During all the long day the Vigilantes lay in hiding, impatient at their idleness and wondering at the lack of effort made towards their discovery, not dreaming that McNamara had more cleverly hidden plans behind.  When Cherry’s note of warning came they gathered in the back room and gave voice to their opinions.

“There’s only one way to clear the atmosphere,” said the chairman.

“You bet,” chorussed the others.  “They’ve garrisoned the mines, so let’s go through the town and make a clean job of it.  Let’s hang the whole outfit to one post.”

This met with general approval, Glenister alone demurring.  Said he:  “I have reasoned it out differently, and I want you to hear me through before deciding.  Last night I got word from Wheaton that the California courts are against us.  He attributes it to influence, but, whatever the reason, we are cut off from all legal help either in this court or on appeal.  Now, suppose we lynch these officials to-night—­what do we gain?  Martial law in two hours, our mines tied up for another year, and who knows what else?  Maybe a corrupter court next season.  Suppose, on the other hand, we fail—­and somehow I feel that we will, for that boss is no fool.  What then?  Those of us who don’t find the morgue will end in jail.  You say we can’t meet the soldiers.  I say we can and must.  We must carry this row to them.  We must jump it past the courts of Alaska, past the courts of California, and up to the White House, where there’s one honest man, at least.  We must do something to wake up the men in Washington.  We must get out of politics, for McNamara can beat us there.  Although he’s a strong man he can’t corrupt the President.  We have one shot left, and it must reach the Potomac.  When Uncle Sam takes a hand we’ll get a square deal, so I say let us strike at the Midas to-night and take her if we can.  Some of us will go down, but what of it?”

Following this harangue, he outlined a plan which in its unique daring took away their breaths, and as he filled in detail after detail they brightened with excitement and that love of the long chance which makes gamblers of those who thread the silent valleys or tread the edge of things.  His boldness stirred them and enthusiasm did the rest.

“All I want for myself,” he said, “is the chance to run the big risk.  It’s mine by right.”

Dextry spoke, breathlessly, to Slapjack in the pause which ensued: 

“Ain’t he a heller?”

“We’ll go you,” the miners chimed to a man.  And the chairman added:  “Let’s have Glenister lead this forlorn hope.  I am willing to stand or fall on his judgment.”  They acquiesced without a dissenting voice and with the firm hands of a natural leader the young man took control.

“Let’s hurry up,” said one.  “It’s a long ‘mush’ and the mud is knee-deep.”

“No walking for us,” said Roy.  “We’ll go by train.”

“By train?  How can we get a train?”