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 aggressive but
short-lived American Flag, having ceased publication several years after
the war. Adrian admitted to Benito that the boy had justified his bent
for journalistic work.
"The young rascal's articles are attracting attention. He even signs
some of them; now and then they print one of his verses--generally a
satire on local events. And he gets passes to all of the theaters. Inez
and I are going to 'Camille' tonight."
"So are Alice and myself, by a coincidence." Benito lighted a cigar and
puffed a moment; then he added, "Do you know what that boy of mine
proposes to do?"
"No," said Adrian. "Become an actor--or a politician?"
"Well, it's almost as bad.... He wants to be a letter carrier.... The
new free delivery routes will be established soon, you know."
"Yes, the town's growing," commented Stanley. "Well, you'd better let
young Robert have his way. He's almost as big as you.... How is
'Montgomery Straight' progressing?"
"Fairly well," returned Benito. "Latham and Parrott are fighting us as
we expected. But Harpending's acquired Selim Woodworth's lot on Market
street, just where Montgomery will cut through." He laughed. "Selim
wanted half a million for it.... He'd have got it in a day or two
because we had to have the property. But along comes an earthquake and
literally shakes $350,000 out of Woodworth's pockets. Frightened him so
badly that he sold for $150,000 and was glad to get it."
"Well, even earthquakes have their uses," Adrian smiled. "Here comes
Francisco. I'll have him see Maguire and arrange it so that we can sit
together at the show."
"Who is the lanky fellow with him?" asked Benito. "Looks as if he would
appreciate a joke."
"Oh, that's his friend, Sam Clemens," Adrian answered. "An improvident
cuss but good company. He writes for the Carson Appeal under the name of
Mark Twain."
* * * * *
Benito, that afternoon, was closeted with Harpending and Ralston in the
Bank of California. The financier, who was backing the Montgomery street
venture, regarded Harpending a trifle quizzically. "Once," he said, "you
tried to be a pirate, Asbury.... Oh, no offense," he laid a soothing
hand upon the other's knee. "But tonight I need a desperate man such as
you. Another like Benito. We're going to raid the Mint."
"What?" cried Windham, startled.
"You'll need steadier nerves than that for our enterprise." Ralston
passed his cigar case to the two men, saw them puffing equably ere he
continued. "You know how tight the money situation has become because
President Grant declines to let us exchange our gold bars for coin. With
eight tons of gold in our vault we almost had a run this afternoon....
Now, that's ridiculous." His fist smote the table. "Grant doesn't know
the ropes.... But that's no reason why Hell should break loose
tomorrow morning."
"What are you going to do?" Benito asked.
"Use my common sense--and save the banks," said Ralston shortly. "You
two must meet me here this evening. Soon as it's dark. You'll have a
hard night's work. My friend Dore will be there also. Can you suggest
anyone else--absolutely to be trusted, who will ask no questions?"
"My son," Benito answered; "Robert likes work. He wants to be a
postal-carrier."
"Bring him by all means," said Ralston. "If he helps us out tonight,
I'll see that he gets anything he wants in San Francisco."
He was boyishly eager; full of excited plans for his daring scheme. The
two men left him chuckling as he bit the end off a fresh cigar.
* * * * *
It was nearly nine o'clock when they left the Bank of California.
Theater-going crowds were housed at the play; the streets were
extraordinarily silent as the quintet made their way toward the Mint.
Robert was breathing hard. The dark streets, the mysterious Empire
ahead, the hint of danger and a mighty stake distilled a toxic and
exhilarating fever in his blood. As the pillared front of the federal
treasure house loomed up before them, Ralston made a sign for them to
halt, advancing cautiously. With astonishment they saw him pass through
the usually guarded door and disappear. Presently he emerged with
two sacks.
"Robert and Benito, take these to the bank," he whispered. "The watchmen
there will give you the equivalent in gold bars to bring back." He
turned to Harpending and Dore. "I'll have yours ready in a minute." Once
more he vanished within.
Robert picked up the bag allotted to him. It was very heavy. As he
lifted it to his shoulder, the contents clinked.
"Gold coin," said his father, significantly.
"What if we're caught?" asked the boy, half fearfully. Ralston,
reappearing, heard the question.
"You won't be," he said. "I've attended to that."
His assurance proved correct. All night the four men toiled between the
Mint and the Bank of California sweating, puffing, fatigued to the brink
of exhaustion. With the first streak of dawn, Ralston dismissed them.
"You've brought five ton of gold coin to the vault," he said, his eyes
agleam. "You've saved San Francisco the worst financial panic that ever
a short-sighted federal government unwittingly precipitated." Suddenly
he laughed and threw his arms wide. "At ten o'clock the frightened sheep
will come running for their deposits.... Well, let 'em come."
"And now you boys go home and get some sleep. By the Eternal, you
deserve it!"