need to
work.... Talk to him, Benito. Make him listen to sense."

"I don't wish to go East, Uncle Ben," said Francisco. "What good will
it do me to learn Latin and Greek.... Higher mathematics and social
snobbery? I want to get to work. Calvin McDonald's offered me a job on
The American Flag."

"What will you do? Write editorials or poetry?" his father asked.

Francisco flushed. "I'll be a copy boy to start with.... And there's no
harm in writing poetry. Uncle Ben does it himself."

It was Benito's turn to redden. "Better let the boy have his way," he
said hastily. "Journalism's quite an education in itself."

"So, you're against me, too! Well, well. I'll see about it."

They shook hands good-humoredly, the boy beaming. Afterward news reached
Benito that young Stanley was a member of McDonald's staff.

* * * * *

In 1865 there came the joyous news of victory and peace. The Democratic
Press accepted Lee's surrender sullenly, printing now and then a covert
sneer at Grant or Lincoln. Enmity died hard in Southern breasts.

One morning as he came to town Benito saw a crowd of angry and excited
men running down Montgomery street. Some of them brandished canes. "Down
with Copperheads," they were shouting. Presently he heard a crash of
glass, a cry of protest. Then a door gave with a splintering sound. The
crowd rushed through, into the offices and print rooms of the
Democratic Press.

There was more noise of wreckage and destruction. Broken chairs, tables,
typecases, bits of machinery hurtled into the street. Benito grasped the
arm of a man who was hurrying by. "What's wrong?" he asked.

The other turned a flushed and angry mien toward him. "God Almighty!
Haven't you heard? President Lincoln was shot last night ... by a
brother of Ed Booth, the actor.... They say he's dying." He picked up a
stone and hurled it at an upper window of the Press.

"We'll show these traitor-dogs a thing or two," he called. "Come on,
boys, let's wreck the place!"

CHAPTER LXI

DESPERATE FINANCE

The publishers of the Democratic Press had their lesson. In a city
draped with black for a beloved President, they swept up the glass of
their shattered windows, picked up what remained of scattered type,
reassembled machinery and furniture--and experienced a change of heart.
Presently The Examiner burgeoned from that stricken journalistic root.

Francisco was now a member of the Alta staff, the aggressi