To the heart of the martyred Stevens these words struck panic. But as
he opened his mouth to protest, the catastrophe occurred. There was a
snap, and the toboggan shot downward. Bound as he was, the victim
could see below him a brick wall right across the path of his descent.
He was helpless to move; it was useless to cry out. For all that, as
he felt in imagination the crushing shock of his head driven like a
battering-ram against this wall, he uttered a roar such as from
Achilles might have roused armed nations to battle. And even as he did
so, his head touched the wall, there was a crash, and Stevens lay safe
on a mattress after his ten-foot slide, surrounded by fragments of
red-and-white paper which had lately been a wall. He was pale and
agitated, and generally done for; but tremendously relieved when he had
assured himself of the integrity of his cranium. This he did by
repeatedly feeling of his head, and looking at his fingers for
sanguinary results. As Amidon looked at him, he repented of what he
had done to this thoroughly maltreated fellow man. After the Catacombs
scene, which was supposed to be impressive, and some more of the
"secret" work, everybody crowded about Stevens, now invested with the
collar and "jewel" of Martyrhood, and laughed, and congratulated him as
on some great achievement, while he looked half-pleased and half-bored.
Amidon with the rest greeted him, and told him that after his vacation
was over, he hoped to see him back at the office.

"That was a fine exemplification of the principles of the Order," said
Alvord as they went home.

"What was?" asked Amidon.

"Hiring old Stevens back," answered Alvord. "You've got to live your
principles, or they don't amount to much."

"Suppose some fellow should get into a lodge," asked Amidon, "who had
never been initiated?"

"Well," said Alvord, "there isn't much chance of that. I shouldn't
dare to say. You can't tell what the fellows would do when such sacred
things were profaned, you know. You couldn't tell what they might do!"

XIV

THE TREASON OF ISEGRIM THE WOLF

Then up and spake Reynard, the Fox, King Leo's throne before:
"My clients, haled before you, Sire, deserve not frown nor roar!
These flocks and herds and sties, dread lord, should thanks
give for our care--
The care of Isegrim the Wolf, and Bruin strong, the Bear!
Its usefulness, its innocence, our Syndicate protests.
We crave the Court's