of
that."

"I don't think Ascalon will go out that way--not if we can keep the
county seat," Judge Thayer said. "If you were to step into the breach
while that killer's away and rub even one little white spot in the
town----"

Morgan seemed to interpose in the manner of throwing out his hand, a
gesture speaking of the fatuity and his unwillingness to set himself to
the task.

"Not just temporarily, we don't mean just temporarily, Mr. Morgan, but
for good," Rhetta urged. "I want to take over editing the paper and be
of some use in the world, but I couldn't think of doing it with all this
killing going on, and a lot of wild men shooting out windows and
everything that way."

"No, of course you couldn't," Morgan agreed.

"The railroad immigration agent has been trying to locate a colony of
Mennonites here," Judge Thayer said, "fifty families or more of them,
but the notoriety of the town made the elders skittish. They were out
here this spring, liked the country, saw its future with eyes that
revealed like telescopes, and would have bought ten sections of land to
begin with if it hadn't been for two or three killings while they were
here."

"It was the same way with those people from Pennsylvania," said Rhetta.

"We had a crowd of Pennsylvania Dutch out here a week or two after the
Mennonites," the judge enlarged, "smellin' around hot-foot on the trail
as hounds, but this atmosphere of Ascalon and its bad influence on the
country wouldn't be good for their young folks, they said. So _they_
backed off. And that's the way it's gone, that's the way it will go. The
blight of Ascalon falls over this country for fifty miles around, the
finest country the Almighty ever scattered grass seed over.

"You saw the possibilities of it from a distance, Mr. Morgan; others
have seen it. Wouldn't you be doing humanity a larger service, a more
immediate and applicable service, by clearing away the pest spot, curing
the repulsive infection that keeps them away from its benefits and
rewards, than by plowing up eighty acres and putting in a crop of wheat?
A man's got to trample down his bed-ground, as I've said already,
Morgan, before he can spread his blankets sometimes. This is one of the
places, this is one of the times."

Morgan thought it over, hands on his thighs, head bent a little, eyes on
his boots, conscious that the girl was watching him anxiously, as one on
trial at the bar watches a doubtful jury when counsel makes the