m. Like a frightened
rabbit he dived through the hatchway, yelling at the top of his lungs.

"The police! The police!"

Harpending was up first. Pell mell, Rubery and Greathouse followed. A
couple of hundred yards away they looked into the trained guns of the
Federal warship Cyane. Several boatloads of officers and marines were
leaving her side. From the San Francisco waterfront a police tug bore
down on the Chapman.

Greathouse stumbled back into the cabin. "Quick, destroy the evidence,"
he shouted.

CHAPTER LIX

THE COMSTOCK FURORE

Press reports gave full and wide sensation to the capture of the
"Chapman." Chief Lees took every credit for the thwarting of a "Plot of
Southern Pirates" who "Conspired to Prey Upon the Golden Galleons From
California." Thus the headlines put it. And Benito was relieved to find
no mention of himself. Harpending he knew and liked, despite his
Southern sympathies; Rubery he had met; an English lad, high-spirited
and well connected. In fact, John Bright soon had his errant nephew out
of jail. And when, a few months later, Harpending and Greathouse were
released, Benito deemed the story happily ended. He heard nothing from
McTurpin. No doubt the fellow was dead.

That troublesome proclivity of wooing chance was uppermost again in
Windham's mind. It was only natural perhaps, for all of San Francisco
gambled now in mining stocks. The brokers swarmed like bees along
Montgomery street; every window had its shelf of quartz and nuggets
interspersed with pictures of the "workings" at Virginia City. It was
Nevada now that held the treasure-seeker's eye.

Within a year it had produced six millions. Scores of miners staked
their claims upon or near the Comstock lode and most of them sought
capital in San Francisco. Washerwomen, bankers, teamsters--every class
was bitten by the microbe of hysterical investment. Some had made great
fortunes; none apparently thus far had lost.

In front of Flood and O'Brien's saloon a hand fell heartily upon
Benito's shoulder. "Come in and have a drink," James Lick invited.

Lick had "made a pile" of late. He was building a big hotel on
Montgomery street; was recognized as one of San Francisco's financiers.
He took Benito by the arm. "We've got to celebrate. I've made ten
thousand on my Ophir shares. Carrying any mining stock, Benito?"

"No," retorted Windham. He suffered Lick to lead him to the bar. Will
O'Brien, a shrewd-faced merry Irishman, took thei