"You loose them quick," she cried again, "or I'll kill you.

"Them fellows is skeered you'll hurt them, Sol. Tell them Solly you won't touch 'em,--will you, Solly?"

Sol shook his head.

Phil came forward to do the needful. At the same instant, Royce Pederstone's good sense took in the situation better than Brenchfield's dogged mind could.

"Guess we might take a chance, Graham!" he said quietly.

"You ain't takin' any chances with my Solly. Give me a knife and beat it, both of you. I ain't skeered o' my man."

The Mayor opened his jack-knife and handed it to Betty. He and Royce Pederstone went into the yard together. Phil stood watching by the barn door.

Shortly afterwards, Sol came out, his big hand clasped over Betty's little one. He looked away from the men in the yard, shame-facedly, but Betty's eyes shone defiance and her head kept up, and the two lovers walked on to the highway and along in the direction of their own home.

"Well I'll be darned!" exclaimed Pederstone. "It takes a woman every time to know how to handle a man."

Brenchfield scoffingly curled his lip.

"Coming my way, Graham?"

"Not yet awhile," said the Mayor; "I want to see Ralston here about a little matter that's been on my mind for a while."

Phil was already back working on the furnace bellows and stirring his irons in the red-hot coals.

Mayor Brenchfield came over to him, his fat but handsome face leering a little under his bushy eyebrows.

"So, Philly,--you're still earning your daily bread by the sweat of your blooming brow!"

The young man looked his tormentor over contemptuously, and continued his work without comment.

"Gee, but some men are d.a.m.ned fools though!" continued the other.

"And some are d.a.m.ned curs," answered Phil.

Brenchfield bit his lip, then grinned.

"Say, Phil!--I'm sorry for all I did. Honest, I am. I want you to forget the past and forgive me. I treated you, as you say, like a cur.

I'm willing to make amends and do the right thing by you as far as that is humanly possible. You and I were brought up together, Phil.

That should count some."

"It should," agreed Phil, in a non-committal way, wondering what was behind this change of front on the part of Brenchfield.

"I am willing to have my holdings appraised and to make you a present of one half."

"You mean you are willing to let me have the half that belongs to me?"

"If you care to put it that way,--yes!"

"Half of the proceeds of your theft?"

"Oh, forget that! Can't you have a little sense, if only in your own interests?"

Phil smiled.

"I was always a bit of a fool, Brenchfield, where my own interests were concerned. But I am gaining wisdom as I go along."

"Then, in heaven's name, take this chance when it is offered you. No man can do more than I am willing to do now. You won't have to work another stroke in your life."

Phil's eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Gee,--but that _would_ be a pleasant prospect,--I don't think!"

Brenchfield held out his hand. "Is it a go?"

Phil was almost convinced by the sincere ring in Brenchfield's voice.

He glanced into the latter's face, but the Mayor's eyes failed to play up to the sound he had put into his voice.

"Do you honestly mean all you say?" asked Phil.

"Every word of it!"

"Well,--since you have raised the white flag, here are my terms:--

"I don't want a cent of your money. Sell out and turn every nickel you have over to somebody or some inst.i.tution that needs it. Come with me before a magistrate and make an honest confession, and take your chance of a new start, like a man would do. I'll shake hands then and call it quits, but not until."

The Mayor glared at Phil as if he considered the latter had suddenly become bereft of his reason.

"Oh, pshaw!" he exclaimed in disgust, turning on his heel, "no use bargaining with a lunatic."

"Wait a bit!" cried Phil. "If I accept all you offer, what do you want in return?"

"Nothing!--nothing but that little piece of paper I was fool enough to leave lying about a few years ago."

"In other words,--your price is the proof of my innocence and your own guilt."

"The question of innocence and guilt has been settled between you and me long ago. You paid the price;--why not take your share of the proceeds?"

Phil shook his head.

"No!" blurted Brenchfield angrily, "but you prefer to use the cipher note for blackmail and to satisfy your own dirty designs for revenge when your own time comes."

Phil pointed to the door.

"Get out!--and don't bring up this subject to me again. I am sick of it--and you."

Suddenly the Mayor laughed in relief, and he snapped his thumb and forefinger under Phil's nose.

"Go to it! Do your worst!" he exclaimed. "I've found out all I wanted to find. You are an arrant bluffer, Phil Ralston, but you're not quite smart enough. You haven't got that note. d.a.m.n you!--you never had it for longer time than it took you that morning to burn it.