"I won't leave this camp, Harris, till I get your answer," calmly remarks Joseph. He refuses to waste more words in explanation. "See Hardin," is his only phrase. "It's open war then between him and me."
Harris, with a very grave face, enters the private rooms of Judge Hardin at the Orleans Hotel.
Hardin listens, with scowling brow as black as night. He tears open the envelop! His faithful henchman wonders what can bring night's blackness to Judge Hardin's face.
The lines are a careful acknowledgment of the paternity of the girl child of "Natalie de Santos," born at San Francisco and now about eighteen years of age. It closes with a statement of her right to inherit as a lawful heiress from him.
"I will shoot that dog on sight, if he carries out this threat," deliberately says Hardin.
"Judge," coldly replies his lieutenant, "does this note refer to public affairs, or to party interests?"
"Private matters!" replies Hardin, his eyes flashing.
"Then, let me say, I will keep silent in this matter. I shall ask you to name some other man to handle your candidacy before the Legislature. Joe Woods is honest, and absolutely of iron nerve. You can send for any of your other friends, and choose a man to take my place. I won't fight Joe. Woods never lied in his life.
"If you will state that you have adjusted this difference with him, I am at your service. Let me know your decision soon. He waits for me. In all else, I am yours, as a friend, but I will not embroil the State now for a mere private feud. Send for me, Judge, when you have decided."
In the long and heated conferences of the night, before the sun again pours its shimmering golden waves on the parched plains of Sacramento, Hardin finds no one who will face the mysterious situation.