firm--a new fire in their eyes. The bravos of slavery meet fearless
adversaries. In the cities, the wave of political bitterness
drowns all friendly impulses. Every public man takes his life in
his hand. The wars of Broderick and Gwin, Field and Terry, convulse
the State. Lashed into imprudence by each other's attacks, David
C. Broderick and David S. Terry look into each other's pistols.
They stand face to face in the little valley by Merced Lake.
Sturdy Colton, and warm-hearted Joe McKibbin, second the fearless
Broderick. Hayes and the chivalric Calhoun Benham are the aids
of the lion-hearted Terry. It is a meeting of giants. Resolution
against deadly nerve. Brave even to rashness, both of them know
it is the first blood of the fight between South and North. Benham
does well as, with theatrical flourish, he casts Terry's money on
the sod. The grass is soon to be stained with the blood of a leader.
This is no mere money quarrel. It is a duel to the death; a calm
assertion of the fact that neither in fray, in the forum, nor on
the battle-field, will the North go back one inch. It is high time.

Broderick, the peer of his superb antagonist, knows that the
pretext of Terry's challenge is a mere excuse. It is first blood in
the inevitable struggle for the western coast. With no delay, the
stout-hearted champions, friends once, stand as foes in conflict.
David Terry's ball cuts the heart-strings of a man who had been his
loving political brother. His personal friend once and a gallant
comrade. Broderick's blood marks the fatal turning-off of the
Northern Democrats from their Southern brothers. As Terry lowers
his pistol, looking unpityingly at the fallen giant, he does not
realize he has cut the cords tying the West to the South. It was
a fatal deed, this brother's murder. It was the mistake of a life,
hitherto high in purpose. The implacable Terry would have shuddered