im.
But I'll say it to you: Yes, I am that same man who once did what they
call a fine, brave thing. I didn't do it because it was a great thing,
a brave thing. I did it for you.

"And--I'll do this for you."

He looked again at the face in the picture, as if to make sure. Then
he locked it away quickly in its place.

He thought for a moment, then drew a pad abruptly to him and began
writing. He wrote two telegrams, one to the Governor of the State, the
other to the Sheriff of Tupper County. Then he took another pad and
wrote a note, this to his personal representative who was following
the state troops into the hills.

He rose and walked briskly to the door. Throwing it open he called a
clerk and gave him the two telegrams. He held the note in his hand and
asked the Bishop back into the office.

Closing the door quickly, he said without preface:

"This note will put my man up there at your service. You will prefer
to go up into the hills yourself, I think. The officers in command of
the troops will know that you are empowered to act for all parties.
The Governor will have seen to that before you get there, I think.
There will be no attempt at prosecutions, now or afterwards. You can
settle the whole matter in no time.

"We will not buy the land, but we'll give a fair rental, based on what
ores we find to take out. You can give _your_ word--mine wouldn't go
for much up there, I guess," he put in grimly--"that it will be fair.
You can make that the basis of settlement.

"They can go back and rebuild. I will help, where it will do the most
good. Our operations won't interfere much with their farm land, I
find.

"You will want to start at once. That is all, I guess, Bishop," he
concluded abruptly.

The Bishop reached for the smaller man's hand and wrung it with a
sudden, unwonted emotion.

"I will not cheapen this, sir," he said evenly, "by attempting to
thank you."

"A mere whim of mine, that's all," Stanton cut in almost curtly, the
steel-trap expression snapping into place over his face. "A mere
whim."

"Well," said the Bishop slowly, looking him squarely in the eyes, "I
only came to ask a question, anyhow." Then he turned and walked
briskly from the office. He had no right and no wish to know what the
other man chose to conceal beneath that curt and incisive manner.

So these two men parted. In words, they had not understood each other.
Neither had come near the depths of the other. But then, what m