nt over his political economists again, and realized sadly that men
had always disputed these points, and that each writer or prophet was
sure his was the only creed that would ever save the world, while by
following any other they would surely go to ruin.

Winston and he took counsel together: then they called in Cameron, who
looked blue enough.

"Any ordinary factory would shut down for the winter," said Winston
ruefully; "but that would be to confess our scheme a failure. We are
piling up goods--but for what--a grand auction-sale by and by? And the
men have worked so cheerfully--no, we can't give up."

"Giving up is out of the question at present," Jack answered solemnly,
as if he was passing his word at the bar. "Our balance at the bank has
been expended, and we have some notes out that must be cared for in a
month's time. Wages are falling, and it seems to look now as if we were
coming back to the era of cheap living. The bargain was the ruling rate
of wages, you know. I think they will have to come down."

"I will not give up beaten," declared Winston. "I'll have one more try.
Keep up heart, shipmate."

With that Winston started West again. He talked, he plead, he offered
for the mere cost of production,--just to get the money back would be
something. The coal-venture of this winter had been much larger, though
coal was declining, and the profit somewhat less. Everybody pared the
margin to the mere skin. Winston had a little luck, however. Two sales
of some note were effected, and a barter, that only a man with a shrewd
eye for bargains, and a glib tongue, could have managed. Flour, apples,
and potatoes were the stock this time. The workmen took them gladly, at
a little less than store prices. They knew how full the wareroom kept
all the time.

The first of January, wages were lowered. There was a little grumbling
among some of the men, but the women took it in wiser part. The
half-loaf was much better than no bread at all. They remembered the
dismal year when there had been no employment, and stinted food
purchased on credit. One wouldn't starve with flour and potatoes, nor
freeze with a full coal-bin.

Hope Mills had exhausted every source,--had even paid a horrible
discount, being hard run,--when Darcy wrote to Miss McLeod a true
statement of affairs. If they could hold out until spring, times might
be better. They were economizing as they never had before: yet the time
had come when disaster really sta