disgrace to the town of Dalton."

The squire shifted uneasily in the chair. He had not spoken coherently
since the struggle with Ralph, and was still in an ugly mood. At the
same time he understood who now addressed him; the president of the
board; the man who had authority to bring matters about so as to deprive
him of the office he had held for years.

"Stand up!" called the president, and the squire shuffled awkwardly to
his feet.

"What have you to say in this matter? We have a quorum of the board here
present and we may as well dispose of this case. There is also another
count pending against you. How did you come to let that man Anderson
slip out of Dalton so easily--help him out in fact? Was his money better
than that of the people of this town, who for years have been paying you
for duties that you have never honestly performed?"

At the mention of Anderson, Squire Sanders' face turned from red to a
deadly ashen.

"Look out," cautioned Ralph aside to the president, "he is old you know,
and might drop at any moment."

"Not a bit of it," went on Mr. MacAllister. "He is too tough for that.
Speak up, Sanders. This is your last chance."

But the man never moved his lips. Sullen and beaten he sat there while
Mr. MacAllister, recounted some of his misdeeds.