dvantage of this interruption, but I am confident that
long after you and I have passed on, steel rails will still be rolled
at the works. Good evening."

Manson muttered something unintelligible, and moved off down the long
hill that led to St. Marys. For the first time in his life he believed
in Clark, believed in him in that hour when the faith of thousands was
being shaken. He had no conception what a pigmy unit he himself was in
the multitude who followed their remarkable leader. He had no grasp of
the fundamentals of which Clark confidently took hold in the time of
stress. He did not wonder who else was in like case with himself. He
only knew that this man had thrown him the end of a rope, and he
grasped at it with all the strength of his soul, and had no intentions
of loosening his hold.

Later that evening he went in to see Filmer, whose office lights were
on, and here found Dibbott and Worden. The three were talking
earnestly, and as the broad figure loomed in the doorway Dibbott gave a
dry laugh.

"Our pessimist's reputation is looking up. Have you come to crow?"

Manson shook his head and told them very briefly of his visit. There
was no mention of his own speculation. "So after all, the thing is
probably all right," he concluded. "At any rate, Clark doesn't seem
worried, so why should we?"

Filmer gave vent to a low whistle. "Hypnotized at last!"

"No," said Manson, flushing, and went on to promulgate the reasons for
his hopes. The others said nothing, but he could see they were
impressed. Presently he went out on a midnight round of inspection,
and, as the door closed behind him, Worden nodded thoughtfully.

"For the first time in seven years he seems reasonable in this
connection. After all, if we get off the handle it will be a mighty
bad example. How about it, Mr. Mayor?"

"Well," said Filmer, caressing his glossy whiskers, "I always believed
in Clark and I guess I do now. If he were trying to make money for
himself out of this thing we'd know it, but he isn't. Gentlemen, the
judge is right--we've got to hold the town together."

On the corner they met Bowers, the Company's solicitor, who was walking
slowly home smoking a peaceful cigar.

"What's this?" he said, grinning. "Looks like old times to see you
three together."

Filmer had a sudden thought. "Do any of you chaps remember what
anniversary this is?"

The others searched their brains and gave it up.

"Seven year