ngs, he obstinately persisted in pawing for the honey. He gritted
his teeth and struck back. Beginning with a raid on two steamship
companies, it developed into a pitched battle with a city, a state, and
a continental coastline. Very well; they wanted fight, and they would
get it. It was what he wanted, and he felt justified in having come
down from the Klondike, for here he was gambling at a bigger table than
ever the Yukon had supplied. Allied with him, on a splendid salary,
with princely pickings thrown in, was a lawyer, Larry Hegan, a young
Irishman with a reputation to make, and whose peculiar genius had been
unrecognized until Daylight picked up with him. Hegan had Celtic
imagination and daring, and to such degree that Daylight's cooler head
was necessary as a check on his wilder visions. Hegan's was a
Napoleonic legal mind, without balance, and it was just this balance
that Daylight supplied. Alone, the Irishman was doomed to failure, but
directed by Daylight, he was on the highroad to fortune and
recognition. Also, he was possessed of no more personal or civic
conscience than Napoleon.

It was Hegan who guided Daylight through the intricacies of modern
politics, labor organization, and commercial and corporation law. It
was Hegan, prolific of resource and suggestion, who opened Daylight's
eyes to undreamed possibilities in twentieth-century warfare; and it
was Daylight, rejecting, accepting, and elaborating, who planned the
campaigns and prosecuted them. With the Pacific coast from Peugeot
Sound to Panama, buzzing and humming, and with San Francisco furiously
about his ears, the two big steamship companies had all the appearance
of winning. It looked as if Burning Daylight was being beaten slowly
to his knees. And then he struck--at the steamship companies, at San
Francisco, at the whole Pacific coast.

It was not much of a blow at first. A Christian Endeavor convention
being held in San Francisco, a row was started by Express Drivers'
Union No. 927 over the handling of a small heap of baggage at the Ferry
Building. A few heads were broken, a score of arrests made, and the
baggage was delivered. No one would have guessed that behind this
petty wrangle was the fine Irish hand of Hegan, made potent by the
Klondike gold of Burning Daylight. It was an insignificant affair at
best--or so it seemed. But the Teamsters' Union took up the quarrel,
backed by the whole Water Front Federation. Step by st