ome point where two idiots shoot wildly at each other for some fancied
slight. No, Coleman, I'm not that particular kind of a fool."

"Well, you'd better carry a derringer," the other warned. "There are
Broderick's plug-uglies. They won't wait to send a challenge."

King gave him an odd look. "I have feeling that one cannot change his
destiny," he said. "If I am to be killed--then so be it ... Kismet, as
the Orientals say. But meanwhile I'll fight corruption. I'll call men by
name and shout their sins from the housetops. We'll wake up the town, or
my name isn't James King of William.... Won't we, James?" He clapped a
hand on Nesbitt's shoulder. The other turned half irritably. "What? Oh,
yes. To be sure," he answered and resumed his writing. Charles
Gerberding, who held the title of publisher in the new enterprise,
looked up from his ledger. "If this keeps up," he said, smiling and
rubbing his hands, "we can enlarge the paper in a month or so." He shut
the volume with a slam and lighted a cigar.

"Hello, Coleman, how are the Vigilants? I'm told you still preserve a
tacit organization."

"More of the spirit than substance," said Coleman smiling. "I hope we'll
not need to revive it."

"Not so sure," responded Gerberding. "This man here," the cigar was
waved in King's direction, "this editor of ours is going to set the
town afire."

Coleman did not answer. He went out ... wondering whether Isaac Bluxome
was in town. Bluxome had served as secretary for the Vigilance
Committee of '51.

CHAPTER XXXIX

RICHARDSON AND CORA

Business went on with at least a surface calm of new stability. Politics
brought forth occasional eruptions, mostly twixt the Abolitionists and
Slavery parties. Each claimed California. Broderick more than ever held
the reins of state and city government. But the latter proved a
fractious steed. For all his dauntless vigor and political astuteness,
Destiny as yet withheld from Broderick the coveted United States
senatorship. At best he had achieved an impasse, a dog-in-the-manger
victory. By preventing the election of a rival he had gained little and
incurred much censure for depriving the State of national
representation. Benito and Alice tried to rouse him from a fit of
moodiness as he dined with them one evening in November. Lately he had
made a frequent, always-welcome third at their evening meal.

"Cheer up, Dave," Benito rallied, as he raised a glass of wine. "We'll
be reading your spe