"

"And that is?"

"His Nation," said the girl.

Moyese gave her a quick sharp look that was not unkindly. In fact,
Eleanor could read that it was lonely, irritated, isolated.

"My dear," he said, coming round where she stood, "we differ on
fundamentals. The whole nation to-day is divided on fundamentals. I'm
no mealy mouth to curse plutocracy in order to please the mob.
Plutocracy fills the workman's dinner pail and keeps the mills going
and opens the mines and builds the railroads. Mobocracy, your grubby
corn cob and trashy roses, that, what does it do? Mouthe and mouthe
and try to pull down what is above it! It will have to be fought out!
No? It will not be another French Revolution! _Our bullets are
ballots, nowadays_; and the American people get exactly the form of
Government which they want. If they want another form, it remains with
them to fight for it. The umpire of all is fact--Miss Eleanor; and the
facts of each side will have to be fought out; the better man will win;
be sure of that! _The facts that are facts not fictions will win, with
ballots for bullets_. For my part, I'll not dodge the issue; and I
hope you'll not think me any the less of the hero for that?"

He had extended his hand as he talked, and to her surprise, she found
herself taking it when with a wave of revulsion, the memory of the
Ridge and the Rim Rocks came back.

"And government is a mere game of politics?" she said. "And politics
resolves itself into brute force; and a murder more or less doesn't
matter? Fordie, I suppose, would be classed as one of the scrubs
sacrificed for this perfection of party?"

His hand dropped hers as if she had struck him.

"You did not know that you were overheard? 'See that no harm comes to
the boy.' You did not mean Fordie to be murdered; but they were to
crowd the sheep over 'to beat Hell,' 'the sheep were to go it
blind'--my father's and Mr. Williams' property was to be sacrificed to
build up the fortune of the cattle barons: they too, I suppose, are
scrubs sacrificed among the many for the wealth of the one, who happens
to be yourself. You broke the law; but because you did not order
Fordie's murder, you think the blood guiltiness from that broken law
does not rest upon you. You say it must all be fought out. You force
the fight--"

He raised his hand to stop her. She remembered afterwards how ashy
white and aged his face became. He walked to the door and opened it.
She p