He, too, raised his hat, or rather
swung it from his head in a devil-may-care way, and overdid his
salutation. He did not speak. The priest's face was very grave, if not a
little resentful. His salutation was reserved.
"The tyranny of gold," he murmured, "and without the mind or energy that
created it. Felix was no name for him. Ingolby is a builder, perhaps a
jerry-builder; but he builds."
He looked across the prairie towards the young man in the buggy.
"Sure, he is a builder. He has the Cortez eye. He sees far off, and plans
big things. But Felix Marchand there--"
He stopped short.
"Such men must be, perhaps," he added. Then, after a moment, as he gazed
round again upon the land of promise which he had loved so long, he
murmured as one murmurs a prayer:
"Thou suferedst men to ride over our heads: we went through fire and
water, and Thou broughtest us out into a wealthy place."
BOOK I
I. "THE DRUSES ARE UP!"
II. THE WHISPER FROM BEYOND
III. CONCERNING INGOLBY AND THE TWO TOWNS
IV. THE COMING OF JETHRO FAWE
V. "BY THE RIVER STARZKE....IT WAS SO DONE"
VI. THE UNGUARDED FIRES
VII. IN WHICH THE PRISONER GOES FREE
CHAPTER I
"THE DRUSES ARE UP!"
"Great Scott, look at her! She's goin' to try and take 'em!" exclaimed
Osterhaut, the Jack-of-all-trades at Lebanon.
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