ion.
Then with a whirl he grasped Neale round the shoulders and shoved him
face to face with the others.

"Here's the kind of man we want on this job!" he shouted, with red face
and bulging jaw. "His name's Neale. I've heard of some of his surveys.
You've all seen him face this council. That only, gentlemen, is the
spirit which can build the U. P. R. Let's push him up. Let's send him to
Washington with those figures. Let's break this damned idiotic law for
appointing commissioners to undo the work of efficient men."

Opportunity was again knocking at Neale's door.

Allison Lee arose in the flurry, and his calm, cold presence, the steel
of his hard gray eyes, and the motion of his hand entitled him to a
voice.

"Mr. Warburton--and gentlemen," he said, "_I_ remember this young
engineer Neale. When I got here to-day I inquired about him, remembering
that he had taken severe exception to the judgment of the commissioners
about that five miles of road-bed. I learned he is a strange, excitable
young fellow, who leaves his work for long wild trips and who is a
drunkard and a gambler. It seems to me somewhat absurd seriously to
consider the false report with which he has excited this council."

"It's not false," retorted Neale, with flashing eyes. Then he appealed
to Warburton and he was white and eloquent. "You directors know better.
This man. Lee is no engineer. He doesn't know a foot-grade from a
forty-five-degree slope. Not a man in that outfit had the right or the
knowledge to pass judgment on our work. It's political. It's a damned
outrage. It's graft."

Another commissioner bounced up with furious gestures.

"We'll have you fired!" he shouted.

Neale looked at him and back at Allison Lee and then at Warburton.

"I quit," he declared, with scorn. "To hell with your rotten railroad!"

Another hubbub threatened in the big tent. Some one yelled for quiet.

And suddenly there was quiet, but it did not come from that individual's
call. A cowboy had detached himself from the group of curious onlookers
and had confronted the council with two big guns held low.

"Red! Hold on!" cried Neale.

It was Larry. One look at him blanched Neale's face.

"Everybody sit still an' let me talk," drawled Larry, with the cool,
reckless manner that now seemed so deadly.

No one moved, and the silence grew unnatural. The cowboy advanced a few
strides. His eyes, with a singular piercing intentness, were bent upon
Allison Lee, yet