“Whether we part now, to spend the remaining years of our life in some foul dungeon; whether to die a martyr’s death on the scaffold, or whether the workers of the land awake to their power and, under some wiser, stronger leadership, liberate us to enjoy the fruits of the harvest we have but sown, I cannot attempt to prophesy.  We have done what we could for our fellowmen.  We have not failed, for though we perish, yet our blood shall fructify what we have sown, that our sons and our sons’ sons may reap the garnered grain.  Gentlemen, of the Junta, I declare our meeting adjourned!”

Starr’s eyes were troubled, but his gun did not waver.  It pointed straight at the breast of Holman Sommers, who looked at him measuringly when he had finished speaking.

“I can’t argue about the idea back of this business,” Starr said gravely.  “All I can do is my duty.  Put on these handcuffs, Mr. Sommers.  They stand for something you ain’t big enough to lick—­yet.”

“Certainly,” said Holman Sommers composedly.  “You put the case like a philosopher.  Like a philosopher I yield to the power which, I grant you, we are not big enough to lick—­yet.  In behalf of our Cause, however, permit me to call your attention to the fact that we might have come nearer to victory, had you not discovered and interrupted this meeting to-night.”  Though his face was paler than was natural, he slipped on the manacles as matter-of-factly as he would have put on clean cuffs, and rose from his chair prepared to go where Starr directed.

“No, sit down again,” said Starr brusquely.  “Sheriff, gather up all those pieces of paper for evidence against these men, and give them to me.  Give me a receipt for the men—­I’ll wait for it.  I want you and Chief Whittier to hold them here in this room till I come back.  I won’t be long—­half an hour, maybe.”  He took the slips of paper which the sheriff folded and handed to him, and slipped them into his pocket.

He was gone a little longer than he said, for he had some trouble in locating the railroad official he wanted, and in convincing that sleepy official that he was speaking for the government when he demanded an engine and day coach to be placed on a certain dark siding he mentioned, ready for a swift night run to El Paso and a little beyond—­to Fort Bliss, in fact.

He got it, trust Starr for that!  And he was only twenty minutes behind the time he had named, though the sheriff and the chief of police betrayed a nervous relief when he walked in upon them and announced that he was ready now to move the prisoners.

They untied the terrified watchman and added him to the group.  In the dark, and by way of vacant lots and unlighted streets, he took them to a certain point where an engine had just backed a single, unlighted day coach on to a siding and stood there with air-pump wheezing and the engineer crawling around beneath with his oil can.  By the rear steps of the coach a mystified conductor stood waiting with his lantern hidden under his coat.  A big man was the conductor; once a policeman and therefore with a keen nose—­don’t laugh!—­for mysteries.