O'Dwyer was in no mood to permit this. For years he had idolized the Englishman. In a moment he placed himself in front of the ex-trader, and reaching, grabbed for Burroughs' nose. "Do I understand yeh're talkin' agin me friend, Philip Danvers?" he shouted, with a twist of the olfactory member. "If I hear anither whimper out of yez, I'll smash yeh one! I got Bill Moore drunk--I! Yeh can settle wid mesilf!" In the tumult the meeting adjourned, and Danvers was glad to get out of the hall and have a word with his friend. "Why were you so late, Arthur?" questioned Danvers, as soon as they had a moment together. "My boy is not well," Arthur explained, as his eye roved anxiously around the circling balcony. "Eva had set her heart on hearing the nomination speeches, and so I stayed with the laddie until the last minute. I couldn't bear to leave him alone with the nurse-girl." "Let me go for a doctor!" begged Danvers, anxious to be of some help. "No, he isn't sick enough for that--I did call a physician about dinner time. Perhaps I'm foolish," he smiled wanly, "but if anything should happen----" "Tut! tut!" Danvers put his hand on the stooping shoulders. "I'm going home on the midnight train, and I'll send the old doctor up to see the lad; or," with a sudden thought, "why not wire him? I will do it as I go to the station." "Perhaps you'd better," agreed Latimer. "I wish he had remained here for the convention; but I know he will be glad to make the trip for the sake of the boy, and the sight of his face will do me good." "You've been working too hard. Take it easy now and don't worry," counseled Danvers. "I shall be up again in a few weeks, and in the meantime write to me, Arthur." He stood a moment as Judge Latimer waited for Eva. He felt, somehow, that his friend needed him. But his train would soon be due, and with a hearty hand-clasp he said good-night and hurried away for the Fort Benton express. [Illustration] Chapter V Despair The days that followed the convention were like a dream to Danvers when he remembered them afterwards. He had scarcely picked up the old life at Fort Benton--looked over his cattle and gone over his neglected correspondence, when a telegram from the old doctor recalled him to Helena. Arthur Latimer's tragedy had come, and Danvers, unfamiliar with death, knew no words of consolation for the father bereft of his firstborn. A numbness mercifully comes during those first hours, which makes it possible to move about and go through strange, meaningless ceremonies with a calm that surprises those who have not known the searing touch of the death angel. A few days later he and the doctor were back at Fort Benton again, and life moved on as before. Only there was always the memory of Latimer's drawn face that no laddie's voice would lighten, no little hand caress.