he crowded room, as if the people
were dazed at his assurance. There was no applause, until Jennie Woodruff,
now seen by Jim for the first time over next the blackboard, clapped her
gloved hands together and started it; then it swept out through the
windows in a storm. The dust rose from stamping feet until the kerosene
lamps were dimmed by it. And as the noise subsided, Jim saw standing out
in front the stooped form of B. B. Hamm, one of the most prosperous men in
the district.

"Mr. Chairman--Ezra Bronson," he roared, "this feller's crazy, an' from
the sound of things, you're all as crazy as he is. If this fool scheme of
his goes through, my farm's for sale! I'll quit before I'm sold out for
taxes!"

"Just a minute, B. B.!" interposed Colonel Woodruff. "This ain't as
dangerous as you think. You don't want us to do all this in fifteen
minutes, do you, Jim?"

"Oh, as to that," replied Jim, "I just wanted you to have in your minds
what I have in my mind--and unless we can agree to work toward these
things there's no use in my staying. But time--that's another matter.
Believe with me, and I'll work with you."

"Get out of here!" said the colonel to Jim in an undertone, "and leave the
rest to your friends."

Jim walked out of the room and took the way toward his home. A horse tied
to the hitching-pole had his blanket under foot, and Jim replaced it on
his back, patting him kindly and talking horse language to him. Then he
went up and down the line of teams, readjusting blankets, tying loosened
knots, and assuring himself that his neighbors' horses were securely tied
and comfortable. He knew horses better than he knew people, he thought. If
he could manage people as he could manage horses--but that would be wrong.
The horse did his work as a servant, submissive to the wills of others;
the community could never develop anything worth while in its common life,
until it worked the system out for itself. Horse management was despotism;
man-government must be like the government of a society of wild horses,
the result of the common work of the members of the herd.

Two figures emerged from the schoolhouse door, and as he turned toward his
home after his pastoral calls on the horses, they overtook him. They were
the figures of Newton Bronson and the county superintendent of schools.

"We were coming after you," said Jennie.

"Dad wants you back there again," said Newton.

"What for?" inquired Jim.

"You silly boy," sa