, you're good for twenty years, at the
very lul-least!"

"Am I? It occurs to me that the prosecuting attorney in the case will have
a hard time proving anything. Doesn't it look that way to you? At the
worst, it is only an unhappy misunderstanding of orders. And if the end
should happen to justify the means----"

Hildreth shook his head gravely.

"You don't understand, David. If you could be sure of a fair-minded judge
and an unbiased jury--you and those who are implicated with you: but
you'll get neither in this machine-ridden State."

"We are going to have both, after you have filled your two columns--by the
way, you are still saving those two columns for me, aren't you?--in
to-morrow morning's _Argus_. Or rather, I'm hoping there will be no need
for either judge or jury."

The night editor shook his head again, and once more he said, "My heaven!"
adding: "What could you possibly hope to accomplish? You'll get the
receiver and his big boss out of the State for a few minutes, or possibly
for a few hours, if your strike makes them hunt up another railroad to
return on. But what will it amount to? Getting rid of the receiver doesn't
annul the decree of the court."

Kent fell back on his secretive habit yet once again.

"I don't care to anticipate the climax, Hildreth. By one o'clock one of
two things will have happened: you'll get a wire that will make your back
hair sit up, or I'll get one that will make me wish I'd never been born.
Let it rest at that for the present; you have work enough on hand to fill
up the interval, and if you haven't, you can distribute those affidavits I
gave you among the compositors and get them into type. I want to see them
in the paper to-morrow morning, along with the other news."

"Oh, we can't do that, David! The time isn't ripe. You know what I told
you about----"

"If the time doesn't ripen to-night, Hildreth, it never will. Do as I tell
you, and get that stuff into type. Do more; write the hottest editorial
you can think of, demanding to know if it isn't time for the people to
rise and clean out this stable once for all."

"By Jove! David, I've half a mum-mind to do it. If you'd only unbutton
yourself a little, and let me see what my backing is going to be----"

"All in good season," laughed Kent. "Your business for the present moment
is to write; I'm going down to the Union Station."

"What for?" demanded the editor.

"To see if our crazy engineer is still mistaking his