Doane ignored this, waiting quietly until the door was opened.  Then he detailed a guard for the prisoners.  At 4 o’clock—­an hour after Hopkins had been wounded—­Terry, Ashe and half a dozen others were locked in cells at Fort Vigilance.  Once more the town was quiet.

“It is all over,” Benito told his wife, whom he found in Coleman’s office.  “We can go home now.”  Little Robert slept.  His mother picked him up gently.

“What will they do with Judge Terry?” she asked in an excited whisper.

“If Hopkins dies they’ll hang him sure as shooting,” said Benito.

Sterling Hopkins did not die, despite the serious nature of his wound.  Had he done so many a different chapter might have been recorded in the history of San Francisco.  Hopkins lived to pass into inconsequence.  Terry was released to wreak once more his violent hatred on a fellow being, to perish in a third and final outburst of that savagery which marred his whole career.

Captain Ashe and others taken in the Terry raid were soon released upon parole.  The Supreme Court Judge remained a prisoner in Fort Vigilance for many weeks.

After days and nights of wrestling with the situation, the Committee judged the prisoner guilty of assault.  As the usual punishment within their power to inflict was not applicable in this case, the prisoner was discharged.  It was pointedly suggested that the best interests of the State demanded his resignation.  To this, however, Terry paid no heed.

Broderick, who had been out of town, campaigning, met Ike Bluxome on Montgomery street.

“I thought you folks were going to disband,” he spoke half-banteringly.  And Bluxome answered with, his usual gravity.  “We thought so, too ... but Terry jumped into the picture.  Now he’s boasting that the Committee didn’t dare to hold him longer.”  Bluxome smiled faintly.  “He was meek enough till Hopkins had recovered ... offered to resign and quit the State forever.”

“I believe in Terry,” Broderick remarked.  “He’s quarrelsome, but brave—­and honest as a judge.  I spent a lot of money in a newspaper fight to help him through this mess.”

Bluxome eyed him keenly.  “Yes, I know you did.  I know you were sincere, too, Broderick.  That’s why we didn’t bother you for bribing the editors.  But you will get no thanks from Terry.  He’s against you on the slavery question.  He’d kill you tomorrow if he got a chance.  You or any other man that’s in his way.  Watch out for him.”

“Nonsense,” said Broderick, and walked away.

* * * * *

On August 18th the Vigilantes paraded for the last time.  There were four artillery batteries with an armament of fifteen cannon.  Then came the Executive Committee followed by two companies of dragoons, each preceded by a band; the medical staff of fifty members, the Committee of 1851, some half a hundred strong, and four regiments of infantry.