"Well, if that is the kind of backbone they have been backing this town with," snapped the youth, his red hair standing erect, "you help them move, and the _Herald_ will show them up for quitters--and fill the town with real men." And being full of wrath, he proceeded to incorporate this thought in the half column he was setting up. The paper was eagerly snapped up by the crowd. "Who wrote this?" fairly howled Tom Granger. "I want to hold his grimy hand and help him shout for a bigger and better town." Ellis shoved Jap forward. "Here is the fire-eater," he announced. Jap flushed through the dirt on his face. "It's true," he said, half shyly. "There's no good in a quitter. The best thing is to smoke them out and get live men to take their places." "Bravely said," shouted Granger. "The bank will rebuild with brick. Who else builds on Main street?" Before the end of the following week the town was humming with industry. Every hack brought its contingent of insurance adjusters, and merchants elbowed contractors in the little telegraph office, in endeavors to get supplies. On Thursday a curious crowd stood watching Ellis and the boys run the blistered but still faithful Washington press in the boiling sun. "Goin' to get winter after a while, Jap," shouted one of the bystanders. "You'll have to wear ear muffs to get out your paper." Jap grinned and swung the lever around methodically. "What are you going to do, Ellis?" asked the honorable member from the "Halls of Justice," who had hurried to his little home town in her hour of trouble. "There ain't a vacant shack in town. It seems a darned shame that you'll have to give up, after starving with the town till it gets its toes set in gravel at last. Now that the railroad is running this way like a scared wolf, the town needs a paper worse than ever." "Who said they was going to quit?" demanded Judge Bowers pugnaciously. "They ain't! Ellis is goin' to have a two-story brick, with a printin' press that runs itself. This here town ain't no quitter." He glared fiercely at Harlow. Jap lingered with Ellis until the last of the day's work was finished. As he started for home he came upon an animated group, in the shade of the half-burned drug store. Behind a pile of wreckage, Bill was holding court. Jap stopped short. Bill was telling a lurid tale of superhuman strength and dare-devil bravery, of which Jap Herron was the hero, a tale that grew with every telling. A wave of embarrassment swept over Jap. As he turned hastily away, he felt a soft clutch on his arm. He looked back. Two sparkling black eyes were looking up into his. "I think that you are the bravest boy in the world," whispered Isabel Granger, "and--and I am glad I kissed you that time." Jap stared at her, stunned by a new emotion. In another moment she was gone, flying across the street in the direction of her home.