justice forms a resolve. His heart and mind have
a common impulse--Purdy's body must be saved from desecration; it must
be buried with that of Metz.

"Pick up that body," he orders of the men who surround him. "It must be
buried with Metz."

In his voice there is a ring of command that none dares to question. As
the miners stoop to lift the corpse Ethel utters a cry of anguish that
pierces the hearts of even the most hardened men. It is the wail of
humanity protesting against anarchy.

By a vigorous effort Trueman frees himself from the miners who are
carrying him on their shoulders. He is at the side of Ethel in a moment.

"Do not be frightened. I am here and will protect you and your father's
remains."

His words are spoken in a loud decisive tone and reach the ears of the
crowd that press around the corpse.

Yielding to his indomitable will Ethel arises. She wavers an instant;
then stretches out her arms toward her protector.

Trueman seizes the delicate hands and draws her to his side.

"You are safe in my charge," he whispers to her soothingly. "Come with
me and you shall witness your father's burial. If it is done now the mob
will be pacified and will cease to clamor for vengeance."

Ethel walks by his side in silence.

The magnate's body is picked up and placed on the improvised litter of
boards which serves to support the body of Metz. In silence the
procession moves on toward the town.

The battle for moderation is won.

CHAPTER XXX.

A DOUBLE FUNERAL.

It is in an utterly hopeless frame of mind that Ethel walks beside
Harvey Trueman. She cannot conceive that one man will have sufficient
power over the passions of the multitude to prevent a violent
demonstration when the graveyard is reached.

"They will tear my father's body to pieces," she sobs.

"Take my word for it, there will be no disorder," Trueman assures her.
He walks with Ethel at the head of the motley crowd that only an hour
ago was clamoring for the body of Purdy; this same crowd is now
transformed into an orderly procession. The absence of music, or of any
sound other than the tramp of feet on the smooth hard roadway, makes the
procession unusual. There is deep silence, save for the occasional words
that are spoken by the principal actors.

"This is a sad reunion, Ethel; one that could never have been predicted.
When we parted that afternoon, two years ago, you said you never wished
to see me again. I have remained aw