Part 36 (1/2)
A number waited on King. Keith was among them. They found his office in a small ramshackle frame building, situated in the middle instead of alongside one of the back streets. It had probably been one of the early small dwelling-houses, marooned by a resurvey of the streets, and never since moved. King sat in his s.h.i.+rtsleeves before a small flat table. He looked up at them uncompromisingly from his wide-apart steady eyes.
”Gentlemen,” he greeted them tentatively.
Judge Girvin seated himself impressively, his fat legs well apart, his beaver hat and cane poised in his left hand; the others, grouped themselves back of him. The judge stated the moderate case well. ”We do not deny any man the right to his opinion,” he concluded, ”but have you reflected on the effect such an expression often has on the minds of those not trained to control?”
King listened to him in silence.
”It seems to me, sir,” he answered, when Judge Girvin had quite finished, ”that if abuses exist they should be exposed until they are remedied; and that the remedy should come from the law.”
”What is your impelling motive?” asked the judge. ”Why have you so suddenly taken up this form of activity? Do you feel aggrieved in any way--personally?”
”My motive in starting a newspaper, if that is what you mean, is the plain one of making an honest if modest living. And, incidentally, while doing so, I have some small idea of being of public use. I have no personal grievance; but I am aggrieved, as every decent man must be, at the way the lawyers, the big financial operators, and the other blackguards have robbed the city,” stated King plainly.
Judge Girvin, flus.h.i.+ng, arose with dignity,
”I wish you good-day, sir,” he said coldly, and at once withdrew.
Keith had been watching King with the keenly critical, detached, a.n.a.lytical speculation of the lawyer. He carried away with him the impression of a man inspired.
At the engine house, to which the discomfited delegation withdrew, there was more discussion.
”The man is within his legal rights so far,” stated Judge Girvin. ”If any of his statements are libellous, it is the duty of the man so libelled to inst.i.tute action in the courts.”
”He's too smooth for that,” growled Jones.
”He'll bite off more than he can chew, if he keeps on,” said d.i.c.k Blatchford comfortably. ”He's stirring up hornets' nests when he monkeys with men like Yankee Sullivan. He's about due for an awful scare, one of these days, and then he'll be good.”
”Do you know, I don't believe he'll scare,” said Keith suddenly, with conviction.
x.x.xVIII
As Keith surmised, intimidation had no effect. In such a city of fire-eaters it was promptly tried. A dozen publically announced that they thirsted for his blood, and intended to have it; and the records of the dozen were of determination and courage in such matters. In the gambling resorts and on the streets bets were made and pools formed on the probable duration of King's life. He took prompt notice of this fact. Said the _Bulletin's_ editorial column:
Bets are now being offered, we are told, that the editor of the _Bulletin_ will not be in existence twenty days longer, and the case of Doctor Hogan, of the Vicksburg paper, who was murdered by gamblers of that place, is cited as a warning. Pah! War, then, is the cry, is it? War between the prost.i.tutes and gamblers on one side, and the virtuous and respectable on the other! Be it so, then! Gamblers of San Francisco, you have made your election, and we are ready on our side for the issue!
Keith read this over John Sherwood's shoulder at the Monumental. The ex-gambler, his famous benign spectacles atop his nose, chuckled over it.
”He doesn't scare for a cent, does he?” was his comment. ”Strikes me I got out of the ranks of the unG.o.dly just in time. If I were still gambling, I believe I'd take some of those bets he speaks of. He won't last--in this town. But I like his pluck--kind of. Only he's d.a.m.n bad for business!”
Saying which, John Sherwood, late gambler but now sincerely believing himself a sound and conservative business man, pa.s.sed the sheet over to Keith.
From vague threats the situation developed rapidly to the definite and personal. One Selover sent a challenge to King, which was refused.
Selover then announced his intention of killing King on sight. The _Bulletin_ published this:
Mr. Selover, it is said, carries a knife. We carry a pistol. We hope neither will be required, but if this encounter cannot be avoided, why will Mr. Selover insist on imperilling the lives of others? We pa.s.s every afternoon, about half-past four to five o'clock, along Market Street from Fourth to Fifth streets. The road is wide, and not so much frequented as those streets farther in town. If we are to be shot or cut to pieces, for heaven's sake let it be done there. Others will not be injured, and in case we fall, our house is but a few hundred yards beyond, and the cemetery not much farther.