; he'll seize them on the bay."

"Then he'll commit an act of 'piracy'," Baker said, explosively.

Terry took his feet from the table, rose. "By God!" he exclaimed,
"there's an idea! Piracy! A capital offense!" He crammed his hands into
his pockets and strode heavily up and down.

"Coleman's not likely to hear of our sending these arms," said the
Governor.

Jones poured another drink and sipped it. "Isn't he, though?" He laughed
softly. "You fellows just leave that to me." He caught up his hat
and went out.

"A smart little man," remarked Howard Baker, complacently.

CHAPTER XLIX

TERRY STABS HOPKINS

The peace-makers took an early boat for San Francisco. They were
hopelessly alienated from the Law and Order Party. After some
deliberation they decided to call a mass meeting in front of the
Oriental Hotel. Thus they hoped to make the Vigilante sentiment
practically unanimous and request through popular acclaim, a withdrawal
of the Governor's proclamation.

Early on June 14, the day appointed, citizens began to gather at Bush
and Battery streets; by noon they blocked both thoroughfares and
overflowed into Market street. Each window, roof and balcony near by was
filled. Women in their summer finery lent gay splashes of color, waved
parasols or handkerchiefs excitedly at their acquaintances below.

Inez Windham called to David Broderick, who was passing, "There's room
for one more on our balcony. Come up." As he stood behind her in the
window, stooping a little, she looked eagerly into his careworn face.
"One might think it was a circus." He smiled.

"You remind me of champagne, you San Franciscans. The inherent quality
of you is sparkle.... Even if an earthquake came along and swallowed
you, I think you'd go down with that same light, laughing nonchalance."

Mrs. Stanley made a moue at him. "You find us--different from your
Eastern ladies, Mr. Broderick?" she asked expectantly.

He considered for a moment. "Sometimes I think it is the land more
than the women. They come from everywhere--with all their varied
prejudices, modes, conventions. But, after a time, they become
Californians--like you."

"That's what Benito says," returned his sister. "He's daft about San
Francisco. He calls it his Golden City. I think"--she leaned nearer,
"but you must not say I told you--I think he has written poetry
about it."

"Ah, yes," said Broderick, "he has that strain. And how is Alice?"

"Alice is well," he heard