Sinton pulled at his chin a moment. "Go ahead then," he urged. "I'll loan you the money."
King's hand shot out to grasp the auctioneer's. "There ought to be 10,000 decent citizens in San Francisco who'll give us their support. Let's go and see the owner of that print-shop now."
On the afternoon of October 5th, 1885, a tiny four-page paper made its first appearance on the streets of San Francisco.
The first page, with its queer jumble of news and advertisements, had a novel and attractive appearance quite apart from the usual standards of typographical make-up. People laughed at King's naive editorial apology for entering an overcrowded and none-too-prosperous field; they nodded approvingly over his promise to tell the truth with fearless impartiality.
William Coleman was among the first day's visitors.
"Good luck to you, James King of William," he held forth a friendly hand. The editor, turning, rose and grasped it with sincere cordiality. They stood regarding each other silently. It seemed almost as though a prescience of what was to come lay in that curious communion of heart and mind.
"Going after the crooks, I understand," said Coleman finally.
"Big and little," King retorted. "That's all the paper's for. I don't expect to make money."
"How about the Southerners, the Chivalry party? They'll challenge you to duels daily."