“Und yet,” observed Mr. Farbach, with mildness, “we got some pooty risbecdable men right here.”

“Except me,” broke in Mr. Sheehan, grimly, “you have.”

“Have you thought of this?” Joe leaned forward and touched the paper upon the table.

“We hef,” replied Mr. Farbach.  “All of us.  You shall beat it.”

There was a strong chorus of confirmation from the others, and Joe’s eyes flashed.

“Have you considered,” he continued, rapidly, while a warm color began to conquer his pallor,—­ “have you considered the powerful influence which will be against me, and more against me now, I should tell you, than ever before?  That influence, I mean, which is striving so hard to discredit me that lynch-law has been hinted for poor Fear if I should clear him!  Have you thought of that?  Have you thought—­”

“Have we thought o’ Martin Pike?” exclaimed Mr. Sheehan, springing to his feet, face aflame and beard bristling.  “Ay, we’ve thought o’ Martin Pike, and our thinkin’ of him is where he begins to git what’s comin’ to him!  What d’ye stand there pickin’ straws fer?  What’s the matter with ye?” he demanded, angrily, his violence tenfold increased by the long repression he had put upon himself during the brewer’s deliberate utterances.  “If Louie Farbach and his crowd says they’re fer ye, I guess ye’ve got a chanst, haven’t ye?”

“Wait,” said Joe.  “I think you underestimate Pike’s influence—­”

“Underestimate the devil!” shouted Mr. Sheehan, uncontrollably excited.  “You talk about influence!  He’s been the worst influence this town’s ever had—­and his tracks covered up in the dark wherever he set his ugly foot down.  These men know it, and you know some, but not the worst of it, because none of ye live as deep down in it as I do!  Ye want to make a clean town of it, ye want to make a little heaven of the Beach—­”

“And in the eyes of Judge Pike,” Joe cut him off, “and of all who take their opinions from him, I represent Beaver Beach!”

Mike Sheehan gave a wild shout.  “Whooroo!  It’s come!  I knowed it would!  The day I couldn’t hold my tongue, though I passed my word I would when the coward showed the deed he didn’t dare to git recorded!  Waugh!” He shouted again, with bitter laughter.  “Ye do!  In the eyes o’ them as follow Martin Pike ye stand fer the Beach and all its wickedness, do ye?  Whooroo!  It’s come!  Ye’re an offence in the eyes o’ Martin Pike and all his kind because ye stand fer the Beach, are ye?”

“You know it!” Joe answered, sharply.  “If they could wipe the Beach off the map and me with it—­”

“Martin Pike would?” shouted Mr. Sheehan, while the others, open-mouthed, stared at him.  “Martin Pike would?”

“I don’t need to tell you that,” said Joe.

Mr. Sheehan’s big fist rose high over the table and descended crashing upon it.  “It’s a damn lie!” he roared.  “Martin Pike owns Beaver Beach!”