top of another las' year. It's a plumb shame."

It was from talks such as these in the village stores that the fire of
public demand for a new school building--if not for a new system of
education--finally burst into open flame.

Usually, when there was a public meeting, the basement of the Union
Church---"the old vestry", as it was called--was used. But although
Mr. Middler had timidly expressed himself as in favor of a new school
building, he did not have the courage to offer the use of the vestry
room.

Therefore the reading-room next to the drug store was one evening
crowded with earnest supporters of the belief that it was time Poketown
built a new structure for the training of her youth.

Janice saw to it that Uncle Jason went. Indeed, with Janice on one
side and Marty on the other, Mr. Day could scarcely escape, for his son
and his niece accompanied him to the place of meeting.

Not that the young folks went in, for there wasn't room. It seemed
that the people who favored a change in the old town's affairs were
pretty numerous, and there was not a dissenting voice in the meeting.
It was decided to have a special town meeting called to vote, if
possible, an appropriation for the building of a new schoolhouse.

This first meeting was only a beginning. It served merely to solidify
that public opinion which was in favor of the improvement. At once
opposition raised its head, and during the fortnight preceding the town
meeting, argument, _pro_ and _con_, was hotter than at election time.

Janice was deeply interested in the project, although she had, during
these first weeks of the New Year, more important thoughts to fill her
heart and mind. Daddy was writing to her regularly. The mine
buildings were being re-erected. The old force had come back to work,
and for the first time since Broxton Day had arrived in Mexico, the
outlook for getting out ore and making regular "clean-ups" was bright.
But trouble down there was not yet at an end, and that worried her
greatly.

The story of her father's captivity in the hands of the brigand,
Raphele, had been made of light moment in Mr. Day's letters that
immediately followed his escape; but Janice understood enough about it
to know that God had been very good to her. Some other American mining
men and ranchers in Granadas had not escaped with their lives and
property from Raphele and his ilk.

Daddy sent a photograph, too; but that was not until he had recov