as anybody."

Tom burst out laughing, and clapped his companion lightly on the shoulder,
his eyes dancing with pleasure.

"Upon my soul," he cried, "I believe you are! It's against all my
tradition, and I see I am the gull of poetry; for I've always believed it
to be beyond question that this sort of miracle was wrought, not by rage,
but by the tenderer senti--" Tom checked himself. "Well, let's take a
drive."

"Meredith," said the other, turning to him gravely, "you may think me a
fool, if you will, and it's likely I am; but I don't leave this station
except by train. I've only two days to work in, and every minute lessens
our chances to beat McCune, and I have to begin by wasting time on a
tussle with a traitor. There's another train at eleven fifty-five; I don't
take any chances on missing that one."

"Well, well," laughed his friend, pushing him good-humoredly toward a door
by a red and white striped pillar, "we'll wait here, if you like; but at
least go in there and get a shave; it's a clean shop. You want to look
your best if you are going down to fight H. Fisbee."

"Take these, then, and you will understand," said Harkless; and he thrust
his three telegrams of the morning into Tom's hand and disappeared into
the barber-shop. When he was gone, Meredith went to the telegraph office
in the station, and sent a line over the wire to Helen:

"Keep your delegation at home. He's coming on the 11.55."