Page:The Angel of Lonesome Hill (1910).djvu/28

 the many, guiding a few into his private office. Dale listened; now it was an introduction and a message to an old friend in the West. Then a decisive ""No" dashed some hope of patronage; again, it was a discussion of poetry, aërial navigation, or the relics of the Aztecs. It was a long stride from "Lonesome Hill," and for the time Dale was novelty's captive. He glanced round the room. It was not as fine as the directors' office of the Point Elizabeth Bank! Above the mantel—the place of honor—was the painting of a martyr. He wondered whether another stroke of the brush would have brought a smile to the face, or an expression of sadness. The hands were very large—they had once broken iron bands.

In one corner was a shot-gun;