hod. She was just mounting to ride off as Phil returned, Hanson
having attended to her needs. But her bright smile of remembrance and
the wave of salutation with her riding crop left something pleasant
with Phil that lingered near him till closing time.

The next day he heard casually that she had joined her father on his
tour of the Valley. And he heard something else that disturbed him
more; although, why it should do so, he could not really understand,
for it was no affair of his. He heard that Mayor Brenchfield had been
invited--and had accepted the invitation--to attach himself to the
Royce Pederstone party in order to give the candidate the support of
his fluent tongue and widespread influence.

Somehow Phil resented Brenchfield's apparent friendliness with the
Pederstones. To his mind, Eileen Pederstone was too trusting, too
straight, and honest, and pure-minded to be even for a little time in
the company of a man of the stamp of Brenchfield.

He often wondered at the tremendous wall of protection which
Brenchfield seemed to have raised about himself, and he puzzled as to
where the breach in that wall might be--for of a breach somewhere he
was certain. He wondered who would be first to find it, when it would
be likely to be widened and carried. And after his wondering came the
hope and the determination that he would be there to lend a hand at
the storming of the stronghold.

But these were not consuming desires with Phil. He had a life of work
ahead of him; he had lost time to make up; he had ambitions to fulfil;
great things to do; there were fortunes to be won by determination,
shrewdness and ability, and he was not going to be behind in the
winning of one of them.

That was the day Sol Hanson was called out to repair some machinery
belonging to The Evaporating Company, leaving Phil alone to run the
smithy as best he could.

He had been only a few hours at work when Mayor Brenchfield flung
himself from his gigantic thoroughbred and came forward into the shop,
smiling amiably.

"Well, Phil!--so you're learning to be a blacksmith. Pretty hard
work--isn't it, old man?"

Phil stopped and looked across at him.

When Brenchfield was most pleasant, he knew that was the time for him
to be most on his guard.

"It is more honest than some work I could name."

"Poof!--any fool can be a smith. Why don't you get into something
worth while?"

"This suits me!"

"You're devilish snappy, Phil. What the hell's