He watched the man as he made his way, humiliated, venomous, muttering, into the town. Then he hastened back to the girl.
“Oh, Rand, oh, Rand,” she whispered through white lips, “I wish I had never seen this place!”
“Don’t feel so badly, Jeanne,” he pleaded unhappily. “It will soon be the town you used to love. We have little to fear from that beast now. And I think, sweet—er—I think we have almost reached the goal! Our work the other night won all of the good element over, and most of the doubtful ones. The big majority are eager for the election. I feel sure we are nearly at the end of our troubles!”
But had he known of a bitter meeting which took place that night between a certain seventeen, he would not have been so confident.
“I know who’s at the head o’ this thing now,” one of them was muttering savagely. “I seen somethin’ to-day, an’ I know all I needs to know! I figgers that if we can git rid o’ the leaders—or any o’ the rest o’ them, in the meanwhile—we can put a stop to it yet! An’ I’m not a-goin’ to leave Red Valley until I gits one o’ them myself!”
CHAPTER VIII. THE WASP’S STING.
Two days later, at nine o’clock in the morning, a cavalcade of black-robed riders, in column of fours, trotted silently into Ramapo. There were at least two hundred of them. Their costume was identical with that of the body which had appeared at the “Silver Star,” with one exception—behind the large, red “J” other smaller letters completed the word “Justice.”
Once inside the town, they quickly broke up into smaller units. Strong groups posted themselves at the head of each road leading into the town. Others quietly patrolled the streets. The main body formed in front of the post-office and made preparations for the work before them. There was a skill in the disposition of the riders, an orderly snap and precision about all their movements, that betrayed competent leadership by one experienced in military strategy. When the visitors had taken position, there was as much chance for resistance in Ramapo as for the proverbial snowball in the well-known place of warmth and discomfort.
But no resistance developed. There was no organization in the town which could combat these well-drilled and determined men. Not all the inhabitants were in favor of the riders; but the few who were not displayed no overmastering desire to attempt to subdue them alone. The majority were loud in their expressions of welcome and approval.
For a brief period after everything was in readiness the men hesitated to come forward. Then one of the hardier spirits stepped up and recorded the first vote ever cast in Ramapo. He was quickly followed by others. The ice once broken, it was only a short while before the self-appointed election commissioners were working under high pressure. Lines were formed, directions given, and the voting went merrily on. At the invitation of the riders, several of the better known miners took their places on the board, as an assurance that everything was being done “above the table.” Half in a spirit of jest, half in a spirit of grim earnestness and sober satisfaction, the rough and-ready men of that rough-and-ready country hastened to deposit the little slips that told of their choice.