Hilliard's voice rang out, "Anybody who goes
on the other side of that fence _stays_ on the other side!"

The men climbed down. No one said anything. Sam Baker scanned them with
his helpless glance once more. Then he turned slowly. Fifty feet from
the fence he fell in the snow, face down.

Mayor Hilliard spoke slowly and clearly once more. "If anyone so much as
throws a crust of bread over that fence the guard has orders to shoot."

As if frozen, the onlookers remained immobile. The guard held his fixed
stance. Mayor Hilliard stood, feet apart, his hands in his pockets,
staring defiantly. On the other side of the fence, the thick flakes of
snow were rapidly covering the inert form of Sam Baker. In only a few
moments he would be obliterated from their sight. That would be the
signal for them all to turn and go home, Ken thought.

Impulsively, he took a step forward. He looked at his father's face.
"Dad..."

Professor Maddox touched Ken's arm with a restraining hand. His face was
grim and churned by conflicting desires.

The utter stillness was broken then by the crunching sound of boots in
the snow. All eyes turned to the powerful, white-maned figure that
approached. Dr. Aylesworth was hatless and the snow was thick in his
hair. He paused a moment, comprehending the situation. Then he strode
forward to the fence.

He put a foot on the wire, and climbed. His coat caught on the barbs as
he jumped to the other side. He ripped it free, ignoring the tear of the
fabric.

Mayor Hilliard watched as if hypnotized. He jerked himself, finally, out
of his immobility. "Parson!" he cried. "Come back here!"

Dr. Aylesworth ignored the command. He strode forward with unwavering
steps.

"It's no different with you than it is with any other man," Hilliard
shouted. He took the gun from the guard. "You're breaking the law. If
you don't stop I'll shoot!"

The majestic figure of the minister turned. He faced Hilliard without
hesitation. "Shoot," he said. He turned back and moved once more to the
fallen druggist.

There was sweat on Mayor Hilliard's face now. He brushed it with a
gloved hand. His hat fell unnoticed to the ground. He raised the gun no
higher. "Aylesworth," he called, and his voice was pleading now, "we've
got to do what's right!"

The minister's voice came back to him, hollowly, as if from an immense
distance. "Yes, we've got to do what's right." Dr. Aylesworth could be
seen faintly through the veil of snow as