Mowbray looked harassed and worn, and Kenwyne felt sorry for him.
"I suggest that you let the fellow produce his mortgages and receive him at a council meeting. The matter's of interest to everybody."
"Then you have some scheme?" Mowbray asked eagerly.
"As it's far-reaching, we'd rather put it before the council. I'm half afraid we can't expect your approval until you know everything; but you should be able to command a majority if we don't convince you."
"I can do nothing to save the settlement," Mowbray said with dignity; "and I dare not refuse to let others try, even if their ways are not mine. We'll leave it at that. I'll call the meeting."
It was a calm, clear evening when all the Allenwood settlers assembled in the hall at the Grange. The days were getting shorter, and a lamp or two was lighted; but, outside, the last of the sunset glowed in a red band along the prairie's rim. Mowbray sat at the head of the table; Harding, Broadwood, Kenwyne, and Lance were close together; the rest scattered about the spacious room, some half hidden in the shadow, some where the partial illumination touched them. All were silent and expectant; they felt it would prove a memorable night for Allenwood.
There was a rattle of wheels outside, and soon afterward Davies was shown in. He was smartly dressed in well-cut city clothes, and his aggressive, self-conscious air contrasted with the easy grace of the brown-faced men in shooting jackets and fringed deerskin.
"I came here expecting a private interview," he said to Mowbray. "I do not understand why I'm asked to meet these gentlemen, most of whom I have not the pleasure of knowing."
"I cannot tell what you expected," Mowbray answered haughtily. "Your business is, however, of interest to us all, and to state it now will save some time, because nothing can be done until our council is informed of it."
Davies' glance wandered round the room, as if in search of somebody, but he did not notice Harding, who was in the shadow.