Hardie looked troubled, but he showed that he was honest.

"The churches are thinly attended; I'm the only resident clergyman, and
I'm sorry I must confess that some of our people are indifferent:
reluctant, or perhaps half afraid, to interfere. They want a clear
lead; if we could get a big determined meeting it might decide the
waverers."

"Then you're not sure of winning?" asked Grant.

"No," replied Hardie. "There'll be strong and well-managed opposition;
in fact, we have nearly everything against us. I've been urged to
wait, but the evil's increasing; those against us are growing stronger."

"If you lose, you and your friends will find the Butte pretty hot. But
you feel you have a chance, a fighting chance, and you mean to take it?"

"Yes."

"Then I'm with you,"' Grant declared with a grim smile. "Don't mistake
me: I take my glass of lager when I feel like it--there's some right
here in the house--but, if it's needful, I can do without. I'm not
going into this thing to help you in preaching to whisky-tanks and
toughs--it's the law I'm standing for. If what you suspect is going
on, we'll soon have our colts rebranded and our calves missing. We
have got to clean out Beamish's crowd."

"Thanks," said Hardie, with keen satisfaction.