the Pacific. The American fleets, though poor and scattered, are
skilfully handled. Consuls and diplomats everywhere aid in detecting
the weakly laid plans of the would-be pirates.

Still Valois fumes, sword in hand, at the pusillanimity of the
Western sympathizers. They are rich and should be arming. Why do
they not strike one effective blow for the cause? One gun would sink
a lightly built Pacific liner, or bring its flag down. Millions
of gold are being exported to the East from the treasure fields
of the West. Though proud of the dauntless, ragged gray ranks he
loves, Valois feels that the West should organize a serious attack
on some unprotected Federal interest, to save the issue. But the
miserable failure of Sibley has discouraged Confederate Western
effort. The Confederate Californian grinds his teeth to think that
one resolute dash of the scattered tens of thousands lying in camp,
uselessly, in Arkansas and Texas, would even now secure California.
Even now, as the Confederate line of battle wastes away, desperate
Southern men dream of throwing themselves into Mexico as an
unwelcome, armed immigration. This blood is precious at home.

Stung by the taunts of Eastern friends, at last Philip Hardin and
his co-workers stir to some show of action.

Peacefully loading in San Francisco harbor for Mexico, a heavy schooner
is filled with the best attainable fittings for a piratical cruise.

The J.W. Chapman rises and falls at the wharves at half gun-shot from
the old U.S. frigate CYANE. Her battery could blow the schooner
into splinters, with one broadside. Tackle and gear load the
peaceful-looking cases of "alleged" heavy merchandise. Ammunition