CHAPTER XLII

THE COMMITTEE ORGANIZES

When Benito rode up Montgomery street next morning he saw a litter being carried out of the Pacific Express Office. Beside it, were Mrs. King, Dr. Hammond and John Sime. They walked very slowly and the crowd fell back on either side as the litter-bearers progressed.

Benito's heart stood still a moment. "Is he--?" the question formed reluctantly upon his lips. But David Broderick, standing by, reassured him.

"No, not dead. Thank Heaven! They're taking him to more comfortable quarters. A room in the Montgomery Block. They've postponed the operation on the artery; as a last resort."

"Dave," said Windham, seriously, "do you suppose you'll be blamed for this?"

"Good God, man! No," returned the other. "Not even Gwin would dare to lay this at my door. There's no politics in it. At least none of mine."

"Yet Casey was one of your men. They'll say that."

"Let them," answered Broderick angrily. "I've no more to do with it than you--nor Coleman, who, they tell me, is forming another Vigilance Committee."

"Yes," said Windham. "They're to meet at the old Know Nothing Hall on Sacramento street. I'm going there now."

"Well I'm bound for a talk with Will Sherman; he's been appointed head of the militia. Just in time I should say. He'll be needed before order is restored."

They shook hands. Benito looked after his friend uneasily. Broderick was on the wrong side, the young man thought; was taking an unwise tack. But no one could argue with Broderick ... unless it were Alice. They must have Dave to dinner again.

* * * * *

The street in front of Know Nothing Hall, a long two-story brick building was already crowded. One by one men were admitted--or rejected. Now and then a man would fall out of the line muttering wrathfully.

"They're taking mighty good care not to let any of Scannell's friends get in," a man behind Benito confided. "The Sheriff's sent a dozen 'plants' this morning but Bluxome weeds them out unfailingly."

After a time Benito found himself at the wicket, gazing into Isaac Bluxome's shrewd eyes. He was passed immediately with a smile of welcome and found himself in a large room of the "lodge" variety. There was a desk behind which sat William Coleman and Charles Doane.

About one hundred men moved about talking animatedly in groups and among these Benito noted many of his fellows of the '51 committee.

Presently Coleman spoke.

"Gentlemen, it has been decided to reorganize the Vigilance Committee. Mr. Bluxome and I have assumed the initiative, without any idea of placing ourselves at the head of the organization. Neither of us desire more than a chance to serve--in whatever capacity you may determine. We have prepared a form of oath, which I suggest shall be signed by each of us with his name and the number of his enrollment. Afterward he shall be known by that number only."

He read the oath: "I do solemnly swear to act with the Vigilance Committee and second and sustain in full all their actions as expressed through the executive committee."

"That's good!" "That's the ticket!" affirmed a score of voices. Coleman held up a quill pen invitingly, "Who'll be first to sign?"

"You, Mr. Coleman," said Benito firmly, "you must be our chief."

A cheer followed. Coleman demurred but in vain. They would have no one else. So, at last he put his name upon the paper, adding after it "No. 1."

Others came up and affixed their signatures: C.J. Dempster, the Post brothers, Alfred Rix, P.G. Childs and so on. Bluxome, relieved from his post, was No. 33. It proved in after days a potent numeral for it represented the secretarial seal on documents which spelled doom to evildoers; hope, law and order to an outraged populace.

* * * * *

Meanwhile, McGowan, Scannell and his clan had not been idle. On the night of the shooting one hundred men proceeded to the Pacific street wharf where the Coliah and Seabird were anchored. From each of these, by force of arms, but with a promise of return, they took a ship's cannon which they dragged by means of two long ropes, uphill to the county stronghold.

* * * * *

On Thursday morning Mayor Van Ness stalked into Turner, Lucas & Company's bank and button-holed the manager. This was William T. Sherman, late of the United States army.

"Sherman," said Van Ness excitedly, "is it true that you've been appointed major-general in charge of the second division of the California Militia?"

"It is," retorted Sherman. His calm demeanor as he answered, without even looking up from the stock sheets which engrossed him, contrasted sharply with the fuming unrest of Van Ness. The latter now seized Sherman's sleeve.

"Lay those down and come with me," he urged. "We need you instantly. Armed mobs are organizing to destroy the jail and seize the city government. It's your duty, sir, your manifest duty--"

"All right, mayor," Sherman said, "I'll go along." He called a clerk and gave some orders. Then he slipped the stock sheets into a drawer and took his hat from a peg.

They strode along together, Van Ness gesturing and talking; Sherman's head slightly bent as if in thought. Now and then he asked a curt question.

The crowd about the jail had dwindled to a few curiosity seekers. The center of public interest had shifted to Know Nothing Hall where Vigilantes were still enrolling.

Sherman and Van Ness found Sheriff Scannell, Ned McGowan, Billy Mulligan and the prisoner Casey in vehement consultation. They welcomed the soldier and mayor with manifest relief.

"I'm glad you came," said Mulligan, "things look bad. There'll be Hell poppin'--if that d---- fool dies."

"If you are referring to Mr. King, speak of him with respect." Sherman's tone was like a whiplash. The soldier turned to Scannell. "How many men have you? Men on whom you can depend in a crisis?"

Scannell hesitated. "A hundred maybe ... but," he looked at Sherman hopefully, "there's your militia. Some of them served last night."

"They've refused further service," said Van Ness. "I'm told that most of them have gone over to the Vigilantes ... and taken their arms along."

Sherman stroked his chin. "This place is not impregnable by any means," he remarked. "The first thing we must do is to secure the buildings on each side."

"Too late," groaned Scannell. "I tried to find lodgings for some of my guards at Mrs. Hutchinson's boarding house. She slammed the door in my face. I tried the other side and found that Coleman and Bluxome had an option on it. They've already sent men to guard both places."

"Then," Sherman told them, "you cannot defend this jail against a well planned attack. Perhaps they'll not resort to force," he added hopefully. "The Governor's coming down to talk with Coleman."

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