"
"But," said Broderick, "mob rule is dangerous. The constituted
authorities must command. They are the ones to uphold the law."
"But what if they don't?" Brannan's aggressive chin was thrust forward.
"What then?"
"They must be made to; but authority should not be overthrown. That's
revolution."
"And where, may I ask, would human liberty be today if there'd never
been a revolution?" Brannan countered.
Benito left them. He had no stomach for such argument, though he was to
hear much more of it in years to come. Suddenly he recalled the man who
had tried to coach the Kanaka; who had glared so murderously at Mellus.
Those eyes had been familiar; something about them had made him grip his
pistol, an impulse at which afterward he had laughed. But now he knew
the reason for that half-involuntary action. Despite the beard and
mustache covering the lower portion of his face completely; despite the
low-pulled hat, the disguising ulster, he knew the man.
McTurpin.
The hot Spanish temper which he had never entirely mastered, flamed like
a scorching blast across Benito's mind. He saw again McTurpin smiling as
he won by fraud the stake at cards which he had laid against Benito's
ranch; he seemed to hear again the gambler's sneering laugh as he, his
father and Adrian had been ambushed at the entrance of his home; in his
recollection burned the fellow's insult to his sister; the abduction of
Alice, his wife; the murder of his partner.
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