but lo an' behold! it was mighty nigh kivered with round dots about the size of fly-specks. 'What's the matter with it?' I axed 'im. 'Oh, you mean them dots,' ses he, an' he turned to a lot o' reference words in the corner of the map. 'Them,' ses he, 'them's put thar to indicate the amount o' ignorance in a locality. You 'll find 'em in all places away from the railroads; a body kin say what they please agin railroads, but they fetch schools, an' books, an' enlightenment. You've got a good many specks' ses he, kinder comfortin' like, 'but some o' these days a railroad will shoot out this away, an' them brainy men amongst you will git the chance God intends to give 'em,' Gentlemen, I didn't buy no map. I wouldn't 'a' had the thing on my wall with them specks a-starin' me in the face. It wouldn't 'a' done any good to scrape 'em off, fer the'r traces would 'a' been left. No, friends, citizens, an' well-wishers, thar ain't but one scraper that will ever rake our specks off, an' that's the cow-catcher of a steam-engyne. I say let 'er come. Some objection has been raised on the score o' killin' cattle. That reminds me of a story they tell on old Burt Preston, who has a farm on the main line beyant Darley. He was always a-gittin' his stock killed so fast, an' a-puttin' in heavy claims fer damages, until folks begun to say he made his livin' by buyin' scrub cattle an' sellin' mashed beef to the corporation. One day the road sent out a detective to watch 'im, an' he seed Burt drive a spindlin' yeerlin' out o' the thicket on the track jest in time to get it knocked off by a through freight. The detective went back an' reported, an' they waited to see what Preston ud do. By the next mail they got a claim in which Preston said the yeerlin' weighed eight hundred pound an' was a fine four-gallon milch-cow. They threatened to jail 'im, an' Preston agreed to withdraw his claim. But he got down-hearted an' traded his place fer a farm on t'other railroad, an' the last I heerd o' him he was at his old trade agin. I reckon that's about the way we 'll be damaged by gettin' our stock killed. That's all I got to say, gentlemen. Let's git this road an' scrape our fly-specks off.” The big house shook with the applause that greeted this speech. Even the opposition seemed to be wavering. Only Bartell kept a rigid countenance. He rose and in a low voice invited his group to repair with him to one of the jury-rooms. They got up and followed him out. As he was about to close the door after them he nodded to Miller. “We 'll take a vote on it an' let you know,” he said, coldly. “He's going to talk to them,” said Miller, aloud to Wilson. “Mr. Daniel's speech almost shook them out of their boots, and he saw he was losing ground. It looks squally.” “You are right,” said Wilson, gloomily. “Our chances are very slim.” Miller caught Adele's eye and went to her.