they passed Mr. Burroughs, his wife and
daughter. They had come from Butte to witness his triumph. Surely the
wife would congratulate, the daughter be proud of her father.

Moore was left at the rail which separated the legislators from the
spectators, but Senator Blair's sister went with him and found a seat at
his side. Charlie's face was ghastly, and the doctor, surprised beyond
measure at sight of him, kept guard with a watchful eye.

Blair's entrance into the chamber with its atmosphere of suspense drew
every nerve taut. Senator Danvers saw him and his heart sank. His
efforts had been in vain! He bowed to Winifred, though he had not seen
even his own sister, far in the rear of the hall--there were no
galleries for spectators.

It was a moment long remembered by that breathless crowd. Men, drowning,
see their whole lives as in a flashlight's glare. So did Danvers see his
past. He was again a boy, embarking on the _Far West_, and he breathed
the wet spring air, blowing over prairie and river. He was with the men
on the upper deck, and noted their glances of curiosity. Their youth
seemed never to have faded, as he remembered the delicate face of the
joyous Latimer, the kind glance of the doctor, the western breeziness of
Toe String Joe and the quieter manner of Scar Faced Charlie; while the
debonair arrogance of Sweet Oil Bob stirred his fighting blood afresh.
Eva Thornhill's beautiful face came, bewitching in its youth, and little
Winnie's trusting smile again reached his heart. Even Fort Benton, a
busy port of entry, as he first saw it, and Wild Cat Bill's drunken
animosity, leaped out as the searchlight of recollection swept the past.

Then Memory's moving picture brought the same faces, shaded or illumined
as each temperament exposed its impulse; changed and moulded by hidden
thoughts, unexploited forces of character and assimilated environment.
Came a sigh for Arthur Latimer, asleep after life's bright beginning and
shadowed close. A thought of Eva, broken and undone; of Winifred----

Every thought and act of his life led up to this moment. Could he let
this plot be consummated? Not while the blood so pounded in his veins.
He must speak--no one else would. Outraged decency demanded. The honor
of the state demanded.

He forgot that he was an alien by birth--that he must expose many of his
friends; it did not occur to him that he had never made a public speech,
that his denunciation would ruin his political f