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Updated: June 17, 2025
It was being read aloud to groups here and there, and once Keast overheard the words, "Say, I wonder if this is true, after all?" "Well, and even if it was," cried Keast, turning upon the speaker, "we should be the last ones to kick. In any case, it was done for our benefit. It elected the Ranchers' Commission." "A lot of benefit we got out of the Ranchers' Commission," retorted the other.
Promptly these chairs were filled up with members of the League, the audience cheering as certain well-known figures made their appearance Garnett of the Ruby ranch, Gethings of the San Pablo, Keast of the ranch of the same name, Chattern of the Bonanza, elderly men, bearded, slow of speech, deliberate. Garnett opened the meeting; his speech was plain, straightforward, matter-of-fact.
"Yes, yes," cried the half-dozen men who crowded around Magnus, "yes, that's what we want him to do." Keast turned to Magnus. "Why, what's all this, Governor?" he exclaimed. "You've got to answer that. Hey? why don't you give 'em the lie?" "I I," Magnus loosened the collar about his throat "it is a lie. I will not stoop I would not would be it would be beneath my my it would be beneath me."
No one knew what to say or where to look. Garnett, with a laboured attempt at nonchalance, murmured: "I see. Well, that's what I was trying to get at. Yes, I see." "Well," said Gethings at length, bestirring himself, "I guess I'LL go home." There was a movement. The group broke up, the men making for the door. One by one they went out. The last to go was Keast.
"Derrick, Derrick," thundered the Opera House. Keast wheeled about. Where was Magnus? He was not in sight upon the stage. He had disappeared. Crowding through the throng of Leaguers, Keast got from off the stage into the wings. Here the crowd was no less dense. Nearly every one had a copy of the "Mercury."
"She'm a fitty maid," muttered Archelaus. "A fitty maid! Listen to the great bufflehead! She's fitty enough but with nothing to her but the clothes on her back. You've no call to be leading a maid toall yet. S'pose you was ever master of Cloom, what would you be wanting with Jenifer Keast?" "Master o' Cloom! That's plum foolishness.
The silence widened, broken only by the sound of torn paper as Annixter, Osterman, old Broderson, Garnett, Keast, Gethings, Chattern, and Dabney opened and read their letters. They were all to the same effect, almost word for word like the Governor's. Only the figures and the proper names varied. In some cases the price per acre was twenty-two dollars. In Annixter's case it was thirty.
Dabney, standing to one side, overlooked and forgotten, continued to sip steadily at his glass, solemn, reserved. Garnett of the Ruby rancho, Keast from the ranch of the same name, Gethings of the San Pablo, and Chattern of the Bonanza, leaned back in their chairs, their waist-coats unbuttoned, their legs spread wide, laughing they could not tell why.
The gleam of the thousands of the "Mercury" extras was like the flash of white caps on a troubled sea. Keast faced the audience. "Liars," he shouted, striving with all the power of his voice to dominate the clamour, "liars and slanderers. Your paper is the paid organ of the corporation. You have not one shadow of proof to back you up.
Genslinger, after pocketing the Governor's hush money, had "sold him out." Keast, one quiver of indignation, made his way back upon the stage. The Leaguers were in wild confusion. Half the assembly of them were on their feet, bewildered, shouting vaguely. From proscenium wall to foyer, the Opera House was a tumult of noise.
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