imposing than any your bonds would have built; and as for roads—you may build them with your hands, you blackguards!"
The epithet popped from his lips and he moved forward. This brought him in line with the window and from the poolroom he saw Jim Harris emerge, hat back, face red with laughter.
"We understand one another," he said, halting. "I came on an errand of justice. I am leaving now. If Chief Pontiac wants to bear its equitable share of taxation for the fruits that it will enjoy, I have no argument. Chief Pontiac Power does not want to be fair, gentlemen. You've put yourself in the hands of rascals. Vote these resolutions this afternoon that mean the ruin of Foraker's Folly—and," he gave the notebook just the suggestion of a brandish.
"Otherwise, the matter of the value of your pieces of silver—may wait."
He went from the room with no further word and his feet echoed on the light boards of the stairway as he descended. Until he was gone from the building, no man stirred.
"Here comes Jim," rasped Art Billings.
"I move we adjourn!" This in a whisper from Sim Burns.
"You can't adjourn; we ain't been called to order," mumbled Hubbard.
"To hell with that!" cried Sim. "He's got it on us, th' old basterd! Do you all want to rot in jail? Clear out before Harris gets here or you'll be hoppin' from the fryin' pan into th' coals!"
They went with a thundering of feet down the stairway and scattered in the dusty thoroughfare of Pancake.
