ly the words of the manager
of a lecture bureau troubled him for a moment. To range the entire
nation, telling all his countrymen of the drama that was working itself
out on this fringe of the continent, this ignored and distant Pacific
Coast, rousing their interest and stirring them up to action--appealed
to him. It might do great good. To devote himself to "the Cause,"
accepting no penny of remuneration; to give his life to loosing the grip
of the iron-hearted monster of steel and steam would be beyond question
heroic. Other States than California had their grievances. All over the
country the family of cyclops was growing. He would declare himself the
champion of the People in their opposition to the Trust. He would be an
apostle, a prophet, a martyr of Freedom.

But Presley was essentially a dreamer, not a man of affairs. He
hesitated to act at this precise psychological moment, striking while
the iron was yet hot, and while he hesitated, other affairs near at hand
began to absorb his attention.

One night, about an hour after he had gone to bed, he was awakened by
the sound of voices on the porch of the ranch house, and, descending,
found Mrs. Dyke there with Sidney. The ex-engineer's mother was talking
to Magnus and Harran, and crying as she talked. It seemed that Dyke was
missing. He had gone into town early that afternoon with the wagon and
team, and was to have been home for supper. By now it was ten o'clock
and there was no news of him. Mrs. Dyke told how she first had gone
to Quien Sabe, intending to telephone from there to Bonneville, but
Annixter was in San Francisco, and in his absence the house was
locked up, and the over-seer, who had a duplicate key, was himself
in Bonneville. She had telegraphed three times from Guadalajara to
Bonneville for news of her son, but without result. Then, at last,
tortured with anxiety, she had gone to Hooven's, taking Sidney with her,
and had prevailed upon "Bismarck" to hitch up and drive her across Los
Muertos to the Governor's, to beg him to telephone into Bonneville, to
know what had become of Dyke.

While Harran rang up Central in town, Mrs. Dyke told Presley and Magnus
of the lamentable change in Dyke.

"They have broken my son's spirit, Mr. Derrick," she said. "If you were
only there to see. Hour after hour, he sits on the porch with his hands
lying open in his lap, looking at them without a word. He won't look
me in the face any more, and he don't sleep. Night