er--call it, say, the Evening
Bulletin."

Nesbitt's eyes glowed. "By the Lord Harry! it's an inspiration, King,"
he said and beckoned to a waiter to refill their glasses. "I know enough
about our State and city politics to make a lot of well-known citizens
hunt cover--"

Sinton smiled at the journalist's ardor. "D'ye mean it, James?" he
asked. "Every word," replied the banker. "But I can't help much
financially," he added. "My creditors got everything."

"You mean the King's treasury is empty," said Sinton, laughing at his
pun. "Well, well, we might make it go, boys. I'm not a millionaire, but
never mind. How much would it take?"

Nesbitt answered with swift eagerness. "I know a print shop we can buy
for a song; it's on Merchant street near Montgomery. Small but
comfortable, and just the thing. $500 down would start us."

Sinton pulled at his chin a moment. "Go ahead then," he urged. "I'll
loan you the money."

King's hand shot out to grasp the auctioneer's. "There ought to be
10,000 decent citizens in San Francisco who'll give us their support.
Let's go and see the owner of that print-shop now."

* * * * *

On the afternoon of October 5th, 1885, a tiny four-page paper made its
first appearance on the streets of San Francisco.

The first page, with its queer jumble of news and advertisements, had a
novel and attractive appearance quite apart from the usual standards of
typographical make-up. People laughed at King's naive editorial apology
for entering an overcrowded and none-too-prosperous field; they nodded
approvingly over his promise to tell the truth with fearless
impartiality.

William Coleman was among the first day's visitors.

"Good luck to you, James King of William," he held forth a friendly
hand. The editor, turning, rose and grasped it with sincere cordiality.
They stood regarding each other silently. It seemed almost as though a
prescience of what was to come lay in that curious communion of
heart and mind.

"Going after the crooks, I understand," said Coleman finally.

"Big and little," King retorted. "That's all the paper's for. I don't
expect to make money."

"How about the Southerners, the Chivalry party? They'll challenge you to
duels daily."

"Damn the 'Chivs'." King answered. "I shall ignore their challenges.
This duelling habit is absurd. It's grandstand politics; opera bouffe.
They even advertise their meetings and the boatmen run excursions to
s