

"I am one of the--what is it you called, them--bums of whom we talk. I tryto do what is within my power, within my strength-lest I, too, becomediscouraged, lest I, too, fall again--and not get up. "

"I have not seen you about anywhere, " said Keith, puzzled by this speech. 

"I do not go anywhere; I should be eaten. You do not understand me, and Iam a poor host to talk in riddles. I am a philosopher, not a man of action;egotist, not an egoist; one who cannot swim in your strong waters. As Isaid, one of that same class whom your bounty helped this evening. "

"Good Lord, man!" cried Keith, looking about the little room. "You're notin want?"

Krafft laughed gently. 

"In your sense, no. I have my meals. Enough of me. Go, and think of what Isay. "

Keith did so, and the result was the first organized charity in SanFrancisco. Since 1849 men had always been exceptionally generous inresponding to appeals for money. Huge sums could easily be raised at anytime. Hospitals and almshouses dated from the first. But having given, these pioneers invariably forgot. The erection of the buildings cost morethan they should, and management being venal, conditions soon becamedisgraceful. Alms reached the professional pauper. The miner or immigrant, diseased, discouraged, out of luck, more often died--either actually ormorally. 

So much had this first interview caught his interest that Keith dropped inon his new acquaintance quite often. It soon became evident that Krafftlived in what might be called decent poverty. The one fine rig-out in whichhe made his public appearances was most carefully preserved. Indoors healways promptly assumed a dressing-gown, a skull cap with a gold tassel, and his great porcelain pipe. His meals he cooked for himself. Never did heleave his house until about three o'clock. Then, spick and span, exquisitely appointed, he sauntered forth swinging his malacca cane. Aftera promenade of several hours he returned again to his dressing-gown, hisporcelain pipe, and his books. Keith enjoyed hugely his detached, reflective, philosophical, spectator-of-life conversation. They talked onmany subjects besides sociology. At his fourth visit Krafft made asuggestion. 

"You shall come with me and see, " said he. 

He led the way to the water front under Telegraph Hill, the newest and themost squalid part of town. The shallow water was in slow process of beingfilled in by sand from the grading uptown and with all sorts ofmiscellaneous debris, Pending solidity, this sketchy real estate swarmedwith squatters. There were lots sunken below the street level, filled withstagnant water, discarded garments, old boxes, ashes, and rubbish; houseshuddled closely together with stale water beneath; there were muddy alleys;murderous cheap saloons; cheaper gambling joints; rickety, saggingtenements. The people corresponded to their habitations. All the lowelements lurked here, the thugs, strong-arm men, the hold-ups, the heelers, the weaklings, the bums, the diseased. In ordinary times they here dwelt ina twilight existence; but at periods of excitement--as when the cityburned--they swarmed out like rats for plunder. 

Krafft held his way steadily to the wharves. There he left the causeway anddescended to the level of the beach. Beneath the pilings, and above thehigh-water mark, was a little hut. It was not over six feet square, constructed of all sorts of old pieces of boxes, scraps of tin, or remnantsof canvas. Overhead rumbled continuously the heavy drays, shaking down, through the cracks the dust of the roadway. Against one outside wall ofthis crazy structure an old man sat, chair tilted in the sun. Even thechair was a curiosity, miraculously held together by wires. The man wasvery old, and very feeble, his knotted hands clasping a short, black claypipe. Inside the hut Keith, saw a rough bunk on which lay jumbled a quiltand a piece of canvas. 

"Well, John, " greeted Krafft cheerfully, "I've brought a friend to seeyou. "

The old man turned on Keith a twinkling blue eye. 

"Glad to see you, " he said briefly. 

"Getting on?" pursued Krafft. 

"Fine. "

"Here's a new kind of tobacco I want you to try. I should value youropinion. "

Keith's hand wandered toward his pocket, but stopped at a sharp look fromKrafft. After a moment's chat they withdrew. 

"What a pathetic old figure! What utter misery!" cried Keith. 

"No!" said Krafft positively. "There you are wrong. Old John is in no needof us. He has his house and his bed, and he gets his food. How, I do notknow, but he gets it. The spark is burning clear and steady. He has notlost his grip. He gets his living with confidence. Let him alone. "

"But he must be very miserable--especially when it rains, " persisted Keith. 

Krafft shrugged his shoulders. 

"As to that, I know not, " he returned indifferently. "That does not matterto the soul. I will now show you another man. "

They retraced their steps. On a corner of Montgomery Street Krafft stoppedbefore a one-armed beggar, the stump exposed, a placard around his neck. 

"Now here's another John, " said Krafft. "What he wants is work, andsomebody to see that he does it. "

The one-armed beggar, who was fat, with a good-natured countenance, evidently considered this a joke. He grinned cheerfully. 

"Don't have to, guvenor, " said he. 

"How much did you take in yesterday, John?" asked Krafft; then, catchingthe beggar's look of suspicion, he added, "This is a friend of mine; he'sall right. "

"Twenty-two dollars, " replied the beggar proudly. "Pretty good day'swages!"

"I'm afraid the spark is about out with you, John, " said Krafftthoughtfully. He walked on a few steps, then turned back. "John, " he asked, "what is your contribution to society?"

The beggar stared, uncertain of this new chaff. 

"The true theory of business, John, is that traffic which does not resultIn reciprocal advantages to buyer and seller is illegitimate, or at leastabnormal. "

They walked on, Keith laughing at the expression on the beggar's face. 

"That was considerably over his head, " he observed. 

Nothing more was said for half a block. 

"I wonder if it was over yours, " then said Krafft, unexpectedly. 

"Eh?" ejaculated Keith, bewildered. 

These walks with Krafft finally resulted in the institution of a fund whichKeith raised and put into Krafft's hands for intelligent use. The effectswere so interesting that Keith, thoroughly fascinated, began to pester hisfriends for positions for some of his protégés. As he was well-liked and inearnest, these efforts were taken good-humourediy. 

"Here comes Milt Keith, " said John Webb to Bert Taylor. "Bet you a beaverhat he's got a highly educated college professor that he wants a job for. "

"'A light job, not beyond his powers, '" quoted Taylor. 

"Like cleaning genteel spittoons, " supplemented Webb. 

"The engine house is full of 'em polishing brass, " complained Taylor. 

"Well, he's a young felly, and I like him, " concluded Webb heartily. 

Of course many of the experiments failed, but fewer than might have beenanticipated. Part of Krafft's task was to keep in touch with the men. Hisdetached, philosophical method of encouragement and analysis of thesituation seemed just the thing they needed. 

XXXIV

These activities gave Keith just the required door out into a world otherthan his own. Were it not for something of the sort he might, like manymodern corporation lawyers, have confined himself entirely to his ownclass. And this, of course, would eventually have meant narrowness. 

But through Krafft, and especially through his desire to help Krafft'swork, he came in contact with all sorts of people; and, what was moreimportant, he found that he liked a great many of them. So it happened thatwhen it seemed expedient to the ruling caste to put him in as AssistantDistrict Attorney, his inevitable election met with wider approval thansuch elections usually enjoy. 

For it must be understood that in the fifties any candidate selected by theruling caste was absolutely sure of election. The machinery was thoroughlyin their hands. Diplomacy in party caucuses, delicate manipulation atprimaries, were backed by cruder methods if need be. Associations weresemi-publically formed for the sale of votes; gangs of men were driven fromone precinct to another, voting in all; intimidation, and, indeed, openviolence, was freely used. Only the most adventurous or the most determinedthought it worth while even to try to vote in the rough precincts. And ifthe first and second lines of defence failed, there was still the third tofall back on when the booths were dosed and the ballots counted: the boxescould still be "stuffed, " the count could still be scientifically juggledto bring about any desired result. 

This particular election was one of the worst in the history of the place. All day fighting was kept up, and the rowdies swaggered everywhere. Whiskeywas to be had for the asking; and the roughs who surrounded the polls firedshots, and in some places started what might fairly be called riots. YankeeSullivan returned James Casey as elected supervisor, which was probably amistake, for Casey was not a candidate, his name was on none of theofficial ballots, and nobody could be found who had voted for him. Everybody was surprised, Casey most of all! The sixth ward count wasdelayed unconscionably, its returns being withheld until nearly morning. Itwas more than hinted that this delay was prolonged until the returns hadbeen received from all other precincts, so that any deficiencies might bemade up by the sixth. The "slate" went through unbroken. 

Of all the candidates, Keith received the most votes, for the simple reasonthat his total included both the honest and dishonest ballots. Blanchford, Neil, Palmer, Adams, all the political overlords of the city weresatisfied, as well they might be, for they had issued the fiat that he bechosen. 

"He's one of us, " said they. 

But what was more unusual, the rank and file of decent, busy, hard-workingcitizens approved, too. 

"Keith is not stuck up, " they told each other. "He is the _commonest_ manin that bunch. And he's square. "

The position carried some social as well as political significance. Societymade another effort to take him up. His rare appearances were rather in thenature of concessions. They served to make him more regretted, for he hadan easy, jolly way of moving from one group or one woman to another, ofpaying flattering, monopolizing, brief attention to each in turn, and thendisappearing, very early! His bold rather florid countenance radiatedenergy and quizzical good humour; his tight, closely curled hair crispedwith virile alertness; he carried himself taut and eager--altogether afigure to engage the curiosities of women or the interest of men. 

Mrs. Sherwood alone was shrewd enough to penetrate to his true feelings. She had experienced no difficulty in pushing to a social leadership shared--indolently and indifferently--with Nan Keith. Already her past wasgrowing dim in a tradition kept alive only by a few whisperers. Her wealth, her natural tact and poise, her calm assumption of the right to rule, hergreat personal charm, beauty, and taste were more than sufficient to gether what she wanted. The game was almost too easy, when one held the cards. 

"Yes, he's very charming, " she told her husband, "but that manner of hisdoes not impress me. As a matter of fact, he doesn't care a snap of hisfinger about any of them. He does it too well. It's a stencil. Only theoutside of him does it. He's just as bad as you are; only _he_ doesn't holdup a corner of the doorway all the evening, and beam vaguely in general, like a good-natured, dear old owl. "

XXXV

A few clear-headed men--not the "chivalry, " as the fire-eating professionalpoliticians and lawyers from the South were almost uniformly designated--were able to see exactly the problem that must eventually demand Keith'ssolution. Some of them talked it over while lounging and smoking in theFire Queen reading-room. There were present Talbot Ward and his hugesatellite, Munro; Coleman, quiet, grim, complacent, but looking, with hissweeping, inky moustache and his florid, complexion, like a flashy "sport";Hossfros, soon to become an historic character; and the banker, James Kingof William. 

The latter had recently come in for considerable public discussion. He hadfor some time conducted a banking business, but becoming involved indifficulties, he had turned over all his assets, all his personal fortune, even his dwelling-house, to another bank as trustee to take care of hisdebts. Almost immediately after, that bank had failed. Opinion in thecommunity divided according to the interests involved. The majorityconsidered that King had been almost quixotically conscientious instripping himself; but there did not lack those who accused him of sharppractice. In the course of ensuing discussions and recriminations King waschallenged to a duel. He declined to fight, basing his refusal onprinciple. As may be imagined, such an action at such a time was even morewidely commented upon than even his refusal to take advantage of thebankruptcy laws. It was, as far as known, the first time any one had hadthe moral courage to refuse a duel. King had gone quietly about hisbusiness, taking an ordinary clerkship with Palmer, Cook & Co. In the eyesof the discriminating few he had gained prestige, but most people thoughthim down and out. 

"What do you think of our new Assistant District Attorney?" Ward had begunthe conversation. 

"He's a lawyer, " growled Hossfros. 

"A pretty fairly honest one, I think, " ventured King. "His training may bewrong, but his instincts are right. "

"Fat chance anything's got when it mixes up with legalities, " supplementedFrank Munro. 

"Nevertheless, " remarked Coleman seriously, "I believe plain justice hasmore of a chance with him in charge than with another. "

"What sort of justice?" queried King. "Commercial?" He laughed in answer tohis own question. "Criminal? I'd like to think it, gentlemen, but I cannot. You know as well as I do that any of us could this evening go into thestreets, select our victim, and shoot him down secure in the knowledge thatinconvenience is all the punishment we need expect--if we have money orfriends. Am I not right, Coleman?"

Coleman smiled sardonically, lifting his blue-black moustache. 

"Were Herod for the slaughter of the Innocents brought before a jury ofthis town, he would be acquitted, " he said half-seriously. "Judas Iscariotwould pass unscathed so long as any portion of his thirty pieces of silverremained with him. "

They laughed at this remarkable pronouncement, but with an undernote ofseriousness. 

"No man, even exceptionally equipped as this young man seems to be, " wenton Coleman after a moment, "can accomplish _that_"--he snapped his fingers--"against organized forces such as those of 'Law and Order. '"

"We can't stand this sort of thing forever!" cried Hossfros hotly. "It'sgetting worse and worse!"

"We probably shall not stand it forever, " agreed Coleman equably, "but weare powerless--at present. "

They looked toward him for explanation of this last. 

"When the people at large find that _they_ cannot stand it either, then weshall be no longer powerless. A single man can do something then--a singlechild!"

"What will happen then?" asked Munro. "Vigilantes? '51 again?"

Coleman, the leader of the Vigilantes of '51, turned on him a grave eye. 

"God forbid! We were then a frontier community. We are now an organized, civilized city. We have rights and powers through the regular channels--atthe ballot box for example. "

Hossfros laughed skeptically. 

"It must wait, " continued Coleman; "it must wait on public opinion. "

"Well, " spoke up King, "it's all very well to wait, but public opinion leftto itself is a mighty slow growth. It should be fostered. The newspapers--"

"Don't let's lose our sense of humour, " cut in Talbot Ward. "Can you seeCharley Nugent or Mike Rowlee crusading for the right?"

"But my point is good, " insisted King. "An honest, fearless editor, notafraid to call a spade a spade--"

"Would be shot, " said Coleman briefly. 

"The chances of war, " replied King. 

"They don't grow that kind around here, " grinned Ward. 

"Well, " concluded Coleman, "this young Keith probably won't help any, buthe's going to be interesting to watch, just the same, to see what he'll dothe first time they crack the whip over him. That's the vital point as faras he is concerned. "

XXXVI

Keith's activities did not immediately confront him with anything in thenature of a test, however. His superiors confined him to the drawing ofbriefs and the carrying through of carefully selected cases. It wasconsidered well to "work him in" a little before putting responsibility onhim. 

He enjoyed it, for now he had at his call all the civil and policeresources of the city. This gave him a pleasant feeling of power. He was atthe centre of things. And through his office he came into contact withever-widening circles of people, all of whom were disposed, even anxious, to treat him well, to get in his good graces. Possibly most of these werewhat we would call the worst elements; and by that we would mean not onlythe roughnecks of the police or sheriff's offices, but also thepunctilious, smooth-mannered Southerners who practically monopolized thepolitical offices. These men would have been little considered in theSouth; in fact, in many cases, they had left their native states under acloud or even with prison records; but their natural charm, their audacity, and their great punctilio as to "honour" deeply impressed the ordinarycitizen. As one chronicler of the times puts it, they had "fluency inharangue, vigour in invective, ostentatious courage, absolute confidenceabout all matters of morals, politics, and propriety"--which is anexcellent thumbnail sketch. Many of these ex-jailbirds rose to wealth andinfluence, so that to this day the sound of their names means aristocracyand birth to those ignorant of local history. Their descendants may be seento-day ruffling it proudly on the strength of their "birth!"

They, and the classes they directly and indirectly encouraged, had at lastbrought the city fairly on the financial rocks. There was no more revenue. Everything taxable had been taxed. The poll tax was out of all reason;property paid 4 per cent. On an actual valuation; theatres, bankers, brokers, freight, miners, merchants, hotel, keepers, incorporations, everyform of industry was levied upon heavily. Still that was not enough. Evenlabour was paid now in scrip so depreciated that the cost of the simplestpublic works was terrible. 

And to heap up the measure, the year of 1855 was one of financialstringency. The season of '54-'55 had been one of drought. For lack ofwater most of the mining had ceased. The miners wanted to be trusted fortheir daily needs; the country stores had to have credit because the minerscould not pay; and so on up to the wholesalers in the city. Goods weretherefore sold cheap at auction, and the gold went East to pay at thesource. Money, actual physical money, became scarce. The gold was gone, andthere existed no institution legally entitled to issue the paper money thatmight have taken its place. All the banking was done by private firms. These took deposits, made loans, issued exchange, but could not issuebanknotes. 

Still, things had looked a bit squally many times before, but nothing hadhappened. Men had the habit of optimism. No one stopped to analyze thesituation, to realize that the very good reason nothing had happened wasthat the city had always had behind it the strength of the mines, and thatnow the mines had withdrawn. 

Out of a clear sky came the announcement that Adams & Co. Had failed!

At first nobody believed it. Adams & Co. Had occupied in men's minds fromthe start much the same position as the Bank of England. The confirmationof the news caused the wildest panic and excitement. If Adams & Co. Werevulnerable, nobody was secure. Small merchants began to call in theircredits. The city caught up eagerly every item of news. All the assets ofthe bankrupt firm were turned over to Alfred Cohen as receiver. Someinterested people did not trust Cohen. They made enough of a fuss to get H. M. Naglee appointed in Cohen's place. Naglee, demanding the assets, wastold they had been deposited with Palmer, Cook & Co. The latter refused togive them up, denying Naglee's jurisdiction in the matter. The case wasbrought into court. Then suddenly it was found that Palmer, Cook & Co. Hadmysteriously lost their paramount interest in the courts. They had countedon the case being brought before their own judges; but it was cited beforeJudges Hazen and Park, both of whom, while ultra-technical, were honest. The truth of the matter was that the rats suspected Palmer, Cook & Co. Ofsinking, too, and had deserted. Judges Hazen and Park called upon the firmto turn over to Naglee the assets of Adams & Co. They still refused. One ofthe partners, named Jones, and Cohen were imprisoned. Some where $269, 000was missing. Nobody knew anything about it. The books having to do with thetransaction had mysteriously disappeared. Two days later an Irishman foundthem floating in the bay, and brought them to the court. But the crucialpages were missing. And then suddenly, while both Judge Hazen and JudgePark were out of town, application was made to the Supreme Court--of whichJudge Terry was head--for the release of Jones and Cohen. The applicationwas granted. 

So an immense sum of money disappeared; nobody was punished; it was allstrictly legal; and yet the dullest labourer could see that the wholetransaction amounted to robbery under arms. Failures resulted right andleft. Wells Fargo & Co. Closed their doors, but resumed within a few days. A great many pocketbooks were hit. There was much talk and excitement. 

XXXVII

On an evening in October, returning home at an early hour, Keith found Nanindignant and excited. She held in her hand a tiny newspaper, not half theusual size, consisting only of a single sheet folded. 

"Have you seen this?" she burst out as Keith entered. "Isn't itoutrageous!"

Keith was tired, and sank into an easy chair with a sigh of relaxation. 

"No, what is it?" he asked, reaching his hand for the paper. "Oh, the newpaper. I saw them selling it on the street yesterday. "

It was the _Bulletin_, Vol. 1, No. 2. Like all papers of that day, and likesome of the English papers now, its first page was completely covered withsmall advertisements. A thin driblet of short local items occupied a columnon the third and fourth pages, a single column of editorial on the second. 

"Seems a piffling little sheet, " he observed, "to be read in about eightseconds by any one not interested in advertisements. What is it thatagitates you, Nan?"

"Read that. " She pointed to the editorial. 

The article in question proved to be an attack on Palmer, Cook & Co. Itsaid nothing whatever about the Cohen-Naglee robbery. Its subject was theexcessive rentals charged the public by Palmer, Cook & Co. For postalboxes. But it mentioned names, recorded specific instances, avoidedgeneralities, and stated plainly that this was merely beginning at thebeginning in an exposé of the methods of these "Uriah Heeps. "

"Why do they permit such things?" cried Nan, scarcely waiting for Keith tofinish his reading, "What is Mr. Palmer going to do about it?"

"Survive, I guess, " replied Keith, with a grin. "I take back my opinion ofthe paper. It certainly has life. " He turned to the head of the page. "Hullo!" he cried in surprise. "James King of William running this, eh?" Hewhistled, then laughed. "That promises to be interesting, sure. He was inbusiness with that crowd for some time. He ought to have information fromthe inside!"

"Mrs. Palmer is simply furious, " said Nan. 

"I'll bet she is. Are we invited out this evening?"

"The Thurstons' musicale. I thought you'd be interested in that. "

"Let me off, Nan, that's a good fellow, " pleaded Keith, whose weariness hadvanished. "I'd be delighted to go at any other time. But this is too rich. I must see what the gang has to say. "

"I suppose I could drop Ben Sansome a note, " assented Nan doubtfully. 

"Do! Send the Chink around with it, " urged Keith, rising. "I'll get a bitedowntown and not bother you. "

The gang--as indeed the whole city--took it as a great joke. Of those Keithmet, only Jones, the junior partner, failed to see the humour, and hepassed the affair off in cavalier fashion. That did not save him from theobligation of setting up the drinks. 

"I'm going to fix this thing up in the morning, " he stated confidently. "Between you and me, there's evidently been a slip somewhere. Of course itought never to have been allowed to go so far. I'll see this man King firstthing in the morning, and buy him off. Undoubtedly that's about the onlyreason his paper exists. Wonder where he got the money to start it? He'sbusted. It can't last long. "

"If it keeps up the present gait, it'll last, " said Judge Caldwellshrewdly. "Me--I'm going to send in a subscription tomorrow. Wouldn't missit for anything. "

"It'll last as long as he does, " growled Terry, "and that'll be about aslong as a snowball in hell. What you ought to do, Jones, is what any man ofspirit ought to do--call him out!"

"He announces definitely that he won't fight duels, " said Calhoun Bennett. 

"Then treat him like the cowardly hound he is, " flared the uncompromisingTerry. "Take the whip to him; and if that isn't effective, shoot him downas you would any other mad dog!"

"Surely, that's a little extreme, Judge, " expostulated Caldwell. "He hasn'tdone anything worse than stir up Jonesy a little. "

"But he will, sir, " insisted Terry, "you mark my words. If you give himline, he'll not only hang himself, but he'll rope in a lot of bystanders aswell. "

"I'll bet he sells a lot of papers to-morrow, anyhow, " predicted Keith. 

"I hope so, " bragged Jones. "There'll be the more to read his apology. "

Evidently Jones fulfilled his promise, and quite as evidently Keith'sprediction was verified. Every man on the street had a copy of the nextday's _Bulletin_ within twenty minutes of issue. 

A roar of delight went up. Jones's visit was reported simply as an item ofnews, faithfully, sarcastically, and pompously. There was no comment. Eventhe most faithful partisans of Palmer, Cook & Co. Had to grin at theeffectiveness of this new way of meeting the impact of such a visit, "It's clever journalism, " Terry admitted, "but it's blackguardly; and Iblame Jones for passing it over. "

The fourth number--eagerly purchased--proved more interesting because ofits hints of future disclosures rather than for its actual information. Broderick was mentioned by name. The attention of the city marshal wassuccinctly called to the disorderly houses and the statutes concerningthem; and it was added, "for his information, " that at a certain address astructure was actually building at a cost of $30, 000 for improper purposes. Then followed a list of personal bonds and sureties for which Palmer, Cook& Co. Were standing voucher, amounting to over two millions. 

The expectations of disclosures, thus aroused, were not immediatelygratified, except in the case of Broderick. His swindles in the matters ofthe Jenny Lind Theatre and the City Hall were traced out in detail. Everyone knew these things were done, but nobody knew just how; so thesedisclosures made interesting reading if only as food for natural curiosity. However, the tension somewhat relaxed. It was generally considered that thecoarse fibre of the ex-stone-cutter, the old Tammany heeler, and the thickskins of his political adherents could stand this sort of thing. Nobodywith a sensitive honour to protect was assailed. 

The position of the new paper was by now firmly established. It had a largesubscription list; it was eagerly bought on the streets; and itsadvertising was increasing. King again turned his attention to Palmer, Cook& Co. Each day he treated succinctly, clearly, without rhetoric, somebranch of their business. By the time he had finished with them he had notonly exposed their iniquities, he had educated the public to anunderstanding of the financial methods of the times. His tilting at thisbanking firm had inevitably led him to criticism of certain of theirsubterfuges to avoid or take advantage of the law; and that as inevitablybrought him to analysis and condemnation of the firm's legal advisers, James, Doyle, Barber & Boyd, a firm which had heretofore enjoyed a goodreputation. Incidentally he called attention to duelling, venal newspapers, city sales, gambling, Billy Mulligan, Wooley Kearney, Casey, Cora, YankeeSullivan, Martin Gallagher, Tom Cunningham, Ned McGowan, Charles Duane, andmany other worthies, both of high and low degree. Never did he fear to namenames and cite specific instances plainly. James King of William dealt inno innuendoes. He had found in himself the editor he had wished for, theman who would call a spade a spade. 

The _Bulletin_ twice enlarged its form. It sold by the thousand. Its weaponof defence was the same as its weapon of offence--pitiless and completepublicity. Measures of reprisal, either direct or underhand, undertakenagainst him, King published often without comment. 

At the first some of the cooler heads thought it might be well to reasonwith him. 

"The man has run a muck, " said old Judge Girvin, "and while I am far fromdenying that In many--perhaps in most--cases his facts are correct, stillhis methods make for lawlessness among the masses. It might be well to meethim reasonably, and to expostulate. "

"I'd expostulate--with a blacksnake, " growled the fiery Terry. 

A number waited on King. Keith was among them. They found his office in asmall ramshackle frame building, situated in the middle instead ofalongside one of the back streets. It had probably been one of the earlysmall dwelling-houses, marooned by a resurvey of the streets, and neversince moved. King sat in his shirtsleeves before a small flat table. Helooked up at them uncompromisingly from his wide-apart steady eyes. 

"Gentlemen, " he greeted them tentatively. 

Judge Girvin seated himself impressively, his fat legs well apart, hisbeaver hat and cane poised in his left hand; the others, grouped themselvesback of him. The judge stated the moderate case well. "We do not deny anyman the right to his opinion, " he concluded, "but have you reflected on theeffect such an expression often has on the minds of those not trained tocontrol?"

King listened to him in silence. 

"It seems to me, sir, " he answered, when Judge Girvin had quite finished, "that if abuses exist they should be exposed until they are remedied; andthat the remedy should come from the law. "

"What is your impelling motive?" asked the judge. "Why have you so suddenlytaken up this form of activity? Do you feel aggrieved in any way--personally?"

"My motive in starting a newspaper, if that is what you mean, is the plainone of making an honest if modest living. And, incidentally, while doingso, I have some small idea of being of public use. I have no personalgrievance; but I am aggrieved, as every decent man must be, at the way thelawyers, the big financial operators, and the other blackguards have robbedthe city, " stated King plainly. 

Judge Girvin, flushing, arose with dignity, "I wish you good-day, sir, " he said coldly, and at once withdrew. 

Keith had been watching King with the keenly critical, detached, analyticalspeculation of the lawyer. He carried away with him the impression of a maninspired. 

At the engine house, to which the discomfited delegation withdrew, therewas more discussion. 

"The man is within his legal rights so far, " stated Judge Girvin. "If anyof his statements are libellous, it is the duty of the man so libelled toinstitute action in the courts. "

"He's too smooth for that, " growled Jones. 

"He'll bite off more than he can chew, if he keeps on, " said DickBlatchford comfortably. "He's stirring up hornets' nests when he monkeyswith men like Yankee Sullivan. He's about due for an awful scare, one ofthese days, and then he'll be good. "

"Do you know, I don't believe he'll scare, " said Keith suddenly, withconviction. 

XXXVIII

As Keith surmised, intimidation had no effect. In such a city of fire-eaters it was promptly tried. A dozen publically announced that theythirsted for his blood, and intended to have it; and the records of thedozen were of determination and courage in such matters. In the gamblingresorts and on the streets bets were made and pools formed on the probableduration of King's life. He took prompt notice of this fact. Said the_Bulletin's_ editorial column:

 Bets are now being offered, we are told, that the editor of the _Bulletin_ will not be in existence twenty days longer, and the case of Doctor Hogan, of the Vicksburg paper, who was murdered by gamblers of that place, is cited as a warning. Pah! War, then, is the cry, is it? War between the prostitutes and gamblers on one side, and the virtuous and respectable on the other! Be it so, then! Gamblers of San Francisco, you have made your election, and we are ready on our side for the issue!

Keith read this over John Sherwood's shoulder at theMonumental. The ex-gambler, his famous benign spectacles atop his nose, chuckled over it. 

"He doesn't scare for a cent, does he?" was his comment. "Strikes me I gotout of the ranks of the ungodly just in time. If I were still gambling, Ibelieve I'd take some of those bets he speaks of. He won't last--in thistown. But I like his pluck--kind of. Only he's damn bad for business!"

Saying which, John Sherwood, late gambler but now sincerely believinghimself a sound and conservative business man, passed the sheet over toKeith. 

From vague threats the situation developed rapidly to the definite andpersonal. One Selover sent a challenge to King, which was refused. Seloverthen announced his intention of killing King on sight. The _Bulletin_published this:

 Mr. Selover, it is said, carries a knife. We carry a pistol. We hope neither will be required, but if this encounter cannot be avoided, why will Mr. Selover insist on imperilling the lives of others? We pass every afternoon, about half-past four to five o'clock, along Market Street from Fourth to Fifth streets. The road is wide, and not so much frequented as those streets farther in town. If we are to be shot or cut to pieces, for heaven's sake let it be done there. Others will not be injured, and in case we fall, our house is but a few hundred yards beyond, and the cemetery not much farther. 

These detailed attacks and bold defiances had the effect of greatlyangering those who were the specific objects of attention; of making veryuneasy the class to which these victims belonged; of focussing on publicmatters a public sentiment that was just becoming conscious of itselfbecause of the pinch of hard times; and of rendering contemptuouslyindignant all of "higher" society. 

To this latter category Keith would undoubtedly have belonged--as did hiswife and practically all his friends--had it not been for his associationwith Krafft. Through him the young lawyer came into intimate personal touchwith a large class of people who would otherwise have been remote from him. He heard of their difficulties and problems at first hand, saw the actualeffect of abuses that, looked at from above, were abstract or academic. Police brutality as a phrase carried little significance; police brutalityas a clubbing of Malachi Hogan, who was brought in with his skull crushed, and whose blood stained Keith's new coat, meant something. Waste of publicfunds, translated before his eyes into eviction for nonpayment of taxes, took on a new significance. Keith saw plainly that a reform was needed. Hewas not, on that account, in the least sympathetic with King's methods. Like Judge Girvin, he felt them revolutionary and subversive. But he couldnot share the contempt of his class; rather he respected the editor as asincere but mistaken man. When his name came up for discussion or bittervituperation, Keith was silent. He read the _Bulletin_ editorials; andwhile he in no way endorsed their conclusions or recommendations, he couldnot but acknowledge their general accuracy. Without his knowing it, he wasbeing educated. He came to realize the need for better administration bythe city's officers and a better enforcement of the laws. Very quietly, deep down within himself, he made up his mind that in the AssistantDistrict Attorney's office, at least, the old order of things should cease. 

XXXIX

One afternoon Keith walked down Kearney Street deep in discussion of animportant Federal case with his friend, Billy Richardson, the United StatesMarshal. Although both just and an official, Richardson was popular withall classes save those with whom his duty brought him into conflict. Theyfound their way deliberately blocked, and came out of the absorption oftheir discussion to recognize before them Charles Cora, an Italian gamblerof considerable prominence and wealth. Cora was a small, dark man, nervously built, dressed neatly and carefully in the height of gamblerfashion. He seemed to be terribly excited, and at once launched a stream ofoaths at Richardson. 

"What's the matter with you, Charley?" asked the latter, as soon as he hadrecovered from his surprise. 

Cora, evidently too incoherent to speak, leaped at the marshal, his fistdrawn back. Keith seized him around the body, holding his arms to hissides. 

"Hold on; take it easy!" he panted. "What's up, anyway?"

Cora, struggling violently, gritted out:

"He knows damn well what's up. "

"I'll swear I don't!" denied Richardson. 

"Then what do you mean telling every one that my Belle insulted your wifelast night at the opera house?" demanded Cora, ceasing to struggle. 

"Belle?" repeated Richardson equably. "I don't know what you're talkingabout. Be reasonable. Explain yourself. "

"Yes, I got it straight, " insisted the Italian. "Your wife says it insultsher to sit next to my Belle, and you go everywhere telling it. What rightyou got to do that? Answer me that!"

"Now look here, " said Richardson. "I was with Jim Scott all last evening. My wife wasn't with me. If you don't believe me, go ask Scotty. "

Cora had apparently cooled off, so Keith released him. He shook his head, grumbling, only half convinced. After a moment he moved away. The two menwatched him go, half vexed, half amused. 

"He's crazy as a pup about that woman, " observed Richardson. 

"Who is she?" inquired Keith. 

"Why, Belle--you know Belle, the one who keeps that, crib up your way. "

"That woman!" marvelled Keith. 

He spent the afternoon in court and in his office. About half-past six, onhis way home, he saw Cora and Richardson come out of the Blue Wing saloontogether. They were talking earnestly, and stopped in the square of lightfrom the window. Richardson was explaining, and Cora was listeningsullenly. As Keith passed them he heard, the marshal say, "Well, is it allright?" and Cora reply, "Yes. " Something caused him to look back after hehad gone a dozen yards. He saw Cora suddenly seize Richardson's collar withhis left hand, at the same time drawing a derringer with his right. 

"What are you going to do?" cried Richardson loudly and steadily, withoutstraggling, "Don't shoot; I am unarmed!"

Without reply Cora fired into his breast. The marshal wilted, but with ironstrength Cora continued for several moments to hold up his victim by thecollar. Then he let the body drop, and moved away at a fast walk, thederringer still in his right hand. 

Keith ran to his friend, and with others carried him into a nearby drugstore. The sound of the shot almost immediately brought out a crowd. Keith, bending over the body of the murdered man, could see them pressing aboutthe windows outside, their faces showing white from the lamps in the drug-store window or fading into the darkness beyond. They crowded through thedoorway until driven out again by some of the cooler heads. Conjectures andinquiries flew thick. All sorts of reports were current of the details, butthe crowd had the main facts--Cora had shot Richardson, Richardson wasdead, Cora had been taken to jail. 

"Then he's safe!" they sneered savagely. 

Men had been shot on the streets before, many men, some of them as wellknown and liked as Richardson; but not after public sentiment had beenaroused as the _Bulletin_ had aroused it. The crowds continued to gather. Several men made violent street-corner speeches. There was some talk oflynching. A storm of yes and no burst forth when the question was put. Bells rang. A great mob surged to the jail, were firmly met by a strongarmed guard, and fell back muttering. 

"Who will be the next victim?" men asked. "What a farce!" cried some, indeep disgust. "Why, the jailer is Cora's especial crony!" stated others, who seemed to know. "If the jury is packed, hang the jury!" advised certainfar-seeing ones. A grim, quiet, black-bearded man expressed theundercurrent of opinion: "Mark my words, " said he, "if Charles Cora is leftfor trial, he will be let loose on the community to assassinate his thirdvictim!" It seemed that Cora had been involved in a previous shootingscrape. But to swing a mob to action there must be determined men at itshead, and this mob had no leaders. Sam Brannan started to say something inhis coarse, roaring voice, and was promptly arrested for inciting a riot. Nobody cared enough seriously for the redoubtable Sam to object to this. The situation was ticklish, but the police handled it tactfully for once, opposing only a passive opposition, leaving the crowd to fritter itsenergies in purposeless cursing, surging to and fro, and in harmlessthreats. 

Keith did not join the throngs on the streets. Having determined thatRichardson was dead, he accompanied the body home. He was deeply stirred, not only by the circumstances of the murder, but also by the scene at whichhe had to assist when the news must be broken to Mrs. Richardson. From thehouse he went directly to King's residence, where he was told that theeditor had gone downtown. After considerable search and inquiry he at lastgot sight of his man standing atop a wooden awning overlooking the Plaza infront of the jail. King nodded to him as he climbed out of the second-storywindow to take his position at the newspaper man's side. 

The square was a wild sight, filled, packed with men, a crowd of men tossedin constant motion. A mumbling growl came from them continuously, andoccasionally a shout. Many hands were upraised, and in some of them wereweapons. Opposite, the blank front of the jail. 

King's eyes were shining with interest and a certain quiet exultation, buthe seemed not at all excited. 

"Will they storm the jail?" asked Keith. 

King shook his head. 

"No, these people will do nothing. But they show the spirit of the time. All it needs now is organization, cool, deliberate organization--to-morrow. "

"That's just what I've hunted you out to talk about, " said Keith earnestly. "There is much talk of a Vigilance Committee. As you say, all it needs isthe call. That means lawlessness, bloodshed. "

"Conditions at present are intolerable, " said King briefly. 

"I agree with you, " replied Keith. King stared. "But in this case I assureyou the law will do its duty. It is an absolutely open and shut case. Acquittal is impossible. Why, I myself was witness of the affair. "

King looked skeptical. 

"Hundreds of such cases have been acquitted, or the indictment quashed. "

"But this is entirely different. In the first place, the case will comebefore Judge Norton and Judge Hazen, both of whom you will acknowledge arehonest. In the second place, this case will be in my hands as AssistantDistrict Attorney. I myself shall do the prosecuting, and I promise you onmy honour that every effort will be made for a deserved and speedyconviction. I acknowledge justice has sometimes gone wrong in the past; butthat has not been the fault of the law, but of the administration of thelaw. If you have the least confidence in Judge Norton and Judge Hazen, andif you can be brought to believe me, you will see that this one case of allcases should not be taken from the constituted authorities or made thebasis for a movement outside the law. "

"Well?" said King, half convinced. 

"The _Bulletin_ has the greatest influence with these people. Use it. Givethe law, the honest law, a chance. Do not get back of any Vigilantemovement. In that way, I am convinced, you will be of the greatest publicservice. "

Next day the _Bulletin_ came out vigorously counselling dependence on thelaw, expressing confidence in the integrity of Hazen and Norton, andenunciating a personal belief that the day had passed when it would benecessary to resort to arbitrary measures. The mob's anger had possessedvitality enough to keep it up all night; but the attitude of the_Bulletin_, backed by responsible men like Ward, Coleman, Hossiros, Bluxome, and others, averted a crisis. Nevertheless, King added a paragraphof warning:

Hang Billy Mulligan! That's the word! If Mr. Sheriff Scannell does notremove Billy Mulligan from his present post as keeper of the county jail, and Mulligan lets Cora escape, hang Billy Mulligan, and if necessary to getrid of the sheriff, hang him--hang the sheriff!

XL

The popular excitement gradually died. It had no leaders. Coleman and menof his stamp, who had taken command of similar crises in former times, counselled moderation. They were influenced, partly by the fact thatRichardson had been a public official and a popular one. Conviction seemedcertain. 

Keith applied himself heart and soul to the case. Its preparation seemed tohim, at first an easy matter. It was open and shut. Although at the momentof the murder the street had not been crowded, a half-dozen eye-witnessesof the actual shooting were easily found, willing to testify to theessential facts. No defence seemed possible, but Cora remained undisturbed. He had retained one of the most brilliant lawyers of the time, JamesMcDougall. This fact in itself might have warned Keith, for McDougall hadthe reputation of avoiding lost causes and empty purses. The lawyerpromptly took as counsel the most brilliant of the younger men, Jimmy Ware, Allyn Lane, and Keith's friend, Calhoun Bennett. This meant money, andplenty of it, for all of these were expensive men. The exact source of themoney was uncertain; but it was known that Belle was advancing liberallyfor her lover, and that James Casey, bound by some mysterious obligation, was active in taking up collections. Cora lived in great luxury at thejail. He had long been a personal friend of Sheriff Webb and his firstdeputy, Billy Mulligan. 

Several months passed before the case could be forced to trial. All sortsof legal and technical expedients were used to defer action. McDougall andhis legal assistants were skilful players at the game, and the points theyadvanced had to be fought out according to the rules, each a separatelittle case with plenty of its own technicalities. Some of Keith'switnesses were difficult to hold; they had business elsewhere, andnaturally resented being compelled, through no fault of their own, toremain. Keith had always looked on this play of legal rapiers as a part--aninteresting part--of the game; but heretofore he had always been on theobstructing side. He worried a great deal. At length, by superhumanefforts, he broke through the thicket of technicalities and brought thematter to an issue. The day was set. He returned home so relieved in spiritthat Nan could not but remark on his buoyancy. 

"Yes, " he responded, "I've managed to drive that old rascal, McDougall, into the open at last. "

Nan caught at the epithet. 

"But you don't mean that--quite--do you?" she asked. "The McDougalls aresuch delightful people. "

"No, of course not. Just law talk, " said Keith, quite sincerely. "He'shandled his case well up to now. I'm just exasperated on that account, that's all. "

But setting the day irrevocably was only a beginning. The jury had to beselected. Sheriff Webb had in his hands the calling of the venire. While itwas true that the old-time, "professional jurymen"--men who hung around thecourthouse for no other purpose--were no longer in existence, it can bereadily seen that Webb was able, if it were worth while, to exercise ajudicious eye in the selection of "amenables. " The early exhaustion ofKeith's quota of peremptory challenges was significant, for McDougallrarely found it desirable to challenge at all! Keith displayed tremendousresource in last-moment detective work concerning the records of the panel. In this way he was enabled to challenge several for cause, after all hisperemptory challenges had been used. At first he had great difficulty ingetting results, for the police detectives proved supine. It was only afterhe had hired private agents, paying for them from his own pocket, that heobtained information on which he could act. The final result was a jurybetter than he had dared hope for, but worse than he desired. He had gonethrough a tremendous labour, and realized fully the difference betweenbeing for or against the powers. 

The case came to trial, Keith presented six witnesses--respectable, one ofthem well-known. These testified to the same simple facts, and theirtestimony remained unshaken under cross-examination. McDougall offered theplea of self-defence. He brought a cloud of witnesses to swear that Corahad drawn his weapon only after Richardson had produced and cocked apistol. By skilful technical delays Keith gained time for his detectives, and succeeded in showing that two of these witnesses had been elsewhere atthe time of the killing, and therefore had perjured themselves. He recalledhis own witnesses, and found two willing to swear that Richardson's handshad been empty and hanging at his sides, The defence did not trouble tocross-examine this statement. 

At last, with a perfunctory judicial charge, the case went to the jury. Keith, weary to the bone, sat back in grateful relaxation. He had workedhard, against odds, and had done a good job. He was willing now to spare alittle professional admiration for McDougall's skilful legal manoeuvring. There could be no earthly doubt of the result. He idly watched the bigbland-faced clock, with its long second hand moving forward by spacedjerks. The jury was out a very long time for so simple a verdict, but thatwas a habit of California juries. It did not worry Keith. He was glad torest. The judge stared at the ceiling, his hands clasped over his stomach. Cora's lawyers talked together in a low voice. Flies buzzed against dustywindow-panes. The spectators watched apathetically. Belle, in a ravishingtoilet, was there. 

The opening of the door broke the spell almost rudely. Keith sat up, listening to the formal questions and answers. They had disagreed!

For a moment the import of this did not penetrate to Keith's understanding. Then he half rose, shouted "What!" and sank back stunned. His brain was inconfusion. Only dimly did he hear the judge dismissing the jury, remandingCora for retrial, adjourning court. Instantly Cora was surrounded by acongratulatory crowd. Keith sat alone. McDougall, gathering up his papersfrom the table assigned to counsel, made some facetious remark. Keith didnot reply. McDougall looked at him sharply, and as he went out he remarkedto Casey:

"Keith takes this hard. "

"He does!" cried Casey, genuinely astonished. "They were trying to tell mehe was altogether too active in this matter; but I told them he was youngand had his way to make, and was playing to the gallery. "

He sauntered across the room. 

"Well, Milt, " he cried in a jovial voice, but watching the young lawyernarrowly, "the Lord's on the side of true virtue, as usual. "

Keith came to himself, scowled, started to say something, but refrainedwith an obvious effort. 

Casey wandered back to McDougall. 

"You're right, Mac, " he said. "I guess he's got the swell head. We'll haveto call him off gently, or he'll make a nuisance of himself at the nexttrial. He makes altogether too much trouble. "

But McDougall was tolerant. 

"Oh, let him alone, Jim. He's got his way to make. Let him alone. We canhandle the situation. "

XLI

Keith left the courtroom in a daze of incredulity. This was his firstserious defeat; and he could not understand it. The case was absolutelyopen and shut, a mere question of fact to which there were sufficient andcompetent witnesses. For the moment he was completely routed. 

As he emerged to the busy crowds on Kearney Street a sudden repugnance tomeeting acquaintances overcame him. He turned off toward the bay, makinghis way by the back streets, alleys, and slums of that unsavoury quarter. But even here he was not to escape. He had not gone two blocks before hedescried Krafft's slight and elegant figure sauntering toward him. Keithbraced himself for the inevitable question. 

"Well, " it came, "how goes the trial?"

The words released Keith's pent flood of bitterness. Here was an outlet;Krafft was "safe. " He poured out his disappointment, his suspicion, hisindignation. The little man listened to him in silence, a slight smile, sketching his full, red lips. When Keith had somewhat run down, Krafft, without a word, took him by the arm and led him by devious ways down to thewater-front portion of the city. There he planted him near the entrance ofa dark alley. 

"Now you wait here, " Keith was told. 

Keith obeyed. The interval was long, but he had much to occupy his mind. After a time Krafft returned in company with a slouching, drink-soddenbummer of powerful build and lowering mien, the remains of a forcefulpersonality. This individual shambled along in the wake of the dapperlittle Krafft quite meekly and submissively. 

"Here you are, " said the latter briskly, and with a sort of nonchalantauthority. "Come, now, Mex, tell Mr, Keith what you know about the Coratrial. Go on!" he urged, as the man hesitated. "He's not going to 'use'you--he doesn't even know who you are or where you're to be found, and I'mnot going to tell him. Speak up, Mex! I tell you I want him to know howthings stand. "

Keith by now was acquainted with many of Krafft's protégés, but he hadnever met the delectable Mex. Evidently the latter had long known Krafft, however, for he acknowledged his authority unquestioningly. 

"It's like this, boss, " he began in a hoarse voice. "You don't know me, like Mr. Krafft says, but there's plenty that do. I got a lot of inflooncedown here, and when anybody wants anything they know where to come to getit, which is right to headquarters--here, " he slapped his great chest. 

"Get on, " interrupted Krafft impatiently. "We'll take it for granted thatyou are a great man. "

Mex looked at him reproachfully, but went on:

"About this Cora trial: they come to me for good, reliable witnesses, and Igot 'em, and drilled 'em. There ain't nobody in it with me for making anywitness watertight. "

"How many witnesses?" prompted Krafft. 

"Eight, " replied Mex promptly. 

"How much?"

"Well, they give me five thousand fer to git the job done, " admitted Mex, with some reluctance. 

"Hope they got some of it, " commented Krafft. 

"Who gave you the money?" demanded Keith. 

But Krafft interposed. 

"Hold on, my son, that isn't ethics at all! You mustn't ask questions likethat, must he, Mex? Very bad form!" He turned to Keith with a crisp air ofdecision. "That's what was the matter with your trial; I just thought I'dshow you. Go on, Mex, get out, " he commanded that individual, good-humouredly. "I'm not particularly proud of you, but I suppose I've got tostand you. Only remember this: Mr. Keith is my friend. Swear him out of thehigh seats of heaven--if you can--because that's the nature of you; but lethim walk safely. In other words, no strong-arm work; do you understand?"

The man mumbled and growled something. 

"Nonsense, Mex, " interrupted Krafft sharply. "Do as I say. 

"It's a matter of a tidy sum, " blurted out Mex at last. 

Krafft laughed. 

"You see, you were already marked for the slaughter, " he told Keith; thento Mex:

"Well, you let him alone; he's my friend. "

"All right, if you say so, " growled the man. 

"You're safe--as far as Mex and all his people are concerned, " said Krafftto Keith. "Our word is always good, when given to a friend; isn't it, Mex?"

The man nodded, awkwardly and slouched away. 

Keith's depression had given place to anger. He had been beaten by unfairmeans; his opponent had cheated at the game, and his opponent enjoyed therespect of the community as a high-minded, able, dignified member of thebar. It was unthinkable! A man caught cheating at cards would mostcertainly be expelled from any decent club. 

"I'll disbar that man if it's the last act of my life!" He cried, "He's notfit to practise among decent men!"

He left Krafft standing on the corner and smiling quietly, and hurried backto his office. 

XLII

It was unfortunate for everybody that Morrell should have chosen thatparticular afternoon to pay one of his periodical calls. Morrell had beentactful and judicious in his demands. Keith was not particularly afraid ofhis story or the effect of it if told, but he disliked intensely the fussand bother of explanations and readjustments. It had seemed easier to letthings drift along. The transactions were skilfully veiled, notes werealways given, Morrell was shrewd enough to take care that it did not costtoo much. There existed not the slightest cordiality between the men, but atacit assumption of civil relations. 

But this afternoon the sight of Morrell, seated with what seemed to Keith asmug, superior, supercilious confidence in the best of the office chairs, was more than Keith could stand. He was bursting with anger at the world ingeneral. 

"You here?" he barked at Morrell, without waiting for a greeting. "Well, I'm sick of you! Get out!"

Morrell stared at him dumbfounded. 

"I don't believe I understand, " he objected. 

"Get out! Get out! Get out! Is that plain enough?" shouted Keith. 

Morrell arose with cold dignity. 

"I cannot permit--" he began. 

Keith turned on him abruptly. 

"Look here, don't try to come that rot. I said, get out--and I mean it!"

So menacing was his aspect that Morrell drew back toward the door. 

"I suppose you know what this means?" he threatened, an ugly note in hisquiet voice. 

"I don't give a damn what it means, " rejoined Keith with deadlyearnestness, "and if you don't get out of here I'll throw you out!"

Morrell went hastily. 

Keith slammed his papers into a drawer, locked it and his office door, andwent directly to the office of the _Bulletin_. There, seated in all thechairs, perched on the tables and window ledges, he found a representativegroup. He recognized most of them, including James King of William, Coleman, Hossfros, Isaac Bluxome, Talbot Ward, and others. A dead silencegreeted his appearance. He stopped by the door. 

"You have, of course, heard the news, " he said. "I have come here to stateunequivocally, and for publication, that the Cora trial will be pushed asrapidly and as strongly as is in the power of the District Attorney'soffice. And if legal evidence of corruption can be obtained, proceedingswill at once be inaugurated to indict the bribe givers. "

A short silence followed this speech. Several men looked toward oneanother. The tension appeared to relax a trifle. 

"I am glad to hear this, sir, from your own lips, " at last said Colemanformally, "and I wish you every success. "

Another short and rather embarrassed silence fell. 

"I should like to state privately to you gentlemen, and not forpublication"--Keith, paused and glanced toward King, who noddedreassuringly--"that I have evidence, but unfortunately not legal, thatJames McDougall has been guilty, either personally or through agents, ofbribery and corruption; and it is my intention to undertake his disbarmentif I can possibly get proper evidence. "

"Whether he bribed or didn't bribe, he knew perfectly well that Cora wasguilty, " stated King positively. "And he had no right to take the case. "

But at that period this was an extreme view, as it still is in the legalmind. 

"I suppose every man has a moral right to a defence, " said Colemandoubtfully. "If every lawyer should refuse to take Cora's case, as you sayMcDougall should have refused, why the man would have gone undefended!"

"That's all right, " returned King, undaunted, "He ought to have a lawyer--appointed by the court--to see merely that he gets a fair trial; not alawyer--hired, prostituted, at a great price--to try by every technicalmeans to get him off. "

"A lawyer must, by the ethics of his profession, take every case broughthim, I suppose, " some one enunciated the ancient doctrine. 

"Well, if that is the case, " rejoined King hotly, "the law warps thethinking and the morals of any man who professes it. And if I had a son toplace in life, I most certainly should not put him in a calling thatdeliberately trains his mind to see things that way!"

"I am sorry you have so low an opinion, " spoke up Keith from the doorway. "I am afraid I must hold the contrary as to the nobility of my chosenprofession. It can be disgraced, I admit. That it has been disgraced, Iagree. That it can be redeemed, I am going to prove. "

He bowed and left the office. 

XLIII

Morrell went directly from Keith's office to Keith's house. He was notparticularly angry; for some time he had expected just this result, butsince he had threatened, he intended to accomplish. Finding Nan Keith athome, he plunged directly at the subject in his most direct and Englishfashion. She listened to him steadily until he had finished. 

"Is that all?" she then asked him quietly, "That's all, " he acknowledged. 

She arose. 

"Then I will say, Mr. Morrell, that I do not believe you. I know my husbandthoroughly, and I am beginning to know you. I believe that is my onlycomment. Good afternoon. "

He made a half attempt to point to her the way to corroborative evidence, but she swept this superbly aside, Finally he took his correct leave, halfangry, half amused, wholly cynical, for to his mind the reason for herindifference to the news he brought lay in what he supposed to be herrelations with Ben Sansome. 

"Bally ass!" he apostrophized himself. "Might have known how she'd takeit. "

His reading of Nan's motives was, of course, incorrect. Her first feelingwas merely a white heat of anger against Morrell, whom she had never liked. Perhaps after a little this emotion might have carried over into, notdistrust, but an uneasiness as to the main issue; but before she hadarrived at this point Keith came in to deliver an ill-timed warning. As illluck would have it, and as such coincidences often come about in the mostperverse fashion, Keith had, down the street, met some malicious fool whohad dropped a laughing remark about Sansome. It was nothing in itself. Ordinarily, Keith would have paid no attention to it. To-day it clashedwith his mood. Even now his jealousy was not stirred in the least, but hissense of appearances was irritated. By the time he had reached home he hadworked up a proper indignation. 

"Look here, Nan, " he blurted out as soon as he had closed the door behindhim, "you're seeing too much of Sansome. Everybody's talking. "

"Who is everybody?" she asked very quietly. 

"Of course I know it's all right, " he blundered ahead tactlessly--the gleamin her eye should have warned him that he might have omitted thatreassurance--"but just the looks of the thing. And he's such a weak andwishy-washy little nonentity!"

Her sense of justice aroused by this, she sprang to the defence of Sansome. 

"You are quite mistaken there, " she said with dignity. "Men of that typeare never understood by men of yours. He is my friend--and yours. And hehas been very kind to both of us. "

"Well, just the same, you ought not to get yourself talked about, " repeatedKeith stubbornly. 

"Do you distrust me?" she demanded. 

"Heavens, no! But you don't realize how it looks to others. He's cominghere morning, noon, and night. "

"It seems to me I may be the best judge of my own conduct. "

"Well, " said Keith deliberately, "I don't know that you are. You mustremember that you are my wife, and that you bear my name. I have somethingto say about it. I'm telling you; but if you cannot manage the matterproperly, I'll just have to drop a hint to Sansome. "

At that she blazed out. 

"Do that and you will regret it to the last day of your life!" she flared. "If you'd be as careful with the name of Keith as I am, it would notsuffer!"

"What do you mean by that?" he asked? after a blank pause. 

She had not intended to use that weapon, but now she persisted placidly. 

"I mean that if our name has been talked about, it has not been because ofany action of mine. "

His heart was beating wildly. In the multiplicity of fighting interests hehad actually forgotten (for the moment) all about his office visitor. Buthe, too, had pluck. 

"I see you have had a call from our friend Morrell, " he ventured. 

"Well!" she challenged. 

Her head was back, and her breath was short. This crisis had come upon themswiftly, unexpectedly, unwanted by either. Now it loomed over them in aterrible, because unknown, portent. Each realized that a misstep might meanirreparable consequences, but each felt constrained to go on. The situationmust now be developed. Keith, faced with this new problem, lost his heat, and became cool, careful, wary, as when in court his faculties marshalledthemselves. Nan, on the other hand, while well in control of her mind, poised on a brink. 

"I don't know what he told you, " said Keith, the blood suffusing his faceand spreading over his ears and neck, "but I'm going to tell you everythinghe would be justified in telling you. One evening a number of years ago, incompany with a crowd, I went inside the doors of a disreputable place, andimmediately came out again. It was part of a spree, and harmless. That wasall there was to it. You believe me?" In spite of his iron control, a deepnote of anxiety vibrated in his voice as he proffered the question. 

Her heart gave a leap for pride as he made this confession, his face veryred, but his head back, She knew he spoke the truth, the whole truth. 

"Of course I believe you, " she said, trying to speak naturally, but with amad impulse to laugh or cry. She swallowed, gripped her nerves, and wenton. "But, naturally, " she told him, "I consider myself as good a custodian of the family reputation asyourself. "

There the matter rested. By mutual but tacit consent they withdrewcautiously from the debated ground, each curiously haunted by a feelingthat catastrophe had been fortunately and narrowly averted. 

XLIV

Keith immediately moved for a retrial, and began anew his heartbreakinglabours in forcing a way to definite action through the thorn thicket oftechnicalities. At the same time, on his own account, and very secretly, hecommenced a search for evidence against the attorneys for the defence. Bynow he possessed certain private agents of his own whom he consideredtrustworthy. 

Early in his investigations he abandoned hope of getting direct evidenceagainst McDougall himself. That astute lawyer had been careful to havenothing whatever to do with actual bribery or corruption, and he was craftyenough to disassociate himself from direct dealing with agents. Indeed, Keith himself was in some slight doubt as to whether McDougall had anyactual detailed knowledge of the underground workings at all. ButMcDougall's. Associates were a different matter. Here, little by little, real evidence began to accumulate, until Keith felt that he could, withreasonable excuse, move for an official investigation. To his genuine griefCalhoun Bennett seemed to be heavily involved. He could not forget that theyoung Southerner had been one of his earliest friends in the city, nor hadhe ever tried to forget the real liking he had felt for him. It was notdifficult to recognize that according to his code Cal Bennett had merelyplayed the game as the game was played, carrying out zealously theintentions of his superiors, availing himself of time-honoured methods, wholeheartedly fighting for his own side. Yet there could be no doubt thathe had made himself criminally liable. Keith brooded much over thesituation, but got nowhere, and so resolutely pushed it into the back ofhis mind in favour of the need of the moment. 

But quietly as he conducted his investigations, some rumour of themescaped. One afternoon he received a call from Bennett. The young man wasevidently a little embarrassed, but intent on getting at the matter. 

"Look heah, Keith, " he began, dropping into a chair, and leaning both armson the table opposite Keith, "I don't want to say anything offensive, ormake any disagreeable implications, or insult you by false suspicions, butthere are various persistent rumours about, and I thought I'd better cometo you direct. "

"Fire away, Cal, " said Keith. 

"Well, it's just this: they do say yo're tryin' to fasten a criminal chargeof bribery on me. You and I have been friends--and still are, I hope--butif yo're goin' gunnin' foh me, I want to know it. "

His face was slightly flushed, but his fine dark eyes looked hopefully tohis friend for denial. Keith was genuinely distressed. He moved an inkwellto and fro, and did not look up; but his voice was steady and determined ashe replied:

"I'm not gunning for you, Cal, and I wish to heaven you weren't mixed up inthis mess. " He looked up. "But I _am_ gunning for crooked work in this Coracase!"

Bennett took his arms from the table, and sat erect. 

"Do you mean to imply, suh, that I am guilty of crooked work?" he inquired, a new edge of formality in his voice. 

"No, no, of course not!" hastened Keith. "I hadn't thought of you in thatconnection! I am just looking the whole matter up----"

"Well, suh, I strongly advise you to drop it, " interrupted Bennett curtly. 

"But why?"

"It isn't ethical. You will find great resentment among yo' colleagues ofthe bar at the implication conveyed by yo' so-called investigation, suh. "

Calhoun Bennett had become stiff and formal. Keith still tried desperatelyto be reasonable and conciliatory. 

"But if there proves to be nothing out of the way, " he urged, "surely noone could have anything to fear or object to. "

"Nobody has anything to fear in any case, " said Bennett, "but anygentleman--and I, most decidedly--would object to the implication. "

At this Keith, stiffened a little in his turn. 

"I am sorry we differ on that point, I have good reason to believe therehas been crooked work somewhere in this Cora trial. I do not know who hasdone it; I accuse nobody; but in the public office I hold it seems my plainduty to investigate. "

"Yo' public duty is to prosecute, that is all, " argued Bennett. "It is theduty of the grand jury to investigate or to order investigations. "

Here spoke the spirit of the law, for technically Bennett was correct. 

"Whatever the rigid interpretation"--Keith found himself uttering heresy--"I still feel it my duty to deal personally with whatever seems to meunjustly to interfere with, proper convictions. " Then he stopped, aghast atthe tremendous step he had taken. For to a man trained as was Keith, in atime when all men were created for the law, and not the law for men, in asociety where the lawyer was considered the greatest citizen, and subtletechnicality paramount to justice or commonsense, this was a tremendousstep. At that moment, and by that spontaneous and unconsidered statement, Keith, unknown to himself, passed from one side to the other in the greatsocial struggle that was impending. 

"I wa'n you, suh, " Bennett was repeating, "yo' course will not meet withthe approval of the members of the bar. "

"I am sorry, Cal, " said Keith sadly. 

Bennett rose, bowed stiffly, and turned to the door. But suddenly hewhirled back, his face alight with feeling, "Oh, see heah, Milt, be sensible!" he cried. "I know just how yo're feelin'now. Yo're sore, and I don't blame you. You put ap a hard fight, and thoughyou got licked, I don't mind tellin' you that the whole bar appreciatesyo're brilliant work. You must remember you had to play a lone hand againstpretty big men--the biggest we've got! We all appreciate the odds. Cora haslots of friends. You'll never convict him, Milt; but go in again foranother trial, if it will do yo're feelin's any good, with our best wishes. Only don't let gettin' licked make you so sore! Don't go buttin' yo're haidat yo're friends! Be a spo't!"

A half hour ago this appeal might have gained a response if not a practicaleffect, but the spiritual transformation in Keith was complete. 

"I'm sorry, " he replied simply, "but I must go ahead in my own way. "

Calhoun Bennett's face lost its glow, and his tall figure stiffened. 

"I must wa'n you not to bring my name into this, " said he. "I do not intendto have my reputation sacrificed to yo' strait-laced Yankee conscience. Ifmy name is ever mentioned, I shall hold you responsible, _personally_responsible. You understand, suh?"

He stood stiff and straight, staring at Keith. Keith did not stir. After amoment Calhoun Bennett went out. 

XLV

After this interview Keith experienced a marked and formal coldness fromnearly all of his old associates, Those with whom he came into directpersonal contact showed him scrupulous politeness, but confined theirconversation to the briefest necessary words, and quit him as soon aspossible. He found himself very much alone, for at this period he had lostthe confidence of one faction and had not yet gained that of the other. 

His investigations encountered always increasing difficulties. In his owndepartment he could obtain little assistance. A dead inertia opposed allhis efforts. Nevertheless, he went ahead doggedly, using Krafft and some ofKrafft's protégés to considerable effect. 

But soon pressure was brought on him from a new direction: his opponentsstruck at him through his home. 

For some days Nan had been aware of a changed atmosphere in the society shefrequented and had heretofore led. The change was subtle, defied analysis, but was to the woman's sensitive instincts indubitable. At first she hadbeen inclined to consider it subjective, to imagine that something wrongwith herself must be projecting itself through her imagination; but finallyshe realized that the impression was well based. In people's attitude therewas nothing overt; it was rather a withdrawl of intimacy, a puzzling touchof formality. She seemed overnight to have lost in popularity. 

Truth to tell, she paid little attention to this. By now she wasexperienced enough in human nature to understand and to be able to gaugethe slight fluctuations, the ebbs and flows of esteem, the kaleidoscopicshiftings and realignments of the elements of frivolous and formal society. Mrs. Brown had hired away Mrs. Smith's best servant; for an hour theylooked askance on Mrs. Brown; then, the episode forgotten, Mrs. Brown'scork bobbed to the surface company of all the other corks. It was verytrivial. Besides, just at this moment, Nan was wholly occupied withpreparations for her first "afternoon" of the year. She intended as usualto give three of these formal affairs, and from them the season took itstone. The list was necessarily far from exclusive, but Nan made up for thatby the care she gave her most original arrangements. She prided herself ondoing things simply, but with a difference, calling heavily on herresources of correspondence, her memory, and her very good imagination forsome novelty of food or entertainment. At the first of these receptions, too, she wore always for the first time some new and marvellous toiletstraight from Paris, the style of which had not been shown to even her mostintimate friends. This year, for example, she had done the most obviousand, therefore, the most unlikely thing: she had turned to thecontemporaneous Spanish for her theme. Nobody had thought of that. TheColonial, the Moorish, the German, the Russian, the Hungarian--all the restof the individual or "picturesque"--but nobody had thought to look nextdoor. Nan had decorated the rooms with yellow and red, hung the walls withriatas, strings of red peppers and the like, obtained Spanish guitarplayers, and added enough fiery Mexican dishes to the more digestiblerefreshments to emphasize the Spanish flavour. She wore a dress of goldensatin, a wreath of coral flowers about her hair, and morocco slippersmatched in hue. 

The afternoon was fine. People were slow in coming. A few of thenondescripts that must be invited on such occasions put in an appearance, responded hastily to their hostess's greeting, and wandered about furtivelybut interminably. Patricia Sherwood, who had come early, circulated nobly, trying to break up the frozen little groups, but in vain. The time passed. More non-descripts--and not a soul else! As five o'clock neared, a coldfear clutched at Nan's heart. No one was coming!

She worked hard to cover with light graciousness the cold-hearted dismaythat filled her breast as the party dragged its weary length away. All herelaborate preparations and decorations seemed to mock her. The Spanishorchestra tinkled away gayly until she felt she could throw something atthem; the caterer's servants served solemnly the awed nondescripts. Nan'scheeks burned and her throat choked with unshed tears. She could not bearto look at Patsy Sherwood, who remained tactfully distant. 

About five-thirty the door opened to admit a little group, at the sight ofwhom Nan uttered a short, hysterical chuckle. Then she glided to meet them, both hands outstretched in welcome, Mrs. Sherwood watched her withadmiration. Nan was game. 

There were three in the party: Mrs. Morrell, Sally Warner, and Mrs. Scattergood. Sally Warner was of the gushing type of tall, ratherdesiccated femininity who always knows you so much better than you knowher, who cultivates you every moment for a week and forgets you for monthson end, who is hard up and worldly and therefore calculating, whose job isto amuse people and who will therefore sacrifice her best, perhaps not mostuseful, friend to an epigram, whose wit is barbed, who has a fine nose fortrouble, and who is always in at the death. Mrs. Scattergood was a smallblond woman, high voiced, precise in manner, very positive in herstatements which she delivered in a drawling tone, humourless, inquisitiveabout petty affairs, the sort of "good woman" with whom no fault can befound, but who drives men to crime. Mrs. Morrell we know. 

These three, after greeting their hostess gushingly, circulated compactly, talking to each other in low voices. Nan knew they were watching her, andthat they had come for the sole purpose of getting first-hand details ofher fiasco for later recounting in drawing-rooms where, undoubtedly, evennow awaited eager auditors. She came to a decision. The matter could not beworse. When, the three came to make their farewells, she detained them. 

"No, I'm not going to let you go yet, " she told them, perhaps a littleimperiously. "I haven't had half a visit with you. Wait until this rabbleclears out. "

She hesitated a moment over Mrs. Sherwood, but finally let her go withoutprotest. When the last guest had departed she sank into a chair. As she wasalready on the verge of hysterics, she easily kept up an air of gayety. 

"Girls, what an awful party!" she cried. "I could tear my hair! It was aperfect nightmare. " Struggling to control her voice and keep back hertears, she added abruptly: "Now tell me what it is all about. "

Mrs. Morrell and Sally Warner were plainly uneasy and at a loss how to meetthis situation, but Mrs. Scattergood remained quite composed in her small, compact way. 

"What's what all about, Nan, dear?" asked Sally Warner in her mostvivacious manner. She keenly felt the dramatic situation and was alreadyvisualizing herself in the role of raconteuse. 

"You know perfectly well. Why this funeral? Where are they all? Why didthey stay away? I have a right to know. "

"I'm sure there's nothing _I_ can think of!" replied Sally artificially. "The idea!"

But Mrs. Scattergood, with all the relish of performing a noble anddisagreeable duty, broke in:

"You know, dear, " she said in her didactic, slow voice, "as well as we do, what the world is. Of course _we_ understand, but people will talk!"

"In heaven's name what are you driving at? What are they talking about?"demanded Nan, as Mrs. Scattergood apparently came to a full stop. 

A pause ensued while Sally and Mrs, Scattergood exchanged glances with Mrs. Morrell. 

"Well, " at last said Sally, judicially, buttoning her glove, her head onone side, "if I had a nice husband like yours, I wouldn't let him runaround getting himself disliked for nothing. "

"You ought to use your influence with him before it is too late, " addedMrs. Morrell. 

Nan looked helplessly from one to the other, too uncertain of her groundnow to risk another step, "So that's it, " she ventured at last. "Some one has been telling lies aboutus!"

"Oh, dear no!" disclaimed Mrs. Scattergood, "It is only that your friendscannot understand your taking sides against them. Naturally they feel hurt. Forgive me, dear--you know I say it with all affection--but don't you thinkit a mistake?"

Nan was thoroughly dazed and mystified, but afraid to press the matterfurther. She had a suspicion Mrs. Morrell was again responsible for herdifficulties, but was too uncertain to urge them to stay for furtherelucidation. They arose. These were the days of hoop skirts, and the set ofthe outer skirt had to be carefully adjusted before going out. As theyposed in turn before the hall pier glass they chattered. "How lovely thehouse looks. " "You certainly have worked hard, and must be tired, poordear!" "Well, we'll see you to-morrow at Mrs. Terry's. You're _not asked_?Surely there is some mistake! Well, those things always happen in a bigaffair, don't they?" "See you soon. " "Good-bye. " "Good-bye. "

Outside the house they paused at the head of the steps. 

"Well, what do you think of that?" said Sally. "I really believe the poorthing doesn't know, I believe I'll just drop in for a minute at Mrs. Caldwell's. Sorry you're not going my way. "

After a fashion Nan felt relieved by this interview, for she thought shediscerned only Mrs. Morrell's influence, and this, she knew, she couldeasily overcome. While she waited for Keith's return from whateverinaccessible fastnesses he always occupied during these big afternoonreceptions, she reviewed the situation, her indignation mounting. Downstairs, Wing Sam and his temporary assistants were clearing thingsaway. Usually Nan superintended this, but to-day she did not care. WhenKeith finally entered the room, she burst out on him with a rapid and angryaccount of the whole situation as she saw it; but to her surprise he didnot rise to it. His weary, spiritless, uninterested: acceptance of itastonished her to the last degree. To him her entanglement with the Coraaffair--for at once he saw the trend of it all--seemed the last straw. Noteven his own home was sacred. His spirit was so bruised and wearied that heactually could not rise to an explanation. He seemed to realize an utterhopelessness of making her see his point of view. This was not so strangewhen it is considered that this point of view, however firmly settled, wasstill a new and unexplained fact with himself. He contented himself withsaying: "The Morrells had nothing whatever to do with it. " It was the onlything that occurred to him as worth saying; but it was unfortunate, for itleft Nan's irritation without logical support. Naturally that irritationwas promptly transferred to him. 

"Then what, in heaven's name, is it?" she demanded. "My friends are alltreating me as if I had the smallpox. "

"Cheerful lot of friends we've made in this town!" he said bitterly. 

"What is the matter with them?" she persisted. 

"The matter is they've taken me for a fool they could order around to suitthemselves. They found they couldn't. Now they're through with me, even CalBennett, " he added in a lower tone that revealed his hurt. 

She paused, biting her underlip. 

"Is the trouble anything to do with this Cora case?" she asked, suddenlyenlightened by some vague, stray recollection. 

"Of course!" he replied crossly, exasperated at the nagging necessity ofarousing himself to explanations. "There's no use arguing about it. I'mgoing to see it through in spite of that hound McDougall and his whole packof curs!"

"But why have you turned so against your friends?" she asked more gently, struck by his careworn look as he sprawled in the easy chair under thelamp. "I don't see! You'll get yourself disliked!"

She did not press the matter further for the moment, but three days latershe brought up the topic again. In the interim she had heard considerabledirect and indirect opinion. She selected after dinner as the mostpropitious time for discussion. As a matter of fact, earlier in the daywould have been better, before Keith's soul had been rubbed raw by downtownattrition. 

"I don't believe you quite realize how strongly people feel about the Coracase, " she began. "Isn't it possible to drop it or compromise it orsomething, Milton?"

In the reaction from argument and--coldness downtown he felt he could standno more of it at home. 

"I wish you'd let that matter drop!" he said decidedly. "You couldn'tunderstand it. "

She hesitated. A red spot appeared in either cheek. 

"I must say I _don't_ understand!" she countered. "It is inconceivable tome that a man like you should turn so easily against his class!"

"My class?" he echoed wearily. 

"What do such creatures as Cora and Yankee Sullivan amount to?" she criedhotly, "I suppose you'll say _they_ are in your class next! How you canconsider them of sufficient importance to go dead against your best friendson their account!"

"It is because I am right and they are wrong. "

She was a little carried beyond herself. 

"Well, they all think the same way, " she pointed out. "Aren't you a little--a little--"

"Pig-headed, " supplied Keith bitterly. 

"--to put your opinion against theirs?" she finished. 

Keith did not reply. 

This was Nan's last attempt. She did not bring up the subject again. Butshe withdrew proudly and completely from all participation in society. Sherefused herself to callers. Once the situation was thoroughly defined, sheaccepted it. If her husband decided to play the game in this way, she, too, would follow, whether she approved or not. Nan was loyal and athoroughbred. And she was either too proud or too indifferent to fight itout with the other women, in the rough and tumble of social ambition. 

XLVI

In this voluntary seclusion Nan saw laterally only two persons. One ofthese was Mrs. Sherwood. The ex-gambler's wife called frequently; and, forsome reason, Nan never refused to see her, although she did not make hervisitor particularly welcome. Often an almost overmastering impulse seizedher to open her soul to this charming, sympathetic, tactful woman, butsomething always restrained her. Her heart was too sore. And since aninhibited impulse usually expresses itself by contraries, her attitude wasof studied and aloof politeness. Mrs. Sherwood never seemed to notice this. She sat in the high-ceilinged "parlour, " with its strange fresco of paintedfish-nets, and chatted on in a cheerful monologue, detailing small gossipyitems of news. She always said goodbye cordially, and went out with awonderful assumption of ignorance that anything was wrong. Her visits didNan good, although never could the latter break through the ice wall ofreserve. Nan's conscience often hurt her that she could answer this genuinefriendship with so little cordiality. She wondered dully how Mrs. Sherwoodcould bring herself to be so good to so cross-grained a creature asherself. As a matter of fact, the women were marking time in theirrelations--Mrs. Sherwood consciously, Nan unconsciously--until better days. 

The other regular caller was Ben Sansome. His attitude was in some sensedetached. He was quietly, deeply sympathetic in his manner, neverobtrusive, never even hinting in words at his knowledge of the state ofaffairs, but managing in some subtle manner to convey the impression thathe alone fully understood. Nan found that, without her realization, almostin spite of herself, Sansome had managed to isolate her with himself on alittle island of mutual understanding, apart from all the rest of theworld. 

Her life was now becoming circumscribed. Household, books, some smallindividual charities, and long afternoon walks filled her days. At firstSansome had accompanied her on these tramps, but the unfailing, almostuncanny insight of the man told him that at such times her spirit reallycraved solitude, so he soon tactfully ceased all attempts to join her. Herusual walk was over the cliffs toward the bay, where, from some of theelevations near Russian Hill, she could look out to the Golden Gate, oracross to Tamalpais or the Contra Costa shores. The crawl of the distantblue water, the flash of wing or sail, the taste of salt rime, the cañonshadows of the hills, the flying murk, or the last majestic and magnificentblotting out of the world as the legions of sea fog overtoiled it, allanswered or soothed moods in her spirit. Sometimes she forgot herself andoverstayed the daylight. At such times she scuttled home half fearfully forthe great city, like a jungle beast, was most dangerous at night. 

One evening, returning thus in haste, she was lured aside by the clang ofbells and the glare of a fire. No child ever resisted that combination, andNan was still a good deal of a child. Almost before she knew, it she waswedged fast in a crowd. The pressure was suffocating; and, to her alarm, she found herself surrounded by a rough-looking set of men. They wereprobably harmless workingmen, but Nan did not know that. She becamefrightened, and tried to escape, but her strength was not equal to it. Near the verge of panic, she was fairly on the point of struggling, whenshe felt an arm thrown around her shoulder. She looked up with a cry, tomeet Ben Sansome's brown eyes. 

"Don't be afraid; I'm here, " he said soothingly. 

In the revulsion Nan fairly thrilled under the touch of his manly, protection. This impulse was followed instantly, by an instinct ofwithdrawal from the embrace about her shoulder, which was in turn succeededby a fierce scorn of being prudish in such circumstances. Sansomemasterfully worked her out through the press. At the last tactful moment hewithdrew his arm. She thanked him, still a little frightened. 

"It was certainly lucky you happened to be here!" she ended. 

"Lucky!" he laughed briefly. "I knew that sooner or later you'd need me. "

He stopped at that, but allowed her questions to elicit the fact that everyafternoon he had followed her at a discreet distance, scrupulouslyrespecting her privacy, but ready for the need that sooner or later mustsurely arrive. Nan was touched. 

"You have no right to endanger yourself this way!" he cried, as thoughcarried away. "It is not just to those who care for you!" and by the toneof his voice, the look of his eye, the slight emphasizing pressure of hishand he managed to convey to her, but in a manner to which she could notpossibly object, his belief that his last phrase referred more to himselfthan to any one else in the world. 

It was about this period that John Sherwood, dressing for dinner, remarkedto his wife:

"Patsy, the more I see of you the more I admire you. Do you remember thatFiremen's Ball when you started in to break up that Keith-Morrell affair?He dropped her so far that I haven't heard her _plunk_ yet! I don't knowwhat made me think of it--it was a long time ago. "

"Yes, that was all right, " she replied thoughtfully, "but I'm not aspleased as I might be with the Keith situation. "

Sherwood stopped tying his cravat and turned to face her. 

"He's perfectly straight, I assure you, " he said earnestly. "I don'tbelieve he knows that any other woman but his wife exists. I _know_ that. But I wish he'd go a little easier with the men. "

"Oh, I wasn't thinking of him. She's the culprit now. "

"What!" cried Sherwood, astonished, "that little innocent baby!"

"That 'little innocent baby' is seeing altogether too much of Ben Sansome. "

Sherwood uttered a snort of masculine scorn. 

"Ho! Ben Sansome?"

"Yes, Ben Sansome. "

"Why, he's a notorious butterfly. "

"Well, it looks now as though he intended to alight. "

"Seriously?"

She nodded. Sherwood slowly went on with his dressing. 

"I like that little creature, " he said at last. "She's the sort thatstrikes me as born to be treated well and to be happy. Some people are thatway, you know; just as others are born painters or plumbers. " She nodded inappreciation. "And if you give the word, Patsy, I'll go around and have aword with Keith--or spoil Sansome--whichever you say----"

She laughed. 

"You're a dear, Jack, but if you love me, keep your hands off here. "

"Are you bossing this job?" he asked gravely. 

"I'm bossing this job, " she repeated, with equal gravity. 

He said nothing more for a time, but his eyes twinkled. 

XLVII

Keith's investigations proceeded until at last he felt justified inpreferring before the Bar Association charges of irregular practice againstJames Ware, Bernard Black, and--to his great regret--Calhoun Bennett. Heconceived he had enough evidence to convict these men legally, but he asyet shrank from asking for an indictment against them, preferring at firstto try for their discipline before their fellow lawyers. If the BarAssociation failed, however, he had every intention of pressing the matterin the courts. 

Almost immediately after the filing of the complaint he was waited on inhis office by a man only slightly known to him, Major Marmaduke Miles. Themajor's occupation in life was obscure. He was a red-faced, tightlybuttoned, full-jowled, choleric Southerner of the ultra-punctilious brand, always well dressed in quaint and rather old-fashioned garments, withcharming manners, and the reminiscence of good looks lost in a florid andapoplectic habit. This person entered Keith's office, greeted him formally, declined a chair. Standing very erect before Keith's desk, his beaver hatpoised on his left forearm, he said:

"I am requested, suh, to enquiah of yo' the name of a friend with whom Ican confer. "

"If that means a challenge, Major, I must first ask the name of yourprincipal, " returned Keith. 

"I am actin' fo' Mr. Calhoun Bennett, suh, " stated the major. 

"Tell Cal Bennett I will not fight him, " said Keith quietly. 

The major was plainly flabbergasted, and for a moment puffed his red cheeksin and out rapidly. 

"You mean to tell me, suh, that yo' refuse the satisfaction due a gentlemanafter affrontin' him?"

"I won't fight Cal Bennett, " repeated Keith patiently. 

The major turned even redder, and swelled so visibly that Keith, in spiteof his sad realization of the gravity of the affair, caught himselfguiltily in a boyish anticipation that some of the major's strained buttonswould pop. 

"I shall so repo't to my principal, suh. But I may add, suh, that in myopinion, suh, yo' are conductin' yo'self in a manner unbecomin' to agentleman; and othuh gentlemen will say so, suh! They may go even farthahand stigmatize yo' conduct as cowardly, suh! And it might even be that I, suh, would agree with that expression, suh!"

The major glowered. Keith smiled wearily. It did not to him at the momentthat this would be so great a calamity. 

"I am sorry to have forfeited your good opinion, Major, " he contentedhimself with saying. 

The major marched straight back to the Monumental, where Bennett and anumber of friends were awaiting the result of his mission. The major'sangry passions had been rising, every foot of the way. 

"He won't fight, suh!" he bellowed, slamming his cane across the table. "Hewon't fight! And I stigmatized him to his face as a white-livered hound!"

Calhoun Bennett sank back pale, and speechless. His companions deluged himwith advice. 

"Horsewhip the craven publicly. " "Warn him to go heeled, and then force theissue!" "Shoot him down like the dog he is!"

But the major's mighty bellow dominated everything. 

"I claim the privilege!" he roared. "Egad, I _demand_ the privilege! It ismy right! I am insulted by such a rebuff! Now that I have acquitted myselfof Cal's errand, I will call him out myself. Ain't that right, Cal? I'llmake the hound fight!"

The old major looked redder and fiercer than ever. There could be no doubtthat he would make any one fight, once he started out to do so, and that hewould carry the matter through. He was brave enough. 

But little Jimmy Ware, who had been doing some thinking, here spoke up. Itseemed to him a good chance to get a reputation without any risk. SinceJames King of William had uncompromisingly refused to fight duels, hisexample had been followed. A strong party of those having conscientiousscruples against the practice had come into being. Keith's refusal to fightBennett, to Ware's mind, indicated that he belonged to this class. Itlooked safe. 

"Pardon me, Major, " he broke in suavely; "but each in turn. I claim theright. Cal had first chance because he had personally warned the man of theconsequences. But I am equally accused. You must admit my prior claim. "

The major came off the boil. Puffing his red cheeks in and out heconsidered. 

"Yo're right, suh, " he conceded reluctantly. 

After considerable persuasion, and some flattery as to his familiarity withthe niceties of the Code, the major consented to bear Jimmy's defiance. Heentered Keith's office again, stiffer than a ramrod. Keith smiled at him. 

"There's no use, Major, I won't fight Cal Bennett, " he greeted his visitor. 

"I am the bearer of a challenge from Mistah James Ware, " he announced. 

"What!" yelled Keith, so suddenly and violently that Major Miles recoiled astep. 

"From Mistah James Ware, " he repeated. 

Keith laughed savagely. 

"Oh, I'll fight him, " he growled; "gladly; any time he wants it. "

The major's face lit up. 

"If you'll name yo' friend, suh, " he suggested. 

"Friend? Friend? What for? I'm capable of arranging this. I haven't time tohunt up a friend. "

"It's customary, " objected the major. 

"Look here, " Keith swept on, "I'm the challenged party and I have the say-so, haven't I?"

"Yo' can name the weapons, " conceded Major Marmaduke Miles. 

"All right, we'll call this revolvers, navy revolvers--biggest there are, whatever that is. And close up. None of your half-mile shooting. "

"Ten yards, " suggested Major Miles with unholy joy. 

"And right away--this afternoon, " went on Keith. "If that little runt wantstrouble, egad he's going to have all his little skin will hold. "

But the major would not have this. It was not done. He waived conductinghis negotiations through a second, but that was as far as his conventionalsoul would go. He held out for three o'clock the following afternoon. 

"And I wish to apologize, Mistah Keith, " he said, on parting, "fo' my ill-considered words of a short time ago. I misunderstood yo' reasons fo'refusin' to fight Mistah Bennett. "

He bowed his rotund, tightly buttoned little figure and departed, to strikeJimmy Ware with complete consternation. 

Duels in the fifties were almost an acknowledged public institution. Although technically illegal, no one was ever convicted of any of theconsequences of such encounters. They were conducted quite openly. Indeed, some of the more famous were actively advertised by steamboat men, whocarried excursions to the field. Keith's acceptance of Ware's challengearoused the keenest interest. Outside the prominence of the men involved, avague feeling was current that in their persons were symbolized opposingforces in the city's growth. As yet these forces had not segregated to thatpoint where champions were demanded, or indeed would be recognized as such, but vague feelings of antagonism, of alignments, were abroad. Those wholater would constitute the Law and Order class generally sympathized withWare; those whom history was to know as the Vigilantes felt stirrings ofpartisanship for Keith. Therefore, the following afternoon a small flotillaset sail for the Contra Costa shore, and a crowd of several hundredspectators disembarked at the chosen duelling ground. 

Nan knew nothing of all this. Keith was now in such depths of low spiritsthat his wearied soul did not much care what became of him. He put hisaffairs in shape, shrugged his shoulders, and went to the encounter withabsolute indifference. 

The preliminaries were soon over. Keith found himself facing Jimmy Ware atthe distance he had himself chosen. A double line of spectators stood at arespectful space on either side. Major Miles and an acquaintance of Keith'swho had volunteered to act for him were posted nearer at hand. Keith hadlistened attentively to the instructions. The word was to be given--_one, two, three. Fire!_ Between the first and last words the duellists were todischarge the first shot from their weapons. After that they were to fireat will. One shot would have sufficed Jimmy Ware; but Keith, withoutemotion, filed with a dead indifference to any possible danger and a savagecontempt for the whole proceedings, had insisted on the full measure. Hewas totally unaccustomed to weapons. At the word of command he raised therevolver and fired, carelessly but coolly, and without result. One afterthe other he discharged the six chambers of his weapon, aiming as well ashe knew how. It did not occur to him that Ware was firing at him. After thesixth miss he threw the revolver away in cold disgust. 

"This is a farce, " said he, "and I'm not going to be fool enough to takepart in it any longer. "

Jimmy Ware, delighted at finding himself unharmed, and confident now thatbluff would go, started to say something lofty and disdainful. Keithwhirled back on him. 

"If you want 'satisfaction, ' as you call it, you'll get it, and you'll getit plenty! I'm sick of being made a fool of. Just open your ugly head to meagain, and I'll knock it off your shoulders!" His eye smouldereddangerously, and Jimmy Ware, very uncertain in his mind, took refuge in ahaughty look. Keith glared at him moment, then turned to the crowd: "I'llgive all of you fair warning, " said he. "I'm going to do my legal duty inall things; and I'm not going to fight duels. Anybody who interferes withme is going to get into trouble!"

An uproar ensued. All this was most irregular, unprecedented, a disgrace toa gentlemen's meeting. The major roared like a bull. If a man would notfight, would not defend his actions, how could a gentleman get at himexcept by street brawling or assassination, and both of these wererepugnant to finer feelings. A dozen fire-eaters felt themselves personallyinsulted. The crowd surrounded Keith, shouting at him, jostling him, threatening. A cool, somewhat amused voice broke in. 

"Gentlemen, " said Talbot Ward, in so decided a tone that they turned tohear. "I am a neutral non-partisan in this little war, I am for neitherparty, for neither opinion, in the matter. I, like Mr, Keith, never fightduels. But may I suggest--merely in the interest of fair play--that for themoment you are forgetting yourselves? My opinion coincides with Mr. Keith'sthat duelling is a foolish sort of game, but it is a game, and recognized;and if you are going to play it, why not stick to its rules? Mr. Keith, andMr. Ware have exchanged shots. Mr. Ware has therefore had 'satisfaction. 'Now Mr. Keith and I going to walk--quietly--to the boat. We do not expectto be molested. "

"By God, Tal!" cried Major Miles in astonishment, "ye' don't mean to tellme yo're linin' yourself up on the side of that blackleg!"

"Well, " put in a new voice, a very cheerful voice, "I don't pretend to beneutral, and I'd just as lief fight duels as not, and I'm willing to stateto you all that though I don't know a damn thing about this case nor itsmerits, I like this man's style. And I'm ready to state that I'll take hisplace and fight any--or all of you--right here and now. You, Major?"

All eyes turned to him. He was a dark, eager youth, standing with hisslouch hat in his hand, his head thrown back, his mop of shiny black hairtossed from his forehead, his eyes glowing. The major hummed and fussed. 

"I have absolutely no quarrel with you, suh!" he said. 

"Nor with my friend yonder?" insisted the newcomer. 

"I should esteem it beneath my dignity to fight with a craven and a coward, suh!" the major saved his face. 

The stranger glanced at Keith, an amused light in his eyes. 

"We'll let it go at that, " he conceded. "Anybody else?" he challenged, eying them. 

Every one seemed busy getting ready to go home, and appeared not to hearhim. After a moment he put on his felt hat and joined Keith and Ward, whowere walking slowly toward the landing. 

"Well, " remarked a rough-looking Yankee--our old friend Graves of theEurekas to his friend Carter--"I didn't know anything would cool off themajor like that!"

"I reckon the major knew who he was talking to, " replied Carter. 

"Who is the cuss? I never saw him before. "

"Don't you know him? I reckon you must have heard of him, anyway. He's justdown from the Sierra. That's the express rider, Johnny Fairfax--DiamondJack, they call him. "

Graves whistled an enlightened whistle. 

XLVIII

Johnny Fairfax accompanied Keith all the way back to his office, althoughTalbot Ward said good-bye at the wharves. He bubbled over with conversationand enthusiasm, and seemed to have taken a great fancy to the lawyer. Thetheme of his glancing talk was the duel, over which he was immenselyamused; but from it he diverged on the slightest occasion to comment onwhatever for the moment struck his notice. 

"That was certainly the rottenest shooting I ever saw!" he exclaimed overand over, and then would go off into peals of laughter. "I don't see howtwelve shots at that distance could miss! After the second exchange Iconcluded even the side line wasn't safe, and I got behind a tree. Pays tobe prompt In your decision; there were a hundred applicants for that tree amoment later, The bloodless duel as a parlour amusement! You ought to havecharged that large and respectable audience an admission fee! That's a goodidea; I'll present it to you! If you ever have another due, you must have agood manager! There's money in it!"

Keith laughed a trifle ruefully, "I suppose it was funny, " he acknowledged. 

"Now don't get huffy, " begged Johnny Fairfax. "What you ought to do is tolearn to shoot. You'll probably need to know how if you keep on livingaround here, " His eye fell on a shooting gallery. "Come in here, " he urgedimpulsively. 

The proprietor was instructed to load his pistols and for a dozen shotsKeith was coached vehemently in the elementals of shooting--taught at leastthe theory of pulling steadily, of coordinating various muscles andpsychological processes that were not at all used to coördination. Helearned that mere steady aiming was a small part of it. 

"Anybody can do wonderful shooting with an empty pistol, " said Johnnycontemptuously. "And anybody can hold as steady as a rock--until he pullsthe trigger. "

"It's interesting, " conceded Keith; "mighty interesting. I didn't knowthere was so much to it. "

"Of course it's interesting, " said Johnny. "And you're only at therudiments. Look here!"

And, to the astonishment of Keith, the worshipful adoration of theshooting-gallery proprietor, and the awe of the usual audience thatgathered at the sound of the reports, he proceeded to give an exhibition ofthe skill that had made him famous. The shooting galleries of those daysused no puny twenty-twos. Derringers, pocket revolvers, and the huge"navies" were at hand--with reduced loads, naturally--for those who inhabitual life affected these weapons. Johnny shot with all of them, displaying the tricks of the gunman with all the naïve enthusiasm of youth. His manner throughout was that engaging mixture of modesty afraid of beingthought conceited and eager pride in showing his skill so attractive toeverybody. At first he shot deliberately, splitting cards, hitting marbles, and devastating whole rows of clay pipes. Then he took to secreting theweapons in various pockets from which he produced and discharged them inlightning time. His hand darted with the speed and precision of a snake'shead. 

"I've just been fooling with shooting things tossed in the air, " he said, exuberant with enthusiasm. "But I'm afraid we can't try that here. "

"I'm afraid not, " agreed the proprietor regretfully. 

"It really isn't very hard, once you get the knack. "

"Oh, no, " said the proprietor with elaborate sarcasm. "Say, " he went onearnestly, "I suppose it ain't no use trying to hire you--"

Johnny shook his head, smiling. 

"I was afraid not, " observed the proprietor disappointedly. "You'd be themaking of this place. Drop in any time you want practice. Won't cost you acent. Would you mind telling me your name?"

"Fairfax, " replied Johnny, gruffly embarrassed. 

"Not Diamond Jack?" hesitated the proprietor. 

"I'm sometimes called that, " conceded Johnny, still more gruffly. "How muchis it?"

"Not one gosh-danged continental red cent, " cried the man, "and I'm pleasedto meet you. "

Johnny shook his extended hand, mumbled something, and bolted for thestreet. Keith followed, laughing. 

"It seems you're quite a celebrity, " he observed. 

But Johnny refused to pursue that subject. 

"You come with me and buy you a pistol, " he growled. "You ought not to beallowed loose. You're as helpless as a baby. "

Johnny picked out a small . 31 calibre revolver and a supply of ammunition. 

"Now you practise!" was his final warning and advice. 

Keith went home with a new glow at his heart. He was ripe for a friend. 

Johnny seemed to have little to do for the moment. He never volunteeredinformation as to his business or his plans, and Keith never inquired. Butthe young express rider fell into the habit of dropping in at Keith'soffice. He was always very apologetic and solicitous as to whether or no hewas interrupting, saying that he had stopped for only ten seconds; but heinvariably ended in the swivel chair with a good cigar. Keith was at thistime busy; but he was never too busy for Johnny Fairfax. The latter was aluxury to which he treated himself. Johnny was not only welcome because hewas practically Keith's only friend, but also his frank and engagingcomments on men and things were gradually giving the harassed lawyer a newpoint of view on the society in which he found himself. Keith, as anewcomer in a community already established, had naturally accepted theprominent figures in that community as he would have accepted prominentfigures anywhere: that is, as respectable, formidable, admirable, solid, unquestioned pillars of society. He was of a modest disposition anddisinclined to question. He respected them as any modest young man respectsthose older and more successful than himself. For the same reason heaccepted their views and their authority; or, if he questioned them, he didso sadly, almost guiltily, with many heart-searchings. 

But Johnny Fairfax held no such attitude. Not he! The city's great nameshad scant respect from him! Not for an instant did he hesitate to criticiseor analyze the most renowned. It was not long before he learned all aboutthe Cora trial and Keith's subsequent efforts to discipline McDougall andhis associates. 

"I hope you get 'em!" said he; "the whole lot! I don't know much about thisMcDougall; but I do know his friends, and most of 'em aren't worth thinkin'about. They're big people here, but back where I came from, in oldVirginia, the best of 'em wouldn't be overseers on a plantation. That's whythey like it so much out here. Look at that gang! Casey has been in thepenitentiary, Rowlee ran some little blackleg sheet down South until theyrun him out---I tell you, sir, as a Southerner I'm not proud of theSoutherners out here. They're a cheap lot, most of 'em. They were a cheaplot home. The only difference is that back there everybody knew it, and outhere everybody thinks they're great people because they get up on theirhind legs and say so out loud. That old bluff, Major Miles, he was put outof a Richmond club, sir, for cheatin' at cards--I know that for a fact!"

Somehow, this frank criticism was like a breeze of fresh air to Keith: itput new courage into him. Johnny Fairfax had no interests in the city; hehad no fear; his viewpoint was free from all sham; he was newly in from theoutside. Through his eyes things fell into perspective. Suddenly SanFrancisco upper society became to Keith what it really was: a welter ofcheap, bragging, venal, self-seeking men, with here and there an honestfine character standing high above. And he began, but dimly, to see thatthe real men of the place were not--as yet--well known. Probably one of themost impressive and typical figures of the time was Justice of the SupremeCourt Terry. In the eyes of those too close to events to have a clear senseof proportion, he was one of the great men of his period. Courtly, handsome, with haughty manners, of aristocratic bearing, fiercely proud, touchily quarrelsome on "points of honour, " generous but a bitter hater, heand his equally handsome, proud, and fiery wife were considered by manypeople of the time as embodying the ideal of Southern chivalry. But JohnnyFairfax would have none of it. 

"He a typical Southern gentleman!" he laughed, "As being born in the Southmyself, I repudiate that! I know too much about Terry. Why, look here: he'sa good sport, and he's got ability, and he makes friends, and he isn'tafraid of anything, But then you stop. He's not a gentleman! It shows mostparticularly when he gets mad. Then he'll throw over anything--anything--tohave his own way. He's a big man now, but he won't be knee-high to a Junebug before he gets done. "

Johnny's prediction was long in fulfilment, but a score of years later itcame to pass, and Judge Terry's reputation has sunk almost to the level ofthat of his brother on the bench--Judge "Ned" McGowan. 

"They're all a bad lot, " Johnny finished, "and I hope you lick them! Youdon't know all the good folks in this town yet!"

XLIX

Calhoun Bennett dropped the matter, and contented himself with cuttingKeith dead whenever they happened to meet. Jimmy Ware and Black were men ofa different sort; indeed McDougall had made them his associates mainlybecause of their knowledge of the city's darker phases and theirunscrupulousness. In the admirable organization thus sketched CalhounBennett had acted as a sort of go-between. 

After the duel these two precious citizens held many anxious consultations. They could not tell just how much evidence Keith had succeeded ingathering, but they knew that plenty of it existed. If the matter came toan issue, they suspected the consequences might be serious. Either Keith orhis evidence must in some way be got rid of. Black, who was inclined byinstinct and training to be direct, was in favour of the simple expedientof hiring assassins. 

"Won't do, " negatived the more astute Ware. "The thing will be traced backto us--not legally, of course, but to a moral certainty, and while theywon't be able to prove anything on us, the state of the public mind is suchthat hell would pop. "

"He says he won't fight another duel, " said Black doubtfully. 

"No. "

"We've got to kill him in a street quarrel, then. "

"He's got to be killed in a street quarrel, " amended Ware, "that's certain;but nobody even remotely connected with this Cora trial must seem to haveanything to do with it. It must have the appearance of a private quarrelfrom away outside. Otherwise----"

"Got anybody in mind?" asked the practical Black. 

"Yes, and he ought to be here at any moment. "

As though Jimmy Ware's words had been the cue for which he waited, Morrellhere entered the room. 

L

At three o'clock in the afternoon of May 14, 1856, the current issue of the_Bulletin_ was placed on sale. A very few minutes later a copy found itsway into the hands of James Casey. Casey at that time, in addition to hispolitical cares, was editor of a small sheet he called the _Sunday Times_. With this he had strenuously supported the extreme wing of the Law party, which, as has been explained, comprised also the gambling and lawlesselement. It was suspected by some that his paper was more or lesssubsidized for the purpose, though the probability is that Casey found hisreward merely in political support. This Casey it was who, to his own vastsurprise, had at a previous election been returned as elected supervisor;although he was not a candidate, his name was not on the ticket, and no mancould be found who had voted for him. Indeed, he was not even a resident ofthe district. However, Yankee Sullivan, who ran the election, saidofficially the votes had been cast for him; so elected he was proclaimed. Undoubtedly he proved useful; he had always proved useful at electionselsewhere, seldom appearing in person, but adept at selecting suitableagents. His methods were devious, dishonest, and rough. He was head of theCrescent Fire Engine Company, and was personally popular. In appearance hewas a short, slight man, with a bright, keen face, a good forehead, a thinbut florid countenance, dark curly hair, and light blue eyes, a type ofunscrupulous Irish adventurer with a dash of romantic ideals. Like all thegentlemen rovers of his time, he was exceedingly touchy on the subject of"honour. "

In the _Bulletin_ of the date mentioned James Casey read these words, apropos of the threat of one Bagby to shoot Casey on sight:

 It does not matter how bad a man Casey had been, or how much benefit it might be to the public to have him out of the way, we cannot accord to any one citizen the right to kill him, or even beat him, without justifiable provocation. The fact that Casey has been an inmate of Sing Sing prison in New York is no offence 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 for Mr. Bagby to shoot Casey, however richly the latter may deserve to have his neck stretched for such fraud on the public. 

Casey read this in the full knowledge that thousands of his fellow-citizenswould also read it. His thin face turned white with anger. He crumpled thepaper into a ball and hurled it violently into the gutter, settled his hatmore firmly on his head, and proceeded at once to the _Bulletin_ officewith the full intention of shooting King on sight. Probably he would havedone so, save for the accidental circumstance that King happened to be busyat a table, his back squarely to the door. Casey could not shoot a man inthe back without a word. He was breathless and stuttering with excitement. King was alone, but an open door into an adjoining office permitted twowitnesses to see and hear. 

"What do you mean by that article?" cried Casey in a strangled voice. 

King turned slowly, and examined his visitor for a moment. 

"What article?" he inquired at last. 

"That which says I was formerly an inmate of Sing Sing!"

King gazed at him with a depth of detached, patient sadness in his darkeyes. 

"Is it not true?" he asked finally. 

"That is not the question, " retorted Casey, trying again to work himself upto the rage in which he had entered. "I do not wish my past acts rated up:on that point I am sensitive. "

A faint smile came and went on King's lips. 

"Are you done?" he asked still quietly; then, receiving no reply, heturned in his chair and leaned forward with a sudden intensity. His nextwords hit with the impact of bullets: "There's the door! Go! Never showyour face here again!" he commanded. 

Casey found himself moving toward the open door. He did not want to dothis, he wanted to shoot King, or at least to provoke a quarrel, but he wasfor the moment overcome by a stronger personality. At the door he gatheredhimself together a little. 

"I'll say in my paper what I please!" he asserted, with a show of bravado. 

King was leaning back, watching him steadily. 

"You have a perfect right to do so, " he rejoined. "I shall never noticeyour paper. "

Casey struck himself on the breast. 

"And if necessary I shall defend myself!" he cried. 

King's passivity broke. He bounded from his seat bristling with anger. 

"Go!" he commanded sharply, and Casey went. 

LI

People had already read King's article in the _Bulletin_. People had seenCasey heading for the _Bulletin_ office with blood in his eye. The news hadspread. When the Irishman emerged he found waiting for him a curious crowd. His friends crowded around asking eager questions. Casey answered withvague but bloodthirsty generalities: he wasn't a man to be trifled with, and egad some people had to find that out! blackmailing was not a healthyoccupation when it was aimed at a gentleman! He left the impression thatKing had recanted, had apologized, had even begged--there would be no moretrouble. Uttering brags of this sort, Casey led the way to the BankExchange, a fashionable bar near at hand. Here he set up the drinks, andwas treated in turn. His bragging became more boastful. He made a fineimpression, but within his breast the taste of his interview with Kingcurdled into dangerous bitterness. Casey could never stand much alcohol. The well-meant admiration and sympathy of his friends served only toincrease his hidden, smouldering rage. His eyes became bloodshot, and hetalked even more at random. 

In the group that surrounded him was our old acquaintance, Judge EdwardMcGowan--Ned McGowan--jolly, hard drinking, oily, but not as noisy asusual. He was watching Casey closely. The Honourable Ned was himself afugitive from Pennsylvania justice. By dint of a gay life, a happycombination of bullying and intrigue, he had made himself a place in thenew city, and at last had "risen" to the bench. He was apparently all onthe surface, but his schemes ran deep. Some historians claim that he hadfurnished King the documents proving Casey an ex-convict! Now, when heconsidered the moment opportune, he drew Casey from the noisy group at thebar. 

"All this talk is very well, " he said contemptuously to the Irishman, "butI see through it. What are you going to do about it?"

"I'll get even with the----, don't you worry about that!" promised Casey, still blustering. 

This McGowan brushed aside as irrelevant. "Are you armed?" he asked. "No, that little weapon is too uncertain. Take this. " He glanced about him, andhastily passed to Casey a big "navy" revolver. "You can hide it under yourcloak--so!" He fixed Casey's eyes with his own, and brought to bear on thelittle man all the force of his very vital personality, "Listen: King comesby here every evening. Everybody knows that, and everybody knows what hashappened. "

He stared at Casey significantly for a moment, then turned abruptly away. Casey, become suddenly quiet, his blustering mood fallen from him, his facethoughtful and white, his eyes dilated, said nothing. He returned to thebar, took a solitary drink, and walked out the door, his right handconcealed beneath his long cloak. McGowan watched him intently, followingto the door, and looking after the other's retreating form. Casey walkedacross the street, but stopped behind a wagon, where he stood, apparentlywaiting. McGowan, with a grunt of satisfaction, sauntered deliberately tothe corner of the Bank Exchange. There he leaned against the wall, alsowaiting. 

For nearly an hoar the two thus remained: Casey shrouded in his cloak, apparently oblivious to everything except the corner of Merchant andMontgomery streets, on which he kept his eyes fixed; McGowan loungingeasily, occasionally speaking a low word to a passerby. Invariably theperson so addressed came to a stop. Soon a little group had formed, idlingwith Judge McGowan. A small boy happening by was commandeered with amessage for Pete Wrightman, the deputy sheriff, and shortly Pete arrivedout of breath to join the group. 

At just five o'clock the idlers stiffened to attention. King's figure wasseen to turn the corner of Merchant Street into Montgomery. Head bent, hewalked toward the corner of the Bankers' Exchange, the men on the cornerwatching him. When nearly at that point he turned to cross the streetdiagonally. 

At the same instant Casey stepped forward from behind the wagon, throwingback his cloak. 

LII

The same afternoon Johnny Fairfax and Keith were sitting together in theMonumental's reading-room. They happened to be the only members in thebuilding with the exception of Bert Taylor, who was never anywhere else. Oflate Keith had acquired the habit of visiting the reading-room at thisempty hour. He was beginning to shrink from meeting his fellowmen. JohnnyFairfax was a great comfort to him, for the express rider was never out ofspirits, had a sane outlook, and entertained a genuine friendship for theyoung lawyer. Although yet under thirty years of age, he was already an"old-timer, " for he had come out in '49, and knew the city's early historyat first hand. 

"This old bell of yours is historical, " he told Keith. "Its tolling calledtogether the Vigilantes of '51. "

They sat gossiping for an hour, half sleepy with reaction from the fatiguesof the day, smoking slowly, enjoying themselves. Everything was verypeaceful--the long slant of a sunbeam through dust motes, the buzz of anearly bluebottle, the half-heard activities of some of the servants in thepantry beyond, preparing for the rush of the cocktail hour. Suddenly Johnnyraised his head and pricked up his ears. 

"What the deuce is that!" he exclaimed. 

They listened, then descended to the big open engine-room doors andlistened again. From the direction of Market Street came the dull sounds ofturmoil, shouting, the growl and roar of many people excited by something. Across the Plaza a man appeared, running. As he came nearer, both could seethat his face had a very grim expression. 

"Here!" called Johnny, as the man neared them. "Stop a minute! Tell uswhat's the matter!"

The man ceased running, but did not stop. He was panting but evidently veryangry. His words came from between gritted teeth. 

"Fight, " he said briefly. "Casey and James King of William. King's shot. "

At the words something seemed to be stilled in Keith's mind. Johnny seizedthe man by the sleeve. 

"Hold on, " he begged. "I know that kind of a fight. Tell us. "

"Casey went up close to King, said 'come on, ' and instantly shot him beforeKing knew what he was saying. "

"Killed?"

"Fatally wounded. "

"Where's Casey?"

"In jail--of course--where he's safe--with his friends. "

"Where you headed for?"

"I'm going to get my gun!" said the man grimly, and began again to run. 

They watched his receding figure until it swung around the corner anddisappeared. Without warning a white-hot wave of anger swept over Keith. All the little baffling, annoying delays, enmities, technicalities, chicaneries, personal antagonisms, evasions that had made up the Cora trialwere in it. He seemed to see clearly the inevitable outcome of this trialalso. It would be another Cora-Richardson case over again. A brave spirithad been brutally blotted out by an outlaw who relied confidently on theusual exoneration. With an exclamation Keith darted into the engine houseto where hung the rope ready for an alarm. An instant later the heavybooming of the Monumental's bell smote the air. 

LIII

Having given this alarm. Keith, Johnny at his elbow, started toward thecentre of disturbance, From it arose a dull, menacing roar, like the soundof breakers on a rocky coast. Many people, with much excitement, shouting, and vituperation, were converging toward the common centre. As this wasapproached, it became more difficult, at last impossible, to proceed. Thestreets were packed, jammed. All sorts of rumours were abroad--King, wasdead--King was only slightly hurt--Casey was not in jail at all--Casey hadescaped down the Peninsula--the United States warships had anchored off thefoot of Market Street and were preparing to bombard the city. There wasmuch rushing to and fro without cause. And over all the roar could bedistinguished occasionally single cries, as one may catch fragments ofconversation in a crowded room, and all of these were sinister: "Hang him!""Where is he?" "Run him up on a lamp post!" "Bring him out!" "He'll getaway if left to the officers!" And over all the cries, the shouts, thecurses, the noise of shuffling feet, the very sound of heavy breathing--that--the numbers of the mob magnified to a muffled, formidable undernote, pealed louder and louder the Monumental bell, which now Bert Taylor--orsome one else--was ringing like mad. 

Keith's eyes had become grim and inscrutable, and his mouth had settledinto a hard, straight line. Johnny's interest had at first centred in themob, but after a few curious glances at his companion he transferred itentirely to him, Johnny Fairfax was a judge of men and of crises; and nowhe was invaded with a great curiosity to see how the one and the other werehere to work out. With a determination that would not be gainsaid, Keiththrust himself through the crowd until he had gained an elevated coping. Here he stood watching. Johnny, after a glance at his face, joined him. 

Suddenly in the entrance of Dunbar Alley, next the city jail, a compactgroup of men with drawn pistols appeared. They made their way rapidly to acarriage standing near, jumped in, and the driver whipped up his horses. With a yell of rage the crowd charged down, but recoiled instinctivelybefore the presented pistols. The horses reared and plunged, and beforeanybody had gathered his wits sufficiently to seize the bridles, the wholeequipage had disappeared around the corner of Kearney Street. 

"I must say that was well done, " said Johnny. 

"North and Charles Duane, with Casey, inside, " commented Keith, asdispassionately as though reading from a catalogue. "Billy Mulligan and hisdeputies outside. That is to be remembered. "

A great mob had surged after the disappearing vehicle, but at least fiftyyards in the rear. The remainder were following at a more leisurely pace. Almost immediately the street was empty. Keith climbed slowly down from hiscoping. 

"What do you intend doing?" asked Johnny curiously. 

"Nothing yet. "

"But they're getting him away!"

"No, " said Keith, out of his local knowledge. "They're merely taking him tothe county jail; it's stronger. "

They followed the crowd to the wide open space below the county jail. Thelatter was at that period a solidly built one-story building situated atopa low bluff. Below it the marshal had drawn up his officers. They stoodcoolly at ease. The mob, very excited, vociferated, surged back and forth. North and his men, busily and coolly, but emphatically, were warning them, over and over again, not to approach nearer. A single, concerted rush wouldhave overwhelmed the few defenders; but the rush was not made. Nevertheless, it could not be doubted that this time the temper of thepeople was very determined. The excitement was growing with every minute. Cries again took coherence. 

"Hang him!" "Arrest the officers!" "Good, that's it!" "Let's take thejail!"

A man burst through the front ranks, clambered up the low bluff on whichstood the jail, turned, and attempted to harangue the crowd. He wasinstantly torn down by the officers. He fought like a wild cat, and thecrowd, on the hair trigger as it was, howled and broke forward. But MarshalNorth, who really handled the situation intelligently, sharply commandedhis men to desist, and instantly to release the orator. He knew better thanto allow the matter to come to an issue of strength. Intensely excited, theman shouldered his way through the crowd, and, assisted by many hands, mounted the balcony of a two-story house. Thence he began to harangue, butso great was the confusion that he could not be heard. 

"Who is he?" "Who is that man?" voices cried from a dozen points. 

George Frank, a hotel keeper, possessed of a great voice, shouted back:

"That is Thomas King--"

An officer seized Frank hastily by the collar. "Stop or I'll arrest you!"he threatened. 

"--brother of James King of William!" bellowed Frank, undaunted. 

"Bully for you!" muttered Johnny Fairfax, whose eyes were shining. 

Keith was watching the whole scene from beneath the brim of his hat, hiseyes sombre and expressionless. Johnny glanced at him from time to time, but said nothing. 

From the balcony Thomas King continued to harangue the crowd. Little ofwhat he said could be heard, but he was at a white heat of excitement, andthose nearest him were greatly aroused. An officer made a movement toarrest him, but a hasty message from the sapient North restrained that. 

At that moment a great cheer burst out from the lower end of the street. Over the heads of the crowd could be distinguished the glint of file afterfile of bayonets. 

"That's the ticket!" cried an enthusiast near Keith and Johnny. "Here comethe militia boys! Now we'll soon have the jail!"

The bayonets bobbed steadily through the crowd, deployed in front of thejail, and turned to face the mob. A great groan went up. 

"Sold!" cried the enthusiast. 

These were volunteers from the Law and Order party, hastily armed from themilitia armouries, and thrown in front of the jail for its protection. 

Immediately they had taken position the jail door opened, and thereappeared a rather short, carefully dressed man, with side whiskers, carrying his hat in his hand. He stood for a moment, appealing forattention, one arm upraised. Little by little the noise died down. 

"Who is that?" inquired Johnny. 

He received no reply from Keith, but the enthusiast informed him:

"That's our beloved mayor--Van Ness, " said he. 

When quiet had at length been restored, Van Ness addressed them:

"You are here creating an excitement, " he said, "which may lead tooccurrences this night which will require years to wipe out. You are nowlabouring under great excitement, and I advise you quietly to disperse. Iassure you the prisoner is safe. Let the law have its course and justicewill be done. "

Up to this point Van Ness had been listened to with respect, but at thelast word he received such a chorus of jeers and cat calls that he retiredhastily. 

"How about Richardson?" they demanded of him. "Where's the law in Cora'scase?" "To hell with such justice!"

"Not the popular orator, " observed Johnny Fairfax. 

More soldiers came, and then more, at short intervals, until the square wasfilled with shining bayonets. Johnny was frankly disgusted. As a man ofaction he too well understood that this particular crisis was practicallyover. From this mob the jail was safe. 

"They lost their chance talking, " he said. "They ought to have rushed thejail first pop. Now the whole thing will fizzle out slowly. Let's go getsupper. "

Without reply Keith descended from his perch. They hunted some time for arestaurant. All were closed for the sufficient reason that their staffswere on the streets. Finally they discovered a Chinese chop house preparedto serve them, and here they ate. Johnny was voluble in his scorn for themanner in which a golden opportunity had been allowed to slip by. Keith wasvery taciturn. 

"Let's get out of here, " he said abruptly at last. "Let's get some news. "

They learned that King was still alive, though badly wounded in the leftbreast; that he could not be moved; that he was attended by Dr. BeverlyCole and a half score of the best surgeons of the city; that a mass meetinghad been called at the Plaza. Indeed, there could be no doubt that thecentre of excitement had been shifted to the Plaza. Men by thousands, allarmed, were marching in that direction. Johnny and Keith found the squarejammed, but the latter led the way by devious alleys to the rear of theMonumental headquarters, and so out to a little second-story balcony. 

Below them the faces of the packed mass of humanity showed white in the dimlight from the street lamps and the buildings. Arms gleamed. Every rooftop, every window, every balcony was crowded. From the latter vehementorators held forth. All wanted to talk at once. Some of these people were, as our chronicler of the time quaintly expresses it, "considerably tight. "Keith looked them all over with an appraising eye, listening at the sametime to incendiary speeches advising the battering down of the jail and thehanging of all its inmates. Occasionally one of the cooler headed would getin a few words, but invariably was interrupted by some well-meaning hothead. 

There seemed to be a great diversity of opinion both among the people onthe balcony and those below. Keith listened attentively for a time, then, with the abruptness that had characterized his movements and decisionssince the moment he had heard the news of King's assassination, he turnedaway. 

"Let's go, " he said briefly. 

"Oh, hold on!" cried Johnny, aghast. "It's just the shank of the evening!We'll miss all the fun. "

"There'll be nothing done, " said Keith with decision. 

"I'm more in hopes, " persisted Johnny. "I'll bet there are ten thousand menhere, armed and angry, and getting angrier every minute. They could fairlyeat up that lot at the jail. "

"They won't, " said Keith. 

"I'll bet one good man could turn them loose in a minute. "

Suddenly Keith's dour taciturnity broke. "You're perfectly right, " heconceded; "but the point is that good men won't lead a rabble. If we're tohave good leaders we must have something for them to lead. If we're to curethese conditions, we must do things in due order. This cannot be remediedby mere excitement nor by deeds done under excitement. I have not yet seenanything that promises either satisfaction or reform. "

"What do you propose doing, then?" asked Johnny, his intuitions againsatisfying him that here was the man to tie to. 

"Walk about, " replied Keith. 

They walked about. In the course of the evening they looked in on a dozenmeetings of which they had news--in the Pioneer Club, in rooms over the oldBella Union, in a saloon off Montgomery Street, at the offices of variousmerchants. Keith looked carefully over the personnel of each of thesevarious meetings, listened a minute or so, and went out. By some of the menso gathered Johnny was quite impressed, but Keith shook his head. 

"These meetings are being held by clubs or cliques, " he explained hisdisbelief in them. "They influence a certain following, but not a generalfollowing. This must be a general movement or none at all. The right peoplehaven't taken hold. "

About midnight he unexpectedly announced that he was going home and tobed. Johnny was frankly scandalized, "I think nothing will happen in this matter, " said Keith, "The time for mob violence has passed. If an attack were now to be made, Ishould consider it unfortunate, and should not want to be mixed up in it, anyway. A mob attack is nothing but a manifestation of sheer lawlessness. "

"And you're keen for the dear law, of course, " said Johnny with sarcasm. 

"There is a difference between mere laws and the law. There is a time--either here or coming soon--when laws may be broken that justice may bedone. But no popular movement will succeed unless it has behind it thesolemn, essential human law. Good-night. "

LIV

On this same afternoon of King's assassination Nan Keith, was expectingSansome in for tea. Afternoon tea was then an exotic institution, practically unknown in California society. Ben Sansome was about the onlyman of Nan's acquaintance who took it as a matter of course, without eitherawkwardness, embarrassment, or ill-timed jest. The day had been fine, andseveral times she had regretted her promise as she cast an eye at the glowover the gilt-edged tops of the western hills. The sunset through theGolden Gate must to-day be very fine. 

And Ben Sansome had failed her! She had made certain little especialpreparations--picked flowers, herself cut the sandwiches thin, put on hermost becoming tea gown. As time passed she became more and more annoyed. She was disappointed not so much at the absence of Ben Sansome as a personas at the waste of her efforts. 

But at six o'clock, when she had given him up, and was about to change fromher tea gown, he came in, full of apologies, very flustered, and burstingwith news. 

"King was shot on the street by Casey, " he told her, trying notunsuccessfully for his habitual detached manner. "I stopped to get the newsfor you. King is not dead, but probably fatally wounded. Casey is in jail. There is a great public excitement--a mob is forming. I've been expectingsomething of the sort. King has been pretty free with his comments. "

At seven o'clock Nan jumped to her feet in a sudden panic. 

"Why, I wonder where Milton is!" she cried. "He's never been so late asthis before!"

"He's probably stayed downtown to follow the course of the excitement. Naturally he would. He may not get home to supper at all. "

Wing Sam announced supper. He was unheeded. Even Gringo, his ears cocked, watched the door, getting up uneasily, whining, sniffing inquiringly, andlying down again. At half-past seven Sansome firmly intervened. 

"You're going to make yourself ill, " he insisted, "if you don't eatsomething. I am hungry, anyway, and I'm not going to leave you until hecomes back. "

"Oh, you must be starved! How thoughtless I am!" she cried. 

Sansome, who, it must be confessed, had been somewhat chagrined at theapparent intensity of her anxiety, was, within the next two hours, considerably reassured. Nan never did things halfway. For the moment shehad forgotten her guest. He was certainly very kind, very thoughtful--asalways--to stay here with her. She must not oppress his spirits. But theinner tension was terrible. She felt that shortly something must snap. Andafter supper, when they had returned to the drawing-room, a queer, low, growling, distant roar, borne on a chance shift of wind, broke one of hersentences in the middle. 

"What's that?" she cried, but before Sansome had replied, she knew what Itwas, the roar of the mob! And Milton was somewhere there!

Suddenly a wave of reaction swept her, of anger. Why was he there? Whywasn't he at home? Why had he made no attempt to relieve her cruel anxiety?A messenger--it would have been very simple! And Ben Sansome was so kind--as always. She turned to him with a new decision. 

"I know you are dying to go see what is going on, " she said. "You simplymust not stay here any longer on my account. I insist! Indeed, I think I'llgo to bed. " But Ben Sansome, his manner becoming almost caressinglyprotective, would not listen. 

"It isn't safe to leave you alone, " he told her. "All the worst elements ofthe city will be out. No woman should be left alone in times of suchdanger. I should feel most uneasy at leaving you before your husband comesin. "

His words were correct enough, but he managed to convey his opinion that hewas only fulfilling what should have been Keith's first and manifest duty. She made no reply. The conversation languished and died. They sat in thelamplight opposite each other, occasionally exchanging a word or so. Sansome was content and enjoying himself. He conceived that the stars werefighting for him, and he was enjoying the hour. Nan, a prey alternately toalmost uncontrollable fits of anxiety and flaming resentment, could hardlysit still. 

About midnight Gringo pricked up his ears and barked sharply. A momentlater Keith came in. 

He was evidently dead tired and wholly preoccupied. He hung up his hatabsently. Nan had sprung to her feet. 

"Oh, how could you!" she cried, the pent exasperation in her voice. "I'vebeen so anxious! I didn't know what might have happened!"

"I'm all right, " replied Keith briefly. "Sorry you were worried. No chanceto send you word. "

His apparent indifference added fuel to Nan's irritation. 

"If it hadn't been for Ben, I should have been stark, staring crazy, hereall alone!". 

Keith for the first time appeared to notice Sansome's presence. He noddedat him wearily. 

"Mighty good of you, " said he. "I appreciate it. "

"I thought _some_ man ought to be in the house at a time of such publicexcitement, " rejoined Sansome significantly. 

Keith failed to catch, or elected not to notice, the implication. Nan'scheeks turned red. 

Without further remark Keith walked across to lock the window; returning, he extinguished a small lamp on the side table. He was tired out, knew hemust be up early, and wanted above everything to get to bed. The hint wassufficiently obvious. Sansome rose. Nan's flush deepened withmortification. 

"Well, I'll just run along, " said Sansome cheerfully. He did not ask fornews of the evening, nor did Keith volunteer it. Keith nodded at himbriefly and indifferently. He did not mean to be rude, but his wearied mindwas filled to the exclusion of everything else with the significance ofthis day. 

Nan, feeling that she must make amends, followed Sansome into the hall. Heranxiety for Keith's safety relieved, her whole reaction was indignantlytoward Sansome. 

"I'm sorry to have you go, " she said, with a feeling that othercircumstances could not have called out, "I don't know what I'd have donewithout you!"

Sansome's sensitive intuitions thrilled to the feeling. 

"Your husband is here to take care of you--now, " he murmured. "I must beoff. " He took her hand, and bent over her, gazing into her eyes with theconcentration of a professional hypnotist, "Good-night, " he said, with aworld of unexpressed meaning. "Try to get some sleep--Nan, " He said hername in a lower tone, almost lingeringly, then turned abruptly and wentout. 

Nan stood looking for a moment at the closed door. The effect of hispersonality was on her spirit, the mantle of his care for her, hisconsideration for her every mood, wrapped her about gratefully. 

She found the lights all out, and Keith already half undressed. 

"I must say, Milton, " she said, "you might have been a little less rude toMr. Sansome. It would have only been decent after he had sat up here untilall hours. "

Keith, whose wide eyes would have showed him to be wholly preoccupied withsome inner vision or problem, answered impatiently from the surface of hismind:

"What in the world did I do to Sansome?"

"You didn't do anything, that's the trouble. Do you realize he waited hereover six hours for you to come in?"

"Oh, I guess he'll pull through, " said Keith a little contemptuously. 

Nan became indignant. 

"At least, " she retorted, "you ought to be grateful that he stayed toprotect the place!"

"The place was in no danger, " said Keith, yawning. 

She checked herself, and made a fresh start. 

"What's it all about? What's happened? Where have you been?" she asked. 

Keith roused himself with an effort. 

"I've been a little of everywhere. Lord, I'm tired! There's a mob abouttrying to get up nerve to hang Casey. I suppose you've heard that Caseyshot King this afternoon?"

"Yes, I heard that. "

"Well, when I saw nothing was going to happen, I came home, though I'm notsure the trouble is over. "

Having said this, Keith fell gratefully to his pillow. Nan was nervous, wide-awake, curious. She asked a number of questions. Keith answered withextreme brevity. He was temporarily exhausted. Shortly he fell asleepbetween two sentences. 

LV

The following morning Keith woke early, slipped to the kitchen where he wasfed by Wing Sam, and was downtown before Nan, who had not so promptlyfallen asleep, had yet stirred. Even at that hour the streets were crowded. Many--and the majority of these were "considerably tight, " or otherwiselooking the worse for wear--had been up all night, unable to tearthemselves away from the fascinating centres of excitement. The majority, however, had, like Keith, snatched some repose, and now were out eager todiscover what a new day might bring forth. 

The morning newspapers had been issued. Each man held a copy of one of themopen at the editorial column, and others tucked away under his arm. Neverhad there been such a circulation; and in the case of the _Herald_ neverwould so many be sold again. For that ill-starred sheet, mistaking utterlythe times, held boldly along the way of its sympathies. It spoke of theassassination as an "affray"; held forth violently against the mob spiritof the evening before; and stated vehemently its opinion that, now that"Justice is regularly administered" there was no excuse for even the threatof public violence. If there had been any doubt as to the depth to whichpublic opinion was at last stirred, the reception of the _Herald's_editorial would have settled it. Actually, for the moment, indignationseemed to run more strongly against that sheet than against Casey himself. 

Keith glanced over this editorial with a half smile, tossed the paper inthe gutter, and opened the _Alta_ for news. King, still living, had beenremoved from the office of the Express Company to a room in the MontgomeryBlock. There, attended by his wife, Dr. Beverly Cole, and a whole corps ofvolunteer physicians, he was making a fight for life. The bullet hadpenetrated his left breast. That was all that was to be reported atpresent. Keith glanced at the third page. His eye was caught by thisnotice:

THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEE

The members of the Vigilance Committee in good standing will please meet atNo. 105-1/2 Sacramento Street, this day, Thursday, 15th instant, at nineo'clock A. M. 

By order of the

COMMITTEE OF THIRTEEN. 

While he was still gazing thoughtfully at this Johnny Fairfax, fresh as themorning, appeared at his elbow. 

"Hello, wise man, " he greeted him cheerily. "You were a good prophet--andyou got some sleep. I hung around all night, but nothing new was done. "

"Look here, " said Keith, placing his finger on the notice, "do you supposethis genuine?"

Johnny read the notice. 

"Couldn't say. "

"Because if this is actually the old Committee of '51, it means business. "

"There's one way to find out. "

"How's that?"

"Go and see, " advised Johnny. 

Number 105-1/2 Sacramento Street proved to be a big three-storied barnlikestructure that had been built by a short-lived political party called theKnow Nothings. Already the hall was packed to its full capacity, theentrance ways jammed, and a big crowd had gathered in the streets. 

"Fine chance we have here!" observed Johnny ruefully. 

They stood well free of the press for a few moments, watching. More menwere coming from all directions. But Johnny was resourceful, and likewiserestless. 

"Let's prowl around a little, " he suggested to his companion. 

They prowled to such good purpose that they discovered, at the rear of thebuilding, opening into a blind alley, a narrow wooden stairway. It wasunguarded and untenanted. 

"Here we are, " pronounced Johnny. 

They ascended it, and immediately found themselves In a small room back ofthe stage or speaker's platform, It contained about a score of men. Theiraspect was earnest, serious, grave. Although there was a sufficiency ofchairs, they were all afoot, gathered in a loose group, in whose centrestood William Coleman, his massive shoulders squared, his large bony, handsclenched at his side, his florid complexion even more flushed than usual, his steady eye travelling slowly from one face to another, Again thestrange contradictions in, his appearance struck Keith with the impact of adistinct shock--the low smoothed hair, the sweeping blue-black moustache, the vivid colour, and high cheek bones of the typical gambler--the cleareye, firm mouth, incisive, deliberate speech, the emanation of personalitythat inspired confidence. Next him, talking earnestly, stood ClanceyDempster, a small man, mild of manner, blue eyed, with light, smooth hair, the last man in the room one would have picked for great firmness andcourage, yet destined to play one of the leading rôles in this crisis. Thegigantic merchant, Truett, towered above him, he who had calmly held twofighting teamsters apart by their collars; and homely, stubborn, honestFarwell, direct, uncompromising, inspired with tremendous single-mindedearnestness, but tender as a girl to any under dog; and James Dows, roughand ready, humorous, blasphemous, absolutely direct, endowed with "horsesense, " eccentric, but of fundamentally good judgment: Hossfros of '51; Dr. Beverly Cole, high spirited, distinguished looking, courtly; the excitable, active, nervous, talkative, but staunch Tom Smiley, Isaac Blucome whosesignature as "33, Secretary" was to become terrible; fiery little GeorgeWard, willing--but unable--to whip his weight in wild cats. As Keithrecognized these men, and others of their stamp, he nodded his headcontentedly. 

Johnny Fairfax must have caught the same impression, for he leaned acrossto whisper to Keith, his eyes shining:

"We've hit it!"

Their entrance had passed unnoticed in the absorption of discussion. Coleman was speaking, evidently in final decision. 

"It is a serious business, " said he. "It is no child's play. It may provevery serious. We may get through quickly, so safely, or we may so involveourselves as never to get through. "

"The issue is not of choice, but of expediency, " urged Dempster. "Shall wehave vigilance with order or a mob with anarchy?"

Coleman pondered a moment, then threw up his head. 

"On two conditions I will accept the responsibility--absolute obedience, absolute secrecy. "

Without waiting for a reply to this he threw open a door, and followed bythe others, stepped out on the platform. A roar greeted their appearance. Johnny and Keith, remaining modestly in the background, lingered near theopen door. 

The hall was filled to its utmost capacity. Every inch of floor space wasoccupied, and men perched on sills, clung to beams. Coleman raised his handand obtained an immediate dead silence. 

"In view of the miscarriage of justice in the courts, " he announcedbriefly, "it has been thought expedient to revive the Vigilance Committee. An Executive Council was chosen by a representative of the whole body. Ihave been asked to take charge. I will do so, but must stipulate that I amto be free to choose the first council myself. Is that agreed?"

A roar of assent answered him. 

"Very well, gentlemen. I shall request you to vacate the hall. In a shorttime the books will be open for enrollment. "

He turned and reëntered the anteroom followed by the others. In so doing hecame face to face with the intruders. 

"This is not your place, gentlemen, " he told them courteously. 

They retired down the narrow back stairs and joined the huge throng thatfilled the streets, waiting patiently and quietly, its eyes fixed on theclosed doors of the hall. In a remarkably short time these doors werethrown open. Those nearest surged forward. Inside the passage were twelvemen, later to be known as the Executive Committee. These held back therush, admitting but one man at a time. The crowd immediately caught theidea. There was absolutely no excitement. Every man was grimly in earnest. Cries of "Order! Order! Line up!" came from different parts of the throng. A rough quadruple queue was formed extending down the street. There was notalk nor smiles, none of the usual rough joking. Each waited his turnwithout impatience. 

Johnny Fairfax and Keith, owing to the chance that they had, entered thecrowd from the nearby alley and found themselves close to the head of theline. As they neared the entrance, and so could hear what was there goingon, they found that each applicant was being closely scrutinized andinterrogated. The great majority passed this ordeal, but several men wereperemtorily turned back with a warning not to try again. 

Keith's turn came. He was conscious of the scrutiny of many eyes; he heardthe word "pass" pronounced by some one in the background, and climbed thestairs. At the top he was directed to an anteroom at the left. Here behinda table sat Coleman, Dempster, and a third man unknown to him. To them herepeated the words of an oath of secrecy, and then was passed into anotherroom where Isaac Bluxome sat behind a ledger. In this he wrote his name. 

"Your number is 178, " said Bluxome to him, "By that number, and not by yourname, you are henceforth to be known here. Never use names, always theirnumbers, in referring to other members. "

Thence Keith was directed to the main hall where were those alreadyadmitted. These were gathered in groups discussing the situation. In amoment Johnny Fairfax joined him. 

"179, I am, " said Johnny. His eyes swept the hall. "Not much mob spiritabout this; it looks like business. "

They hung around for an hour. The hall slowly filled. Finally, learningthat nothing further was to be done until the enrollment had finished, theywandered out again into the street. The unbroken lines of applicantsextended as far down the street as the eye could see. 

All that day the applicants, orderly and grim with purpose, were passedthrough in line. By mid-day it was seen that the Know-Nothing Hall wasgoing to be too small for the meeting that would later take place. Therefore, a move was made to the Turnverein Hall. After enrolling, no mandeparted from the vicinity for long. Short absences for hastily snatchedmeals were followed by hurried returns lest something be missed. From timeto time reports were circulated as to the activities of the ExecutiveCommittee, which had been in continuous session since its appointment. Thusit was said that an Examining Committee had been appointed to scrutinizethe applicants; that the members of the Executive Committee had been raisedto twenty-six, that Oscar Smith had been appointed chief of police. Thelatter rumour was immediately verified by the energetic activities of thatable citizen. He, or his messengers, darted here and there searching forindividuals wanted as doorkeepers, guards, or police officers. Hisregulations also began to be felt. By evening only registered members ofthe committee were allowed on the floor of the hall, even the expostulatingreporters being gently but firmly ejected. 

Nobody manifested the least excitement or impatience. At eight o'clockColeman came out of one of the side rooms, and, mounting a table, calledfor order. 

"A military organization is deemed necessary, " he said crisply. "Numbersone to one hundred will please assemble in the southwest corner of theroom; numbers one hundred and one to two hundred will take the firstwindow; numbers two hundred and one to three hundred the second window, andso on. " He hesitated and looked over the assembly. "_Que les Français, semettent au centre_, " he ended. 

This command in a foreign language was made necessary by the extraordinarynumber of Frenchmen who had first answered the call of gold in the ElDorado of '49; and then with equal enthusiasm responded to this demand foressential justice. 

Coleman waited while the multitude shifted here and there. When thecomponent parts had again come to rest he made his next announcement:

"Now each company will elect its own officers, but those officers aresubject to the orders of the Executive Committee. "

Numbers one hundred and one to two hundred inclusive, the company in whichKeith and Johnny Fairfax found themselves, were for the most part strangersto one another, They exchanged glances, hesitating as to how to begin. Thena small, spectacled, man spoke up. 

"Gentlemen, " said he, "we must get organized as rapidly as possible, Mr, Coleman is waiting. We need for a leader a man who is experienced in activelife. I nominate John Fairfax as captain of this company. "

Johnny gasped and turned red. 

"Who's your little friend?" Keith whispered. 

"Never saw him before in my life, " replied Johnny. 

The announcement was received with indecision. Nobody immediately repliedor commented aloud on the nomination, but men were asking each other inundertones. The little spectacled man saw this, and spoke up again:

"Perhaps I should say that Mr. Fairfax is better known as Diamond Jack. "

Faces cleared, heads nodded. A murmur of recognition replaced the puzzledfrowning, "Good man, " "The express rider, " "Danny Randall's man, " they toldeach other. 

"I do not know Mr. Fairfax, " the spectacled man was saying, "but I saw hisname just before mine on the register. "

"This is Fairfax, " said Keith, thrusting the reluctant Johnny forward. 

He was elected to the post by acclamation. 

"Nominations for a lieutenant?" suggested the spectacled man, but Keithinterrupted. 

"If you all have as much confidence in Mr. Fairfax as I have, " said he, "perhaps you'll give him free hand and let him pick his own officers. "

This seemed a good idea, and was instantly adopted. 

"Well, I thank you, gentlemen, " said Johnny, "and we'll do our best tobecome efficient. Report your names and addresses to this gentleman here--"

"Willey, " supplied the little man. 

"We shall drill to-morrow at eight sharp. Bring whatever weapons----"

But Coleman was again speaking and on this very subject:

"The committee have arranged with George Law, " he was saying, "to supply orhire muskets to the number of several thousands. These weapons will be atthis hall to-morrow morning early. Company captains can then make theirrequisitions. "

A murmur of inquiry swept the hall. "George Law? Where did _he_ get severalthousand muskets?" And the counter current of information making its wayslowly--they were only flintlocks, perfectly efficient though, hadbayonets--superseded government arms--brought out some time ago by Law toarm some mysterious filibustering expedition that had fizzled. 

In this manner, without confusion, an organization of two thousand men wasformed, sixteen military companies officered and armed. 

Shortly after Coleman dismissed the meeting. Its members dispersed to theirhomes. Absolute quiet descended on the city, which slept under the moon. 

LVI

To the thoughtful bystander all this preparation had its significance andits portent, which became the stronger when he contemplated thedispositions of the Law and Order party. The latter had been not lessvigorous, and its strength could not be doubted. The same day that markedthe organization of the Vigilantes saw the regular police force largelyincreased. In addition, the sheriff issued thousands of summonses tocitizens, calling on them for service on a _posse_. These were in due formof the law. To refuse them meant to put one's self outside the law. A greatmany of them were responded to, for this reason only, by men not wholly insympathy with either side. Once the oath was administered, these newdeputies were confronted by the choice between perjury and service. To besure the issuance of these summonses forced many of the neutral minded intothe ranks of the Vigilantes. The refusal to act placed them on the wrongside of the law; and they felt that joining a party pledged to whatpractically amounted to civil war was only a short step farther. Thevarious military companies were mustered, reminded of their oaths, calledupon solemnly to fulfil their sworn duty, and marched to various strategicpoints about the jail and elsewhere. Parenthetically, their everyappearance on the streets was well hissed by the populace. The governor wasinformally notified of a state of insurrection, and requested to send inthe State militia. By evening all the forces of organized society wereunder arms. The leaders of the Law and Order party were jubilant. Theirposition appeared to be impregnable. They felt that back of them was allthe weight of constituted authority, reaching, if need be, to the FederalGovernment at Washington. Opposed to them was lawlessness. Lawlessness hadoccasionally become dignified revolution, to be sure, but only when a racetook its stand on a great issue; never when a handful espoused a localquarrel. Civil war it might be; but civil war, the wise politicians argued, must spread to become effective; and how could a civil war based on theshooting of an obscure editor in a three-year-old frontier town spreadanywhere? Especially such an editor as James King of William. 

For King had made many bitter enemies. In attacking individual members of aclass he had often unreasonably antagonized the whole class. Thus he hadjustly castigated the _Times_ and other venal newspapers; but in so doinghad by his too general statements drawn the fire of every other journal intown. He had with entire reason attacked a certain scalawag of a RomanCatholic priest--a man the church itself must soon have taken in hand--buthad somehow managed to offend all Roman Catholics in doing so; likewise, there could be no question that his bitter scorn for "the chivalry" waswell justified, but the manner of its expression offended also the decentSoutherners. And all these people saw the Vigilantes, not as a protestagainst a condition that had become intolerable, but as the personalchampions of King. The enemies of King, many of them worthy citizens, quiteout of sympathy with the present methods of administering the law, becamethe enemies of the Vigilantes. 

No wonder the Law and Order party felt no uneasiness. They did notunderestimate the determination of their opponents. It was felt thatfighting, severe fighting, was perhaps inevitable. The Law and Order partyloved fighting. They had chosen as their commander William TecumsehSherman, later to gain his fame as a great soldier. His greatness in amilitary capacity seems to have been exceeded only by his inability toremember facts proved elsewhere by original historical documents. This isthe only possible explanation for the hash of misstatements comprisingthose chapters in his "Memoirs" dealing with this time. In writing them theworthy general evidently forgot that original documents existed, or thatstatements concerning historical events can often be checked. 

And as a final source of satisfaction, the Vigilantes had placed themselveson record. Every man could be apprehended and made to feel the weight ofthe law. A mob is irresponsible and anonymous. These fools had written downtheir names in books!

LVII

Now a new element was injected into the situation in the person of thegovernor of the State, one J. Neely Johnson, a politician who would longsince have been utterly forgotten had not his unlucky star risen just atthis unlucky time. A more unfortunate man for a crisis it would have beendifficult to find. His whole life had been one of trimming; he had made hisway by trimming; he had gained the governor's chair by yielding to theopinions of others. This training combined perfectly with the naturaldisposition of a chameleon. He was, or became, a sincere trimmer, takinghis colour and his temporary beliefs from those with whom he happened tobe. His judgment often stuck at trifles, and his opinions were quicklyheated but as quickly cooled. His private morals were none of the best, which gave certain men an added hold. 

On receipt of the message sent by the Law and Order party--but not, be itnoted, by the proper authorities--requesting the State militia, GovernorJohnson came down post-haste from Sacramento. Immediately on arriving inthe city he sent word to Coleman requesting an interview. Coleman at oncefollowed the messenger to the Continental Hotel. He was shown to a privateroom where he found Johnson pacing up and down alone. Coleman bowed gravelyin response to the governor's airy greeting. Johnson sat down, offeredcigars, made every effort to appear amiable and conciliatory. 

"This is bad; this is bad, Coleman, " he began the interview. "What is ityou want?"

"Peace, " replied Coleman, "and if possible without a struggle. "

"That's all very well, " said Johnson pettishly, "to talk about peace withan army of insurrection newly raised. But what is it you actually wish toaccomplish?"

Coleman looked at him steadily, then leaned forward. 

"The law is crippled, " he told the governor in measured tones. "We wantmerely to accomplish what the crippled law should do but cannot. This done, we will gladly retire. Now, Governor, you have been asked by the mayor, andcertain others, to bring out the militia and crush this movement. I assureyou, it cannot be done; and if you attempt it, it will cause you and usgreat trouble. Do as Governor McDougall did in '51. See in this movementwhat he saw in that: a local movement for a local reform, in which theState is not concerned. We are not a mob; we demand no overthrow ofinstitutions. We ask not a single court to adjourn; we ask not a singleofficer to vacate his position; we demand only the enforcement of the law--which, after all, we have made!" He extended his strong fist and laid it onthe table. "If you deem it the conscientious duty of your office todiscountenance these proceedings--as perhaps you well may--then let youropposition be in appearance only. In your heart you must know the necessityof this measure; you know the standing of the men managing it, You knowthat this is no mob, no distempered faction. It is San Francisco herselfwho speaks! Let California stand aside; let her leave us to our shame andsorrow; for, as God lives, we will cleanse this city of her corruption orperish with her! So we have sworn!"

This long speech, delivered with the solemnity of absolute conviction, profoundly impressed Johnson's volatile nature. 

"But, " he objected uncertainly, "Coleman, you must understand! This isagainst the law--and I have sworn to uphold the law!"

"That is a matter for your own conscience, " rejoined Coleman a littleimpatiently. "Issue your proclamation, if you feel that the dignity of thelaw may be best maintained by frowning on justice--but confine yourself tothat! Leave us alone in our righteous purposes!"

Johnson, his chameleon soul aglow with enthusiasm, leaped to his feet andseized Coleman's two hands. In his eye stood a tear. 

"Sir, " he cried, "go on with your work! Let it be done as speedily aspossible! You have my best wishes!"

Coleman did not relax his formal gravity. 

"I am glad you feel that way, and that we understand each other, " hecontented himself with saying. 

The heroic moment past, Johnson's restless mind began to glance amonganxieties. 

"But hasten the undertaking as much as you can, " he begged. "The oppositionis stronger than you suppose. The pressure on me is going to be terrible. What about the prisoners in the jail?" asked Johnson anxiously. "What isyour immediate plan?"

"That is in the hands of the committee, " evaded Coleman. 

He left the governor, again pacing up and down. 

LVIII

Coleman returned at once to the hall to resume his interrupted labours withthe committee. The results of his conference with the governor seemed verysatisfactory, "We can now go ahead with free minds, " said Clancey Dempster. 

The business was astonishingly varied in scope. Charles Doane--not to beconfused with Duane, the ex-fire chief--was appointed military commander-in-chief; Colonel Johns, captain of artillery; Olney was given the task ofguarding the jail from the outside "with a force numerous enough to preventescape. " After considerable discussion Aaron Burns was made head of acivilian committee to take charge of all prisoners. It was moved andcarried that no city or county official should be admitted to membership, astriking commentary on the disesteem in which such men were held. Permanentheadquarters were arranged for; committees appointed for the solicitationof funds. A dozen other matters of similar detail were taken up, intelligently discussed, and provided for with the celerity of men trainedin crises of business or life. At length it was moved the "committee, as abody, shall visit the county jail at such time as the Executive Committeemight direct; and take thence James P. Casey and Charles Cora, give them afair trial, and administer such punishment as justice shall demand. "

This was the real business, for the transaction of which all these lesserbusinesses had been prepared. A slight pause followed its introduction, asthough each member present were savouring the significance of the moment. 

"Are you ready for the question?" asked Coleman in grave tones. "Those infavour----"

"Aye, " came the instant response from every man present. 

A messenger opened the door to announce that Governor Johnson was in theanteroom requesting speech with Coleman. The latter, handing his gavel toDempster, immediately answered the summons. 

He found Johnson, accompanied by Sherman, Garrison, and two strangers, lounging in the anteroom. The governor sprawled in a chair, his hat pulledover his eyes, a cigar in the corner of his mouth. His companions arose andbowed gravely as Coleman entered the room, but he remained seated, noddingat Coleman with an air of cavalier bravado that was plainly intended toconceal his nervousness. Without waiting for the exchange of spokengreetings, he burst out:

"We have come to ask what you intend to do, " he demanded truculently ofColeman, as though he had never seen or talked to him before. 

Coleman stared at him for an instant, completely surprised; read him; sethis mouth grimly. 

"Outrages are of constant occurrence, " he recited briefly; "our suffragesare profaned, our fellow-citizens shot down in the street, our courtsafford us no redress, we will endure it no longer. "

"I agree with you as to the grievances, " rejoined the governor, almost asthough reciting a learned lesson; "but I think the courts are the properremedy. The judges are good men, and there is no necessity for the peopleto turn themselves into a mob and obstruct the execution of the laws. "

A flush mounted Coleman's cheek. 

"Sir!" he cried indignantly, "this is no mob! You know this is no mob!"

Johnson looked at him from between half-closed lids, as though from a greatdistance. 

"The opposition is stronger than you imagine, " he said. "There is danger tothe city--great danger of bloodshed--which should be prevented ifpossible. " He paused, focussed his whole attention on Coleman, and went onwith deliberate significance: _"It may be necessary to bring out all theforce at my command. _ I strongly advise you to leave the case of Casey tothe courts; and I pledge myself to his fair and speedy trial. "

Although realizing fully what a formidable element this change of frontthrew into the situation, Coleman's expression did not change: Sherman, watching him closely, could not see that his eyes even flickered, "That will not satisfy the people, " he told the governor, coldly andformally. "However they might consider your intention, they will doubt yourability to keep such a promise, " He was going to say more, but checked, himself abruptly. The silent but intent attitude of the governor's fourcompanions had struck his attention. "They are present as witnesses!" hetold himself. Aloud he said, "Sir, I will report your remarks to myassociates, " Coleman wanted witnesses, too. 

He returned to the committee, interrupting the proceedings, "The governor has flopped over the fence. " he informed them. "He is outthere with Sherman and some others threatening to bring in the State troopsunless we turn Casey over to the courts and disband. He personallyguarantees a fair and speedy trial. "

"What did you tell him?" demanded Hossfros. 

"I haven't told him anything. It suddenly occurred to me that I ought tohave witnesses for my side of the conversation, What do you think?"

"Same as I've always thought, " replied Ward. 

A murmur of assent greeted this. 

After a remarkably brief discussion, considering the delicacy of thecrisis, Coleman with others returned to the anteroom. 

"Sorry to have kept you waiting, " he said blandly, "but some considerationof the question was necessary. Let us understand each other clearly. As Iunderstand your proposal, it is that, if we make no move, you guarantee noescape, immediate trial, and instant execution?"

"That is it, " agreed Johnson, after a moment's focussing of his mind. Forthe first time it became evident to Coleman that the man had a trifle toomuch aboard. 

"We doubt your ability to do this, " went on Coleman, "but we are ready tomeet you halfway. This is what we will promise: we will take no stepswithout first giving you notice. But in return we insist that ten men ofour own selection shall be added to the sheriff's force within the jail. "

"And, " added Isaac Bluxome, "that they be fed and kept and treated well. That's part of the bargain. "

"Why, that sounds fair and reasonable, gentlemen!" the governor criedheartily. "I see no objection to that! I was sure we could come to anagreement!"

He was suddenly all cordiality, all smiles, shaking each man's hand inturn. His companions retained their manner of glacial formality, however. He shortly withdrew, full of spirits, very much relieved at the lifting ofwhat seemed to him a cloud of unjust oppression for a poor official whomerely wanted peace. The real situation, evident enough to the keenerbrains on either side, was veiled to him. For poor Johnson had thus farstepped from one blunder into another. If Coleman were completely outsidethe law, then he, as an executive of the law, had no business treating ormaking agreements with him at all. Furthermore, as executive of the State, he had no legal right to interfere with city affairs unless formallysummoned by the authorities--a procedure that had not been adopted. And tocap it all, he had for the second time treated with "rebels" and to theiradvantage. For, as the astute Coleman well knew, the final agreement wasall to the benefit of the committee. They gained the right to place apersonal guard over the prisoners; they gave, practically, only a promiseto withdraw that guard before attacking the jail--a procedure eminentlysensible if they cared anything for the guard. 

This little weakness was immediately and vigorously pointed out to Johnsonwhen he returned triumphantly to his hotel. Keen minds were plenty in theLaw and Order party. Johnson was crestfallen. Like all men of littlecalibre elevated by expediency to high office, he wanted above everythingto have peace, to leave things as they were, to avoid friction. 

"Upon my word, gentlemen!" cried the governor, dismayed, "I did it for thebest; and I assure you I am still convinced that this agreement--enteredinto in all faith, and sincerity----"

"Bosh!" boomed Judge Caldwell. 

"I beg your pardon!" said Johnson, flushing. 

"I said 'bosh, '" repeated the judge, bringing the point of his cane againstthe floor. "You've muddied it, as every sensible man can see. Best thing isto put a bold face on it. Take it for granted that the committee haspromised to surrender all right of action, and that they have promiseddefinitely to leave the case to the courts. "

"I hardly think they intended that, " murmured Johnson. 

"Meant!" snorted the judge. "The words will bear that interpretation, won'tthey? Who cares what they meant!"

The following morning this version was industriously passed about. WhenColeman heard of it he pulled his long moustache, "The time has come, " he said with decision. "After that, it is eitherourselves or a mob. "

He went immediately to the hall. 

"Call Olney, " he told a messenger. The head of the guard was soon beforehim. 

"Olney, " said his chief, "will you accept the command of a picked companyin an important but somewhat perilous movement?"

Olney's tall form stiffened with pleasure. 

"I will--with thanks!"

"Well, then, pick out from all the forces, of whatever companies, sixtymen. Accept none but men--of the very highest bravery. Let them know thatthey are chosen for the post of danger, which is the post of honour, andpermit none to serve who does not so esteem it. "

Olney saluted, and went at once to the main floor, which, for drillingpurposes, was shared by four companies. He stood still until his eye fellon Johnny Fairfax--him he called aside. 

"You can get the whole sixty right here if you want to, " Johnny told him. "But if you want to distribute things----"

"I do, " said Olney. 

"Then I'd take Keith, Carter, that teamster McGlynn, and Salisbury. "

Together they went the rounds of the impromptu armouries, going carefullyover the rolls, picking a man here and there. By eight o'clock the sixty, informed, equipped, and ready, were gathered at the hall. Olney dismissedall others, and set himself to drilling his picked body. 

"I don't care whether you can do 'shoulder arms' or not, " he said, "butyou've got to learn simple evolutions so I can handle you. And you mustlearn one another's faces. Now, come on!"

At two o'clock in the morning he expressed himself as satisfied. From thestock of blankets with which the headquarters were already provided theyselected, bedding, and turned in on the floor. At six o'clock Olney beganto send out detachments for breakfast. 

"Feed up, " he advised them. "I don't know what this is all about, but itpays to eat well. "

By eight o'clock every man was in his place, lined up to rigid attention asColeman entered the building. 

"There they are!" said Olney proudly. "Every man of them of good, toughcourage, and you can handle them as well as any old soldiers!"

Other men came into the hall, some of them in ranks, as they had fallen inat their own company headquarters outside, others singly or in groups. Doorkeepers prevented all exit; once a man was in, he was not permitted togo out. Some of the leaders and captains, among whom were Doane, Olney, andTalbot Ward, were summoned to Coleman's room. Shortly they emerged, andcirculated through the hall giving to each captain of a company detailedand explicit directions. Each was instructed as to what hour he and hiscommand were to start; from what given point; along exactly what route; andat exactly what time he was to arrive at another given point--not a momentsooner or later. Each was ignorant as to the instructions given the others. Never was a plan better laid out for concerted action, and probably neverbefore had such a plan been so well carried out. Each captain listenedattentively, returned to head his company, thoughtful with responsibility. 

Olney gave the orders to his picked, company in person. They were told toleave their muskets. Armed only with pistols, they were to make their wayby different routes to the jail. 

Keith, and Johnny Fairfax started out together, "This is a mistake, as faras I am concerned, " observed Keith to his companion. "I can't shoot apistol. I ought to be in the rank and file, not with this picked lot. Theychose me merely because I was your friend. "

"You can make a noise, anyway, " replied Johnny, whose eyes were alight withexcitement. "I wonder what's up? This looks like business! I wouldn't missit for a million dollars!"

Apparently the general populace had no inkling that anything was forward. The streets were much as usual except that an inordinate amount of street-corner discussion seemed to be going on; but that in view of thecircumstances was normal. A broad-beamed Irish woman, under full sail aloneaccosted them. Her face Keith vaguely recognized, but he could not havetold where he had seen it. 

"I hear Mr. King, God rest him, is better, " she said. "And what are the mengoing to do with that villain, Casey? If the men don't hang him, the womenwill!". 

A little farther Keith stopped short at sight of two men hurrying by. 

"Hold on, Watkins!" he called. 

The four of them drew aside a little, out of the way. 

"Weren't you in the jail guard?" asked Keith. 

Watkins nodded. 

"How does it happen you're outside?"

"The committee sent notice that the truce was over. "

Johnny uttered an exultant yell, which he cut short shamefacedly when adozen passersby looked around. 

LIX

It happened on this day that Nan Keith had refused an invitation to ridewith Ben Sansome, but had agreed as a compromise to give him a cup of tealate in the afternoon. Nan's mood was latterly becoming more and morerestless. It was an unconscious reflection of the times, unconsciousbecause she had no real conception of what was going on. In obedience toKeith's positively expressed request she had kept away from the downtowndistricts, leaving the necessary marketing to Wing Sam. For the moment, ashas been explained, her points of touch with society were limited. Ithappened that before the trouble began the Keiths had been subscribers tothe Bulletin and the Herald, and these two journals continued to bedelivered. Neither of them gave her much idea of what was really going on. For a moment her imagination was touched by the blank space of white paperthe Bulletin left where King's editorials had usually been printed, butThomas King's subsequent violence had repelled her. The Herald, afterrashly treating the "affray" as a street brawl, lost hundreds ofsubscribers and most of its advertising. It shrunk to a sheet a quarter ofits usual size. Naturally, its editor, John Nugent, was the more solidlyand bitterly aligned with the Law and Order party. The true importance ofthe revolt, either as an ethical movement or merely as regards itsphysical size, did not get to Nan at all. She knew the time was one ofturmoils and excitements. She believed the city in danger of mobs. Herattitude might be described as a mixture of fastidious disapproval and asympathetic restlessness. 

About the middle of the afternoon Mrs. Sherwood came up the front walk andrang the bell. Nan, sitting behind lace curtains, was impressed by her airof controlled excitement. Mrs. Sherwood hurried. She hurried gracefully, to be sure, and with a reminiscence of her usual feline indolence; but shehurried, nevertheless. Therefore, Nan herself answered the bell, insteadof awaiting the deliberate Wing Sam. 

"My dear, " cried Mrs. Sherwood, "get your mantle, and come with me. There's something going to happen-something big!"

She refused to answer Nan's questions. 

"You'll see, " was all the reply she vouchsafed. "Hurry!"

They crossed by the new graded streets where the sand hills had been, andsoon found themselves on the low elevations above the county jail. Mrs. Sherwood led the way to the porch of a onestory wooden house that appearedto be unoccupied. 

"This is fine!" she said with satisfaction. 

The jail was just below them, and they looked directly across the opensquare in front of it and the convergence of two streets. The jail wasbuzzing like a hive: men were coming and going busily, running away asthough on errands, or darting in through the open door. Armed men weretaking their places on the flat roof. 

In contrast to this one little spot of excited activity, the rest of thescene was almost superlatively peaceful. People were drifting in from allthe side streets, but they were sauntering slowly, as though withoutparticular interest; they might have been going to or coming from church. A warm, basking, Sunday feel was in the sunshine. There was not thefaintest breeze. Distant sounds carried clearly, as the barking of a dog--it might have been Gringo shut up at home--or the crowing of a distantcock. From the square below arose the murmur of a multitude talking. Thegroups of people increased in frequency, in numbers. Black forms began toappear on roof tops all about; white faces at windows. It would have beenimpossible to say when the scattered groups became a crowd; when the sideof the square filled; when the converging streets became black withclosely packed people; when the windows and doors and balconies, thecopings and railings, the slopes of the hills were all occupied, but so itwas. Before she fairly realized that many were gathering, Nan looked downon twenty thousand people. They took their positions quietly, and waited. There was no shouting, no demonstration, so little talking that the lowmurmur never rendered inaudible the barking of the dog or the crowing ofthe distant cock. The doors of the jail had closed. Men ceased going inand out. The armed forces on the roof were increased. 

Nan had left off asking questions of Mrs. Sherwood, who answered none. Thefeeling of tense expectation filled her also. What was forward? Was this amob? Why were these people gathered? Somehow they gave her the impressionthat they, too, like Mrs. Sherwood and herself, were waiting to see. 

After a long time she saw the closely packed crowd down the vista of oneof the converging streets move in the agitation of some disturbance. Amoment later the sun caught files of bayonets. At the same instant thesame thing happened at the end of the other converging street. The armedcolumns came steadily forward, the people giving way. Their men weredressed in sober citizens' clothes. The shining steel of the bayonetsfurnished the only touch of uniform. Quietly and steadily they cameforward, the snake of steel undulating and twisting like a living thing. The two columns reached the convergence of the street together. As theyentered the square before the jail, a third and fourth column debouchedfrom side streets, and others deployed into view on the hills behind. Thetiming was perfect. One minute the prospect was empty of all butspectators, the next it was filled with grim and silent armed men. 

Near the two women and among chance spectators on the piazza of thedeserted house a well-known character of the times leaned against one ofthe pillars. This was Colonel Gift. Our chronicler, who has an eye for thetelling phrase, describes him as "a tall, lank, empty-bowelled, tobacco-spurting Southerner, with eyes like burning black balls, who could talk acompany of listeners into an insane asylum quicker than any man inCalifornia, and whose blasphemy could not be equalled, either in quantityor quality, by the most profane of any age or nation. " In this crisisColonel Gift's sympathies may be guessed. He watched the scene below himwith a sardonic eye. As the armed columns wheeled into place and stood atattention, he turned to a man standing near. 

"I tell you, stranger, " said he, "when you see those damned psalm-singingYankees turn out of their churches, shoulder their guns, and march away ofa Sunday, you may know that hell is going to crack shortly!"

Mrs. Sherwood turned an amused eye in his direction. The colonel, for thefirst time becoming aware of her presence, swept off his black slouch hatand apologized profusely for the "damn. "

The armed men stood rigid, four deep all around the square. Behind themthe masses of the people watched. Even the murmur died. Again everybodywaited. 

Now, at a command, the ranks fell apart and from the side street marchedthe sixty men chosen by Olney dragging a field gun at the end of a rope. Their preliminary task of watching the jail for a possible escapefinished, they had been again gathered. With beautiful military precisionthey wheeled and came to rest facing the frowning walls of the jail, thecannon pointed at the door. 

Nan gasped sharply, and seized Mrs. Sherwood's arm with both hands. Shehad recognized Keith standing by the right wheel of the cannon. He waslooking straight ahead, and the expression on his face was one she hadnever seen there before. Suddenly something swelled up within her breastand choked her. The tears rushed to her eyes. 

Quite deliberately, each motion in plain sight, the cannon was loaded withpowder and ball. A man lit a slow match, blew it painstakingly to a glow, then took his position at the breech. The slight innumerable sounds ofthese activities died. The bustle of men moving imperceptibly fell. Noteven the coughing and sneezing usual to a gathering of people payingattention was heard, for the intense interest inhibited these nervoussymptoms. Probably never have twenty thousand people, gathered in oneplace, made their presence so little evident. A deep, solemn stillnessbrooded over them. The spring sun lay warm and grateful on men'sshoulders; the doves and birds, the distant dogs and roosters, cooed andtwittered, barked and crowed. 

Nothing happened for full ten minutes. The picked men stood rigid by thegun in the middle of the square; the slow match burned sleepily, a tinythread of smoke rising in the still air; the sunlight gleamed from theranks of bayonets; the vast multitude held its breath, the walls of thejail remained blank and inscrutable. 

Then a man on horseback was seen pushing his way through the crowd. He rodedirectly up to the jail door, on which he rapped thrice with the handle ofhis riding whip. Against the silence these taps, but gently delivered, sounded sharp and staccato. After a moment the wicket opened. The rider, without dismounting, handed through it a note; then, with a superb displayof the old-fashioned horsemanship, backed his horse half the length of thesquare where he, too, came to rest. 

"Who is he?" whispered Nan. Why she whispered she could not have told. 

"Charles Doane, " answered Mrs. Sherwood, in the same voice. 

Another commotion down the street. Again the ranks parted and closed again, this time to admit three carriages driven rapidly. As they came to a stopthe muskets all around the square leaped to the "present. " So disconcertingwas this sudden slap and rattle of arms after the tenseness of the lasthalf hour, that men dodged back as though from a blow. With admirableprecision, Olney's men, obeying a series of commands, moved forward fromthe gun to form a hollow square around the carriages. Only the man with theburning slow match was left standing by the breech. 

From the carriages then descended Coleman, Truett, Talbot Ward, Smiley, andtwo other men whom neither Nan nor Mrs. Sherwood recognized. Amid the deadsilence they walked directly to the jail door, Olney's Sixty breaking thesquare and deploying close at their heels. A low colloquy through thewicket now took place. At length the door swung slowly open. The committeeentered. The door swung shut after them. Again the people waited, but nowonce more arose the murmur of low-toned conversation. 

LX

Up to this day Casey had been very content with his situation. His quarterswere the best the place afforded, and they had been made more comfortable. Scores of friends had visited him, hailing him as their champion. He hadbeen made to feel quite a hero. To be sure it was a nuisance to be soconfined; but when he shot King, he had anticipated undergoing someinconvenience. It was a price to pay. He understood that there was somepublic excitement, and that it was well to lie low for a little until thathad died down. The momentary annoyance would be more than offset by laterprestige. Casey did not in the least fear the courts. He had before hiseyes too many reassuring examples. His friends were rallying nobly to hisdefence. Over the wines and cigars, with which he was liberally supplied, they boasted of their strength and their dispositions--the whole policeforce of the city, the militia companies sworn, to act in just suchemergencies, hundreds of volunteers, if necessary the whole power of theState of California called to put down this affronting of duly constitutedlaw!

But this Sunday morning Casey was uneasy. There seemed to be muchwhispering in corners, much bustling to and fro. He paced back and forth, fretting, interrogating those about him. But they could or would tell himlittle--there was trouble;--and they fussed away, leaving Casey alone. As amatter of fact, the withdrawal of the committee's guard of ten, and theformal notice that the truce was thus promptly ended, had caught the Lawand Order party unprepared. With five hours' notice--or indeed by next day, even were no notice given--the jail would have been impregnably defended. The sudden move of the committee won; as prompt, decisive moves will. 

The bustling of the people in the jail suddenly died. Casey heard noshuffle of feet, no whisper of conversation. The building might have beenempty save for himself. But he did hear outside the steady rhythmic trampof feet. 

Sheriff Scannell stood before him, the Vigilantes' written communication inhis hand. Casey, looking up from the bed on which he had fallen in suddenshrinking, saw on his face an expression that made him cower. For thefirst time realization came to him of the straits he was in. His vividIrish imagination leaped instantaneously from the complacence of absolutesafety to the depths of terror. He sprang to his feet. 

"You aren't going to betray me! You aren't going to give me up!" he cried, wringing his hands. 

"James, " replied' Scannell solemnly, "there are three thousand armed mencoming for you, and I have not now thirty supporters around the jail. "

"Not thirty!" cried. Casey, astonished. For a moment he appeared crushed;then leaped to his feet flourishing a long knife he had drawn from hisboot. "I'll, not be taken from this place alive!" he shrieked, besidehimself with hysteria. "Where are all you brave fellows who were going tosee me through this?"

Scannell looked at him sadly. In the pause came a sharp knocking at thedoor of the jail. The sheriff turned away. A moment later Casey, listeningintently, heard the door open and close, heard the sound of talking. Hefairly darted to his table, scrawled a paper, and called to attractattention. Marshal North, answered the summons. 

"Give this to them--to the Vigilantes, " urged Casey, thrusting the paperinto his hands. North glanced through the note. 

TO THE VIGILANT COMMITTEE. Gentlemen: I am willing to go before you if youwill let me speak but ten minutes. I do not wish the blood of any man uponmy head. 

JAS. CASEY

But after North had gone to deliver this, Casey again sprang to his feet, again flourished his bowie knife, again ramped up and down, again swore hewould never be taken alive. A deputy passed the door. Casey's demeanourcollapsed again. 

"Tell them, " he begged this man earnestly; "tell them if two respectablecitizens will promise me gentlemanly treatment, I'll go peaceably! I willnot be dragged through the streets like a dog! If they will give me a fairtrial and allow me to summon my witnesses, I'll yield!"

And the deputy left him pacing up and down, waving his knife, mutteringwildly to, himself. 

On entering the jail door Coleman and his companions bowed formally to thesheriff. 

"We have come for the prisoner, Casey, " said Coleman. "We ask that he bepeaceably delivered us handcuffed, at the door, immediately. "

"Under existing circumstances, " replied Scannell, "I shall make noresistance. The prison and its contents are yours. "

But Truett interrupted pointedly:

"We want only the man Casey, at present, " he said. "For the rest we holdyou strictly accountable. "

Scannell bowed without reply. North and the deputy came in succession todeliver Casey's messages, and to report his apparent determination. Thecommittee offered no comment. They penetrated to the ulterior of the jail. Many men, apparently unarmed, idling about as though merely spectators, looked at them curiously as they passed. Casey heard them, coming andsprang back from the door, holding his long knife dramatically poised. Coleman walked directly to the door, where he stopped, looking Casey coldlyin the eye. The seconds, passed. Neither man stirred. At the end of a fullminute Coleman said sharply:

"Lay down that knife!"

As though his incisive tones had broken the spell, Casey moved. He lookedwildly to right and to left; then flung the knife from him and buried hisface in his hands. 

"Your requests are granted, " said Coleman shortly; then to Marshal North:"Open the door and bring him out. "

LXI

On the veranda of the unoccupied house above the jail Nan Keith stoodrigid, her hand upon her heart. During the period of the committee'sabsence inside the jail she did not alter her position by a hair's breadth. She was in the hypnosis of a portentous waiting. Time fell into the abyssof eternity: whether it were ten minutes or ten hours did not matter in theleast. 

For this was to Nan in the nature of a revelation so sudden and so completethat it filled her whole soul. Had she known what Mrs. Sherwood was takingher to see, she would have pre-visualized a drunken, disorderly, howling, bloodthirsty mob; a huge composite of brawling antagonisms, of blind fury, of vulgar irrationalisms. Here were men filled with purpose; This was whatcaught at her breath--the grim silent purpose of it! The orderlyprogression of events, moving with the certainty of a fate, was like thesteady crescendo of solemn music. And this crescendo rose in her as a tideof emotion that overflowed and drowned her. The right and wrong--as she hadexamined them intellectually or through, the darkened glasses of her casteprejudices--were quite lost. This was merely something primitive, wonderful, beautiful. The spectacle was at the moment of suspense, yet shefelt so impatience--the wheel must turn in its own majestic circle--butonly an intense expectation. And in this she felt, subconsciously, that shewas one with the multitude. 

The jail door swung open. The committee came out. In the middle of theircompact group walked a stranger. 

"Casey!" breathed a vast voice from the crowd. 

An indescribable burst of grateful relief fluttered across the upturnedfaces as a breeze across water. It was almost timid at first, but gatheredstrength as it spread. It rolled up the hillside. A great, deep breathseemed to fill the lungs of the throng. The murmur swelled suddenly, was onthe point of bursting into the frantic cheering of twenty thousand men. 

But Coleman, his hat removed, raised his hand. In obedience to the simplegesture the cheer was stifled. In an instant all was still. The littlegroup entered the carriages, which immediately wheeled and drove away. 

Nan, standing bolt upright, her attitude still unchanged, caught her breathat the inhibition of the cheer. She did not even try to wink away the tearsthat rolled down her cheeks. Through them she saw the troops wheel with theprecision of veterans, and march away after the carriages. The crowd meltedslowly. Soon were left only the inscrutable jail, the gun still pointed atits door, the rigid ranks of Olney's Sixty, who had evidently been left onguard, and a few stragglers. 

Suddenly she turned and walked away. Mrs. Sherwood followed her as rapidlyas she could, but did not succeed in catching up with her. At the cornerbelow the Keiths' house she stopped, watched until Nan had gained her owndooryard, then turned toward home, a smile sketching her lips, a light inher eyes. 

Nan flung open her door and went directly to the parlour. She stood in thedoorway contemplating the scene. It was very cozy. The afternoon sunslanted through the high-narrow windows of the period, gilding the dustmotes floating lazily to and fro. The tea table, set with a snowy doth, glittered invitingly, its silver and porcelain, its plates of daintysandwiches and thin waferlike cookies--Wing Sam's specialty--enticinglydisplayed. Two easy chairs had been drawn close, and, before the unoccupiedone a low footstool had been placed. Ben Sansome sat in the other. He was, as usual, exquisitely dressed. All his little appointments were not onlycorrect but worn easily. The varicoloured waistcoat, the sparkling studsand cravat pins, the bright, soft silk tie, were all subdued from theirordinary too-vivid effect by the grace with which they were carried. Nansaw all this, and appreciated it dispassionately, appraising him anewthrough clarified vision. Especially she noticed the waxed ends of hissmall moustache. He had, at the sound of her entrance, lighted the teakettle; and as she came in he smiled up at her brightly. 

"You see, " he cried gayly, "I am doing your task for you! I have the lampall lit!"

She paid no attention to this, but advanced two steps into the room. 

"Which side are you on, anyway?" she asked abruptly and a little harshly. 

Sansome raised his eyebrows in faint and fastidious surprise. 

"Dear lady, what do you mean?"

"The only thing I can mean in these times: are you with the Law and Order, or with the Committee of Vigilance?"

Sansome shrugged his shoulders whimsically and sank back into his chair. 

"How can you ask that, dear lady?" he begged pathetically. "You would notclass me with the rabble, I hope. "

But Nan did not in the slightest degree respond to the lightness of histone. Her own was cold and detached. 

"I do not know how to class you, " she said. "But I asked you a question. "

Sansome arose to his feet again. His manner now became sympathetic, butinto it had crept the least hint of resentment, "I don't understand your mood" he told her. "You are overwrought. "

Nan's self-control slipped by ever so little. She did not actually stampher foot, but her delivery of her next speech achieved that for her. 

"Will you answer me?" she demanded. "Which side, are you on?"

"I am on the side every gentleman is on, " replied Sansome, a trifle stung. "The side of the law. "

"Then, " she cried, with a sudden intensity, "why weren't you there--on yourside--defending the jail?' Why are you here?"

Ben Sansome's knowledge of women was wide, and he therefore imagined itprofound. Here he recognized the symptoms of hysteria; cause unknown. Headopted the lightly soothing. 

"I thought I was asked here!" he cried with quizzical mock pathos. 

She stared at him a contemplative instant so steadily that he coloured. Shewas not seeing him, however; she was seeing Keith, standing with hisfellows in the open, under the walls of the jail and its hidden guns. Witha short laugh she turned away. 

"You were, " said she. "Help yourself to tea. As you say, I am overwrought. I am going to lie down. "

Her one compelling instinct now was to get away from him before somethingin her brain snapped. He became soothing. 

"Won't you have a cup of tea first?" he urged. "It will do you good. "

"A cup of tea!" she repeated with deadly calm. It seemed such an ending tosuch a day! She tried to laugh, but strangled in her throat; and she boltedwildly from the room, leaving Ben Sansome staring. 

LXII

Nan's high exaltation of spirit, which still soared at the altitude towhich the events of the afternoon had lifted it, next expressed itself in acharacteristically feminine manner: she picked flowers in the garden, arranged them, placed them effectively, set the table herself, lighted thelamps, touched a match to the wood fire always comfortable in San Franciscoevenings, slightly altered the position of the chairs, visited Wing Samwith fresh instructions. Gringo, who looked on all this as for his especialbenefit, took his place luxuriously before the grate. It was a cozy, homelike scene. Then she dressed slowly and carefully in her most becominggown--the only gown Keith had ever definitely singled out for individualpraise--took especial pains with her hair, and finally descended to joinGringo. The latter, as a greeting intended to show his entire confidence, promptly rolled over to expose his vitals to her should it be her pleasureto hurt a poor defenceless dog. He was a ridiculous sight, upside down, histongue lolling out, his eye rolled up at her adoringly. She laughed at hima little, then leaned swiftly over to confide something in his ear. 

But that evening Keith was late. The clock on the mantel chimed clearly thehour, then the quarter and the half. Wing Sam came to protest aggreivedlythat "him glub catchum cold--you no wait!" Nan was severe with Wing Sam andhis suggestion--so unwontedly severe that Wing Sam returned to the kitchenmuttering darkly. He had caught the atmosphere of celebration, somehow, andon his own-initiative had frosted with wonderful white a cake not yet cut, and on the cake had carefully traced pink legends in Chinese and Englishcharacters. The former was one of those conventional mottoes seen on everylaundry, club, and temple which would have translated "Health, long life, and happiness"; the other Wing Sam had copied from a lithograph he muchadmired. It read "Use Rising Sun Stove Polish. " Glowering with resentment, Wing Sam scraped the frosting from the cake. 

At eight o'clock a small boy delivered a note at the door and scuttled backto the centre of excitement. It was a scrawl from Keith, saying that he wasdetained, would not be home to dinner, might not be in at all. Nan sat downto a cold, belated meal served by a loftily disapproving Chinaman. Shetried to think of her pride in Keith, and the work he, in company with hisfellows, was doing for the city; to recall some of her exaltation of theafternoon; but it was very difficult. Her little preparations were so muchnearer. The table, the flowers, the shaded lamps, the fire on the hearth, her gown, the twist of her hair, all mocked her anticipations. In spite ofherself her spirits went down to zero. She could not eat, she could noteven sit at the table through the service of the various courses. Midway inthe meal she threw aside her napkin and returned abruptly to the drawing-room. The fire was snapping merrily on the hearth. Gringo opened his eyesat her entrance, recognized his beloved mistress, and rolled over as usual, all four legs in the air, his tender stomach confidingly exposed, for Whocould be so brutal as to hurt a poor, defenceless dog? Nan kicked himpettishly in the ribs. Gringo stopped panting, and drew in his tongue, butotherwise did not shift his posture. This was, of course, a mistake. Nankicked him again. Gringo rose deliberately and retired with dignity to thecoldest, darkest, most cheerless corner he could find, where he sat andlooked dejected. 

"You look such a silly fool!" Nan told him relentlessly. 

Thus passed the moment of exaltation and expansion. If Keith had come hometo dine, it is probable that the barrier between them--of which he was onlydimly conscious--would have been broken. But by midnight Nan had, as sheimagined, "thought out" the situation. She was able to see him now througheyes purged of self-pity or self-thought. She came to full realization, which she formulated to herself, that she was not now the central point ofhis interest--that she was "no longer" the central point, as she expressedit. She was right also in her conclusion that all day long he hardly gaveher more than a perfunctory thought. So far, her facts were absolutelycorrect. But Nan was, in spite of her natural good mind and marriedexperience, too ignorant of man psychology to draw the true conclusion. Indeed, very few women ever realize man's possibilities of single-mindedpurpose and concentration to the temporary exclusion of other things. Keith's whole being was carried by this moral movement in which he wasinvolved. He simply took Nan for granted; and that is something a womannever gets used to, and always misinterprets. 

"He no longer loves me!" she said to herself, in this hour of plainthinking. She faced it squarely; and her heart sank to the depths; for shestill loved him, and the sight of him that afternoon amid the guns had toldher how much. 

But her next thought was not of herself, but of him, and the situation inwhich, he was working out his destiny. "How can I best help?" she askedherself, which showed that the spirit aroused in her that afternoon had notin reality died. And her intellect relentlessly pointed out to her that heronly aid would come from her self-effacement, her standing one side. Whenthe great work was done, then, perhaps--

So affairs in the Keith household went on exactly as before. Nobody butGringo knew that anything had happened; and he only realized that theuniverse had suffered an upheaval, so that now mistresses might kick theirpoor defenceless dogs in the stomach. 

LXIII

Casey was safely in custody. Cora also had been taken on a second trip tothe jail. They had been escorted into the headquarters, the doors of whichhad closed behind them and behind the armed men who guarded them. Thestreets were filled with an orderly crowd. They waited with that sameabsence of excitement, impatience, or tumult so characteristic of all thepopular gatherings of that earnest time, save when the upholders of the lawwere gathered. After a long interval one of the committeemen, Dows by name, appeared at an upper window. He did not have to appeal for attention, andhad barely to raise his voice. 

"It is not the intention of the committee to be hasty, " he announced. "Nothing more will be done to-day. "

Silence greeted this statement. At last some one spoke up:

"Where are Casey and Cora?" he asked. 

"The committee holds possession of the jail; all are safe, " replied Dows. 

With this assurance the crowd was completely satisfied, as it proved bydispersing quietly and at once. 

Of the three thousand enrolled men, three hundred were retained under armsat headquarters; a hundred surrounded and watched the jail; the rest weredismissed. About midnight a dense fog descended on the city. The streetswere deserted. But on the roofs of the jail and the adjacent buildingsindistinct figures stalked to and fro in the misty moonlight. 

All next day, which was Monday, headquarters remained inscrutable. Smallactivities went forward. Guards and patrols were changed. The cannon wasbrought from before the jail. Early in the day a huge crowd gathered, packing the adjacent streets, watching patiently far into the night to seewhat would happen. Nothing happened. 

But about the city at large patrols of armed men moved on mysteriousbusiness. Gun shops were picketed, and their owners forbidden to sellweapons. Evidently the committee was carrying out a considered plan. 

Toward evening the weather thickened and a rain came on. It turned colder. Still the crowd did not disperse. It stood in its sodden shoes, hugging itssodden cloaks to its shoulders, humped over, waiting. About eight o'clockseveral companies in rigid marching formation appeared. A stir of interest, shivered through the crowd, but died as it became evident that this wasonly a general relief for those on duty during the day. At midnight, orthereabouts, the crowd went home; but again by first daylight the streetsfor blocks were jammed full. Still it rained with a sullen, persistence. Still nothing happened. 

And all over the city business was practically at a stand. Knots of menstood conferring on every corner. Conversation in mixed company was verywary indeed. No man dared express himself too openly. The courts wereempty. Some actually closed, on one excuse or another, but most wentthrough a form of business. Some judges took the occasion to go to WhiteSulphur Springs on vacations, long contemplated, they said. These thingsoccasioned lively comment. It was generally known that the Sacramentosteamer of the evening before had carried several hundred passengers, allwith pressing business at the capitol, or somewhere else. As our chroniclertells it: "A good many who had things on their minds left for the country. "Still it rained; still the crowd waited; still the headquarters of theCommittee of Vigilance remained closed and inscrutable. 

LXIV

During all this time the Executive Committee sat in continuous session, forit had been agreed that no recess of more than thirty minutes should betaken until a decision had been reached. The room in which they sat was alarge one, lighted by windows on one side only. Coleman sat behind a raiseddesk at one end. Below it stood a small table accommodating two. On eitherside six small tables completed three sides of a hollow square. Noornament, no especial comforts--the desk, the thirteen pine tables, thetwenty-eight pine chairs, the wooden walls, the oil lamps, the four longwindows--that was all. 

The prisoners, who, when they had seen the thousands before the jail, hadexpected nothing less than instant execution by lynch law, began to takeheart. After a man has faced what he thinks is the prospect of immediateand unavoidable death, such treatment as this arouses real hope. Theprisoners were strictly guarded and closely confined, it is true, but theyunderstood they were to have a fair trial "according to law. " That lastphrase cheered them immensely. They knew the law. Nor were they entirelycut off from the outside. Casey was allowed to see several men in regard tocertain pressing business matters, and was permitted to talk to themfreely, although always in the presence of a member of the committee. Corareceived visits from Belle. She had spent thousands in his legal defence;now she came to see him faithfully, and tried to cheer him, but was plainlycowed. Her self-control had vanished. She clung to him passionately, weeping. He was forced to what should have been her rôle; and in cheeringher he managed to gain a modicum of self-confidence for himself. She lefthim at midnight, much reassured. 

But on Monday morning Cora's cell door was thrown open, and he was motionedforth by a grave man, who conducted him through echoing gloomy corridors tothe committee room, where he was left facing the tables and the men who satbehind them. Cora's natural buoyancy vanished. The men before him met hisgaze with rigid, unbending solemnity. The rain beat mournfully against thewindows, blurring the glass, casting the high apartment in a half gloom. Nobody moved or spoke. All looked at him. The echo of his footsteps died, and the room was cast in stillness except for the soft dashing of thestorm. 

"Charles Cora, " at last pronounced Coleman in measured tones, "you are hereon trial for your life, accused with the murder of United States MarshalRichardson. "

Cora, who was a plucky man, had recovered his wits. He must have realizedthat he was in a tight place, but he kept his head admirably. His demeanourtook on alertness, his manner throughout was respectful, and his voice low. 

"Do I get no counsel?" he inquired. 

"Counsel will be given you. "

He put in an earnest plea for counsel outside the tribunal--impartialcounsel. 

"Our members are impartial, " Coleman told him. 

Cora hesitated; locking about him. 

"If Mr. Truett will act for me, " he suggested; "and I beg you earnestly, gentlemen, that the excitement of the time may not be prejudicial to myinterests, that I may have a chance for my life!"

"Your trial will be fair, " he was assured. 

"I shall undertake the defence, " Truett agreed briefly; "and petition thatMr. Smiley be appointed as my assistant. "

This being granted, the three men drew one side for a consultation. In ashort time Truett handed to the sergeant-at-arms--the same man who hadconducted Cora to the tribunal--a list of the witnesses Cora wished tosummon. These were at once sought by a subcommittee outside. In themeantime, witnesses for the prosecution were one by one admitted, sworn, and examined. All ordinary forms of law were closely followed. Allessential facts were separately brought out. It was the historic Cora trialover again, with one difference--gone were the technical delays. By duskKeith, who had been called at three, had all but completed the long tale ofhis testimony, had finished recounting, not only what he had seen of thequarrel and the subsequent shooting, but also a detailed account of thetrial, the adverse influences brought to bear on the prosecution, and hisinvestigations into the question of "undue influence. " No attempt was madeto confine the investigation to the technical trial. 

Keith was the last witness for the prosecution. And the witnesses for thedefence, where were they? Of the list submitted by Cora not one could befound! In hiding, afraid, the perjurers would not appear!

The dusk was falling in earnest now. The corners of the room were indarkness. Beneath Coleman's desk Bluxome, the secretary, had lighted an oillamp the better to see his notes. In the interest of Keith's testimony thegeneral illumination had not been ordered. Outside the tiny patch of yellowlight the men of Vigilance sat motionless, listening, their shadows dim andhuge against the wall. 

The door opened, and Charles Doane, the Grand Marshal of the Vigilantes, advanced three steps into the room. 

"Mr. President, " he said clearly, his voice cutting the stillness, "I aminstructed to announce that James King of William is dead. "

LXV

Thursday noon was set for the funeral of the man who had given his lifethat a city might live. In the room where he had made his brave fightagainst death he now lay in state. On Wednesday ten thousand people visitedhim there. Early Thursday morning his remains were transferred to theUnitarian Church where, early as it was, a great multitude had gathered todo him honour. Now through the long morning hours it sat with him silently. The church was soon filled to over-flowing; the streets in all directionsbecame crowded with sober-faced men and women. They knew they would beunable to get into the church, to attend nearer his last communion with hisfellowmen, but they stayed, feeling vaguely that their mere presencehelped--as, indeed, perhaps it did. Marching bodies from every guild orsociety in the city stood in rank after rank, extending down the street asfar as the eye could reach. Hundreds of horsemen, carriages, foot marchers, quietly, orderly, were already getting into line. They, too, were excludedfrom the funeral ceremonies by lack of room; they, too, waited to do honourto the cortege. This procession was over two miles in length. Each man worea band of crèpe around his left arm. The time set for the funeral ceremonywas yet hours distant. 

It seemed that all the city must be there. But those who, hurrying to thescene, had occasion to pass near the Vigilante headquarters found thevacant square guarded on all sides by a triple line of armed men. The sidestreets, also, were filled with them. They stood in exact alignment, rigid, bayonets fixed, their eyes straight ahead. Three thousand of them werethere. Hour after hour they stood, untiring, staring at the building, whichgave no sign; just as the other multitude, only a few squares away, stoodhour after hour, patiently waiting in the bright sun. 

At quarter before one the upper windows of the headquarters building werethrown open, and small platforms, extending about three feet, were thrustfrom two of them. An instant later two heavy beams were shoved out from theflat roof directly over the platforms. From the ends of the beams danglednooses of rope. A dead wait ensued. Across the silence could be heardfaintly from the open windows of the distant church the chords of an organ, the rise and fall of a hymn, then the measured cadence of oration. Thefuneral services had begun. 

As though this were a signal, the blinds that had partly closed the windowopenings were swung back, and Charles Cora was conducted to the end of oneof the little platforms. His face was covered with a white handkerchief, and his arms and legs were bound with cords. The attendant adjusted thenoose, then left him. An instant later Casey appeared. He had petitionednot to be blindfolded, so his face was bare. Cora stood bolt upright, motionless as a stone. Casey's nerve had left him; his face was pale andhis eyes bloodshot. As the attendant placed the noose, the murderer's eyesdarted here and there over the square. Did he still expect that theboastful promises of his friends would be fulfilled, did he still hope forrescue? If so, that hope must have died as he looked down on those set, grim faces staring straight ahead, on that sinister ring of steel. He beganto babble. 

"Gentlemen!" he cried at them, "I am not a murderer! I do not feel afraidto meet my God on a charge of murder! I have done nothing but what Ithought was right! To-morrow let no editor dare call me a murderer!Whenever I was injured I have resented it. It has been part of my educationduring twenty-nine years! Gentlemen, I forgive you this persecution! O God!My poor mother! O God!"

Not one word of contrition; not one word for the man who lay yonder in thechurch; not one syllable for the heartbroken wife kneeling at the coffin!He ceased. And his words went out into the void and found no echo againstthat wall of steel. 

They waited. For what? Across the intervening housetops the sound ofspeaking ceased to carry. The last orator had given place. At the door ofthe sanctuary was visible a slight, commotion: the coffin was being carriedout. It was placed in the hearse. Every head was bared. There ensued aslight pause; then from overhead the great bell boomed once. Another bellin the next block answered. A third, more distant, chimed in. From allparts of the city tolled the solemn requiem. 

At the first stroke the long cortège moved forward toward Lone Mountain; atthe first stroke the Vigilantes, as one man, presented arms; at the firststroke the platforms dropped and Casey and Cora fell into the abyss ofeternity. 

LXVI

This execution occasioned a great storm of indignation among the adherentsof law and order. Serious-minded men, like Judge Shattuck, admitted theessential justice rendered, but condemned strongly the method. 

"Of course they were murderers, " cried the judge, "and of course theyshould have been hung, and of course the city is better off without eitherof them. I'm not afraid of their friends, and I don't care who knows what Ithink! And some very worthy citizens, wrongly, are involved in this, somecitizens whom otherwise I greatly respect. It is better that a hundredcriminals should escape than that the whole law of California should beoutraged by an act that denies at once the value and the authority of ourgovernment. The energy, the talent for organization, that this committeehas displayed in the exercise of usurped authority, might have beendirected in aid of the courts, consistently with the constitution and thelaws, with, equal if not greater efficiency. "

But very few were able to see it in this calm spirit. The ruling class, the"chivalry, " the best element of the city had been slapped in the face. Andby whom? By a lot of "Yankee shopkeepers, " assisted by renegades likeKeith, Talbot Ward, and others. The committee was a lot of stranglers; theyought to be punished as murderers; they ought to be shot down, egad, asrevolutionaries! It was realized that street shooting had temporarilybecome unsafe; otherwise, there is no doubt that the hotheads would havegone forth deliberately abrawling. There were many threats made againstindividuals, many condign--and lawless--punishments promised them. 

As an undercurrent, nowhere expressed or even acknowledged, was a strongfeeling of relief. Any Law and Order would have fought at the meresuggestion; but every one of them felt it. After all, the law had beensurprised and overpowered. It had yielded only to overwhelming odds. Withthe execution of Cora and Casey accomplished, the committee might beexpected to disband. And, of course, when it did disband, then the lawwould have its innings. Its forces would be better organized andconsolidated, its power assured. It could then apprehend and bring tojustice the ringleaders of this unwarranted undertaking. Like dogs at theheels of a retreating foe, the hotheads became bolder as this secretconviction gained strength. They were in favour of using an armed force totake Coleman and his fellow-conspirators into the custody of the law. Calmer spirits held this scheme in check. 

"Let them have rope, " advised Blatchford. "I know mobs. Now that they'vehung somebody, their spirit will die down. Give them a few days. "

But to the surprise, and indignation of these people, the Vigilantes showedno of an intention to disband. On the contrary, their activities extendedand their organization tightened. The various companies drilled daily untilthey went through evolutions and the manual of arms with all the perfectionof regular troops. The committee's books remained open; by the last of theweek over seven thousand men had signed the rolls. Vanloads of furnitureand various supplies were backed up before the doors of headquarters, andwere carried within by members of the organization--no non-member ever sawthe inside of the building while it was occupied by the Vigilantes. Thecharacter of these furnishings and supplies would seem to argue anintention of permanence. Stoves, cooking utensils, cot beds, provisions, blankets, bulletin boards, arms, chairs, tables, field guns, ammunition, were only some items. Doorkeepers were always in attendance. Sentinelspatrolled the streets and the roof. The great warehouse took on anexceedingly animated appearance. 

The Executive Committee was in session all of each day. It became knownthat a "black list" of some sort was in preparation. On the heels of thisorders came for the Vigilante police, instructing them to arrest certainmen and to warn certain others to leave town immediately. It was evidentthat a clean sweep was contemplated. 

Among the first of those arrested was the notorious Yankee Sullivan, an ex-prize fighter, ward heeler, ballot-box staffer, and shoulder striker. Hehad always been a pillar of strength to those engaged in corrupt practices. This man went to pieces completely. He confessed the details of many of hisown crimes but, what was more important, implicated many others as well. His testimony was invaluable, not necessarily as final proof against thosewhom he accused, but as indications for thorough investigations. Finally, unexpectedly, he committed suicide in his cell. It seems he had beenaccustomed to from sixty to eighty drinks of whiskey a day, and the sudden, complete deprivation had destroyed him. Warned by this, the committeehenceforward issued regular rations of whiskey to its prisoners!

Trials in due order, with counsel for defence and ample opportunity to callwitnesses, went on briskly. Those who anticipated more hangings weredisappointed. It became known that the committee had set for itself therule that capital punishment would be inflicted only for crimes sopunishable by the regular law. But each outgoing ship carried crowds ofthose on whom had been passed the sentence of banishment. The majority ofthese were, of course, low thugs, "Sydney ducks, " hangers on; but a verylarge proportion were taken from what had been known as the city's best. Inthe law courts these men would in many cases have been declared as white asthe driven snow. But they were undesirable citizens; the committee sodecided them; and bade them begone. Charles Duane, Wooley Kearney, WilliamCarr, Edward Bulger, Philander Brace, William McLean, J. D. Musgrave, andPeter Wightman were well-known and influential names found on the "blacklist, " Peter Wightman, James White, and our old friend, Ned McGowan, ranaway. Hundreds of others left the city. A terror spread among the ignorantand vicious of the underworld. Some of the minor offenders brought in bythe Vigilante police were by the Executive Committee turned over to theregular law courts. _Every one of such cases was promptly convicted bythose courts_!

This did not look much like disbanding, nor did any opportunity forwholesale arrest of the anarchists seem imminent. The leaders of the Lawand Order faction were at last aroused. 

"This is more than anarchy; it is revolution, " said Judge Caldwell. "It isa successful revolution because it is organized. The people of this cityare scattered and powerless. They in turn should be organized to combat theforces of disorder. "

In pursuance of this belief--that the public at large needed only to becalled together in order to defend its institutions--handbills were printedand newspaper notices published calling a meeting for June and inPortsmouth Square. Elaborate secret preparations, involving certaindistributions of armed men were made to prevent what was consideredcertain interference. This was useless. Immediately after the appearance ofthe notice the Committee of Vigilance issued orders that the meeting was inno manner to be disturbed, and hung out placards reading:

"Members of the Vigilance Committee: Order must be maintained. "

"Friends of the Vigilance Committee: Keep out of the Square, " etc. 

The meeting was well attended. Enormous crowds gathered, not only in andaround the square itself, but in balconies and windows and on housetops. Itwas a ribald, disrespectful crowd, evidently out for a good time, callingback and forth, shouting question or comment at the men gathered about thespeaker's platform. 

"What kind of a circus do you call this show, anyway?" roared a huge, bare-armed miner in red shirt. 

"This is the Law and Murder meeting, " instantly answered some one from abalcony. 

This phrase tickled the crowd hugely. The words were passed from man toman. Eventually they became the stereotyped retort. "Stranglers!" sneeredone faction. "Law and Murder!" flung back the other. 

On the platform stood or sat the owners of many of the city's proud names--judges, jurists, merchants, holders of high political office, men whoseinfluence a month ago had been paramount and irresistible. Among them werefamed orators, men who had never failed to hold and influence a crowd. Buttwo hundred feet away little could be heard. It early became evident that, though there would be no interference, the sentiment of the crowd wasagainst them. And, what was particularly maddening, the sentiment was good-humoured. Even the compliment of being taken seriously was denied them!

Colonel Ed Baker came forward to speak. The colonel's gift of eloquence wassuch that, in spite of his known principles, his lack of scruple, hisinsincerity, he won his way to a picturesque popularity and fame. Later hedelivered a funeral oration over the remains of David Broderick that hasgone far to invest the memory of that hard-headed, venal, unscrupulouspolitician with an aura of romance. But the crowd would have little of himthis day. An almost continuous uproar drowned his efforts. Catch words suchas liberty, constitution, _ habeas corpus_, trial by jury, freedom, etc. , occasionally became audible. The people were not interested. 

"See Cora's defender!" cried someone, voicing the general suspicion thatBaker had been one of the little gambler's hidden counsel. "Cora!" "EdBaker!" "Ten thousand dollars!" "Out of that, you old reprobate!" jeeredthe audience. He spoke ten minutes against the storm, then yielded, redfaced and angry. Others tried in vain. A Southerner named Benham, whiledeploring passionately the condition of the city which had been seized by amob, robbed of its sacred rights, etc. , happened inadvertently to throwback his coat, thus revealing the butt of a Colt's revolver. The bystanderscaught the point at once. 

"There's a pretty Law and Order man!" they shrieked. "Hey, Benham! Don'tyou know it's against the law to go armed?"

"I carry this weapon, " shrieked Benham, passionately shaking his fist, "notas an instrument to overthrow the law, but to uphold it!"

A clear, steady voice from a nearby balcony made itself distinctly heard:

"In other words, sir, you break the law in order to uphold the law, " itsaid. "What more are the Vigilantes doing?"

The crowd went wild over this repartee. The confusion became worse. OldJudge Campbell was thrust forward, in the hope that his age and his seniorjudgeship would command respect. He was unable to utter consecutivesentences. 

"I once thought, " he interrupted himself piteously, "that I was the freecitizen of a free country, but recent occurrences have convinced me that Iam a slave; a slave, gentlemen, more a slave than any on a Southernplantation for they know their masters, but I know not mine!"

But his auditors refused to be affected. 

"Oh, yes, you do!" they informed him. "You know your masters as well asanybody--two of them were hung the other day!"

After this the meeting broke up. The most ardent Law and Order man couldnot deny that as a popular demonstration it had been a fizzle. 

But if this attempt at home to gain coherence failed, up river thepartisans had better luck. A hasty messenger with tidings for the ear ofthe Executive Committee only was followed by rapidly spreading rumours. Five hundred men with two pieces of artillery were coming down fromSacramento to liberate the prisoners, especially Billy Mulligan, or die inthe attempt. They were reported to be men from the southeast: Texans, Carolinians, crackers from Pike County, all fire-eaters, reckless, sure tomake trouble. Their numbers were not in themselves formidable, but everyman knew the city still to be full of scattered warriors needing onlyleaders and a rallying point. The materials for a very pretty civil warwere laid for the match. An uneasiness pervaded headquarters, not for theoutcome, but for the unavoidable fighting and bloodshed. 

Therefore, when Olney hastily entered the main hall early in the evening, and in a loud voice called for "two hundred men with side arms for especialduty, " there was a veritable scramble to enlist. Olney picked out therequired number, selecting, it was afterward noticed, only the big menphysically. They fell in, and were marched quickly out Market Street. Itwas dark. Expectations were high. Just beyond Second Street, dimly visibleagainst the sky or in the faint starlight, they saw a mysterious forceopposing them, men on foot, horses, the wheels of guns. Each man grippedhis revolver and set his teeth. Here, evidently, from this ordinarilydeserted and distant part of town, a flanking attack was to have beendelivered. As they drew nearer they made out wagons; and nearer still-baleupon bale of gunny sacks, and shovels!

The truth dawned on them, and a great laugh went up. "Sold! Sold! Sold!"they cried. 

But they set to work with a will, filled the gunny sacks with sand, piledthem on the wagons; and so by morning Fort Gunnybags, as headquarters wasthenceforth called, came into existence. Cannon were mounted, breastworkspiled, embrasures planned. 

The five hundred fire-eaters were no myth. They disembarked, greeted thehorde of friends who had come to meet them, marched to Fort Gunnybags, looked it over, thrust their hands in their pockets, and walked peacefullyaway to the nearest barrooms!

Wise men. By now the Vigilante dispositions were so complete that in themere interest of examining so sudden yet so thorough an organization, aparagraph or so may profitably be spent on it. Behind headquarters was along shed stable in which were to be found at all hours saddle horses andartillery horses, all saddled and bridled, ready for instant use. Twenty-six pieces of artillery, mostly sent in by captains of merchant vessels inthe harbour, were here parked. Other cannon were mounted for the defence ofFort Gunnybags. Muskets, rifles, and sabres enough to arm 6, 000 men hadbeen accumulated--and there were 6, 000 men to use them! A French portablebarricade had been constructed in the event of possible street fighting, asort of wheeled framework that could be transformed into litters or scalingladders. Sutlers' offices and kitchens could feed a small army. Flags andpainted signs carrying the emblematic open eye of vigilance decorated therooms, A huge alarm bell had been mounted on the roof. The mattresses, beds, cots, blankets, and other furniture necessary to sleep four companieson the premises had been provided. A completely equipped armourer's shopand a hospital with all supplies occupied the third story. The forces weredivided into four companies of artillery, one squadron and two troops ofcavalry, four regiments, and thirty-two companies of infantry; besides thesmall but efficient police organization. A tap on the bell gathered thesemen in an incredibly short space of time. "As a rule, " says Bancroft, "within fifteen minutes from the time the bell was tapped, on any occasion, seven-tenths of the entire Vigilante forces would be in their places armedready for battle. "

Another corps, not as heroic, but quite as necessary, it was foundadvisable to appoint. The sacking of which Fort Gunnybags was made was ofvery coarse texture. When dry, the sand filling tended to run out!Therefore, those bags had to be kept constantly wet, and somebody had to doit. Enemies sneeringly remarked that Fort Gunnybags consumed much morewater without than within; but this joke lost its point when it becameknown that the committee, decades in advance of its period, had prohibitedalcohol absolutely!

Realizing from the two lamentable fiascos just recounted that little couldbe accomplished by private initiative, the upholders of the law turnedtheir attention to Sacramento. Here they had every reason to hope forsuccess. No matter how well organized the Vigilantes might be, or howthoroughly they carried the sympathies of the local public, there could beno doubt that they were acting in defiance of the law, were, in fact, nobetter than rebels. It was not only within the power, it was the duty ofthe governor of the State to declare the city in a condition ofinsurrection. 

This being accomplished, it followed logically that the State troops mustput down the insurrection; and if they failed, there was still the immensepower of the republic to call upon. After all, when you look at it thatway, this handful of disturbers amounted to very little. 

The first step was to win over the governor. Without him the next stepcould not be taken. Accordingly all the big guns of San Francisco took the_Senator_ for Sacramento. There they met Terry, Volney Howard, and othersof the same ilk. No governor of Johnson's sort could long withstand suchpressure. He promised to issue the proclamation of insurrection as soon asit was "legally proved" that the committee had acted outside the law. Themere fact that it had already hanged two men and deported a great number ofothers meant nothing. That, apparently, was not legal proof. 

In order that all things should be legal, then, Terry issued a writ of_habeas corpus_ for the body of one William Mulligan, and gave it into thehands of Deputy-sheriff Harrison for service on the committee. Nobodyexpected the latter to deliver over Mulligan. 

"But they'll deny the writ, " said Terry, "and that will constitute a legaldefiance of the State. The governor will then be legally justified inissuing his proclamation, and ordering out the State troops to enforce thewrit. "

If the State troops proved inadequate, the plan was then to call on theUnited States--as locally represented by General Wool and Captain DavidFarragut--for assistance. With this armed backing three times the Vigilanteforce could be quickly subdued. As it was all legal, it could not fail. 

Harrison took the writ of _habeas corpus_ and proceeded to San Francisco. He presented himself at headquarters, produced his writ, and had himselfannounced to the Executive Committee then in session. 

"Tell him to go to hell!" growled someone. 

But a half-dozen members saw through the ruse, and interposed vigorousobjections. 

"I move, " said Dempster solemnly, "that our police be permitted to removeall prisoners for a few hours. "

This was carried, and put into immediate effect. Deputy Harrison was thenpolitely received, his writ fully acknowledged, and he was allowed tosearch the premises. Of course he found nothing, and departed muchcrestfallen. The scheme had failed. The committee had in no way denied hisauthority or his writ. Harrison was no fool. He saw clearly what he hadbeen expected to do. On his way back to Sacramento he did some thinking. ToTerry he unblushingly returned the writ endorsed: "Prevented from serviceby armed men. " For the sake of the cause Harrison had lied!

Johnson immediately issued his proclamation. The leaders turned withconfidence to the Federal authorities for assistance. To their blank dismayGeneral Wool refused to furnish arms. His position was that he had noauthority to do so without orders from Washington. The sympathies of thisdoughty old soldier were not with this attempt. Colonel Baker and VolneyHoward waited on him, and after considerable conversation made the mistakeof threatening to report him to Washington for refusing to uphold the law. 

"I think, gentlemen, " flashed back the veteran, "I know my duty, and in itsperformance dread no responsibility. "

So saying he bowed them from the room. Farragut equally could not clearlysee why he should train the guns of his ship on the city. With this fiascothe opposition for the moment died. The Executive Committee went onpatiently working down through its black list. It announced that after June24th no new cases would be taken, A few days later it proclaimed an"adjournment parade" on July 5th. It considered its work done. The city hadbecome safe. 

LXVII

But this peaceful outcome did not suit the aristocratic wing of the Law andOrder party in the least. The haughty, supremely individualistic, bold, forceful, often charming coterie of fire-eaters had, in their opinion, beeninsulted, and they wanted reprisal, punishment, blood. Terry, Baker, Bennett, Miles, Webb, Nugent, Blatchford, Rowlee, Caldwell, Broderick, Ware, Volney Howard, Black--to mention only a few--chafed intolerably. Suchmen were accustomed to have their own way, to cherish an ultra-sensitive"honour, " to be looked up to; had come to consider themselves as especiallyprivileged, to look upon themselves as direct representatives of the onlyproper government and administration of law. This revolt of the "lowerclasses, " the "smug, psalm-singing Yankees, " the "shopkeepers, " wasintolerable impudence. Because of a series of accidents, proper resentmentof such impudence, due punishment of such denial of the law had beenpostponed. It was not, therefore, abrogated. 

When, therefore, the committee announced July 5th as a definite date fordisbanding, the lawful authorities and their upholders, blinded by theirpassions, were distinctly disappointed. Where the common citizen perceivedonly the welcome end of a necessary job well done, they saw slipping awaythe last chance for a clash of arms that should teach these rebels theirplace. It was all very well to talk of arresting the ringleaders andbringing them to justice. In the present lamentable demoralization of thecourts it might not work; and even if it did work, the punishment ofringleaders was small satisfaction as compared to triumphant vindication inpitched battle. 

Sherman had resigned command of the military in disgust when he found thatGeneral Wool and Captain Farragut had no intention of supplying him Federalarms, thus closing--save for later inaccurate writing in his "Memoirs"--anunfortunate phase of his career. In his stead had been chosen GeneralVolney Howard. Howard was a rather fat, very pompous, wholly conceitedbombastes furioso with apparently remarkable lack of judgment or grasp of asituation. In the committee's action looking toward adjournment he actuallythought he saw a sign of weakening!

"Now is the moment for us to show our power!" he said. 

In this he gained the zealous support of Judge Terry and Major MarmadukeMiles, two others with more zeal than discretion. These three managed topersuade Governor Johnson to order a parade of State troops in the streetsof San Francisco. Their argument was that such a parade--of legallyorganized forces--would overawe the citizens; their secret hope, however, was that such a show would provoke the desired conflict. This hope theyshared with Howard, after the governor's order had been obtained. Howard'svanity and inclinations jumped together. He consented. Altogether, it was avery pretty little plot. 

By now the Law and Order forces had become numerically formidable. Thebobtail and rag-tag, ejected either by force or by fright, flocked to thecolours. A certain proportion of the militia remained in the ranks, thougha majority had resigned. A large contingent of reckless, wild young men, without a care or a tie in the world, with no interest in the rights of thecase, or, indeed, in themselves, avid only for adventure, offeredthemselves as soon as the prospects for a real fight became good. And therewere always the five hundred discomfited Texans. 

Nor were arms now lacking. Contrary to all expectation, the committee hadscrupulously refrained from meddling with the State armouries. All militiamuskets were available. In addition the State had now the right to acertain quota of Federal arms, stored in the arsenal at Benicia. Thesecould be requisitioned. 

At this point in the planning weasly little Jimmy Ware had a bright idea. 

"Look here!" he cried, "how many of those Benicia muskets are there?"

"About a hundred and fifty stand, sir, " Howard told him. 

"Now they can't help us a whole lot, " propounded Ware. "They are too few. But why can't we use them for bait, to get those people on the wrong sideof the fence?"

"What do you mean?" asked Terry, who knew Ware intimately. 

"Suppose they are shipped from Benicia to the armouries in the city; theyare legally Federal property until they are delivered, aren't they?"

"Certainly. "

"Well, if the Stranglers should happen to seize them while they're stillFederal property, they've committed a definite offence against the UnitedStates, haven't they?"

"What do we care about that now?" asked Major Marmaduke Miles, to whom thisseemed irrelevant. 

But Judge Terry's legal mind was struck with the beauty and simplicity ofthis ruse. 

"Hold on!" he cried. "If we ship them in a boat, the seizure will bepiracy. If they intercept those arms, they're pirates, and we can legallycall on the Federal forces--_and they'll be compelled to respond, egad!_"

"They're pretty smart; suppose they smell a rat?" asked Miles doubtfully. 

"Then we'll have the muskets where we want them, anyway. It's worthtrying, " replied Ware. 

"I know just the man, " put in Terry. "I'll send for him. "

Shortly appeared a saturnine, lank, bibulous individual known as RubeMaloney. To him Terry explained. He was to charter a sloop, take themuskets aboard--and get caught. 

"No resistance, mind you!" warned Terry. 

"Trust me for that, " grinned Rube. "I ain't anxious for no punctured skin, nor yit a stretched neck. "

"Pick your men carefully. "

"I'll take Jack Phillips and Jim McNab, " said Rube, after a moment'sthought, "and possibly a few refreshments?" he suggested. 

Terry reached into his pocket. 

"Certainly, certainly, " said he. "Treat yourself well. "

There remained only to see that the accurate details should get to theCommittee of Vigilance, but in such a manner as to avoid suspicion that theinformation had been "planted. "

"Is there anybody we can trust on their rolls?" asked Terry. 

But it was reluctantly conceded that the Vigilantes had pretty well cleanedout the doubtful ones. Here again, the resourceful Jimmy Ware came to therescue. 

"I know your man--Morrell. He'll get it to them. As far as anybody knows, he hasn't taken sides at all. "

"Will you see him?" asked Terry. 

"I'll see him, " promised Jimmy Ware. 

LXVIII

By this time the Vigilante organization had pretty well succeeded ineliminating the few Law and Order sympathizers who had been bold enough toattempt to play the part of spy by signing the rolls. These had not beenmany, and their warning had been sufficient. But Morrell had, in a measure, escaped distrust even if he had not gained confidence. He had had the sensenot to join the organization; and his attitude of the slightlysupercilious, veiledly contemptuous Britisher, scorning all things abouthim, was sufficient guarantee of his neutrality. This breed was then verycommon. He left his conference with Jimmy Ware thoroughly instructed, quiteacquiescent, but revolving matters in his own mind to see if somehow hecould not turn them to his advantage. For Morrell was, as always, in needof money. In addition, he had a personal score to settle with Keith for, although he had apparently forgotten their last interview regarding"loans, " the memory rankled. And Morrell had not forgotten that before allthis Vigilante business broke he had been made a good offer by Cora'scounsel to get Keith out of the way. Cora was now very dead, to be sure;but on sounding Jimmy Ware, Morrell learned that Keith's removal wouldstill be pleasant to the powers that pay. 

If he could work these things all in together--Cogitating absorbedly, heglanced up to see Ben Sansome sauntering down the street, his malacca caneat the proper angle, his cylindrical hat resting lightly on his sleeklocks, his whole person spick with the indescribably complete appointmentof the dandy. Sansome was mixed up with the Keiths--perhaps he could beused--On impulse Morrell hailed him genially, and invited him to take adrink. The exquisite brightened, and perceptibly hastened his step. Morrell's rather ultra-Anglicism always fascinated him. They turned in atthe El Dorado, and there seated themselves at the most remote of the smalltables. 

"Well, " said Morrell cheerfully, after preliminary small talk had beendisposed of, "how goes the fair Nancy?"

Sansome's effeminately handsome face darkened. Things had in reality gonevery badly with the fair Nancy. Her revulsion against Sansome at the timeof the capture of the jail had been complete; and as is the case with realrevulsions, she had not attempted to conceal it. Sansome's carefulstructure, which had gained so lofty an elevation, had collapsed like theproverbial house of cards. His vanity had been cruelly rasped. And what hadbeen more or less merely a dilettante's attraction had been thereby changedinto a thwarted passion. 

"Damn the fair Nancy!" he cried, in answer to Morrell's question. 

Morrell's eyes narrowed, and he motioned quietly to the waiting black toreplenish the glasses. 

"With all my heart, damn her!" said he. "I agree with you; she's a snippy, cold little piece. Not my style at all. Not worth the serious attention ofa man like yourself. Who is it now, you sly dog?"

Sansome sipped at his drink; sighed sentimentally. 

"Cold--yes--but if the right man could awaken her--" he murmured. 

"Look here, Sansome, do you want that woman?"

Sansome looked at his companion haughtily; his eye fell; he drew circleswith the bottom of his glass. 

"By gad!" he cried with a sudden queer burst of fire; "I've got to haveher!"

And then he turned slowly red, actually started to wriggle, concealed hisembarrassment under cover of his cigar. 

"H'm, " observed Morrell speculatively, without looking across at Sansome. "Tell me, Ben, does she still care for her husband?"

"No; that I'll swear!" replied Sansome eagerly. 

"If you're sure of that one essential little fact, and you really want her, why don't you take her?"

"Damn it, ain't I telling you? She won't see me. "

"Tell me about it, " urged Morrell, settling back, and again motioning forfresh drinks. 

Sansome, whose soul was ripe for sympathy, needed little more urging. Hepoured out his tale, sometimes rushingly and passionately, again, as hissubmerged but still conventional self-consciousness straggled to thesurface, with shamefaced bravado. "By Gad!" he finished. "You know, I feellike a raw schoolboy, talkin' like this!"

Morrell leaned forward, his reserve of manner laid aside, his whole beingradiating sympathetic charm. 

"My dear chap, don't, " he begged, laying his hand on Sansome's forearm. "Agenuine passion is the most glorious thing on earth even in callow youth!But when we old men of the world--" The pause was eloquent. "She's aheadstrong filly, " he went on in a more matter-of-fact tone, after amoment, "takes a bit of handling. You'll pardon me, old chap, if I suggestthat you've gone about things a bit wrong. "

"How is that?" asked Sansome. Under the influence of drinks, confession, and sympathy, he was in a glow of fellow-feeling. 

"Believe me, I know women and horses! You've ridden this one too much onthe snaffle. Try the curb. That high-spirited sort takes a bit of handling. They like to feel themselves dominated. You've been too gentle, toorefined. She's gentle and refined for two. What she wants is the brute--'Rape of the Sabines' principle. Savage her a bit, and she'll come to heellike a dog. Not at once, perhaps. Give her a week. "

"That's all very well, " objected Sansome, whose eyes were shining, "but howabout that week? She'll run to that beast of a husband with her story--"

"And be sorry for it afterward--"

"Too late. "

Morrell appeared to think. 

"There's something in that. But suppose we arranged to get the husband outof the way, where she couldn't run to him at once--" he suggested. 

They had more drinks. At first Morrell was only sardonically amused; but ashis imagination got to working and the creative power awoke, his interestbecame more genuine. It was all too wildly improbable for words--and yet, was anything improbable in this impossible place? At least it was amusing, the whole thing was amusing--this super-refined exquisite awakened, to anemotion so genuine that what judgment he had was now obscured by theeagerness of his passion; the situation apparently so easily malleable; thebeautiful safety of it all for himself. And it did not really matter if thewhole fantastic plot failed!

"I tell you, no, " he broke his thoughts to reply to some ill-consideredsuggestion, "The good old simple methods are the best--they're all laid outfor us by the Drury Lane melodramas. You leave it to me to get rid of him. Then we'll send the usual message to her that he is lying woundedsomewhere--say at Jake's road house--"

"Won't that get her to thinking too much of him?" interrupted Sansomeanxiously. 

Morrell, momentarily taken aback, gained time for a reply by pouringSansome another drink, "He's more sense left than I thought, " he said tohimself; and aloud: "All you want is to get her out to Jake's. She'll gosimply as a matter of wifely duty, and all that. Don't worry. Once she'sthere, it's your affair; and unless I mistake my man, I believe you'll knowhow to manage the situation"--he winked slyly--"she's really mad about you, but, like most women, she's hemmed in by convention. Boldly break throughthe convention, and she'll come around. "

Sansome was plainly fascinated by the idea, but in a trepidation of doubt, nevertheless. 

"But suppose she doesn't come around?" he objected vaguely. 

Morrell threw aside his cigarette and arose with an air of decision. 

"I thought you were so crazy mad about her?" he said in tones that cut. "What are you wasting my time for?"

"No, no! Hold on!" cried Sansome, at once all fire again. "I'll do it--holdon!"

"As a matter of fact, " observed Morrell, reseating himself, and speaking asthough there had been no interruption, "I imagine you have little to fearfrom that. "

He went into the street a little later, his vision somewhat blurred, buthis mind clear. Sansome, by now very pot-valiant, swaggered alongside. 

"By the way, Ben, " said Morrell suddenly, "I hope you go armed--these arebad times. "

"I have always carried a derringer--and I can use it, too!" boastedSansome, swinging his cane. 

Morrell, left alone, stood on the corner for some time diligently engagedin getting control of himself. He laughed a little. 

"Regular bally melodrama, conspiracy and all, right off the blood-and-thunder stage, " said he. "Wonder if it works in real life? We'll see. "

After his head had cleared, he set to work methodically to find Keith, butwhen he finally met that individual it was most casually. Morrell wasapparently in a hurry, but as he saw Keith he appeared to hesitate, then, making up his mind, he approached the young lawyer. 

"Look here, Keith, a word with you, " he said. "I have stumbled on someinformation which may be important. I was on my way to the committee withit, but I'm in a hurry. The governor is shipping arms into the city to-morrow night from Benicia, by a small sloop. "

"Are you sure of this?" asked Keith. 

"Certain. "

"Where did you get the information?"

"That I cannot tell you. "

Keith still hesitated; Morrell turned on his heel. 

"Well, I've told you. You can do as you please, but you'd better let thecommittee decide whether to take the tip or not. " He walked away withoutonce looking back, certain that Keith would end by reporting theinformation, "Chances are he'll go with the capturing party, " ran the trend of histhoughts, "and so he'll be out of reach of this little abduction. But Idon't care much. If he follows them out to Jake's by any chance, Sansomewill shoot him--or he'll shoot Sansome. Doesn't matter which. Shootin'snone too healthy these days _for either side!_ Oh, Lord, most amusin'!"

He thought a while, then turned up the hill toward his own house. A newrefinement of the plot had occurred to the artist's soul too much drink hadreleased in him. 

Mrs. Morrell was vastly surprised to see him. She was clad in a formlesspink silk wrapper, was reclining on a sofa, and was settling down torelaxation of mind and body by means of French novels and cigarettes, "Well, what are you doing here at this time of day?" was her greeting. 

"Came to bask in the light of your smiles, my dear, " he replied withelephantine irony. 

"Nonsense!" she rejoined sharply, "You've been drinking again!"

"To be sure; but not enough to hurt. " His manner suddenly becamebusinesslike, "Look here, " he asked her, "are you game to make a tidy bitof money?"

"Always!" she replied promptly, also becoming businesslike. 

He explained in detail. She listened in silence at first with a slightsmile of contempt on her lips. As he progressed, however, the smile faded. 

"Where do I come in?" she asked finally. 

"You must be there when the message comes to her. She might not go out toJake's alone--probably wouldn't. I don't know her well enough to judge. Hurry her into it. "

"I see. " She laughed suddenly. "Lord, she'll be surprised when I call onher! Take some doing, that!" She thought a few moments. "My appearance willconnect us with it. Won't do. "

"If the thing goes through we won't be here, " he pointed out. "If itdoesn't go through all right, we'll arrange a little comedy. Have you boundand gagged--before her eyes--or something like that. "

"Thanks, " she replied to this. 

Morrell was not entirely open. He did not tell her that money or no money, plot or no plot, he had resolved to flee the city, at least for a time. Investigations were getting too close to some of his past activities. Hedid not offer in words what he nevertheless knew to be the most potent ofhis arguments--namely, the implacable hate Mrs. Morrell bore Keith. Morrell's knowledge of this hate was accurate, though his analysis of itscause was faulty. He thought his wife to be Keith's discarded mistress, anddid not greatly care. Nor did he mention the possibility which, however, Mrs. Morrell now voiced. 

"Suppose Keith follows them out to Jake's?" she suggested. 

"One of them will kill, and the Stranglers will hang the other, " he saidbriefly. 

She looked up. 

"I don't care for that!"

"In that event, you will not be present. Your job will be to duck out. " Hepaused, then went on slowly: "Would you grieve at the demise of either--orall three?"

Her face hardened. 

"But, " he went on slowly, "the chances of it are very remote. If there isany killing, it will come later. Keith will be kept out of the way. "

"And after?"

"You hint of an assignation. I will arrange for witnesses. "

"Where does the money come in?" she demanded. Morrell floundered for amoment. He had lost sight of the money. 

"It comes from certain parties who want Keith put out of the way, " he said. 

"And suppose Keith is not put out of the way?" she began, her facile mindpouncing on the weakness of this statement. "Never mind, " she interruptedherself. "I'll do it!" Her face had hardened again, "Can you depend onSansome to go through with it?"

"Only if he's fairly drunk. "

"Yes?"

"I'll attend to that. That is my job. You may not see me to-morrow; but goin the evening to call on her. "

"It looks absolutely preposterous, " she said at last, "but it may work. And, if any part of it works, that'll be enough. "

"Yes, " said he. 

They had both forgotten the money. 

LXIX

As Morrell had surmised, Keith decided to pass on the news for what it wasworth. The committee believed it, and was filled with consternation at theincredible folly of the projected show of armed force. 

"This is not peace, but war, " said Coleman, "which we are trying to avert!"

The Executive Committee went into immediate session. It was now evidentthat the disbanding would have to be indefinitely postponed. Anextraordinary program to meet the emergency was discussed piecemeal. One ofits details had to do with the shipment of arms from Benicia. The committeehere fell neatly into the trap prepared for it. In all probability no oneclearly realized the legal status of the muskets, but all supposed themalready to belong to the State that was threatening to use them. CharlesDoane, instructed to take the steps necessary to their capture, called tohim the chief of the harbour police. 

"Have you a small vessel ready for immediate service?" he asked this man. 

"Yes, a sloop, at the foot of this street. "

"Be ready to sail in half an hour. "

Doane then turned the job over to a trustworthy, quick-witted man namedJohn Durkee. The latter selected twelve to assist him, among whom wasKeith, at the latter's especial request. Morrell, loitering near, saw thisband depart for the water front, and followed them far enough to watch themembark, to witness the hoisting of the sloop's sails, and to see the craftheel to the evening breeze and slip away around the point. All things weregoing well. The committee suspected nothing of the plot to fasten the crimeof piracy on it; Keith was out of the way. Morrell turned on his heel andwalked rapidly to his rendezvous with Sansome. 

Durkee and his sloop beat for some hours against wind and tide; butfinally, so strong were both, he was forced to anchor in San Pablo Bayuntil conditions had somewhat modified. Finally, he was able to get underway again, A number of craft were sailing about, and one by one these wereoverhauled, commanded to lay to, and boarded in true piratical style. Itwas fun for everybody. The breeze blew in strongly from the Golden Gate, the waves chopped and danced merrily, the little sloop dipped her rail andflew along at a speed that justified her reputation as a racer, gullsfollowed curiously. But there were no practical results. Every sailingcraft they overhauled proved innocent, and either indignant or sarcastic. The sun dipped, and the short twilight of this latitude was almostimmediately succeeded by a brilliant night. Slowly the breeze died, untilthe little sloop could just crawl along. It grew chilly, and there was nofood aboard. A less persistent man than John Durkee would have feltjustified in giving it up and heading for home; but John had beeninstructed to cruise until he captured the arms; and he profanely announcedhis intention of so doing. 

In this he was more faithful to his superiors than the notorious RubeMaloney to his employers. It was to the interest of the Law and Order partythat Rube and his precious crew should be promptly and easily captured. They had been instructed to carry boldly and flagrantly, in full daylight, down the middle of the bay. But Terry's permission, to lay in"refreshments" at cost of the conspirators had been liberally interpreted. By six o'clock Rube had just sense enough left to drop anchor off PuebloPoint. There the three jolly mariners proceeded to celebrate; and therethey would probably have lain undiscovered had less of a bulldog thanDurkee been sent after them. 

As it was, midnight had passed before Durkee's keen eyes caught the loom ofsome object in the black mist close under the point. Quietly he eased offthe sheet and bore down on it. As soon as he ascertained definitely thatthe object was indeed a boat, he ran alongside. The twelve men boarded witha rush: they found themselves in possession of an empty deck. From thehatch came the reek of alcohol and the sound of hearty snoring. The capturewas made. 

In a half hour the transfer of the muskets and the three prisoners wasaccomplished. The latter offered no resistance, but seemed cross at beingawakened. Leaving the vessel anchored off the point, the little sloop stoodaway again for San Francisco, reaching the California Street wharf shortlyafter daylight. Here she was moored, and one of the crew was dispatched tothe committee for further instructions and grub. He returned after an hour, but was preceded somewhat by the grub. 

"They say to deliver the muskets at headquarters, " he reported, "but toturn the prisoners loose. "

"Turn them loose!" cried Durkee, astonished. 

"That's what they said, " repeated the messenger. "And here's writtenorders, " and he displayed a paper signed by the well-known "33, Secretary, "and bearing the Vigilante seal of the open eye. 

"All right, " acquiesced Durkee. "Now, you mangy hounds, you've got justabout twenty-eight seconds to make yourselves as scarce as your virtues. Scat!"

Rube and his two companions had several of the twenty-eight seconds tospare; but once they had lost sight of their captors, they moderated theirpace. They had been much depressed, but now they cheered up and swaggered. A few drinks restored them to normal, and they were able to put a good faceon the report they now made to their employers, all of whom, includingTerry, had gathered thus early to receive them. After all, things had gonewell: they had been actually captured, which was the essential thing, andit did not seem necessary to go into extraneous details. 

"Good!" cried Terry, who had come down from Sacramento personally tosuperintend the working out of this latest ruse. 

He was illegally absent from his court, meddling illegally with matters notin his jurisdiction. "Now we must get a warrant for piracy into the handsof the United States Marshal. Send him alone, with no deputies. When hemakes his deposition of resistance, then we shall see!"

The marshal found Durkee still at the wharf, seated on an upturned cask. 

"I have this warrant for your arrest!" he proclaimed in a voice purposelyloud. 

"Yes? Let's see it, " rejoined Durkee, lazily reaching out his hand. 

He read the document through leisurely. His features betrayed no hint ofhis thoughts, but nevertheless his brain was very active. He read that hewas accused of piracy against the might and majesty of the United StatesGovernment; and as his eyes slowly followed the involved and redundantlegal phraseology, he reviewed the situation. The nature, of the trapbecame to him, partly evident. There was no doubt that technically he was apirate, if these arms--as it seemed--belonged to the Government and not tothe State. The punishment of piracy was death. Without appreciation of thefact, the committee had made him liable to the death penalty. And he had nodoubt that the Federal Courts of California, as then constituted, wouldvisit that penalty on him. He raised his head and looked about him. Withincall were lounging a dozen resolute men belonging to the Committee ofVigilance. He had but to raise his voice to bring them to his assistance. Once inside Fort Gunnybags he knew that the committee would stand behindhim to the last man. 

But John Durkee had imagination as well as bulldog persistency. His mindflashed ahead into the future, envisaging the remoter consequences. He sawthe majesty of the law's forces invoked to back this warrant which thetremendous power of the disciplined Vigilantes would repulse; he sawreinforcements, summoned. What reinforcements? A smile flitted across hislips, and he glanced up at the warship _John Adams_ riding at anchoroutside, her guns, their tampons in place, staring blackly at the city. Hesaw the whole plot. 

"That's all right, " he told the waiting marshal, folding the warrant andreturning it to him. "Put your paper in your pocket. I'll go with you. "

By this quietly courageous and intelligent deed John Durkee completelyfrustrated the fourth and most dangerous effort of the Law and Order party. There was no legal excuse for calling on Federal forces to take one man--who peaceably surrendered!

Undoubtedly, had not matters taken the decided and critical turn soon to bedetailed, Durkee would have been immediately brought to trial, and perhapsexecuted. As it was, even the most rabid of the Law and Order party agreedit was inexpedient to press matters. The case was postponed again andagain, and did not come to trial until several months, by which time theVigilantes had practically finished their work. The law finally saved itsface by charging the jury that "if they believed the prisoners took thearms with the intention of appropriating them to their own use andpermanently depriving the owner of them, then they were guilty. But if theytook them only for the purpose of preventing their being used againstthemselves and their associates, then they were not guilty. " Under whichhair-splitting and convenient interpretation the "pirates" went free, andeverybody was satisfied!

LXX

After leaving the office where they had made their report to theiremployers, Rube Maloney and his two friends visited all the saloons. Therethey found sympathetic and admiring audiences. They reviled the committeecollectively and singly; bragged that they would shoot Coleman, Truett, Durkee, and some others at sight; flourished weapons, and otherwise becameso publicly and noisily obstreperous that the committee decided they neededa lesson. Accordingly they instructed Sterling Hopkins, with four others, to rearrest the lot and bring them in. Hopkins was a bulldog, pertinacious, rough, a faithful creature. 

News of these orders ran ahead of their performance. Rube and hissatellites dropped everything and fled to their masters like threateneddogs. Their masters, who included Terry, Bowie, Major Marmaduke Miles, anda few others, happened to be discussing the situation in the office ofRichard Ashe, a Texan, and an active member of "the chivalry. " The threeredoubtables burst in on this gathering, wild-eyed, scared, with, thestatement that a thousand stranglers were at their heels. 

"Better hide 'em, " suggested Bowie. 

But hot-headed Terry, seconded by equally hot-headed Ashe, would have noneof this. 

"By gad, let them try it!" cried the judge. "I've been aching for thischance!"

Therefore when Hopkins, having left his small _posse_ at the foot of thestairs, knocked and entered, he was faced by the muzzles of half a dozenpistols, and profanely told to get out of there. He was no fool, so heobeyed. If Terry had possessed the sense of a rooster, or a single qualityof leadership, he would have seen that this was not the moment toprecipitate a crisis. The forces of his own party were neither armed norready. But here, as in all other important actions of his career, he wasgoverned by the haughty and headstrong passions of the moment--as whenlater he justified himself in attempting to shoot down an old and unarmedman. Hopkins left his men at the foot of the stairs, borrowed a horse fromDr. Beverly Cole, who was passing, and galloped to headquarters. There hewas instructed to return, to keep watch, that reinforcements would follow. He arrived at the building in which Ashe's office was located, in time tosee Maloney, Terry, Ashe, McNabb, Bowie, and Rowe all armed with shotguns, just turning the far corner. He dismounted and called on his men to follow. The little _posse_ dogged the judge's party for some distance. For a timeno attention was paid to them, but as they pressed closer Terry, Ashe, andMaloney whirled and presented their shotguns. The movement was probablyintended only as a threat; but Hopkins, always bold to the point ofrashness, made a sudden rush at Maloney. Judge Terry thrust his gun at theVigilante officer who seized it by the barrel. At the same instant Ashepressed the muzzle of his weapon against one Bovee's breast, but hesitatedto pull the trigger. It was getting to be unhealthy to shoot men in theopen street. 

"Are you a friend?" he faltered. 

"Yes, " replied Bovee, and by a rapid motion struck the barrel aside. 

Another of the Vigilantes named Barry covered Rowe with a pistol. Rowe's"chivalry" oozed. He dropped his gun and fled toward the armoury. Theothers struggled for possession of weapons, but nobody fired. SuddenlyTerry whipped out a knife and plunged it into Hopkins's neck. Hopkinsrelaxed his hold on Terry's shotgun and staggered back. 

"I am stabbed! Take them, Vigilantes!" he cried. 

He sank to the pavement. Terry and his friends dropped everything and rantoward the armoury. Of the Vigilante _posse_ only Bovee and Barry remained, but these two pursued the fleeing Law and Order men to the very portals ofthe armoury itself. When the door was slammed in their faces, they took uptheir stand outside, they two holding within several hundred men! At theend of ten minutes a pompous, portly individual came up under full sail, cast a detached and haughty glance at the two quiet men loungingunwarrantedly in his path, and attempted to pass inside. 

"You cannot enter here, " said Bovee grimly, as they barred his way. 

The pompous man turned purple. 

"Do you know who I am?" he demanded. 

"I don't give a damn who you are, " replied Bovee, still quietly. 

"I am Major-General Volney E. Howard!"

"You cannot enter here, " repeated Bovee, and this time he said it in a toneof voice that sent the major-general scurrying away. 

After a short interval another man dashed up very much in a hurry. Mistaking Bovee and Barry for sentinels, he cried as he ran up:

"I am a lieutenant in Calhoun Bennett's company, and I have been sent hereto--"

"I am a member of the Committee of Vigilance, " interrupted Barry, "and youcannot enter. "

"What!" cried the officer, in astonishment. "Have the Vigilance Committeepossession of this building?"

"They have, " was the reply of the dauntless two. 

The lieutenant rolled up his eyes and darted away faster than he had come. A few moments later, doubtless to the vast relief of the "outside garrison"of the armoury within which five or six hundred men were held close by thismagnificent bluff, the great Vigilante bell boomed out: _one, two, three_, rest; then _one, two, three_, rest; and repeat. 

Immediately the streets were alive with men. Merchants left theircustomers, clerks their books, mechanics their tools. Dray-men strippedtheir horses of harness, abandoned their wagons where they stood, and rodeaway to their cavalry. Clancey Dempster's office was only four blocks fromheadquarters. At the first stroke of the bell he leaped from his desk, randown the stairs, and jumped into his buggy. Yet he could drive only threeof the four blocks, so dense already was the crowd. He abandoned his rig inthe middle of the street and forced his way through afoot. Two days laterhe recovered his rig. In the building he found the companies, silently, without confusion, falling into line. 

"All right!" he called encouragingly. "Keep cool! Take your time about it!"

"Ah, Mr. Dempster, " they replied, "we've waited long! This is the cleansweep!"

James Olney was lying in bed with a badly sprained ankle when the alarmbell began to toll. He commandeered one boot from a fellow-boarder withextremely large feet, and hobbled to the street. There he seized by forceof arms the passing delivery wagon of a kerosene dealer, climbed to theseat, and lashed the astonished horse to a run. San Francisco streets ranto chuck holes and ruts in those days, and the vehicle lurched and bangedwith a grand rattle and scatteration of tins and measures. The terrifieddriver at last mustered courage to protest. 

"You are spilling my kerosene!" he wailed. 

"Damn your kerosene, sir!" bellowed the general; then relenting: "I willpay you for your kerosene!"

Up to headquarters he sailed full tilt, and how he got through the crowdwithout committing manslaughter no one tells. There he was greeted by wildcheering, and was at once lifted bodily to the back of a white horse, theconspicuous colour of which made it an excellent rallying point. 

Within an incredibly brief space of time they were off for the armoury; themilitary companies marching like veterans; the artillery rumbling over therude pavements; the cavalry jogging along to cover the rear. A huge roaringmob accompanied them, followed them, raced up the parallel streets toarrive before the armoury at the same moment as the first files. 

The armoury square was found to be deserted except for the intrepid Barryand Bovee, who still marched back and forth before the closed door. No onehad entered or left the building. 

Inside the armoury the first spirit of bravado and fight-to-the-last-ditchhad died to a sullen stubbornness. Nobody had much, to say. Terry was verycontrite as well he might be. A judge of the Supreme Court, who had nobusiness being in San Francisco at all, sworn to uphold the law, hadstepped out from his jurisdiction to commit as lawless and idiotic a deedof passion as could have been imagined! Whatever chances the Law and Orderparty might have had, could they have mobilized their forces, weredissipated. Their troops were scattered in small units; their rank and filewere heaven knew where; their enemies, fully organized, had been musteredby the alarm bell to full alertness and compactness. And Terry's was thehand that had struck that bell! For the only time in his recorded historyDavid Terry's ungoverned spirit was humbled. Until he found that nothingimmediate was going to happen to him, and while under the silent butscathing disapprobation of his companions, he actually talked of resigning!Parenthetically, the fit did not last long, and he soon reared, his haughtycrest as high as ever. But now, listening to the roar of the mob outside, peeping at the grim thousands of armed men deploying before the armoury, heregretted his deed. 

"This is very unfortunate; very unfortunate!" he said, "But you shall notimperil your lives for me. It is I they want. I will surrender to them. "

Instead of the prompt expostulation he expected, a dead silence greetedthese words. 

"There is nothing else to do, " agreed Ashe at last. 

An officer was sent to negotiate. 

"We will deliver up the armoury if you will agree not to give us over tothe mob, " he told the committee. 

"We hold, and intend to hold, the mob under absolute control. We havenothing in common with mobs, " was Coleman's reply. 

The doors were then thrown open, and a company of the Vigilante troopsmarched in. Within ten minutes, the streets were cleared. The six hundredprisoners, surrounded by a solid body of infantry with cavalry on theflanks, were marched to headquarters. The city was jubilant. This, at last, was the clean sweep! Men went about with shining faces, slapping each otheron the back. And Coleman, the wise general, realizing that compromises wereuseless, peace impossible, came to a decision. Shortly from headquartersthe entire Vigilante forces moved in four divisions toward the cardinalpoints of the compass. From them small squads were from time to timedetached and sent out to right or left. The main divisions surrounded theremaining four big armouries; the smaller squads combed the city house byhouse for arms. In the early morning the armouries capitulated. By sun-upevery weapon in the city had been taken to Fort Gunnybags. 

LXXI

Up to this time Nan Keith had undergone the experience of nine out of tenmarried women in early California: that is, she had been neglected. Neglectin some form or other was the common lot of the legally attached feminine. How could it logically be otherwise? In the turbulent, varied, restless, intensely interesting, deeply exciting life of the pioneer city only apoor-spirited, bloodless, nerveless man would have thought to settle downto domesticity. A quiet evening at home stands small chance, even in anold-established community, against a dog fight on the corner or a fire inthe next block; and here were men fights instead, and a great, splendid, conflagration of desires, appetites, and passions, a grand clash ofinterests and wills that burned out men's lives in the space of a fewyears. It was a restless time, full of neglected women. This neglect variedin degree to be sure. Nan was lucky there. No other woman had thrust herway in, no other attraction lured Keith from her, as had happened to somany others. She possessed all his interest. But at present that interestseemed so attenuated, so remote!

After her revulsion of feeing the afternoon the Vigilantes first rose intheir might, she withdrew within her pride. Nan was no meek and humblespirit. But the scales had dropped from her eyes as to affairs about her. San Francisco suddenly became something besides a crude collection ofbuildings. For the first time she saw it as a living entity, strong in thethroes of growth. She devoured eagerly all the newspapers, collected avidlyall the rumours. Whenever possible, she discussed the state of affairs; butthis was difficult, for nearly every one was strongly partisan for one sideor another, and incapable of anything but excitement and vituperation. TheSherwoods were a great comfort to her here. While approving of the newmovement, they nevertheless refused to become heated, and retained a spiritof humour. Sherwood was not a member of the Committee of Vigilance, but hehad subscribed heavily--and openly--to its funds; he had assisted it withhis counsels; and it was hinted that, sub-rosa, he had taken part in someof the more obscure but dangerous operations. 

"I am an elderly, peace-loving, respectable citizen, " he told Nan, "and Istand unequivocably for law and order and for justice, for the orderlydoing of things; and against violence, mob spirit, and high-handedness. "

"Why, John Sherwood!" cried Nan, up in arms at once. "I'd never havebelieved you could be on the side of Judge Terry and that stripe. "

"Oho!" cried Sherwood, delighted to have drawn her. "Now we have it! Butwhat made you think I was on that side?"

"Why--didn't you just say--"

"Oh, " said Sherwood comfortably, "I was using real meanings, not just wordtags. In my opinion real law and order, orderly doing of things, _etcetera_, are all on the other side. "

"And the men--" cried Nan, aglow. 

"The men are of course all noble, self-sacrificing, patriotic, immaculatedemigods who--" He broke off, chuckling at Nan's expression. "No, seriously, I think they are doing a fine work, and that they'll go down inhistory. "

"You're an old dear!" cried Nan, impulsively kissing his cheek. 

"Take care, " he warned, "you're endangering my glasses and making my wifejealous. "

Nan drew back, a little ashamed at having shown her feelings; and ratherastonished herself at their intensity. 

In the course of these conversations the pendulum with her began again toquiver at the descent. Through the calmly philosophical eye of the ex-gambler, John Sherwood, she partly envisaged the significance of what washappening--the struggling forth of real government from the sham. Her owntroubles grew small by comparison. She began to feel nearer Keith in spiritthan for some time past, to understand him better, even--though this wasdifficult--to get occasionally a glimpse of his relations toward herself. It was all very inchoate, instinctive, unformed; rather an instinct than aclear view. She became restless; for she had no outlet either for her ownexcitement or the communicated excitement of the times. It was difficult towait, and yet wait she must. For what? She did not know!

On the crucial June evening she sat by the lamp trying in vain toconcentrate her attention on a book. The sound of the door bell made herjump. She heard Wing Sam's shuffle, and his cheerful greeting which all hertraining had been unable to eliminate. Wing Sam always met every callerwith a smiling "Hello!" A moment later she arose in some surprise as Mrs. Morrell entered the room. 

Relations between the women had never been broken off, though the pretenceof ordinary cordiality had long since been dropped. When Mrs. Morrell foundit expedient to make this call, she spent several hours trying to invent aplausible excuse. She was unable to do so. Finally she gave it up in angrydespair. 

"As long as it is not too bald, what difference does it make?" she said toherself cynically. 

And out of this desperation, and by no means from cleverness, she hit onthe cleverest thing possible. Instead of coming to make a friendly call, she pretended to be on an errand of protest. 

"It's about your dog, " she told Nan, "he's a dear good dog, and a greatfriend of ours. But cannot you shut him up nights? He's inclined to prowlaround under my windows, and just the sound of him there keeps me awake. Iknow it's foolish; but I am so nervous these days--"

"Why, of course, " said Nan with real contrition. "I'd no idea--"

Gringo was at the moment ingratiating himself with Wing Sam _in re_ onesoup bone of no use to anybody but dogs. If he could have heard Mrs. Morrell's indictment, he would have been both grieved and surprised: Gringonever prowled anywhere. Like most rather meaty individuals, he was a verysound sleeper; and in the morning he often felt a little uneasy in hisconscience as to the matter of stray trespassing cats or such small fry. Hehad every confidence that his instincts would warn him of really importantthings, like burglars. Still, the important things are not all of life, norburglars all the duty of a dog. 

Having slandered the innocent Gringo, Mrs. Morrell stayed for a chat. Apparently she was always just on the point of departure, but never went. Nan, being, as she thought, in the wrong as to the worthy Gringo, tried herbest to be polite, but was miserably conscious of being snippy. 

At the end of an hour the door bell rang again. If Nan had been watching, she might have seen Mrs. Morrell's body relax as though from a tension. After a moment Wing Sam shuffled into the room carrying a soiled foldedpaper. 

"Man he tell you lead this chop-chop, " said he. 

Murmuring an apology, Nan opened the paper. With a cry she sprang to herfeet. Her face had gone white. 

"What is it?" cried Mrs. Morrell in apparent anxiety. 

Without a word Nan extended the paper. Written in pencil were these words:

 MADAM: Your husband has been injured in an attempt at arrest. He wants me to tell you he is at Jake's Place hurt bad. With respects. JOHN Q. ALDER. 

For an instant Mrs. Morrell did not dare look up. She was thoroughly angryat what she thought to be her husband's stupidity. 

"Why, that wouldn't deceive a child!" she thought contemptuously. 

"How dreadful! Who is Alder?" she said, merely to say something. 

Nan shook her head. 

"I don't know, " she replied rather wildly. "One of the Vigilantes, Isuppose. I must go out there. At once!"

She ran to the hall where she began to rummage for cloaks. Mrs. Morrellfollowed her in wonderment. She was going to take this crude bait afterall! Mrs. Morrell had not the slightest idea Nan still loved her husband. 

"You can't go alone!" she cried in apparent sympathy. "You poor child!Jake's Place--at this time of night!"

"I'd go to hell if he needed me there!" cried Nan. 

Mrs. Morrell became suddenly capable and commanding. 

"Then I shall go with you, " she announced firmly. 

"Oh, you're good to me!" cried Nan, full of contrition, and feeling, beneath her anxiety, that she had misjudged her neighbour's heart. 

Mrs. Morrell took charge. She lit the lantern, led the way to the stable, did the most toward harnessing the horse. They made rather a mess of it, but the horse was gentle and reliable. When they had backed the buggy outof the barn, she insisted on driving. 

"You're in no fit condition, " she told Nan, and Nan obediently climbed inbeside her. 

The drive was made in silence, except that occasionally Nan urged hurry. She sat bolt upright, her hands clasped in her lap, her figure rigid, trying to keep hold of herself. At Jake's Place a surly hostler appearedand led away their horse. Jake's Place was in darkness save for one lightedroom on the ground floor and a dimly illuminated bar at the other end. 

It is but just to a celebrated resort that had seen and was still to seemuch of life to say that it knew nothing of the plot. Sansome had engagedthe ground-floor parlour, and ordered a fire and drinks. Morrell hadcommanded a little supper for later. Now two ladies appeared. This was allnormal. Without drinks, little suppers, and the subsequent appearance ofladies, Jake's Place would soon have languished. 

Nan leaped over the wheel to the ground as soon as the buggy had stopped, and before the dilatory hostler had cramped aside the wheel. 

"Where is he?" she demanded breathlessly. The hostler jerked a thumb at thelighted windows. Without a word Nan ran up the steps and to the door. Thehostler looked after her flying figure, then grinned up at Mrs. Morrell. 

"Yum! yum!" said he, "but she's the eager little piece!"

Mrs. Morrell gave him a coin, and as he moved away with the horse, she, too, ran up the steps. Nan had entered the parlour door, leaving it openbehind her. Mrs. Morrell closed it again, and locked it. Then, with acertainty that proved her familiarity with the place, she walked down thelength of the veranda to a hall, which she entered. 

Nan had burst into a parlour with an open fire. Before it stood a smalltable crowded with bottles and glasses. Sansome rose, rather unsteadily, from one of the easy chairs. Nan uttered an exclamation of relief as sherecognized him. 

"Oh, I'm glad you're here!" she cried. "This is kind! How is he? Where ishe?"

LXXII

Morrell had no easy day with Ben Sansome. He had been forced to spend thewhole of it with his protégé, save for the hour he had devoted to seeingKeith off on the piratical expedition. It was a terrible bore. In turn hehad played on the youth's pique, the supposed insult to his manhood, hisdesire for the woman. Sansome was not naturally a valiant adventurer; buthe had an exceedingly touchy vanity, which, with a little coddling, answered nearly as well. Morrell took the confident attitude that, ofcourse, Sansome was not afraid; therefore Sansome was ashamed to be afraid. 

"For the moment, " said the Englishman, "she's carried away by the glamourof this Vigilante movement. They seem to her strong men. She contrasts themwith us men of the world, and as she cannot see that a polished exterior isnot incompatible with strength, she has a faint growing contempt for us. Women like strength, masterfulness. It is the chance of your life to showher that a man _comme il faut_ is the equal of these squalid brutes in thatrespect. She is in love with you already, but she doesn't know it. All thatis necessary is a show of masterfulness to make her realize it. " He stifleda yawn. "Lord, what dreary piffle!" he confided to himself. He paintedKeith as a contemptible renegade from his own class, currying favour withthose below him, a cheap demagogue, a turncoat avid for popular power. 

"At heart he's a coward--all such men are. And he's so wrapped up in hisambition that his wife is a small matter to him. There's no danger fromhim, for he's away; and after the first flare-up we'll be able to handlehim among us, never fear!" But after impressing this point, Morrell alwayswas most careful to interpose the warning: "If it should come to trouble, don't let him get near you! He's absolutely rotten with a gun--you saw himin that farce of a duel--but he's a strong beggar. Don't let him get hishands on you!"

"I won't, " promised Sansome, a trifle shakily. 

Then Morrell, lighting a fresh cigar and fortifying his bored soul withanother drink, skilfully outlined a portrait of Sansome himself as a hero, a dashing man of the world, a real devil among the ladies, the haughty andproud exponent of aristocratic high-handedness. He laid this on prettythick, but Sansome had by now consumed a vast number of drinks, and wasready to swallow almost anything in addition. Morrell's customary demeanourwas rather stolid, silent, and stupid; but when he was really interestedand cared to exert himself, he became unexpectedly voluble and plausible. Mid-evening he drove this creature of his own fashioning out to Jake'sPlace, and deposited him in the parlour with the open fire, the table ofdrinks, and the easy chairs. 

His plans from this point on were based on the fact that he had startedKeith out on an expedition that should last all night. Had there been theslightest chance that the injured husband could appear, you may be sureMorrell would not have been present. Of course witnesses were necessary tothe meeting at the road house. With Keith imminent, hirelings would havebeen arranged for. With Keith safety away, Morrell saw no reason why heshould not enjoy the situation himself. Therefore he had arranged a littlesupper party. Teeny McFarlane and Jimmy Ware were his first thought. Thenhe added Pop McFarlane. If he wanted Teeny as a witness, the party must berespectable!

At the sound of wheels outside Morrell arose and slipped out the back doorof the parlour. 

"Now, remember!" he told Sansome from the doorway. "Now's the chance ofyour life! You've got her love, and you must keep her. She'll cut up roughat first. That's when you must show what's in you. Go right after her!"

As Nan burst into the room by one door he softly closed--and locked--theother behind him. 

LXXIII

But Sansome, although he had put up a brave front to the last moment, wasnot in reality feeling near the hero of romance he looked. In spite ofMorrell's cleverness, the Englishman had failed to observe that Sansome hadtouched the fringe of that second stage of semi-drunkenness when the"drinks were dying on him. " While outwardly fairly sober, inwardly he wasverging toward the incoherent. First one phase or mood would come to thetop, then another, without order; sequence, or logical reason. He wasmomentarily dangerous or harmless. Nan's abrupt entrance scattered his lastcoherences. For the moment he fell back on habit, and habit was with himconventional He smiled his best smile. 

"Do sit down, " he urged in his most society manner. 

This immediately convinced Nan that Keith must be badly hurt. 

"Tell me at once!" she demanded "Where is Milton? Is he--is--"

"As far as I know, " replied Sansome, still in his courtly manner, "Mr. Keith is in perfect health. As to where he is"--he waved an airy hand--"Ido not know. It does not matter, does it? The point is we are cozy heretogether. Do sit down. "

"I don't understand, " said she, advancing a step nearer, her brows knit, "Don't put me off. I got a note saying--"

"I know; I wrote it, " boasted Sansome fatuously. 

The blood mounted her face, her fists clenched, she advanced several stepsfearlessly. 

"I don't, quite understand, " she repeated, in hard, crisp tones. "You wroteit?' Isn't it true? What did you do such a thing for?"

"To get you here, my dear, of course, " rejoined Sansome gallantly. "I knewyour puritanical scruples--I love them every one--but--"

"Do you mean to say you dared decoy me here!" challenged Nan, all aflame. Her whole emotion was one of rage. It did not occur to her to be afraid ofBen Sansome, the conventional, the dilettante exquisite, without thegumption to say boo to a goose!

This Sansome answered her, the habit of society strong within him. Hebecame deprecatory, pleading, almost apologetic. His manners were on topand his rather weak nature quailed before the blaze of her anger. 

"I know it was inexcusable, " he babbled, "but what could I do? I am madabout you! Do forgive me! Just sit down for a few moments. I don't blameyou for being angry--any one is angry at being deceived--but do forgive me. If you'll only consider why I did it, you won't be angry. That's right, " heended soothingly, seeing that she neither spoke nor moved, "Just sit rightdown here and be comfortable. It must be cold driving. Let me give you aglass of sherry. " He fussed about, shoving forward an armchair, arrangingpillows, unstopping the decanter. 

"You fool!" she ejaculated in a low voice. She looked him all up and down, and turned to go. 

The door was locked! For the first time she noticed that Mrs. Morrell hadnot followed her in. Her heart fluttered in sudden panic, which shesubdued. She moved toward the other door. 

The words, and especially the frustration of her intention, brought anothermood to the surface of Sansome's intoxication. The polished society manwith the habit of external unselfishness disappeared. Another Sansome, whomNan did not recognize, sprang to take his place. 

"No, you don't!" he snarled. "That door's locked, too. You don't get out ofhere until I choose to let you out!"

"You'll let me out; and you'll let me out right now, or I'll call forhelp, " said Nan determinedly. 

Sansome deliberately seated himself, stretching his legs out straightbefore him, his hands in his pockets. This was the masterful role he hadseen himself playing, and he instinctively took the attitude approved bythe best melodramatic masters. 

"Call all you please, " he sneered. "Nobody's going to pay any attention toyour calls at Jake's Place!"

Nan's heart went cold as she realized the complete truth of this. She wasbeginning to know fear. This was a new sort of creature before her, onewith which she was acquainted only by instinct. She did not know what to donext, except that she saw surely that open opposition would only aggravatethe situation. 

"I must gain time!" she told herself, though to what end she could not havesaid. 

Her pulses beat wildly, but she forced herself to a specious calmness. 

"But Ben, " she said as naturally as she could, "why did you do so foolish athing as this? It might make all kinds of trouble. You can always see me atthe house; you know that. Why did you get me out on this mad expedition? Ifwe were to be seen here by anybody we would be deeply compromised. "

The words reminded her of Mrs. Morrell; but out of sheer terror sheresolutely thrust that idea from her mind. At this appeal Sansome suddenlybecame maudlin. 

"You've treated me like a dog lately--a yellow dog!" he mourned. "What gooddid it do to go to your house and be treated like a yellow dog?"

Nan's faculties were beginning to rally after the first panic. Her heartwas still thumping violently, but her eyes were bright, and her fightingcourage was flowing back. For the first time his obvious conditionregistered on her brain. 

"He's drunk!" she thought. 

This discovery at first induced in her another, small panic. Then hercourage boldly took it as a point of attack. The man was drunk anddangerous; very well, let us make him more drunk and less dangerous. Thatwas a desperate enough expedient, but at least it was definite. She crosseddeliberately to the other easy chair, and sat down. 

"Well, let's sit down, " she agreed. "No!" more decidedly, "you sit there, on the other side. It's more cozy, " she continued, at just the right momentto get her effect on his instinct of good manners. "Now, I will have thatsherry. No, don't bother; it is next my hand. You must drink with me. Letme pour it for you--with my own hands--aren't you flattered?"

She smiled across at him. This sudden reversion to an easy every-day planehad brought Sansome's first mood again to the surface. In this atmosphereof orderly tête-à-tête he was again the society man. Nan breathed freer. Hemurmured something inane and conventional about Hebe. 

"Meaning you're a little tin god?" she chaffed. 

He said something still more involved, to the effect that her presencewould make a god out of the most unworthy mortal. It was all vapid, unreal, elaborate, artificial. 

"If I can only keep him at this!" thought she desperately. 

She had drunk her glass of sherry because she felt she needed it. Now shepoured another, and without comment, refilled Sansome's whiskey glass. 

"Here's to us!" she cried, lifting her glass. 

Nan's plan of getting him so drunk that he would not interfere with herescape had the merit of simplicity, and also of endorsement by suchexcellent authority as melodrama and the novel. It had the defect of beingentirely theoretical. Nan's innocence of the matter in hand had not takeninto account the intermediate stages of drunkenness, nor did she realizethe strength inherent in the association of ideas. As she leaned forward tofill the glasses, Sansome's eyes brightened. He had seen women pouring winemany times before. The picture before him reminded him of a dozen similarpictures taken from the gallery of his rather disreputable past. Hiselaborate complimentary mood vanished. He pledged her ardently, and deep inhis eyes began to burn a secret covetous flame. Nan poured her, sherryunder the table. 

"This really is a cozy party!" she cried. "Will you have another with me?"

The third glass of neat whiskey whirled in Sansome's head. He was vergingtoward complete drunkenness, but in the meantime became amorous. His eyesburned, his lips fell apart. Nan tried in desperation to keep on a plane oflight persiflage, to hold him to his chair and to the impersonal. Deep fearentered her. She urged more drink on him, hoping that he would beoverpowered. It was like a desperate race between this man's passions andthe deep oblivion that reached for them. Her mouth was dry, and her brainwhirled. Only by the greatest effort could she prevent herself from flyingto pieces. Sansome hardly appeared to hear her. He wagged his head at her, looking upon her with swimming, benevolent eyes. Suddenly, without warning, he sprang up, overturning with a crash the small table and the bottles andglasses. 

"By God, you're the most beautiful woman I ever saw!" he cried. "Comehere!"

He advanced on her, his eyes alight. She saw that the crisis had come, andthrew aside all pretence. 

"Keep away! Keep away!" she warned him through, gritted teeth; then, as hecontinued to stumble toward her, she struck at him viciously again andagain with one of the small light chairs. 

For a moment or so she actually managed to beat him off; but he lungedthrough the blows and seized her around the shoulders. 

"Reg'lar little tiger cat!" he murmured with fond admiration. 

His reeking breath was on her neck as he sought her mouth. She threw herhead back and to one side, fighting desperately and silently, tearing athim with her hands, writhing her body, lowering her head as he forced heraround, kicking at his shin. The man's strength was as horrible as it wasunexpected. The efforts to which she was giving her every ounce did notappear to have the slightest effect on him, His handsome weak facecontinued to smile foolishly and fondly down on her. 

"Reg'lar little tiger cat!" he repeated over and over. 

The terrible realization dawned on her that he was too much for her. Herbody suddenly went lax. She threw back her and screamed. 

LXXIV

The plot which Morrell had first suggested idly and as sort of a joke, butwhich later he had entered into with growing belief, was quite perfect inall details but one: he assumed that Keith had accompanied Durkee'sexpedition, and was sure that he had seen the young lawyer off. As a matterof fact, Keith had been recalled. A messenger had at the very last momenthanded him an order sealed with the well-known open eye, and signed "33Secretary. " It commanded him to proceed with certain designated men to thearrest of certain others inscribed on the black list. This was a directorder, whereas the present expedition was wholly a voluntary affair. Keithhad no alternative but to obey, though he did so reluctantly, for thissearch for arms had promised sport. Therefore, he stepped ashore at thelast instant; a proceeding unobserved by Morrell, who was surveying thescene from a distance, and who turned away once the sails were hoisted. 

The duty to which Keith had been assigned took some time. The men had to besearched out one by one, escorted to headquarters, and the usualformalities there accomplished. It was late in the evening before he wasfree to go home. He let himself in with his latchkey, and had just turnedup the low-burning gas in the hall when the sound of hurrying feet broughthim back to the door. He flung it open to confront Mrs. Sherwood andKrafft. They were both panting as though they had run some distance andKrafft's usually precise attire was dishevelled and awry, as though it hadbeen hastily put on. 

"Nan!" gasped Mrs. Sherwood. "Is she here?"

Keith, with instant decision, asking no questions, threw open the parlourdoor, glanced within, ran upstairs three steps at a time, but almostimmediately returned after a hasty inspection of the upper story. His facehad gone very pale, but he had himself in perfect control. 

"Well?" he demanded crisply, looking from one to the other. 

But Mrs. Sherwood did not stop to answer. With a stifled exclamation shedarted from the house. Krafft looked after her, bewildered. Keith shook himsavagely by the shoulder. 

"Speak up, man! Quick! What is it?" demanded Keith. His voice was vibrantwith suppressed excitement, but he held himself outwardly calm, and waitedimmobile until the end of Krafft's story. It was characteristic of him asof all strong men in a crisis that he made no move whatever until he wassure he had grasped the whole situation. 

Krafft was just going to bed--he always retired early--when he was calledto the door by Mex Ryan. Mex had never come to his house before. He was ashoulder striker and a thug; but he had one sure streak of loyalty in thatnothing could ever induce him to go back on a pal. For various reasons heconsidered Krafft a pal. He was very much troubled. 

"Look here, boss, " he said to Krafft, "It just come to my mind a while ago:what was the name of that bloke you told me to keep off'n? The Cora trialman, I mean. "

Krafft recalled the circumstance, and named Keith. 

Mex slapped his head. 

"That's right! It come to me afterward. Well, there's dirty work with hiswife. That's where I see the name, on the outside of the note. I just giveher a fake letter that says her husband is shot, and she's to go to him. "

"How did he know what the letter said?" interjected Keith at this point. 

"He'd read anything given him, of course. Mex knew the letter was false. Icame up to find your house. I didn't know where you lived, so I stopped atJohn Sherwood's to inquire. Mrs. Sherwood was home alone. She came withme. "

"Where did this letter say I was supposed to be?" asked Keith, "Jake's Place. "

"My God!" cried Keith, and leaped for the door. At the same instant Mrs. Sherwood's voice was heard from the darkness. 

"Come here, " she cried, "I have a rig. "

They found her seated in a buggy. Both climbed in beside her. Keith tookthe reins, and lashed the horse with the light whip. The astonished animalleaped; the buggy jerked forward. 

Then began a wild, careering, bumpy ride into the night. The road wasfearful and all but invisible. The carriage swayed and swung dangerously. Keith drove, every faculty concentrated. No one spoke. The dim and ghostlyhalf-guessed forms of things at night streamed past. 

"Who sent that letter?" demanded Keith finally. 

"Mex wouldn't tell me, " replied Krafft. 

"How long ago did he deliver it?"

"About an hour. "

The horse plunged frantically under the lash as this reply reached Keith. The buggy was all but overturned. He pulled the frantic animal down to aslower pace, and with an obvious effort regained control of himself. 

"Can't afford an accident!" he warned himself. 

"Are you armed?" Mrs. Sherwood asked him suddenly. 

"Yes--no, I left my gun at headquarters--that doesn't matter. "

Mrs. Sherwood made no comment. The wind caught her hair and whipped itabout. In the distance now twinkled the lights of Jake's Place. Keith tooka firmer grip on the reins, and again applied the whip. They swept into thegravelled driveway on two wheels, righted themselves, and rounded to theveranda. Keith pulled up and leaped to the ground. Nobody was visible. Fromthe veranda he turned on them. 

"Here, you!" he commanded Mrs. Sherwood sharply, "I can't have you in thisrow! Stay here, outside. You take care of her, " he told Krafft. "No, I meanit!"

On his words a scream burst from the lighted room. Keith sprang to thedoor, found it locked, and drew back. With a low mighty rush he thrust hisshoulder against the panel near the lock. The wood splintered. He sprangforward into the room. 

LXXV

After turning the key in the lock outside the parlour door Mrs. Morrellslipped along the dark veranda, passed through a narrow hall, and entered asmall back sitting-room. Jake's Place especially abounded in sitting-rooms. This particular one was next the parlour, so that one listening intentlycould be more or less aware of what was going on in the larger room. HereMorrell was already seated, a bottle of beer next his hand. He raised hiseyebrows on her entrance, and she nodded back reassuringly. She, too, satdown and helped herself to beer. Both smoked. For a long time neither saidanything. 

"Don't hear much in there, " observed Mrs. Morrell finally, in a low guardedtone. 

"Not a sound, " agreed Morrell. "You don't suppose she--"

"No, I don't think so. "

"Then I don't see what ails that fool, Sansome! It'd be just like him tojib. "

"What does it matter?" observed Mrs. Morrell philosophically, "We don'tcare what is happening inside as long as those two doors stay locked untilTeeny and Jimmy Ware get here. "

As has been mentioned, Pop McFarlane was also of the party; but, characteristically, neither would have thought that fact worth mentioning. 

"Just the same, as a matter of academic interest, I'd have expected her tomake more of a row, " said Morrell. "I'll wager for all her airs she runsthe same gait as all the rest of you. "

"Do you mean me?" demanded Mrs. Morrell, her eyes flashing dangerously. 

"Moderate your voice, my dear, " advised he. "My remark was wholly generalof your charming sex. "

From the parlour now they heard faintly the first sounds of struggle. 

"That's more like, " he said with satisfaction. "I hate to have my idealsshattered. "

Wheels became audible. 

"There's Teeny, now, " he observed, arising. He sauntered down the hall andlooked out. "Keith!" he whispered back over his shoulder. "Where in helldid he come from?" He continued to peer into the darkness. "There's twoothers. Well, at any rate, we have plenty of witnesses!" He turned to Mrs. Morrell. "You'd better make yourself scarce. You locked that door, youknow!"

"Scarce!" she repeated, staring at him. "Where? How?"

He looked at her through narrowed lids. 

"Get a horse of Jake, " he said at last. "I'll meet you--oh, at the house. We'll arrange later. "

He watched her rather opulent figure steal down the dim hallway. A cynicalsmile flashed under his moustache. He turned back to the drama before him. The buggy had disappeared; the veranda was apparently empty. 

"Now I wonder who will shoot who?" speculated Morrell. 

He stole to the first of the windows. The lower blinds were drawn, but theupper half of the window was clear. Morrell cautiously placed a stoolnearby, and mounted it so he could see into the room. For several minuteshe watched. Then his hand stole to his pocket. He produced a revolver. 

LXXVI

Blinded by the light, Keith stood for a barely appreciable moment in thewrecked doorway. Sansome, startled by the crash, relaxed his efforts. Nanthrust him from her so strongly that he staggered back. Keith's visioncleared. He appreciated the meaning of the tableau, uttered a choked growl, and advanced. 

Immediately Sansome drew and presented his weapon. He was shocked fartoward sobriety, but the residue of the whiskey fumes in combination with asudden sick and guilty panic imbued him with a sort of desperation. Sansomewas a bold and dashing villain only as long as things came his way. Hisamours had always been of the safe rather than the wildly adventurous sort. Sansome had no morals; but being found out produced effects so closelyresembling those of conscience that they could not be distinguished. In thechaotic collapse of this heroic episode he managed to cling to but onething. That was Morrell's often reiterated warning: "Don't let Keith gethis hands on you!"

At the sight of his levelled weapon, Nan, who was nearest, uttered astifled cry and made as though to throw herself on him. 

"Stop!" commanded Keith, without looking toward her. But so quietlyauthoritative was his voice and manner that in spite of herself her impulsewas checked. She remained rigid. 

Keith advanced steadily on Sansome, his hands clenched at his side, hiseye's fixed frowningly and contemptuously on those of the other man. Thepistol barrel was held on his breast. Sansome fully intended to shoot, butfound himself unable to pull the trigger. This is a condition everyrifleman knows well by experience; he calls it being "frozen on the bull'seye, " when, the alignment perfect, his rifle steady as a rock, henevertheless cannot transmit just the little nerve power necessary to crookthe forefinger. Three times Sansome sent the message to his trigger finger;three times the impulse died before it had compassed the distance betweenhis brain and his hand. This was partly because his correlations had beenweakened by the drink; partly because his fuddled mind was divided betweenfear, guilt, despair, and a rage at himself for having got into such amess; but principally because he was hypnotically dominated by the otherman's stronger personality. 

So evident was this that a sudden feeling of confidence replaced in Nan thesick terror at the sight of the weapon. She seemed to know positively thathere was no real peril. A wave of contempt for Sansome, even as a dangerouscreature, mingled with a passionate admiration for the man who thusdominated him unarmed. 

Sansome's nerve broke. He dropped his hand, looked to right and leftfrantically like a rat in a corner, uttered a very ratty squeak. Suddenlyhe hurled the loaded pistol blindly at Keith, and plunged bodily, with animmense crash of breaking glass, through the closed window. Keith, with asnarl of baffled rage, dashed forward. 

The sight seemed to touch Nan's sense of humour. She laughed at thepicture, caught her breath, gasped. Keith whirled and snatched her fiercelyin his arms. 

"Nan!" he cried in an agony, "are you all right? What did that beast--"

She clung to him, still choking, on the edge of hysterics. In a moment ofillumination she realized that the intangible barrier these past years hadso slowly built between them had gone crashing down before the assault ofthe old love triumphant. 

"I'm all right, dear, " she gasped; "really all right. And I never was sohappy in my life!"

They clung together frantically, he patting her shoulder, her cheek againsthis own, murmuring broken, soothing little phrases. The time and the placedid not exist for them. 

A scuffle outside, which they had only vaguely sensed, and which had not atall penetrated to their understandings, came to an end. Mrs. Sherwoodappeared in the doorway. Her dress was torn and dishevelled, a strand ofher smooth hair had fallen across her forehead, an angry red mark showed onone cheek. But she was in high spirits. Her customary quiet poise had givenplace to a vibrant, birdlike, vital, quivering eagerness. To the two in thecentre of the room, still clasped in each other's arms, came the samethought: that never, in spite of her ruffled plumes, in spite of the cheekalready beginning to swell, had this extraordinary woman looked sobeautiful! Then Keith realized that she was panting heavily, and wasclinging to the doorway. He sprang to her assistance. 

"What is it? Where is Krafft?" he asked. 

She laughed a little, and permitted him to help her to an armchair intowhich she sank. She waved aside Keith's attempts to find a whole glass inthe wreckage of the table. 

"I'm all right, " she said, "and isn't this a nice little party?"

"What has happened? Where is Krafft?" repeated Keith. 

"I sent him to the stable for help. There didn't seem to be anybody aboutthe place. "

"But what happened to you? Did that brute Sansome--"

"Sansome? was that Sansome? the one who came through the window?" Shedabbed at her cheek. "You might wet me a handkerchief or a towel orsomething, " she suggested. "No, he didn't stop!" she laughed again. "Areyou all right?" she asked anxiously of Nan. 

"Yes. But tell us--"

"Well, children, I was waiting on the veranda, obeying orders like a goodgirl, when, in the dim light I saw a man mount a stool and look into theroom. He was very much interested. I crept up quite close to him withouthis knowing it. I heard him mutter to himself something about a 'weak kneedfool. ' Then he drew a revolver. He looked quite determined and heroic"--shegiggled reminiscently--"so I kicked the stool out from under him! Aboutthat time there was a most terrific crash, and somebody came out throughthe window. "

"But your cheek, your hair--"

"I tried to hold him, but he was too strong for me. He hit me in the face, wrenched himself free, and ran. That was all; except that he dropped thepistol, and I'm going to keep it as a trophy. "

Keith was looking at her, deep in thought. 

"I don't understand, " he said slowly. "Who could it have been?"

Mrs. Sherwood shook her head. 

"Somebody about to shoot a pistol; that's all I know. I couldn't see hisface. "

"Whoever it was, you saved one or both of us, " said Keith, "there's nodoubt in my mind of that. Let's see the pistol. "

It proved to be one of the smaller Colt's models, about 31 calibre, cap andball, silver plated, with polished rosewood handles, and heavily engravedwith scrollwork. Turning it over, Keith finally discovered on the bottom ofthe butt frame two letters scratched rudely, apparently with the point of aknife. He took it closer to the light. 

"I have it, " said he. "Here are the letters C. M. "

"Charles Morrell!" cried both women in a breath. 

At this moment appeared Krafft, somewhat out of wind, followed by the surlyand reluctant proprietor from whom the place took its name. Jake had beenliberally paid to keep himself and his staff out of the way. Now findingthat he was not wanted, he promptly disappeared. 

"Let's get to the bottom of this thing, " said Keith decisively. "If thoseare really meant for Morrell's initials, what was he doing here?"

"Mrs. Morrell came out with me, " put in Nan. 

"Jake told me there was to be a supper party later, " said Krafft. 

"It's clear enough, " contributed Mrs. Sherwood. "The whole thing is a plotto murder or do worse. I've been through '50 and '51, and I know. "

"I can't believe yet that Sansome--" said Keith doubtfully. 

"Oh, Sansome is merely a tool, I don't doubt, " replied Mrs. Sherwood. 

"I can find out to-morrow from Mex Ryan who sent the note, " said Krafft. 

"Let's get out of this horrible place!" cried Nan with a convulsive shiver. 

Again they had great difficulty in finding any one to get their rigs, butfinally repeated calls brought the hostler and Jake himself. The lattermade some growl about payment for the entertainment, but at this Keithturned on him with such concentrated fury that he muttered something andslouched away. It was agreed that Krafft should conduct Mrs. Sherwood. Theyclambered into the two buggies and drove away. 

LXXVII

The horse plodded slowly down the gravelled drive of the road house andturned into the main highway. It was very dark on earth, and very bright inthe heavens. The afternoon fog had cleared away, dissipated in the warm airfrom the sand hills, for the day had been hot. Overhead flared thousands ofstars, throwing the world small. Nan, shivering in reaction, nestledagainst her husband. He drew her close. She rested her cheek against hisshoulder and sighed happily. Neither spoke. 

At first Keith's whole being was filled with rage. His mind whirled withplans for revenge. On the morrow he would hunt down Morrell and Sansome. Atthe thought of what he would do to them, his teeth clamped and his musclesstiffened. Then he became wholly preoccupied with Nan's narrow escape. Hisquick mind visualized a hundred possibilities--suppose he had gone onDurkee's expedition? Suppose Mex Ryan had not happened to remember hisname? Suppose Mrs. Sherwood and Krafft had not found him? Suppose they hadbeen an hour later? Suppose--He leaned over tenderly to draw the lap robecloser about her. She had stopped shivering and was nestling contentedlyagainst him. 

But gradually the storm in Keith's soul fell. The great and solemn nightstood over against his vision, and at last he could not but look. Thesplendour of the magnificent skies, the dreamy peace of the velvet-blackearth lying supine like a weary creature at rest--these two simpleinfinities of space and of promise took him to themselves. An eager gladchorus of frogs came from some invisible pool. The slithering sound of thesand dividing before the buggy wheels whispered. Every once in a while theplodding horse sighed deeply. 

With the warm cozy feel of the woman, his woman, in the hollow of his arm, his spirit stilled and uplifted by the simple yet august and eternal thingsbefore him, Keith fell into inchoate rumination. The fever of activity inthe city, the clash of men's interests, greeds, and passions, the tumultand striving, the sweat and dust of the arena fell to nothing about hisfeet. He cleared his vision of the small necessary unessentials, and staredforth wide-eyed at the big simplicities of life--truth as one sees it, loyalty to one's ideal, charity toward one's beaten enemy, a steadfastfront toward one's unbeaten enemy, scorn of pettiness, to be unafraid. Unless the struggle is for and by these things, it is useless, meaningless. And one's possessions--Keith's left arm tightened convulsively. He had comenear to losing the only possession worth while. At the pressure Nan stirredsleepily. 

"Are we there, dear?" she inquired, raising her head. 

Keith had reined in the horse, and was peering into the surroundingdarkness. He laughed. 

"No, we seem to be here, " he replied, "And I'm blest if I know where 'here'is! I've been day-dreaming!"

"I believe I've been asleep, " confessed Nan. 

They both stared about them, but could discern nothing familiar in the dimoutlines of the hills. Not a light flickered. 

"Perhaps if you'd give the horse his head, he'd take us home. I've heard, they would, " suggested Nan. 

"He's had his head completely for the last two hours. That theory isexploded. We must have turned wrong after leaving Jake's Place. "

"Well, we're on a road. It must go somewhere. "

Keith, with some difficulty, managed to awaken the horse. It sighed andresumed its plodding. 

"I'm afraid we're lost, " confessed Keith. 

"I don't much care, " confessed Nan. 

"He seems to be a perfectly safe horse, " said he. 

By way of answer to this she passed her arms gently about his neck and benthis lips to hers. The horse immediately stopped. 

"Seems a fairly intelligent brute, too, " observed Keith, after a fewmoments. 

"Did you ever see so many stars?" said she. 

The buggy moved slowly, on through the night. They did not talk. Explanations and narrative could wait until the morrow--a distant morrowonly dimly foreseen, across this vast ocean of night. All sense of tune ordirection left them; they were wandering irresponsibly, without thought ofwhy, as children wander and get lost. After a long time they saw a silvergleam far ahead and below them. 

"That must be the bay, " said Keith. "If we turn to the right we ought toget back to town. "

"I suppose so, " said Nan. 

A very long time later the horse stopped short with an air of finality, andrefused absolutely to proceed. Keith descended to see what was the matter. 

"The road seems to end here, " he told her. "There's a steep descent justahead. "

"What now?"

"Nothing, " he replied, climbing back into the buggy. 

The horse slumbered profoundly. They wrapped the lap robe aroundthemselves. For a tune they whispered little half-forgotten things to eachother. The pauses grew longer and longer. With an effort she roused herselfto press her lips again to his. They, too, slept. And as dawn slowlylighted the world, they must have presented a strange and bizarresilhouette atop the hill against the paling sky--the old sagging buggy, thehorse with head down and ears adroop, the lovers clasped in each other'sarms. 

Silently all about them the new day was preparing its great spectacle. Thestars were growing dim; the masses of eastern hills were becoming visible. A full rich life was swelling through the world, quietly, stealthily, asthough under cover of darkness multitudes were stealing to their posts. Shortly, when the signal was given, the curtain would roll up, the fanfareof trumpets would resound--A meadow lark chirped low out of the blackness. And another, boldly, with full throat, uttered its liquid, joyous song. This was apparently the signal. The east turned gray. Mt. Tamalpais caughtthe first ghostly light. And ecstatically the birds and the insects and theflying and crawling and creeping things awakened, and each in his own voiceand manner devoutly welcomed the brand-new day with its fresh, cleanchances of life and its forgetfulness of old, disagreeable things. Themeadow larks became hundreds, the song sparrows trilled, distant cockscrowed, and a dog barked exuberantly far away. 

Keith stirred and looked about him. Objects were already becoming dimlyvisible. Suddenly something attracted his attention. He held his headsideways, listening. Faintly down the little land breeze came the sound ofa bell. It was the Vigilante tocsin. Nan sat up, blinking and putting herhair back from her eyes. She laughed a little happily. 

"Why, it's the dawn!" she cried, "We've been out all night!"

"The dawn, " repeated Keith, his arm about her, but his ear attuned to thebeat of the distant bell. "The gray dawn of better things. "

LXXVIII

As the Keiths, on the way, drove across what is now Harbour View, theystopped to watch a bark standing out through the Golden Gate before thegentle morning land breeze. She made a pretty sight, for the new-risen sunwhitened her sails. Aboard her was the arch-plotter, Morrell. Had theyknown of that fact, it is to be doubted whether they would have felt anygreat disappointment over his escape, or any deep animosity at all. Theoutcome of his efforts had been clarifying. The bark was bound for theSandwich Islands. Morrell's dispositions for flight at a moment's noticehad been made long since; in fact, since the first days of Vigilanteactivity. He lingered in the islands for some years, at first cutting quitea dash; then, as his money dwindled and his schemes failed, he degeneratedslowly. His latter end was probably as a small copra trader in the SouthSeas; but that is unknown. Mrs. Morrell--if indeed she was the man's legalwife at all--thus frankly abandoned, put a bold front on the whole matter. She returned to her house. As the Keiths in no manner molested her, shetook heart. With no resources other than heavily mortgaged real property, she found herself forced to do something for a living. In the course ofevents we see Mrs. Morrell keeping a flashy boarding-house, hangingprecariously on the outer fringe of the lax society of the times, frownedupon by the respectable, but more or less sought by the fast men and younggirls only too numerous among the idle of that day. 

Ben Sansome went south. For twenty years he lived in Los Angeles, where hecut a figure, but from which he always cast longing eyes back upon SanFrancisco. He had a furtive lookout for arrivals from the north. One day, however, he came face to face with Keith. As the latter did not annihilatehim on the spot, Sansome plucked up courage. He returned to San Francisco, There in time he attained a position dear to his heart; he became an "oldbeau, " frequenting the teas and balls, appraising the débutantes, givinghis opinion on vintage wines, leading a comfortable, idle, selfish, useless, graceful life. His only discomfort was his occasional encounterswith the Keiths. Mrs. Keith never distinguished him from thin air unlessothers were present. Keith had always in his eye a gleam of contempt which, perhaps, Sansome acknowledged, was natural; but it was a contempt with adash of amusement in it, and that galled. Still--Ben was satisfied. Hegained the distinction of having discovered the epicurean value of sand-dabs. 

The Sherwoods founded the family of that name. 

Terry, arrested for the stabbing of Hopkins, was at first very humble, promising to resign his Supreme Court Judgeship. As time went on he becamearrogant. The Committee of Vigilance was rather at a loss. If Hopkins died, they could do no less than hang Terry: and they realized fully that inexecuting a Justice of the Supreme Court they were entering deep waters. Tothe relief of everybody Hopkins fully recovered. After being held closelyin custody, Terry was finally released, with a resolution that he bedeclared unfit for office. Once free, however, he revised his intention ofresigning. His subsequent career proved as lawless and undisciplined as itsearlier promise. Finally he was killed while in the act of attempting toassassinate Justice Stephen Field, an old, weak, helpless, and unarmed man. If Terry holds any significance in history, it is that of being thestrongest factor in the complete wrecking of the Law and Order party!

For with the capture of the arsenals, and all their arms, open oppositionto the Committee of Vigilance came to an end. The Executive Committeecontinued its work. Numberless malefactors and suspects were banished; twomore men, Hetherington and Brace, were solemnly hanged. On the 8th. OfAugust the cells were practically empty. It was determined to disband onthe 21st. 

That ceremony was signalized by a parade on the 18th. Four regiments ofinfantry, two squadrons of cavalry, a battalion of riflemen, a battalion ofpistol men, and a battalion of police were in line. The entire city turnedout to cheer. 

As for the effects of this movement, the reader must be referred to thehistorians. It is sufficient to say that for years San Francisco enjoyed amodel government and almost complete immunity from crime. 

One evening about twilight two men stood in the gathering shadows of thePlaza. They were old friends, but had in times of stress stood on oppositesides. The elder man shook his head skeptically. 

"That is all very well, " said he, "but where are your Vigilantes now?"

The other raised his hand toward the great bell of the Monumentalsilhouetted against the afterglow in the sky. 

"Toll that bell, sir, and you will see!" replied Coleman solemnly.