Colonel Gideon Ward, returning from the railroad-station, where he had been to order flat-cars for lumber, heard the distant clamor of voices, and stood up in his tall cart to listen.  At that instant, around the bend of the road, twenty feet away, came a horse galloping wildly.  Colonel Ward was halted squarely in the middle of the way.  He caught an amazed glimpse of Cap’n Sproul trying to rein to one side with unskilled hands, and then the wagons met.  Colonel Ward’s wagon stood like a rock.  The lighter vehicle, locking wheels, went down with a crash, and Cap’n Sproul shot head-on over the dasher into his brother-in-law’s lap, as he crouched on his seat.

The advantage was with Cap’n Sproul, for the Colonel was underneath.  Furthermore, Cap’n Sproul was thrice armed with the resolution of a desperate man.  Without an instant’s hesitation he drew back, hit Ward a few resounding buffets on either side of his head, and then tossed the dizzied man out of his wagon into the roadside slush.  An instant later he had the reins, swung the frightened horse across the gutter and around into the road, and continued his flight in the direction of the railroad-station.

The constables, leading the pursuing voters by a few lengths, found Colonel Ward sitting up in the ditch and gaping in utter amazement and dire wrath at the turn of the road where Cap’n Sproul had swept out of sight.

The wreck of the wagon halted them.

“I s’pose you’ve jest seen our first selectman-elect pass this way, haven’t ye?” inquired Mr. Nute, with official conservatism.

The Colonel had not yet regained his powers of speech.  He jabbed with bony finger in the direction of the railroad, and moved his jaws voicelessly.  Mr. Swanton descended from the wagon, helped him out of the ditch, and began to stroke the slush from his garments with mittened hand.  As he still continued to gasp ineffectually, Mr. Nute drove on, leaving him standing by the roadside.

Cap’n Sproul was at bay on the station platform, feet braced defiantly apart, hat on the back of his head, and desperate resolve flaming from his eyes.

“Don’t ye git out of your wagon, Nute,” he rasped.  “It’s been touch and go once with the three of ye to-day.  I could have killed ye like sheep.  Don’t git in my way ag’in.  Take warnin’!  It’s life or death, and a few more don’t make much difference to me now.”

The chief constable stared at him with bulging eyes.

“I could have killed ye and I didn’t,” repeated the Cap’n.  “Let that show ye that I’m square till I have to be otherwise.  But I’m a desp’rit’ man, Nute.  I’m goin’ to take that train.”  He brandished his fist at a trail of smoke up behind the spruces.  “Gawd pity the man that gits in my way!”

“Somethin’ has happened to his mind all of a sudden,” whispered Mr. Wade.  “He ought to be took care of till he gits over it.  It would be a pity and a shame to let a prominent man like that git away and fall into the hands of strangers.”