It is always a misfortune when a man of Harshaw’s stamp has to contend with any degree of injustice. He had repeated to Gwinnan the truth, and for it he had been given the lie direct in circumstances under which he could not resent it; even the original threat was only the blurtings of an honest rage and for another man’s sake. He was clever in adroitly justifying means and ends. To be armed with the truth, a genuine grievance endowed him with a force, a self-respect, all-potent in their way, and a wonderful driving-wheel to an already lubricated and too alert machinery. He had an imperative serious air which seemed to intimate to Mr. Kinsard that this was no time for fooling. Kinsard was eccentric, ill-balanced. He was made up of prejudices, and he obeyed the impulse of the moment as other men obey interest or law. He was not predisposed in Harshaw’s favor. He took a different view of the scene upon which Harshaw presumed. He looked up, a whimsical light in his grave eyes, as he allowed Harshaw to waste his breath in urging him to vote against a bill which he was already pledged to kill. “The county line of those portions taken from Cherokee and Kildeer counties to form a new county in no instance approaches the county seat of Kildeer within eleven miles. There is no use for the people of Kildeer to commit the extravagance of a new court-house when they already have one,—a frame building, it is true, but spacious.” He looked very spacious himself, as he stood erect and waved his arm, the mental vision of the commodious Temple of Justice of Kildeer before him. “Then, sir, it is thought there may be a railroad to the present county seat, a branch of the T. C. V., which will aid in developing the resources of the country.” “Well, I don’t believe in railroads,” said Kinsard, unexpectedly. “Whenever they get to talking about running a railroad from one little town where there is nothing to another little town where that nothing is not wanted, I understand it as developing the resources of the country.” Harshaw was not in a mood to be bantered. “Mr. Kinsard,” he said, “you are either a fool absolute, or you think I am.” “As far as you are concerned,” said Kinsard with mock courtesy, “I have the highest opinion of your intelligence; ergo, it is more than probable that I _am_ a fool.” Harshaw endeavored to recover himself. He reassumed his more genial manner. “Admit that we are a choice brace. Well, now, we want you on our side; all the solid, substantial people of Kildeer County are arrayed against it.” “Oh, there are some solid citizens for it,” said Kinsard perversely, “or you’d be willing for it to be put to the popular vote.” Harshaw looked keenly at him. “Judge Gwinnan has been talking to you, hasn’t he? We’ve had to fight his influence all the way through.”