t our money if
it's safe."

CHAPTER XXXVIII

KING STARTS THE BULLETIN

After several months of business convalescence, San Francisco found
itself recovered from the financial chaos of February. Many well-known
men and institutions had not stood the ordeal; some went down the
pathway of dishonor to an irretrievable inconsequence and destitution;
others profited by their misfortunes and still others, with the
dauntless spirit of the time, turned halted energies or aspirations to
fresh account. Among them was James King of William.

The name of his father, William King, was, by an odd necessity,
perpetuated with his own. There were many James Kings and to avert
confusion of identities the paternal cognomen was added.

In the Bank Exchange saloon, where the city's powers in commerce,
journalism and finance were wont to congregate, King met, on a rainy
autumn afternoon, R.D. Sinton and Jim Nesbitt. They hailed him jovially.
Seated in the corner of an anteroom they drank to one another's health
and listened to the raindrops pattering against a window.

"Well, how is the auction business, Bob?" asked King.

"Not so bad," the junior partner of Selover and Sinton answered. "Better
probably than the newspaper or banking line.... Here's poor Jim, the
keenest paragrapher in San Francisco, out of work since the
_Chronicle's_ gone to the wall. And here you are, cleaned out by Adams &
Company's careless or dishonest work--I don't know which."

"Let's not discuss it," King said broodingly. "You know they wouldn't
let me supervise the distribution of the money. And you know what my
demand for an accounting brought ..."

"Abuse and slander from that boughten sheet, the Alta--yes," retorted
Sinton. "Well, you have the consolation of knowing that no honest man
believes it."

King was silent for a moment. Then his clenched hand fell upon the
table. "By the Eternal!" he exclaimed, with a sudden upthrust of the
chin. "This town must have a decent paper. Do you know that there are
seven murderers in our jail? No one will convict them and no editor has
the courage to expose our rotten politics." He glanced quickly from one
to the other. "Are you with me, boys? Will you help me to start a
journal that will run our crooked officials and their hired plug-uglies
out of town?... Sinton, last week you asked my advice about a good
investment ... Nesbitt, you're looking for a berth. Well, here's an
answer to you both. Let's start a pap