d out his hand.

"Well, well, Sherman," he greeted, "glad to see you." Then his brow knit
in a kind of puzzled provocation. "What's that Vigilante Committee doing
here with you?"

Terry grunted and spat. Sherman looked them over with a repulsion he
could not completely conceal. They were men of violent prejudices. It
was bad to see the Governor so completely in their grasp.

"They are not Vigilantes, your Excellency," he began with punctilious
hauteur.

"The hell they're not!" said Terry.

Sherman ignored him completely. "My meeting with them was purely
casual," he resumed. "They are prominent, impartial citizens of San
Francisco, seeking to make peace. They have, I understand, seen Coleman;
are prepared to offer certain compromises."

"Aha!" cried Howard, "the rabble is caving in. They're ready to quit."

Johnson looked at Sherman as if for confirmation. He shook his head.
"Far from it."

"Cannot they state their business in writing?" asked Johnson.

"Send them packing, the damned pork merchants!" Terry said, as if
issuing a command.

Again the Governor seemed to hesitate. Again his glance sought
Sherman's. "That would be unwise," returned the soldier.

The Governor summoned a clerk. "Ask the committee to put their business
in writing!" he ordered. When the man had gone he once more addressed
Sherman: "Wool absolutely refuses to provide the militia with arms."

Terry's fist smote the table with a crash. A stream of vituperation
issued from his lips. General Wool, the Vigilance Committee and Admiral
Farragut were vilified in terms so crude that even the other men
surveyed the Chief Justice with distaste.

Sherman turned to the door. "Governor, I've had enough of this," he
spoke sharply. "I shall send you my resignation tonight." He went out,
leaving Johnson to mutter distressedly. "Never mind," said Terry, "give
his job to Volney. He'll drive the damned pork merchants into the sea."

"What about rifles and ammunition?" asked Howard with sudden
practicality.

They looked at each other blankly. Then the wily Jones came forward with
a shrewd suggestion. "Wool can't refuse you the regular quota of arms
for annual replenishment," he said. "Get those by requisition. Ship them
down to San Francisco. Reub Maloney is here. He'll carry them down in
a sloop."

"But they're only a few hundred guns," said the Governor.

"They'll help," contended Jones. "They'll make a showing."

"Suppose Coleman hears about it