on. "But only after the fight of your
life, Cargan."

"I'm ready for it," cried Cargan. "I ain't down and out yet. But to
think--a woman--a little bit of a girl I could have put in my
pocket--it's all a big joke. I'll beat them--I'll show them--the game's
far from played out--I'll win--and--if--I--don't--"

He crumbled suddenly into his seat, his eyes on that unpleasant line
about "Prison Stripes for the Mayor". For an instant it seemed as though
his fight was irrevocably lost, and he knew it. Lines of age appeared to
creep from out the fat folds of his face, and stand mockingly there. He
looked a beaten man.

"If I don't," he stammered pitifully, "well, they sent him to an island
at the end. The reformers got Napoleon at the last. I won't be alone in
that."

At this unexpected sight of weakness in his hero, Mr. Max set up a
renewed babble of fear at his side. The train was in the Reuton suburbs
now. At a neat little station it slowed down to a stop, and a florid
policeman entered the smoking-car. Cargan looked up.

"Hello, Dan," he said. His voice was lifeless; the old-time ring was
gone.

The policeman removed his helmet and shifted it nervously.

"I thought I'd tell you, Mr. Cargan," he said "I thought I'd warn you.
You'd better get off here. There's a big crowd in the station at Reuton.
They're waiting for you, sir; they've heard you're on this train. This
lying newspaper, Mr. Cargan, it's been telling tales--I guess you know
about that. There's a big mob. You better get off here, sir, and go
down-town on a car."

If the mighty Cargan had looked limp and beaten for a moment he looked
that way no more. He stood up, and his head seemed almost to touch the
roof of the car. Over that big patrolman he towered; his eyes were cold
and hard again; his lips curved in the smile of the master.

"And why," he bellowed, "should I get off here? Tell me that, Dan."

"Well, sir," replied the embarrassed copper, "they're ugly. There's no
telling what they might do. It's a bad mob--this newspaper has stirred
'em up."

"Ugly, are they?" sneered Cargan. "Ever seen the bunch I would go put of
my way for, Dan?"

"I meant it all right, sir," said Dan. "As a friend to a man who's been
a friend to me. No, I never saw you afraid of any bunch yet, but this--"

"This," replied Cargan, "is the same old bunch. The same lily-livered
crowd that I've seen in the streets since I laid the first paving stone
under 'em myself in '91. A