consoled--hadn't she spoken kindly of Johnny
Montgomery as a nice boy? But it was the last good word I was to hear
of him for a week. I needed the memory of that cheer and consolation
through the next hard days.

For now that I was recovered from the shock of the first day I began to
realize that the shooting of Martin Rood was not at all an ordinary
shooting. It had stirred up great excitement. Only one month had
passed since the president's assassination; the feeling against the
Southerners was still very bitter, and not only were all the
Montgomerys dyed-in-the-wool Alabamians, but some of the relatives had
fought on the Southern side. Rumors flew about the city of a mob
attacking the prison. There was a guard of soldiers around it the
first night, and when they took him from there to the jail on Broadway,
it was in the middle of an armed escort. All sorts of stories as to
what had caused the shooting were abroad, but the one thing the reports
agreed upon was the fact that the quarrel had been of long standing.
This was very exciting to hear about, yet I didn't enjoy talking of it
as the other girls did.

Only when I was alone, with hot cheeks and anxious eyes, I read through
the long accounts that filled the papers, hoping to find some word in
his favor. It seemed to me that the whole city was against Johnny
Montgomery. The _Bulletin_ had stories of another shooting down South,
though it appeared that that time he had been the one who was shot at;
and of how he had lost his money in land speculations of a doubtful
character. The _Alta California_ called him a rebel, and said that his
career had been "a demoralizing influence to the youth of the city."
Though, on the other hand, it called Mr. Rood our esteemed and lamented
citizen, which was puzzling to me, for he was only a gambling-house
keeper whom none of the best men in town was friendly with. But the
papers spoke very warmly of him; called Mrs. Rood, Senior, his
sorrowing mother, and then they mentioned the Spanish Woman. They said
she had been in love with Rood, and that he had expected to marry her.
That recalled a memory of what father had told me when I first asked
him about the Spanish Woman--that she had money, and influence in high
places--and I wondered what that influence could do to Johnny
Montgomery's case. Altogether I was much disturbed. I hated to ask
questions of father, he had been so distressed over my part in the
affair; and be