and gazed upon a hundred bearded faces, on
which the flickering firelight played eerily. In the hush he could hear
the big winds wailing through the trees outside.

Ward stood in advance of the rest, his mighty fists clinched, his face
quivering and puckering in his passion. As the young man began to speak,
he attempted to bellow him into silence. But Connick strode forward,
put his massive hands on Gideon's shoulders, and thrust him down upon
a near-by seat. The big woodsman, his rebellion once started, seemed to
exult in it.

"One of the by-laws of this ly-cee-um is that the meetin' sha'n't be
disturbed!" he growled. "Colonel Gid Ward, ye will kindly listen to this
speech for the good of the order or I'll gag ye! You've had a good many
years to talk to us in and you've done it. Go ahead, young man! You've
got the floor an' Dan Connick's in the chair." He rolled his sleeves
above his elbows and gazed truculently on the assemblage.

"For your brother's sake," cried the young engineer, "I offer you one
more chance to listen to reason, Colonel Gideon Ward! Do you take it?"

"No!" was the infuriated shout.

"Then listen to the story of a scoundrel!"

[Illustration: Listen to the story of a scoundrel 216-246]

The men did listen, for Parker spoke with all the eloquence that
indignation and honest sentiment could inspire. He first told the story
of the wrecked life of the brother, and pointed to the bent figure
of the hermit of Little Moxie, standing in the shadows. Once or twice
Joshua lifted his quavering voice in feeble protest, but the ringing
tones of the young man overbore his halting speech. Several times
Connick was obliged to force the colonel back on the deacons' seat, each
time with more ferocity of mien.

Then Parker came to his own ambitions to carry out the orders of his
employers. He explained the legal status of the affair, and passed
quickly on to the exciting events of the night on which he had been
bound and sent upon his ride into the forest, to meet some fate, he
knew not what. He described the brutal slaughter of the moose, and the
immediate dismemberment of the animal. He noticed with interest that
many men who had displayed no emotion as he described poor old Joshua's
sufferings now grunted angrily at hearing the revelation concerning
the fate of Ben, the camp mascot. This dramatic explanation of Ward's
furious cruelty to the poor beast proved, curiously enough, the turning
point in Parker's