"I surely do begin to see, Colonel Wincott."

"Vaniman, if I had gone to the cities and advertised for settlers, what kind would I have got? Probably only a bunch of aliens dissatisfied already; if they weren't sore on general conditions I couldn't coax 'em to move. And aliens are always moving. I wanted some of the old breed of Yankee pioneers. That's what my folks were, 'way back. I took a sly peek into the town of Egypt. Good folks, but no opportunities here. Everything gone to seed. Up in my township a new deal with a fresh deck! Plenty of timber, plenty of rich land—and mills going up. Confound it! I propose to be boss of a real town—not a wild land plantation!"

He suddenly shifted his posture. He came forward in his chair and set his elbows on his knees. "Say, Vaniman, I got Hexter's opinion a few days ago when I opened up to him and hired him to attend to the law. But I want to ask you now what you think of my real-estate agent?"

The young man shifted his bewildered gaze from the colonel's jovial and inquiring visage to the Squire's equally cheerful countenance.

"Known to Pharaoh and the modern Children of Israel as the Prophet Elias, Frank," explained the notary. "I have heartily indorsed his good work. Furthermore, he knows well how to keep a secret and how to train others to keep one. Tasper Britt went to bed this night without one inkling of what was about to happen. He did not know that he was to be left here without men to toil and pay him his twelve per cent. He has town debts. He has the bare acres he has foreclosed on—he has the tumble-down houses. He has the paupers on the poor farm. He—"

"Hold on, Squire! I forgot about those paupers," broke in the colonel. "I want a town that's fully rounded out. A few paupers belong in a town so that they may serve to remind others folks that they must keep busy and avoid the poor farm. And even the paupers will wake up and go to work in my town! Work will be in the air. I'm going to send a wagon after those paupers. Britt is no sort of a man to be allowed pets; he'll let 'em starve."

"Undoubtedly," agreed the Squire. "I'll say, further, Frank, that when the Prophet started off last evening, blowing his trump to sound the signal for the migration, Britt stood and saw him go—and never guessed what it meant."

"I heard that horn—I wondered."

"He's a good blower," stated Colonel Wincott. "He blew all the props out from under the man Britt. Solidly grounded on texts, Elias is! Vaniman, a brand-new scheme needs a resourceful operator." He patted the top of his head. "Pardon me for flattering myself. I invented the system and the Prophet played it."

Then Colonel Wincott leaned back, stuck his thumbs into the armholes of his vest, and rocked on the hind legs of the chair. "I played a hunch," he went on. "I was going through Scollay Square in Boston one evening and I heard a street evangelist holding forth. He was preaching on the subject, 'Bondage.' Sin he called Pharaoh. And he was hammering the hearers with texts from Exodus. The idea hit me. I hung up beside the curb till he was through preaching, then I invited him to take a ride with me in my car. And a wise old bird I found him to be! No hypocrite! Doing his best to help his fellow-men, but always hep! Never out of a city till I pulled him up here. Likes the country now. Going to be the regular preacher in my new town. No more robe-and-umbrella business, of course. That was my idea. I'm inclined to be a little circusy in my notions. He stood for it. The scheme helped him to put over what he couldn't have got away with by ordinary means."

Vaniman remembered those flashes of worldly wisdom in the Prophet, and was enlightened. His countenance revealed his thoughts.

"Had you guessing?" demanded the colonel. "Nothing like starting folks to guessing. Keeps up the interest. One by one Elias snipped the cords that bound the folks to the soil of this place. Did a fine job. They're going to thrive after they are transplanted. Even Squire Hexter is going to bring up the rear guard, after he has finished here with the loose ends of the law needed in the case."

"It's to be a clean sweep, Frank," the Squire affirmed. "Even Usial and his press; the new town will be in his legislative class." Then he looked long at Colonel Wincott, who was rocking on the legs of his chair.

"I know mighty well what you want to say to me, Squire Hexter," stated the object of the regard. "You don't need to say a word, though. I'll do the saying. Vaniman, you have had a raw deal. But you'll soon be through the woods. I'm going to have a bank in my new town. You're going to be the boss of it."

"Just a moment before you say anything, Frank," expostulated the Squire when Vaniman, choking with doubts and gratitude both, attempted to speak. "I propose to start at once for the shire town. I'll begin with the county attorney. I'll have your name cleared inside of twenty-four hours."

"And don't bother with any Dobbins for that job," declared the colonel. "Use my car. My chauffeur is hiding it in the bush a little ways from here. And now, Vaniman, give me all your attention," he went on, with the pride of a successful performer. "I'll tell you what's going to happen over across the line in my town. It's going to interest you. You have been a man of affairs and you can grasp what I'm saying."

But Vaniman did not seem to be grasping even that introduction of the subject. He had heard hurrying footsteps outside the house.

"You'll never listen to anything that will stir your blood like what I'm going to tell you of my plans for the future," insisted the colonel.

But a tremulous voice called: "Frank! Frank!"

Vaniman leaped from his chair and turned his back on the man who proposed to stir the blood of the listener.

Squire Hexter hurried to Colonel Wincott and whispered information which caused the master of The Promised Land to elevate his eyebrows understandingly.

"Great Caesar! Why, sure!" he blurted, and popped up out of his chair.

Following the Squire, he tiptoed to the door and stood on one side when the notary opened and peeped out.

"Vona!" called the Squire, gently. "The boy is in here. Come!"

She ran past them into the room.

Colonel Wincott ducked out and the Squire followed and closed the door. He closed it slowly, softly, reverently, and then turned a smiling face of compassionate understanding toward Xoa and the colonel.



CHAPTER XXXI

THROUGH THE GATES OF THE DAWN INTO "LIBERTY"

There was a hush in the Squire's house. The three who were in the sitting room discussed affairs, subduing their tones almost to whispers.

When somebody tramped on to the porch and pounded on the door, the interruption was startling.

The Squire went and opened the door and disclosed Deputy-Warden Bangs of the state prison. But when Bangs made a step forward the notary bulked himself in the doorway with all the dignity his modest size would permit.

"I'm led to believe that you have in this house an escaped convict, name of Vaniman," declared the officer.

"Don't your prison records show that the convict named Vaniman is officially dead, sir?"

"I'll admit that; but if what I have heard since I was routed out of my bed is so, those records will have to be revised."

"I have no control over your records," returned the Squire, grimly.

Mr. Bangs made another step forward.

"But I have full control over my own house, sir. You cannot come in."

"Do you stand in the way of a deputy warden of the state prison?"

"I certainly do until he presents himself in my door with a proper search warrant, instead of coming here on the strength of mere hearsay."

"I tried to get a warrant," the officer confessed. "But I can't locate the trial justice."

"I hear that he is moving," was the Squire's dry retort.

"You seem to be the only one in the place who isn't moving," said Bangs, craning his neck to peer past the keeper of the door.

"Oh, I'm simply delaying my departure a few days in order to close up some matters of business."

"Let me tell you that if you're concealing a convict in this house you'll have more business than what you plan on. I'm up here—"

"As you have reported to me and all others, you're up here to find two escaped prisoners, sir. Very well! They are not in my house. But I have heard from them. They were seen a very short time ago in the stretch of woods near here known as Baniman's Bower. If you hurry you may catch them."

Bangs displayed prompt interest. He showed more when the Squire added: "They may be already captured. I learned, also, that a man who has been a prison guard was in the same locality. You officials seem to be very vigilant!"

Mr. Bangs choked back some sort of a threatened explosion. He stood there, shifting from foot to foot. Then he blurted: "Say, you seem to be the most level-headed man in this town. I'll go chase those convicts if your tip is a straight one. But tell me! Am I having the nightmare, or are all these things really happening around here?"

However, Squire Hexter did not try to comfort the perturbed Mr. Bangs just then. The notary stepped out on the porch, closing his door behind him. He stared into the graying murk of the night and the fog. That fog was showing a light which was not that of the dawn. It was a spreading, baleful, reddening glare, and after a few moments it covered all the sky.

Then men began to shout. There was an especial uproar from one quarter. The Squire knew that in the direction of the hullabaloos were located the camps in which were lodged the imported workmen who had wrought into solid structure the plans of the mansion that Britt had held in pictured form before the eyes of Egypt.

The feet of running men pounded along the highway. Somebody cried, in clarion tones, "It's Tasp Britt's new house!"

The Squire ran into the road, and Bangs followed.

The notary hailed a little group of men who came rushing from the direction of the main part of the village. "Why aren't you bringing the tub? Fetch Hecla! Quick, men!"

"She's gone!" panted one of the group.

"Gone?"

"There wasn't any wagon left behind, Squire, and they had to haul that gold. They hove it into Hecly's water tank and formed a guard, and she's been a whole half hour gone!"

At that juncture a man came running to them from the direction of the fire. The Squire recognized him as the boss of the carpenters. "Mr. Britt is in that house. I saw him through a window. But it's a furnace from top to bottom."

The Squire opened his mouth as if query, urgently demanding utterance, had pried apart his jaws. "How do you think the fire—" But he promptly closed his mouth and set his lips tightly. He shook his head with the manner of one who did not require information. Then he turned and hurried to his house.

Colonel Wincott and Xoa were on the porch, lighted by the great, red torch whose radiance was flung afar by the reflector aid of the fog.

"It's Britt's house—and Britt is in it," he told them. "Colonel, your man Friday had over many times one text that fits this thing. 'Can a man take fire into his bosom, and his clothing not be burned?'"

He went to Xoa and patted her arm. "Better go inside, mother. It isn't a good thing to be looking at. Where are the children?"

Frank and Vona answered that question by appearing in the door. They were honestly affected by the news the Squire gave them. Vona hid her face against the young man's breast.

"It seems to be a self-operating proposition," stated Colonel Wincott. "And about all anybody can do is to let it flicker!"

Vaniman was clearly not the captain of his soul in those distressing circumstances. He was displaying symptoms of collapse. Squire Hexter noted and acted.

"Wincott, this boy must not stay here in this town any longer. If that prison guard runs afoul of him before I get matters under way at the shire, Frank will be galloped back to his cell in order to make a grandstand play. I've got to be going. Take Frank under your wing. Get him over the border."

"Surest thing in the world!" declared the hearty colonel. "Got a hitch?"

"My horse and double-seater. Come along to the stable—you, too, Frank. Xoa, bring him one of my coats and a hat!"

Vona leaped away from her lover and faced the Squire. "I shall go with him, wherever he may go!" she said, with the fire of one who expected to meet opposition.

But the Squire grinned. "Why, girl, of course you'll go! I wouldn't grab life-saving medicine away from a sick man. Take your mother along, and God bless the whole of you on the way."

That way was toward the north, on the heels of the wains and the flocks and the herds and the men and women and children of the migrating population of Egypt.

Colonel Wincott occupied the front seat with Mrs. Harnden. By the time he had teamed the Squire's fat little nag along for a mile he had succeeded in calming Mrs. Harnden's hysterical spirits. He induced her to quit looking over her shoulder at the great torch that lighted luridly the heavens above the deserted town. "It's a pillar of fire by night, madam, as you say! But that's as far as it fits in with the Exodus sentiment. It's behind us—and behind us let it stay."

At the end of another mile Mrs. Harnden was extolling the capability of her husband.

"I've heard about him," said the colonel. "Optimist? So am I. Get in touch with him and tell him to come to my new town. He'll have something that he can really optimize over."

Colonel Wincott sedulously kept his attention off the two who rode on the back seat; he obliged Mrs. Harnden to do the same.

After a time the trotting nag overtook the trailers of the procession. The colonel hailed and passed one wain after another, steadily calling, "Gangway!" They recognized his authority; they obeyed; they gave him half the road.

He had an especially hearty greeting for the hand tub, Hecla, trundling on its little wheels, men guarding its flanks, men pulling on the rope by which it was propelled. Ike Jones was one of the guards. He gave the colonel's party a return greeting by a flourish on the "tramboon."

"The stage starts from your town this morning, Colonel! Runs express through Egypt."

"Good idea! Nothing but scenery left there," agreed the colonel. "Take good care of that gold, boys! The receiver of the Egypt Trust Company will be able to cut some melon!"

But Prof. Almon Waite, toddling behind the treasure, had a metaphor of his own. "This gold will gloriously pave the streets of the New Jerusalem, sir!"

They went on in the growing dawn, threading their way among the vehicles and the folks on foot.

In all their progress they met only one party headed in the opposite direction, coming back toward the town that had been deserted. Vaniman beheld Bartley Wagg teaming along the two convicts. They were tied together and he was threatening them with a club. They merely flashed on the screen of the mist and were out of sight. It was evident that Mr. Wagg had determined to grab a couple of straws, at any rate, in a desperate attempt to buoy himself officially in the flood of his misfortunes.

The sun was burning away the mists when Colonel Wincott's turnout topped a hill; he waved his whip to invite the attention of his passengers. "There she lies, folks! I've been calling it my town. From now on it's our town. Some daisy on the breast of nature, eh?"

There was a lake on the facets of whose ripples the sunlight danced. White water tumbled down cascades. Beside the lake there was a nest of portable houses. "Homes till we build bigger ones," explained the master of The Promised Land. "I'm giving building lots free. The class of settlers warrants it!"

Then Colonel Wincott called their attention to something else—something that was not visible. He wrinkled his nose, but his sniff indicated gusto. "Smell it? It's food for the Children of Israel. Not manna. But it will fit the occasion, I hope. It's a barbecue. A whole ox and all the fixings."

Then they came to a high arch, fashioned from boughs of fir and spruce trees. The wains were rolling under it.

Frank and Vona lifted up their eyes. At the top of the arch, in great letters that were formed of pine tassels fastened to a stretch of canvas, was the word, "LIBERTY."

"The name of our new town," said the colonel.

But for the two on the rear seat it was more than the name of a town. Vaniman pressed the girl's trembling hand between his palms. They looked at each other through the lenses of grateful tears.

Just inside the arch stood Prophet Elias, welcoming all comers. He had put off his robe and had laid aside his fantastic umbrella. He wore the sober garb of a dominic, and his face, above his tie of white lawn, displayed shrewd and complete appreciation of the occasion.

He took off his hat and bowed low when Colonel Wincott's party passed under the arch. And this sonorous proclamation followed Frank and Vona:

"'And I will bring the blind by a way that they knew not; I will lead them in paths that they have not known; I will make darkness light before them, and crooked things straight. These things will I do unto them, and not forsake them.'"

"Amen!" responded Colonel Wincott, fervently.

The two persons on the rear seat did not speak. In silence they had reverently prostrated themselves at a shrine of thanksgiving in their souls.

THE END