By this time nearly all the Le Roi shares were held by Spokane people.  The Governor, having arranged with a wealthy English syndicate, was in a position to buy the mine; but the owners did not seem anxious to sell.  Eventually, however, when he was able to offer them an average of $7.50 for shares that had cost the holders but from ten to sixty cents a share, about half of them were willing to sell; the balance were not.  Now the Governor cared nothing for this “balance” so long as he could secure a majority,—­a controlling interest in the mine,—­for the English would have it in no other way.  A few thousand scattering shares he had already picked up, and now, from the faction who were willing to sell, he secured an option on 242,000 shares, which, together with the odd shares already secured, would put his friends in control of the property.

As news of the proposed sale got out, the gorge that was yawning between the two factions grew wider.

Finally, when the day arrived for the transfer to be made, the faction opposed to the sale prepared to make trouble for those who were selling, to prevent the moving of the seal of the company to Canada—­in short, to stop the sale.  They did not go with guns to the secretary and keeper of the seal and say, “Bide where ye be”; but they went into court and swore out warrants for the arrest of the secretary and those of the directors who favored the sale, charging them with conspiracy.

It was midnight in Spokane.

A black locomotive, hitched to a dark day-coach, stood in front of the Great Northern station.  The dim light of the gauge lamp showed two nodding figures in the cab.  Out on the platform a man walked up and down, keeping an eye on the engine, that was to cost him a cool $1000.00 for a hundred-mile run.  Presently a man with his coat-collar about his ears stepped up into the gangway, shook the driver, and asked him where he was going.

“Goin’ to sleep.”

The man would not be denied, however, and when he became too pressing, the driver got up and explained that the cab of his engine was his castle, and made a move with his right foot.

“Hold,” cried his tormentor, “do you know that you are about to lay violent hands upon an officer o’ the law?”

“No,” said the engineer, “but I’ll lay a violent foot up agin the crown-sheet o’ your trousers if you don’t jump.”

The man jumped.

Now the chief despatcher came from the station, stole along the shadow side of the car, and spoke to the man who had ordered the train.

A deputy sheriff climbed up on the rear end of the special, tried the door, shaded his eyes, and endeavored to look into the car.

“Have you the running orders?” asked the man who was paying for the entertainment.

“Yes.”

“Let her go, then.”

All this was in a low whisper; and now the despatcher climbed up on the fireman’s side and pressed a bit of crumpled tissue-paper into the driver’s hand.