th the words, he stooped down and from under his seat dragged forth a
great package of extra editions of the "Bonneville Mercury," not an hour
off the presses. Other equally large bundles of the paper appeared in
the hands of the surrounding group. The strings were cut and in handfuls
and armfuls the papers were flung out over the heads of the audience
underneath. The air was full of the flutter of the newly printed sheets.
They swarmed over the rim of the gallery like clouds of monstrous,
winged insects, settled upon the heads and into the hands of the
audience, were passed swiftly from man to man, and within five minutes
of the first outbreak every one in the Opera House had read Genslinger's
detailed and substantiated account of Magnus Derrick's "deal" with the
political bosses of the Sacramento convention.

Genslinger, after pocketing the Governor's hush money, had "sold him
out."

Keast, one quiver of indignation, made his way back upon the stage. The
Leaguers were in wild confusion. Half the assembly of them were on their
feet, bewildered, shouting vaguely. From proscenium wall to foyer, the
Opera House was a tumult of noise. The gleam of the thousands of the
"Mercury" extras was like the flash of white caps on a troubled sea.

Keast faced the audience.

"Liars," he shouted, striving with all the power of his voice to
dominate the clamour, "liars and slanderers. Your paper is the paid
organ of the corporation. You have not one shadow of proof to back you
up. Do you choose this, of all times, to heap your calumny upon the head
of an honourable gentleman, already prostrated by your murder of his
son? Proofs--we demand your proofs!"

"We've got the very assemblymen themselves," came back the answering
shout. "Let Derrick speak. Where is he hiding? If this is a lie, let him
deny it. Let HIM DISPROVE the charge." "Derrick, Derrick," thundered the
Opera House.

Keast wheeled about. Where was Magnus? He was not in sight upon the
stage. He had disappeared. Crowding through the throng of Leaguers,
Keast got from off the stage into the wings. Here the crowd was no less
dense. Nearly every one had a copy of the "Mercury." It was being read
aloud to groups here and there, and once Keast overheard the words,
"Say, I wonder if this is true, after all?"

"Well, and even if it was," cried Keast, turning upon the speaker,
"we should be the last ones to kick. In any case, it was done for our
benefit. It elected the Ranchers