public's throat on the very next
page by advertising it with a pugilist's big toe, I'd do it--you bet!
I'd take a leaf out of the Devil's note book and go him one better!
You ask whether I'd publish a yellow journal? Miss MacDonald, if I
could get the facts of exactly what is going on in this country before
the public, I wouldn't publish 'em yellow! I'd publish truth bloody
red!"

When the Williams and Matthews came in from the missionary meeting,
Eleanor was standing under the centre light leaning against the table
with her back to the door.

"Feeling better, dear?" asked Mrs. Williams.

"So much better that I'm going to bed to sleep every minute for the
first night for a week."

"Surely," cried Williams clapping his hands. "A MacDonald never had
nerves."

Matthews was trying to read her face as she shook hands saying
good-night.

"No," she answered his look, shaking her head, "I must decide for
myself, Mr. Matthews."

The three stood talking in the room she had left.

"Do you think we ought to have told her?" asked Mrs. Williams
solicitously.

"No! Leave Wayland t' tell her himself t'morrow! A make no doubt that
buckboard won't hold five people! Is it six o'clock we set out? A'm
longin' for m' own wee uns!"

"One thing," declared Williams, throwing himself on a chair, "if
Wayland runs, I'm going to stump it for him! We've got to get busy,
Matthews! The old order changeth! We've got to keep up with the
procession!"

If you had not known her utter conservatism as to all things pertaining
to women, you could not appreciate the response of the missionary's
wife. (She was an ultra-anti-suffragette.)

"I am sure, my dear," she cried, "I know a couple of hundred people on
our summer circuit in the Upper Pass that I could make vote right."

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE UNITED STATES OF THE WORLD

"Wayland, for a man who's had his head cut off, you look uncommon
joyous, tho' you're a bit white about the chops."

"Had a shave," answered Wayland dryly.

The yellow buckboard was rattling over the pressed brick pavement of
Smelter City towards the suburbs. Williams was in the front seat with
Matthews, who was driving. Eleanor and Mrs. Williams were in the
second seat, with Wayland standing behind as he had stood that night
going up to the Rim Rocks. Behind trotted two range ponies with empty
saddles.

"I thought, perhaps, you'd prefer driving out beyond the suburbs," he
had explained. "Ther