," said Mr. Tooting, bitterly, "but you never get to be governor and
read 'em. You've got to be a 'come on' with thirty thousand dollars to be
a Northeastern governor and live next door to the Honourable Hilary in
the Pelican. Well, so long, Aust. If anything's up, give me the tip,
that's all I ask."

Reflecting on the singular character of Mr. Tooting, Austen sought the
Gaylords' headquarters, and found them at the furthermost end of the
building from the Railroad Room. The door was opened by young Tom
himself, whose face became wreathed in smiles when he saw who the visitor
was.

"It's Austen!" he cried. "I thought you'd come down when you got that
appeal of mine."

Austen did not admit the self-sacrifice as he shook Tom's hand; but
remembered, singularly enough, the closing sentences of Tom's letter
--which had nothing whatever to do with the Gaylord bill.

At this moment a commotion arose within the room, and a high, tremulous,
but singularly fierce and compelling voice was heard crying out:--"Get
out! Get out, d-n you, all of you, and don't come back until you've got
some notion of what you're a-goin' to do. Get out, I say!"

These last words were pronounced with such extraordinary vigour that four
gentlemen seemed to be physically impelled from the room. Three of them
Austen recognized as dismissed and disgruntled soldiers from the lobby
army of the Northeastern; the fourth was the Honourable Galusha Hammer,
whose mode of progress might be described as "stalking," and whose lips
were forming the word "intolerable." In the corner old Tom himself could
be seen, a wizened figure of wrath.

"Who's that?" he demanded of his son, "another d-d fool?"

"No," replied young Tom, "it's Austen Vane."

"What's he doin' here?" old Tom demanded, with a profane qualification as
to the region. But young Tom seemed to be the only being capable of
serenity amongst the flames that played around him.

"I sent for him because he's got more sense than Galusha and all the rest
of 'em put together," he said.

"I guess that's so," old Tom agreed unexpectedly, "but it ain't sayin'
much. Bring him in--bring him in, and lock the door."

In obedience to these summons, and a pull from young Tom, Austen entered
and sat down.

"You've read the Pingsquit bill?" old Tom demanded.

"Yes," said Austen.

"Just because you won a suit against the Northeastern, and nearly killed
a man out West, Tom seems to think you can do anything. He