Casey’s arm was outstretched, pointed at King’s breast.  “Draw and defend yourself,” he said loudly.  He shut his eyes and a little puff of smoke seemed to spring from the ends of his fingers, followed in the fraction of a second by a sharp report.

Benito ran with all his might toward the men.  He did not think that King was hit, for the editor turned toward the Pacific Express office.  On the threshold he stumbled.  A clerk ran out and caught the tall figure as it collapsed.

Benito looked about for King’s assailant.  He saw a group of men on Washington street, but was unable to distinguish Casey among them, though McGowan’s lanky form was visible.

At Benito’s feet lay a pocket-memorandum marked with a splash of red.  The young man picked it up and read: 

“Piano for Annie.

“Crayons for Joe.

“Candy—­”

A man with a medicine case shouldered his way in.  He was Dr. Hammond.  “Get a basin,” he ordered, “some warm water.”  He unbuttoned the wounded man’s coat, looking grave as he saw the spreading red stain on his shirt.

“Will he get well, doctor?” shouted a dozen voices.

[Illustration:  “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.]

“Can’t tell ... ’fraid not,” Hammond answered, and a sympathetic silence followed his announcement.

Someone cried:  “Where’s Casey?”

Word came that Casey was in jail.  “He gave himself up,” a man said.

Presently there was a sound of carriage wheels.  A white-faced woman made her way to the express office.  The crowd stood with bared heads as it opened a way for her passage.  The woman was Mrs. King.  They heard her sobbing.

Gerberding and Nesbitt came and made their exit after a short stay.  Tears ran down Nesbitt’s cheeks.  “I told him so,” they heard him muttering, “I told him so....  He wouldn’t listen....  Didn’t take his pistol.”

Last of all came William Coleman, lips pressed tightly together, eyes hard.  He remained only a few moments.  Benito hailed him as he emerged from the express office.

“Any chance of recovery?”

“Very little.”  The tone was grim.

“I hate to think of what may happen if he dies?” Windham commented.

“Hell will break loose,” Coleman stated with conviction.  “Better come along, Benito.  I’m going to find Ike Bluxome.  It’s time we prepared.”

CHAPTER XLII

THE COMMITTEE ORGANIZES

When Benito rode up Montgomery street next morning he saw a litter being carried out of the Pacific Express Office.  Beside it, were Mrs. King, Dr. Hammond and John Sime.  They walked very slowly and the crowd fell back on either side as the litter-bearers progressed.

Benito’s heart stood still a moment.  “Is he—?” the question formed reluctantly upon his lips.  But David Broderick, standing by, reassured him.