n millions of minds. It can
never die. It too is immortal. What have guns and ropes and steel bars
to do with a vision like this?" He threw back his head, his blue eyes
blazed and he all but chanted his defiance of material things: "What can
they do to me, to my faith, to us, to these Valley people, to the
millions in the world who see what we see, who know what we know and
strive for what we cherish? Don't talk to me about death--there is no
death for God's truth. As for this miserable body here--" He gazed at
his friends for a moment, shook his head sadly and walked to the jailer.

For an hour after the sheriff took Grant to his cell as the town went
home and presumably to bed, George Brotherton with Henry Fenn and Nathan
Perry, rolled his car around the court house square in the still, hot
June night. The Doctor stood by his electric runabout, for half an hour
or more. Then, the Doctor feeling that a false alarm had been spread,
whirred up the hill. The younger men stayed on Market Street. They left
it long after midnight, deserted and still.

As the watching party broke up, a telephone message from the offices of
Calvin & Calvin winged its way to Sands Park, and from the shades there
came silently a great company of automobiles with hooded lights. One
separated from the others and shot down into the Valley of the Wahoo.
The others went into Market Street.

At three o'clock the work there was done. The office of the Harvey
_Tribune_ was wrecked, and in one automobile rode Amos Adams, a
prisoner, while before him, surrounded by a squad of policemen, rode
Grant Adams, bound and gagged.

Around the policemen the mob gathered, and at the city limits the
policemen abandoned Grant and Amos. Their instructions were to take the
two men out of town. The policemen knew the mob. It was not Market
Street. It was the thing that Market Street had made with its greed. The
ignorance of the town, the scum of the town--men, white and black, whom
Market Street, in thoughtless greed the world over, had robbed as
children of their birthright; men whose chief joy was in cruelty and who
lusted for horror. The mob was the earth-bound demon of Market Street.
Only John Kollander in his brass buttons and blue soldier clothes and
stuttering Kyle Perry and one or two others of the town's respectability
were with the mob that took Grant Adams and his father after the
policemen released the father and son at the city limits. The
respectables d