still enough of them left to save the
world. But when it comes to men like Sam--well, it would take a
Diogenes to find another."

"I don't see how even Mr. Pelton, angry as he was, dared shoot him."

"He had been drinking hard for a week. That will explain anything when
you add it to his, temperament. I never liked the fellow."

"I suppose that is why you saved his life when the miners took him and
were going to lynch him?"

"I would not have lifted a hand for him. That's the bald truth. But I
couldn't let the boys spoil the moral effect of their victory by so
gross a mistake. It would have been playing right into Harley's hands."

"Can a man get over being drunk in five minutes? I never saw anybody
more sober than Mr. Pelton when the mob were crying for vengeance and
you were fighting them back."

"A great shock will sober a man. Pelton is an errant coward, and he had
pretty good reason to think he had come to the end of the passage. The
boys weren't playing. They meant business."

"They would not have listened to another man in the world except you,"
she told him proudly.

"It was really Sam they listened to--when he sent out the message
asking them to let the law have its way."

"No, I think it was the way you handled the message. You're a wizard at
a speech, you know."

"Thanks."

He glanced up, for Alphonse was waiting at his elbow.

"You're wanted on the telephone, monsieur."

"You can't get away from business even for an hour, can you?" she
rallied. "My heaven wouldn't suit you at all, unless I smuggled in a
trust for you to fight."

"I expect it is Eaton," he explained. "Steve phoned down to the office
that he isn't feeling well to-day. I asked him to have me called up
here. If he isn't better, I'm going to drop round and see him."

But when she caught sight of his face as he returned she knew it was
serious.

"What's the matter? Is it Mr. Eaton? Is he very ill?" she cried.

His face was set like broken ice refrozen. "Yes, it's Eaton. They
say--but it can't be true!"

She had never seen him so moved. "What is it, Waring?"

"The boy has sold me out. He is at the courthouse now, undoing my
work--the Judas!"

The angry blood swept imperiously into her cheeks. "Don't waste any
more time with me, Waring. Go--go and save yourself from the traitor.
Perhaps it is not too late yet."

He flung her a grateful look. "You're true blue, Virginia. Come! I'll
leave you at the store as we pass."

Th