The Bulletin twice enlarged its form. It sold by the thousand. Its weapon of defence was the same as its weapon of offence—pitiless and complete publicity. Measures of reprisal, either direct or underhand, undertaken against him, King published often without comment.
At the first some of the cooler heads thought it might be well to reason with him.
"The man has run a muck," said old Judge Girvin, "and while I am far from denying that In many—perhaps in most—cases his facts are correct, still his methods make for lawlessness among the masses. It might be well to meet him reasonably, and to expostulate."
"I'd expostulate—with a blacksnake," growled the fiery Terry.
A number waited on King. Keith was among them. They found his office in a small ramshackle frame building, situated in the middle instead of alongside one of the back streets. It had probably been one of the early small dwelling-houses, marooned by a resurvey of the streets, and never since moved. King sat in his shirtsleeves before a small flat table. He looked up at them uncompromisingly from his wide-apart steady eyes.
"Gentlemen," he greeted them tentatively.
Judge Girvin seated himself impressively, his fat legs well apart, his beaver hat and cane poised in his left hand; the others, grouped themselves back of him. The judge stated the moderate case well. "We do not deny any man the right to his opinion," he concluded, "but have you reflected on the effect such an expression often has on the minds of those not trained to control?"
King listened to him in silence.
"It seems to me, sir," he answered, when Judge Girvin had quite finished, "that if abuses exist they should be exposed until they are remedied; and that the remedy should come from the law."
"What is your impelling motive?" asked the judge. "Why have you so suddenly taken up this form of activity? Do you feel aggrieved in any way—personally?"