The silent audience looked at him gravely, with eyes level and straight, as it had regarded the speakers preceding him.

“But—­” and here he stiffened—­“I did not know I was asked to help steal this town, to help rob my friends.  These men have proposed to take what was not theirs.  They have wanted no methods but their own.  They have not asked, but ordered.  If this is their way, they’ll have to get some other man.”

The men of Heart’s Desire still looked at him gravely, silently.

“Now,” said Dan Anderson, “I’ve had my chance to choose, and I’ve chosen.  The choice has cost me much, but that has been my personal cost, with which you have nothing to do.  I am throwing away my chance, my future, but I do throw them away!”

As he spoke he flung at Mr. Ellsworth’s feet the roll of bills.  “Sir,” said he, “it is the sense of this meeting that the railroad shall not come into Heart’s Desire.  Is it so?” he asked of the eyes and the darkness; and a deep murmur said that it was so.

Dan Anderson stepped down from the little platform out into the room.  Hands were thrust out to him, but he seemed not to see them.  He pushed on out, haggard; and presently the assemblage followed, breaking apart awkwardly, and leaving Ellsworth standing alone at the rear of the room.

Ellsworth was now wondering what had become of Barkley, and in his discomfiture was turning around in search, when he heard a voice behind him, and passing back encountered Barkley, staggering and bloody, as he entered through a side door of the building.

“Great God! man, what’s the matter?” exclaimed Ellsworth.  “What’s happened to you?”

“That fellow struck me with a gun.  Let me in!  Let me get fixed for him!  By God!  I’ll kill him.”

“Kill whom?  Who did it?  Wait!  Wait, now!” expostulated Ellsworth, following him toward his room; but Barkley still fumed and threatened.  “That fellow Anderson—­” Ellsworth caught.

The sound of their voices reached other ears.  Constance came running from her own room, questioning.

“Barkley’s been hurt,” explained her father, motioning her away.  “Some mistake.  He and Anderson have had trouble over this railroad business, some way.”

“By God!  I’ll kill him!” shrieked Barkley again, in spite of her presence, perhaps because of it.  “Where can I get a gun?”

“You forget—­my daughter—­” began Ellsworth.  But Constance avenged the discourtesy for herself.

“Never mind, papa,” she said coldly.  “Mr. Barkley, you look ridiculous.  Go wash your face; and then, if you want a gun, go get one in the front room.  The wall’s full of them.”  A glint of scorn was in her eyes, which carried no mercy for the vanquished, nor any concern for the victor.  She drew her father with her into her own room.

“By the Lord! girl,” exclaimed he, “things have come out different from what we expected.  I never thought—­”