railroad itself had broken the law of the State and the law of
humanity. It had defied every principle of justice and common decency.
It had burned the homes of law-supporting, good men in the hills. Yet
the law had not raised a hand to punish it. But now when the railroad
itself had suffered, the whole might of the State was ready to be set
in motion to punish the men of the hills who had merely paid their
debt.

But Jeffrey Whiting could not say to himself that he had not
foreseen all this from the outset. Those days of thinking in jail had
given him an insight into realities that years of growth and
observation of things outside might not have produced in him. He had
been given time to see that some things are insurmountable, that
things may be wrong and unsound and utterly unjust and still persist
and go on indefinitely. Youth does not readily admit this. Jeffrey
Whiting had recognised it as a fact. And yet, knowing this, he had
led these men, his friends, men who trusted him, upon this mad
raid. They had come without the clear vision of the end which he now
realised had been his from the start. They had thought that they
could accomplish something, that they had some chance of winning a
victory over the railroad. They had believed that the power of the
State would intervene to settle the differences between them and
their enemy. Jeffrey Whiting knew, must have known all along, that the
moment a tie was torn up on the railroad the whole strength of the
State would be put forth to capture these men and punish them. There
would be no compromise. There would be no bargaining. If they
surrendered and gave themselves up now they would be jailed for
varying terms. If they did not, if they stayed here and fought, some
of them would be killed and injured and in one way or another all
would suffer in the end.

He had done them a cruel wrong. The truth of this struck him with
startling clearness now. He had led them into this without letting
them see the full extent of what they were doing, as he must have seen
it.

There was but one thing to do. If they dispersed now and scattered
themselves through the hills few of them would ever be identified. And
if he went down and surrendered alone the railroad would be almost
satisfied with punishing him. It was the one just and right thing to
do.

He went swiftly among the men where they stood among the trees,
waiting with poised rifles for the word to fire upon the advancing