people. The title to every piece of real estate in the county depended on those records, of which no complete abstract had been made. Let Simrall get its hands on the books, and the county officials would have to surrender.
Hall returned to Cottrell's office from a hurried dash across to the bank with some last sheaves of papers, to find Elizabeth standing before the pile of broad, flat books in which land titles were recorded. This array of records had grown fast in the past six months of the county's history; heaped as they two had stacked them in the hope of being able to get them into the bank vault, the pile was almost half as high as Elizabeth, three tiers wide.
"This is likely to be a very serious affair," Hall said.
"I'm afraid there's going to be a terrible fight!" she replied. She was standing with her hand on the books, in a pose of affectionate protection. Her face was very pale.
"Your father's in no condition to take a hand in this, but he'll not listen to anything. He's running on the pressure of excitement, likely to snap like an icicle any minute."
"They won't let me have a gun!" she complained indignantly. "Dad says I must go home, it's no place for a woman, but I'd be more good to them than the best man in the bunch, except him. They're not fighting men, Dr. Hall."
"No, that's the pity of it. They'll throw their lives away in this foolish quarrel, fighting for so little. This old dump! The whole thing involved isn't worth the life of one man, much less five or six—maybe more—that are
