“I know mighty well what you want to say to me, Squire Hexter,” stated the object of the regard. “You don't need to say a word, though. I'll do the saying. Vaniman, you have had a raw deal. But you'll soon be through the woods. I'm going to have a bank in my new town. You're going to be the boss of it.” “Just a moment before you say anything, Frank,” expostulated the Squire when Vaniman, choking with doubts and gratitude both, attempted to speak. “I propose to start at once for the shire town. I'll begin with the county attorney. I'll have your name cleared inside of twenty-four hours.” “And don't bother with any Dobbins for that job,” declared the colonel. “Use my car. My chauffeur is hiding it in the bush a little ways from here. And now, Vaniman, give me all your attention,” he went on, with the pride of a successful performer. “I'll tell you what's going to happen over across the line in my town. It's going to interest you. You have been a man of affairs and you can grasp what I'm saying.” But Vaniman did not seem to be grasping even that introduction of the subject. He had heard hurrying footsteps outside the house. “You'll never listen to anything that will stir your blood like what I'm going to tell you of my plans for the future,” insisted the colonel. But a tremulous voice called: “Frank! Frank!” Vaniman leaped from his chair and turned his back on the man who proposed to stir the blood of the listener. Squire Hexter hurried to Colonel Wincott and whispered information which caused the master of The Promised Land to elevate his eyebrows understandingly. “Great Caesar! Why, sure!” he blurted, and popped up out of his chair. Following the Squire, he tiptoed to the door and stood on one side when the notary opened and peeped out. “Vona!” called the Squire, gently. “The boy is in here. Come!” She ran past them into the room. Colonel Wincott ducked out and the Squire followed and closed the door. He closed it slowly, softly, reverently, and then turned a smiling face of compassionate understanding toward Xoa and the colonel. CHAPTER XXXI THROUGH THE GATES OF THE DAWN INTO “LIBERTY” There was a hush in the Squire's house. The three who were in the sitting room discussed affairs, subduing their tones almost to whispers. When somebody tramped on to the porch and pounded on the door, the interruption was startling. The Squire went and opened the door and disclosed Deputy-Warden Bangs of the state prison. But when Bangs made a step forward the notary bulked himself in the doorway with all the dignity his modest size would permit. “I'm led to believe that you have in this house an escaped convict, name of Vaniman,” declared the officer. “Don't your prison records show that the convict named Vaniman is officially dead, sir?” “I'll admit that; but if what I have heard since I was routed out of my bed is so, those records will have to be revised.” “I have no control over your records,” returned the Squire, grimly.