He dismissed the matter abruptly, with an inquiry about the line fences and a mention of the destroyed dam. “I told those farmers their dam wouldn’t hold,” he declared, with something akin to satisfaction in his tone. “I knew it couldn’t, the way they put it together. They wouldn’t believe me, for they thought I had some axe to grind in saying it; but now they see for themselves.” Justin wondered what Philip Davison would say if he knew the truth. He did not even comment on Davison’s statement, but left the room as soon as he could do so without brusqueness. Sloan Jasper, representing the opposition to Ben Davison, came to him the next day, which was Thursday. “How about that, Justin?” he asked, anxious yet hopeful. Justin had been given time to think, and his answer was ready. “It wouldn’t be possible for me to run against Ben—it wouldn’t be right.” “He ain’t fit fer the place, and you know it!” “I can’t run against him, Mr. Jasper.” Jasper was almost angry. “Well, we’ll git somebody that will. You could split the cowboy vote.” “Perhaps I could, but I can’t make the race.” “Maybe Davison thinks we’re done fer, jist because that dam went out; but he’ll soon know better. We’ll put in a new dam, and we’ll have our rights hyer in the valley; and we’re goin’ to beat Ben Davison fer the legislature, if talk and votes and hard work can do it.” Sloan Jasper and the farmers were very much in earnest. They found a man who was willing to stand in opposition to Ben Davison, and the campaign which followed was heated and bitter. With sealed lips Justin continued his round of work on the ranch. A word from him, from Fogg, or from Lucy Davison, would not only have wrecked Ben’s political prospects, but would have landed him in prison. That word was not spoken. The opposition exerted its entire strength, but Ben Davison was elected triumphantly. The day Ben drove away from the ranch on his way to Denver, to become one of the legislators of the state, Philip Davison spoke again to Justin. “There goes Ben, a member of the legislature! He’s not so very much older than you, Justin; yet see what he has accomplished, young as he is.” “Yes, I see!” said Justin, quietly. BOOK TWO—THE BATTLE CHAPTER I COWARDICE AND HEROISM Though Justin Wingate was no longer connected with the Davison ranch he was not the less concerned when he beheld the sudden flare of flame near the head of the cañon and the cloud of smoke which now concealed it. A fire starting there in the tall grass and sedge might destroy much of the Davison range, and would endanger the unharvested crops and the homes of the valley farmers. Forest fires were ravaging the mountains, and for days the air had been filled with a haze of smoke through which the sun shone like a ball of copper. The drought of late summer had made mountain and mesa a tinder box. Hence Justin turned from the trail and rode rapidly toward the fire.