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him seriously at all; she might pass flippantly over his tragedy, coin a cynicism about it, laugh at him as Tim Fraley had done; only with that more polished and subtle mockery indigenous to a modern young ladies' seminary; that place where nothing is sacred, not even unchastity. Abner felt he could never endure that.

The conversation veered from Adelaide to Railroad Jones and the strike of the construction gang. The two men were sitting in Mr. Sandage's office in the county courthouse watching the country people who were beginning to gather for another quarterly court.

"I shore hope Railroad gits his new gang together to-day," mused the county trustee, watching this fresh supply of raw labour.

"Jest what did the old gang strike for?" asked Abner. "More money?"

"No, some money."

"What you mean by that?"

"Perry Northcutt quit advancin' wages, an' nachelly the men quit work."

"How's railroad goin' to finance his new gang?" inquired Abner curiously.

"Tell you the truth," said the trustee in a low tone, "I'm goin' to do it myse'f."

"You!" Abner stared at his foster-father.

Jim moistened his lips. "I got to, Abner. I got so much invested in that railroad, I got to put through these last few miles, then I'll git all my money back."

"You goin' to pay off the old gang, too?"

"No, Railroad said we didn't have enough money to pay off the old gang; said we'd jest start in with a fresh gang we didn't owe nothin'."

"That's playin' it purty low down on the others," mused Abner.

"Once the road's a-runnin', Railroad says he can pay off ever'body. . . . You know sometimes I wish I hadn't got into this damn business a-tall." He sat staring at the