"Well, well, Sherman," he greeted, "glad to see you." Then his brow knit in a kind of puzzled provocation. "What's that Vigilante Committee doing here with you?" Terry grunted and spat. Sherman looked them over with a repulsion he could not completely conceal. They were men of violent prejudices. It was bad to see the Governor so completely in their grasp. "They are not Vigilantes, your Excellency," he began with punctilious hauteur. "The hell they're not!" said Terry. Sherman ignored him completely. "My meeting with them was purely casual," he resumed. "They are prominent, impartial citizens of San Francisco, seeking to make peace. They have, I understand, seen Coleman; are prepared to offer certain compromises." "Aha!" cried Howard, "the rabble is caving in. They're ready to quit." Johnson looked at Sherman as if for confirmation. He shook his head. "Far from it." "Cannot they state their business in writing?" asked Johnson. "Send them packing, the damned pork merchants!" Terry said, as if issuing a command. Again the Governor seemed to hesitate. Again his glance sought Sherman's. "That would be unwise," returned the soldier. The Governor summoned a clerk. "Ask the committee to put their business in writing!" he ordered. When the man had gone he once more addressed Sherman: "Wool absolutely refuses to provide the militia with arms." Terry's fist smote the table with a crash. A stream of vituperation issued from his lips. General Wool, the Vigilance Committee and Admiral Farragut were vilified in terms so crude that even the other men surveyed the Chief Justice with distaste. Sherman turned to the door. "Governor, I've had enough of this," he spoke sharply. "I shall send you my resignation tonight." He went out, leaving Johnson to mutter distressedly. "Never mind," said Terry, "give his job to Volney. He'll drive the damned pork merchants into the sea." "What about rifles and ammunition?" asked Howard with sudden practicality. They looked at each other blankly. Then the wily Jones came forward with a shrewd suggestion. "Wool can't refuse you the regular quota of arms for annual replenishment," he said. "Get those by requisition. Ship them down to San Francisco. Reub Maloney is here. He'll carry them down in a sloop." "But they're only a few hundred guns," said the Governor. "They'll help," contended Jones. "They'll make a showing." "Suppose Coleman hears about it; he'll seize them on the bay." "Then he'll commit an act of 'piracy'," Baker said, explosively. Terry took his feet from the table, rose. "By God!" he exclaimed, "there's an idea! Piracy! A capital offense!" He crammed his hands into his pockets and strode heavily up and down. "Coleman's not likely to hear of our sending these arms," said the Governor. Jones poured another drink and sipped it. "Isn't he, though?" He laughed softly. "You fellows just leave that to me." He caught up his hat and went out. "A smart little man," remarked Howard Baker, complacently.