“’Tain’t that kind of smashin’. _He_ says fer you to git a dozen fellers and fill ’em full, and then turn ’em loose on that printin’ shop with sledge hammers. Kind of tinker with it, like. Git the idee?” “So-oo!... Me, eh? I can’t see me leadin’ no sich percession down Main Street. Hain’t achin’ to git the public eye focused on me any. Talk enough goin’ around now.” “Fix it anyhow you like--only fix it.” “What if the sheriff’s office is called to put down the disturbance?” “It wouldn’t git much result, seems as though,” said the Deputy, humorously. Peewee Bangs walked leisurely back to reconnoiter the _Free Press_ office, and, having satisfied himself, clambered into his rickety car and drove out of town in the general direction of the Lakeside Hotel. Carmel Lee was seated at her desk, endeavoring to appear oblivious to the excitement outside and to the air of hostility within. Everybody disapproved. Even Simmy, the printer’s devil, went about with a look of apprehension, and stopped now and then to peer at her reproachfully. Tubal blustered and muttered. He had appeared that morning with an automatic shotgun under his arm, which he stood against the case from which he was sticking type. “Going hunting?” Carmel asked, with pretended innocence. “Self-pertection,” said Tubal, “is the fust six laws of nature, and the bulk of all the rest of ’em.” “You’re trying to frighten me,” Carmel said, “and you can’t do it. I won’t be frightened.” “Different here. I _be_ frightened.... Now go back and write some more of them dynamite pieces, Lady, and after the next issue of this here rag comes out--if it ever does--I’m goin’ to throw up breast-works and see if I can’t borrow me a machine gun.” “Fiddlesticks!” said Carmel. Evan Pell did not refer to her work until she invited his comment. Then he turned his eyes upon her with something of the old superciliousness in them and said, dryly, “What is done is done.” “I gather you don’t approve.” “I most certainly do _not_,” he said. “Why,” he countered, “did you not discuss this step with me?” “Why should I?” she answered, sharply. “In order,” he said, “to receive an intelligent idea of the course of action to take.” He said this with flat finality, and turned his back. Thereafter Carmel sulked. She had expected some result--beneficial. Just what result she had not envisaged. Perhaps she had expected some public ovation, some sign that Gibeon sided with her in her efforts to the end of law and order. If she had hoped for this, she was disappointed. Gibeon buzzed with excitement, whispered in corners, gathered in knots, but, such of its inhabitants as found reason to address her, studiously ignored the subject. Gibeon was manifestly uneasy.