"For the sake of having your own stubborn way--like most of the others
that are howling about 'The People' in this State just now--you are
ready to tip over this district's apple-cart, are you? Is that what you
are trying to do? You take what I have given you, legislation and money
that I've paid for labor in this section, and then propose to kick my
pride in the tenderest place? I'll show you, Davis!"

"Well, show! We ain't a mite scared."

For some moments the throng in the town hall had shown waning interest
in this discussion. There seemed to be matters outside that distracted
the attention of those near the windows.

"There's a fire up Jo Quacca way!" called some one. The windows of town
hall were high and uncurtained. All could see. Smoke, ominous and
yellow, ballooned in huge volumes across the blue sky of the June day.

"There ain't no bonfire in that, gents," declared a man. "That fire has
got a start, and if it's in that slash from that logging operation, it
ain't going to be put out with no pint dipperful."

There was sudden hush in the big room. All men were gazing at the
mounting masses that rolled into the heavens and blossomed bodefully
over the wooded hills. Fat clouds of the smoke hung high and motionless.
From the earth went up to them whirls and spirals and billowing
discharges like smoke from noiseless artillery.

A man had climbed upon a window-sill of the hall in order to see more
clearly.