"Draw and defend yourself," he said loudly. He shut his eyes and a
little puff of smoke seemed to spring from the end of his fingers,
followed ... by a sharp report.

In front of the building on a high platform, two men stood.... A
half-suppressed roar went up from the throng.

Terry, who had taken careful aim, now fired. Broderick staggered,
recovered himself. Slowly he sank to one knee.

The concourse broke into applause. Then it was hysteria, pandemonium.
Fifty thousand knew their city was safe for Anti-Slavery.

Half a thousand jobless workers, armed and reckless, marched toward the
docks. They bore torches.... "A hell-bent crew," said Ellis.

"My boy ... you're wasting your time as a reporter. Listen," he laid a
hand upon Francisco's knee. "I've a job for you.... The new Mayor will
need a secretary".

"Perhaps I shall find me a man--big, strong, impressive--with a mind
easily led.... Then I shall train him to be a leader.... I shall furnish
the brain".

"I am going South," Francisco told his son. "I cannot bear this".

All at once he stepped forward.... Tears were streaming down his face.
Then the judge's question, clearly heard, "What is your plea?" "Guilty!"
Ruef returned.