"Carried," she cried.

Then she turned upon her secretary without the least sympathy or kindliness in her manner.

"You'll enter that resolution in the minutes of the meeting," she snapped.

Some half-hour later the quorum dissolved itself and trickled out of the oppressive precincts of Mrs. John Day's highly polished parlor.

The trickling process only lasted until the front door was gained.

Then came a rush which had neither dignity nor politeness in it.

The two men set off for the saloon without attempting to disguise their purpose. The women hastily tripped off in the various directions whither they knew their favorite gossips would be found. Even Kate Seton failed to wait to exchange her usual few final words with the president. Truth to tell, she was both disgusted and depressed, and felt that somehow she had made a mess of things. She felt that she had contrived to turn an unimportant matter into something of the first magnitude. The question of felling the old pine had merely been one of those subjects for bickering between Billy and Allan Dy, who had never been known to agree on any subject, and now, through bringing their dispute before the committee, she knew that she had changed it into a question upon which the whole village would take sides. She only trusted that superst.i.tion would prevail, and the aged landmark would be left standing. She somehow felt doubtful, however, now that Mrs. Day had taken sides against her, and she hurried off to avoid further discussion.

Billy Unguin arrived at the saloon alone. Allan Dy's course was diverted when he came within sight of his post office. As he reached the main trail of the village, he saw Inspector Fyles and Sergeant McBain riding down from the west, and the sight of them reminded him of his mail. So, leaving his friend to continue his way to the saloon alone, he went on to his little office, arriving in time to take down a telegraphic message from Amberley, and hand it, with his mail, to the police officer.

He rubbed his hands delightedly as he read the message over to himself a second time before placing it in its envelope. It was from the police headquarters, and its wording was full of significance in the light of last night's events. Allan Dy was glad he had not gone on to the saloon.

The message was desperately curt.

"Wagon returned to Fort Allerton empty. Report. Jason."

The postmaster had just placed the message with the officers' mail when the two policemen entered. Fyles's expression was morose, and his manner repellent. McBain was grim and silent.

"There's a goodish mail, Mr. Fyles," said Dy, without a trace of his real feelings, as he held out the bulky packet of letters. "That message has just come along over the wire." He pointed at the tinted envelope enclosing the telegram.

While Fyles took his mail, McBain's keen eyes were at work upon the letters spread out on the counter.

Fyles's silent manner induced the curious official to go a step further.

"It's from headquarters--Superintendent Jason," he said, covertly watching the policeman's face.

But the effect was not quite as satisfactory as he hoped. Fyles smiled.

"Thanks. I was expecting it."

Then he turned away, and, followed by McBain, pa.s.sed out of the building.

Once outside, however, it was quite another matter. The officer tore open the message and glanced at its contents. Then he pa.s.sed it on to McBain with a brief comment.

"They're wise," he said. "Guess the band's going to start playing--right away."

McBain read the message. "We're up against it, sir," was his dry comment.

"Up against it, man?" Fyles cried, with sudden heat. "I tell you that's very nearly our sentence. We've failed--failed, do you understand? And it's not our first failure. Do you need me to tell you anything? We may just as well stand right here and cut off the badges of our various ranks. That's what we may as well do," he added bitterly. "There's no mercy in Jason, and devilish little reason."

But the Scot seemed to have very little sympathy for the other's feelings. He seemed to care less for his rank than something else, and, in his next words, the real man shone out.

"I don't care a curse for my rank, sir," he exclaimed. "We've been bluffed and beaten like two babes in the game our lives are spent in playing. That's what hurts me. Have you seen 'em, sir? All the way along as we came down here just now. We pa.s.sed five or six women at the doors of their miserable shacks, and they smiled as they saw us.

We pa.s.sed four men, and their greeting was maddening in its jeer. Even the d.a.m.ned kids looked up and grinned like the apes they are. They've bluffed and beaten us, and I--hate 'em all."

For some moments Stanley Fyles made no answer. He was gazing out down the village trail, and his eyes were on a small group of people standing some way off talking together. He had recognized them. They were Kate and Helen Seton, and with them was young Bryant, the ingenuous brother of Charlie. He guessed, as well he might, the subject of their talk. His failure. Was not everybody talking of it?

And were not most of them, probably all of them, rejoicing? His bitterness grew, and at last he turned on his subordinate.

"Bluffed, but not beaten," he said, with a fierce oath which did the Scot's heart good. "We're not beaten," he reiterated, "if only Jason will leave us alone, and trust us further. I've got to convince him.

I've got to tell him all that's happened, and I've got to persuade him to leave us here. We've got to go on. He can recommend my resignation, he can do what he d.a.m.n well pleases, so long as he leaves me here to finish this work. I tell you, I've got to break up this gang of hoodlums."

McBain's eyes glittered.

"That's how I feel, sir."

"Feel? We've just got to do it--or clear out of the country. Man, I'd give a thousand dollars to know how they got possession of our signals. Those shots, that bluffed us, were fired by some of the gang.

How did they learn it? It's been done by spying, but--say, get on back to camp, and prepare the report of last night. Hold it up for me, and I'll enclose a private letter to Mr. Jason. I'll be along later."

McBain nodded.

"You fix it, sir, so we don't get transferred back. We need another chance badly. Maybe they won't bluff us next time."

He swung himself into the saddle and rode away, while Fyles, linking his arm through the faithful Peter's reins, strolled leisurely on down the track toward the group which included Kate Seton.

As he drew near they ceased talking, and watched his approach. Their att.i.tude was such that Fyles could not refrain from a half-bitter, half-laughing comment as he came up.

"It doesn't take much guessing to locate the subject of your talk, Miss Kate," he cried.

Kate's dark eyes had no smile in them as she replied to his challenge.

"How's that?" she inquired, while Bill and Helen watched his face.

Fyles shrugged.

"You stopped talking when you saw I was coming your way." He laughed.

"However, I guess it's only to be expected. The boys bluffed us all right last night. It was a smartish trick. Still," he added thoughtfully, "it's given us an elegant lever--when the time comes."

Kate made no answer. She was studying the man's face, and there was a certain regret and even pity in the depths of her regard. Bill and Helen had no such feelings for him. They were frankly rejoiced at his failure.

Helen replied. "That's so, Mr. Fyles," she said, almost tartly, "but I guess that lever needs to help them into your traps to do any real good."

The officer's smile was quite good-humored, in spite of the sharpness of the girl's reminder. What he really felt he was not likely to display here.

"Sure," he said. "The spider weaves his web and it's not worth a cent if the flies aren't foolish enough to make mistakes. The spider is a student of winged insect nature, and he lays his plans accordingly.

The flies always come to him--in the end."

Bill laughed good-humoredly.

"That's dandy," he cried. "There's always fool flies around. But sometimes that spider's web gets all mussed up and broken. I've broke 'em myself--rather than see the fool things caught."

Kate's eyes were turned on the great bulk of Charlie's brother. Even Helen looked up with bright admiration for her lover.

Fyles's gaze was leveled directly into the innocent looking blue eyes laughing into his.