look there was something questioning and something menacing.

"There's no controversy and hence no need of your services. The men
stopped work, refused to return, and now the case is closed."

"My dear sir, let us talk it over," said the Senator, bringing forth a
pair of spectacles and setting the bow upon his nose.

The engineer's visage failed to relax at this pacific proposal.

"I gave them their chance and they declined; they'll have no other,"
he stated. "Those men have browbeaten the company long enough. They
refused, and as I anticipated that refusal I made preparations
accordingly; a hundred and fifty white workmen arrived at Bowenville
from Denver this morning and a hundred and fifty more will come
to-morrow. They will do the work."

The Senator's lips quivered and the upper one lifted in a movement
like a snarl, showing tobacco-stained teeth.

"The matter isn't closed, understand that," he snapped out. "We have
the directors' promise no outside labor shall be brought in here for
this job, and the promise shall be kept."

"The new men go to work in the morning," Weir said.

"You'll repent of this action, young man, you'll repent of it." The
Senator seized the whisky bottle and angrily poured himself a second
drink. "You'll repent of it as sure as your name is--is--whatever it
is."

The engineer took a step nearer the older man. His face now was as
hard as granite.

"Weir is my name," he said. "Did you ever hear it before?"

"Weir--Weir?" came in a questioning mutter.

"Yes, Weir."

The speaker's eyes held the Senator's in savage leash, and a slight
tremble presently began to shake the old man. Atkinson and Meyers and
even the volatile Mexican lawyer, Martinez, remained unstirring, for
in the situation they suddenly sensed something beyond their ken, some
current of deep unknown forces, some play of fierce, obscure and
fateful passion.

A shadow of gray stole over Gordon's lineaments.

"You are--are the son of----" came gasping forth.

"I am. His son."

"And--and----"

"And I know what happened thirty years ago in this selfsame room!"

The whisky that the Senator had poured into his glass suddenly slopped
over his fingers; his figure all at once appeared more aged, hollow,
bent. Without further word, with his hand still shaking, he set the
glass on the bar, mechanically picked up the law book and walked
feebly towards the door.

Steele Weir turned his gaze on the saloon-keeper, Vorse. T