"He's a good blower," stated Colonel Wincott. "He blew all the props out from under the man Britt. Solidly grounded on texts, Elias is! Vaniman, a brand-new scheme needs a resourceful operator." He patted the top of his head. "Pardon me for flattering myself. I invented the system and the Prophet played it."

Then Colonel Wincott leaned back, stuck his thumbs into the armholes of his vest, and rocked on the hind legs of the chair. "I played a hunch,"

he went on. "I was going through Scollay Square in Boston one evening and I heard a street evangelist holding forth. He was preaching on the subject, 'Bondage.' Sin he called Pharaoh. And he was hammering the hearers with texts from Exodus. The idea hit me. I hung up beside the curb till he was through preaching, then I invited him to take a ride with me in my car. And a wise old bird I found him to be! No hypocrite!

Doing his best to help his fellow-men, but always hep! Never out of a city till I pulled him up here. Likes the country now. Going to be the regular preacher in my new town. No more robe-and-umbrella business, of course. That was my idea. I'm inclined to be a little circusy in my notions. He stood for it. The scheme helped him to put over what he couldn't have got away with by ordinary means."

Vaniman remembered those flashes of worldly wisdom in the Prophet, and was enlightened. His countenance revealed his thoughts.

"Had you guessing?" demanded the colonel. "Nothing like starting folks to guessing. Keeps up the interest. One by one Elias snipped the cords that bound the folks to the soil of this place. Did a fine job. They're going to thrive after they are transplanted. Even Squire Hexter is going to bring up the rear guard, after he has finished here with the loose ends of the law needed in the case."

"It's to be a clean sweep, Frank," the Squire affirmed. "Even Usial and his press; the new town will be in his legislative cla.s.s." Then he looked long at Colonel Wincott, who was rocking on the legs of his chair.

"I know mighty well what you want to say to me, Squire Hexter," stated the object of the regard. "You don't need to say a word, though. I'll do the saying. Vaniman, you have had a raw deal. But you'll soon be through the woods. I'm going to have a bank in my new town. You're going to be the boss of it."

"Just a moment before you say anything, Frank," expostulated the Squire when Vaniman, choking with doubts and grat.i.tude both, attempted to speak. "I propose to start at once for the shire town. I'll begin with the county attorney. I'll have your name cleared inside of twenty-four hours."

"And don't bother with any Dobbins for that job," declared the colonel.

"Use my car. My chauffeur is hiding it in the bush a little ways from here. And now, Vaniman, give me all your attention," he went on, with the pride of a successful performer. "I'll tell you what's going to happen over across the line in my town. It's going to interest you. You have been a man of affairs and you can grasp what I'm saying."

But Vaniman did not seem to be grasping even that introduction of the subject. He had heard hurrying footsteps outside the house.

"You'll never listen to anything that will stir your blood like what I'm going to tell you of my plans for the future," insisted the colonel.

But a tremulous voice called: "Frank! Frank!"

Vaniman leaped from his chair and turned his back on the man who proposed to stir the blood of the listener.

Squire Hexter hurried to Colonel Wincott and whispered information which caused the master of The Promised Land to elevate his eyebrows understandingly.

"Great Caesar! Why, sure!" he blurted, and popped up out of his chair.

Following the Squire, he tiptoed to the door and stood on one side when the notary opened and peeped out.

"Vona!" called the Squire, gently. "The boy is in here. Come!"

She ran past them into the room.

Colonel Wincott ducked out and the Squire followed and closed the door.

He closed it slowly, softly, reverently, and then turned a smiling face of compa.s.sionate understanding toward Xoa and the colonel.

CHAPTER x.x.xI

THROUGH THE GATES OF THE DAWN INTO "LIBERTY"

There was a hush in the Squire's house. The three who were in the sitting room discussed affairs, subduing their tones almost to whispers.

When somebody tramped on to the porch and pounded on the door, the interruption was startling.

The Squire went and opened the door and disclosed Deputy-Warden Bangs of the state prison. But when Bangs made a step forward the notary bulked himself in the doorway with all the dignity his modest size would permit.

"I'm led to believe that you have in this house an escaped convict, name of Vaniman," declared the officer.

"Don't your prison records show that the convict named Vaniman is officially dead, sir?"

"I'll admit that; but if what I have heard since I was routed out of my bed is so, those records will have to be revised."

"I have no control over your records," returned the Squire, grimly.

Mr. Bangs made another step forward.

"But I have full control over my own house, sir. You cannot come in."

"Do you stand in the way of a deputy warden of the state prison?"

"I certainly do until he presents himself in my door with a proper search warrant, instead of coming here on the strength of mere hearsay."

"I tried to get a warrant," the officer confessed. "But I can't locate the trial justice."

"I hear that he is moving," was the Squire's dry retort.

"You seem to be the only one in the place who isn't moving," said Bangs, craning his neck to peer past the keeper of the door.

"Oh, I'm simply delaying my departure a few days in order to close up some matters of business."

"Let me tell you that if you're concealing a convict in this house you'll have more business than what you plan on. I'm up here--"

"As you have reported to me and all others, you're up here to find two escaped prisoners, sir. Very well! They are not in my house. But I have heard from them. They were seen a very short time ago in the stretch of woods near here known as Baniman's Bower. If you hurry you may catch them."

Bangs displayed prompt interest. He showed more when the Squire added: "They may be already captured. I learned, also, that a man who has been a prison guard was in the same locality. You officials seem to be very vigilant!"

Mr. Bangs choked back some sort of a threatened explosion. He stood there, shifting from foot to foot. Then he blurted: "Say, you seem to be the most level-headed man in this town. I'll go chase those convicts if your tip is a straight one. But tell me! Am I having the nightmare, or are all these things really happening around here?"

However, Squire Hexter did not try to comfort the perturbed Mr. Bangs just then. The notary stepped out on the porch, closing his door behind him. He stared into the graying murk of the night and the fog. That fog was showing a light which was not that of the dawn. It was a spreading, baleful, reddening glare, and after a few moments it covered all the sky.

Then men began to shout. There was an especial uproar from one quarter.

The Squire knew that in the direction of the hullabaloos were located the camps in which were lodged the imported workmen who had wrought into solid structure the plans of the mansion that Britt had held in pictured form before the eyes of Egypt.

The feet of running men pounded along the highway. Somebody cried, in clarion tones, "It's Tasp Britt's new house!"

The Squire ran into the road, and Bangs followed.

The notary hailed a little group of men who came rushing from the direction of the main part of the village. "Why aren't you bringing the tub? Fetch Hecla! Quick, men!"

"She's gone!" panted one of the group.

"Gone?"

"There wasn't any wagon left behind, Squire, and they had to haul that gold. They hove it into Hecly's water tank and formed a guard, and she's been a whole half hour gone!"