to school. As if the sight of the building, itself, would sharpen
his memory, he turned north and drove past it. Like its south, east and
west counterparts, it was a solid two-story brick affair. In time it
would be demolished to make way for what would be known as the "Emerson
School," in which, to be worthy of this high title, the huge stoves
would be supplanted with hot-water pipes, oil lamps with soft, indirect
lighting, and unsightly out-buildings with modern plumbing. The South
building would become the "Whittier School," the East, the "Longfellow,"
and the West, not to be neglected by culture's invasion, the "Oliver
Wendell Holmes." But these changes were still to be effected. Many
a school board meeting was first to be split into stormy factions of
conservatives fighting to hold the old, and of anarchists threatening
civilization with their clamors for experimentation. Many a bond
election was yet to rip the town in two, with the retired farmers, whose
children were grown and through school, satisfied with things as they
were and parents of the new generation demanding gymnasiums, tennis
courts, victrolas, domestic science laboratories, a public health nurse
and individual lockers. Yes, and the faddists were to win despite
the other side's incontrovertible evidence that Fallon was headed for
bankruptcy and that the proposed bonds and outstanding ones could never
be met.

Martin drove, meditatively, around the school-house and was still
engrossed in the problem of "Who?" when he reached the Square. The neat
canvas drops of later years had not yet replaced the wooden awnings
which gave to the town such a decidedly western appearance and which
threw the sidewalks and sheltered windows into deep pools of shadow. The
old brick store-building which housed The First State Bank was like
a cool cavern. He brought out the check quietly but with a full
consciousness that with one gesture he was shoving enough over that
scratched and worn walnut counter to buy out half the bank.

James Osborne, the youthful cashier, feigned complete paralysis.

"Why don't you give a poor fellow some warning?" he beamed
good-naturedly, "or maybe you think you've strayed into Wall Street.
This is Fallon. Fallon, Kansas. So you've had your merry little session
with Robinson? Put it here!" and he extended a cordial hand.

"Oh, considering the wait, it isn't so wonderful. Sixteen thousand is an
awful lot when it's coming, but it just seems ab