The fight for the possession of the Manchester and Truesdale Railroad divides itself naturally into two acts. During the first week, while it would be absurd to say that the acts of either side were legal, all the proceedings had worn the cloak of law. But now matters had come to a deadlock. Judge Grey was both able and willing to undo any or all of the acts of Judge Black, and conversely. The last event of the first act was the attempt on Tuesday morning of the C. & S.C. people, armed with writs from Black, to seize the books of the company. They were courteously received and the vaults were thrown open to their inspection; but as the books had been spirited away the night before, the search was fruitless. Porter and McNally had been beaten at their own game, and they withdrew their forces to Truesdale. The fight was to be kept up on other lines. Wednesday morning, No. 7 on the C. & S.C. brought down a much larger number of passengers for Truesdale than ordinarily came on that train. They climbed down to the station platform from different cars, and regarded each other with studied indifference, but there was something homogeneous about the crowd that drew upon it the frankest stares of the station loafers. There were no women or children among them, they carried no baggage, and there was an air about them, carefully repressed but still discernible, which suggested that if any one were looking for trouble they were the men to whom to apply. They seemed to be trying to attract as little attention as possible, but they were followed by many curious glances, as they straggled in a long irregular line up the street toward the Truesdale Hotel. Katherine had driven into town that morning, and from her high trap she watched the spectacle with amused interest. Seeing McNally coming out of the hotel office she pulled up her horses and nodded to him with a peremptory cordiality which left him no escape from coming to speak to her. “So war is declared,” she said laughingly, nodding toward the rear guard who were disappearing in the hotel entrance. “I see you are massing your troops. Is that the entire army, or only a division?” McNally tried to utter a protest, but she went on unheeding. “I think they're too absurdly comical for words. They try so hard to look as if they weren't spoiling for a fight.” “Miss Porter,” said McNally, seriously, “your father's interests are at stake now and we must be discreet.” “I suppose so,” she said; “but really those men are irresistibly funny.” She gathered up the reins and the horses started, but as they moved away she turned and called back to him,-- “Be sure and come out to luncheon--that is, if you don't go to the front.”