cackle of occasional laughter, and took especial note of "War Eagle"
Ivus Niles, who led the parade. A fuzzy and ancient silk hat topped his
head, a rusty frock-coat flapped about his legs, and he tugged along at
the end of a cord a dirty buck sheep. A big crowd followed; but when
they shuffled into the yard of "The Barracks" most of the men were
grinning, as though they had come merely to look on at a show. The old
man in his aureole of roots gazed at them with composure, and noted no
hostility.

Niles and his buck sheep stood forth alone. The others were grouped in a
half circle. Even upon the "War Eagle," Thornton gazed tolerantly. There
was the glint of fun in his eyes when Niles formally removed his silk
hat, balanced it, crown up, in the hook of his elbow, and prepared to
deliver his message.

"The dynasty of the house of Thornton must end to-day!" boomed Niles, in
his best orotund.

Thornton found eyes in the crowd that blinked appreciation. Quizzical
wrinkles deepened in his broad face. He plucked a cigar from his
waistcoat-pocket and held it down toward Mr. Niles.

"No, sir!" roared that irreconcilable. "I ain't holding out my porringer
to Power--never again!"

"Power," repulsed, lighted the cigar from the one he was smoking, and
snapped the butt at the sheep.

"I'm a lover of good oratory, Ivus," he said, placidly, "and I know
you've come here loaded. Fire!" He clasped his upcocked knee with his