acDonald! Forgive me," he
pleaded. "I had no right. I have no right to anything till I have
cleaned up this damnable hell-work. I must not leave duty till I have
fought this thing out; and I must not drag you in; but I wanted--" he
paused; "I couldn't help it."

She trembled, but she took refuge in neither the subterfuge nor the
pretence of the Eastern woman.

"It was yours," she said.

Wayland's eyes flashed their gratitude. "It's so God-blessed
beautiful, Eleanor; it's so wonderfully beautiful I mustn't spoil it
with my man hands! I couldn't believe it true without the memory
you've given me; but you must keep me in line! Now that I have that
memory in my heart I'll drink it, and hike for the firing line! My
place isn't here; you must never let me break my resolution again."

"I never will," interrupted Eleanor.

"We've got to fight this thing to the last ditch! If the innocent may
be done to death by our law makers; if murder can be planned and
carried out unpunished; there's an end to our democracy! Last year it
was a little school teacher strangled down in the Desert; nobody
punished, because that would have interfered with a voting gang on
election day. This year, it's Fordie. _If these crimes had been
committed under a monarchy, the people would have tanned the hide of
the king into boot leather_! Last year it was the little school
teacher. This year it's Fordie. Tomorrow, it may be any man, woman or
child in the Valley. If they'd keep their crimes among their own kind,
there would be some excuse for this let-alone policy; but when freedom
to do what a man likes means freedom to push crime into your life and
mine, freedom to deprive others of freedom, it's time the Nation jumped
on somebody! We've got to fight this damnable thing to the last ditch,
Eleanor!"

"Good luck and God speed," she said without looking up; and she turned
without once looking back, and walked up the slab steps of the rustic
entrance to the ranch house.

CHAPTER IX

RIGHT INTO MIGHT

Don't wait for Mr. Matthews and me. We are setting out on the Long
Trail. It is the Long Trail this Nation will have to travel before
Democracy arrives. It is the Trail of the Man behind the Thing; and
we'll not quit till we get him. You remember what our old visitor said
about "splitting the air to get somewhere." We are going to quit
"sawing the air" and "split it to get somewhere." We are going to set
out after the M