."

And that was all there was to be done until he could come into Plank's
camp with arms and banners, a conquered man, cynical of the mercy he
dared not expect and which, in all his life, he had never, never shown
to man, to woman, or to child.

Plank slept the sleep of utter exhaustion that night; the morning found
him haggard but strong, cool in his triumph, serious, stern faced,
almost sad that his work was done, the battle won.

From his own house he telegraphed a curt summons to Harrington and to
Quarrier for a conference in his own office; then, finishing whatever
business his morning mail required, put on his hat and went to see the
one man in the world he was most glad for.

He found him at breakfast, sipping coffee and wrinkling his brows over
the eternal typewritten pages. And Plank's face cleared at the sight and
he sat down, laughing aloud.

"It's all over, Siward," he said. "Harrington knows it; Quarrier knows
it by this time. Their judge crawled in yesterday and threw himself
on our mercy; and the men whose whip he obeyed will be on their way to
surrender by this time. ... Well! Haven't you a word?"

"Many," said Siward slowly; "too many to utter, but not enough to
express what I feel. If you will take two on account, here they are in
one phrase: thank you."

"Debt's cancelled," said Plank, laughing. "Do you want to hear the
details?"

They talked for an hour, and, in the telling, even Plank's stolidity
gave way sufficient to make his heavy voice ring at moments, and the
glimmer of excitement edge his eyes. Yet, in the telling, he scarcely
mentioned himself, never hinted of the personal part--the inspiration
which was his alone; the brunt of the battle which centred in him; the
tireless vigilance; the loneliness of the nights when he lay awake,
perplexed with doubt and nobody to counsel him--because men who wage
such wars are lonely men and must work out their own salvation. No,
nobody but his peers could advise him; and he had thought that his enemy
was his peer, until that enemy surrendered.

The narrative exchanged by Plank in return for Siward's intensely
interested questions was a simple, limpid review of a short but terrific
campaign that only yesterday had threatened to rage through court
after court, year after year. In the sudden shock of the cessation from
battle, Plank himself was a little dazed. Yet he himself had expected
the treason that ended all; he himself had foreseen it. He h