JOSEPH A.ALT5HELER
THE LIBRARY
OF
THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA
LOS ANGELES
THE
CANDIDATE
A POLITICAL ROMANCE
BY
JOSEPH A. ALTSHELER
HARPER & BROTHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
Copyright, 1905, by HARPBR & BROTHERS.
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
I-B
THE CANDIDATE
THE NOMINEE
THE huge convention - hall still rang with the
thunders of applause, and most of the delegates
were on their feet shouting or waving their hats,
when Harley slipped from his desk and made his way
quietly to the little side-door leading from the stage.
It was all over now but the noise; after a long and
desperate fight Grayson, a young lawyer, with little
more than a local reputation, had been nominated
by his party for the Presidency of the United States,
and Harley, alert, eager, and fond of dramatic effects,
intended to be the first who should tell him the sur
prising fact.
He paused a moment, with his hand on the door,
and, looking out upon the hall with its multitude
of hot, excited faces, ran quickly over the events of
the last three or four days. Ten thousand people had
sat there, hour after hour, waiting for the result, and
now the result had come. The rival parties had
entered their conventions, full of doubt and appre
hension. There was a singular dearth of great men;
the old ones were all dead or disabled, and the new
ones had not appeared ; the nation was conscious, too,
i
633126
THE CANDIDATE
of a new feeling, and all were bound to recognize
it; the sense of dependency upon the Old World in
certain matters which applied to the mental state
rather than anything material was almost gone; the
democracy had grown more democratic and the
republic was more republican; within the nation
itself the West was taking a greater prominence, and
the East did not begrudge it. It was felt by every
body in either party that it would be wiser to nominate
a Western man, and, the first having done so, the
second, as all knew it must, now followed the good
example.
Moreover, both conventions had nominated "dark
horses," but the second nominee was the "darker"
of the two. James Madison Grayson, affectionately
called Jimmy Grayson by his neighbors and ad
mirers, was quite young, without a gray hair in his
head, tall, powerfully built, smooth-shaven, and with
honest eyes that gazed straight into yours. He was
known as a brave man, with fine oratorical powers
and a winning personality, but he had come to the
convention merely as a delegate, and without any
thought of securing the nomination for himself. Not
a single vote had been instructed for him, but in
that lay his opportunity. All the conspicuous
candidates were weak; good men in themselves, a
solid political objection could be raised against every
one of them, and for a while the voting was scattered
and desultory. Then Grayson began to attract at
tention; as a delegate he had spoken two or three
times, always briefly, but with grace and to the point,
and the people were glad both to see him and to
hear him.
At last a far-sighted old man from the same state
knew that the moment had come when the convention,
THE CANDIDATE
staggering about in the dark, could be led easily along
any road that seemed the path of light. He men
tioned the name of Grayson, putting it forward
mildly as a suggestion that he would withdraw at
the first opposition, but his very mildness warded
off attack. Received rather lightly at first, the sug
gestion soon made a strong appeal to the delegates.
Nothing could be urged against Grayson ; he was quite
young, it was true, but youth was needed to make
a great campaign the odds were heavily in favor
of the other party. Nor were there lacking those who,
expecting defeat, said that a young man could bear it
better than an old one, and a beating now might
train him for a victory four years hence.
Grayson himself was surprised when he heard the
report, nor could he ever be convinced that he would
be nominated ; he regarded the whole thing as absurd,
a few votes, no more, might be cast for him, but, as
was fit and decent, he withdrew from the hall. All
those whose names were before the convention were
expected to remain at home or elsewhere in the city,
and Jimmy Grayson and his wife stayed quietly in
their rooms at the hotel.
Harley had believed this evening that the nomina
tion of Grayson was at hand. It was an intuitive
sense, a sort of premonition that the battalions
were closing in for the final conflict, and he did not
doubt the result. He had just returned from a war
on the other side of the world, where he had been
present as the correspondent of a great New York
journal on many battle-fields, and he often noticed
this strained, breathless feeling that the moment had
come, just before the combat was joined. Now this
convention-hall was none the less a battle-field though
the weapons were ballots, not bullets, and Harley
3
THE CANDIDATE
believed in his intuition. At midnight the flood- tide
swept in, bearing Gray son on its crest, and, when they
saw that he was the man, everybody flocked to him,
making the nomination unanimous by a rising vote.
Harley now stood a moment at the door, listening
to the cheers as they swelled again, then he stepped out
and ran swiftly down the street. A fat policeman,
taking him for a fleeing pickpocket, shouted to him to
stop, but he flitted by and was gone.
It was only two or three blocks to the hotel, where
Mr. Grayson sat quietly in his room, and Harley was
running swiftly, but in the minute or two that elapsed
much passed through his mind. After his long stay
abroad he had returned with a renewed sense, not
alone of the power and might of his own country, but
also of its goodness ; it was here, and here alone, that
all careers were open to all ; nowhere else in the world
could a relatively obscure young lawyer have been
put forward, and peacefully, too, for the headship of
ninety million people. It was this thought that
thrilled him, and it was why he wished to be the first
who should tell the young lawyer of it. He had made
the acquaintance of Jimmy Grayson the day before;
the two had talked for a while about public questions,
and each had felt that it was the beginning of a
friendship, so he had no hesitation now in making
himself an unannounced herald.
He ran into the hotel, darted up the stairway
Jimmy Grayson's rooms were on the first floor and
knocked at the door of the nominee. A light shone
from the transom, and he heard a quick, strong step
approaching. Then the door was thrown open by
Mr. Grayson himself, and Mrs. Grayson, who stood
in the centre of the room, looked with inquiry at the
correspondent.
4
THE CANDIDATE
"Why, Mr. Harley, I'm glad to see you," said Mr.
Grayson, with a welcoming tone in his voice. "Come
in, but I warn you that you cannot interview me any
further. I'm not worth it; I've told you all I know."
Harley said nothing, but stepped into the room,
closing the door behind him. He saw that they yet
knew nothing there had been no messenger, no
telephone call, and the news was his to tell. He
bowed to Mrs. Grayson, and then he felt a moment of
embarrassment, but his long experience and natural
poise came quickly to his aid.
"I do want to interview you, Mr. Grayson," he
said, quietly; "and it is upon a subject to which we
did not allude in our former talk."
Mr. Grayson glanced at his wife, and her look, reply
ing to his, indicated the same puzzling state. Both
knew that the chief correspondent of one of the
greatest journals in the world would not leave a
Presidential convention in the hour of birth to secure
an irrelevant interview.
" If I can serve you, Mr. Harley, I shall be glad to
do so," said Jimmy Grayson, somewhat dryly; "but
I really do not see how I can."
" I am quite sure that you can," said Harley, with
emphasis.
He listened a moment, but he did not hear any
step in the hall nor the jingling of any telephone
bell. Both Mr. and Mrs. Grayson waited expectantly,
curious to see what he had in mind.
"If you were to be nominated for the Presidency, I
should like to tell the Gazette what your programme
would be that is, what sort of a campaign you
would conduct," said Harley, deliberately.
Mr. Grayson laughed and glanced again at his wife.
" It is a wise rule for a man in public life never to
5
THE CANDIDATE
answer hypothetical questions; of that I am sure, Mr.
Harley," he said.
"I am sure of it, too," said Harley.
Jimmy Gray son bit his lip. It seemed to him
that the correspondent would make a jest, and the
hour was unfitting.
"I shall answer your question when I am nomi
nated," he said.
"Then you will answer it now," said Harley.
A sudden flush passed over Mr. Grayson's face and
left it white. Mrs. Grayson trembled and glanced
again at her husband, still in a puzzled state.
"Your meaning is not clear, Mr. Harley," he said.
"It should be. When I left the convention-hall,
two minutes ago, they had just made the nomination
unanimous. I wished to be the first to tell the news,
and I have had my wish."
The eyes of the nominee looked straight into those
of Harley, but the correspondent did not flinch. It
was obvious that he was telling the truth.
"The notifying committee will be here in a few
minutes," he said. "Ah, I hear their step on the
stair now."
The tread of men walking quickly and the sound of
voices raised in eagerness came to the room. The
powerful figure of Jimmy Grayson trembled slightly,
then grew rigid.
"I did not dream of it," he said, as if to himself;
"nor have I now sought to take it from others."
"Nor have you done so," said Harley, boldly; "be
cause it belonged to no man."
Mrs. Grayson stepped forward, as if in fear that her
husband was about to be taken from her, because at
that moment the volume of the voices and the
trampling increased and paused at her door, Then
6
THE CANDIDATE
the crowd poured into the room and hailed the
victor.
Harley slipped to one side, and no one in the com
mittee knew that the nominee had been notified al
ready, but the correspondent never ceased to watch
Jimmy Grayson. He saw how the nature of the
man rose to the great responsibility that had been
put upon him, how he nerved himself for his mighty
task. He stood among them all, cool, dignified, and
ready. Harley was proud that this was one of his
countrymen, and when his last despatch was filed
that night he wired to his editor in New York:
"Please send me on the campaign with Grayson. I
think it is going to be a great one." And back came
the answer: "Stay with him until it is all over,
election night."
The eyes of Harley, like those of so many of his
countrymen, had always been turned eastward. To
him New York was the ultimate expression of America,
and beyond the great city lay the influence of Europe,
of that Old World to which belonged the most of art
and literature. The books that he read were written
chiefly by Europeans, and the remainder by the men
of New England and New York. He had never put
it into so many words, even mentally, but he had a
definite impression that the great world of affairs
was composed of central and western Europe and a
half-dozen Northern coast states of the American
Union; beyond this centre of light lay a shadow
land, growing darker as the distance from the central
rays increased, inhabited by people, worthy no doubt,
but merely forming a chorus for those who had the
speaking parts.
The course of Harley's life confirmed him in this
opinion, which perhaps was due more to literature
7
THE CANDIDATE
than to anything else. With his eyes fixed on New
York, the desire to go there followed, and when he
succeeded, early, and became the correspondent of a
great journal, he was soon immersed in the affairs of
that world which seemed the world of action to him ;
and, being so much occupied thus, he forgot the
regions which apparently lay in the shadow, including
the greater portion of his own country.
Hence the two great Presidential conventions, in
each of which Western influences were paramount,
and in each of which a Western man was chosen,
created upon him a new and surprising impression.
He found himself in the presence of unexpected
forces; he became aware that there was another
way of looking at things, and this powerful sensation
was deepened by the personality of Mr. Grayson, in
whom he saw intuitively that there was something
fresh, original, and strong; he seemed less hackneyed
and more joyous than the types that he found in the
old states of the Union or the Old World, and, be
cause of this, the interest of Harley, whose mind had
a singularly keen and inquiring quality, was aroused;
the regions that apparently lay in the shadow might
have enough light, after all, and, seeing before him a
campaign not less exciting than a war, he resolved
to stay in it until the last battle was fought.
He took out the telegram from his editor and read
it over again with keen satisfaction. "Out of one
war and into another," he murmured. The con
ventions had been held early; it was now only the
first week in June, and the election would be in the
first week of November ; before him lay five months of
stress and perhaps storm, but he thought of it only
with pleasure.
Harley always travelled light, carrying only two
8
THE CANDIDATE
valises, and an hour sufficed for his packing. Then,
like the old campaigner that he was, he slept soundly,
and early the next morning he went again to the
hotel at which the Graysons were staying. He felt
a little hesitation in sending up a card so soon, know
ing what swarms of people Mr. Grayson had been
compelled to receive and how badly he must stand
in need of rest, but there was no help for it.
While he sat in the huge lobby waiting the return
of the boy, the hum of many voices about him rose
almost to a roar, varied by the rustling of many
newspapers. The place was filled with men, talking
over the thrilling events of the night before, the
nomination and the nominee, while every newspaper
bore upon its front page a great picture of the new
candidate.
The boy came back with a message that Mr. Gray-
son would see him ; and Harley, a minute later, was
knocking at the door, which the candidate himself
opened. This man, who was his own usher, was the
nominee of a great party, he might become the
President of the United States of ninety million
people, of what was in nearly every material sense
the first power in the world; and yet Harley, when in
Europe, seeking information from the youngest and
least attache of a legation, had been compelled to go
through an infinite amount of form and flummery.
The contrast was lasting.
"Come in," said Mr. Grayson, courteously, and
Harley at once acted upon the invitation. Mrs.
Grayson, at the same moment, came from the inner
room, quiet and self-contained, and Harley bowed
with respect.
"I dare say there is nothing you wish to ask me
which a lady should not hear," said Mr, Grayson,
9
THE CANDIDATE
with a slight smile. "Mrs. Gray son is my chief
political adviser."
"It is no secret," replied Harley, also smiling. "I
have merely come to tell you that the Gazette, my
paper, has instructed me to keep watch over you
from now until election night, and to describe at
once and at great length for its readers every one of
your wicked deeds. So I am here to tell you that I
wish to go along with you. You are public property,
you know, and you can't escape."
"I know that," said Jimmy Grayson, heartily;
"and I do not seek to escape. I am glad the repre
sentative of the Gazette is to be you. I do not know
what course your paper will take, but I am sure that
we shall be friends."
"The Gazette is independent; its editor is likely to
attack you for some things and to praise you for
others. But I am here to tell the news."
"Then we are comrades for a long journey," said
Jimmy Grayson.
Thus it was settled simply and easily by the two
who were most concerned, and Harley throughout
the little interview was struck by the difference be
tween this man and many other famous men with
whom in the course of business he had held jour
nalistic dealings. Here was a lack of conventionality,
and an even stronger note of simplicity and freshness.
The candidate, with his new honors, still held himself
as one of the people, it never occurred to him that
he might assume a pose and the public would accept
it; he was democracy personified, and he was such
because he was unconscious of it. His perfect free
dom of manner, which Harley had not liked at first,
now became more attractive.
"We leave at eleven o'clock for my home," said
10
THE CANDIDATE
Mr. Grayson, "and arrive there to-morrow morning.
I have some preparations to make, but I shall begin
the campaign a day or two later."
"I intend to go with you to your town," said
Harley. "You know the compact; I cannot let you
out of my sight."
Mrs. Grayson, a grave, quiet woman, spoke for the
first time.
"You shall come along, not merely as a sentinel,
but as one of our little party, if you will, on one
condition," she said.
"What is that?"
" On condition that you come to our house and take
dinner with us to-morrow."
Harley gave her a grateful look. He felt that the
candidate's wife approved of him, and he liked the
approval of those who evidently knew how to think.
And it would be far pleasanter to travel with Jimmy
Grayson as a friend than as one suspected.
"I am honored, Mrs. Grayson," he said, "and I
shall be happy to come."
Then he left them, and when he passed into the hall
he saw that the burden of greatness was being thrust
already upon the Grayson family, as callers of various
types and with various requests were seeking their
rooms. But he hurried back to his own hotel, and
as it was some distance away he took the street-car.
There he was confronted by long rows of newspapers
which hid the faces of men, and whenever a front page
was turned towards him the open countenance of
Mr. Grayson looked out at him with smiling eyes.
Everybody was reading the account of the con
vention, and now and then they discussed it; they
spoke of the candidate familiarly; he was "Jimmy"
Grayson to them rarely did they call him Mr,
ii
THE CANDIDATE
Grayson ; but there was no disrespect or disesteem in
their use of the diminutive "Jimmy." They merely
regarded him as one of themselves, and their position
in the matter differed in no wise from that of Mr.
Grayson; it was a matter of course with both. To
Harley, fresh from other lands, it seemed in the first
breath singular, and yet in the second he liked it;
the easy give-and-take promoted the smoothness of
life, and men might assume false values, but they were
not able to keep them. His thoughts returned for a
moment to the least little attach^ whose manner
was more important than that of a Presidential
nominee.
Harley, with his two valises, was at the station
somewhat ahead of time, as he wished to see Mr. and
Mrs. Grayson arrive, curious to know in what sort of
state or lack of it they would come.
Mr. Grayson's intention of going at once to his
home was not published in the press, and there was
only the ordinary crowd at the station, some com
ing, some leaving, but all bearing upon their faces
the marks of haste and impatience. As the people
hurried to and fro, the sound of many tongues arose.
There was nearly every accent of Europe, but the
American rose over and enveloped all. Many writers
from other lands, seeking only the bad, had pro
nounced the Babel coarse, vulgar, and sordid; but
Harley, seeking the good, saw in it men and women
toiling to better their condition in the world, and
that fact he knew was not bad.
Through the station windows he saw the tall
buildings rise floor on floor, and there was a clang of
car -bells that never ceased. In the fresh morning
air it was inspiriting, and Harley felt himself a part of
the crowd. He was no hermit. Life and activity
12
THE CANDIDATE
and the spectacle of people filled with hope always
pleased him.
An ordinary cab arrived, and Mr. and Mrs. Grayson,
alighting from it, bought their tickets at the window,
just like anybody else, and then sought inconspicuous
seats in the corner of the waiting-room, as their train
would not be ready for five minutes. In the hasten
ing crowd they were not noticed at first, but even in
the dusk of the corner the smoothly shaven face and
massive features of Mr. Grayson were soon noticed.
His picture had been staring at them all from the
front page of the newspapers, and here was the reality,
too like to be overlooked. There was a sudden delay
in the crowd; the two streams, one flowing outward
and the other inward, wavered, then stopped and
began to stare at the candidate, not intrusively, but
with a kindly curiosity that it considered legitimate.
Harley had quietly joined the Graysoms, and they
gave him a sincere welcome. The people unfamiliar
with his face began to speculate audibly on his iden
tity.
The crowd in the station, reinforced from many
side -doors, thickened, and Mr. and Mrs. Grayson,
under the gaze of so many eyes, became uneasy and
shy. Harley, who had been made a member of their
party, found himself sharing this awkward feeling,
and he was glad to hear the announcement that the
train was ready.
The three abreast moved towards the gate, and
the crowd opened a way just wide enough, down
which they marched, still under the human battery
of a thousand eyes. To Harley, although little of
this gaze was meant for him, the sensation was
indescribable. It was something to be an object
of so much curiosity, but the thrill was more than
13
offset by the weight that it put upon one's ease of
manner.
He saw many of the people it was a curious
manifestation reach out and touch the candidate's
sleeve lightly as he passed. But Mr. Grayson, if he
knew it, took no notice and marched straight ahead,
all expression discharged from his face. Harley saw
that this was the disguise eminent public men must
assume upon occasions, and he was willing that they
should keep the task.
When the great iron gate leading to his train was
closed behind him, Harley felt a mighty sense of re
lief. It seemed to him that he had run a gantlet
not much inferior to that through which the Indians
put the captive backwoodsmen, and the dark -red
walls of the car rose before him a fortress of safety.
It was an ordinary Pullman, and Mr. and Mrs.
Grayson had not secured the drawing-room, but the
usual berths like Harley's, and he joined them in
their seats. He felt now a certain pleasure in the
situation. The pressure of circumstances was mak
ing him, in a sense and for the time being, a mem
ber of their family. He was glad that the other cor
respondents would wait to join the candidate at his
home, as it gave him a greater chance to establish
those personal relations needful on a long campaign
that must be made together.
The whistle blew, the train moved, and they passed
through miles of city, and then through suburbs
growing thinner until they melted away into the
clean, green prairie, and Harley, opening the win
dow, was glad to breathe the unvexed air that came
across a thousand miles of the West. He leaned
back in his seat and luxuriously watched the quietly
rolling country, tender with the breath of spring, as
THE CANDIDATE
it spun past. That mighty West of which he had
thought so little seemed to reach out with its arms
and invite him, and he was glad to go.
Presently he was aware of an unusual movement
of people down the aisles of the car, accompanied by
a certain slowing of the pace when they passed the
seats in which the Graysons and he sat. They were
coming from the other cars, too, and now and then
the aisle would choke up a little, but in a moment
the shifting figures would relieve it, and the endless
procession of faces moved on.
The Graysons, following Harley's example, were
gazing out of the window at the cheerful country,
but the correspondent knew that Mr. Grayson was
fully conscious of this human stream, and that he
himself was the cause of it. Yet he lost none of his
good temper even when some, venturing further,
asked if he were not the nominee, adding that it was
a pride to them to meet him and speak to him. In
fact, the change from silence to conversation was a
relief to Mr. Grayson, varying the monotony of that
fixed gaze to which he had been subjected so long,
and it was now that 'Harley saw him in a most favor
able guise. His consciousness of a great talent did
not interfere with a perfect democracy; it did not
cause him to assume an air that said to these peo
ple, "I am better than you, keep your distance," but
he gave the impression of ability solely through his
simplicity of manner and the ease with which he
adapted himself to the caliber of the person who
spoke to him.
Thus the train swung westward hour after hour,
and the procession through the car never ceased. The
manner of the candidate did not change; however
weary he may have grown, he was always affable,
THE CANDIDATE
but not gushing, and Harley, watching keenly, judged
that the impression he made was always favorable.
He strove, too, to interpret this manner and to read
the mind behind it. Was Mr. Grayson really great or
merely a man of ready speech and pleasing address?
Harley was willing to admit that the latter were
qualities in themselves not far from great, but on
the main contention he reserved his judgment. He
was still divided in his opinions, sometimes approv
ing the complete democracy of the candidate and
sometimes condemning. He had been born in the
South, in a border state, and he grew up there
amid many of the forms and formalities of the old
school, and the associations of youth are not easily
lost. Nor had a subsequent residence in the East
brushed them away. This world of the West was
still, in many respects, new to him.
He ate luncheon in the dining-car with the Gray-
sons, and he noticed the bubbling joy of the black
waiter who served them, and who showed two rows
of white teeth in a perpetual smile. Harley ap
preciated him so much that he doubled his tip, but,
as they were still watched by many eyes in the din
ing-car, he felt a certain nervousness in handling his
knife and fork, as if the penalty of greatness, even
by association, were too heavy for him. Once his
eyes caught those of Mrs. Grayson, and a faint, whim
sical smile passed over her face, a smile so infectious,
despite its faintness, that Harley was compelled to
reply in like fashion. It told him that she under
stood his constraint, and that she, too, felt it, but
Harley doubted whether it was in like degree, as he
believed that in the main women are better fitted
than men to endure such ordeals. Mr. Grayson him
self apparently took no notice.
16
THE CANDIDATE
Harley returned to their car with the Graysons,
but in the afternoon he detached himself somewhat,
and came in touch with the fluctuating crowd that
passed down the aisle it was always a part of his
duty, as well as his inclination, to know the thoughts
and feelings of outsiders, because it was outsiders
who made the world, and it was from them, too,
that the insiders came.
Harley found here that the chief motive as yet
was curiosity; the campaign had not entered upon
its sharp and positive state, and the personality of
Mr. Grayson and of his opponent still remained to be
denned clearly.
The train sped westward through the granary of
the world, cutting in an almost direct line across the
mighty valley of the Mississippi, and they were still
hundreds of miles away from the Grayson home.
In going west both parties had gone very far west,
and the two candidates not only lived beyond the
Mississippi, but beyond the Missouri as well.
The prairies were in their tenderest green, and the
young grass bent lightly before a gentle west wind.
In a sky of silky blue little clouds floated and trailed
off here and there into patches of white like drifting
snow, and Harley unconsciously fell to watching
them and wondering where they went.
The sun, a huge red ball, sank in the prairie, twi
light fell, the ordeal of the dining-car was repeated,
and not long afterwards Harley sought his bed in the
swaying berth. The next morning they were in the
home town, and there were a band and a reception
committee, and Harley slipped quietly away to his
hotel, being reminded first by the Graysons that he
was to take dinner with them.
He spent most of the day wandering about the
i7
THE CANDIDATE
town, gathering hitherto unnoticed facts about the
early life of Mr. James Grayson, which in the after
noon he despatched eastward. Then he prepared for
dinner, but here he was confronted by a serious prob
lem should one so far west wear evening clothes or
not ? But he decided at last in the affirmative, feeling
that it would be the safe course, and, hiding the for
mality of his raiment under a light overcoat, he went
forth into the street. Five minutes' walk took him to
the house of Mr. Grayson, which stood in the out
skirts, a red brick structure two stories in height,
plain and comfortable, with a well-shaded lawn about
it. It was now quite dark, but lights shone from
several windows, and Harley, without hesitation,
rang the bell.
n
THE MAID
HARLEY'S ring was not answered at once, and
as he stood on the step he glanced back at the
city, which, in the dark, showed only the formless
bulk of houses and the cold electric lights here and
there. Then he heard a light step, and the door was
thrown open. He handed his card to the maid,
merely saying, "Mr. and Mrs. Grayson," and waited
to be shown into the parlor. But the girl, whose
face he could not see, as the hall was dimly lighted,
held it in her hand, looking first at the name and
then at him. Harley, feeling a slight impatience,
stepped inside and said:
"I assure you that I am the real owner of it that
is, of the name on the card."
"What proof have you?" she asked, calmly.
Harley had heard recently many phases of the
servant-girl question, and this development of it
amused him. She must be one of those ignorant and
stubborn foreigners a Swede or a German.
"Suppose you take the proof for granted and risk
it," he said. "Mr. and Mrs. Grayson can quickly
decide for you, and tell you whether I am right."
"They have gone out for a little walk," she said,
still standing in the way, "and so many strange peo
ple are coming here now that I don't know whether to
show you in or not. Maybe you are a reporter?"
THE CANDIDATE
"Well, and what then?"
"Or worse; perhaps you are a photographer."
"If I am, you can see that I have no camera."
"You might have a little one hidden under your
overcoat."
" It is night, and cameras are used in the sunshine."
"We have electric lights."
Harley began to feel provoked. There were limits
to perverseness, or should be.
"I am expected to dinner by Mr. and Mrs. Gray-
son," he said. "Will you kindly cease to keep me
waiting and show me in? I shall not steal any of
the furniture."
The maid was annoyingly calm.
"Mr. and Mrs. Grayson have not yet returned from
a little walk which they were afraid to undertake
until it grew dark," she said. "But I think I'll risk
it and show you in if you will hold up your hand and
swear that you haven't a camera hidden under your
overcoat."
Harley's sense of humor came to his aid, and he
held up his hand.
"I do solemnly swear," he said.
He tried to see the face of this maid, who showed
a perversity that was unequalled in an experience by
no means limited, but she stood in the duskiest part
of the dim hall, and he failed. He knew merely that
she was tall and slender, and when she turned to lead
the way he heard a faint sound like the light tinkle of
a suppressed laugh. Harley started, and his face
flushed with anger. He had encountered often those
who tried to snub him, and usually he had been able
to take care of himself, but to be laughed at by a
housemaid was a new thing in his experience, and he
was far from liking it.
20
THE CANDIDATE
She indicated a small parlor with a wave of her
hand and said:
"You can go in there and wait. You have prom
ised not to steal the furniture, and, as the room con
tains only a piano, a table, and some chairs, all of
which are too big to be hidden under your overcoat,
I think that you will keep your promise."
She sped lightly away, leaving Harley trembling
so much with amazement and anger that he forgot
for at least two minutes to sit down. When he took
off his overcoat he murmured: "Before Mr. Grayson
thinks of ruling the United States he should discipline
his own household."
The house was quiet ; he heard no one stirring any
where. The light from an electric lamp in the street
shone into the parlor, and by its rays he saw Mr.
and Mrs. Grayson coming up the street. Then the
maid had told the truth about the "little walk," and
he was early.
He leaned back in his chair and watched the pair
as they approached their own house. Evidently they
had stolen these few minutes in the dark to be alone
with each other, and Harley sympathized with them,
because it would be a long time before the wife could
claim again that her husband was her own. They
entered a side-gate, passed through the lawn, and a
minute later were welcoming Harley.
"We did not expect to be gone so long," said Mrs.
Grayson; "but we see that you have found the right
place."
"Oh yes," said Harley; "a maid showed me in."
Then he added: "I am very glad, indeed, to have
been invited here, but if you want any more privacy I
don't think you should have asked me ; my kind will
soon be down upon you like a swarm of locusts,"
THE CANDIDATE
Mr. Grayson laughed and took a stack of telegraph
envelopes six inches thick from a table.
"You are right, Mr. Harley," he said. "They will
be here to-morrow, ready for the start. There are
more than twenty applications for space on our
train, and all of them shall have it. I don't think
that the boys and I shall quarrel."
Mrs. Grayson excused herself, and presently they
were summoned to dinner. Stepping out of a dusky
hall into a brilliantly lighted room, Harley was
dazzled for a moment, but he found himself bowing
when she introduced him to "My niece, Miss Morgan,
of Idaho." Then he saw a tall, slender girl, with a
singularly frank and open countenance, and a hand
extended to him as familiarly as if she had known
him all her life. Harley, although he had not ex
pected the offer of the hand, took it and gave it one
little shake. He felt an unaccountable embarrass
ment. He saw a faint twinkle in the girl's eye, as
if she found something amusing in his appearance,
and he feared that he had made a mistake in coming
in evening-dress. He flushed a little and felt a slight
resentment towards Mrs. Grayson, because she had
not told him of this niece ; but he was relieved for the
moment by an introduction to the third guest, Mrs.
Boyle, an elderly lady, also a relative, but more
distantly so.
Mrs. Boyle merely bowed, and at once returned
Harley to the custody of the niece from Idaho, of
whom he felt some fear, her singular freedom of
manner and the faint twinkle that still lurked in
her eye putting him on edge. Moreover, he was
assigned to a seat next to her, and, as obviously he
was expected to entertain her, his fear increased.
This girl was not only Western, but Far Western, and,
22
THE CANDIDATE
in his opinion, there was none so wise who could tell
what she would do or say. He repeated to himself
the word "Idaho," and it sounded remote, rough,
and wild.
" Uncle James tells me that you are a correspondent,
the representative of the New York Gazette," she
said.
"Yes."
"And that you are to go with him on the campaign
and write brilliant accounts of the things that never
happen."
"I am sure that Mr. Grayson was not your au
thority for such a statement," said Harley, with a
smile, although he did not wholly relish her banter.
" Oh no, Uncle James is a very polite man, and very
considerate of the feelings of others."
"Then it is a supposition of your own?"
"Oh no, not a supposition at all; the New York
newspapers sometimes reach us even in Idaho."
Harley did not respond to her banter, thinking it
premature, as she had never seen him before. He
could not forget the reserve and shyness natural to
him, and he felt a sense of hostility. He glanced at
her, and saw a cheek ruddier than the cheeks of
American women usually are, and a chin with an
unusually firm curve. Her hair was dark brown,
and when the electric light flashed upon her it seemed
to be streaked with dull gold. But the chin held him
with an odd sort of fascination, and he strove to read
her character in it. " Bold and resolute," he decided,
"but too Western, entirely too Far Western. She
needs civilizing." He was rather glad that he was
going away with Mr. Grayson on the morrow and
would not see her again.
"I should think," she said; "that the life of a
23
THE CANDIDATE
newspaper correspondent is extremely interesting.
You have all the pleasures and none of the re
sponsibilities; you go to war, but you do not fight;
you enter great political campaigns, but you cannot
be defeated; you are always with the victor and
never with the vanquished; you are not bound by
geographical limits nor by facts, nor "
"Excuse me, Miss Morgan," interrupted Harley,
with dignity. "In my profession, as in all others,
there are irresponsible persons, but the great majority
of its followers are conscientious and industrious.
If you only knew how "
"That sounds as if it had been prepared in ad
vance," she exclaimed. "I am sure that you have
used it many times before."
"You must not mind Sylvia," said Mrs. Grayson,
smiling her grave, quiet smile. "She seldom means
what she says, or says what she means."
"Aunt Anna," exclaimed Miss Morgan, "you are
really too hard upon your beloved niece. I never
before dined with the staff correspondent of a great
New York newspaper, and I am really seeking in
formation. Now I wish to know if in his profession
imagination is the most valuable quality, as I have
heard it said."
"Do you wish to embroil me with the press so
early?" asked Mr. Grayson, laughing.
"I have heard great tales about them and their
daring," she persisted. "I am not sure that even now
he has not a camera concealed under his coat."
"Why, Sylvia, what a strange thing to say!" ex
claimed Mrs. Grayson.
But Harley started in his seat and flushed a deep
red. " Miss Morgan, I shall have to ask your pardon,"
he exclaimed.
34
THE CANDIDATE
Mr. and Mrs. Grayson looked at them in surprise.
"Here is something that we do not understand,"
said Mr. Grayson.
"Why, Uncle James, there is nothing strange
about what I have said," continued Miss Morgan,
with the most innocent face. " I thought all of them
carried cameras, else how do we get all the wonderful
pictures?"
Harley felt inclined to tell the entire table his
experience, but on second thought he remained silent,
as the girl from Idaho began to pique him, and he
was not willing that the advantage should remain
wholly with her, especially when she was from the
very Far West. So he affected complete indifference,
and, when they asked him about his adventures in the
recent war on the other side of the world, he talked
freely about them, which he had never done before,
because, like most Americans, he was a modest man,
enduring in silence lectures on the sin of boasting from
others who boasted as they breathed. Most of the
time he spoke apparently to Mr. and Mrs. Grayson,
but he kept a side-look upon the girl from Idaho who
had played with him and humiliated him.
She became silent, as if satisfied with the flight of
the arrows that had gone already from her quiver,
and seemed to listen with an air of becoming respect ;
but Harley surprised once or twice the lurking twinkle
in her eye, and he was not sure that she was wholly
subdued. Opposition and difficulties always in
creased his resolve, and he doubled his efforts. He
spoke lightly of the kingdoms and republics whose
fortunes he had followed in a casual way and of the
men whom the heave of affairs had brought to the
surface for a space, and always he kept that side-
look upon her. These relations, surely, would im-
2 5
THE CANDIDATE
press, because what could she, a child of the Idaho
wilds, know of the great world ? And its very mystery
would heighten to her its coloring and effect.
Harley could talk well, all the better because he
talked so rarely of himself, and even now it was of
himself only by indirection, because he spoke chiefly
of men whom he had known and deeds that he had
witnessed. Watching the girl closely with that side-
look, he did not see the twinkle reappear in her eye;
instead she sat demure and silent, and he judged
that he had taken her beyond her depth. At last he
stopped, and she said, in a subdued tone:
"Did I not tell you, Uncle James, that imagination
was the great quality the correspondents need?"
Harley flushed, but he could not keep from joining
Mr. Grayson in his laugh. The candidate, besides
laughing, glanced affectionately at the girl. It was
evident that his niece was a favorite with Jimmy
Grayson.
"I shall ask Miss Morgan to tell me about Idaho,"
said Harley.
" It's quite wild, you know," she said, gravely ; " and
all the people need taming. But it would be a great
task."
When they went back to the drawing-room Harley
and the girl were behind the others, and he lingered
a moment beside her.
"Miss Morgan," he said, "I want to ask your
pardon again. You know it was in the dark, and
mine was an honest mistake."
"I will if you will tell me one thing."
"What is it?"
"Have you really got a camera with you?"
" If I had I should take a picture of you and not of
Mr. Grayson."
THE CANDIDATE
Harley remained awhile longer, and Miss Morgan's
treatment remained familiar and somewhat discon
certing, rather like the manner of an elder sister to
her young brother than of a girl to a man whom she
had known only two or three hours. When he rose
to leave, she again offered him her hand with perfect
coolness. Harley, in a perfunctory manner, ex
pressed his regret that he was not likely to see her
again, as he was to leave the next day with Mr. Gray-
son. The provoking twinkle appeared again in the
corner of her eyes.
"I don't intend that you shall forget me, Mr. Har
ley," she said, "because you are to see me again.
When you come to Washington in search of news,
I shall be there as the second lady of the land Aunt
Anna will be first."
"Oh, of course, I forgot that," said Harley, but he
was not sure that she had Washington in mind, re
membering Mrs. Grayson's assertion that she did not
always mean what she said nor say what she meant.
The night was quite dark, and when he had gone
a few yards Harley stopped and looked back at the
house. He felt a distinct sense of relief, because he
was gone from the presence of the mountain girl who
was not of his kind, and whom he did not know how
to take; being a man, he could not retort upon her
in her own fashion, and she was able to make him
feel cheap.
The drawing-room was still lighted, and he saw
the Idaho girl pass in front of one of the low win
dows, her figure completely outlined by the luminous
veil. It seemed to him to express a singular, flexible
grace perhaps the result of mountain life but he
was loath to admit it, as she troubled him. Harley,
although young, had been in many lands and among
27
THE CANDIDATE
many people. He had seen many women who were
beautiful, and some who were brilliant, but it had
been easy to forget every one of them; they hardly
made a ripple in the stream of his work, and often
it was an effort to recall them. He had expected to
dismiss this Idaho girl in the same manner, but she
would not go, and he was intensely annoyed with
himself.
He went to the telegraph-office, wrote and filed
his despatch, and then, lighting a cigar, strolled slow
ly through the streets. It was not eleven o'clock,
but it seemed that everybody except himself was in
bed and asleep. The lights in all the houses were
out, and there was no sound whatever save that of
the wind as it came in from the prairie and stirred the
new foliage of the trees. "And this is our wicked
America, for which my foreign friends used to offer
me sincere condolences!" murmured Harley.
But he returned quickly to his own mental disturb
ance. He felt as he used to feel on the eve of a bat
tle that all knew was coming off, there on the other
side of the world. He was then with an army which
he was not at all sure was in the right ; but when he
sat on a hill-top in the night, looking at the flickering
lights of the enemy ahead, and knowing that the
combat would be joined at dawn, he could not resist
a feeling of comradeship with that army to which, for
a time and in a sense, perhaps, alien he belonged.
Those soldiers about him became friends, and the
enemy out there was an enemy for him, too. It was
the same now when he was to go on a long journey
with Jimmy Grayson, who stood upon a platform of
which he had many doubts.
He turned back to the hotel, and when he entered
the lobby a swarm of men fell upon him and de-
28
THE CANDIDATE
manded the instant delivery of any news which he
might have and they had not. They were corre
spondents who had come by every train that after
noon Hobart, Churchill, Blaisdell, Lawson, and
others, making more than a score some representing
journals that would support Gray son, and others
journals that would call him names, many and bad.
"We hear that you have been to dinner with the
candidate," said Churchill, the representative of the
New York Monitor, a sneering sheet owned by one
foreigner and edited by another, which kept its eye
on Europe, and considered European opinion final,
particularly in regard to American affairs; "so you
can tell us if it is true that he picks his teeth at table
with a fork."
"You are a good man for the Monitor, Churchill,"
said Harley, sharply. "Your humor is in perfect ac
cord with the high taste displayed, and you show
the same dignity and consideration in your refer
ences to political opponents."
"Oh, I see," said Churchill, sneering just as he
had been taught to sneer by the Monitor. "He is
the first guest to dine with the Presidential nominee,
and he is overpowered by the honor."
"You shut up, Churchill!" said Hobart, another of
the correspondents. "You sha'n't pick a quarrel
with Harley, and you sha'n't be a mischief-maker
here. There are enough of us to see that you don't."
Harley turned his back scornfully upon Churchill,
who said nothing more, and began to tell his friends
of Grayson.
"He is an orator," he said. "We know that by
undoubted report, and his manner is simple and most
agreeable. He has more of the quality called personal
magnetism than any other man I ever saw."
29
THE CANDIDATE
"What of his ability?" asked Tremaine, the oldest
of the correspondents.
Harley thought a little while before replying.
"I can't make up my mind on that point," he said.
" I find in him, so far as I can see, a certain simplicity,
I might almost say an innocence, which is remarkable.
He is unlike the other public men whom I have met,
but I don't know whether this innocence indicates
superficiality or a tact and skill lying so deep that
he is able to plan an ambush for the best of his ene
mies."
"Well, we are to be with him five months," said
Tremaine, "and it is our business to find out."
Ill
THE START
THEY were to start at dawn the next day, going
back to Chicago, where the campaign would
be opened, and Harley, ever alert, was dressing
while it was yet dusk. From a corner of the dining-
room, where he snatched a quick breakfast, he saw
the sun shoot out of the prairie like a- great red
cannon-ball and the world swim up into a sea of
rosy light. Then he ran for the special train, which
was puffing and whistling at the station, and the
flock of correspondents was at his heels.
Harley saw Mr. and Mrs. Grayson alighting from
a cab, and, satisfied with the one glance, he entered the
car and sought his place. Always, like the trained
soldier, he located his camp, or rather base, before
beginning his operations, and he made himself com
fortable there with his fellows until the train was well
clear of the city and the straggling suburbs that
hung to it like a ragged fringe. Then he decided to
go into the next coach to see Mr. and Mrs. Grayson,
making, as it were, a dinner call.
The candidate and his wife had taken the drawing-
room, not from any desire of his for seclusion or as
an artificial aid to greatness, but because he saw that
it was necessary if he would have any time for thought
or rest. Harley approached the compartment, ex
pecting to be announced by the porter, but a veiled
THE CANDIDATE
lady in the seat next to it rose up before him. She
lifted the veil, which was not a disguise, instead being
intended merely as a protection against the dust that
one gathers on a railroad journey, and Harley stopped
in surprise.
"And so you see, Mr. Correspondent," she said,
"that your farewell was useless. You behold me
again inside of twelve hours. I wanted to tell you
last night that I was going on this train, as Uncle
James has great confidence in my political judgment
and feels the constant need of my advice, but I was
afraid you would not believe me. So I have pre
ferred to let you see for yourself."
She gave Harley a look which he could not inter
pret as anything but saucy, and his attention was
called again by the bold, fine curve of her chin, and
he was saying to himself: "A wild life in the moun
tains surely develops courage and self-reliance, but
at the expense of the more delicate and more at
tractive qualities." Then he said aloud, and politely:
"I see no reason, Miss Morgan, why you should
have credited me with a lack of faith in your word.
Have I said anything to induce such a belief in your
mind?"
"No, you have merely looked it."
"I do not always look as I feel," said Harley, in
embarrassment, "and I want to tell you, Miss Mor
gan, that I am very glad you are going with us on
this Chicago trip."
"You look as if you meant that," she said, gravely;
"but if I am to take you at your word, you mean
nothing of the kind."
"I do mean it; I assure you I do," said Harley,
hastily. "But are Mr. and Mrs. Grayson ready to
receive visitors ?"
32
THE CANDIDATE
"That depends. I am not sure that I want Uncle
James interviewed so early in the day. At least I
want to know in advance the subject of the inter
view. You can give me, as it were, the heads of
your discourse. Come, tell me, and I will render
a decision."
She regarded Harley with a grave face, and he was
divided between vexation and a sort of reluctant
admiration of her coolness. She was bold and for
ward, not to say impertinent, but she seemed wholly
unconscious of it, and, after all, she was from one of
the wildest parts of Idaho. He kindly excused much
of her conduct on the ground of early association.
"I do not seek to interview any one," he said; "I
merely wish to pay my respects to Mr. and Mrs.
Grayson, having been their guest, as you know."
"Oh, then you can go in," she said, and, calling
to the porter, she told him to announce Mr. Harley,
of the New York Gazette. "Of the New York Ga
zette" she said again, with what Harley considered
unnecessary repetition and emphasis, and he had a
new count against her.
Mr. and Mrs. Grayson received him with courtesy,
even with warmth, and Harley saw that he had made
new progress in their esteem. He remained with
them only a few minutes, and he said nothing about
the objectionable conduct of Miss Morgan, who had
set herself as a guard upon their door. He deemed it
wiser to make no reference to her at all, because she
was only an insignificant and momentary incident of
the campaign, not really relevant. Chicago was
merely a beginning, and they would drop her there.
When he returned from the drawing-room, she was
still sitting near the door, and at his appearance she
looked up pertly.
-' 33
THE CANDIDATE
"Did you find him in a good -humor?" she asked.
"I think Mr. Grayson is always in a good-humor,
or at least he is able to appear so."
" I doubt whether perpetual good-humor, or the
appearance of it, is desirable. One ought to make a
difference in favor of friends ; I do not care to present
an amiable face to my enemies.".
She pursed up her lips and looked thoughtful.
"When Uncle James goes to Washington to take
the Presidency," she continued, "he will need me to
protect him from the people who have no business
with him."
"I hope the last remark is not personal?"
"Oh no," she said; "I recognize the fact that the
press must be tolerated."
Harley again felt piqued, and, not willing to re
tire with the sense of defeat fresh upon him, he sat
down near her and began to talk to her of her Western
life. He wished to know more about the genesis
and progress of a girl who seemed to him so strange,
but he was not able to confine her to certain channels
of narrative. She was flippant and vague, full of
allusions to wild things like Indians or buffaloes or
grizzly bears, but with no detailed statement, and
Harley gathered that her childhood had been in
complete touch with these primitive facts. Only
such early associations could account for the absence
of so many conventions.
The correspondents who travelled with Harley
were mostly men of experience, readily adaptable,
and the addition of a new member to Mr. Grayson' s
party could not escape their attention. Harley was
surprised and shocked to find that all of them were
well acquainted with Miss Morgan inside of six hours,
and that they seemed to be much better comrades
34
THE CANDIDATE
with her than he had been. Hobart, the most friv
olous of the lot, and the most careless of speech, re
turning from the Grayson car, informed him that she
was a "great girl, as fine as silk."
"That's a queer expression to apply to a lady,"
said Harley. "It smacks of the Bowery."
"And what if it does?" replied Hobart, coolly.
"I often find the Bowery both terse and truthful.
And in this case the expression fits Miss Morgan.
She's the real article no fuss and frills, just a daugh
ter of the West, never pretending that she is what
she isn't. I heard her speak of you, Harley, and I
don't think she likes you, old man. What have you
been doing?"
"I hope I have been behaving as a gentleman
should," replied Harley, with some asperity; "and
if I have been unlucky enough to incur her dislike, I
shall endure it as best I can."
He spoke in an indifferent tone, as if his endurance
would not be severely tested.
"But you are missing a good time," said Hobart.
"There are not less than a dozen of us at her feet,
and the Grayson car is full of jollity. I'm going
back."
He returned to the car, and Harley was left alone
just then, as he wished to be, and with an effort he
dismissed Miss Morgan from his thoughts. Mr. Gray-
son would speak that night in Chicago, and an audi
ence of twenty thousand people was assured; this
fact and the other one, that it would be his initial
address, making the event of the first importance.
Harley as a correspondent was able not only to
chronicle facts, which is no great feat, but also to tell
why, to state the connection between them, and to
re-create the atmosphere in which those facts oc-
35
THE CANDIDATE
curred and which made them possible. He was well
aware that a fact was dependent for its quality that
is, for its degree of good or evil upon its surrounding
atmosphere, just as a man is influenced by the air
that he breathes, and for this reason he wished to
send in advance a despatch about Mr. Grayson and
his personality as created by his birth and associa
tions.
He rested his pad on the car -seat and began to
write, but Miss Morgan intruded herself in the first
line. This question of character, created by en
vironment, would apply to her as well as to her uncle ;
but Hafley, angrily refusing to consider it, tore off
the sheet of paper and, throwing it on the floor,
began again. The second trial was more successful,
and he soon became absorbed in the effort to de
scribe Mr. Grayson and his remarkable personality,
which might be either deep and complex or of the
simplest Western type.
As he wrote Harley became more and more ab
sorbed in his subject, and with the absorption came
spontaneity. He did not know how well he was
writing, nor what a vivid picture he was presenting
to the vast Eastern population to whom Jimmy Gray-
son was as yet but a name. It was a despatch that
became famous, reprinted all over the Union, and
quoted as the first description of the candidate as he
really was that is, of the man. And yet Harley, read
ing it days later, recognized in it something that
nobody else saw. It was a blend. In every fourth
line Sylvia Morgan again, and despite his efforts,
had obtruded herself. He had borrowed something
from her to add to Jimmy Grayson, and he felt that
he had been seeking excuses for her manner.
But this fact did not impinge upon Harley now,
36
THE CANDIDATE
when he read the despatch preparatory to filing it
at Chicago. He merely felt that he had made an at
tempt to solve Jimmy Grayson, and in doing so had
fulfilled his duty.
As he folded up the article the loud voice of Hobart
hailed him from the other end of the car, and he be
held that irresponsible man entering with the candi
date's niece.
"You see what he has been about all this time,
Miss Morgan?" said Hobart. "He has been at work.
Harley, you know, is the only conscientious man
among us."
"I have remarked already his devotion to duty,"
she said, sedately; "but do you think, Mr. Hobart,
we should disturb him now? We do not know that
he has finished his task."
Harley flushed. He did not wish to be thought a
prig or one who made a pretence of great industry,
and, although Miss Morgan's voice was without ex
pression, he believed that irony lay hidden some
where in it.
"You are mistaken," he said; "my work is over,
for the time, at least. It was something that had to
be done, or I should not have stolen off here alone."
Then he went back with them to the Grayson car,
where a joyous group had gathered. Mr. and Mrs.
Grayson were in the drawing-room, with the door
shut, working upon the candidate's speech at Chicago,
Harley surmised, and hence there was no restraint.
Of this group the girl from Idaho was the centre and
the sun. She seemed to be on good terms with them
all, to the great surprise of Harley, who had known
her longer than they, and who had not been able to
get on with her at all, and he sat rather on the fringe
of the throng, saying but little.
37
THE CANDIDATE
Again she inspired him with hostility; she seemed,
as before, too bold.j too boisterous, too much the
mountain maid, althbugh he could not analyze any
particular incident as wrong in itself. And clearly
she had won the liking, even the admiration, of his
associates, all of whom were men of wide experience.
Tremaine, the dean of the corps, a ruddy, white-haired
old fellow, who had written despatches from the
Russo-Turkish war, which was ancient history to
Harley, warmed visibly to Miss Morgan. "It is al
ways the way with those old gallants," was Harley 's
silent comment. But he had never before character
ized Tremaine in such a manner.
He was afraid of her sharp tongue, knowing that
a woman in such respects is never averse to taking
an unfair advantage of a man; but she paid no heed
to him, talking with the others and passing over him
as if he had not been present; and, while this was
what he wanted in the first place, yet, now that he
had it, he resented it as something undeserved.
But if she would not speak to him, he, too, would keep
silence, a silence which he was convinced had in it
a disdainful quality; hence it was not without a cer
tain comfort and satisfaction.
But Harley was forced to admit that if she was of
the bold and boisterous type, she was a favorable
specimen within those unfavorable limits. While she
was familiar, in a measure, with these men, yet she
was able to keep them at the proper distance, and
no one presumed, in any respect. She radiated
purity and innocence, and it was to ignorance only
that Harley now charged her faults.
They reached Chicago the next morning, and at
noon Hobart knocked at the door of Harley's room
at the hotel.
38
THE CANDIDATE
"There is some idle time this afternoon," said
Hobart, "and Tremaine and I have asked Miss Mor
gan to go driving. She has accepted, but it takes
four to make a party, and you are the lucky fourth."
He allowed no protestations, and, after all, Har-
ley, who had been under much strain for some time,
was not averse to an hour or two in the fresh air.
"Miss Morgan has never been in Chicago before,"
said Hobart, "and it is our duty to show it to
her."
Hobart, who drove, put Miss Morgan upon the
seat beside him, and Tremaine and Harley, who sat
'behind, occupied what was to some extent the post
of disadvantage; but Tremaine, safe in his years,
would not permit the rear seat to be neglected. He
talked constantly, and her face, of necessity, was
often turned to them, giving Harley opportunity to
see that it had a most becoming flush.
She had an eager interest in everything the tall
buildings, the wind-swept streets, and the glimpses
of the wide, green lake. Harley saw that Chicago
bulked much more largely in her imagination than
in his, and he began to fear that he had been neglect
ful; it was the most concrete expression of the West,
and, as the greatest achievement of a new people in
city building, it deserved attention for qualities pe
culiarly its own, and there could be no doubt either
of Miss Morgan's admiration or pleasure. She was
seeking neither for the old nor the picturesque, which
are not always synonymous, but was in full sym
pathy with the fresh, active, and, on the whole, joyous
life around her. It was sufficient to her to be a part
of the human tide, and to feel by contact the keen
ness and zest of the human endeavor. She was not
troubled by the absence of ruins.
39
THE CANDIDATE
"But the city is flat and unpicturesque," once
said Harley.
"All the better," she rejoined. "I have so much
of silence and grandeur in Idaho that I enjoy the
sight of two million people at work on this billiard-
table that is Chicago. I like my own kind, I like
to talk to it and have it talk to me. I suppose that
the mountains have a voice, but the voice is too big
for perpetual conversation with a poor little mortal
like myself. After a while I want to come down to
my own level, and I find it here."
Harley glanced at her. The flush was still on her
face, and there was a soft light in her eyes. He'
could not doubt that she was sincere, and she started
in his mind thoughts that were not altogether new
to him; he wondered if excessive reverence for the
antique did not indicate a detachment from the pres
ent, and therefore from life itself, and, as a logical
sequence, a lack of feeling for one's own kind. He
had heard an elderly man from Chicago, dragged
about by his wife and daughters in Rome, exclaim
in disgust, "I would not give a single street corner
in Chicago for all Rome!" The elderly Chicagoan
had been drowned in derisive laughter, but Harley
could understand his point of view, and now, as he
remembered him, he had for him a fellow-feeling.
Hobart took them through many streets, one much
like another, and then over a white asphalt drive be
side the great lake. The shores were low, but to
Harley the lake had the calm restlessness and ex
panse of the sea, and the wind had the same keen
tang that comes over miles of salt. He saw the girl's
eyes linger upon the vast sheet of green, and the in
cipient hostility that he felt towards her disappeared
for a time. Somewhere in her nature, strait though
40
THE CANDIDATE
the place might be, there was a feeling for fine things,
and he felt a kindred glow.
They were rather quiet when they drove back tow
ards the hotel, but she spoke at last of her uncle
James and his speech that night, which might justify
the expectations of either his friends or his enemies.
There had grown up lately in the theatrical world a
practice of " trying a new piece on the dog " that is,
of presenting it first in some small town which was
not too particular but now the political world was
moving differently in this particular case. The can
didate was to make his first appearance in one of the
greatest of cities, before two million people, so to
speak, and the ordeal would be so severe that Harley
found himself apprehensive for Jimmy Grayson's sake.
The feeling was shared by his niece.
"You don't think he will fail, do you?" she said, in
an appealing tone to Hobart.
"Fail!" replied that irrepressible optimist. "He
can't fail! The bigger the crowd the better he will
rise to the occasion."
But she did not seem to be wholly convinced by
Hobart's cheerfulness, which was too general in its
nature that is, inclusive of everything and turned
to Harley and Tremaine as if seeking confirmation.
"It will be a terrible test," said Harley, frankly,
"but I feel sure that Mr. Grayson will pass it with
glory. He is a born orator, and he has courage."
"I thank you for your belief," she said, giving
Harley a swift glance of gratitude, and unaccount
ably he felt a pleasing glow at the first gracious
words she had ever spoken to him.
"I could not bear it if he failed," she continued.
"He is my uncle, and he is our own Western man.
What things would be in the newspapers to-morrow!"
41
THE CANDIDATE
"If Mr. Grayson should fail to-night, he would re
cover himself at his second speech; he has your
spirit, you know," said the ancient Tremaine.
But she did not seem to relish his elderly gallantry.
"How do you know I have spirit?" she asked. "I
have done nothing to indicate it."
" I inferred it," replied he, bowing, but she only lift
ed her chin incredulously, and Tremaine subsided,
his suppression giving Harley some quiet enjoy
ment.
They returned, chiefly in silence, to the hotel.
The dusk was coming down over the great city, and
with it a grayish mist that hid the walls of the build
ings, although the electric lights in lofty stories
twinkled through it like signal-fires from hill-tops.
Miss Morgan seemed subdued, and at the hotel door
she said to them in dismissal: " I thank you; you have
given me much pleasure."
"I rather think that she is wrapped up in Mr.
Grayson's success," said Hobart, "and, as she inti
mates, it will come pretty near to breaking her heart
if he fails."
In the lobby Harley met Churchill, of the Monitor,
and Churchill, as usual, was sneering.
"I imagine that Grayson will make a display of
provincialism to-night," he said. "America will have
to blush for herself. I have copies of the Monitor,
and all our London cables show the greatest amaze
ment in Great Britain and on the Continent that we
should put up such an outr6 Western character for
President, one of the Boys, you know."
"The Grayson of the Monitor is not the Grayson
of reality," replied Harley, "and the opinion of
Europe does not matter, because Europe knows
nothing about Mr. Grayson."
42
THE CANDIDATE
"Oh, I see! You are falling under the influence,"
said Churchill, nastily.
"What do you mean?" demanded Harley.
But Churchill would not answer. He sauntered
away still sneering. Harley looked after him angrily,
but concluded in a few moments that his wrath was
not worth while Churchill, trained to look always
in the wrong direction could never see anything
right.
IV
THE FIRST SPEECH
WHEN Harley started at an early hour for the
vast hall in which Mr. Grayson was to speak,
he realized that there was full cause for the trepida
tion of his feminine kind perhaps in such moments
women tremble for their men more than they ever
tremble for themselves and he had plenty of sym
pathy for Mrs. Grayson and Miss Morgan. The
city, astir with the coming speech, was free to express
in advance its opinion of it, both vocally and through
its press, which was fairly divided that is, one-half
was convinced that it would be an overwhelming
triumph, and the other half was equally sure that it
would be a failure just as overwhelming.
Harley had in his pocket a copy of his own paper
the Gazette the latest to reach him, and he had read
it with the greatest care, but he saw that it remained
independent ; so far, it neither endorsed nor attacked
Grayson ; and, also, he had a telegram from his editor
instructing him to narrate the events of the evening
with the strictest impartiality, not only as concerned
facts, but, above all, to transmit the exact color and
atmosphere of the occasion. "I know that this is
hard to do," he said, but with the deft and useful
little compliment that a wise employer knows how
to put in at the end, he added: "I am sure that you
44
THE CANDIDATE
can do it." And he knew his man; Harley would
certainly do it.
Harley, seated in an obscure corner of the stage,
but one offering many points of vantage for his own
view, saw the vast crowd come quickly into the hall,
among the largest in the world, and he heard the hum
of voices, in which he thought he could distinguish
two notes, one of favor and one of attack. Yet the
audience was orderly, and on the whole the element of
curiosity prevailed. The correspondent, quick to
read such signs, saw that the people had an open
mind in regard to Jimmy Grayson ; it was left to the
candidate to make his own impression. Churchill
took a seat near him and began to annoy him with
depreciatory remarks about Grayson, not spoken to
Harley in particular, but to the wide world. Hobart
once said that Churchill needed no audience, prefer
ring to talk to the air, which could make no reply of
its own, but must return an echo.
Harley saw Mrs. Grayson and her niece slip quietly
into a box, sitting well back, where they could be
seen but little by the audience; and then, knowing
that Mr. Grayson had arrived, he went behind the
wings, where the candidate sat waiting.
Mr. Grayson received him with a calm and pleas
ant word ; if his family were in a tremble, he was not ;
at least he was able to hide any apprehension that
he might feel, and he remarked, jestingly: "It is
apparent that I will have an audience, Mr. Harley;
they will not ignore me."
"No, you are a good puller," rejoined Harley.
There were some dry preliminaries introductory
remarks by the chairman and other necessary bores
and then the audience began to call for Grayson. The
speech would be reported in full by short-hand, for
45
which mechanical work the staff correspondent
always hires a member of that guild, and Harley was
free for the present. He resolved to go into the box
with Mrs. Grayson and Miss Morgan, but he changed
his mind when he glanced at their faces. There was
pallor in their cheeks, and their whole attitude was of
strained and intense waiting. For them the crucial
moment had come, and Harley had too much human
ity to disturb them, even with well-meant efforts, at
such a moment.
The hum in the crowd increased to a roar, a
thunderous call for Grayson, but there was a pause
on the stage, where no figures moved. The chairman
glanced uneasily towards the wings and shuffled
in his seat as if he did not know what to do, but his
apprehension did not last long.
The candidate appeared, coming forward with a
steady step, his face pale and apparently inex
pressive; but Harley could see that the eyes, usually
so calm, were lighted up by a fire from within.
Suddenly all his fear for Grayson sank away ; it came
upon him with the finality of a lightning flash that
here was a man who would not fail, and by an un
known impulse he looked from the candidate to the
box in which Miss Morgan sat. She seemed to have
read his faith in his eyes, for a look of relief, even joy,
came over her face.
This intuition of the two was justified, as the
candidate did not have to conquer his audience. He
held it in his spell from the opening sentence; the
golden and compelling oratory, afterwards so famous,
was here poured before the greater world for the first
time. Harley listened to the periods, smooth but
powerful, and he could not throw off their charm;
some things were said of which he was not sure, and
46
THE CANDIDATE
others with which he positively disagreed, but for
the time they all seemed true. Jimmy Gray son be
lieved them there could be no doubt of it; every
word was tinged with the vivid hue of sincerity
that was why they held the audience in a spell that
it could not escape; these were convictions, not
arguments that he was speaking, and the people
received them as such. Moreover, he was always
clear and direct, he had a Greek precision of speech,
and there was none in the audience who could not
follow him.
Harley, no orator himself, had in the course of his
profession heard much oratory, some good, much
bad, and even now he struggled against the charm
of Grayson's voice and manner, and sought to see
what lay behind them. Was there back of this
golden veil any great originating or executive power,
or was he, like so many others who speak well, a
voice and nothing more? An orator might win the
Presidency of the United States, but his gift would not
necessarily qualify him to administer the office. It
was a tribute to Barley's power of will or detachment
that he was able at such a time to ask himself such a
question.
But he forgot these after- thoughts in the pleasurable
sympathy that his view of the candidate's wife and
niece aroused. Their faces were illumined with joy.
Feeling his spell so strongly themselves, they knew
without looking that the audience felt it, too, and the
evening could be no fuller for them. Here he was,
a hero not only for his womenkind, but for all whom
his womenkind could see, and Harley thought that
under the influence of this feeling Miss Morgan's
features had become very soft and feminine. The
curve of the jaw was gentle rather than firm, and
47
THE CANDIDATE
now in her softer moments it seemed to Harley that
something might be made of this mountain girl, say
by the deft hands of an Eastern and older woman.
Then he blushed at himself for such a condescending
thought, and turned to his task that is, the effort to
reproduce for readers in New York, the next morning,
the atmosphere of that evening in a Chicago hall, and
the exact relation that Mr. Grayson, the people, and
the events of the hour bore to each other.
Harley was a conscientious man, interested in his
work, and when he gave the last page of the despatch
to a telegraph-boy the speech was nearly over. He
said emphatically that it was a success, that the
audience was brought thoroughly under the spell, but
whether this spell would endure after the candidate
was gone he did not undertake to prophesy. The
coldest and most critical seeker after truth and
nothing but the truth could have found no fault with
what he wrote.
He gave the last page of the despatch to the
telegraph -boy, and entered the secluded box that
held Mrs. Grayson and Miss Morgan. Two elderly
Chicago men, who played at politics and who were
warm enthusiasts for Grayson, were there, and Harley
was introduced to them. But he talked to them
only as long as politeness demanded, and then, with
all sincerity, he congratulated Mrs. Grayson on her
husband's triumph.
"I never had a doubt of it," she replied, her voice
tremulous, and honestly forgetful in the glory of the
moment of all the fears that had been assailing her
a few hours ago. "I knew what he could do."
Harley turned presently to Miss Morgan, and he
spoke in the same vein to her, but she asked, with some
asperity, "Did you think he could fail?"
48
THE CANDIDATE
"Failure is possible, I suppose, in the case of
anybody."
"But you do not know our Western spirit."
"I am learning."
Her gentleness was gone. She resented what she
chose to consider an attempt at patronage of the
West, and Harley again was made the target for the
arrows of her sarcasm. Yet he did not resent it with
his original acerbity; custom was dulling the sharp
edge of her weapons, and, instead of wounding him,
they rather provoked and drew him on. He was able
to reply lightly, to suggest vaguely the crudities of
Idaho, and to incite her to yet more strenuous battle
for her beloved mountains.
But both ceased to talk, because the candidate was
approaching his climax, and the grand swell of his
speech had in it a musical quality that did not de
tract from its power to carry conviction. Then he
closed, and the thunders of applause rose again and
again. At last, after bowing many times to the
gratified audience, he came back to the box, and his
niece, her eyes shining with delight, sprang up, as if
driven by an impulse, and, throwing her arms about
his neck, kissed him. The act was seen by many, and
it was applauded, but Harley did not like it; her
emotion seemed to him too youthful, to smack too
little of restraint in short, to be too Western. De
spite himself, he frowned, and when she turned back
towards the box she saw the frown still upon his face.
There was an instant fiery flash in her eye, and she
drew herself up as if in haughty defiance, but she
said nothing then, nor did she speak later when she
left with the Graysons, merely giving him a cold
good-night bow.
Harley lingered a little with the other correspond-
4 49
THE CANDIDATE
ents, and was among the last to leave the building.
He was thinking of the Idaho girl, but he did not
fail to notice what was going on, and he saw a group
of middle-aged or elderly men, the majority of them
portly in figure and autocratic in bearing, follow the
trail of Jimmy Grayson. Although familiar with the
faces of only one or two in the group, he knew in
stinctively who they were. It was a gathering of
the great, moneyed men of the party, eager to see
the attitude of Grayson upon affairs that concerned
them intimately, and prompt to take action in ac
cordance. They were the guardians of "vested" in
terests, interests watched over as few things in this
world are, and they were resolved to see that they
took no harm. But the speech of the night had
been general in its nature, a preliminary as it were,
and Harley judged that they would do nothing as
yet but skirmish upon the outskirts, keeping a wary
eye for the main battle when it should be joined.
"Did you notice them?" asked white-haired Tre-
maine in his ear.
"Oh yes," replied Harley, who knew at once what
he meant; " I watched them leave the hall."
"One gets to know them instinctively," said Tre-
maine. "I've seen them like a herd of bull-dogs if
such animals travelled in herds on the heels of
every presidential candidate for the last forty years,
and that covers ten campaigns. But I suppose they
have as much right to look after their interests as the
farmer or mechanic has to look after his."
"Yet it is worth while to watch them," said Har
ley, and all in the group concurred.
They were to leave in the afternoon for Milwaukee,
which gave plenty of time for rest, and Harley, who
needed it, slept late. But when he rose and dressed
50
THE CANDIDATE
he went forth at once, after his habit, for the morning
papers, buying them all in order to weigh as well as
he could the Chicago opinion of Grayson. The first
that he picked up was sensational in character, and
what he saw on the front page did not please him at
all. There was plenty of space devoted to Grayson,
but almost as much was given to an incident of the
evening as to Grayson himself. There was a huge
picture of a beautiful young girl throwing her arms
around Jimmy Grayson's neck, and kissing him en
thusiastically. The two occupied the centre of the
stage close to the foot-lights, and twenty thousand
people were frantically cheering the spectacle. By
the side of this picture was another, a perfectly cor
rect portrait of Miss Morgan, evidently taken from a
photograph, and under it were the lines: "Jimmy
Grayson's Egeria the Beautiful Young Girl Who Fur
nishes the Western Fire for His Speeches."
And then in two columns of leaded type, under a
pyramid of head-lines, was told the story of Sylvia
Morgan. Flushed with enthusiasm, the account said,
she had come from Idaho to help her uncle, the can
didate. Although only eighteen years of age she
was twenty-two she had displayed a most remark
able perception and grasp of politics and of great
issues. It was she, with her youthful zeal, who in
spired Mr. Grayson and his friends with courage for
a conflict against odds. He consulted her daily about
his speeches; it was she who always put into them
some happy thought, some telling phrase that was
sure to captivate the people. In a pinch she could
make a speech herself, and she would probably be
seen on the stump in the West. And she was as
beautiful as she was intellectual and eloquent; she
would be the most picturesque feature of this or any
THE CANDIDATE
campaign ever waged in America. It continued in
this vein for two columns, employing all the latest
devices of the newest and yellowest journalism, of
which the process is quite simple, provided you have
no conscience that is, you take a grain of fact and
you build upon it a mountain of fancy, and the
mountain will be shaped according to the taste of
the builder.
Harley would have laughed these things always
seemed to him childish or flippant rather than wicked
if it had not been for the photograph. That was
too real; it was exactly like Sylvia Morgan, and it
implied connivance between the newspaper and some
body else. In Idaho it might have one look, but
here in Chicago it would have another, and in New
York it would have still another and yet worse. She
ought to see the true aspect of these things. To
Harley, reared with the old-fashioned Southern ideals,
from which he never departed, it was all inexpressi
bly distasteful he did not stop to ask himself why
he should be more concerned about the picture of
Miss Morgan than those of many other women whom
he saw in the newspapers and his feeling was not
improved by the entrance of Churchill and his sneer
ing comment.
"A good picture of her," said Churchill. "These
Western girls like such things. Of course she sent
it to the newspaper office."
"I do not know anything of the kind, nor do you,
I think," replied Harley, with asperity. "Nor am I
aware that the West is any fonder than the East of
notoriety."
" Have it any way you wish," said Churchill, super
ciliously. "But I fail to see why you should disturb
yourself so much over the matter."
THE CANDIDATE
His tone was so annoying that Harley felt like
striking him, but instead ignored him, and Churchill
strolled carelessly on, humming a tune, as he had
seen insolent people on the stage do in such mo
ments.
Harley thrust the newspaper into his pocket, and
went into one of the ladies' parlors, where he saw
Miss Morgan sitting by a window and looking out
at the hasty life of Chicago. She did not hear his
approach until he was very near, and then, starting
at the sound of his footsteps, she looked up, and her
cheeks flushed.
"It should be a happy day for you," said Harley,
"and I suppose that you are enjoying the triumph."
"Why should I not?" she replied. "I have a
share in it."
"So you have, and the press has recognized it."
"What do you mean?"
"I was just looking at a very good picture of you,"
said Harley, and he spread the paper before her,
hoping that she would express surprise and distaste.
But she showed neither.
"Oh, I've seen that already," she said, quite cool
ly. " Don't you think it a good picture ?"
"I have no fault to find with the likeness," replied
Harley, with some meaning in his tone.
" Then what fault have you to find ?"
Harley was embarrassed, and hesitated, seeking for
the right words what did it matter to him if she
failed to show the reserve that he thought part of a
gentlewoman's nature.
"You infer more than I meant," he said, at last.
"I merely felt surprise that they should have ob
tained a photograph so quickly."
The slightly deepened flush in her cheeks remained
53
THE CANDIDATE
and she surveyed him with the same cool air of de
fiance.
"They would have had a picture, anyhow, some
thing made up; was it not better, then, to furnish
them a real one than to have a burlesque published ?"
"It's hardly usual," said Harley, more embar
rassed than ever. "But really, Miss Morgan, I have
no right to speak of it in any connection."
"No, but you were intending to do so. It was in
your eye when I looked up and saw you coming
towards me."
Her voice had grown chilly, and her gaze was fixed
on Harley. The Western girl certainly had dignity
and reserve when she wished them, but he did not
believe that she chose the right moments to display
these admirable qualities.
"I did not know that I had such a speaking coun
tenance," said Harley. "And even if so, you must
not forget that you might read it wrong."
"I do not think so," she said, still chilly, and,
glancing up at the clock, she added: "It is almost
twelve, and I promised Aunt Anna to be with her a
half -hour ago."
At the door she paused, turned back, and a flash
ing smile illuminated her face for a moment.
"Oh, Mr. Harley," she said, "don't you wish some
newspaper would print your picture?"
Then she was gone, leaving him flushed and ir
ritated. He was angry, both at her and himself; at
himself because he had expected to rebuke her, to
show her indirectly and in a delicate way where she
was wrong, and he had never even got as far as the
attack. It was he who had been put upon the de
fence, when he had not expected to be in such a
state, and his self-satisfaction suffered. But he told
54
THE CANDIDATE
himself that she was a crude Western girl, and that
it was nothing to him if she forced herself into the
public gaze in a bold and theatrical manner.
A little later all left for Milwaukee, where Mr.
Grayson was to make another great speech in the
evening, and Harley again refrained from joining the
group that soon gathered around Miss Morgan, and
Mrs. Grayson, also, who, being in a very happy mood,
made a loan of her presence as a chaperon, she said,
although, being a young woman still, it gave her
pleasure to hear them speak of her husband's brilliant
triumph the night before, and to enjoy the atmos
phere of success that enveloped the car.
The run from Chicago to Milwaukee is short, but
Harley, despite his pique he was young and nat
urally of a cheerful temperament might have
joined them before their arrival if his attention had
not been attracted by another group, that body of
portly, middle - aged men, heavy with wealth and
respectability, who had silently cast a dark shadow
upon the meeting at Chicago. They were men of
power, men whose brief words went far, and they
held in their hands strings that controlled many and
vast interests when they pulled them, and their hands
were always on the strings. They were not like
the great, voluble public ; they worked, by choice and
by opportunity, in silence and the dark, and their kind
has existed in every rich country from Babylonia to
the United States of America. They were the great
financial magnates of Jimmy Grayson's party, and
nothing that he might do could escape their notice
and consideration. It was more than likely that in
the course of the campaign he would feel a great
power pressing upon him, and he would not be able to
~.ay who propelled it.
55
THE CANDIDATE
Harley knew some of these men by name ; one, the
leader of the party, a massive, red-faced man, was
the Honorable Clinton Goodnight, a member of the
Lower House of Congress from New York, but
primarily a manufacturer, a man of many millions;
and the younger and slenderer man, with the del
icately trimmed and pointed beard, was Henry
Crayon, one of the shrewdest bankers in Wall Street.
These two, at least, he knew by face, but no trained
observer could doubt that the others were of the
same kind.
Although silent and as yet casting only a shadow,
Harley felt that sooner or later these men would
cause trouble. He had an intuition that the cam
paign before them was going to be the most famous
in the Union, dealing with mighty issues and infused
with powerful personalities. Great changes had
occurred in the country in the last few years, its
centre of gravity was shifting, and the election in
November would decide many things. He felt as
if all the forces were gathering for a titanic conflict,
and his heart thrilled with the omens and presages.
It was a pleasurable thrill, too, because he was going
to be in the thick of it, right beside the general of
one of the great armies.
When they reached Milwaukee, Harley and all the
correspondents went to the same hotel with the Gray-
sons, and they remarked jocularly to the nominee that
they would watch over him now night and day until
the first Tuesday in November, and he, being a man
of tact and human sympathies, without any affecta
tions, was able to be a good fellow with them all,
merely a first among his equals.
There was a great crowd at the station, ready to
welcome the candidate, and the sound of shouting
56
THE CANDIDATE
and joyous welcome arose; but Harley, anxious to
reach the hotel, slipped from the throng and sprang
into a carriage, one of a number evidently waiting for
the Grayson party. It was a closed vehicle, and he
did not notice until he sat down that it was already
occupied, at least in part, by a lady. Then he
sprang up, red-faced and apologetic, but the lady
laughed a curious little laugh, ironic, but not wholly
unpleasant and put out a detaining hand, detaining
by way of gesture, because she did not touch him.
"You are very much surprised to find me here,
Mr. Harley," said Miss Morgan. "You thought, of
course, that I would be in the centre of that crowd, re
ceiving applause and shaking hands, just as if I were
a candidate, like my uncle James. You would not
believe me if I told you that I came here to escape it."
"Why shouldn't I believe it?"
"Because I am going to tell you that your dis
pleasure over the picture has made me feel so badly
that I am resolved to do better, to be more modest,
more retiring."
"Miss Morgan, you do me wrong," said Harley,
with reddening face. " I have had no such thoughts."
"You fib in a good cause, but you cannot deceive
me; I read your thoughts, but I am very forgiving,
and I am resolved that we shall have a pleasant ride
to the hotel together. Now, entertain me, tell me
about that war, of which you saw so much."
She was not in jest, and she compelled him to talk.
It was far from the station to the hotel, and she
revealed a knowledge of the world's affairs that
Harley thought astonishing in one coming from the
depths of the Idaho mountains. She touched, too,
upon the things that interested him most, and drew
him on until he was talking with a zest and interest
57
THE CANDIDATE
that permitted no self-consciousness. Resolved that
he would not tell what he had seen, and by nature
reserved, he was, within five minutes, under her deft
questions, in the middle of a long narrative of events
on the other side of the world. He saw her listening,
her eyes bright, her lips slightly parted, and he knew
that he held her attention. He was aware, too, that
he was flattered by the interest that he had been able
to create in the mind of this Idaho girl whose opinion
he had been holding so cheaply.
"I envy a man," she said, at last, sighing a little.
"You can go where you please and do what you please.
Even our 'advanced women' have less liberty than
the man who is not advanced at all. And yet I do
not want to be a man. That, I suppose, is a paradox."
Harley was about to make a light reply, something
in the tone of perforced compliment, but a glimpse
of her caused him to change his mind. She seemed
to have a touch of genuine sadness, and, instead, he
said nothing.
When the carriage reached the ladies' entrance
of the hotel they were still silent, and as Harley
helped her from the carriage her manner was un
changed. The little touch of sadness was yet there,
and it appealed to him. She surprised his look of
sympathy, and the color in her cheeks increased.
"I am tired," she said. "I just begin to realize
how greatly so much travelling and so many crowds
weigh upon one."
Then, with the first smile of comradeship that she
had given him, she went into the hotel.
The Graysons, Miss Morgan, Harley, Hobart, and
a few others formed a family group again at the
table, when they dined that evening, and all the
tensity and anxiety visible the day before was gone.
THE CANDIDATE
Mr. Grayson's success in Chicago had been too
complete, too sweeping to leave doubt of its con
tinuance; he would be the hero and leader of his
party, not a weight upon it, and the question now was
whether or not the party had votes enough; hence
there was a certain light and joyous air about them
which gave to their short stay in the dining-room a
finer flavor than any that a chef could add.
Churchill, of the Monitor, was not one of this
party. Churchill did not confine his criticisms to his
professional activities, but had a disposition to carry
them into private life, injecting roughness into social
intercourse, which ought to be smooth and easy.
Therefore, somewhat to his own surprise, which
ought not to have been the case, he had not become
a member of this family group, and had much to say
about the "frivolous familiarity" of Jimmy Grayson
and "his lack of dignity."
But on this evening Churchill had no desire to sit
at table with the Gray sons, because he felt that some
thing great was going to happen in his life. For more
than a day, now, he had been on the trail of a mighty
movement that he believed hidden from all save him
self and those behind this movement. He, too, had
noticed the appearance at Chicago of the heavy, rich,
elderly men, and he had spoken to one or two of them
with all the respect and deference that their eminent
position in the financial world drew from every
writer of the Monitor. And his deference had been
rewarded, because that afternoon he received a hint,
and it came from no less a personage than the Hon
orable Clinton Goodnight himself, a hint that Churchill
rightly thought was worth much to him.
There was another large hotel in Milwaukee, and it
was to this that the financiers had gone, having as-
59
THE CANDIDATE
certained first that Grayson would not be there; nor
did they intend to go to the speech that evening.
They had already, in the address at Chicago, weighed
accurately the power of Jimmy Grayson with his
party, and with wary old eyes, long used to watching
the world and its people, they had seen that it would
be great. Hence he was a man to be handled with
skill and care, to be led, not knowing that he was led,
by a bridle invisible to all save those who held it
but they, the financiers, would know very well who
held it.
It was these men to whom Churchill came, having
slipped quietly away from his associates, drawn by a
hint that he might secure an interview of great im
portance, two columns in length and exclusive.
Churchill was a true product of the Monitor, a
worshipper of accomplished facts, a supporter of
every old convention, believing that anything new or
in rough attire was bad. Although he would have
denied it if accused, he nearly always confounded
manners with morals, and to him the opinion of
Europe was final. Hence the Monitor and Churchill
were well suited to each other. Moreover, Churchill
enjoyed the society of the great that is, of those who
seemed to him to be the great and he had an ad
mirable flexibility of temperament; while easily able
and willing to be very nasty to those whom he
thought of an inferior grade, he was equally able and
willing to be extremely deferential to those whose
grade he considered superior. He was also intolerant
in opinion, thinking that any one who differed from
him on the subjects of the day was necessarily a
scoundrel, wherein he was again in perfect accord with
the Monitor.
It was, therefore, with an acute delight, blossoming
60
THE CANDIDATE
into exultation, that Churchill slipped away from his
associates and hastened towards the hotel where the
financial magnates were staying. These were really
great men, not the productions of a moment, thrown
briefly into the lime-light, but solid like the pyra
mids. Mr. Goodnight must be worth forty millions,
at the least, and he was a power in many circles.
Churchill thrilled with delight that such a being
should hint to him to come and be talked to, and he
was more than ever conscious of his own superiority
to his professional associates.
Churchill was not awed by the hotel clerk, but
haughtily asked that his card be sent at once to Mr.
Goodnight, and he concealed his pride when the
message came back that he be shown up as soon as
possible. He received it as the natural tribute to
his importance, and he took his time as he followed
the guiding hall-boy. But at the door of Mr. Good
night his manner changed; it became deferential, as
befitted modest merit in the presence of true and
recognized greatness.
Mr. Goodnight was hospitable; there was no false
pride about him; he was able in being great to be
simple also, and Mr. Crayon and the others present
shared his attractive manner.
"Ah, Mr. Churchill," he said, as he shook hands
heartily with the correspondent, "it gives me pleas
ure, indeed, to welcome you here. We noticed your
bearing in Chicago, and we were impressed by it.
We therefore had an additional pleasure when we
learned that you were the correspondent of the
Monitor, New York's ablest and most conservative
journal. The American press grows flippant and un
reliable nowadays, Mr. Churchill, but the waves of
sensationalism wash in vain around the solid base
61
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of the old Monitor. There she stands, as steady as
ever, a genuine light-house in the darkness."
Mr. Goodnight, being a member of Congress, was
able to acquire and to exhibit at convenient times
a certain poetical fervor which impressed several
kinds of people. Now his associates rubbed their
hands in admiration, and Churchill flushed with
pleasure. A compliment to the Monitor was also a
compliment to him, for was he not the very spirit
and essence of the Monitor?
"Before we get to business," continued Mr. Good
night, in the most gratifyingly intimate manner, "sup
pose we have something just to wet our throats and
promote conversation. This town, I believe, is fa
mous for beer, but it is not impossible to get cham
pagne here; in any event, we shall try it."
He rang, the champagne was brought, opened, and
drunk, and Churchill glowed with his sense of im
portance. These were men of many millions, twice
his age, but he was now one with them. Certainly
none of his associates would have been invited by
them to such a conference, and he was able to ap
preciate the fact.
"We want you, Mr. Churchill, to tell us something
about Grayson," said Mr. Goodnight, in a most kind
ly tone; "not what all the world knows, those super
ficial facts which the most careless observer may
glean, but something intimate and personal; we
want you to give us an insight into his character,
from which we may judge what he is likely to do or
become. You know that he is from the West, the
Far West, likely to be afflicted with local and pro
vincial views, not to say heresies, and great vested
interests within his own party feel a little shaky
about him. We cannot have a revolutionary, or
62
THE CANDIDATE
even a parochial, character in the presidential chair.
Those interests which are the very bulwark of the
public must be respected. We must watch over
him, and in order to know how and what to watch,
we must have information. We rely upon you to fur
nish us this information."
Churchill was intensely gratified at this tribute to
his merit, but he was resolved not to show it even to
these great men. Instead, he carelessly emptied his
champagne glass, rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and
then asked with a certain fulness of implication :
"Upon what precise point do you wish informa
tion, Mr. Goodnight? Of course, I have not been
with Mr. Grayson very long, but I can say truthfully
that I have observed him closely within that time,
and perhaps no phase of a rather complicated char
acter has escaped me."
"We feel quite sure of that," said Mr. Crayon,
speaking for the first time, and using short, choppy
sentences. "Monitor, as I happen to know, is ex
tremely careful in the selection of its men, and this,
I am journalist enough to understand, is most im
portant errand upon which it can now send member
of its staff."
Churchill bowed courteously to the deserved com
pliment, and remained silent while Mr. Goodnight
resumed the thread of talk.
"What we want to know, Mr. Churchill," he said,
"is in regard to the elements of stability in his char
acter. Will he respect those mighty interests to
which I have just alluded ? Is he, as a comparative
ly young man, and one wholly ignorant of the great
world of finance, likely to seek the opinion and ad
vice of his elders ? You know that we have the best
wishes in the world for him. His interests and ours,
63
THE CANDIDATE
if he but perceives it, run together, and it is our de
sire to preserve the utmost harmony within the
party."
Churchill bowed. Their opinion and his agreed in
the most wonderful manner. It was hard to say, in
his present exalted state, whether this circumstance
confirmed their intelligence or his, but it certainly
confirmed somebody's.
" I have already taken note of these facts," he said,
in the indifferent tone of one whose advice is asked
often, "and I have observed that Mr. Grayson's
character is immature, and, for the present at least,
superficial. But I think he can be led; a man with
a will not very strong can always be led, if those
with stronger wills happen to be near, and Mr.
Grayson's faults are due to weakness rather than
vice."
There was an exchange of significant looks among
Mr. Goodnight, Mr. Crayon, and their friends, and
then an emphatic nodding of heads, all of which in
dicated very clearly to Churchill that they admired
his acuteness of perception, and were glad to have
their own opinion confirmed by one who observed so
well.
"Wouldn't it be well to lay these facts before the
readers of the Monitor?" suggested Mr. Goodnight,
mildly. "We all know what a powerful organ the
Monitor is, and what influence it has in conservative
circles. It would be a hint to Mr. Grayson and his
friends; it would show him the path in which he
ought to walk, and it would save trouble later on in
the campaign."
Churchill's heart thrilled again. This was a greater
honor even than he had hoped for; he was to sound
the mighty trumpet note of the campaign, but his
64
THE CANDIDATE
pride would not let him show the joy that he
felt.
"In giving these views and I appreciate their
great importance shall I quote you and Mr. Cray
on ?" he asked, easily.
Mr. Goodnight mused a few moments, and twiddled
his fingers.
"We want the despatch to appear in the shape
that will give it the greatest effect, and you are with
us in that wish, Mr. Churchill," he said, confidingly.
"Now this question arises: if our names appear it
will look as if it were a matter between Mr. Grayson
and ourselves personally, which is not the case; but
if it appears on the authority of the Monitor and
your own, which is weighty, it will then stand as a
matter between Mr. Grayson and the people, and
that is a fact past denying. Now, what do you
think of it yourself, Mr. Churchill?"
Since they left it so obviously to his intelligence,
Churchill was bound to say that they were right,
and he would write the warning, merely as coming
from the great portion of the public that represented
the solid interests of the country, the quiet, thinking
people who never indulged in any foolish chase after
a will-o'-the-wisp.
Mr. Goodnight and Mr. Crayon made many further
suggestions about the points of the despatch, but
they admitted ingenuously that they were not able
to write, that they possessed no literary and effective
style, that it would be for Mr. Churchill to clothe
their crude thoughts that is, if he approved of them
in trenchant phrase and brilliant style.
There was such an air of good-fellowship, and
Churchill admitted to himself so freely that these
men might make suggestions worth while, that he
65
THE CANDIDATE
decided, moreover, as the hour was growing late, to
write the despatch there and then, and tell to the
world through the columns of the Monitor, not what
Jimmy Gray son ought to do, but all the things that
he ought not to do, and they were many. The most
important of these re ated to the tariff and the cur
rency, which, in the view of Mr. Goodnight and his
friends, should be left absolutely alone.
Paper was produced, and Churchill began to write,
often eliciting words of admiration from the others
at the conciseness and precision with which he pre
sented his views. It was cause for wonder, too, that
they should find themselves agreeing with him so
often, and they admired, also, the felicity of phrasing
with which he continued to present all these things
as the views of a great public, thus giving the de
spatch the flavor of news rather than opinion. When
it was finished and it would fill two full columns of
the Monitor the line was quite clearly drawn between
what Jimmy Grayson could do and what he could
not do '-and Churchill was proud of the conviction
that none but himself had drawn it. Mr. Gfayson,
reading this and he certainly would read it must
know that it came from inspired sources, and he
would see straight before him the path in which it
was wise for him to walk. Churchill knew that he
had rendered a great service, and he felt an honest
glow.
"I think I shall file this at once," he said, "as it is
growing late, and there is an hour's difference be
tween here and New York."
They bade him a most complimentary adieu, sug
gesting that they would be glad to hear from him
personally during the campaign, and announcing
their willingness to serve him if they could; and
66
THE CANDIDATE
Churchill left the hotel, contented with himself and
with them. When he was gone, they smiled and
expressed to each other their satisfaction. In fifteen
minutes swift operators were sending Churchill's
despatch eastward.
"KING PLUMMER
MEANWHILE the evening was proving of no less
interest to Harley than to Churchill, although in
a quite different way. He had noticed, when they
parted at the hotel door, the apparent sadness, or,
rather, the touch of the pathetic in the manner of Miss
Morgan, and he observed it again when they were
all reunited at the hotel table. Heretofore she had
been light, ironical, and bearing a full share in the talk,
but now she merely replied when spoken to directly,
and her tone had the tinge of melancholy. Mr. and
Mrs. Grayson looked at her more than once, as if they
were about to refer to some particular subject, but
always they refrained; instead, they sought t by light
talk to divert attention from her, and they succeeded
in every case but that of Harley.
It was not a long dinner, and as they returned
to the ladies' parlor they were welcomed by a loud,
joyous cry, and out of the dark of the room a big
man projected himself to greet them. His first
words were for Miss Morgan, whom he affectionately
called "Little Girl," and whom he seized by the
hands and kissed on the forehead. It was a loud
voice, but round, full, and mellow, and Harley
judged that it came from a big nature as well as a
big body.
When the man stepped into the light, Harley saw
68
THE CANDIDATE
that he was over six feet high, and with a width
according. His broad face was covered with short,
iron-gray beard, and his head was thatched with hair
equally thick and of the same gray shade. In years
he might have been fifty, and it was Harley's first
impression at this moment that the big man was
Miss Morgan's father it came to him with a rather
queer feeling that it kad never occurred to him to ask
about her parents, whether they were living or dead,
and what kind of people they were or had been.
The stranger shook hands with Mr. and Mrs.
Gray son, and expressed vocally the pleasure that
his eyes also conveyed. Harley and Hobart were the
only others present, and, turning to them, Mr. Gray-
son introduced the stranger, Mr. William Plummer
"King Plummer, you know."
Then Harley remembered vaguely, and he began
to place Mr. Plummer. He recalled allusions in the
press to one William Plummer, otherwise "King"
Plummer, who lived in the far Northwest, and who,
having amassed millions in ranching and mining, had
also become a great power in the political world,
hence his term " King, " which was more fitting in his
case than in that of many real kings. He had
developed remarkable skill in politics, and, as the
phrase went, held Idaho, his own state, in the hollow
of his hand, and in a close election could certainly
swing Montana and Wyoming as he wished, and
perhaps Utah and Washington, too.
Harley's interest instantly became keen, and he
did not take his eyes off "King" Plummer. Clearly
he was a man of power; he fairly radiated it, not
merely physically, but mentally. His gestures, his
voice, every movement indicated a vast reserve
strength. This was one of the great men whose
69
THE CANDIDATE
development the rough field of the new West had
permitted.
Harley was not alone interested in "King" Plum-
mer, but also in the kiss that he had put upon the
white forehead of Sylvia Morgan and his boisterous
joy at seeing her. Since he was not her father, it was
likely that he was her uncle, not by blood, as Jimmy
Grayson was, but as the husband of an aunt, perhaps.
Yes, this must be it, he concluded, and the kiss seemed
more reasonable.
When "King" Plummer was introduced to Harley
and Hobart, he shook hands with them most cord
ially, but as keen a man as Harley could see that he
regarded them as mere youths, or "kids," as the
" King " himself would have said. There was noth
ing depreciatory in this beyond the difference be
tween age and great achievement and youth which
had not yet had the time to fulfil its promise, and
Harley, because of it, felt no decrease of liking and
respect for "King" Plummer.
"The far Northwest is for you solidly, Jimmy,"
said the big man, with a joyous smile. "Idaho is
right in line at the head of the procession, and
Wyoming, Montana, and the others are following
close after. They haven't many votes, but they
have enough to decide this election."
Jimmy Grayson smiled. He had reason to smile.
He, too, liked "King" Plummer, and, moreover, this
was good news that he brought.
"I fancy that you have had something to do with
this," he said. "You still know how to whisper a
sweet word in the ear of the people."
The big man shook himself, laughed again, and
looked satisfied.
"Well, I have done a lot of whispering," he ad-
70
THE CANDIDATE
mitted, "if you call it whispering, though most
people, I'll gamble, would say it is like the clatter of a
mill. And I've done some riding, too, both train and
horse. The mountains are going to be all right.
Don't you forget that, Jimmy."
"And it's lucky for me that ' King' Plummer is my
friend," said Mr. Grayson, sincerely.
During this talk of politics, Sylvia Morgan was
silent, and once, when "King" Plummer laid his
big hand protectingly on her arm, she shrank slightly,
but so slightly that no one save Harley noticed, not
even the " King." The action roused doubts in his
mind. Surely a girl would not shrink from her uncle
in this manner, not from a big, kindly uncle like
Plummer.
' ' I wanted to get down to Chicago and hear you at
your first speech," went on "King" Plummer, in his
big, booming voice, that filled the room, "but I
couldn't manage it. There was a convention at
Boise" that needed a little attention one likes to look
on at those things, you know" his left eye con
tracted slightly "and as soon as that was over I
hurried down as fast as an express could bring me.
But I've read in all the papers what a howlin' success
it was, an' I'm goin' to hear you give it to the other
fellows to-night won't we, Sylvia?"
He turned to the girl for confirmation of what
needed no confirmation, and her eyes smiled into his
with a certain pride. She seemed to Harley to ad
mire his bigness, his openness of manner and speech,
and his wholesome character. After all, he was her
uncle; the look that she gave him then was that of
one who received protection, half paternal and half
elder-brotherly.
"And now, Jimmy, I guess I've taken up enough
71
THE CANDIDATE
of your time," exclaimed "King" Plummer, his big,
resonant chest-tones echoing in the room, "and it's
for you to do all the talkin' that's left. But I'll be in
a box listenin 1 , and just you do your best for the
credit of the West and the mountains."
Gray son smiled and promised, and "King" Plum
mer joined them in the carriage that bore them to
the hall. He took his place with them in such a
natural and matter-of-fact manner that Harley was
confirmed in his renewed opinion that he was Sylvia
Morgan's uncle, or, at least, her next of kin, after Mr.
Gray son.
At the hall "King" Plummer, as he had promised,
sat in a box with Mrs. Grayson and Miss Morgan, and
always he led the applause, which in reality needed no
leading, the triumph at Chicago being repeated in full
degree. Harley, watching him from his desk, saw
that the big man was filled with sanguine expec
tation of triumph, and, with the glow of Jimmy
Grayson's oratory upon him, could not see any such
result as defeat. But Miss Morgan was strangely
silent, and all her vivacity of manner seemed to be
gone.
When the speech was nearly over Churchill saun
tered in lazily by the stage entrance and took a seat
near Harley. Harley had not noticed his previous
absence until then.
"How's the speech to-night?" he asked, languidly;
"same old chestnuts, I suppose."
"As this is Mr. Grayson's second speech," replied
Harley, sharply, "it is a little early to call anything
that he says 'same old chestnuts.' Besides, I don't
think that repetition will ever be one of his faults.
Why haven't you been here?"
"Oh, I've been cruising around a bit on the out-
THE CANDIDATE
side. The Associated Press, of course, will take care
of the speech, which is mere routine."
He spoke with such an air of supercilious and
supreme satisfaction that Harley looked at him
keenly.
"Pick up anything?" he asked, briefly.
"Oh, a trifle or two; nothing, however, that you
would care about."
" Now, I wonder what it is that makes him so con
tent with himself," thought Harley, but he had little
time to devote to Churchill, as his own despatch was
occupying his attention.
Harley could not go back to the hotel with the
Grayson party when the speech was over, as he had
to file his despatch first, but he saw them all the
next morning at the breakfast-table. " King" Plum-
mer was there, too, as expansive as ever, and showing
mingled joy and sorrow joy over the second triumph
of the candidate, which was repeated at great length
in the morning papers, and sorrow because he could
not continue with them on the campaign, which
moved to Detroit for the third night.
"I'd be a happy man if I could do it," he said, in
his booming tones, "happy for more reasons than
one. It would be a big holiday to me. Wouldn't
I enjoy hearing you tear the enemy to pieces night
after night, Jimmy! and then I'd be with you right
along, Sylvia."
He looked at the girl, and his look was full of 'ove
and protection. She flushed and seemed embarrass
ed. But there was no hesitation or awkwardness
about the big man.
"Never you mind, little girl," he said; "when you
are Mrs. Plummer an' that ain't far away, I hope
1 you'll be with me all the time. Besides, I'm goin*
73
THE CANDIDATE
to join Jimmy Grayson when he comes out West, an'
make the campaign there with him."
The color in Miss Morgan's face deepened, and
she glanced, not at "King" Plummer or her uncle,
but at Harley, and when her eyes met his the color
in her cheeks deepened still further. Then she look
ed down at her plate and was silent and embarrassed.
Harley, as he heard these words of the "King,"
felt a strange thrill of disapproval. It was, as he
told himself, because of the disparity in ages. It
was true that a man of this type was the very kind
to restrain Sylvia Morgan, but twenty and fifty
should never wed, man and wife should be young
together and should grow old together. It was no
business of his, and there was no obligation upon
him to look after the happiness of either of these
people, but it was an arrangement that he did not
like, violating as it did his sense of fitness.
"King" Plummer was to leave them an hour later,
taking a train for St. Paul, and thence for Idaho.
He bade them all a hearty good-bye, shaking hands
warmly with Jimmy Grayson, to whom he wished a
career of unbroken triumph, repeating these good
wishes to Mrs. Grayson, and again kissing Sylvia
Morgan on the forehead the proper kiss, Harley
thought, for fifty to bestow upon twenty, unless
twenty should happen to be fifty's daughter.
" We won't be separated long, Sylvia, girl," he said,
and she flushed a deep red and then turned pale. To
Harley he said:
"And I'll try to show you the West, young man,
when you come out there. This is no West; Mil
waukee ain't West by a jugful. Just you wait till
you get beyond the Missouri, then we'll show you
the real West, and real life at the same time."
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THE CANDIDATE
There was a certain condescension in the tone of
" King" Plummer, but Harley did not mind it; so far
as the experience of life in the rough was concerned,
the "King" had a right to condescend.
"I shall hold you to your promise," he said.
Then "King" Plummer, waving good-byes with a
wide-armed sweep, large and hearty like himself, de
parted.
"There goes a true man," said Mr. Grayson, and
Harley spontaneously added confirmation. But Miss
Morgan was silent. She waved back in response to
the King of the Mountains, but her face was still
pale, and she was silent for some time. Harley now
knew that "King" Plummer was not her uncle nor
her next of kin after Jimmy Grayson in any way,
but he was unable to tell why this marriage-to-be
had been arranged.
But he quickly learned the secret, if secret it was ;
it was told to him on the train by Mrs. Grayson as
they rode that afternoon to Detroit.
" If you were ever in Idaho," she said, "you would
soon hear the story of "King" Plummer and Sylvia.
It is a tragedy of our West ; that is, it began in a great
tragedy, one of those tragedies of the plains and the
mountains so numerous and so like each other that
the historians forget to tell about them. Sylvia's
mother was Mr. Grayson's eldest sister, much older
than he. She and her husband and children were
part T)f a wagon-train that was going up away into
the Northwest where the railroads did not then
"' It was long ago when Sylvia was a little girl , not
TOore than seven or eight and the train was massacred
by Utes just as they reached the Idaho line. The
Utes were on the war-path there had been some
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sort of an outbreak and the train had been warned
by the soldiers not to go on, but the emigrants were
reckless. They laughed at danger, because they did
not see it before their faces. They pushed on, and
they were ambushed in a deep canyon.
"There was hardly any fight at all, the attack was
so sudden and unexpected. Before the people knew
what was coming half of them were shot down, and
then those awful savages were among them with
tomahawk and knife. Mr. Harley, I've no use for
the Indian. It is easy enough to get sentimental
about him when you are away off in the East, but
when you are close to him in the West all that feel
ing goes. I heard Sylvia tell about that massacre
once, and only once. It was years ago, but I can't for
get it ; and if I can't forget it, do you think that she
can ? Her father was killed at the first fire from the
bushes, and then an Indian, covered with paint and
bears' claws, tomahawked both her mother and her
little brother before her eyes yes, and scalped them,
too. He ran for the girl next, but Sylvia I think
it was just physical impulse dashed away into the
scrub, and the Indian turned aside for a victim near
er at hand.
"Sylvia lay hid until night came, and there was
silence over the mountain, the silence of death, Mr.
Harley, because when she slipped back in the dark
ness to the emigrant train she found every soul that
had been in it, besides herself, dead. Think, Mr. Har
ley, of that little girl alone in all those vast moun
tains, with her dead around her ! Do you wonder
that sometimes she seems hard?"
"No, I don't," replied Harley. Despite himself a
mist came to his eyes over this pathetic tragedy of
long ago.
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"Sylvia has never said much about that night
she spent there with the dead, in the midst of the
wrecked and plundered train, but when a number of
border men, alarmed about the emigrants, pushed
on the next day to save them if possible, what do
you suppose they found her doing?"
"I can't guess."
"She had got a spade somewhere from one of the
wagons, and, little as she was, she was trying to
bury her own dead. She was so busy that she didn't
see them ride up, and William Plummer, their leader
he was a young man then actually shed tears, so
they say. Well, these men finished the burial, and
Mr. Plummer put Sylvia on his horse before him and
rode away. He adopted the little thing as his
daughter. He said she was the bravest creature he
had ever seen, and, as he was not likely to have any
real daughter, she should take a place that ought to
be filled.
"Were the Utes who did this massacre punished?"
"No one knows; the soldiers killed a number of
them in battle, but whether the slain were those who
ambushed the train is not decided in border history."
" I think I understand the rest of the story of Mr.
Plummer and Miss Morgan," said Harley.
"Yes, it is not hard to guess. Mr. Grayson and
her other relatives farther East did not hear of her
rescue until long afterwards ; they supposed her dead
but no one could have cared for her better than
Mr. Plummer. He kept her first at his mining-hut
in the mountains, but after two or three years he
took her into town to Bois ; he put her in the care of
a woman there and sent her to school. He loved
her already like a real daughter. She was just the
kind to appeal to him, so brave and so fond of the
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wild life. They say that at first she refused to stay
iri Boise". She ran away and tried to go on foot to
him away up in the mountains, where the mining-
camp was. When he heard of it, they say he laugh
ed, and I suspect that he swore an oath or two he
lived among rough men you know but if he did,
they were swear wor.ds of admiration; he said it was
just like her independence and pluck. But he made
her stay in Boise"."
" He knew what was right and what was due both
him and her, because now he was becoming a great
man in the Northwest. He rose to power in both
financial and public life, and his daughter must be
equal to her fortune. But he spoiled her, you can
see that, and how could he help it?"
"She was fifteen before we heard that she was
alive, and then Mr. Grayson and her other relatives
wanted to take her and care for her, but Mr. Plummer
refused to give her up, and he was right. He had
saved her when he found her a little girl alone in all
those vast mountains, and he was entitled to her.
Don't you think so, Mr. Harley?"
"I do," replied Harley, with conviction.
"We yielded to his superior claim, but he sent her
more than once to see us. We loved her from the
first, and we love her yet."
Here Mrs. Grayson paused and hesitated over her
words, as if in embarrassment.
" But it is not you and Mr. Grayson alone who love
her," suggested Harley.
"It is not we alone; in Boise everybody loves her,
and at the mines and on Mr. Plummer's ranches they
all love her, too."
"I did not mean just that kind of love."
Mrs. Grayson flushed a little, but she continued:
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"You are speaking of Mr. Plummer himself; she
was his daughter at first, and so long as she was a
little girl I suppose that he never dreamed of her in
any other light. But when she began to grow into a
young woman, Mr. Harley and a beautiful one, too,
as beautiful as she is good he began to look at her in
a different way. When these elderly men, who have
been so busy that they have not had time to fall in
love, do fall in love, the fall is sudden and complete.
Mr. Plummer was like the others. And what else
could she do ? She was too young to have seen much
of the world. There was no young man, none of her
own age, who had taken her heart. Mr. Plummer is a
good man, and she owed him everything. Of course,
she accepted him. I ask you, what else could she
do?"
There was a defensive note in her voice when she
said: "I ask you, what else could she do?" and
Harley replied, with due deliberation:
"Perhaps she could do nothing else, but sometimes,
Mrs. Gray son, I have my doubts whether twenty and
fifty can ever go happily together."
"We like Mr. Plummer, and he is a great friend of
my husband's."
Harley said nothing, but he, too, liked Mr. Plummer,
and he held him in the highest respect. It required
little effort of the imagination to draw a picture
of the brave mountaineer riding from the Indian
massacre with that little girl upon his saddle-bow.
And much of his criticism of Sylvia Morgan herself
was disarmed. She was more a child of the mountains
even than his first fancy had made her, and it was not
a wonder that her spirit was often masculine in its
strength and boldness. It was involuntary, but he
thought of her with new warmth and admiration.
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Incited by this feeling, he soon joined her and the
group that was with her. He had expected to find
her sad and comparatively silent, but he had never
seen her in a more lively mood, full of light talk and
jest and a gay good-humor that could not have failed
to infect the most hardened cynic. Certainly he did
not escape its influence, nor did he seek to do so, but
as he watched her he thought there was a slight
touch of feverishness to her high spirits, as if she had
just escaped from some great danger.
Before they reached Detroit he talked a while with
Mr. Grayson, in the private drawing-room of the car
Mrs. Grayson had joined the others and "King"
Plummer was the subject of their talk.
"Is he really such a great political power in the
Northwest?" asked Harley.
"He is. Even greater than popular report makes
him. I believe that in a presidential election he could
decide the vote of five or six of those lightly populated
states. He has so many interests, so many strings
that he holds, and he is a man of so much energy and
will. You see, I want to keep "King" Plummer my
friend."
"I surely would, if I were in your place," said
Harley, with conviction.
VI
ON THE ROAD
THE great success of Gray son as an orator was
continued at Detroit. A vast audience hung
breathless upon his words, and he played upon its
emotions as he would, now thrilling the people with
passion, and then stirring them to cheers that rolled
like thunder. It became apparent that this hitherto
obscure man from the Far West was the strongest
nominee a somewhat disunited party could have
named, and Harley, whose interest at first had been
for the campaign itself rather than its result, began to
have a feeling that after all Grayson might be elected
at least he had a fighting chance, which might be
more if it were not for the shadow of Goodnight,
Crayon, and their kind. Part of these men had
gone back, among them the large and important
Mr. Goodnight ; but Harley saw the quiet Mr. Crayon
still watching from a high box at Detroit, and he
knew that no act or word of the candidate would
escape the scrutiny of this powerful faction within the
party.
Ample proof of his conclusion, if it were needed,
came the next morning in a copy of the New York
Monitor, Churchill's paper, Which contained on its
front page a long, double-leaded despatch, under a
Milwaukee date line. It was Hobart who brought it
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in to Mr. Grayson and his little party at the break
fast-table.
"Excuse me for interrupting you, Mr. Grayson,"
he said, flourishing the paper as if it were a sort of
flag; "but here is something that you are bound to
see. It's what might be called a word in your ear, or,
at least, it seems to me to have that sound. I guess
that Churchill got a beat on us all in Milwaukee."
"I wish you would join us, Mr. Hobart, and read
the whole article to us, if you will be so kind," said
the candidate, calmly.
Nothing could have pleased Hobart better, and he
read with emphasis and care, resolved that his hearers
should not lose a word. Churchill had a good style,
and he possessed a certain skill in innuendo, therefore
he was able throughout the article to make his mean
ing clear. He stated that among those surrounding the
candidate he could give names if he would, but it
was not necessary there was a certain feeling that
Mr. Grayson was not quite at least not yet as large
as the position for which he had been nominated.
Keen observers had noticed in him a predisposition to
rashness; he had spoken lightly more than once of
great vested interests.
"Uncle James, how could you be so lacking in
reverence?" exclaimed Sylvia Morgan.
Mr. Grayson merely smiled.
"Go on, Mr. Hobart," he said.
" ' But some of the ablest minds in the country
are closely watching Mr. Grayson,' " continued the
article, " ' and where he needs support or restraint he
will receive it. There are certain issues not em
bodied in the platform from which he will be steered.' '
"Now, I think that is too much!" exclaimed Mrs.
Grayson, the indignant red rising in her cheeks.
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"Their printing it does not make it true, Anna,"
said the candidate, mildly.
"As if you did not know enough to run your own
campaign!" exclaimed the indignant wife.
But Jimmy Grayson continued to smile. " We must
expect this sort of thing," he said; " it would be a dull
campaign without it. Please go on, Mr. Hobart."
A number of eminent citizens, the article con
tinued, would make a temporary sacrifice of their
great business interests for the sake of the campaign
and the people, and with their restraining care it was
not likely that Mr. Grayson could go far wrong, as he
seemed to be an amiable man, amenable to advice.
Thus it continued at much length, and Harley, keen
and experienced in such matters, knew very well
whence Churchill had drawn his inspiration.
"The editor, also, makes comment upon this
warning," said Hobart, who was undeniably enjoying
himself.
"I should think that the despatch was enough,"
said Mrs. Grayson, whose indignation was not yet
cooled.
"But it isn't, Mrs. Grayson," said Hobart; "at
least, the editor of the Monitor does not think so.
Listen.
' ' The campaign in behalf of our party has begun
in the West, and we have felt the need of thoroughly
reliable news from that quarter, free from the sen
sationalism and levity which we are sorry to say so
often disgrace our American newspapers, and make
them compare unfavorably with the graver and
statelier columns of the English press.'"
"He is an Englishman himself," said Harley
"American opinion through an English channel,"
Even Jimmy Grayson laughed,
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"'At last we have obtained this information,'"
continued Hobart, reading, '"and we are able to
present it to-day to those earnest and sincere people,
the cultivated minority who really count, and who
constitute the leaven in the mass of the light and
frivolous American people. A trusted correspondent
of ours, judicious, impartial, absolutely devoid of
prejudices, has obtained from high sources with which
common journalistic circles are never in touch '"
"How the bird befouls its own nest!" said the
elderly Tremaine.
" ' information that will throw much light upon a
campaign and a candidate both obscure hitherto.
This we present upon another page, and, as our
cultivated readers will readily infer, the candidate,
Mr. Grayson, is not a bad man ' "
"Thanks for that crowning mercy," said Mr. Gray-
son.
'" but neither is he a great one; in short, he is, at
least for the present, narrow and provincial; more
over, he is of an impulsive temperament that is likely
to lead him into untrodden and dangerous paths. Our
best hope lies in the fact that Mr. Grayson, who has
not shown himself intractable, may be brought to
see this, and will rely upon the advice of those who
are fitted to lead rather than upon the reckless
fancies of the Boys who are sure to surround him if
he gives them a chance. In this emergency we are
sure that all the best in the state will rally with us.
The eyes of Europe are upon us, and we must vindi
cate ourselves.'"
"Uncle James," said Sylvia Morgan, sweetly, "I
trust that you will remember throughout the cam
paign that the eye of Europe is upon you, and con
duct yourself accordingly. I have noticed that in
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many of your speeches you seemed to be uncon
scious of the fact that Vienna and St. Petersburg
were watching you. Such behavior will never do."
Mr. Grayson smiled once more. He seemed to be
less disturbed than any one else at the table, yet he
knew that this was in truth a warning given by an
important wing of the party, and, therefore, he must
take thought of it. A prominent politician of Michi
gan was present, the guest of Mr. Grayson, and he
did not take the threat as calmly as the candidate.
"The writer of this despatch is with your party, I
suppose," he said to Mr. Grayson.
" Oh yes; it is Mr. Churchill. He has been with us
since the start."
"I would not let him go a mile farther; a man who
writes like that why, it's a positive insult to you!
should not be allowed on your train."
The Michigan man's face flushed red, and in his
anger he brought his hand down heavily on the table ;
but Harley did not look at him, his full attention
being reserved for the candidate. Here was a test
of his bigness. Would he prove equal to it ?
" I am afraid that would be a mistake," said Jimmy
Grayson, amiably, to the Michigan man, "a mistake
in two respects : our Constitution guarantees the free
dom of the press, and the Monitor and its corre
spondent have a right to write that way, if they wish
to do so; and if we were to expel Mr. Churchill, it
would give them all the greater ground for complaint.
Now, perhaps I am, after all, a narrow and ignorant
person who needs restraint."
He spoke the last sentence in such a whimsical
tone and with such a frank smile that they were all
forced to laugh, even the Michigan man. But Har
ley felt relief. The candidate had shown no littleness.
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" I was sure that you would return such an answer,
Uncle James," said Sylvia Morgan, and the look that
she gave him was full of faith. "Now, I mean to
help you by converting Mr. Churchill."
"How will you do that?"
"I shall smile upon him, use my winning ways,
and draw him into the fold."
There was a slight edge to her voice, and Harley
was not sure of her meaning; but he and she were
together in the parlor an hour later, when they met
Churchill, and he had a chance to see. Churchill
evidently was not expecting to find them there, but
he assumed an important air, knowing that his de
spatches had been received and read, and feeling,
therefore, that he was the author of a sensation.
He anticipated hostility; he believed that Mr. Gray-
son's relatives and friends would assail him with
harsh words, and he had spoken already to one or
two persons of the six months' ordeal that he would
have to endure. "But we must stand such things
when they are incurred in the line of duty," he said,
"and I have a way which, perhaps, will teach them
to be not so ready in attacking me." He expected
such a foray against him now, and his manner became
haughty in the presence of Sylvia Morgan and Harley.
"We that is, all of us have just been reading
your despatch in the Monitor," she said, in a most
winning tone, "and on behalf of Uncle James I want
to thank you, Mr. Churchill."
Churchill looked surprised but doubtful, and did
not abate the stiffness of his attitude nor the severity
of his gaze.
"We do feel grateful to you," she continued, in
the same winning tone. "There was never a man
more willing than Uncle James to learn, and, coming
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out of the depths of the West, he knows that he
needs help. And how beautifully you write, Mr.
Churchill! It was all put so delicately that no one
could possibly take offence."
It was impossible to resist her manner, the honey
of her words, and Churchill, who felt that she was
but giving credit where credit was due, became less
stern.
"Do you really like it, Miss Morgan?" he asked,
and he permitted himself a smile.
"Oh yes," she replied, "and I noticed that the
Monitor alone contained an article of this character,
all about those big men who are watching over Uncle
James, and will not let him go wrong. That is what
you correspondents call a beat, isn't it?"
Churchill gave Harley a glance of triumph, but he
replied, gravely:
"I believe it is what we call a beat, Miss Morgan."
"And you will continue to help us in the same
way, won't you, Mr. Churchill?" she continued.
"You know who those great men are; Mr. Harley,
here, I am sure does not, nor does Mr. Blaisdell nor
Mr. Hobart ; you alone, as the Monitor says, can come
into touch with such important circles, and you will
warn us again and again in the columns of the Monitor
when we are about to get into the wrong path. Oh,
it would be a great service, and I know that Uncle
James would appreciate it! You will be with us
throughout the campaign, and you will have the
chance! Now, promise me, Mr. Churchill, that you
will do it."
Her manner had become most appealing, and her
face was slightly flushed. It was not the first time
that Harley realized how handsome she was, and how
winning she could be. It was his first thought, then,
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what a woman this mountain maid would make, and
his second that "King " Plummet should continue to
look upon her as his daughter she was too young
to be his wife.
Nor was Churchill proof against her beauty and
her blandishments. He felt suddenly that for her
sake he could overlook some of Mr. Grayson's faults,
or at least seek to amend them. It was not hard to
make a promise to a pair of lovely eyes that craved
his help.
"Well, Miss Morgan," he said, graciously, "since
it is you who ask it, I will do my best. You know I
am not really hostile to Mr. Gray son. The Monitor
and I are of his party, and we shall certainly sup
port him as long as he will let us."
"You are so kind!" she said. "You have seen so
much of the world, Mr. Churchill, that you can help
us greatly. Uncle James, as I told you, is always
willing to learn, and he will keep a sharp watch on
the Monitor."
"The Monitor, as I need not tell you," said Church
ill, "is the chief organ in New York of good govern
ment, and it is never frivolous or inconsequential.
I had hoped that what I sent from Milwaukee would
have its effect, and I am glad to see, Miss Morgan,
that it has."
Churchill now permitted himself a smile longer
and more complacent, and Harley felt a slight touch
of pity that any man should be blinded thus by con
ceit. And Sylvia did not spare him; by alternate
flattery and appeal she drew him further into the
toils, and Harley was surprised at her skill. She
did not seem to him now the girl from Idaho, the
child of the mountains and of massacre, but a woman
of variable moods, and all of them attractive, no whit
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inferior to her Eastern sisters in the delicate airs and
graces that he was wont to associate with feminine
perfection.
As for Churchill, he yielded completely to her spell,
not without some condescension and a memory of his
own superiority, but he felt himself willing to comply
with her request, particularly because it involved no
sacrifice on his own part. He and the Monitor would
certainly keep watch over Mr. Grayson, and he would
never hesitate to write the words of warning when
ever he felt that they were needed.
" Why did you treat him that way ?" asked Harley,
when Churchill had gone.
"What do you mean by 'that way'?" she asked,
and her chin took on a saucy uplift.
"Well, to be plain, why did you make a fool of
him?"
"Was my help needed?"
Harley laughed.
"Don't be too hard on Churchill," he said, "he's
the creature of circumstance. Besides, you must not
forget that he is going to watch over Mr. Grayson."
Churchill did not join the general group until
shortly before the departure for the evening speech,
and then he approached with an undeniable air of
hostility and defence, expecting to be attacked and
having in readiness the weapons with which he had
assured himself that he could repel them. Miss
Morgan, it is true, had received him well, but she,
so he had begun to believe, was a girl of perception
and discrimination, and the fine taste shown by her
would not be exhibited by others. The candidate,
surprising him much, received him cordially, though
not effusively, and he was made welcome in similar
manner by the others. There was no allusion what-
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ever to his despatch, but he found himself included
in the general gossip, just as if he were one of a
group of good comrades.
Yet Churchill was not wholly pleased. His great
stroke seemed to be ignored by all except Miss
Morgan, when they ought to be stirred deeply by it,
and he felt a sense of diminished importance. There
should be confusion among them, or at least trep
idation. He closely studied the faces of Mr. Gray-
son and the others to see if they were merely masking
their fire, but no attack came either then or later.
Thus two or three days passed, and the campaign
deepened and popular interest increased. Not since
the eve of the Civil War had there been such com
plexity and intensity of interests, and never before
had the personal factor been so strong. Out of the
vast turmoil quickly emerged James Grayson as the
most picturesque figure that ever appeared upon the
stage of national politics in America. His powerful
oratory, his daring, and his magnetic personality
drew the eyes of all, and Harley saw that wherever
he might be there the fight would be thickest. The
correspondent's intuition had been right; he had
come from a war on the other side of the world to
enter another and greater campaign, one in which
mind counted for more.
The candidate, in his rising greatness, was even a
hero to his own family; and from none did he draw
greater admiration than from his niece, Sylvia
Morgan. A fierce champion of the West, she always
bitterly resented the unconscious patronage of the
East, which was really the natural patronage of age
rather than of convinced superiority; and her uncle's
triumph filled her with delight, because, to her mind,
it was the triumph of the West that she loved so well,
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Inspired with this feeling, she appealed to Harley
about the sixth or seventh day of the campaign for
his opinion on its result, and the correspondent
hesitated over his answer. He found that his feeling
towards her in this week had changed greatly, the
elements in her character, which at first seemed to
him masculine and forwa d, were now much modified
and softened; always the picture of that child in the
mountains, alone among her dead, rose before him,
and then followed the picture of the little girl borne
away on his saddle-bow by the brave borderer. He
would think of her now with a singular softness, a real
pity for those misty days which she herself had almost
forgotten. Hence he hesitated, because what he
deemed to be the truth would have in it a sting for
her. But her clear eyes instantly read his hesitation.
"You need not be afraid to tell me your real
opinion, Mr. Harley," she said. "If you think the
chances are against Uncle James, I should like you
to say so."
"I do think they are against him now, although
they may not be so later on," replied he, equivocating
with himself a little. " It is an uphill fight, and then
one can easily deceive one's self; in a nation of eighty
or ninety millions even a minority can surround a
candidate with a multitude of people and a storm
of enthusiasm."
"But Uncle James is the greatest campaigner ever
nominated for the Presidency," she said, "and we
shall yet win."
Harley said nothing in reply, but he gladly noticed
her refusal to be discouraged, like other people having
an admiration for courage and spirit. In fact, it
seemed to him that she had a cheerfulness somewhat
beyond the occasion.
9 1
THE CANDIDATE
Three days later they were in Pittsburg then
she received a letter addressed in a strong, heavy
hand, her name being spelled in large letters. Sylvia
Morgan was alone in the hotel parlor when it was
brought to her, and a strange shadow, or rather the
shadow of a shadow, came over her face as she held it
uneasily in her fingers and looked at the Idaho post
mark in the corner. She knew the handwriting well,
and she knew that it was a true index to the character
of its author rough, strong, and large. That hand
writing could not lie, neither could he. She con
tinued to hesitate, with the letter in her hand; it was
the first time that she had ever done so with a letter
of his, and she felt that she was disloyal. She heard
a voice in the other parlor the wide doors between
were open; it was the voice of Harley speaking to
her uncle, and a flush crept into her cheeks. Then she
shook herself in a sudden little whirl of anger, and
abruptly opened the letter with a swift, tearing sound.
It was a longer letter than he usually wrote, and he
said:
"Mv DEAREST LITTLE SYLVIA, I have been here just two
hours, and, I tell you, the sight of Idaho is good for the eyes,
though it would be better if you were here with me, as you
soon will be all the time, little one."
She paused a moment, looking away, and the
shadow of the shadow came back to her face. Then
she murmured: "He is the best man in the world,"
and resolutely went on:
"The more I see of the other states the better I like Idaho,
and I like next best those that are most like it. Every peak
out here nodded a welcome to me as I came in on the train.
I've known them all for thirty years. I was a little afraid of
them at first, they were so tall and solemn with their white
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crests, but we are old friends now I'll have' a white crest
myself before long, and I'm fairly tall now, though perhaps
I'll never be solemn. And I drew a deep breath and a long
breath, the first one in days, the moment I crossed the Idaho
line. The East sits rather heavy on me [he called Chicago the
East], and my eyes get tired with so many people passing
before them. Now, I'm not running down the East, which
is all right in its own way, but I am glad we have so much
mountain and unwatered plain out here, because then the
people can never get so thick that they tread on you; not
that they mean to do it, but crowds shove just because they
can't help it."
Sylvia smiled, and for a moment there was a little
moisture in her eyes. "Good old daddy," she
murmured. Somehow, the pet name "daddy"
seemed just to fit him. Then the resolute little
frown came over her face again and she went on.
" As I said, Idaho is a good state. I like it when I am here,
and I like it all the better when I come back to it. God's
people live in these Rocky Mountain states, and that is a
reason why I am so red-hot to have your uncle James elected.
He is one of God's people, too, and they have never yet had
a man of ours sitting in the White House down there at
Washington and bossing the job. I think maybe he will
teach them a new trick or two in running the old ship of
state. But, Sylvia, I am not thinking so much even of him
as I am of you. I know that I am a good deal older than
you, as people count years, but I can truly say that my
heart is young, and I think that I will be a husky chap for
a good long time to come. You know I've had you nearly
all your life, Sylvia, and we have the advantage of knowing
each other. You are on to all my curves that is, you don't
have to get married to me to learn my failings.
"I guess I haven't the polish that those Eastern fellows
put on, or that is put on them, but out here in the mountains
I amount to somebody you must let me brag a little,
Sylvia and if a man doesn't bow pretty low to Mrs. William
Plummer, I'll have to get out my old six-shooter I haven't
carried one now for ten years and shoot all the hair off the
top of his head."
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THE CANDIDATE
"He thinks he's joking, but I believe he would do
it. Dear old daddy!" murmured Sylvia.
"I think you ought to become Mrs. Plummer now, Sylvia,
but I guess I'm willing to wait until this campaign is over.
For one ought to be willing to wait, if by waiting he can get
such a good thing. Still, I hate to think of you away off
there in the East, so many thousands of miles away from
me, where there are no friendly old mountains to look down
on you and watch over you, and I'm glad that my little girl
is coming West again soon. I'll try to get down part of the
way, say to Nebraska or Kansas, to meet you. I feel safer
when I have you close by; then, if any of those young Eastern
fellows should try to kidnap you and run away with you,
my old six-shooter might have a word to say."
The sudden flush rose to her cheeks at this new
joke, but she murmured nothing. The rest of the
letter was about people whom they knew in Boise
and elsewhere in Idaho, and it closed:
"Don't think I'm growing gushing at my age, Sylvia, but
Idaho, fine as she is, isn't near complete without you, and
this is why I want you back in it just as soon as you can
come: Yours, lovingly,
"WILLIAM PLUMMER."
She folded the letter carefully and put it back in
the envelope. Then she sat for a long time, and
her look was one of mingled tenderness and sadness.
Her mind, too, ran back into the past, and she had
a dim vision of the little child, who was herself, borne
away on his saddle-horn by the strong mountaineer,
who held her safely in the hollow of his arm. And
then the years followed, and she always looked to
the mountaineer for the protection and the love that
were never wanting, but it was always the protection
and love of one older and stronger than herself, one
who belonged to the generation preceding her own.
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THE CANDIDATE
Mr. Grayson, Harley, and the others were gone,
and she heard no voices in the next parlor. She
realized with suddenness how strongly and in how
brief a time this little group, travelling through a
vast country, had become welded together by the
very circumstances of their travel the comradeship
of the road and she sighed. She and Mrs. Grayson
were about to leave them and return to the Grayson
home in the West, because women, no matter how
nearly related, could not be taken all the way on an
arduous campaign of six months. She had enjoyed
this life, which was almost the life of a soldier the
crowds, the enthusiasm, the murmur, then the cheers
of thousands of voices, the flight on swift trains from
one city to another, the dash for the station some
times before daylight, and all the freshness and keen
ness of youth about her. She had affiliated, she had
become one of the group, and now that she was to
leave it for a while she had a deep sense of loss.
There was a step beside her, and Mrs. Grayson,
the quiet, the tactful, and the observant, entered.
"Why, Sylvia," she said, "you are sitting in the
dark!"
She touched the button, turned on the electric
lights, and noticed the letter lying in the girl's hand.
Her glance passed swiftly to Sylvia's face and as
swiftly passed away. She knew instinctively the
writer of the letter, but she said nothing, waiting for
Sylvia herself to speak.
"I have a letter from Mr. Plummer," said Sylvia.
"What does he say?"
"Not much besides his arrival at Boise" just some
foolishness of his; you know how he loves to jest."
"Yes, I have long known that," said Mrs. Gray-
son, but she noticed that Sylvia made no offer to
95
THE CANDIDATE
show the letter. Hitherto the letters of " King " Plum-
mer had been read by all the Graysons as a matter
of course, just as one shares interesting news.
"He is a good man, and he will be a good hus
band," said Mrs. Grayson. She was for the mo
ment ruthless with a purpose, and when she said the
words, although affecting not to watch, she saw the
girl flinch ever so little, but still she flinched.
"The best man in the world," repeated Sylvia
Morgan, softly.
"And yet there are other good men," said Mrs.
Grayson, quietly. "One good man does not exclude
the existence of another."
Sylvia looked up at her, but she failed to take her
meaning. Her quiet aunt sometimes spoke in par
ables, and waited for events to disclose her meaning.
Mrs. Grayson and Miss Morgan were to leave for
the West the next afternoon, and shortly before
their departure Harley came to tell them a tem
porary good-bye. Sylvia and he chanced to be alone
for a little while, and she genuinely lamented her de
parture they had become franker friends in these
later days.
"I do not see why women cannot go through a
political campaign from beginning to end," she said;
"I'm sure we can help Uncle James, and there will
be, too, so many interesting things to see. It will be
like a war without the wounds and death. I don't
want to miss any of it."
"I half agree with .you," said Harley, smiling,
"and I know that it would be a great deal nicer for
the rest of us if you and Mrs. Grayson could go
along."
He paused, and he had a sudden bold thought.
" If anything specially interesting happens that
96
THE CANDIDATE
the newspapers don't tell about, will you let me write
you an account of it?" he asked. "I should really
like to tell you."
She flushed ever so little, but she was of the free-
and-open West, and Harley always gave her the im
pression of courteous strength he would take no
liberties.
"You can write," she said, briefly, and then she
immediately regretted her decision. It was the
thought of "King" Plummer that made her regret
it, but she had too much pride to change it now.
Harley was at the train with Mr. Grayson when
she and Mrs. Grayson left, and Sylvia found that
he had seen to everything connected with their jour
ney. Without making any noise, and without ap
pearing to work much, he accomplished a good deal.
She had an impulse once to thank him, but she re
strained it, and she gave him a good-bye that was
neither cool nor warm, just sufficiently conventional
to leave no inference whatever. But when the train
was gone and Mr. Grayson and he were riding back
in the cab to the hotel, the candidate spoke of her.
"She's a good girl, Harley," he said he and Har
ley had grown to be such friends that he now dropped
the "Mr." when he spoke directly to the correspond
ent. "She's real, as true as steel."
He spoke with emphasis, but Harley said nothing.
The group seemed to lose much of its vividness,
color, and variety when the women departed, but
they settled down to work, the most intense and ex
acting that Harley had ever known. All the great
qualities of the candidate came out ; he seemed to be
made of iron, and on the stump he was without an
equal; if any one in the audience was ready with a
troublesome question, he was equally ready with an
7 97
THE CANDIDATE
apt reply; nor could they disturb his good humor;
and his smiling irony! the rash fool who sought to
deride him always found the laugh turned upon him
self.
Throughout the East the party was stirred to
mighty enthusiasm, and their antagonists, who had
thought the election a foregone conclusion, were
roused from their security. Again the combat deep
ened and entered upon a yet hotter phase. Mean
while Mr. Goodnight, Mr. Crayon, and their power
ful faction within the party, kept quiet for the time.
Mr. Gray son was not yet treading on their toes, but
he knew, and his friends knew, that they were watch
ing every motion of his with a hundred eyes. Church
ill's Monitor was constantly coming, laden with sug
gestion, advice, and warning, and Churchill himself
alternately wore a look of importance and disap
pointment. No one ever made the slightest reference
to his wise despatches. He had expected to be in
sulted, to be persecuted, to be a martyr for duty's
sake, and, lo! he was treated always with courtesy,
but his great work was ignored; he felt that they
must see it, but then they might be too dull to notice
its edge and weight. He now drew a certain con
solation from his silent suffering, and strengthened
himself anew for the task which he felt required a
delicate and thoughtful mind.
Harley wrote several times to Sylvia Morgan, both
at Boise" and at her aunt's home long, careful letters,
in which he strove to confine himself to the purely
narrative form, and to make these epistles interesting
as documents. He spoke of many odd personal de
tails by the way, and even at the distance of two
thousand miles he continued to touch the campaign
with the breath of life, although told at second-hand.
98
THE CANDIDATE
The replies came in due time, brief, impersonal,
thanking him for his trouble, and giving a little news
of Mrs. Grayson, "King" Plummer, and herself.
Harley was surprised to see with what terseness,
strength, and elegance she expressed herself. "Per
haps there is a force in those mountains which un
consciously teaches simplicity and power," he found
himself thinking. He was surprised, too, one day,
when he was packing his valise for a hurried start, to
see all her letters reposing neatly in one corner of
the aforesaid valise. " Now, why have I done that ?"
he asked; "why have I saved those letters? They
take up valuable space; I will destroy them." But
when he closed the valise the undamaged letters
were still neatly reposing in their allotted corner.
Now the campaign in the East came to its end,
and their special train swung westward into the
states supposed to be most doubtful first across the
Mississippi, and then across the .Missouri. The cam
paign entered upon a new phase amid new con
ditions in a new world, in fact and it required no
intuition for Harley to feel that strange events were
approaching.
VII
HIS GREATEST SPEECH
IT was the candidate's eighth speech that day, but
Harley, who was in analytical mood, could see no
decrease either in his energy or spontaneity of thought
and expression. The words still came with the old
dash and the old power, and the audience always
hung upon them, the applause invariably rising like
the rattle of rifle-fire. They had started at daylight,
hurrying across the monotonous Western plains, in
a dusty and uncomfortable car, stopping for a half-
hour speech here, then racing for another at a second
little village, and then a third race and a third speech,
and so on. Nor was this the first day of such labors;
it had been so week after week, and always it lasted
through the day and far into the darkness, some
times after midnight. But there was no sign to tell
of it on the face of the candidate, save a slight red
ness around the edge of the eyelids, and a little
hoarseness between the speeches when he talked to
his friends in an ordinary tone.
The village in which Grayson was speaking was a
tiny place of twelve or fifteen houses, all square, un
adorned, and ugly, standing in the centre of an il
limitable prairie that rolled away on either side ex
actly like the waves of the sea, and with the same
monotony. It was a weather - beaten gathering.
The prairie winds are not good for the complexion,
zoo
THE CANDIDATE
and the cheeks of these people were brown, not red.
On the outskirts of the crowd, still sitting on their
ponies, were cowboys, who had ridden sixty miles
across the Wyoming border to hear Grayson speak.
They were dressed exactly like the cowboys of the
pictures that Harley had seen in magazine stories
of the Western plains. They wore the sombreros and
leggings and leather belts, but there was no disorder,
no cursing, no shouting nor yelling. This was a phase
that had passed.
They listened, too, with an eagerness that few
Eastern audiences could show. This was not to them
an entertainment or anything savoring of the spec
tacular; it was the next thing to the word of
God. There was a reverence in their manner and
bearing that appealed to Harley, and he read easily
in their minds the belief that Jimmy Grayson was
the greatest man in the world, and that he alone
could bring to their country the greatness that they
wished as much for the country as for themselves.
Churchill sneered at this tone of the gathering, but
Harley took another view. These men might be
ignorant of the world, but he respected their hero-
worship, and thought it a good quality in them.
They heard the candidate tell of mighty corpora
tions, of a vague and distant place called Wall
Street, where fat men, with soft, white fingers and
pouches under their eyes, sat in red-carpeted offices
and pulled little but very strong strings that made
farmers on the Western plains, two thousand miles
away, dance like jumping-jacks, just as the fat men
wished, and just when they wished. These fat men
were allied with others in Europe, pouchy-eyed and
smooth-fingered like themselves, and it was their ob
ject to own all the money-bags of the world, and
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THE CANDIDATE
gather all the profits of the world's labor. Harley,
watching these people^ saw a spark appear in their
eyes many times, but *t was always brightest at the
mention of Wall Street. That both speaker and
those to whom his words were spoken were thorough
ly sincere, he did not doubt for a moment.
Grayson ceased, the engine blew the starting sig
nal, the candidate and the correspondent swung
aboard, and off they went. Harley looked back,
and as long as he could see the station the little
crowd on the lone prairie was still watching the dis
appearing train. There was something pathetic in
the sight of these people following with their eyes
until the last moment the man whom they consid
ered their particular champion.
It was but an ordinary train of day cars, the red
plush of the seats now whitened by the prairie dust,
and it was used in common by the candidate, the
flock of correspondents, and a dozen politicians, the
last chiefly committeemen or their friends, one being
the governor of the state through which they were
then travelling.
Harley sought sleep as early as possible that night,
because he would need all his strength for the next
day, which was to be a record - breaker. A tremen
dous programme had been mapped out for Jimmy
Grayson, and Harley, although aware of the candi
date's great endurance, wondered how he would ever
stand it. They were to cut the state from southeast
to northwest, a distance of more than four hundred
miles, and twenty-four speeches were to be made by
the way. Fresh from war, Harley did not remem
ber any more arduous journey, and, like an old cam
paigner, he prepared for it as best he could.
It was not yet daylight when they were awakened
102
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for the start of the great day. A cold wind moaned
around the hamlet as they ate their breakfast, and
then hastened, valise in hand, and still half asleep,
to the train, which stood steam up and ready to be
off. They found several men already on board, and
Churchill, when he saw them, uttered the brief word,
"Natives!" They were typical men of the plains,
thin, dry, and weather-beaten, and the correspond
ents at first paid but little attention to them. It
was common enough for some local committeeman
to take along a number of friends for a half-day or
so, in order that they might have a chance to gratify
their curiosity and show their admiration for the
candidate.
But the attention of Harley was attracted present
ly by one of the strangers, a smallish man of middle
age, with a weak jaw and a look curiously com
pounded of eagerness and depression.
The stranger's eye met Harley's, and, encouraged
by his friendly look, he crossed the aisle and spoke
to the correspondent.
"You are one of them newspaper fellers that
travels with Grayson, ain't you?" he asked.
Harley admitted the charge.
"And you see him every day?" continued the little
man, admiringly.
"Many times a day."
"My! My! Jest to think of your comin' away
out here to take down what our Jimmy Grayson says,
so them fellers in New York can read it! I'll bet he
makes Wall Street shake. I wish I was like you,
mister, and could be right alongside Jimmy Grayson
every day for weeks and weeks, and could hear every
word he said while he was poundin' them fellers in
Wall Street who are ruinin 1 our country. He is the
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THE CANDIDATE
greatest man in the world. Do you reckon I could
get to speak to him and jest tech his hand?"
"Why, certainly," replied Harley. He was moved
by the little man's childlike and absolute faith and
his reverence for Jimmy Grayson as a demigod. It
was not without pathos, and Harley at once took
him into the next car and introduced him to Gray-
son, who received him with the natural cordiality
that never deserted him. Plover, the little man said
was his name William Plover, of Kalapoosa, Choc-
taw County. He regarded Grayson with awe, and,
after the hand-shake, did not speak. Indeed, he
seemed to wish no more, and made himself still
smaller in a corner, where he listened attentively to
everything that Grayson said.
He also stood in the front row at each stopping-
place, his eyes fixed on Grayson's face while the lat
ter made his speech. The candidate, by-and-by, be
gan to notice him there. It is often a habit with
those who have to speak much in public to fix the
eye on some especially interested auditor and talk
to him directly. It assists in a sort of concentration,
and gives the orator a willing target.
Grayson now spoke straight to Plover, and Harley
watched how the little man's emotions, as shown in
his face, reflected in every part the orator's address.
There was actual fire in his eyes, whenever Grayson
mentioned that ogre, Wall Street, and tears rose
when the speaker depicted the bad condition of the
Western farmer.
"Wouldn't I like to go on to Washington with
Jimmy Grayson when he takes charge of the gov
ernment!" exclaimed Plover to Harley when this
speech was finished "not to take a hand myself,
but jest to see him make things hum! Won't he
104
THE CANDIDATE
make them fat fellers in Wall Street squeal! He'll
have the Robber Barons squirmin' on the griddle
pretty quick, an' wheat '11 go straight to a dollar a
bushel, sure! I can see it now!"
His exultation and delight lasted all the morning;
but in the afternoon the depressed, crushed feeling
which Harley had noticed at first in his look seemed
to get control.
Although his interest in Grayson's speeches and
his devout admiration did not decrease, Plover's
melancholy grew, and Harley by-and-by learned the
cause of it from another man, somewhat similar in
aspect, but larger of figure and stronger of face.
"To tell you the truth, mister," said the man, with
the easy freedom of the West, "Billy Plover and
my cousin he is, twice removed my name's San-
didge is runnin' away."
"Running away?" exclaimed Harley, in surprise.
"Where's he running to, and what's he running
from?"
"Where he's runnin' to, I don't know California,
or Washington, or Oregon, I guess. But I know
mighty well what he's runnin' away from; it's his
wife."
"Ah, a family trouble?" said Harley, whose deli
cacy would have caused him to refrain from asking
more. But the garrulous cousin rambled on.
"It's a trouble, and it ain't a trouble," he con
tinued. " It's the weather and the crops, or maybe
because Billy 'ain't had no weather nor no crops,
either. You see, he's lived for the last ten years on
a quarter-section out near Kalapoosa, with his wife,
Susan, a good woman and a terrible hard worker,
but the rain's been mighty light for three seasons,
and Billy's wheat has failed every time. It's kinder
105
THE CANDIDATE
got on his temper, and, as they 'ain't got any children
to take care of, Billy he's been takin' to politics.
Got an idea that he can speak, though he can't,
worth shucks, and thinks he's got a mission to whack
Wall Street, though I ain't sure but what Wall
Street don't deserve it. Susan says he ain't got any
business in politics, that he ought to leave that to
better men, an' stay an' wrastle with the ground and
the weather. So that made them take to spattin'."
"And the upshot?"
"Waal, the upshot was that Billy said he could
stand it no longer. So last night he raked up half
the spare cash, leavin' the rest and the farm and
stock to Susan, an' he loped out. But first he said
he had to hear Jimmy Grayson, who is mighty nigh a
whole team of prophets to him, and, as Jimmy's goin'
west, right on his way, he's come along. But to
night, at Jimmy's last stoppin'-place, he leaves us
and takes a train straight to the coast. I'm sorry,
because if Susan had time to see him and talk it
over you see, she's the man of the two the whole
thing would blow over, and they'd be back on the
farm, workin' hard, and with good times ahead."
Harley was moved by this pathetic little tragedy
of the plains, the result of loneliness and hard times
preying upon the tempers of two people. "Poor
devil!" he thought. "It's as his cousin says; if
Susan could only be face to face with him for five
minutes, he'd drop his foolish idea of running away
and go home."
Then of that thought was born unto him a great
idea, and he immediately hunted up the cousin again.
"Is Kalapoosa a station on the telegraph line?" he
asked.
"Oh yes."
106
THE CANDIDATE
"Would a telegram to that point be delivered to
the Plover farm?"
"Yes. Why, what's up?"
"Nothing; I just wanted to know. Now, can you
tell me what time to-night, after our arrival, a man
may take a train for the coast from Weeping Water,
our last stop?"
"We're due at Weepin' Water," replied the cousin,
"at eleven to-night, but I cal'late it '11 be nigher
twelve when we strike the town. You see, this is a
special train, runnin* on any old time, an' it's liable
now and then to get laid out a half an hour or more.
But, anyhow, we ought to beat the Denver Express,
which is due at twelve - thirty in the mornin', an'
stops ten minutes at the water-tank. It connects
at Denver with the 'Frisco Express, an' I guess it's
the train that Billy will take."
"Does the Denver Express stop at Kalapoosa?"
"Yes. Kalapoosa ain't nothin' but a little bit of
a place, but the Pawnee branch line comes in there,
and the express gets some passengers off it. Say,
mister, what's up ?"
But Harley evaded a direct answer, having now
all the information he wished. He went' back to
the next car and wrote this despatch:
" KALAPOOSA.
" SUSAN PLOVER, Take to-day's Denver Express and get
off to-night at Weeping Water. You will find me at Gray-
son's speaking, standing just in front of him. Don't fail to
come. Will explain everything to you then.
" WILLIAM PLOVER."
Harley looked at this message with satisfaction.
"I guess I'm a forger," he mused; "but as the es
sence of wrong lies in the intention, I'm doing no
harm."
107
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He stopped at the next station, prepaid the mes
sage, and, standing by, saw with his own eyes the
operator send it. Then he returned to the train and
resumed his work with fresh zest.
And he had plenty to do. He had seen Jimmy
Grayson make great displays of energy, but his vital
ity on this terrible day was amazing. On and on
they went, right into the red eye of the sun. The
hot rays poured down, and the dust whirled over
the plain, entering the car in clouds, where it clothed
everything floors, seats, and men alike until they
were a uniform whitey-brown. It crept, too, into
Harley's throat and stung his eyelids, but at each
new speech the candidate seemed to rise fresher and
stronger than ever, and at every good point he made
the volleys of applause rose like rifle-shots.
Harley, at the close of a speech late in the day,
sought his new friend, Plover. The little man was
crushed down in a seat, looking very gloomy. Har
ley knew that he was thinking of Kalapoosa, the
spell of Grayson's eloquence being gone for the mo
ment.
"Tired, Mr. Plover?" said Harley, putting a friend
ly hand on his shoulder.
"A little bit," replied Plover.
"But it's a great day," continued Harley. "I tell
you, old man, it's one to be remembered. There
never was such a campaign. The story of this ride
will be in all the papers of the United States to
morrow."
"Ain't he great! Ain't he great!" exclaimed
Plover, brightening into enthusiasm. "And don't
he hit Wall Street some awful whacks?"
"He certainly is great," replied Harley. "But
you wait until we get to Weeping Water. That's
108
THE CANDIDATE
the last stop, and he'll just turn himself loose there.
You mustn't miss a word.''
"I won't," replied Plover. "I'll have time, be
cause the Denver Express, on which I'm going to
'Frisco, don't leave there till twelve-forty. No, I
won't miss the big speech at Weeping Water."
They reached Weeping Water at last, although it
was full midnight, and they were far behind time,
and together they walked to the speaker's stand.
Harley saw Plover in his accustomed place in the
front rank, just under the light of the torches, where
he would meet the speaker's eye, his face rapt and
worshipful. Then he looked at his watch.
"Twelve-fifteen," he said to himself. "The Den
ver Express will be here in another fifteen minutes,
and Susan will fall on the neck of her Billy."
Then he stopped to listen to Grayson. Never had
Harley seen him more earnest, more forcible. He
knew that the candidate must be sinking from physical
weakness his pale, drawn face showed that but
his spirit flamed up for this last speech, and the
crowd was wholly under the spell of his powerful
appeal.
Harley met, presently, the cousin, Sandidge.
"This is Grayson's greatest speech of the day,"
Harley said, "and how it must please Mr. Plover!"
"That's so," replied Sandidge; "but Billy's all
broke up over it."
"Why, what's the matter?" asked Harley, in sud
den alarm.
"The Denver Express is nearly two hours and a
half late won't be here until three, and at Denver
it '11 miss the 'Frisco Express; won't be another for a
day. So Billy, who's in a hurry to get to the coast
the old Nick's got into him, I reckon is goin' by the
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THE CANDIDATE
express on the B. P.; the train on the branch line
that goes out there at two-ten connects with it, and
so does the accommodation freight at two-forty. It's
hard on Billy he hates to miss any of Jimmy Gray-
son's speeches, but he's bound to go."
Harley was touched by real sorrow. He drew his
pencil-pad from his pocket, hastily wrote a few lines
upon it, pushed his way to the stage, and thrust what
he had written into Mr. Grayson's hands. The
speaker, stopping to take a drink of water, read this
note:
" DEAR MR. GRAYSON, The Denver Express is two hours
and a half late. For God's sake speak until it comes; you
will hear it at three, when it pulls into the station. It is a
matter of life and death, and while you are speaking don't
take your eye off the little man with the whiskers, who has
been with us all day, and who always stands in front and
looks up at you. I'll explain everything later, but please
do it. Again I say it's a matter of life and death.
"JOHN HARLEY."
Gray son looked in surprise at Harley, but he
caught the appealing look on the face of the corre
spondent. He liked Harley, and he knew that he
could trust him. He knew, moreover, that what
Harley had written in the note must be true.
Grayson did not hesitate, and, nodding slightly to
Harley, turned and faced the crowd, like a soldier
prepared for his last and desperate charge. His eyes
sought those of the little man, his target, looking up
at him. Then he fixed Plover with his gaze and
began.
They still tell in the West of Jimmy Grayson's
speech at Weeping Water, as the veterans tell of
Pickett's rush in the flame and the smoke up Ceme-
te'ry Hill. He had gone on the stage a half-dead
no
\
THE CANDIDATE
man. He had already been speaking nineteen hours
that day. His eyes were red and swollen with train
dust, prairie dust, and lack of sleep. Every bone in
him ached. Every word stung his throat as it came,
and his tongue was like a hot ember in his mouth.
Deep lines ran away from his eyes.
But Jimmy Grayson was inspired that night on
the black prairie. The words leaped in livid flame
from his lips. Never was his speech more free and
bold, and always his burning eyes looked into those
of Plover and held him.
Closer and closer pressed the crowd. The dark
ness still rolled up, thicker and blacker than ever.
Grayson's shoulders sank away, and only his face
was visible now. The wind rose again, and whistled
around the little town and shrieked far out on the
lonely prairie. But above it rose the voice of Gray-
son, mellow, inspiring, and flowing full and free.
Harley looked and listened, and his admiration
grew and grew. "I don't agree with all he says,"
he thought, "but, my God! how well he says it."
Then he cowered in the lee of a little building, that
he might shelter himself from the bitter wind that
was searching him to the marrow.
Time passed. The speaker never faltered. A
half -hour, an hour, and his voice was still full and
mellow, nor had a soul left the crowd. Grayson
himself seemed to feel a new access of strength from
some hidden source, and his form expanded as he
denounced the Trusts and the Robber Barons, and
all the other iniquities that he felt it his duty to im
pale, but he never took his eyes from Plover ; to him
he was now talking with a force and directness that
he had not equalled before. Time went on, and, as
if half remembering some resolution, Plover's hand
in
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stole towards the little old silver watch that he car
ried in the left-hand pocket of his waistcoat. But
just at that critical moment Grayson uttered the-
magical name, Wall Street, and Plover's hand fell \
back to his side with a jerk. Then Grayson rose to
his best, and tore Wall Street to tatters.
A whistle sounded, a bell rang, and a train began
to rumble, but no one took note of it save Harley.
The two-ten on the branch line to connect with the
'Frisco Express on the B. P. was moving out, and he
breathed a great sigh of relief. "One gone," he said
to himself; "now for the accommodation freight."
The speech continued, but presently Grayson stop
ped for a hasty drink of water. Harley trembled.
He was afraid that Grayson was breaking down, and
his fears increased when he saw Plover's eyes leave
the speaker's face and wander towards the station.
But just at that moment the candidate caught the
little man.
"Listen to me!" thundered Grayson, "and let no
true citizen here fail to heed what I am about to tell
him."
Plover could not resist the voice and those words
of command. His thoughts, wandering towards the
railroad station, were seized and brought back by
the speaker. His eyes were fixed and held by Gray-
son, and he stood there as if chained to the spot.
Time became strangely slow. The accommodation
freight must be more than ten minutes late, Harley
thought. He looked at his watch, and found that it
was not due to leave for five minutes yet. So he
settled himself to patient waiting, and listened to
Grayson as he passed from one national topic to an
other. He saw, too, that the lines in the speaker's
face were growing deeper and deeper, and he knew
XI2
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that he must be using his last ounces of strength.
His soul was stirred with pity. Yet Grayson never
faltered.
The whistle blew, the bell rang, and again the
train rumbled. The two-forty accommodation freight
on the branch line to connect with the 'Frisco Ex
press on the B. P. was moving out, and Plover had
been held. He could not go now, and once more
Harley breathed that deep sigh of relief. Twenty
minutes passed, and he heard far off in the east a
faint rumble. He knew it was the Denver Express,
and, in spite of his resolution, he began to grow ner
vous. Suppose the woman should not come?
The rumble grew to a roar, and the train pulled
into the station. Grayson was faithful to the last,
and still thundered forth the invective that delighted
the soul of Plover. The train whistled and moved
off again, and Harley waited in breathless anxiety.
A tall form rose out of the darkness, and a woman,
middle-aged and honest of face, appeared. The cor
respondent knew that it must be Susan. It could be
nobody else. She was looking around as if she sought
some one. Harley 's eye caught Grayson's, and it
gave the signal.
"And now, gentlemen," said the candidate, "I am
done. I thank you for your attention, and I hope
you will think well of what I have said."
So saying, he left the stage, and the crowd dis
persed. But Harley waited, and he saw Plover and
his wife meet. He saw, too, the look of surprise and
then joy on the man's face, and he saw them throw
their arms around each other's neck and kiss in the
dark. They were only a poor, prosaic, and middle-
aged couple, but he knew they were now happy and
that all was right between them.
8 113
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When Grayson went to his room, he fell from ex
haustion in a half -faint across the bed; but when
Harley told him the next afternoon the cause of it
all, he laughed and said it was well worth the price.
They obtained, about a week later, the New York
papers containing an account of the record-breaking
day. When Harley opened the Monitor, Churchill's
paper, he read these head-lines:
GRAYSON'S GAB
TWENTY- FOUR SPEECHES IN TWENTY - FOUR
HOURS
HE TALKS FIFTY THOUSAND WORDS IN ONE DAY,
AND SAYS NOTHING
But when he looked at the Gazette, he saw the fol
lowing head-lines over his own account:
HIS GREATEST SPEECH
GRAYSON'S WONDERFUL EXHIBITION OF PLUCK
AND ENDURANCE
AFTER RIDING FOUR HUNDRED MILES AND MAK
ING TWENTY-THREE SPEECHES HE HOLDS
AN AUDIENCE SPELLBOUND FOR
THREE HOURS AT HIS
TWENTY-FOURTH
SPEAKS FROM MIDNIGHT UNTIL THREE IN THE
MORNING IN THE OPEN AIR AND NOT A
SOUL LEAVES, THOUGH A BLIZ
ZARD WAS RAGING
Harley sighed with satisfaction.
"That managing editor of mine knows his busi
ness," he said to himself.
VIII
SYLVIA'S RETURN
HARLEY slept late the next day, and it was the
heavy, somewhat nervous slumber of utter ex
haustion, like that which he had more than once ex
perienced in the war on the other side of the world,
after days of incessant marching. When he awoke,
it was afternoon on the special train, and as he joined
the group he was greeted with a suppressed cheer.
"I understand that you stayed the whole thing
through last night, or rather this morning," said
Churchill, in a sneering tone. " There's devotion for
you, boys!"
"I was amply repaid," replied Harley, calmly.
"His last speech was the most interesting; in fact, I
think it was the greatest speech that I ever heard
him make."
"I fear that Jimmy Grayson is overdoing it," said
the elderly Tremaine, soberly. "A Presidential nomi
nee is not exactly master of himself, and I doubt
whether he should have risked his voice, and per
haps the success of his party, speaking in that cold
wind until three or four o'clock this morning."
" He just loves to hear the sound of his own voice,"
said Churchill, his ugly sneer becoming uglier. "I
think it undignified and absurd on the part of a man
who is in the position that he is in."
"Harley was silent, and he was glad now that he
"5
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had said nothing in his despatch about the real rea
son for Grayson's long speaking. He had had at
first a little struggle over it with his professional con
science, feeling that his duty required him to tell,
but a little reflection decided him to the contrary.
He had managed the affair, it was not a spontaneous
occurrence, and, therefore, it was the private business
of himself and Mr, James Grayson. It gave him
great relief to be convinced thus, as he knew that
otherwise the candidate would be severely criticised
for it both by the opposition press and by a con
siderable number of his own party journals.
But there was one person to whom Harley related
the whole story. It was told in a letter to Sylvia
Morgan, who was then at the home of the candidate
with Mrs. Grayson. After describing all the details
minutely, he gave his opinion: he held that it was
right for a man, even in critical moments weighted
with the fate of the many, to halt to do a good action
which could affect only one or two. A great general
at the height of a battle, seeing a wounded soldier
helpless on the ground, might take the time to order
relief for him without at all impairing the fate of
the combat; to do otherwise would be a complete
sacrifice of the individual for the sake of a mighty
machine which would banish all humanity from life.
He noticed that even Napoleon, in the midst of what
might be called the most strenuous career the world
has known, turned aside to do little acts of kindness.
He was glad to find, when her reply came a few
days later, that she agreed with him at least in the
main part of his argument; but she called his atten
tion to the fact that it was not Mr. Grayson, but
Harley himself, who had injected this strange ele
ment into the combat when it was at its zenith; her
116
THE CANDIDATE
uncle James had merely responded to a strong and
moving appeal, which he would always do, because
she knew the softness of his heart; yet she was not
willing for him to go too far. A general might be able
to turn aside for a moment at the height of the battle,
and then he might not. She wished her uncle James
to be judicious in his generosity, and not make any
sacrifice which might prove too costly alike to him
self and to others.
"She is a compound of romance and strong com
mon-sense," thought Harley, musing over the letter.
"She wants the romance without paying the price.
Now I wonder if that is not rather more the char
acteristic of women than of men."
On the day following the receipt of this letter, a
look of joy came over the face of the candidate and
there was a visible exhilaration throughout his party.
Men, worn, exhausted, and covered with the dust of
the great plains, began to freshen up themselves as
much as they could; there was a great brushing of
soiled clothing, a hauling out of clean collars, a sharp
ening of razors, and a general inquiry, "How do I
look?" The whole atmosphere of the train was
changed, and it became much brighter and livelier.
It was the candidate himself who wrought the trans
formation, after reading a letter, with the brief state
ment, "Mrs. Grayson and Sylvia will join us to
morrow."
All had begun to pine for feminine society, as sol
diers, long on the march, desire the sight of women
and the sound of their voices. It is true that they
saw women often, and many of them some who
were beautiful and some who were not as they
sped through the West, but it was always a flitting
and blurred glimpse. "I haven't got an impression
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THE CANDIDATE
of the features of a single one of them," complained
the elderly beau, Tremaine. Now two women
whom they knew well and liked would be with them
for days, and they rejoiced accordingly.
It was at a little junction station in eastern Col
orado, in the clear blue-and-silver of a fine morning,
that Mrs. Grayson and Sylvia met them. Mr. Gray-
son and his party had been down about fifty miles
on a branch line for a speech at a town of importance,
and they had begun the return journey before day
light in order to make the connection. But when
the gray dawn came through the dusty car-windows,
it was odd to see how neat and careful all appeared,
even under such difficult circumstances.
Harley was surprised to realize the eagerness with
which he looked forward to the meeting, and put it
down to the long lack of feminine society. But he
wondered if Sylvia had changed, if the nearer ap
proach of her marriage with "King" Plummer would
make her reserved and with her outlook on the future
that is, as one apart.
He had a favorable seat in the car and he was the
first to see them. The junction was a tiny place of
not more than a half-dozen houses standing in the
midst of a great plain, and it made a perfect sil
houette against the gorgeous morning sunlight. Har
ley saw two slender figures outlined there in front of
the station building, and, despite the distance, he
knew them. There was to him something typically
American and typically Western in these two women
coming alone into that vast emptiness and waiting
there in the utmost calmness, knowing that they were
as safe as if they were in the heart of a great city,
and perhaps safer.
He knew, too, which was Sylvia; her manner, her
1*8
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bearing, the poise of her figure, had become familiar
to him. Slender and upright, she was in harmony
with the majesty of these great and silent spaces,
but she did not now seem bold and forward to him;
she was clothed in a different atmosphere alto
gether.
There was a warm greeting for Mr. Grayson and
the hand of fellowship for the others. Harley held
Sylvia's fingers in his for a moment just a moment
and said, with some emphasis:
"Our little party has not been the same without
you, Miss Morgan."
" I'm glad to hear you say it," she replied, frankly,
"and I'm glad to be back with all of you. It's a
campaign that I enjoy."
" It can be said for it that it is never monotonous."
"That's one reason why I like it."
She laughed a little, making no attempt to conceal
her pleasure at this renewed touch with fresh, young
life, and, because it was so obvious, Harley laughed
also and shared her pleasure. He noticed, too, the
new charm that she had in addition to the old, a
softening of manner, a slight appeal that she made,
without detracting in any wise from the impression
of strength and self-reliance that she gave.
"Where did you leave 'King' Plummer?" he ask
ed, unguardedly.
"In Idaho," she replied, with sudden gravity.
"He is well, and I believe that he is happy. He is
umpiring a great quarrel between the cattlemen and
the sheepmen, or, rather, he is compelling both to
listen to him and to agree to a compromise that he
has suggested. So he is really enjoying himself.
You do not know the delight that he takes in the
handling of large and rather rough affairs."
119
THE CANDIDATE
"I can readily guess it; he seems to have been
made for them."
But she said no more of " King" Plummer, quickly
turning the talk to the campaign, and showing at
once that she had followed every phase of it with
the closest and most anxious attention. Mrs. Gray-
son had walked on a little and was talking to her
husband, but she glanced back and saw what she
had expected. She and her husband turned pres
ently in their walk, and she said, looking significantly
at Harley and Miss Morgan:
"It is a great pleasure to Sylvia to be with your
party again."
There was such a curious inflection to her voice
that the candidate exclaimed, "Why, what do you
mean, Anna?" and she merely replied, "Oh, noth
ing!" which meant everything. The candidate, un
derstanding, looked more attentively, and his eyes
contracted a little, as if he were not wholly pleased
at what he saw.
"It's a free world," he said, "but I am glad that
' King' Plummer will be with us again in a few days."
But his wife, able to see further than he, merely
looked thoughtful and did not reply.
Harley 's solitary talk with Miss Morgan was brief;
it could not be anything else under the circumstances ;
Hobart, with all sail set, bore down upon them.
"Come! Come, Harley!" he cried, with the perfect
frankness that usually distinguished him, "we don't
permit any selfish monopolists here. We are all cast
away on a desert island, so to speak, and there are a
lot of us men and only two women, one of whom is
mortgaged!"
Then he was welcoming Miss Morgan in florid
style ; and there, too, was the ancient beau, Tremaine,
tao
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displaying all his little arts of elegance and despising
Hobart's obvious methods ; and Blaisdell, and all the
others, forming a court about her and giving her an
attention which could not fail to please her and
bring a deeper red to her cheeks and a brighter flash
to her eyes. It seemed to Mrs. Grayson, looking on,
that the girl had been hungry for something which
she had now found, and in finding which she was hap
py, and, despite her sense of loyalty, she felt a glow
of sympathy.
But the sense of duty in Mrs. Grayson was strong,
and while she hesitated much and sought for mental
excuses to avoid it, she wrote a long letter to " King"
Plummer that evening in the waiting-room of a little
wayside hotel. In many things that she said she
was beautifully vague; but she told him how glad
she was that he would join them so soon; she spoke
of the quarrel between the cattlemen and the sheep
men as a closed affair, and complimented him on his
skill in bringing it to an end so quickly ; it was all the
better because now he could come to them at once,
and she boldly said how much Sylvia was missing
him. But when she sealed and addressed the letter
she reflected awhile before dropping it in the box on
the wall.
"Now, ought I to do this?" she asked herself.
"Have I the right to hasten or to divert the course
of affairs?"
She decided that she had the right, and mailed the
letter.
"King" Plummer came a few days later he said
that he "just blew in a few days ahead of time"
and received a hearty welcome from everybody, which
he returned in double measure in his broad, spon
taneous way. He placed a sounding kiss upon the
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THE CANDIDATE
somewhat flushed brow of Sylvia Morgan, and ex
claimed, "Well, my little girl, aren't you glad to see
me ahead of time?" She replied quickly, though
not loudly, that she was, and then he announced that
he would stay with them for a long while. "These
are my mountains," he said, "and I'll have to show
you the way through them."
"King" Plummer, although inclined to be master
ful, was admitted at once into the full membership
of the party, and he entered upon what he called his
first long vacation. He showed the keenest enjoy
ment in the speeches, the crowds, the enthusiasm,
the travelling, and the quick-shifting scenes. He was
a boy with the boys, but the watchful Mrs. Grayson
noticed a shade of difference between Sylvia with
the "King" present and Sylvia with the "King" ab
sent. With him present there was a little restraint,
a slight effort on her part to watch herself ; but with
him away there was great spontaneity and freedom,
especially with the younger members like Harley and
Hobart, and even Churchill, who reluctantly ad
mitted that Miss Morgan was a fine girl, "though
rather Western, you know."
Mrs. Grayson began to take thought with herself
again, and the thought was taken with great serious
ness. Had she been right in bringing " King" Plum
mer on so soon, although he did not even know that
he was brought? She resolutely asked herself, too,
how much of her action had been due to the knowl
edge that the "King" was a very important man to
her husband, controlling, as he probably could, the
vote of several mountain states. This question,
which she could not answer, troubled her, and so did
the conduct of Sylvia, who, usually so frank and
straightforward, seemed to be suffering from a strange
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THE CANDIDATE
attack of perverseness. For years she had obeyed
"King" Plummer as her protector and as the one
who had rightful control, but now she began to give
him orders and to criticise many things that he did,
to the unlimited astonishment of the "King," who
had never expected anything of the kind.
"What is the matter with Sylvia? I never knew
her to act in such a way before," he said to Mrs.
Gray son.
" As she is to be your wife, and not a sort of ward,
she is merely giving you a preliminary training," re
plied the candidate's wife, dryly.
"King" Plummer looked at her in doubt, but he
pondered the question deeply and was remarkably
meek the next time Sylvia scolded him, whereat she
showed less pleasure than ever. "King" Plummer
was still in a maze and did not know what to say.
The very next day he found himself deeper in the
tangle, being scolded by Mrs. Grayson herself.
They were waiting at a small station for some car
riages which were to take them across the prairie,
and, the air being clear and bracing, they stood out
side, where Miss Morgan, as usual, held an involun
tary court. A cloud of dust arose, and behind it
quickly came a great herd of cattle, driven with much
shouting and galloping of horses by a half-dozen cow
boys. The herd was passing to the south a few hun
dred yards from the station, but Sylvia, thoroughly
used to such sights, was not interested. Not so some
of the others who went out to see, and among them
was "King" Plummer, who began at once to calcu
late the number of cattle, their value, and how far
they had come, all of which he did with great shrewd
ness.
The "King's" absorption in this congenial occu-
THE CANDIDATE
pation was increased when he recognized the leader
of the cowboys as an old friend and former associate
in Idaho and Montana, with whom he could exchange
much interesting news. Borrowing a horse from one
of the men, he rode on with them for a mile or two.
Mrs. Grayson had seen "King" Plummer leave the
group about Sylvia, and she marked it with a disap
proving eye. She would have spoken to him then,
but she had no chance, and she watched him until
he borrowed the horse and rode on with the cowboys.
Then she looked the other way and saw two figures
walking up and down the station platform. They
were Sylvia and Harley, engrossed in talk and caring
not at all for the passage of the herd. The two
brown heads were not far apart, and Mrs. Grayson
was near enough to see that Sylvia's color was beauti
ful.
The candidate's wife was annoyed, and, like any
other good woman, she was ready to vent her annoy
ance on somebody. She walked out a little from the
station, and presently she met "King" Plummer
coming back. He dismounted, returned the horse
to its owner, and approached her, the sparkle of en
thusiasm in his eyes lighting up his brown face.
"That was a pleasant surprise, Mrs. Grayson," he
exclaimed. "The leader of those boys was Bill As-
cott, whom I've known twenty years, an' he's brought
those cattle so cleverly all the way from Montana that
they are in as good condition now as they were the
day they started. And I had a fine gallop with
them, too."
He had more to say, but he stopped when he
noticed her deeply frowning face.
"What is wrong, Mrs. Grayson?" he asked, in ap
prehension.
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THE CANDIDATE
"Oh, you had a fine gallop, did you!" she said, in
a tone of biting irony. "I am glad of it. Mr. Will
iam Plummet ought to have his gallop, under any
circumstances!"
He stared at her in increasing amazement.
"I don't know that I'm counted a dull man, but
you've got me now, Mrs. Grayson."
She pointed to the station platform, where the two
brown heads were still not far apart.
"Without a word you left the woman that you are
going to marry to look at a lot of cattle."
"Why, Sylvia is only a child, an' we've been used
to each other for years. She understands."
"Yes, she will understand, or she isn't a woman,"
said Mrs. Grayson, and if possible the biting irony of
her tone increased. "You will see, too, Mr. William
Plummer, that one man at least did not neglect her
for the sake of some dusty cattle."
Mr. Plummer stared again at the pair on the plat
form, and a mingled look of pain and apprehension
came into his eyes.
"You surely can't mean anything of that kind!
Why, little Sylvia has promised "
"All things are possible, Mr. Plummer. My hus
band is a lawyer, and I have heard him quote often
a maxim of the law which runs something like this,
' He must keep who can.' "
She turned away and would not have another word
to say to him then, leaving Mr. Plummer in much per
plexity and trouble.
Mrs. Grayson herself was in a similar perplexity
and trouble throughout the day. Her doubts about
the letter she had written to "King" Plummer in
creased. Perhaps it would have been wiser to let
affairs take their own course. The sight of the two
I2 S
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brown heads and the two young faces on the station
platform had made her very thoughtful, and she
drew comparisons with "King" Plummer; there
might be days in autumn which resembled those of
spring, but it was only a fleeting resemblance, be
cause autumn was itself, with its own coloring, its own
fruits, and its own days, and nothing could turn it
into spring. " I will not meddle again," she resolved,
and then her mind was taken off the matter by an
incident in her husband's progress. In Nebraska
the men left the train for a few days, travelling by
carriage, and here occurred the event which created
a great stir in its time.
ANIGHT, after a beautiful, brown October day,
came on dark and rainy, with fierce winds off
the Rocky Mountains; and Harley, who was in the
first carriage with the candidate, could barely see
the heads of the horses, gently rising and falling as
they splashed through the mud. Behind him he
heard faintly the sound of wheels amid the wind and
rain, and he knew that the other correspondents and
the politicians, who always hung on the trail of Jimmy
Grayson, shifting according to locality, were following
their leader in single file.
Mrs. Grayson and Sylvia had remained on the
special car, and expected to join them on the fol
lowing day, although Sylvia was quite prepared to
take the carriage journey across the country and
dare all the risks of the darkness and possible bad
weather. Indeed, with the fine spirit of the West
and her own natural high courage, she wanted to go,
saying that she could stand as much as a man, and
only Mrs. Grayson's refusal to accompany her and
the consequent lack of a chaperone compelled her to
abandon the idea. Now Harley and Mr. Grayson
were very glad that she was not out in the storm.
Although the hood of the carriage was down and
the collar of Harley's heavy coat was turned up to
127
THE CANDIDATE
his ears, the cold rain, lashed by the wind, struck him
in the face now and then.
"You don't do anything by halves out here on
these Western plains," he said.
"No," replied Jimmy Grayson, "we don't deal in
disguises; when we're hot we're hot, and when we're
cold we're cold. Now, after a perfect day, we're
having the wildest kind of a night. It's our way."
It was then ten o'clock, and they had expected to
reach Speedwell at midnight, crossing the Platte River
on the big wooden bridge; but the rain, the darkness,
and the singularly sticky quality of the black Ne
braska mud would certainly delay them until one
o'clock in the morning, and possibly much later. It
was not a cheerful prospect for tired and sleepy men.
"Mr. Grayson," said Harley, "without seeking to
discredit you, I wish I had gone to another war in
stead of coming out here with you. That would
have been less wearing."
The candidate laughed.
"But you are seeing the West as few men from
New York ever see it," he said.
The driver turned, and a little stream of water ran
off his hat-brim into Harley's face.
"It's the wind that holds us back, Mr. Grayson,"
he said; "if we leave the road and cut across the
prairie on the hard ground it will save at least an
hour."
"By all means, turn out at once," said the candi
date, "and the others will follow."
"Wise driver; considerate man!" remarked Harley.
There was marked relief the moment the wheels of
the carriage struck the brown grass. They rolled
easily once more, and the off horse, lifting up his
head, neighed cheerfully.
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THE CANDIDATE
"It means midnight, and not later, Harley," said
the candidate, in a reassuring tone.
Harley leaned back in his seat, and trusted all
now to the wise and considerate driver who had pro
posed such a plan. The night was just as black as a
hat, and the wind and rain moaned over the bleak
and lonesome plains. They were far out in Ne
braska, and, although they were near the Platte
River, it was one of the most thinly inhabited sec
tions of the state. They had not seen a light since
leaving the last speaking-place at sundown. Harley
wondered at the courage of the pioneers who crossed
the great plains amid such a vast loneliness. He
and the candidate were tired, and soon ceased to talk.
The driver confined his attention to his business.
Harley fell into a doze, from which he was awakened
after a while by the sudden stoppage of the carriage.
The candidate awoke at the same time. The rain
had decreased, there was a partial moonlight, and
the driver was turning upon them a shamefaced
countenance.
"What's the matter?" asked the candidate.
"To tell you the truth, Mr. Grayson," replied the
driver, in an apologetic tone. "I've gone wrong some
how or other, and I don't know just where we're at."
"Lost?" said Harley.
"If you wish to put it that way, I reckon you're
right," said the driver, with a touch of offence.
"What has become of the other carriages?" asked
Harley, looking back for them.
"I reckon they didn't see us when we turned out,
and they kept on along the road."
There was no doubt about the plight into which
they had got themselves. The plain seemed no less
lonely than it was before the white man came.
9 129
THE CANDIDATE
"What's that line of trees across yonder?" asked
the candidate.
"I guess it marks where the Platte runs," replied
the driver.
"Then drive to it; if we follow the trees we must
reach the bridge, and then things will be simple."
The driver became more cheerful, the rain ceased
and the moonlight increased ; but Harley lacked con
fidence. He had a deep distrust of the Platte River.
It seemed to him the most ridiculous stream in the
United States, making a presumptuous claim upon the
map, and flowing often in a channel a mile wide with
only a foot of water. But he feared the marshes and
quicksands that bordered its shallow course.
They reached the line of gaunt trees, dripping with
water and whipped by the wind, and Harley's fears
were justified. The river was there, but they could
not approach it, lest they be swallowed up in the
sand, and they turned back upon the prairie.
"We must find a house," said the candidate; "if
it comes to the pinch we can pass the night in the
carriage, but I don't like to sleep sitting."
They bore away from the river, driving at random,
and after an hour saw a faint light under the dusky
horizon.
"The lone settler!" exclaimed Harley, who began
to cherish fond anticipations of a bed. "Go straight
for it, driver."
The driver was not loath, and even the horses, seem
ing to have renewed hope, changed their sluggish walk
to a trot. They had no hesitation in seeking shelter
at that hour, entire strangers though they were, such
an act being in perfect accordance with the laws of
Western hospitality.
As they approached, a bare wooden house, unpro-
130
THE CANDIDATE
tected by trees, rose out of the plain. A wire fence
enclosed a half -acre or so about it, and apparently
there had been a few rather futile attempts to make a
lawn.
"Looks cheerless," said Harley.
"But it holds beds," said the candidate.
"You save your voice," said Harley; "I'll call the
farmer, and I hope it will be a man who can speak
English, and not. some new Russian or Bohemian
citizen."
He sprang out of the carriage, glad to relieve him
self from his cramped and stiff position, and walked
towards the little gate in the wire fence. There was
a sudden rush of light feet, a stream of fierce barks
and snarls, and Harley sprang back in alarm as two
large bull-dogs, red-mouthed, flung themselves against
the fence.
"I said you had no cause to regret that war,"
called the candidate from the carriage.
The wires were strong, and they held the dogs ; but
the animals hung to the fence, as fierce as wolves;
and Harley, lifting up his voice, added to the chorus
with a "Hi! Hi! Mr. Farmer! Strangers want to
stop with you!"
The din was tremendous, and presently a window
in the second story was shoved up, and a man, fully
dressed, carrying a long-barrelled rifle in his hands,
appeared at it. He called to the dogs, which ceased
at once their barking and snarling, and then he gazed
down at the intruders in no friendly manner. Harley
saw him clearly, a tall, gaunt old man, white-haired,
but muscular and strong. He held the rifle as if he
were ready to use it a most unusual thing in this
part of the country, where householders seldom kept
fire-arms.
THE CANDIDATE
"What do you want?" he called, in a sharp, high
voice.
"Beds!" cried Harley. "We are lost, and if you
don't take us in we'll have to sleep on the prairie,
which is a trifle damp."
"Waal, I 'low it hez rained a right smart," said the
old man, grimly.
Harley noticed at once the man's use of "right
smart," an expression with which he had been familiar
in another part of the country, and it encouraged him.
He was sure now of hospitality.
" Who are you ?" the old man called.
"Mr. Grayson, the nominee for President of the
United States, is in the carriage, and I am his friend,
one of the newspaper correspondents travelling with
him."
"Wait a minute."
The window was closed, and in a few moments the
old man came out at the front door. He carried the
rifle on his shoulder, but Harley attributed the fact to
his haste at the mention of Jimmy Grayson's name.
"My name is Simpson Daniel Simpson," he said,
hospitably. "Tell the driver to put the horses in
the barn."
He waved his hand towards a low building in the
rear of his residence, and then he invited the candi
date and the correspondent to enter. He looked
curiously, but with reverence, at the candidate.
"You are really Jimmy Grayson," he said. "I'd
know you off-hand by your picture, which I guess hez
been printed in ev'ry newspaper in the United States.
I 'low it's a powerful honor to me to hev you here."
"And it's a tremendous accommodation to us for
you to take us," said Jimmy Grayson, with his usual
easy grace.
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THE CANDIDATE
But Harley was looking at Simpson with a gaze no
less intent than the old man had bent upon Gray son.
The accent and inflection of the host were of a region
far distant from Nebraska, but Harley, who was born
near that wild country, knew the long, lean, narrow
type of face, with the high cheek-bones and the
watchful black eyes. Moreover, there was some
thing directly and personally familiar in the figure
before him.
Under any circumstances the manner of the old
man would have drawn the attention of Harley,
whose naturally keen observation was sharpened by
the training of his profession. The old man seemed
abstracted. His fingers moved absently on the stock
of his rifle, and Harley inferred at once that he had
something of unusual weight on his mind.
"Me an' the ol' woman hev been settin' late," said
Simpson. "When you git ol' you don't sleep much.
But it '11 be a long time, Mr. Grayson, before that fits
you."
He led the way into a room better furnished than
Harley had expected to see. A coal fire smouldered
on the hearth, and the arrangement of the room
showed some evidences of refinement and taste. An
old woman was bent over the fire, but she rose when
the men entered, and turned upon them a face which
Harley knew at once to be that of one who had been
frightened by something. Her eyes were red, as if
she had been weeping. Harley looked from host to
hostess with curious glance, but he was still silent.
"This is Marthy, my wife, gen'lemen," said Simp
son. " Marthy, this is Mr. Grayson, the greatest man
in this here United States, and the other is one of the
newspaper fellers that travels with him."
Jimmy Grayson bowed with great courtesy, and
133
THE CANDIDATE
apologized so gracefully for the intrusion that an
ordinary person would have been glad to be intruded
upon in such a manner. The woman said nothing,
but stared vacantly at her guests. The old man
came to her relief.
"Marthy ain't used to visitors, least of all a man
like you, Mr. Grayson, and it kind o' upsets her," he
said. "You see, Marthy an' me lives here all by our
selves."
The woman started and looked at him.
"All by ourselves," repeated the man, firmly; "but
we'll do the best we kin."
"Daniel," suddenly exclaimed the old woman, in
high, shrill tones, "why don't you put down your gun ?
Mr. Grayson '11 think you're a-goin' to shoot him."
The old man laughed, but the ever-watchful Harley
saw that the laugh was not spontaneous.
"I 'clar' to gracious," he said, "I clean forgot I
had old Deadeye. You see, Mr. Grayson, when I
heerd the dogs barkin', sez I to myself 'it's robbers,
shore' ; and before I h'ists the window up-stairs I
reaches old Deadeye off the hooks, and then, if it had
'a' been robbers, it wouldn't 'a' been healthy for 'em."
"I'm sure of that, Mr. Simpson," said Jimmy Gray-
son; "you don't look like a man who would allow
himself to be run over."
"An' I wouldn't," said the old man, with sudden,
fierce emphasis. But he put the rifle gn the hooks
over the fireplace. Such hooks as these were not
usual in Nebraska; but Jimmy Grayson was too
polite to say anything, and Harley was still watching
every movement of the old man. The driver re
turned at this moment from the stable, and, report
ing that he had fed the horses, took his place with the
others at the fire.
134
THE CANDIDATE
"I 'low you-uns would like to eat a little," said
the old man, laughing in the same unnatural way.
"Marthy, tote in suthin' from the kitchen as quick
as you kin."
The old woman raised her startled, frightened eyes,
and for a moment her glance met Harley's; it seemed
to him to be full of entreaty; the whole atmosphere
of the place was to him tense, strained, and tragic;
why, he did not know, but he shook himself and de
cided that it was only the result of weariness, the long
ride, and the night in the storm. Nevertheless, the
feeling did not depart because he willed that it should
go-
"No, we thank you," Jimmy Grayson was saying;
"we are not hungry ; but we should like very much to
go to bed."
"It's jest with you," said Simpson. "Marthy, I'll
show the gen'lemen to their room, and you kin stay
here till I come back."
The old woman did not speak, but stood in a
crouched attitude looking at Grayson and then at
Harley and then at the driver; it seemed to the cor
respondent that she did not dare trust her voice, and
he saw fear still lurking in her eyes.
"Come along, gen'lemen," said Simpson, taking
from the table a small lamp, that had been lighted at
their entrance, and leading the way.
Harley glanced back once at the door, and the
woman's eyes met his in a look that was like one
last despairing appeal. But there was nothing tan
gible, nothing that he could not say was the result of
an overwrought fancy.
It was a small and bare room, with only a single
bed, to which the old man took them. "It's the
best I've got," he said, apologetically. "Mr. Gray-
135
THE CANDIDATE
son, you an' the newspaper man kin sleep in the bed,
an' t'other feller, I reckon, kin curl up on the floor."
" It is good enough for anybody," said Jimmy Gray-
son, gallantly. As a matter of fact, both he and Har-
ley had known what it was to fare worse.
"Good-night," the man said, and left them rather
hastily, Harley thought; but the others took no no
tice, and were soon in sound slumber, the candidate
because he had the rare power of going to sleep when
ever there was a chance, and the driver because he
was indifferent and tired.
But Harley lay awake. An hour ago his dream of
heaven was a bed, and now, the bed attained, sleep
would not come near. Out of the stil ness, after a
while, he heard the gentle moving of feet below, and
he sat up on the bed, all his suspicions confirmed.
Something unusual was going on in this lone house!
And it had been going on even before he and the can
didate came!
He listened to the moving feet for a few moments.
Then the noise ceased, but Harley knew that there
was no further chance of sleep for him, with his nerves
on edge, and likely to remain there. He lay back on
the edge of the bed, trying to accustom his eyes to
the darkness, and presently he heard a sound, the
most chilling that a man can hear. It was the sound
of a woman, alone and in the dark, between midnight
and morning, crying gently, but crying deeply, un
controllably, and from her chest.
Harley's resolve was taken at once. He slipped
on his clothes and went to the door. His eyes were
used now to the dark, and there was a window that
shed a half-light.
He stopped with his hand on the bolt, because he
heard the low, wailing note more plainly, and he was
136
THE CANDIDATE
sure that it came from another room across the nar
row hall. He turned the bolt, but the door refused
to open. There was no key on the inside! They had
been locked in, and for a purpose!
Harley was fully aroused on edge with excite
ment, but able to restrain it and to think clearly.
There was an old grate in the room, apparently used
but seldom, and, leaning against the wall beside it, an
iron poker. Tiptoeing, he obtained the poker and
returned to the door. The lock was a flimsy affair,
and, inserting the point of the poker under the catch,
he easily pried it off and put it gently on the floor.
Then he stepped out into the dusky hall and lis
tened. The woman was yet crying, monotonously,
but with such a note of woe that Harley was shaken.
He had thought in his own room that it was the old
woman who wept thus ; but now in the hall he knew
it to be a younger and fresher voice.
He saw farther down another door, and he knew
that it led to the room from which came the sounds
of grief. He approached it cautiously, still holding
the poker in his hands, and noticed that there was
no key in the lock. The woman, whoever she might
be, was locked in, as he and his comrades had been;
but the empty keyhole gave him an idea. He blew
through it, making a sort of whistling sound with his
puckered lips. The crying ceased, all save an occa
sional low, half -smothered sob, as if the woman were
making a supreme effort to control her feelings.
Then Harley put his lips to the keyhole again and
whispered: " What is the matter? It is a friend who
asks." There was no reply, only a tense silence, even
the occasional sobs ceasing. Then, after a few mo
ments of waiting, Harley whispered, "Don't be
alarmed; I am about to force the door."
THE CANDIDATE
The door was of flimsy pine, and it gave quickly
to the poker's leverage. Then, this useful weapon
still in hand, Harley stepped into the room, where
he heard a deep-drawn sigh that expressed mingled
emotions.
There was a window at the end of the room, and
the moonlight shone clearly through, clothing with
its full radiance a tall, slim girl, who had risen from
a chair, and who stood trembling before Harley, fully
dressed, although her long hair hung down her back
and her eyes were red with weeping.
She was handsome, but not with the broad face of
the West. Hers was another type, a type that Har
ley knew well. The cheek-bones were a little high,
the features delicate, the figure slender, and there
was on her cheeks a rosy bloom that never grew under
the cutting winds of the great plains.
Harley knew at once that she was the daughter of
the old couple below stairs.
"Po not be afraid of me," he said, gently. "I
know that you are in great trouble, but I will help
you. I, too, am from Kentucky. I was born there,
and I used to live there, though not in the mountains,
as you did."
The appeal and terror in her eyes changed to
momentary surprise. "What do you know of me?"
she exclaimed.
"Very little of you, but more of your father. Years
ago I was at his house in the Kentucky mountains.
He was a leader in the Simpson-Eversley feud. I
knew him to-night, but I have said nothing. Now,
tell me, what is the matter?"
His voice was soothing that of a strong man who
would protect, and the girl yielded to its influence.
Brokenly she told the story. Many men had been
138
THE CANDIDATE
killed in the feud, and the few Eversleys who were
left had been scattered far in the mountains. Then
old Daniel Simpson said that he would come out on
the Great Plains, more than a thousand miles, and
they had come.
"There was one of the Eversleys Henry Eversley
he was young and handsome. People said he was
not bad. He, too, came to Nebraska. He found
out where we lived; he has been here."
"Ah!" said Harley. He felt that they were com
ing to the gist of the matter.
The girl, with a sudden passionate cry, threw her
self upon her knees. "He is here now! He is here
now!" she cried. "He is in the cellar, bound and
gagged, and my father is going to kill him! But I
love him! He came here to-night, and my father
caught us together, and struck him down. But we
meant nothing wrong. I declare before God that we
did not! We were getting ready to run away to
gether and to be married at Speedwell!"
Harley shuddered. The impending tragedy was
more terrible than he had feared.
"You can do nothing!" exclaimed the girl. "My
father is armed. He will have no interference! He
cares nothing for what may come after! He thinks "
She could not say it all ; but Harley knew well that
what she would say was, " He thinks that he has been
robbed of his honcr by a mortal enemy."
"Can you stay quietly in this room until morning ?"
he asked. " I know it is hard to wait under such cir
cumstances, but you must do it for the sake of Henry
Eversley."
"And will you save him?"
"He shall be saved."
"I will wait," she said.
J3Q
THE CANDIDATE
Harley slipped noiselessly out, and, closing the
door behind him, went to his room, where he at once
awakened the candidate.
Jimmy Grayson listened with intense attention to
Harley's story. When the tale was over, he and
Harley whispered together long and earnestly, and
Jimmy Grayson frequently nodded his head in as
sent. Then they awoke the driver, a heavy man,
but with a keen Western mind that at once became
alert at the news of danger.
"Yes, I got my bearings now," he said, in reply to
a question of Harley's. " I asked the old fellow about
it when I came up from the stable, and Speedwell is
straight north from here. I can take one of the
horses and hit the town before daylight. I know
everybody there."
"But how about the dogs?" asked Jimmy Gray-
son. "Can you get past them?"
" No trouble there at all. After we came, the old
fellow locked 'em up in a stall in the stable and left
'em there. I guess he didn't want to look to us as
if he was too suspicious."
"Then go, and God go with you!" said Jimmy
Grayson, with deep feeling.
The driver left at once, not by the stairway, near
the foot of which the old man might be watching,
but by a much simpler road. He raised the window
of the room and swung out, sustained by Jimmy
Gray son's powerful arms until his feet were within
a yard of the ground. Then he dropped, ran lightly
across the lawn, sprang over the wire fence, and
soon disappeared in the grove where the girl had
said that the horses were waiting. Jimmy Grayson
closed the window with a deep sigh of relief.
"He will do his part," he said; "now for ours."
140
THE CANDIDATE
He did not seek to sleep again, and Harley could
not think of it. One task occupied him a little while
the replacing of the lock on the door but after that
the hours passed heavily and in silence. The flush
of dawn appeared in the east at last, and then they
heard a faint step in the hall outside and the gentle
turning of a key in a lock. Jimmy Grayson and
Harley looked at each other and smiled grimly, but
they said nothing. A half - hour later there was a
loud knock on their door, and old Daniel Simpson
bade them rise and get ready for breakfast.
"It is chiefly in your hands now," said Harley, in
a low tone to Jimmy Grayson.
" We'll be down in a few minutes, and we have had
a good night's sleep, for which we thank you," he
called to the old man.
"You're welcome to it," replied Simpson. "You'll
find water and towels on the porch down-stairs, and
then you can come straight in to breakfast."
They heard his step passing down the hall to the
stairway, where it died away, and then they dressed
deliberately. On the porch they found the water
and towels as Simpson had said, and bathed and
rubbed their faces. A golden sun was just rising
from the prairie, and bead of water from the night's
rain sparkled on the trees and grass. The wind came
out of the southwest, fresh and glorious.
They entered the dining-room, where the breakfast
smoked on the table, and the old man and his wife
were waiting. Harley could not see that they had
changed in appearance in the morning glow. Simp
son was still rugged and grim, while the woman yet
cowered and now and then raised terrified and ap
pealing eyes.
"Whar's your driver?" asked Simpson.
141
THE CANDIDATE
"He has gone down to the stable to feed and care
for his horses," replied the candidate, easily. "He's
a very careful man, always looks after his horses be
fore he looks after himself. He told us not to wait
for him, as he'll be along directly."
"Then be seated," said the old man, hospitably.
"We've got corn-bread and ham-and-eggs and coffee,
an* I guess you kin make out."
"I should think so," said Jimmy Gray son. " Why,
if I had not been as hungry as a wolf already, it would
make me hungry just to look at it."
The three sat down at the table, while Mrs. Simp
son served them, going back and forth to the little
kitchen adjoining for fresh supplies of hot food. Mr.
Grayson did most of the talking, and it was ad
dressed in an easy, confidential manner to old Daniel
Simpson. The candidate's gift of conversational
talk was equal to his gift of platform oratory, but
never before had Harley known him to be so inter
esting and so attractive. He fairly radiated with
the quality called personal magnetism, and soon the
old man ate mechanically, while his attention was
riveted on Jimmy Grayson. But by - and - by he
seemed to remember something.
"That driver of yourn is tarnal slow," he said; "he
ought to be comin' in to breakfast."
"You have diagnosed his chief fault," said Jimmy
Grayson, with an easy laugh. " He is slow, extreme
ly slow, but he will be along directly, and he doesn't
mind cold victuals."
Then he turned back to the easy flow of anecdote,
chiefly about his political campaign, and Harley saw
that the interest of the old man was centred upon
him. The woman, without a word, brought in hot
biscuits from the kitchen, but she did not lose her
142
THE CANDIDATE
frightened look, glancing from one to another of the
three with furtive, lowered eyes. But Jimmy Gray-
son, the golden-mouthed, talked gracefully, and the
note of his discourse that morning was the sweetness
and kindness of life; he saw only the sunny side of
things; people were good and true, and peace was
better than strife. His smiling, benevolent face and
the mellow flow of his words enforced the lesson.
The old man's face softened a little, and even Har-
ley, though a prey to anxieties, felt the influence of
Jimmy Grayson's spell. The little dining - room
where they sat was at the rear of the house. Harley
saw the golden sunshine of a perfect October day,
and the wind that sang across the plain had the soft
strain of a girl's voice. He felt that it was good to
live that morning, and his spirits rose as he saw the
old man fall further and further under the spell of
Jimmy Grayson's eloquence.
But Simpson raised himself presently and glanced
at the door.
"That driver of yourn is tarnal slow," he repeated.
"Seems to me he'll never finish feedin' an' curryin'
them horses!"
"He is slow, extremely slow," laughed Jimmy
Grayson. " If he were not so we should not have got
lost last night, and we should not be here now, Mr.
Simpson, trespassing on your hospitality. Perhaps
the man does not want any breakfast; it's not the
first time since he's been with us that he's gone with
out it."
Then he launched again into the stream of a very
pretty story that he had been telling, and the waver
ing attention of the old man returned. Harley gave
all assistance. Despite his anxiety and his listen
ing for sounds without, he kept his eyes fixed upon
143
THE CANDIDATE
Jimmy Grayson's face as if he would not miss a
word.
The breakfast went on to an unusual length. The
candidate and Harley called again and again for hot
biscuits and more coffee, and always the old woman
served them silently, almost furtively.
The story was finished, and just as it came to its
end Simpson said, with a grim inflection:
"It 'pears to me, Mr. Grayson, all you said about
that driver of yourn is true. He hasn't come from
the stable yet."
There was the sound of a step in the hall, and the
candidate said, quickly:
"He's coming now; he'll be in presently, as soon
as he washes his hands and face on the porch. No,
sit down, Mr. Simpson; he needs no directions. We
were speaking of the sacrifices that people make for
one another, and it reminds me of a very pretty story
that I must tell you."
The old man sank into his chair, but his look wan
dered to the door. It seemed to Harley that light
sounds came from the other part of the house, and
the old man, too, seemed for a moment to be listen
ing, but Jimmy Grayson at once began his story,
and Simpson's attention came back.
"This is a story of the mountains of eastern Ken
tucky," began the candidate, "and it is a love story
a very pretty one, I think."
Simpson moved in his chair, and a sudden wonder
ing look appeared in his eyes at the words "eastern
Kentucky." The old woman, too, slightly raised her
bent form and gazed eagerly at the candidate. But
Jimmy Grayson took no notice, and continued.
"This," he said, "is the love story of two people
who were young then, but who are old now. Yet I
144
THE CANDIDATE
am sure there is much affection and tenderness in
their hearts, and often they must think fondly of
those old days. The youth lived on the side of a
mountain, and the girl lived on the side of another
mountain not far away. He was tall, strong, and
brave; she, too, was tall, as slender as one of the
mountain saplings, with glorious brown hair and
eyes, and a voice as musical as a mountain echo.
Well, they met and they loved, loved truly and deep
ly. It might seem that the way was easy now for
them to marry and go to a house of their own, but it
was not. There was a bar."
"A feud!" breathed the old man. The old woman
put her hands to her eyes.
"Yes, a feud; they seem strange things to us here,
but to those distant people in the mountains they
seem the most natural thing in the world. The youth
and the girl belonged to families that were at war with
each other, and marriage between them would have
been considered by all their relatives a mortal sin."
The old man's eyes were fastened upon Jimmy
Grayson's, but his look for the moment was distant,
as if it were held by old memories. The woman was
crying softly. Again the soft shuffle of feet in the
other part of the house came to Harley's ears, but
the old couple did not hear ; the driver was forgotten ;
for all Simpson and his wife remembered, he might
still be finishing his morning toilet on the porch.
"They were compelled to meet in secret," con
tinued Jimmy Grayson, "but the girl was frightened
for him because she loved him. She told him that
he must go away, that if her father and brothers
heard of their meetings they would kill him; it was
impossible for them to marry, but she loved him, she
would never deny that. He listened to her gently
10 145
and tenderly; he was a brave youth, as I have said,
and he would not go away. He said that God had
made them for each other, and she should be his wife ;
he would not go away; he was not afraid."
" No, I was not afraid," breathed the old man, soft
ly. The old woman had straightened herself up un
til she stood erect. There was a delicate flush on
her face, and her eyes were luminous.
"This youth was a hero, a gallant and chivalrous
gentleman," continued Jimmy Gray son; "he loved
the girl, and she loved him; there was no real reason
in the world why they should not marry, and he was
resolved that there should be none."
The candidate's head was bent forward over his
plate. His face was slightly flushed, and his burn
ing eyes held Simpson's. Harley saw that he thrilled
with his own story and the crisis for which it was
told. Elsewhere in the building the faint noises
went on, but Harley alone heard.
"The youth did what I would have done and what
you would have done, Mr. Simpson," continued Jim
my Grayson. "He did what nature and sense dic
tated. He overbore all resistance on the part of the
girl, who in her heart was willing to be overborne.
One dark night he stole her from her father's house
and carried her away on his horse."
" How well I remember it!" exclaimed the old man,
with eyes a-gleam. " I had Marthy on the horse be
hind me, and my rifle on the pommel of the saddle
before me."
The old woman cried softly, but it seemed to Har
ley that the note of her weeping was not grief.
"He stole her away," continued Jimmy Grayson,
"and before morning they were married. Then he
took her to a house of his own, and he sent word that
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THE CANDIDATE
if any man came to do them harm he would meet a
rifle bullet. They knew that he was the best shot in
the mountains, and that he was without fear, so they
did not come. And that youth and that girl are still
living, though both are old now, but neither has ever
for a moment regretted that night."
"You speak the truth," exclaimed the old man,
striking his fist upon the table, while his eyes flashed
with exultant fire. "We've never been sorry for a
moment for what we did, hev we Marthy ?"
Harley had risen to his feet, and a signal look passed
between him and the candidate.
"And then," said Jimmy Grayson. "why do you
deny to Henry Eversley the right to do what you
did, and what you still glory in after all these years?
Mr. Simpson, shake hands with your new son-in-law.
He and his bride are waiting in the doorway."
The old man sprang to his feet. His daughter and
a youth, a handsome couple, stood at the entrance.
Behind them were three or four men, one the driver,
and another in clerical garb, evidently a minister.
"They were married in your front parlor while
we sat at breakfast," said Jimmy Grayson. "Mr.
Simpson, your son-in-law is still offering you his
hand."
The bewildered look left the old man's eyes, and
he took the outstretched hand in a hearty grasp.
"Henry," he said, "you've won."
THB "KING'S" REQUEST
Atf hour later the candidate, Harley, and the
driver were on the way to the town at which
they had intended to pass the preceding night.
With ample instructions and a brilliant morning sun
light there was no further trouble about the direction,
and they pursued their way in peace.
The air was crisp and blowy, and the earth, new-
washed by the rain, took on some of the tints of
spring green, despite the lateness of the season. Har
ley, relaxed from the tension of the night before,
leaned back in his seat and enjoyed the tonic breeze.
No one of the three had much to say; all were in
meditation, and the quiet and loneliness of the morn
ing seemed to promote musing. They drove some
miles across the rolling prairie without seeing a single
house, but at last the driver pointed to a flickering
patch of gold on the western horizon.
"That," said he, "is the weather-vane on the
cupola of the new court-house, and in another hour
we'll be in town. I guess your people will be glad
to see you, Mr. Grayson."
"And I shall be glad to see them," said the can
didate. A few minutes later he turned to the cor
respondent.
"Harley," he asked, "will you send anything to
your paper about last night?"
148
THE CANDIDATE
"I have to do so," replied Harley, with a slight
note of apology in his tone this had not been his
personal doing. "For a presidential candidate to
get lost on the prairie in the dark and the storm,
and then spend the night in a house in which only his
presence of mind and eloquence prevent a murder,
that is news news of the first importance and the
deepest interest. I am bound not only to send a
despatch about it, but the despatch must be very
long and full. And I suppose, too, that I shall have
to tell it to the other fellows when we reach the
town."
The candidate sighed.
"I know you are right," he said, "but I wish you
did not have to do it. The story puts me in a sensa
tional light. It seems as if I were turning aside
from the great issues of a campaign for personal ad
venture."
"It was forced upon you."
"So it was, but that fact does not take from it the
sensational look."
Harley was silent. He knew that Mr. Grayson's
point was well made, but he knew also that he must
send the despatch.
The candidate made no further reference to the
subject, and five minutes later they saw horsemen
rise out of the plain and gallop towards them. As
Harley had said, a presidential nominee was not lost
in the dark and the storm every night, and this little
Western town was mightily perturbed when Mr.
Gray son failed to arrive. The others had come in
safely, but already all the morning newspapers of
the country had published the fact that the candi
date was lost, swallowed up somewhere on the dark
prairie. And Mr. Grayson's instinct was correct, too,
149
THE CANDIDATE
because mingled with the wonder and speculation
was much criticism. It was boldly said in certain
supercilious circles that he had probably turned aside
on an impulse to look after some minor matter, per
haps something that was purely personal that had
nothing to do with the campaign. Churchill, late the
night before, had sent to the Monitor a despatch
written in his most censorious manner, in that vein
of reluctant condemnation that so well suited his
sense of superiority. He was loath to admit that
the candidate was proving inadequate to his high
position, but the circumstances indicated it, and the
proof was becoming cumulative. He also sent a tele
gram to the Honorable Mr. Goodnight, in New York,
and the burden of it was the need of a restraining
force, a force near at hand, and able to meet every
evil with instant cure.
But the Western horsemen who met Jimmy Gray-
son they clung to their affectionate "Jimmy"
were swayed by no such emotions. They repeated a
shout of welcome, and wanted to know how and
where he had passed the night, to all of which ques
tions the candidate, with easy humor, returned ready
and truthful replies, although he did not say any
thing for the present about the adventure of the old
man and of the young one who was now the old one's
son-in-law.
The driver took them straight towards a large and
attractive hotel, and it seemed to Harley that half
the population of the town was out to see the trium
phant entry of the candidate. With all the attention
of the crowd centred upon one man, Harley was
able to slip quietly through the dense ranks and enter
the hotel, where he fell at once into the hands of
Sylvia Morgan. She came forward to meet him,
150
impulsively holding out her hands, the light of wel
come sparkling in her eyes. '
"We did not know what had become of you," she
exclaimed. " We feared that you had got lost in the
quicksands of the river." And then, with a sudden
flush, she added, somewhat lamely, "We are all so
glad that Uncle James has got back safely."
Harley had read undeniable relief and welcome in
her eyes, and it gave him a peculiar thrill, a thrill at
first of absolute and unthinking joy, followed at
once by a little catch. Before him rose the square
and massive vision of "King" Plummer, and he had
an undefined sense of doing wrong.
"We've brought him back safely," he said, after
slight hesitation. "We spent the night very com
fortably in a farm-house on the prairie."
She noticed his hesitation, and her eyes became
eager.
"I do believe that you have had an adventure,"
she exclaimed. "I know that you have; I know by
your look. You must tell it to me at once."
"We have had an adventure," admitted Harley,
"and there is no reason why I shouldn't tell you of
it, as in a few hours a long account of it written by
me will be going eastward."
"I am waiting."
Harley began at once with his narrative, and they
became absorbed in it, he in the telling and she in
the hearing. While he talked and she listened
"King" Plummer approached. Now the "King"
in these later few days had begun to study the ways
of women, in so far as his limited experience enabled
him to do so, a task to which he had never turned
his attention before in his life. But the words of
Mrs. Gray son rankled; they kept him unhappy, they
THE CANDIDATE
disturbed his self-satisfaction, and made him appre
hensive for the future. He had been in the crowd
that welcomed Jimmy Gray son, he had shaken the
candidate's hand effusively, and now, when he en
tered the hotel, he found Sylvia Morgan welcoming
John Harley.
" King" Plummer did not like what he saw; it gave
him his second shock, and he paused to examine the
two with a yellow eye, and a mind reluctant to ad
mit certain facts, among them the most obvious one,
that they were a handsome couple, and of an age.
And this was a fact that did not give the "King"
pleasure. He did not dislike Harley; instead, he ap
preciated his good qualities, but just then he re
garded him with an unfriendly glance; that reality
of youth annoyed him. There was a glass on the
other side of the room, and the "King" looked at
his own reflection. He saw a large, powerful head
and broad, strong features, the whole expressing a
man at the height of his powers, at the very flood-
tide of his strength. But it was not young. The
hair was iron-gray, and there were many deep lines
in the face not unhandsome lines, yet they were
lines.
"With all his shameless youth," were the "King's"
unuttered thoughts, "I could beat him at anything,
except, perhaps, scribbling. I could live and prosper
where he would starve to death.'' And surging upon
the "King" came the memories of his long, trium
phant, and joyous struggle with wild nature. Then he
approached the couple, and greeted Harley with the
good-nature that was really a part of him. Sylvia, with
shining eyes, told at second hand, though not with
diminished effect, the story of the night, and "King"
Plummer was loud in his applause. He did not care
15*
THE CANDIDATE
what criticism the supercilious might make, the act
was to him spontaneous and natural.
"But I don't see why you should have been with
Jimmy Grayson then," he said, frankly, to Harley.
"You are an Easterner, new to these parts, and it
isn't right that just you should be along when the
interestin' things happen."
Harley could not help laughing at the naive re
mark, but he liked "King" Plummer all the better
for it. The "King," however, gave him no more
chance to talk alone that day with Sylvia. Mr.
Plummer showed the greatest regard for Miss Mor
gan's health and comfort, and did not try to hide
his solicitude; he was continually about her, arrang
ing little conveniences for the journey, and intro
ducing Idaho topics, familiar to them, but to which
Harley was necessarily a stranger. The "King,"
with his wide sense of Western hospitality, would
not have done this at another time, but in view of
the close relationship between himself and Sylvia he
regarded it as pardonable.
The watchful Mrs. Grayson saw it all, and at first
she regarded the "King" with an approving eye,
but by - and - by the approval changed to a frown.
There was something forced in his manner; it was
just the least bit unconvincing. It was clear to her
that he was overdoing it, and in her opinion that
was as bad as not doing it at all. Nor did she like
the spectacle of a middle-aged man of affairs trying
to play the gallant; there was another manner, one
just as good, that would become him more. She
was impelled to admonish him again, but she re
strained herself, reflecting that she had not im
proved matters by her first warning, and she might
make them worse by her second. Nevertheless, she
THE CANDIDATE
summoned the nominee of a great party to the
American Presidency to a conference, and he came
with more alacrity than he would have obeyed the
call of a conference of governors.
"Sylvia is doing what it is natural for her to do,"
she said, abruptly.
"Then, my dear, why find fault with me because
of it?" replied the mystified candidate.
"I don't find fault with you; I merely want your
advice, although I know that you can have none to
give."
The candidate wisely kept silent, and waited for
the speaker of the house to proceed.
"Sylvia is your niece, and Mr. Plummer is your
most powerful political supporter in the West," she
said. "If she jilts him because of any fancy or im
pulse well, you know such things can make men,
especially elderly men, do very strange deeds. I
speak of it because I am sure it must have been in
your thoughts."
The candidate stirred uneasily.
"It is a thing that I do not like to take into con
sideration," he said.
"Nor do I, but it forces itself upon us."
"It is right that Harley should pay her attention.
They are members of this party, and they are of an
age likely to make them congenial."
" That is where the danger lies. It may not amount
at present to anything more than a fancy, but a
fancy can make a very good beginning."
They talked on at length and with much earnest
ness, but they could come to no other conclusion
than to use that last refuge, silence and waiting.
Meanwhile Sylvia was enjoying herself. She was
young and vigorous, and she had a keen zest in life.
THE CANDIDATE
She was surrounded by men, some young, too, who
had seen much of the world, and they interested her;
neither would she have been human, nor of her sex,
if their attentions had not pleased her; and there,
too, was the great campaign throwing its glow over
everything. She was gracious even to the "King,"
whom she had been treating rather worse than he
deserved for several days. She seemed to appre
ciate his increased gallantry, and it was "dear old
daddy" very often now, whether in the comparative
privacy of the Grayson family circle or in the larger
group of the young correspondents and politicians.
The "King" was delighted with the change, and his
own manner became easy and happy. He looked
once or twice at the lady whom he considered his
mentor, Mrs. Grayson, and expected to see approval
and satisfaction on her face, too, but she was stern
and impenetrable, and the "King" said to himself
that after all she was not so startlingly acute.
Sylvia was telling some anecdote of the West to
her new friends, and, as the incident was rather re
markable, she thought it necessary to have confirma
tion.
" It happened before I was born, but you were there
then, and you know all about it, don't you, daddy?"
"King" Plummer quickly nodded confirmation
and smiled at the memory. The event had inter
ested him greatly, and he was glad to vouch for its
truth. He was pleased all the more when he saw
the others looking at him with the respect and defer
ence due to his thoughts halted suddenly in their
course and turned into another channel. Then he
found himself frowning. He did not like the con
junction of "dear old daddy " and of a thing that
had happened many years ago.
THE CANDIDATE
The "King" quietly slipped away from the party,
and he noticed with intense gloom that his depart
ure did not seem to make as much difference as it
should. For a whole afternoon he was silent, and
many corrugations formed temporarily in his brow,
indicating resolved thought. Nor were appearances
wrong, because the "King" was laboriously drag
ging himself up to the edge of a mighty resolution.
He was physically as brave a man as ever walked;
in early and rougher days he had borne a ready Win
chester, but this emergency was something new in
his experience, and naturally he hesitated at the
venture. However, just after supper, when Sylvia
was alone in the drawing-room of the car, he ap
proached her. She looked up at him and smiled,
but the "King's" face was set with the power of his
resolve.
"Come in, daddy," she said.
The "King" did not smile, nor did he sit down.
"Sylvia," he said, "I have a favor to ask of you."
"Why certainly, daddy, anything in reason, and
I know you would not ask anything out of it."
"Sylvia, I want you to promise me never to call
me daddy again, either in private, as here between
ourselves, or before others."
She looked up at him, her eyes wide with astonish
ment.
"Why," she exclaimed, "I've called you that ever
since you found me a little, little girl alone in the
mountains."
"I know it, but it's time to stop. I'm no blood
kin to you at all. And I'm not so ancient. The his
tory of the West didn't begin with me."
The wonder in her eyes deepened, and the "King"
felt apprehensive, though he stood to his guns. But
156
THE CANDIDATE
when she laughed, a joyous, spontaneous laugh, he
felt hurt.
"I'll make you the promise readily enough," she
said, "but I can't keep it; I really can't. I'll try
awful hard, but I'm so used to daddy that it will
be sure to pop out just when I'm expecting it least."
The "King" looked at her moodily, not sure
whether she was laughing at him or at her own per
plexity.
"Then you just try," he said, at last, yielding to a
mood of compromise, and stalked abruptly out of
the drawing-room.
Sylvia, watching him, saw how stiffly and squarely
he held his shoulders, and what long and abrupt
strides he took, and her mood of merriment was sud
denly succeeded by one of sadness mingled just a lit
tle with apprehension. She spoke twice under her
breath, and the two brief sentences varied by only a
single word. The first was "Dear old daddy!" and
the second was "Poor old daddy 1"
XI
THE HARRYING OF HERBERT
A^ unexpected addition and honor was now ap
proaching, and it was Hobart who told them
of it.
"Our little party is about to receive a touch of
real distinction and dignity something that it needs
very much," he said, laying the newspaper that he
had been reading upon the dusty car seat and glanc
ing at Harley. They had returned to their special
train.
"What do you mean?" asked Harley, though his
tone betrayed no great interest.
"I quote from the columns of our staid contem
porary, the New York Monitor, Churchill's sheet,
the representative of solid, quiet, and cultured worth,"
said Hobart, pompously. " ' It has been felt for some
time by thoughtful leaders of our party in the East
that Jimmy Gray son and the " shirt-sleeves" Western
politicians who now surround him are showing too
much familiarity with the people. A certain re
serve, a certain dignity of manner which, while hold
ing the crowd at a distance also inspires it with a
proper respect, is desirable on the part of the official
head of a great party, a presidential nominee. The
personal democracy of Mr. Grayson is having a dis
concerting effect upon important financial circles,
and also is inspiring unfavorable comments in the
THE CANDIDATE
English press, extracts from which we print upon
another page.' '
"What on earth has the opinion of the English
press to do with our presidential race?" asked Har-
ley.
"You may search me," replied Hobart. "I mere
ly quote from the columns of the Monitor. But in
order to save time, I tell you that all this preamble
leads to the departure for the West of the Honorable
Herbert Henry Heath cote, who, after his graduation
at Harvard, took a course at Oxford, lived much
abroad, and who now, by grace of his father's worth
and millions, is the national committeeman from his
state. For some days Herbert has been speeding in
our direction, and to-morrow he will join us at Red
Cloud. It is more than intimated that he will take
charge of the tour of Jimmy Grayson, and put it
upon the proper plane of dignity and reserve."
Harley said no more, but, borrowing the paper,
read the account carefully, and then put it down
with a sigh, foreseeing trouble. Herbert Heathcote's
father had been a great man in his time, self -created,
a famous merchant, an able party worker, in thor
ough touch with American life, and he had served
for many years as the honored chairman of the
national committee, although in a moment of weak
ness he had sent his son abroad to be educated.
Now he was dead, but remembered well, and as a
presidential campaign costs much money legitimate
money and his son was a prodigal giver, the leaders
could not refuse to the younger Heathcote the place
of national committeeman from his state.
"What do you think of it?" asked Harley, at last.
"I refuse to think," replied Hobart. "I shall
merely wait and see."
THE CANDIDATE
But the Honorable William Plummer expressed his
scorn in words befitting his open character.
The paper was passed on until it reached Mrs.
Grayson and Sylvia. Mrs. Grayson, with her usual
reserve, said nothing. Sylvia was openly indignant.
"I shall snub this man," she said, "unless he is of
the kind that thinks it cannot be snubbed."
"I fear that it is his kind," said Harley.
"It looks like it," she said.
At noon the next day, when they were at Red
Cloud, Herbert Henry Heathcote arrived on the
train from the East, and the arrival of him was wit
nessed by Harley, Hobart, Mr. Plummer, and several
others, who had gone to the station for that purpose
and none other.
Mr. Heathcote, as he alighted from the train, was
obviously a person of importance, his apparel, even
had his manner been hidden, disclosing the fact to
the most casual observer. A felt hat, narrow-brim
med and beautifully creased in the crown, sat grace
fully upon his head. His light overcoat was baggy
enough in the back to hold another man, as Mr.
Heathcote was not large, and white spats were the
final touch of an outfit that made the less sophisti
cated of the spectators gasp. "King" Plummer
swore half audibly.
"I wish my luggage to be carried up to the hotel,"
said Mr. Heathcote, importantly, to the station
agent.
"He calls it 'luggage,' and this in Colorado!"
groaned Hobart.
"Your what?" exclaimed the station agent, a
large man in his shirt-sleeves, with a pen thrust be
hind his ear.
"My luggage; my trunk," replied Mr. Heathcote.
160
THE CANDIDATE
"Then you had better cany it yourself; I've noth
ing to do with it," said the agent, with Western
brusqueness, as he turned away.
Harley, always ready to seize an opportunity, and
resolved to mitigate things, stepped forward.
"I beg your pardon, but this is Mr. Heathcote,
is it not?" he asked, courteously.
The committeeman put a glass in his eye and re
garded him quite coolly. Harley, despite his ha
bitual self-control, shuddered. He did not mind the
supercilious gaze, but he knew the effect of the mono
cle upon the crowd.
"Yes, I am Mr. Heathcote," said the committee-
man, "and you ah I don't believe ah "
"I haven't been introduced," said Harley, with a
smile, "but I can introduce myself; it's all right here
in the West. I merely wanted to tell you that you
had better get them at the hotel to send the porter
down for your trunk. There are no carriages, but
it's only a short walk to the hotel. It's the large
white building on the hill in front of you."
"Thank you ah Mr. Hardy."
"Harley," corrected the correspondent, quietly.
" I was about to say ah that the press can make
itself useful at times."
Harley flushed slightly.
"Yes, even under the most adverse circumstances,"
he said.
But Mr. Heathcote was already on the way to the
hotel, his white spats gleaming in the sunshine. It
was evident that he intended to keep the press in
its proper place.
"You made a mistake when you volunteered
your help, Harley," said Hobart. "A man like that
should be received with a club. But you just wait
ii 161
THE CANDIDATE
until the West gets through with him. Your revenge
will be brought to you on a silver plate."
"I'm not thinking of myself," replied Harley,
gravely. " It's the effect of this on Jimmy Grayson's
campaign that's bothering me. Colorado is doubt
ful, and so are Utah and Wyoming and Idaho; can
we go through them with a man like Heathcote,
presumably in charge of our party?"
Proof that Harley's fears were justified was forth
coming at once. The crowd at the station, drawn
by various causes, had been usually large, and Mr.
Heathcote was received with a gasp of amazement.
But nothing was said until the white spats of the
committeeman disappeared in the hotel. Then the
people crowded around the correspondents, with
whom a six hours' stop was sufficient to make them
familiar. "Who is he?" they asked. "Is he a
plutocrat?" "It's a Wall Street shark, sure."
"Does Jimmy Gray son mean to hobnob with a
man like that ? " " Then we can't trust him
either. He's going to be a monopolist, too, and
his claiming to be champion of the people is all a
bluff."
Harley explained with care that Mr. Heathcote
was important. To run a great presidential campaign
required much money special trains must be paid for,
halls had to be hired for speakers, there was a vast
amount of printing to be done, and many other ex
penses that must be met. Their party was poor, as
everybody knew, most of the wealth being on the
other side; and, when a man like Heathcote was will
ing to contribute his thousands, there was nothing
to do but to take him. But they need not be alarmed ;
he could not corrupt Jimmy Grayson; the candidate
was too stanch, too true, too much of a real man to
162
THE CANDIDATE
be turned from the right path by any sinister East
ern influence.
But the people were not mollified; they resented
Mr. Heathcote's manner as well as his dress. Why
had he not stopped at the station a few minutes, and
shaken hands with those who would have been glad
to meet him for the sake of fellowship in the party ?
Harley heard again the word "Plutocrat," and,
deeming it wise to say nothing more for the present,
walked back to the hotel. On the long porch sat
a row of men in rocking-chairs correspondents, town
officials, and politicians, following in the wake of Jim
my Grayson. A state senator, a big, white-bearded
man named Curtis, who had been travelling with
them for three days, jerked his finger over his shoul
der, pointing to the interior of the hotel, and said,
mysteriously, to Harley:
"Where did you get it?"
"New York," replied Harley, sadly.
"Can't you lose it?"
"I don't know," replied Harley, hopefully, "but
we can try."
Hobart, who was in the next chair, put his right
foot across his left knee and nursed it judicially.
"It is eating its dinner now," he said. "It said:
'Landlord, I want a table alone. I do not wish to be
disturbed.' And just think, Harley, this is Colorado!
Landlord, otherwise Bill Jeffreys, was so taken aback
that he said, 'All right.' But the Honorable Herbert
Henry Heathcote is being watched. There are three
cowboys, at this very moment, peeping in at his
window."
There was a dead silence for at least a minute,
broken at last by Barton.
"Gentlemen," he said, "you do not yet know the
163
THE CANDIDATE
full, the awful truth; I accidentally heard Heath-
cote telling Jeffreys about it."
"Why, what can be worse?" asked Harley, and
he was in earnest.
"Mr. Heathcote's man his valet, do you under
stand arrives to-night. He is to have a place in the
car, and to travel with us, in order that he may wait
on his master."
"King" Plummer uttered an oath.
"The West can stand a good many things, but it
won't stand that," he exclaimed. "A national com-
mitteeman of our party travelling with his valet on
the train with Jimmy Grayson ! It '11 cost us at least
six states. We ain't women!"
There succeeded a gloomy silence that lasted until
Heathcote himself appeared upon the porch, fresh,
dapper, and patronizing.
"I hope you enjoyed your dinner, Mr. Heathcote,"
said Harley, ever ready to be a peacemaker.
"Thank you, Mr. Hardy ah, Harley; it did very
well for the frontier one does not expect much here,
you know."
Harley glanced uneasily at the men in the chairs,
but Mr. Heathcote went on, condescendingly :
"I am now going for an interview with Mr. Gray-
son in his room. We shall be there at least an hour,
and we wish to be quite alone, as I have many things
of importance to say."
No one spoke, but twenty pairs of eyes followed
the committeeman as he disappeared in the hotel
on his way to Jimmy Grayson's room. Then Al-
vord, the town judge, a man of gigantic stature, rose
to his feet and said, in a mimicking, feminine
voice :
"Gentlemen, I am going to the bar, and I shall be
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THE CANDIDATE
there at least an hour; I wish to be quite alone, as I
shall have many important things to drink."
There was a burst of laughter that relieved the
constraint somewhat, and then, obedient to an in
vitation from the judge, they filed solemnly in to the
bar.
The candidate was to speak in the afternoon, and as
he would raise some new issues, sure to be of interest
to the whole country, Harley, following his familiar
custom, went in search of Mr. Gray son for prelimi
nary information. The hour set aside by Mr. Heath-
cote had passed long since, and Harley thought that
he would be out of the way.
Jimmy Grayson's room was on the second floor,
and Harley walked slowly up the steps, but at the
head of the stairway he was met by Mr. Heathcote
himself.
"Good -afternoon," said Harley, cheerfully. "I
hope that you had a pleasant talk with Mr. Gray-
son. I'm going in to see him now myself; a presi
dential nominee can't get much rest."
Mr. Heathcote drew himself up importantly.
"I beg your pardon," he said, "but you cannot-r-
ah see Mr. Grayson. There has been a feeling with
us in the East we are in a position there to judge,
being in thorough touch with the great world that
it was not advisable for Mr. Grayson to speak to or
to come in direct contact with the press. This famil
iar talk with the newspapers rather impairs the con
fidence of our great magnates and prejudices us in
the eyes of Europe. It is better ah that his re
marks should be transmitted through a third person,
who can give to the press what is fitting and reserve
the remainder."
Harley gazed at Heathcote in amazement, but
165
THE CANDIDATE
there was nothing in his manner to indicate that he
was not in earnest.
"And you are the third person, I suppose?" said
Harley.
"I have so constituted myself," replied Mr. Heath-
cote, and his tone was aggravatingly quiet and as
sured. "As one conversant with great affairs, I am
the most fit."
"Has Mr. Grayson agreed to this?" asked Harley.
"My dear man, I cannot permit you to cross-
examine me. But, really, I wish to be on good terms
with the press, which is quite a useful institution
within its limits. Now, you seem to be rather more
sedate than the others, and I wish you would have
the goodness to explain to them how I have taken
affairs in hand."
Harley flushed at his patronizing tone, and for a
moment he was tempted to thrust him out of his
way and proceed with his errand to Jimmy Gray-
son's room, but he reflected that it was better to let
the committeeman make the rope for his own hang
ing, and he turned away with a quiet, "Very well, I
shall forego the interview."
But as he went back down the stairs he could not
help asking himself the question, " Does Jimmy Gray-
son know? Could he have consented to such an
arrangement?" and at once came the answer "Im
possible."
He returned to the porch, where all the chairs were
filled, although the talk was slow. He noticed, with
pleasure, that Churchill was absent. The descend
ing sun had just touched the crests of the distant
mountains, and they swam in a tremulous golden
glow. The sunset radiance over nature in her
mighty aspects affected all on the porch, used as
166
THE CANDIDATE
they were to it, and that wds why they were silent.
But they turned inquiring eyes upon Harley when
he joined them.
"What has become of Heathcote?" asked Bar
ton.
"He is engaged upon an important task just now,"
replied Harley.
"And what is that?"
"He is editing Jimmy Grayson's speech."
Twenty chairs came down with a crash, and twenty
pairs of eyes stared in indignant astonishment.
"King" Plummer's effort to hold himself in his
chair seemed to be a strain.
"He may not be doing that particular thing at
this particular moment," continued Harley, "but he
told me very distinctly that he was here for that
purpose, and he has also just told me that I could
not see Jimmy Gray son, that he intended hence
forth to act as an intermediary between the candi
date and the press."
"And you stood it?" exclaimed Hobart.
"For the present, yes," replied Harley, evenly;
"and I did so because I thought I saw a better way
out of the trouble than an immediate quarrel with
Heathcote a better way, above all, for Jimmy Gray-
son and the party."
The Western men said nothing, though they looked
their deep disgust, and presently they quitted the
porch, leaving it, rocking-chairs and all, to the cor
respondents.
"Boys," said Harley, earnestly, "I've a request to
make of you. Let me take the lead in this affair;
I've a plan that I think will work."
"Well, you are in a measure the chief of our corps,"
said Warrener, one of the Chicago men. "I don't
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know why you are, but all of us have got to looking
on you in that way."
"I, for one, promise to be good and obey," said
Hobart, "but I won't deny that it will be a hard job.
Perhaps I could stand the man, if it were not for his
accent it sounds to me as if his voice were coming
out of the top of his head, instead of his chest, where
a good, honest voice ought to have its home."
"Now you listen," said Harley, "and I will my
tale unfold."
Then they put their heads together and talked
long and earnestly.
The shaggy mountains were in deep shadow, and
the sunset was creeping into the west when Jimmy
Grayson came out on the porch where the corre
spondents yet sat. Harley at once noticed a signifi
cant change in his appearance; he looked troubled.
Before, if he was troubled, he always hid it and turn
ed a calm eye to every issue; but this evening there
was something new and extraordinary about Jimmy
Grayson; he was ashamed and apologetic obviously
so, and Harley felt a thrill of pity that a man so in
tensely proud under all his democracy, or perhaps
because of it, should be forced into a position in
which he must be, seemingly at least, untrue to him
self.
The candidate hesitated and glanced at the cor
respondents, his comrades of many a long day, as if
he expected them to ask him questions, but no one
spoke. The sinking sun dropped behind the moun
tains, and the following shadow also lay across Jim
my Grayson's face. He was the nominee of a great
party for President of the United States, but there
was a heart in him, and these young men, who had
gone with him through good times and bad times,
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THE CANDIDATE
through weary days and weary nights, were to him
like the staff that has followed a general over many
battle-fields. He glanced again at the correspond
ents, but, as they continued to stare resolutely at
the dark mountains, he turned and walked abruptly
into the hotel.
"Boys," exclaimed Barton, "it's tough!"
"Yes, damned tough," said Hobart.
"King" Plummer, who was with them, maintained
a stony silence.
An hour later the valet of the Honorable Herbert
Henry Heathcote, a smooth, trim young Englishman,
arrived in Red Cloud, and never before in his vassal
life had he been a person of so much importance.
The news had been spread in Red Cloud that a rare
specimen was coming, a kind hitherto unknown in
those regions. When John that was his name
alighted from the train in the dusk of a vast, deso
late Western night, a crowd of tanned, tall men was
packed closely about him, watching every movement
that he made. Harley saw him glance fearfully at
the dark throng, but no one said a word. As he
moved towards the hotel, a valise in either hand, the
way opened before him, but the crowd, arranging
itself in a solid mass behind him, followed, still silent,
until he reached the shelter of the building and the
protecting wing of his master. Then it dispersed in
an orderly manner, but the only subject of conver
sation in Red Cloud was the Honorable Herbert
Henry Heathcote and his "man," especially the
"man."
At the appointed hour the candidate spoke from
a stage in the public square, and it would not be fair
to say that his address fell flat ; but for the first time
in the long campaign Harley noticed a certain cold-
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THE CANDIDATE
ness on the part of the audience, a sense of aloofness,
as if Jimmy Gray son were not one of them, but a
stranger in the town whom they must treat decently,
although they might not approve of him or his ways.
And Harley did not have to seek the cause, for there
at a corner of the stage sat a dominating presence,
the Honorable Herbert Henry Heathcote, his neck
encircled by a very high collar, his trousers turned up
at the bottom, and his white spats gleaming through
the darkness. More eyes were upon him than upon
the candidate, but Mr. Heathcote was not daunted.
His own gaze, as it swept the audience, was at times
disapproving and at other times condescending.
About the middle of the speech the night, as usual,
grew chilly, and Mr. Heathcote's "man," stepping
upon the stage, assisted him on with a light over
coat. A gasp went up from the crowd, and the
candidate, stopping, looked back and saw the cause.
Again that shadow came over his face, but in a
moment he recovered himself and went on as if
there had been no interruption. When the speech
was finished Mr. Heathcote stood a moment by
the table at which Harley was still writing, and
said:
"I think you and your associates should leave
out of your report that part about our foreign
relations. However well received in the West, I
doubt whether it would have a very good effect in
the East."
"But he said it," exclaimed Harley, looking up in
surprise.
"Quite true, but there should be a certain reserve
on the part of the press. These expressions have
about them a trace of rawness, perhaps inseparable
from a man like our nominee, who is the product of
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THE CANDIDATE
Western conditions. I trust that I shall be able to
correct this unfortunate tendency."
Harley was burning with anger, but the long prac
tice of self-control enabled him to hide it. He did
not reply, but resumed his work. Mr. Heathcote
spoke to him again, but Harley, his head bent over
his pad, went on with his writing. Nor did any of
the other correspondents speak. The committee-
man, astonished and indignant, left the stage, and,
followed by his "man," returned to the hotel between
two silent files of spectators.
"Experience number one," was the only comment
of the correspondents, and it came from Barton.
When Harley went into the hotel he saw Jimmy
Grayson leaning against the clerk's desk as if he
were waiting for something. He glanced at Harley,
and there was a tinge of reproach in his look. Har
ley 's resolution faltered, but it was only for a mo
ment, and then, taking his key from the clerk, he
went in silence to his room. He understood the
position of Jimmy Grayson, he knew how much the
party was indebted to Mr. Heathcote for payment
of the campaign's necessary expenses, but he was
determined to carry out his plan, which he believed
would succeed.
But there was one man in Jimmy Grayson's group
to whom the appearance of Mr. Heathcote was wel
come, and this was Churchill, who was sure that he
recognized in him a kindred spirit. He sent a long
despatch to the Monitor, telling of the very beneficial
effect the committeeman's presence already exer
cised upon the campaign, particularly the new tone
of dignity that he had given to it. He also cultivated
Mr. Heathcote, and was willing to furnish him defer
ential advice.
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As the special train was to leave early the next
morning for the northern part of the state, they
ate breakfast in a dim dawn, with only the rim of
the sun showing over the eastern mountains. Mr.
Heathcote came in late and found every chair oc
cupied. No one moved or took any notice. Jimmy
Grayson looked embarrassed, and said in a propitia
tory tone to the proprietor, who stood near the
window:
"Can't you fix a place for Mr. Heathcote?"
"Oh, I guess I kin bring in a little table from the
kitchen," replied Bill Jeffreys, negligently, "but he'll
have to hustle; that train goes in less than ten min
utes."
The table was brought in, and Mr. Heathcote ate
more quickly than ever before in his life, although
he found time for caustic criticism of the hotel ac
commodations in Red Cloud. Just as he put down his
half - emptied coffee - cup the train blew a warning
whistle.
"That engineer is at least three minutes ahead of
time," said Barton.
"He's a lively fellow," said Hobart. "I was up
early, and he told me he wasn't going to wait a single
minute, even if he did have a Presidential nominee
aboard."
The eyes of Barton and Hobart met, and Barton
understood.
"We'd better run for it," said Barton, and they
hurried to the train, Mr. Heathcote borne on in the
press. As they settled into their seats Barton point
ed out of the window, and cried: "Look! Look!
The 'man' is about to get left!"
John, a valise in one hand and a hat -box in the
other, was rushing for the train, which had already
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THE CANDIDATE
begun to move. But the conductor reached down
the steps, grasped him by the collar, and dragged
him, baggage and all, aboard. John appeared hum
bly before his master, who was silent, however,
merely waving him to a seat. Mr. Heathcote was
apparently indignant about something. By- and -
by he stated that his valet had been forced to leave
Red Cloud without anything to eat. Nobody had
looked after the man, and he could not understand
such neglect. He would like to have a porter bring
him something. Old Senator Curtis, who was with
them, spoke up from a full heart:
"He'll have to go hungry. There's no dining-car
on this train, and he can't get a bite, even for a bag
ful of money, till we get to Willow Grange at two
o'clock this afternoon."
The senator was not excessively polite, and Mr.
Heathcote opened his mouth as if to speak, but,
changing his mind, closed it. He glanced at Jimmy
Gray son, who looked troubled, although he, also,
maintained silence. Neither would any one else
speak; but every one was taking notice. Harley in
his heart felt sorry for the poor valet, who seemed to
be an inoffensive fellow, suited to his humble trade ;
but a political campaign in the Rocky Mountain
West was no place for him ; he must take what cir
cumstances dealt out to him.
The committeeman presently recovered his sense
of his own worth and dignity, and spoke in a large
manner of the plans that he would take to raise the
tone of the campaign. The candidate still looked
troubled and made no comment. The local public
men, the correspondents, and all on the little train
were silent, staring out of the windows, apparently
engrossed in the scenery, which was now becoming
THE CANDIDATE
grand and beautiful. Ridge rose above ridge, and
afar the peaks, clad in eternal snow, looked down like
heaven's silent sentinels.
Mr. Heathcote was very courteous to Mrs. Gray-
son, but at first he scarcely noticed Sylvia, although
a little later he expressed admiration for her beauty,
not doubting, however, that he would find her the
possessor of an uncultivated mind.
Towards the noon hour a tragic discovery was made.
After the candidate's last speech in the evening the
train would leave immediately for Utah, and all
continuing on the way must sleep aboard. Room
had been found in some manner for Mr. Heathcote,
but every other berth, upper and lower, had been
assigned long ago, and there was nothing left for his
man. But Mr. Heathcote, resolved not to be tram
pled upon, went in a state of high indignation to the
conductor.
"I must have a place for my man. I cannot
travel without an attendant."
"Jimmy Grayson does," replied the conductor, a
rude Democrat of the West; "and your fellow can't
have any, because there ain't any to be had ; besides,
it's 'cordin' to train rules that dogs an' all such-like
should travel in the baggage-car."
Mr. Heathcote refused to speak again to such a
man, and complained to the candidate. But Jimmy
Grayson could do nothing.
"This train on which we now are is paid for jointly
by the committeemen of Colorado, Utah, and Idaho,"
he said, "and I have nothing to do with the arrange
ments. I should not like to attempt interference."
Mr. Heathcote looked at old Senator Curtis, who
seemed to be in charge, but, apprehending a blow
to his dignity, he refrained from pressing the point,
i74
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and the lackey slept that night as well as he could on
a seat in the smoking-car.
The next few days, which were passed chiefly in
Utah, were full of color and events. Life became
very strenuous for the Honorable Herbert Henry
Heathcote. He learned how to take his meals on
the wing, as it were, to run for trains, to snatch two
hours' sleep anywhere between midnight and morn
ing, and to be jostled by rude crowds that failed to
recognize his superiority. The full-backed light over
coat, during its brief existence the focus of so much
attention, was lost in a dinner rush and never re
appeared. But, above all, Mr. Heathcote had upon
his hands the care of the helpless, miserable lackey,
and never did a sick baby require more attention.
John was lost amid his strange and terrible surround
ings. At mountain towns crowds of boys, and some
times men, would surround him and jeer at his pe
culiar appearance, and his master would be com
pelled to come forcibly to his rescue. He never
learned how to run for the car, with his arms full of
baggage, and once, boarding a wrong train, he was
run off on a branch line a full fifty miles. He was
rescued only after infinite telegraphing and two days'
time, when he reappeared, crestfallen and terrified.
And there was trouble plenty of it aboard the
train. There was never a berth for the lackey,
who was relegated permanently to the smoking-car.
Mr. Heathcote himself sometimes had to fight,
bribe, and intrigue for one and often he failed to
get breakfast or dinner through false information or
the carelessness of somebody. He made full ac
quaintance with the pangs of hunger, and many a
time, when every nerve in him called for sleep, there
was no place to lay his weary head.
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THE CANDIDATE
Now the iron entered the soul of the Honorable
Herbert, and he became a soured and disappointed
man, but he stuck gravely to his chosen task. Har-
'ley, despite his dislike, could not keep from admiring
his tenacity. Nobody, except the candidate, paid
the slightest attention to him; even Sylvia and Mrs.
Gray son ignored him ; if he made suggestions, nobody
said anything to the contrary, but they were never
adopted, and Mr. Heathcote noticed, too, that the
others seemed to be enduring the life easily, while it
was altogether too full for him. If there was any
angle, he seemed somehow to knock against it; and
if there was any pitfall, it was he who fell into it.
But he gave no sign of returning to the East, and his
misfortunes continued. From time to time they got
copies of the Western papers containing full reports
of Jimmy Grayson's canvass, and none of them, ex
cept the Monitor, ever spoke flatteringly of the Hon
orable Herbert or his efforts to put the campaign on
a higher plane.
Churchill spoke once to the group of correspond'
ents and politicians about the lack of deference paid
to the committeeman, but he was invited so feelingly
to attend to his own business that he never again
risked it. However, he said in his despatches to
the Monitor that even Mr. Heathcote's efforts could
not keep the campaign on a dignified level.
At last, on one dreadful day, they lost the lackey
again, and this time there was no hope of recovery.
He had been seen, his hands full of baggage, running
for the wrong train, and when they heard from him
he was far down in Colorado, stranded, and there
was no possible chance for him to overtake the
"special." Accordingly, his master, acting under
expert advice, telegraphed him money and a ticket
176
THE CANDIDATE
and ordered him back to New York. When the news
was taken to the candidate Harley saw an obvious
look of relief on his face. That valet had been a ter
rible weight upon the campaign, and none knew it
better than Jimmy Gray son.
Mr. Heathcote now became morose and silent.
Much of his lofty and patronizing air disappeared,
although the desire to instruct would crop out at
times. Usually he was watchful and suspicious, but
the struggle for bread and a place to sleep necessa
rily consumed a large portion of his energies. As
time dragged on his manner became that of one
hunted, but doggedly enduring, nevertheless. The
candidate always spoke to him courteously, when
ever he had a chance, but then there was little time
for conversation, as the campaign was now hot and
fast. Mr. Heathcote was, in fact, a man alone in
the world, and outlawed too. The weight upon him
grew heavier and heavier as his path became thornier
and thornier; the angles, the corners, and the pit
falls seemed to multiply, and always he was the vic
tim. Jimmy Grayson looked now and then as if he
would like to interfere, but there was no way for him
to interfere, nor any one with whom he could inter
fere.
Mr. Heathcote still clung bravely to some portions
of his glorious wardrobe. The white spats he yet
sported, in the face of a belligerent Western democ
racy, and he paid the full price. Harley acknowl
edged this merit in him, and once or twice, when the
committeeman, amid the comments of the ribald
crowd, turned a pathetic look upon him, he was
moved to pity and a desire to help; but the last
feeling he resolutely crushed, and held on his way.
The campaign swung farther westward and north-
17?
THE CANDIDATE
ward, and into a primitive wilderness, where the
audiences were composed solely of miners and cow
boys. Old Senator Curtis and several other of the
Colorado men were still with them, and one night
they spoke at a mining hamlet on the slope of a
mountain that shot ten thousand feet above them.
The candidate was in great form, and made one of
his best speeches, amid roars of applause. The au
dience was so well pleased that it would not disperse
when he finished, and wished vociferously to know
if there were not another spellbinder on the stage.
Then the spirit of mischief entered the soul of Hobart.
The Honorable Herbert sat at the corner of the
stage, the white spats still gleaming defiance, his
whole appearance, despite recent modifications, show
ing that he was a strange bird in a strange land.
Hobart constituted himself chairman for the mo
ment, and, pointing to Mr. Heathcote, said:
"Gentlemen, one of the ablest and most famous of
our national committeemen is upon the stage, and
he will be glad to address you."
The audience cheered, half in expectation and
half in derision, but the Honorable Herbert, who
had never made a speech in his life, rose to the cry.
His figure straightened up, there was a new light in
his eye, and Harley, startled, did not know Mr.
Heathcote. As he advanced to the edge of the stage
the shouts of derision overcame those of expecta
tion. Harley heard the words "Dude!" "Tender
foot!" mingled with the cries, but the Honorable
Herbert gave no sign that he heard. He reached the
edge of the stage, waved his hand, and then there was
silence.
"Friends," he said " I call you such, though you
have not received me in a friendly manner "
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THE CANDIDATE
The crowd breathed hard, and some one uttered a
threat, but another man commanded silence. "Give
him a chance!" he said.
"You have not received me in a friendly manner,"
resumed the Honorable Herbert, "but I am your
friend, and I am resolved that you shall be mine. I
cannot make a speech to you, but I will tell you a
story which perhaps will serve as well."
"Go on with the story," said the men, doubtfully.
On the stage there was a general waking-up. Cor
respondents and politicians alike recognized the Hon
orable Herbert's new manner, and they bent forward
with interest.
"My story," said Mr. Heathcote, "is of a man
who had a fond and perhaps too generous father.
This father had suffered great hardships, and he
wished to save his son from them. What more nat
ural? But perhaps, in his tenderness, he did the
son a wrong. So this son grew up, not seeing the
rough side of life, and finding all things easy. He
lived in a part of the country that is old and rich,
where what is called necessity you call luxury. He
knew nothing of the world except that portion of it
to which he was used. What more natural? Is not
that human nature everywhere ? He saw himself
petted and admired, and in the course of time he
felt himself a person of importance. Is not that
natural, too?"
He paused and looked over the audience, which
was silent and attentive, held by the interest of some
thing unusual and the deep, almost painful, earnest
ness of Mr/~Heathcote's manner.
"What's he coming to?" whispered Hobart.
"I don't know; wait and see," replied Harley.
"Thus the man grew up to know only a little world,"
179
THE CANDIDATE
the Honorable Herbert went on, "and he did not
know how little it was. He was like a prisoner in a
gorgeous room, who sees, without, snow and storm that
cannot touch him, but who is a prisoner neverthe
less. Those whom he met and with whom he lived
his daily life were like him, and they thought they
were the heart of this world. Everything about
them was golden; they saw that people wished to
hear of them, to read of them, to know all that they
did, and their view of their importance grew every
day. What more natural? Was not that human
nature?"
"I think I see which way he is going," whispered
Hobart.
Harley nodded. The audience was still and in
tent, hanging on the words of the speaker.
"This youth," continued Mr. Heathcote, "was sent
by-and-by to Europe to have his education finished,
and there all the ideas formed by his life in this coun
try were confirmed in him. He saw a society, or
ganized centuries ago, in which every man found a
definite place for life assigned to him, in accordance
with what fortune had done for him at birth. There
he received deference and homage, even more than
before, and the great, changing world, with its mighty
tides and storms that flowed about his little group,
leaving it untouched, was yet unknown to him.
" He came back to his own country, and the strong
father who had sheltered him died. He was filled with
an ambition to be a political power, as his father had
been, and the dead hand brought him the place.
Then he came into the West to join in a great political
campaign, but it was his first real excursion into the
real world, and his ignorance was heavy upon him."
A deep "Ah!" ran through the crowd, and Har-
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THE CANDIDATE
ley noticed a sudden look of respect upon the brown
faces. They were beginning to see where the thread
of the story would lead. Then Harley glanced at
old Senator Curtis, whose lips moved tremulously
for a moment. "King" Plummer was regarding
the committeeman with astonished interest.
"This man, I repeat," continued Mr. Heathcote,
"came West with his ignorance, I might almost say
with his sins heavy upon him, but it was not his fault;
it was the fault, rather, of circumstances. He seemed
a strange, a grotesque figure to these people of the
West, but they should not have forgotten that they
also seemed strange to him. It has been said that it
takes many kinds of people to make a world, and
they cannot all be alike. One point of view may
differ from another point of view, and both may be
right. If this man did anything wrong and he ad
mits that he did he did it in ignorance. There were
some with him who knew both points of view who
might have helped him, but who did not ; instead, they
made life hard; they put countless difficulties in his
way; they made him feel very wretched, very mean,
and very little. He saw the other point of view at
last, but he was not permitted to show that he saw
it ; he was put in such a position that his pride would
not let him."
The crowd suddenly burst into cheers. The keen
Western men understood, and the mountain - slope
gave back the echo, "Hurrah for Heathcote!" The
Honorable Herbert's figure swelled and his eyes
flashed. Grateful water was falling at last on the
parched desert sands.
"But, friends," he continued, "this man, though
his lesson has been rough, comes to you with no re
sentment. He has broken the bars of his prison;
181
THE CANDIDATE
he is in the real world at last, and he comes to you
asking to be one of you, to give and take with the
crowd. Will you have him?"
"Yes!" a chorus of a thousand voices roared against
the side of the mountain and came back in a thunderous
echo.
Old Senator Curtis sprang to his feet, seized Mr.
Heathcote by the hand, and shouted:
"Gentlemen, I, too, need to apologize, and also
I want to introduce to you a real man, Mr. Herbert
Henry Heathcote."
"Put me down for an apology, too," said "King"
Plummer, in his big, booming tones.
Jimmy Gray son, on the outskirts of the crowd,
returning to learn what the noise was about, saw and
heard all, and murmured to a friend:
"There is now a new member of our group, and
all is well again."
XII
CHURCHILL STRIKES
THE conversion and adoption of Mr. Heath cote,
as Hobart called it, was a pleasant incident in
several senses, bringing much quiet gratification to
them all, and particularly and obviously to the can
didate. A hostile element, one intended by others
to be hostile and interfering, had become friendly,
which, of itself, was a great gain. Moreover, the
smoothness of social intercourse was increased, and
there, too, was a new type, adding to the variety and
interest of the group.
The only one not pleased was Churchill, who had
expected much from Mr. Heathcote, and who now,
as he considered it, saw the committeeman turn
traitor. It was not a matter that he could handle
fully in his despatches to the Monitor, being too in
tangible to allow of bald assertion, and he was re
duced to indirect statement. This not satisfying him
at all, he wrote a long letter to Mr. Goodnight, both
for the sake of the cause and for the sake of his own
feelings, which had been much lacerated. Its pro
duction cost him a great deal of thought and labor;
but he had his reward, as its perusal after completion
proved to him that it was a masterpiece.
Churchill showed quite clearly to Mr. Goodnight
the steady decay of the candidate's character and
the lower levels to which his campaign was falling.
THE CANDIDATE
In the security of a private letter it was not neces
sary for him to spare words, and Churchill spoke his
mind forcibly about the manner in which Jimmy
Grayson was pandering to the "common people,"
the "ignorant mob," the " million-footed." Churchill
himself, although not old, had taken long ago the
measure of these foolish common people, and he de
spised them, his contempt giving him a very pleas
ant conviction of his own superiority.
He also poured a few vials of wrath upon the head
of Mr. Heath cote, whom he characterized as a coward,
not able to stand up against petty persecution, and
from the committeeman he passed on to others of
Mr. Grayson's immediate following, taking "King"
Plummer next. Mr. Plummer, in his opinion, was
an excellent type of democracy run to riot. He was
one of the "boys" in every sense. He was wofully
wanting in personal dignity, speaking to everybody
in the most familiar manner, and encouraging the
same form of address towards himself; he failed ut
terly to recognize the superiority of some other men,
and he was grossly ignorant, knowing nothing what
ever of Europe and the vast work that had been done
there for civilization and order. Moreover, he could
not be induced, even by the well-informed, to take any
interest in the Old World, and once had had the
rudeness to say to Churchill himself, "What in the
devil is Europe to us?"
Churchill thus subjected the views of "King"
Plummer to the process of elaboration because they
had made a vivid impression upon him. He and the
"King" had never been able to get on together, the
mountaineer treating him with rough indifference,
and Churchill returning it with a hauteur which he
considered very effective. To Churchill men of
184
THE CANDIDATE
"King" Plummer's type seemed the greatest danger
the country could have. Their lack of respect for
diplomacy, their want of form and ceremony, their
brutal habit of calling things by their names, were
in his opinion revolutionary. He did not see how
dealings with foreign nations, which always loom
ed very large to him, could be conducted by such
men. Always in his mind was the question, What
would they say in London and Vienna and Berlin?
and the Monitor, which he served faithfully, confirm
ed him through its tone in this mental state. Still
drawing his inspiration from the Monitor, he regard
ed a sneer as invariably the best weapon ; if you were
opposed to anything, the proper way to attack it
was by sneering at it; then, not having used argu
ment, you never put yourself in a position to have
your arguments refuted.
From "King" Plummer, Churchill passed to some
of his associates like the Monitor, he never hesi
tated to befoul his own nest and he told Mr. Good
night how the candidate was using them, how they
had wholly fallen under the spell of his undeniable
charm of manner, and how they wrote to please him
rather than to tell the truth.
As he sealed his long letter, Churchill felt the con
scious glow of right-doing and stern self-sacrifice.
He had written thus for the good of the party and
the good of the country, and he was strengthened,
too, by the feeling that he could not possibly be
wrong. The Monitor cultivated the sense of omni
science, which it communicated in turn to all the
members of its staff.
He passed Sylvia Morgan on his way from the
hotel reading-room to the lobby to mail his letter,
and when he met her he quickly turned down the
185
THE CANDIDATE
address on the envelope, in order that she might not
see it. It was done by impulse, and Churchill, for
the first time, had a feeling of guilt that made
him angry.
"That must be a love letter, Mr. Churchill," said
Sylvia, teasing him with the easy freedom of the
West. "Do you write her twenty-four pages, or only
twenty?"
"I have no love except my work, Miss Morgan,"
replied Churchill, assuming his most grandiose air.
" Is that a permanent affection, or a passing fancy ?"
Her face expressed the most eager interest, as if
she could not possibly be happy until she had Church
ill's answer. The words were frivolous, but her man
ner was most deferential, and Churchill concluded
that she was expressing respect in as far as what he
considered her shallow nature could do so.
"It is, I hope, a permanent passion, Miss Morgan,"
he replied, gravely. "There is a pleasure in doing
one's duty, particularly under disagreeable circum
stances, which I am happy to say I have felt more
than once, and custom usually strengthens one who
walks in the right path."
Still in this mood of contemplation, he regarded
her, and he thought he saw a slight look of awe ap
pear in her eyes. His opinion of her rose at once.
While not able to show merit of the highest degree,
she could perceive it in others, and this differentiated
her from the rest of the group. Churchill allowed him
self to see that she had a fine face and a slender,
beautiful figure, and he felt it a pity that she should
be thrown away on a crude, rough old mountaineer
like Plummer.
" I often think, Miss Morgan," he said, "that if you
had lived in the East awhile you could have been
186
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quite a match for any woman whom I have ever
known."
"Thank you," she replied, humbly. "Oh, if I
could only have lived in the East just a little while!"
"But I assure you, Miss Morgan, I have met some
very remarkable women."
"I do not doubt it, and they have had an equal
good-fortune."
Churchill looked suspiciously at her, but there was
the same touch of deference in her manner, and he
still honored her with his conversation. He per
mitted himself to discourse a little upon the affairs
which he had embodied "embodied" he felt was
the word in his letter, and she, with all a woman's
intuition, and much of masculine reasoning power,
guessed what the letter contained, although she did
not know to whom it was going. Nor did she feel
it wrong to be very attentive, as Churchill talked,
because he was doing it of his own free will, and she
had the fate of her uncle deeply at heart.
ChurchiU spoke of the campaign, venturing upon
polite criticisms of certain features that seemed ob
jectionable to him, and, listening to him, she confirm
ed her opinion that he was the personal representa
tive with Mr. Grayson of the chief elements within
the party that could cause trouble. And she felt
sure, too, that the letter he held in his hand would
add fuel to the fire already burning. She happened
also to be present several days later when a mes
senger-boy handed him a telegram, and, when he
opened it, he made an involuntary motion to hide
it, just as he ha4 done with the letter. She pre
tended not to see, and walked away, but she knew
as well as if he had told her that the telegram was
the reply to the letter.
187
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Mr. Goodnight himself sent the despatch, and he
thanked Churchill warmly for the very important
information told so luminously in his letter. The
solid and respectable portion of the party had hoped
much from the presence of Mr. Heathcote, but as
he had yielded to the influence of another, instead
of exerting his own, it would be necessary to take
additional action later. Meanwhile he requested
Mr. Churchill to keep him accurately and promptly
informed of everything, and Churchill at once tele
graphed: "Despatch received. Will be glad to com
ply with your request."
Then he congratulated himself, and felt good, his
complacent demeanor forming a contrast to that of
several others in the party. The latter were " King"
Plummer, Sylvia Morgan, and John Harley, all of
whom were unhappy.
Harley was troubled by his conscience, and he
could not do anything to keep it from sticking those
little pins into him. Sylvia Morgan, despite herself,
drew him on, not the less because his first feeling
towards her had been one of hostility. She had a
piquant touch, a manner full of unconscious allure
ment the radiation of a pure soul, though it was
that he had never seen in any other woman, and the
harder he fought against it, the more surely it con
quered him. He took from his valise a copy of that
old Chicago newspaper, with her picture on the front
page, and wondered how he could have intimated that
she was the cause of its being there. As he knew
her better, he knew that she could not have done
it, and he knew, too, that she would have scornfully
resented any insinuation of having done so by refus
ing to deny it.
The "King" was unhappy, too, in his way, and
188
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that was very bad indeed for him. He had tried an
effusive gallantry, and it did not seem to succeed
any better than obedience to his own impulses on
the whole, rather worse; and now, not knowing what
else to do, he sulked. It was not any sly sulking,
but genuine, open sulking in his large, Western way,
thus leaving it apparent to all that the great "King"
Plummer was sad. And that meant much to the
party, because in a sense it was now personally con
ducted by him. In his joyous mood, which was
his usual mood until the present, he had a large and
pervasive personality that was a wonderful help
to travel and social intercourse. They missed his
timely, if now and then a trifle rough, jests, his vast
knowledge of the mountains, which had some good
story of every town to which they came, and his in
finite zest and humor, which also communicated
more zest and humor to every one with him. It was
a grievous day for them all when "King" Plummer
began to mourn. More than one guessed the cause,
but wisely they refrained from any attempt to re
move it. They could do nothing but endure the
gloom in silence, until the clouds passed, as they
hoped they would pass.
The candidate, too, was troubled, and sought the
privacy of the special car's drawing-room more than
usual. Sylvia Morgan had given him a hint that
attacks upon him from a certain source were likely
to be renewed, and, moreover, would increase in
virulence. He soon found that she was right, as
the copies of the Monitor that they now obtained
were frankly cynical and unbelieving. All of its de
spatches from the West, Churchill's as well as others,
were depreciatory. The candidate was invariably
made to appear in a bad light which is an easy mat-
189
THE CANDIDATE
ter to do, in any case, without sacrifice of the truth
that is, verbally, only the spirit being changed and
the editor reinforced them with strong criticisms, in
which quotations from English writers and a French
phrase now and then were freely employed. The
whole burden of it was, "We support this candidate;
but, oh, how hard it is for us to do it, how badly we
feel about it, and how much easier it would be for
us to support any other man!" It also printed
many contributions from readers, in all of which the
contributors spoke of themselves as belonging by
nature and cultivation to the select few, "the saving
remnant," who really knew what was good for the
country. Here much latitude of expression was al
lowed, as the paper was not directly responsible for
what these gentlemen said. They wrote of the way
in which the dignity of a great party had been de
stroyed by the uncouth and talkative Westerner who
had been lucky enough to secure the nomination.
They felt that they had been shamed in the face of
the world, and more than once asked the burning
and painful question, "What will Europe say?"
They asked, also, if it were yet too late to amend the
error, and they threw forth the suggestion that the
intelligent and cultured minority within the party
might refrain from voting, when election day came,
or, in a pinch, might vote for the other man.
These communications were signed, sometimes,
with Latin names, and sometimes with names in
modern English, but always they indicated a certain
sense of superiority and of detachment from the
crowd on the part of the signers.
The annoyance of the candidate increased as he
read copies of the Monitor, which were sent to him
in numbers. He knew that the paper was the chief
190
THE CANDIDATE
spokesman of an influential minority within the
party, and the divergence between the majority and
the minority was already manifest. It was evident,
too, that it was bound to become greater, and that
was why the candidate was troubled. He wished to
become President; it was his great desire, and he
did not seek to conceal it; he considered it a legiti
mate, a noble ambition, one that any American had
a right to have, and he was in the first flush of his
great powers, when such a position would appeal
most to a strong man. Now, even when the fight,
with a united party, was desperate at best, he fore
saw a defection, and hot wrath rose up in his veins
against Goodnight, the Monitor, and all their fol
lowing.
But the worst of the whole position to a man of
Grayson's open and direct temperament was the ne
cessity to keep silent, even to dissemble, or, at least,
to do that which seemed to him very near to dis
sembling. Although he was under so fierce a fire,
he would not allow any one to find fault with Church
ill for his despatches; and this was not always easy
to do, because many of the local politicians, who were
on the train from time to time, would grow hot at
sight of the criticisms, and want to attack the writer.
But Jimmy Gray son always interfered, and reminded
them that it was the right of the press to speak so if
it wished. Churchill still wondered, why he was not
a martyr, and wasted his regrets. Mrs. Grayson and
Sylvia maintained an eloquent silence.
Meanwhile, an event destined to give Churchill
and the Monitor a yet greater shock was approaching.
XIII
THE THIRD DEGREE
THE candidate and his company were due one
night at Grayville, a brisk Colorado town, dwell
ing snugly in the shadow of high mountains and
hopeful of a brilliant future, based upon the mines
within its limits and the great pastoral country be
yond, as any of its inhabitants, asked or unasked,
would readily have told you. Hence there was joy
in the train, from Jimmy Gray son down, because the
next day was to be Sunday, a period of rest, no
speeches to be made, nothing to write, but just rest,
sleeping, eating, idling, bathing, talking whatever
one chose to do. Only those who have been on
arduous campaigns can appreciate the luxury of such
a day now and then, cutting like a sweep of green
grass across the long and dusty road.
There was also quite a little group of women on the
train, the wives of several Colorado political leaders
having joined Sylvia and Mrs. Gray son for a while,
and they, too, looked forward to a day of rest and
the restoration of their toilets.
"They tell me that Grayville has one of the best
hotels in the mountains," said Barton to Harley, his
brother correspondent. "That you can get a dinner
in a dozen courses, if you want it, and every course
good; that it has real porcelain-lined bath-tubs, and
beds sure to cure the worst case of insomnia on
192
THE CANDIDATE
earth. Do you think this improbable, this ex
travagant but most fascinating tale can be true,
Harley?"
"I live in hope," replied Harley.
"Jimmy Grayson has been here before," inter
rupted Hobart, "and he says it's true, every word
of it; if Jimmy Grayson vouches for a thing, that
settles it ; and here is a copy of the Grayville Argus;
it has to be a pretty good town that can publish as
smart a daily as this."
He handed a neat sheet to Barton, who laughed.
' ' There speaks the great detective , " he said . ' ' You
know, Harley, how Hobart is always arguing from
the effect back to the cause."
Hobart, in fact, was not a political writer, but a
"murder mystery" man, and the best of his kind in
New York, but the regular staff correspondent of his
paper, the Leader, being ill, he had been sent in his
place. He was a Harvard graduate and a gentle
man with a taste for poetry, but he had a peculiar
mind, upon which a murder mystery acted as an ir
ritant he could not rest until he had solved it and
his paper always put him on the great cases, such as
those in which a vast metropolis like New York
abounds. Now he was restless and discontented; the
tour seemed to him the mere reporting of speeches
and obvious incidents that everybody saw ; there was
nothing to unravel, nothing that called for the keen
edge of a fine intellect.
"Grayville, with all its advantages as a place of
rest, is sure to be like the other mountain towns,"
he said, somewhat sourly "the same houses, the
same streets, the same people, I might almost say
the same mountains. There will be nothing unusual,
nothing out of the way."
13 193
THE CANDIDATE
Harley had taken the paper from Barton's hands
and was reading it.
"At any rate, if Grayville is not unusual, it is to
have an unusual time," he interrupted.
"How so?"
"It is to hear Jimmy Grayson speak Monday, and
it is going to hang a man Tuesday. See, the two
events get equal advance space, two columns each,
on the front page."
He handed the paper to Hobart, who looked at it
a little while and then dropped it with an air of in
creasing discontent.
"That may mean something to the natives," he
said; "it may be an indication to them that their
place is becoming important a metropolis in which
things happen but it is nothing to me. This hang
ing case is stale and commonplace ; it is perfectly clear ;
a young fellow named Boyd is to be hanged for kill
ing his partner, another miner; no doubt about his
guilt, plenty of witnesses against him, his own denial
weak and halting in fact, half a confession ; jury out
only five minutes; whole thing as bald and flat as
this plain through which we are running."
He tapped with his finger on the dusty car-window,
and his expression was so gloomy that the others
could not restrain a laugh.
"Cheer up, old man," said Barton. "Four more
hours and we are in Grayville; just think of that
wonderful hotel, with its more wonderful beds and
its yet more wonderful kitchen."
The hotel was all that they either expected or
hoped, and the dawn brought a beautiful Sunday,
disclosing a pretty little frontier city with its green,
irrigated valley on one side and the brown mountains,
like a protecting wall, on the other. Harley slept
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THE CANDIDATE
late, and after breakfast came out upon the veranda
to enjoy the luxury of a rocking-chair, with the soft
October air around him and the majesty of the
mountains before him. He hoped to find Sylvia
there, but neither she nor any of the ladies was pres
ent. Instead, there was a persistent, inquiring spirit
abroad which would not let him rest, and this spirit
belonged to Hobart, the "mystery" man.
Harley had not been enjoying the swinging ease
of the rocking-chair five minutes before Hobart, the
light of interest in his eyes, pounced upon him.
" Harley, old fellow," he exclaimed, " this is the first
place we've struck in which Jimmy Grayson is not
the overwhelming attraction."
"The hanging, I suppose," said Harley, carelessly.
"Of course. What else could there be? It oc
curred to me last night, when I was reading the
paper, that I might scare up a feature or two in the
case, and I was out of my bed early this morning to
try. It was a forlorn hope, I'll admit, but any
thing was better than nothing, and I've had my re
ward. I've had my reward, old fellow!"
He chuckled outright in his glee. Harley smiled.
Hobart always interested and amused him. The
instinctive way in which he unfailingly rose to a
"case" showed his natural genius for that sort of
thing.
"I haven't seen Boyd yet," continued Hobart, ex
citedly, "but I've found out this much already
there are people in Grayville who believe Boyd in
nocent. It is true that he and Wofford the mur
dered man had been quarrelling in Grayville, and
Boyd was taken at the shanty with the blood-stained
knife in his hand; but that doesn't settle it."
Harley could not restrain an incredulous laugh.
195
THE CANDIDATE
" It seems to me those two circumstances, omitting
the other proof, are pretty convincing," he said.
Hobart flushed. "You just wait until I finish,"
he said, somewhat defiantly. "Now Boyd, as I have
learned, was a good-hearted, generous young fellow.
The quarrel amounted to very little, and probably
had been patched up before they reached their shack."
"That is a view which the jury evidently could not
take."
"Juries are often wooden-headed."
"Of course in the eyes of superior people."
"Now don't you try to be satirical it's not your
specialty. I mean to finish the tale. If you read
the paper, you will recall that the shanty where the
murder occurred was only a short distance from the
mountain-road, and there were three witnesses Bill
Metzger, a dissolute cowboy who was passing, and
who, attracted by Wofford's death-cry, ran to the
cabin and found Boyd, blood-stained knife in hand,
bending over the murdered man; Ed Thorpe, a tramp
miner, who heard the same cry and who came up
two or three minutes later; and, finally, Tim Williams,
a town idler, who was on the mountain-side, hunting.
The other two heard him fire his gun a few hundred
yards away, and called to him. When he arrived,
Boyd was still dazed and muttering to himself, as if
overpowered by the horror of his crime."
"If that isn't conclusive, then nothing is," said
Harley, decisively.
"It is not conclusive; there was no real motive for
Boyd to do such a thing."
"To whom did the knife belong?"
"It was a long bread-knife that the two used at
the cabin."
"There you are! Proof on proof I"
196
THE CANDIDATE
"Now, you keep silent, Harley, and come with me,
like a good fellow, and see Boyd in the jail. If you
don't, I swear I'll pester the life out of you for a week."
Harley rose reluctantly, as he knew that Hobart
would keep his word. He believed it the idlest of
errands, but the jail was only a short distance from
them, and the business would not take long. On the
way Hobart talked to him about the three witnesses.
Metzger, the cowboy, on the day of the murder, had
been riding in from a ranch farther down the valley ;
the other two had been about the town until a short
time before the departure of Boyd and Wofford for
their cabin.
They reached the jail, a conspicuous stone build
ing in the centre of the town, and were shown into
the condemned man's cell. The jailer announced
them with the statement:
"Tim, here's two newspaper fellers from the East
wants to see you."
The prisoner was lying on a pallet in the corner of
his cell, and he raised himself on his elbow when
Harley and Hobart entered.
"You are writers for the papers?" he said.
"Yes, clean from New York; they are with Jimmy
Gray son," the jailer answered for them.
" I don't know as I've got anythin' to say to you,"
continued the prisoner. "I 'ain't got no picture to
give you, an' if I had one I wouldn't give it. I don't
want my hangin' to be all wrote up in the papers,
with pictures an' things, too, jest to please the people
in the East. If I've got to die, I'd rather do it quiet
and peaceful, among the boys I know. I ain't no
free circus."
"We did not come to write you up; it was for an
other purpose," Harley hastened to say.
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THE CANDIDATE
He was surprised at the youth of the prisoner, who
obviously was not over twenty-one, a mere boy, with
good features and a look half defiant, half appealing.
"Well, what did you come for, then?" asked the
boy.
Harley was unable to answer this question, and
he looked at Hobart as if to indicate the one who
would reply. The "mystery" man did not seek to
evade his responsibility in the least, and promptly
said:
"Mr. Boyd, I think you will acquit us of any in
tention to intrude upon you. It was the best of
motives that brought us to you. I have always had
an interest in cases of this sort, and when I heard of
yours in the train, coming here, I received an im
pression then which has been strengthened on my
arrival in Grayville. I believe you are innocent."
The boy looked up. A sudden flash of gratitude,
almost of hope, appeared in his eyes.
"I am!" he cried. "God knows I didn't kill Bill
Wofford. He wuz my partner and we wuz like
brothers. We did quarrel that mornin' I don't
deny it and we both had been liquorin' ; but I'd
never hev struck him a blow of any kind, least of
all a foul one."
"Was it not true that you were found with the
bloody knife in your hand, standing over his yet
warm body?" asked Hobart.
"It's so, but it was somebody else that used the
knife. Bill went on ahead, and when I come into
the place I saw him on the floor an' the knife in 'im.
I was struck all a-heap, but I did what anybody else
would 'a' done I pulled the knife out. And then the
fellers come in on me. I was rushed into a trial
right away. Of course, I couldn't tell a straight tale;
198
THE CANDIDATE
the horror of it was still in my brain, and the effect
o' the liquor, too. I got all mixed up but before
God, gen'lemen, I didn't do it."
His tone was strong with sincerity, and his ex
pression was rather that of grief than remorse. Har
ley, who had had a long experience with all kinds of
men in all kinds of situations, did not believe that
he was either bad or guilty. Hobart spoke his
thoughts aloud.
"I don't think you did it," he said.
"Everybody believes I did," said Boyd, with pa
thetic resignation, "and I am to be hanged for it.
So what does it matter now?"
"I am going to look for the guilty man," said
Hobart, decidedly.
Boyd shook his head and lay back on his pallet.
The others, with a few words of hope, withdrew, and,
when they were outside, Harley said:
"Hobart, were you not wrong to sow the seed of
hope in that man's mind when there is no hope?"
"There is hope," replied Hobart; "I have a plan.
Don't ask me anything about it it's vague yet-
but I may work it."
Harley glanced at him, and, seeing that he was in
tense and eager, with his mind concentrated upon
this single problem, resolved to leave him to his own
course; so he spent part of the day, a wonderful
autumn Sunday, in a rocking-chair on the piazza, of
the hotel, and another part walking with Sylvia. He
told her of the murder case and Hobart's action,
and her prompt sympathy was aroused.
"Suppose he should really be innocent?" she said.
"It would be an awful thing to hang an innocent
man."
"So it would. He certainly does not look like a
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THE CANDIDATE
bad fellow, but you know that those who are not
bad are sometimes guilty. In any event I fail to
see what Hobart can do."
After the walk, which was all too brief, he returned
to his rocking-chair on the piazza, but Grayville, being
a small place, he knew everything that was going on
within it, by means of a sort of mental telepathy
that the born correspondent acquires. He knew,
for instance, that Hobart was all the time with one
or the other of the three witnesses Metzger, Thorpe,
or Williams for the moment the most important
persons in Grayville by reason of their conspicuous
connection with the great case.
When Hobart returned, the edge of the sun was
behind the highest mountains ; but he took no notice
of Harley, walking past him without a word and
burying himself somewhere in the interior of the
hotel. Harley learned subsequently that he went
directly to Jimmy Grayson's room, and remained
there at least half an hour, in close conference with
the candidate himself.
The next day was a break in the great campaign.
Owing to train connections, which are not trifles in
the Far West, it was necessary, in order to complete
the schedule, to spend an idle day at some place, and
Grayville had been selected as the most comfortable
and therefore the most suitable. And so the lux
urious rest of the group was continued for twenty-
four hours for all save Hobart.
Harley had never before seen the "mystery" man
so eager and so full of suppressed excitement. He
frequently passed his comrades, but he rarely spoke
to them, or even noticed them; his mind was con
centrated now upon a great affair in which they
would be of no avail. Harley learned, however, that
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THE CANDIDATE
he was still much in the company of the three wit
nesses, although he asked him no questions. Late
in the afternoon he saw him alone and walking rap
idly towards the hotel. It seemed to Harley that
Hobart's head was borne somewhat high and in a
manner exultantly, as if he were overcoming ob
stacles, and he was about to ask him again in regard
to his progress, but Hobart once more sped by with
out a word and went into the hotel. Harley learned
later that he held a secret conference with Jimmy
Grayson.
In the evening everybody went to the opera-
house to hear the candidate, but on the way Hobart
said, casually, to Harley: "Old man, I don't think
I'll sit in front to-night. I wish you would let me
have your notes afterwards." "Of course," replied
Harley, as he passed down the aisle and found his
chair at the correspondents' table on the stage.
There Harley watched the fine Western audience
come into the theatre and find seats, with some noise
but no disorder, a noise merely of men calling each
other by name, and commenting in advance on what
Jimmy Grayson would say. The other correspond
ents entered one by one all except Hobart, and took
their seats on the stage. Sylvia and Mrs. Grayson
were with some ladies in a box. Harley looked
for Hobart, and two or three times he saw him near
the main entrance of the building. Once he was
talking with a brown and longish-haired youth, and
Harley, by casual inquiry, learned that it was Metz-
ger, the cowboy. A man not greatly different in ap
pearance, to whom Hobart spoke occasionally, was
Thorpe, the tramp miner, and yet another, a tall
fellow with a bulging underlip, Harley learned, was
Williams, the third witness.
SOI
THE CANDIDATE
Evidently the witnesses would attend Jimmy Gray-
son's meeting, which was natural, however, as every
body in Grayville was sure to come, and Harley
also surmised that Hobart had taken upon himself
the task of instructing them as to the methods,
the manner, and the greatness of the candidate. He
had done such a thing himself, upon occasion, the
Western interest in Jimmy Grayson being so great
that often appeals were made to the correspondents
for information about him more detailed than the
newspapers gave.
Harley studied the faces of the three witnesses as
attentively as the distance and the light would ad
mit, but they remained near the door, evidently in
tending to stand there, back to the wall, a plan
sometimes adopted by those who may wish to slip
out quietly before a speech is finished. Harley, the
trained observer, saw that Hobart, without their
knowledge, was shepherding them as the shepherd
gently makes his sheep converge upon a common
spot.
The correspondent could draw no inference from
the faces of the three men, which were all of usual
Western types, without anything special to distin
guish them, and his attention turned to the au
dience. He had received an intimation that Jimmy
Grayson intended to deliver that evening a speech of
unusual edge and weight. He would indict the other
party in the most direct and forcible manner, point
ing out that its sins were moral as well as political,
but that a day of reckoning would come, when those
who profited by such evil courses must pay the for
feit; it was a part of the law of nature, which was
also the law of retribution.
The candidate was a little late, and the opera-
202
THE CANDIDATE
house was filled to the last seat, with many people
standing in the aisles and about the doors. Harley,
glancing again at the rows and rows of faces, saw
the three witnesses almost together, and just to the
right of the main entrance, where they leaned against
the wall, facing the stage. Hobart fluttered about
them, holding them in occasional talk, and Harley
was just about to look again, and with increasing
attention, but at that instant the great audience,
with a common impulse and a kind of rushing sound,
like the slide of an avalanche, rose to its feet. The
candidate, coming from the wings, had just appeared
upon the stage, and the welcome was spontaneous
and overwhelming. Jimmy Grayson was always a
serious man, but Harley noticed that evening, when
he first appeared before the footlights, that his face
looked tense and eager, as if he felt that a great task
which he must assume lay just before him.
He wasted no time, but went at once to the heart
of his subject, the crime of a great party, the wicked
ways by which it had attained its wicked ends, and
from the opening sentence he had his big audience
with him, heart and soul.
The indictment was terrible : in a masterly way he
summed up the charges and the proof, as a general
marshals his forces for battle, and the crowd, so
clear were his words and so strong his statements,
could see them all marching in unison, like the bat
talions and brigades, towards the common point, the
exposed centre of the enemy. The faces of Sylvia
and Mrs. Grayson, in the box, glowed with pride.
Again and again, at the pauses between sentences,
the cheers of the audience rose and echoed, and then
Harley would glance once more towards the door;
there, always, he saw Hobart with the three wit-
203
THE CANDIDATE
nesses, gathered under his wing, at it were, all look
ing raptly and intently at Jimmy Grayson.
The candidate, by-and-by, seemed to concentrate
his attention upon the four men at the door, and
spoke directly to them. Harley saw one of the
group move as if about to leave, but the hand of
Hobart fell upon his arm and he stayed. Harley,
too, was conscious presently of an unusual effect
having the quality of weirdness. The lights seemed
to go down in the whole opera-house, except near
the door. Jimmy Grayson and the correspondents
were in a semi-darkness, but Hobart and his three
new friends beside the door stood in a light that was
almost dazzling through contrast. The three wit
nesses now seemed to be fixed in that spot, and their
eyes never wandered from Jimmy Grayson's face.
Familiar as he was with the candidate's oratorical
powers, Harley was surprised at his strength of in
vective that evening. He had proved the guilt, the
overwhelming guilt, of the opposition party, and he
was describing the punishment, a punishment sure to
come, although many might deem it impossible:
"But there would be a day of judgment; justice
might sleep for a while, but she must awake at last,
and, the longer vengeance was delayed, the more ter
rible it became. Then woe to the guilty."
The audience was deeply impressed by the elo
quence of Jimmy Grayson, coinciding so well with
their own views. Harley saw a look of awe appear
upon the faces of many Sylvia's face was pale
and the house, save for the voice of Jimmy Grayson,
was as still as death. Harley felt the effect himself,
and the weird, unreal quality that he observed be
fore increased. Once, when he went over to make
some notes, he noticed that the words written a half-
204
THE CANDIDATE
hour before were scarcely visible, but, when he glanced
at the opposite end of the theatre, there stood Hobart
and the three witnesses, gathered about him, in the
very heart of a dazzling light that showed every
changing look on the faces of the four. Harley's gaze
lingered upon them, and again he tried to find some
thing peculiar, something distinctive in at least one of
the three witnesses, but, as before, he failed ; they were
to him just ordinary Westerners following with rapt
attention every word and gesture of Jimmy Grayson.
The candidate went on with his story of the con
sequences ; the crime had been committed ; the profits
had been reaped and enjoyed, but slumbering jus
tice, awake at last, was at hand; it was time for the
wicked to tremble, the price must be repaid, doubly,
trebly, fivefold. Now he personified the guilty
party, the opposition, which he treated as an individ
ual; he compared it to a man who had committed a
deed of horror, but who long had hidden his crime
from the world; others might be suspected of it,
others might be punished for it, but he could never
forget that he himself was guilty; though he walked
before the world innocent, the sense of it would al
ways be there, it would not leave him night or day;
every moment, even, before the full exposure it would
be inflicting its punishment upon him; it would be
useless to seek escape or to think of it, because the
longer the guilty victim struggled the more crushing
his punishment would be. The correspondents for
got to write, and, like the audience, hung upon every
word and gesture of Jimmy Grayson, as he made his
great denunciatory speech; they felt that he was
stirred by something unusual, that some great and
extraordinary motive was impelling him, and they
followed eagerly where he led them.
205
THE CANDIDATE
Harley saw the look of awe on the faces of the
audience grow and deepen. With their overwhelm
ing admiration of Jimmy Gray son, they seemed to
have conceived, too, a sudden fear of him. His long,
accusing finger was shaken in their faces, he was not
alone denouncing a guilty man, but he was seeking
out their own hidden sins, and presently he would
point at them his revealing finger.
Hobart stood with the three witnesses beside the
door, still in the dazzling light. Harley was sure that
not one of the four had moved in the last half-hour,
and Jimmy Gray son still held them all with his gaze.
Harley suddenly saw something like a flash of light,
a signal glance, as it were, pass between him and
Hobart, and the next instant the voice of the candi
date swelled into greater and more accusing volume.
"Now you behold the guilty man!" said Jimmy
Grayson. " I have shown him to you. He seems to
the world full of pride and power, but he knows that
justice is pursuing him, and that it will overtake him ;
he trembles, he cowers, he flees, but the avenging
footsteps are behind him, and the sound of them
rings in his frightened ears like a death-knell to his
soul. A wall rises across his way. He can flee no
farther; he turns back from the wall, raises his terror-
stricken eyes, and there before him the hand of fate
is raised ; its finger points at him, and a terrible voice
proclaims, 'Thou art the guilty man!" 1
The form of Jimmy Grayson swelled and towered,
his hand was raised, the long forefinger pointed direct
ly at the four who stood in the dazzling light, and the
hall resounded with the tremendous echoes of his cry,
"Thou art the guilty man!"
As if lifted by a common impulse, the great au
dience rose with an indescribable sound and faced
206
THE CANDIDATE
about, following Jimmy Grayson's long, accusing
finger.
The man Williams threw his arm before his face,
as if to protect himself, and, with a terrible cry,
"Yes, I did it!" fell in a faint on the floor.
They were all on the train the next day, and Har-
ley was reading from a copy of the Grayville Argus
an account of Boyd's release and the ovation that
the people had given him.
"How did you trace the crime to Williams, Ho-
bart?" asked Harley.
"I didn't trace it; it was Jimmy Gray son who
brought it out by giving him 'the third degree,'"
replied Hobart, though there was a quiet tone of
satisfied pride in his voice. "You know that in New
York, when they expose a man at Police Headquar
ters to some such supreme test, they call it giving
him 'the third degree,' and that's what we did here.
It seems that Williams was in the saloon when Boyd
and his partner quarrelled, and he knew they had a
lot of gold from the claim in their cabin. His object
was robbery. When he saw Wofford go on ahead,
he followed him quickly to the cabin, and killed him
with the knife which lay on a table. He expected to
have time to get the gold before Boyd came, but
Boyd arrived so soon that he was barely able to slip
out. Then Williams, cunning and bold enough,
came back as if he were a chance passer-by, and had
been called by Metzger and Thorpe. The other two
were as innocent as you or I.
"I could not make up my mind which of the three
was guilty, and I induced Jimmy Gray son to help me.
It was right in line with his speech no harm done
even if the test had failed and then the man who
207
THE CANDIDATE
managed the lights at the opera-house, a friend of
Boyd's, helped me with the stage effects. Jimmy
Grayson, of course, knew nothing about that. I
borrowed the idea. I have read somewhere that
Aaron Burr by just such a device once convicted a
guilty man who was present in court as a witness
when another was being tried for the crime."
"Well, you have saved his life to an innocent man,"
said Harley.
"And I have cost a guilty one his." And then,
after a moment's pause, Hobart added, with a little
shiver:
"But I wouldn't go through such an ordeal again
at any price. When Jimmy Grayson thundered out,
'Thou art the guilty man,' it was all I could do to
keep from crying, 'Yes, I am, I ami'"
XIV
THE DEAD CITY
A 5 they left the hall, Churchill overtook Harley
and tapped him on the shoulder. Harley turn
ed and saw an expression of supreme disgust on the
face of the Monitor's correspondent, but Harley him
self only felt amusement. He knew that Churchill
meant attack.
"I never saw anything more theatrical and ill-
timed," said Churchill. "Of course, it was all pre
arranged in some manner. But the idea of a Presi
dential nominee taking such a risk!"
"He has saved an innocent man's life, and I call
that no small achievement."
"Because the trick was successful; but it was a
trick, all the same, and it was beneath the dignity of
a Presidential nominee."
"There was but little risk of any kind," said Har
ley, shortly, "and even had it been larger, it would
have been right to take it, when the stake was a
man's life. Churchill, you are hunting for faults,
you know you are, or you would not be so quick to
see them."
Churchill made no audible reply, but Harley could
see that he was unconvinced, and, in fact, he sent
his newspaper a lurid despatch about it, taking
events out of their proper proportion, and hence giv
ing to them a wholly unjustifiable conclusion. But
14 209
THE CANDIDATE
Sylvia Morgan was devotedly loyal to her uncle.
There were few deeds of his of which she approved
more warmly than this of saving Boyd's life, and
Hobart, the master spirit in it, she thanked in a way
that made him turn red with pleasure. But the
discussion of the whole affair was brief, because fast
upon its heels trod another event which stirred them
yet more deeply.
When the special train was at Blue Earth, in
Montana, among the high mountains, there came to
Jimmy Grayson an appeal, compounded of pathos
and despair, that he could not resist. It was from
the citizens of Crow's Wing, forty miles deeper into
the yet higher and steeper mountains, and they re
counted, in mournful words, how no candidate ever
came to see them; all passed them by as either too
few or too difficult, and they had never yet listened
to the spell of oratory; of course, they did not ex
pect the nominee of a great party for the Presidency
of the United States to make the hard trip and speak
to them, when even the little fellows ignored their
existence; nevertheless, they wished to inform him
in writing that they were alive, and on the map, at
least, they made as big a dot as either Helena or Butte.
The candidate smiled when he read the letter.
The tone of it moved him. Moreover, he was not
deficient in policy no man who rises is and while
Crow's Wing had but few votes, Montana was close,
and a single state might -decide the Union.
"Those people at Crow's Wing do not expect me,
but I shall go to them," he said to his train.
"Why, it's a full day's journey and more, over
the roughest and rockiest road in America," said
Mr. Curtis, the state senator from Wyoming, who
was still with them.
2IO
THE CANDIDATE
"I shall go," said Jimmy Grayson, decisively.
"There is a break here in our schedule, and this trip
will fit in very nicely."
The others were against it, but they said nothing
more in opposition, knowing that it would be of
no avail. Obliging, generous, and soft-hearted, the
candidate, nevertheless, had a temper of steel when
his mind was made up, and the others had learned
not to oppose it. But all shunned the journey with
him to Crow's Wing except Harley, Mr. Plummer,
Mr. Herbert Heathcote because there is no zeal like
that of the converted and one other.
That "other" was Sylvia, and she insisted upon
going, refusing to listen to all the good arguments
that were brought against it. "I know that I am
only a woman a girl," she said, "but I know, too,
that I've lived all my life in the mountains, and I
understand them. Why, I've been on harder jour
neys than this with daddy before I was twelve years
old. Haven't I, daddy?" As she had predicted, she
forgot his request not to call him "daddy."
Thus appealed to, Mr. Plummer was fain to con
fess the truth, though with reluctance. However,
he said, rather weakly:
"But you don't know what kind of weather we'll
have, Sylvia."
Then she turned upon him in a manner that ter
rified him.
"Now, daddy, if I couldn't get up a better argu
ment than that I'd quit," she said. "Weather!
weather! weather! to an Idaho girl! Suppose it
should rain, I'm made of neither sugar nor salt, and
I won't melt. I've been rained on a thousand times.
Aunt Anna says I may go if Uncle James is willing,
and he's willing he has to be; besides, he's my
211
THE CANDIDATE
chaperon. If you don't say 'yes,' Uncle James, I
shall take the train and go straight home."
They were forced to consent, and Harley was glad
that she insisted, because he liked to know that she
was near, and he thought that she looked wonder
fully well on horseback.
The going of Harley with the candidate was taken
as a matter of course by everybody. Silent, tactful,
and strong, he had grown almost imperceptibly into
a confidential relationship with the nominee, and
Mr. Grayson did not realize how much he relied upon
the quiet man who could not make a speech but
who was so ready of resource. As for Mr. Heath cote,
being an Easterner, he wished to see the West in all
its aspects.
They started at daybreak, guided by a taciturn
mountaineer, Jim Jones, called simply Jim for the
sake of brevity, and, the hour being so early, few
were present to see them ride up the hanging slope
and into the mighty wilderness.
But it was a glorious dawn. The young sun was
gilding the sea of crags and crests with burnished gold
and the air had the sparkle of youth. Mr. Heath-
cote threw back his slightly narrow chest, and, draw
ing three deep breaths of just the same length, he
said, " I would not miss this trip for a thousand dollars!"
"And I wouldn't for two thousand!" exclaimed
Sylvia, joyously.
Harley said nothing, but he, too, looked out upon
the morning world with a kindling eye. Far below
them was a narrow valley, a faint green line down
the centre showing where the little river ran, with the
irrigated farms on either side, like beads on a string.
Above them towered the peaks, white with everlast
ing snow.
THE CANDIDATE
"A fine day for our ride," said the candidate to
Jim.
"Looks like it now, though I never gamble on
mountain weather," replied the taciturn man.
But the promise held good for a long time, the
sun still shining and the winds coming fresh and
brisk along the crests and ridges. The trail wound
about the slopes and steadily ascended. Vegetation
ceased, and before them stretched the bare rocks.
Harley knew very well now that only the sunshine
saved them from grimness and desolation. The
loneliness became oppressive. Even Sylvia was
silent. It was the wilderness in reality as well as
seeming; nowhere did they see a miner's hut or
a hunter's cabin, only nature in her most savage
form.
The little group of horsemen forgot to talk. The
candidate's head was bowed and his brow bent.
Clearly he was immersed in thought. Mr. Heath-
cote, unused to such arduous journeys, leaned for
ward in his saddle in a state of semi-exhaustion.
But Sylvia, although a girl, was accustomed to the
mountains, and she showed few signs of fatigue. Har
ley said at last to the guide, "A wild country, one
of the wildest, I think, that I ever saw."
"Yes, a wild country, and a bad 'un, too," re
sponded Jim. "See off there to the left?"
He pointed to a maze of bare and rocky ridges,
and when he saw that Harley 's gaze was following
his long forefinger, he continued:
"I say it's a bad 'un, because over there Red Per
kins and his gang of horse-thieves, outlaws, and cut
throats used to have their hiding-place. It's a tan
gled - up stretch o' mountain, so wild, so rocky, so
full of caves that they could have hid there till
THE CANDIDATE
jedgment-day from all Montana. Yes, that's where
they used to hang out."
"Used to?"
"Yes, 'cause I 'ain't heard much uv them fur some
time. They came down in the valley and tried to
stampede them new blooded horses from Kentucky
on Sifton's ranch, but Sifton and his men was waitin',
and when the smoke cleared off most uv the gang
was wiped out. Red and two or three uv his fellers
got away, but I 'ain't heard uv 'em since. Guess
they've scattered."
"Wisest thing they could do," said Harley.
The guide made no answer, and they plodded on
in silence until about two o'clock in the afternoon,
when they stopped in a little cove to eat luncheon
and refresh their horses.
It was the first grateful spot they had seen in
hours. A brook fed by the snows above formed a
pool in the hollow, and then, overflowing it, dropped
down the mountain - wall. But in this sheltered
nook and around the life-giving water green grass
was growing, and there was a rim of goodly trees.
The horses, when their riders dismounted, grazed
eagerly, and the riders themselves lay upon the grass
and ate with deep content.
Sylvia talked little. She seemed thoughtful, and,
when neither of them was looking, she glanced now
and then at Harley and "King" Plummer. Had
they noticed they would have seen a shade of sad
ness on her face. Mr. Plummer did not speak, and
it was because there was a growing anxiety in his
mind. He was sorry now that they had let Sylvia
come, and he silently called himself a weak fool.
"Shall we reach Crow's Wing by dark?" asked the
candidate of the guide.
214
THE CANDIDATE
Jim had risen, and, standing at the edge of the
cove, was gazing out over the rolling sea of moun
tains. Harley noticed a troubled look on his face.
"If things go right we kin," he replied, "but I
ain't shore that things will go right."
"What do you mean?"
"Do you see that brown spot down there in the
southwest, just a-top the hills? Waal, it's a cloud,
an' it's comin' this way. Clouds, you know, always
hev somethin' in 'em."
"That is to say we shall have rain," said the can
didate. "Let it come. We have been rained on
too often to mind such a little thing eh, Sylvia?
You see, I take you at your word."
The girl nodded.
" I don't think it '11 be rain," said the guide. "We
are so high up here that more 'n likely it '11 be snow.
An' when there's a snow-storm in the mountains you
can't go climbin" along the side o' cliffs."
The others, too, looked grave now. Perhaps, with
the exception of "King" Plummer, they had not
foreseen such a difficulty, but the guide came to their
relief with more cheering words after all, the cloud
might not continue to grow, "an' it ain't worth while
to holler afore we're hit."
This seemed sound philosophy to the others, and,
dismissing their cares, they started again, much re
freshed by their stop in the little cove. The road
now grew rougher, the guide leading and the rest fol
lowing in single - file, Sylvia just ahead of Harley.
By -and -by their cares returned. Harley glanced
towards the southwest and saw there the same cloud,
but now much bigger, blacker, and more threaten
ing. The sunshine was gone, and the wrinkled sur
face of the mountains was gray and sombre. The
215
THE CANDIDATE
air had grown cold, and down among the clefts there
was a weird, moaning wind. Harley glanced at the
guide, and noticed that his face was now decidedly
anxious. But the correspondent said nothing. Part
of his strength lay in his ability to wait, and he knew
that the guide would speak in good time.
" Don't any of you be discouraged because of me,"
said Sylvia; "I'm not afraid of storms even snow
storms. Am I not a good mountaineer, daddy?"
The "King" nodded his head. He knew that she
was a better mountaineer than any in the party ex
cept the guide and himself, and he felt less alarm for
her than was in the mind of Gray son or Harley.
But Harley was thrilled by her courage. Here,
amid these wild mountains, with the threat of dark
ness and the storm, she was unafraid and still fem
inine. "This is a woman to be won," was his un-
uttered thought.
Another hour passed, and the air grew darker and
colder. Then Jim stopped.
"Gentlemen," he said, "there's a snow-storm corn-
in* soon. I didn't expect one so early, even on the
mountains, but it's comin', anyhow, an' if we keep
on for Crow's Wing they'll have to dig our bones out
o' the meltin* drifts next summer. We've got to
make for Queen City."
"Queen City!" exclaimed Mr. Heathcote. "I
didn't know there was another town anywhere near
here."
"She's a-standin' all the same," replied the guide,
brusquely, "an' I wouldn't never hev started on the
trip to Crow's Wing if there hadn't been such a stop-
pin'-place betwixt an' between, in case o' trouble
with the weather. An' let me whisper to you, Queen
City's quite a sizable place. We'll pass the night
216
THE CANDIDATE
there. It's got a fine hotel, the finest an' biggest in
the mountains."
He looked grimly at Mr. Heathcote, as much as to
say, "Ask me as much more as you please, but I'll
answer you nothing." Then he added, glancing at
Sylvia:
"It's a wild night for a gal."
"But you said that the biggest and finest hotel in
the mountains was waiting for me," replied Sylvia,
with spirit.
The guide bowed his head admiringly, and said
no more.
Something cold and damp touched Harley's cheek.
He looked up, and another flake of snow, descending
softly, settled upon his face. The clouds rolled over
them, heavy and dark, and shut out all the moun
tains save a little island where they stood. The
snow, following the first few flakes, fell softly but
rapidly.
"It's Queen City or moulderin' in the drifts till
next summer!" cried Jim, and he turned his horse
into a side-path. The others followed without a
word, willing to accept his guidance through the
greatest peril they had yet faced in an arduous cam
paign. Despite the danger, which he knew to be
heavy and pressing, and his anxiety for Sylvia, Har
ley's curiosity was aroused, and he wished to ask
more of Queen City, but the saturnine face of the
guide was not inviting. Nevertheless, he risked one
question.
"How far is this place, Queen City?" he asked.
"'Bout two miles," replied Jim, with what seemed
to Harley a derisive grin, "an' it's tarnal lucky for
us that it's so near."
Harley said no more, but he was satisfied with
217
THE CANDIDATE
nothing in the guide's reply save the fact that the
town was only two miles away; any shelter would be
welcome, because he saw now that a snow-storm on
the wild mountains was a terrible thing.
The guide led on; Jimmy Grayson, with bent head,
followed; Mr. Heathcote, shrunk in his saddle, came
next; then "King" Plummer; and after him Sylvia
and Harley, who were as nearly side by side as the
narrow path would permit.
"It won't be far, Miss Morgan," said Harley; the
others could not hear.
She felt rather than heard the note of apprehension
in his voice, and she knew it was for her. A thrill of
singular sweetness passed over her. It was pleasant
for some one, the one, to be afraid for her sake. She
looked out at the driving snow and the dim peaks,
but she had no fear for herself. She was glad, too,
that she had come.
"I know the way of the mountains," she replied.
"The guide will take us in safety to this city of his,
of which he speaks so highly."
Harley saw her smile through the snow. The
others rode on before, heads bowed, and did not
look back. He and she felt a powerful sense of
comradeship, and once, when he leaned over to de
tach her bridle rein from the horse's mane, he touch
ed her hand, which was so soft and warm. Again
the electric thrill passed through them both, and
they looked into each other's eyes.
Now and then the vast veil of snow parted before
the wind, as if cleft down the centre by a sword-
blade, and Harley and Sylvia beheld a grand and
awful sight. Before them were all the peaks and
ridges, rising in white cones and pillars against the
cloudy sky, and the effect was of distance and sub-
218
THE CANDIDATE
limity. From the clefts and ravines came a deso
late moaning. Harley felt that he was much nearer
to the eternal here than he could ever be in the
plains. Then the rent veil would close again, and
he saw only his comrades and the rocks twenty feet
away.
They turned around the base of a cliff rising hun
dreds of feet above them, and Harley caught the dull-
red glare of brick walls, showing through the falling
snow. He was ready to raise a shout of joy. This
he knew was Queen City, lying snugly in its wide
valley. There was the typical, single mountain
street, with its row of buildings on either side; the
big one near-by was certainly the hotel, and the
other big one farther on was as certainly the opera-
house. But nobody was in the streets, and the
whole place was dark ; not a light appeared at a single
window, although the night had come.
"We're here," Harley said to Sylvia, "but I con
fess that this does not look promising. Certainly
there is nobody running to meet us."
She was gazing with curiosity.
"It's like no other town that I ever saw," she said.
Harley rode up by the side of the guide.
"The place looks lonesome," he said.
"Maybe they've all gone to bed; there ain't any-
thin' here to keep 'em awake," replied the guide,
with the old puzzling and derisive smile.
Harley turned coldly away. He did not like to
have any one make fun of him. and that he saw clearly
was the guide's intention. Jimmy Grayson was still
thinking of things far off, and Mr. Heathcote, chilled
and shrunk, seemed to have lost the power of speech.
"King" Plummer, for reasons of his own, was silent
too.
219
THE CANDIDATE
The guide rode slowly towards the large brick
building that Harley took to be the hotel, and, at
that moment, the snow slackened for a little while;
the last rays of the setting sun struck upon the dun
walls and gilded them with red tracery ; some panes
of glass gave back the ruddy glare, but mostly the
windows were bare and empty, like eyeless sockets.
Harley looked farther, and all the other buildings
the opera-house, the stores, and the residences
were the same, desolate and decaying. About the
place were snow-covered heaps, evidently the refuse
of mining operations, but they saw no human being.
The effect upon all save the guide was startling.
Harley saw the look of chilled wonder grow on Jim
my Grayson's face. Mr. Heathcote raised himself in
his saddle and stared, uncomprehending. Harley
had been deep in the desert, but never before had
he seen such desolation and ruin, because here was
the body, but all life had gone from it. He felt as
one alone with ghosts. Sylvia was silent, her con
fidence gone for the moment. The guide laughed
dryly.
" You guessed it," he said, looking at Harley. " It's
a dead city. Queen City has been as dead as Adam
these half-dozen years. When the mines played out,
it died ; there was no earthly use for Queen City any
longer, and by - and - by everybody went away. But
I've seen the old town when it was alive. Five
thousand people here. Money a-flowin', drinks pass-
in' over the counter one way and the coin the other,
the gamblin'-houses an' the theatre chock-full, an'
women, any kind you please. . But there ain't a soul
left now."
The snow thinned still more, and the buildings
rose before them gaunt and grim.
220
THE CANDIDATE
"We'll stop to-night at the Grand Hotel that is,
if they ain't too much crowded ; it '11 be nice for the
lady," said the guide, who had had his little joke
and who now wished to serve his employers as best
he could; "but first we'll take the horses into the
dinin'-room; nobody will object; I've done it afore."
He rode towards a side -door, but over the main
entrance Harley saw in tessellated letters the words
"Grand Hotel," and he tried to shake off the feeling
of weirdness that it gave him.
The door to the dining-room, which was almost
level with the ground, was gone, and with some driv
ing the horses were persuaded to enter. They were
tethered there, sheltered from the storm, and, when
they moved, their feet rumbled hollowly on the wood
en floor. Sylvia, the candidate, and his friends,
driven by the same impulse, turned back into the
snow and re-entered the house by the front door.
They passed into a wide hall, and at the far end
they saw the clerk's desk. Lying upon it were some
fragments of paper fastened to a chain, and Harley
knew that it was what was left of the hotel register.
It spoke so vividly of both life and death that the
five stopped.
"Would you like to register, Mr. Grayson?" asked
Harley, wishing to relieve the tension.
The candidate laughed mirthlessly.
"Not to-night, Harley," he said; "but, gloomy as
the place is, we ought to be thankful that we have
found it. See how the storm is rising."
He glanced at Sylvia, and deep gratitude swelled
up in his breast. Grewsome as it might look, Queen
City was now, indeed, a place of refuge. But he had
no word of reproach for her, because she had insisted
upon coming. He knew that a snow-storm had not
221
THE CANDIDATE
entered into her calculations, as it had not entered
into his, and, moreover, no one in the party had
shown more courage or better spirits.
The snow drove in at the unsheltered windows,
and a long whine arose as the wind whirled around
the old house. The guide came in with cheerful
bustle and stamp of feet.
"Don't linger here, gentlemen and ladies," he said.
"The house is yours. Come into the parlor. We've
had a piece of luck. Now and then a lone tramp or
a miner seeks shelter in this town, just as we have
done; they come mostly to the hotel, and some feller
who gathered up wood failed to burn it all. I'll
have a fire in the parlor in five minutes, and then we
can ring for hot drinks for the men, a lemonade for
the lady, and a warm dinner for all. I'll take straight
whiskey, an' after that I ain't partic'ler whether I
get patty-de-foy-graw or hummin'-bird tongues."
His good-humor was infectious, and they were
thankful, too, for the shelter, desolate though the
place was. All the wood had been stripped away
except the floors, and the brick walls were bare. In
the great parlor they had nothing to sit on save their
saddles, but it was a noble apartment, many feet
square, built for a time when there was life in Queen
City.
"I've heard the Governor of Montana speak to
more than two hundred people in this very room,"
said Jim, reminiscently. "He was to have spoke in
the public square, but snow come up, an' Bill Fos-
dick, who run the hotel, and run her wide open, in
vited 'em all right in here, an' they come."
Harley could well believe it, knowing, as he did,
the miners and the mountains, and, by report, early
Montana.
222
THE CANDIDATE
At one end of the room was an immense grate, and
in this Jim heaped the wood so generously left by
the unknown tramp or miner, igniting it with a ready
match. The ruddy blaze leaped upward and threw
generous shadows on the floor. The travellers, sitting
close to it, felt the grateful warmth and were content.
All the saddle blankets also had been brought in
and piled on one of the saddles. On these Sylvia sat
and spread out her hands to the ruddy blaze. To
Harley, with the flame of the firelight on her face
and the glow of the coals throwing patches of red
and gold on her hair, she seemed some brilliant spirit
come to light up the gloomy place. Here all was
warmth and brightness; outside, the storm moaned
through the mountains and the darkness.
"Do you know, I enjoy this," she said, as she
looked into the crackling fire.
"So Queen City ain't so bad, ma'am?" said the
guide, with dry satisfaction.
" Not bad at all, but very good," she replied, gayly.
"Don't you think so, Mr. Harley?"
"I certainly agree with you," replied Harley, de
voutly, "but I'm glad that Queen City is just where
it is."
She laughed.
"Daddy has been many a time in the mountains
without his Queen City haven't you, daddy?"
"Often," said "King" Plummer, looking at her
with a pleased smile. But he wished that she would
not call him "daddy," at least before Harley; it
seemed that she could never remember his request;
but she had warned him.
"An old hand travellin' in the mountains always
purvides for a snowy day," said the guide, and he
took from his saddle-bags much food and a large bottle.
223
THE CANDIDATE
They drank a little, all except Sylvia, and ate
heartily. The last touch of cold departed, and the
fire still sparkled with good cheer, casting its com
forting shadows across the stained floor.
"I've brought in the horse -blankets," said the
guide, "an' with them under us, our overcoats over
us, an' the fire afore us, we ought to sleep here as
snug an' warm as a beaver in its house."
Sylvia was accustomed to camping in the moun
tains, and made no fuss, but quietly leaned back
against the saddle and the wall, and drew her heavy
cloak around her. She was soon half asleep, and
the flames, moving off into the distance, seemed to
be dancing about in a queer, light-minded fashion.
Harley walked to the window and looked out.
The night was black, save for the driving snow, and
when he glanced back at the room it seemed a very
haven of delight. But the strangeness of their sit
uation, the weird effect of the dead city, with the
ghost-like shapes of its houses showing through the
snow, was upon his nerves, and he did not feel sleepy.
Muttering some excuse to the others, he went into
the hall. It was dark, and a gust of cold air from
the open window at the end struck him in the face.
At the same moment Harley saw what he took to
be a light farther down the hall, but when he looked
again it was gone.
It might be a delusion, but the matter troubled
him; if a lone tramp or miner were in the building,
he wished to know. Any stranger would have a
right in the hotel, but there was comradeship and
welcome in Jimmy Grayson's party.
Harley's instinct said that all was not right, and,
taking off his boots, he crept down the hall and
among the cross - halls with noiseless feet. He did
224
THE CANDIDATE
not see the light again, but he heard in another room
the hum of voices, softened so that they might not
reach any one save those for whom they were in
tended. But they reached Harley, crouching just be
hind the edge of the door, and, hearing, he shuddered.
A great danger threatened the nominee for the Presi
dency of the United States. Such a thing as the
present had never before happened in the history of
the country.
And that same danger, but in a worse form, per
haps, threatened Sylvia. It was not Harley's fault
that a girl had then a greater place than a Presi
dential nominee in his mind. He shuddered, and
then closed his lips firmly in resolve.
The door was still on its hinges, and it was still
slightly ajar. Harley, peeping through the crack,
saw the eight occupants of the room by the faint
light from the window, and because the man who
did the talking, and who showed himself so evidently
the leader, had red hair, he knew him instinctively.
It was Red Perkins and the remnant of his gang, not
scattered to the winds of the West, as Jim and every
body else thought, but here in Montana, in their old
haunts. And Harley, listening to their talk, meas
ured the extent of their knowledge, which was far
too much; they knew who Jimmy Gray son was,
they had known of his departure from Blue Earth,
and they had followed him here ; presently they would
take him away, and the whole world would be thrill
ed. No such prize had ever fallen into the hands of
robbers in America, and it would be worth a million
to them.
Harley was in a chill as he listened, because he
heard them speak next of Sylvia, and one of them
laughed in a way that made the correspondent want
is 225
THE CANDIDATE
to spring at his throat. Sylvia and the candidate
must be saved.
But Harley, thinking his hardest, could not think
how. There were eight men well armed in the room
before him; the guide and Mr. Plummer, probably,
had pistols, but he had none, and he was sure that
Jimmy Grayson and Mr. Heathcote were without
them. He paused there a long time, undecided, and
at last he crept down the hall again and towards the
great parlor. Then he put on his boots, re-entered
the room, and spoke in a low voice to his comrades.
The guide's fighting blood was on fire at once.
"I've a revolver," he said; "we kin barricade the
room and hold 'em off. There are two windows
here, opening out on the snow, but they are so high
they can hardly reach 'em with their hands. We
kin make a good fight of it."
"I've a pistol, too," said Mr. Plummer, "and we
must make it a fight to the death."
He spoke quietly, but with determination and a
full knowledge of all the danger that threatened.
He glanced at Sylvia, who, coming back from her
half-dream, had risen to her feet. Then he walked
to the door, because the "King" was ever alert in
the face of danger.
"What is it?" Sylvia asked of Harley. She knew
by their manner that something strange and ter
rifying had happened, and in such a situation it was
now an involuntary act with her to turn to Harley.
" Sylvia," he said the others had followed " King"
Plummer to the door "you ought to know."
He noticed that, though pale, she was quiet and
firm.
"If it is danger, I have faced it before," she said,
proudly.
226
THE CANDIDATE
"As you will face it now, like the bravest woman
in the West. 'Red' Perkins's gang of outlaws are
out there, and they mean to take Mr. Grayson to
hold for ransom, and you "
Her eyes looked straight into his, and suddenly
they shone with all the fulness of love and con
fidence.
"They will not take me while you are here," she
said.
"Not if we have to die together. Sylvia, I be
lieved that your heart was mine, and in this mo
ment of danger I know it."
He spoke truly. In the crisis their souls were
bare to each other. He seized her hands, and the
brilliant color flamed into her cheeks.
"Sylvia!" he exclaimed, in a thrilling whisper.
" Hush!" she said. "The others are about to come
back."
She gently withdrew her hands from his, and when
"King" Plummer turned away from the door he
saw nothing.
"There's not a shot to be fired," said Jimmy Gray-
son, "because I've a better plan. How long do you
think it will be before they come for me, Harley?"
"About fifteen minutes, I should say; at least that
is what I gathered from their talk."
"And they have not examined the building or the
town?"
"No; they merely came down the trail behind us
and slipped into that room, waiting their chance."
"Very good. Jim, you told me a while ago that
the Governor of Montana once spoke to two hun
dred people in this room; it was a fortunate remark
of yours, because I shall speak to as many people
to-night in this same room. Shut the door there,
227
THE CANDIDATE
put the saddles before it, and then build the fire as
high as possible."
The candidate's voice was sharp, decisive, and
full of command. The born leader of men was as
serting himself, and the guide, without pausing to
reason, hastened to obey. He shut the door, put
the saddles before it, and heaped upon the fire all
the remaining wood except a stump reserved by
Jimmy Grayson's express command. The fire leap
ed higher, and the room was brilliantly lighted.
Jimmy Grayson stood by, erect, calm, and grave.
"Now, gentlemen," he said, "you are a crowd
come from Crow's Wing to meet me here, and to
hear what I have to say. I trust that you will like it,
and indicate your liking by your applause."
The stump was placed in the middle of the floor,
and Jimmy Grayson stepped upon it. His face at
that height was visible through the window to any
one outside, although the others would be hidden.
Just as he took his place Harley thought he heard
the soft crunch of a footstep on the snow beneath
the window. He felt a burning curiosity to rise and
look out, but he restrained it and did not move.
The guide was staring at the candidate in open-
mouthed amazement, but he, too, did not speak.
A few big white flakes drove in at the open window,
but they did not reach the men before the fire that
blazed so brightly. Harley again thought he heard
the soft shuffle of footsteps on the snow outside, but
then the burning wood crackled merrily, and Jimmy
Grayson was about to speak.
Sylvia stood erect against the wall, her glowing
eyes full of admiration. Her quick mind had grasp
ed the whole plan.
"Gentlemen of Crow's Wing," said the candidate,
THE CANDIDATE
in his full, penetrating voice, which the empty old
building gave back in many an echo, "it is, indeed, a
pleasure to me to meet you here. The circum
stances, the situation, are such as to inspire any one
who has been so honored. I should like to have
seen your little town, the home of brave and honest
men, nestling as it does among these mighty moun
tains, and far from the rest of the world, but strong
and self-reliant. I appreciate, too, your kindness
and your thought for me. Seeing the advance of
the storm, and knowing its dangers, you have come
to meet me in this place, once so full of life. I find
something singularly appealing and pathetic in this.
Once again, if only for a brief space, Queen City shall
ring with human voices and the human tread."
The candidate paused a moment, as if the end of a
rounded period had come and he were gathering
strength for another. Then suddenly arose a mighty
chorus of applause. It was Harley, "King" Plum-
mer, Heathcote, and Jim, and their act was spon
taneous, the inspiration of the moment, drawn from
Jimmy Grayson's own inspiration. The guide beat
upon the floor with both hands and both feet, and
the other three were not less active. Moreover, the
guide opened his mouth and let forth a yell, rapid,
cumulative, and so full of volume that it sounded
like the whoop of at least a half-dozen men. The
room resounded with the applause, and it thundered
down the halls of the great empty building. When
it died, Harley, listening again intently, heard once
more the crunch of feet on the snow outside, but now
it was a rapid movement as if of surprise. But the
sound came to him only a moment, because the
candidate was speaking once more, and he was worth
hearing. He only looked away to see Sylvia, who
229
THE CANDIDATE
still stood against the wall with her glowing eyes
fixed in admiration on her uncle. Once or twice
she, too, glanced aside!, and her gaze was for Harley.
But it was a different look that she gave him. There
was admiration in it, too, and also a love that no
woman ever gives to a mere uncle. In those mo
ments the color in her cheeks deepened.
As an orator Jimmy Grayson was always good,
but sometimes he was better than at other times,
and this evening was one of his best times. The
audience from Crow's Wing, the consideration they
had shown in meeting him here in the dead city,
and the wildness of the night outside seemed to in
spire him. He showed the greatest familiarity with
the life of the mountains and the needs of the miners ;
he was one of them, he sympathized with them, he
entered their homes, and if he could he would make
their lives brighter.
Never had the candidate spoken to a more ap
preciative audience. With foot and hand and voice
it thundered its applause; the building echoed with
it, and all the time the fire burned higher and higher,
and the merry crackling of the wood was a minor
note in the chorus of applause. But Jimmy Gray-
son's own voice was like an organ, every key of
which he played; it expressed every human emotion;
full and swelling, it rose above the applause, and
Harley, watching his expressive face, saw that he
felt these emotions. Once he believed that the can
didate, carried away by his own feelings, had be
come oblivious of time and place, and thought now
only of the troubles and needs of the mountain men.
Harley's attention turned once more to the win
dows. He thought what a lucky chance it was that
no one standing on the ground outside was high
230
THE CANDIDATE
enough to look through them into the room. He
blessed the unknown builder, and then he tried to
hear that familiar shuffle on the snow, but he did
not hear it again.
Jimmy Gray son spoke on and on, and the applause
kept pace, until at last the guide slipped quietly from
the room. When he returned, a quarter of an hour
later, the candidate was still speaking, but Jim gave
him a signal look and he stopped abruptly.
"They are gone," said Jim. "They must have
been gone a full hour. The snow has stopped, and
I guess they are at least ten miles from here, runnin'
for their lives. They knew that if the men of Crow's
Wing put hands on 'em they'd be hangin' from a
limb ten minutes after."
Jimmy Gray son sank down on the stump, ex
hausted, and wiped his hot face.
"Say, Mr. Harley," whispered the guide to the
correspondent, "I've heard some great speeches in
my time, but to-night's was the greatest."
The candidate spoke the next day at Crow's Wing,
and his audience was delighted. But Jim was right.
The speech was not as great as the one he had made
at Queen City.
XV
WORDS BY THE WAY
RUMORS of the adventure in the dead city had
spread throughout the little mountain town
in which Jimmy Grayson made his speech the day
after the stop in Queen City, and when he began
the return journey an escort, from which all the
bandits in the wilds. of the Rocky Mountains would
have turned aside, was ready for him. It was a
somewhat noisy band, but orderly and full of enthu
siasm, secretly wishing that a second attempt would
be made, and their devotion to Jimmy Grayson and
his cause found an answering sympathy in Harley.
They had passed the night in Crow's Wing, and
the start was made when the first sunlight brought a
sudden uplifting of a white world into a dazzling
burst of blue and yellow and red. But no more
snow was falling, and those who knew said that the
day would continue fair.
Sylvia Morgan had not been present at the speech
the night before. Even she, bred amid hardships
and dangers, was forced to admit that her nerves
were somewhat unstrung, and she rested quietly in
a warm room at the hotel. Harley knocked once on
her door, and received the reply that she was all
right. Then he turned away and went slowly down
the hall, thoughtful, and, for the first time in many
days, thoroughly understanding himself, To the
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THE CANDIDATE
world, when the world should hear of it, the candi
date would always be the central figure in the epi
sode of the dead city, but Harley knew that their ad
venture in the old hotel was more momentous to
him than it had been to the candidate. His doubts
and his hesitation were gone; he knew what Sylvia
Morgan represented to him, and with that knowl
edge came a certain peace; it would have been a
greater peace had not the shadow of "King" Plum-
mer been so dark.
When Sylvia reappeared for the return there was
nothing to indicate that she had ever been tired or
nervous. She seemed to Harley the incarnation of
fresh, young life, and there was a singular softness
and gentleness in her manner, all the more winning
because she had let it appear more rarely hitherto.
She held out her hand to Harley.
"You see that I have passed through our advent
ure without harm to my nerves," she said.
"I knew that you would do so," replied Harley.
He would have said more, but the armed escort, to
a man, was bowing respectfully, and making no very
great effort to conceal its admiration at the sight of
a lady, young and beautiful, such an infrequent vis
itor to their lonely hamlet. Nor was this admiration
diminished by the fact, known to them all, that she
had taken the hazardous journey over the moun
tains with Jimmy Grayson. They considered it a
special honor and dignity conferred upon themselves,
and as the candidate introduced them, one by one,
the bows were repeated but with greater depth.
Sylvia Morgan knew how to receive them. She was
a child of the mountains herself, and without any
sacrifice of her own dignity she could make them
feel that they knew her and liked her,
THE CANDIDATE
All Crow's Wing saw them off, and they rode away
over the mountains in the splendid red and gold of
the dawn. Mr. Grayson and "King" Plummer were
near the head of the troop, and Harley and Sylvia
were near the rear, where they remained a part of
the general group for a long time, but at last dropped
back behind all the others.
"Won't Mr. Churchill be shocked when he hears
of our adventure in the dead city?" said Sylvia.
" He will think that it is the climax," was the reply.
Harley laughed, but in a few moments he became
grave. Yet there was an expression of much sweet
ness about his firm mouth.
"Still I am glad that it happened," he said. "I
saw a new illustration of our candidate's powers,
and I learned, too, much more than that."
She glanced at him, and as she read something in
his face she looked quickly away, and a sudden
flush rose to her cheeks. Despite herself, her heart
began to beat fast and her hand trembled on the
bridle rein.
Harley expected her to ask what it was that he
had learned, but when he saw her averted face he
went on:
"I learned then, Sylvia, what I should have known
long before, that I love you, that you are the one
woman in the world for me. And I do not believe,
Sylvia, that you care only a little for me."
He was bold, masterful, and the ring of confidence
was in his voice. His hand, for a moment, touched
her trembling hand on the bridle rein, and she thrilled
with the answering touch.
"Sylvia," he said, with grave sweetness, "I mean
to win you."
"You must not talk so," she said, and a sudden
234
THE CANDIDATE
pallor replaced the color in her face. "You know
that I cannot in honor hear it. I am promised, and
of my own accord, to another, and to one to whom
every sacred obligation commands me to keep my
promise."
"I do not forget your promise Mr. Plummer was
in my mind when I was speaking nor do I urge you
to break it."
"Why, then, do you speak ? Why do you say that
you mean to win me?"
"Because Mr. Plummer must break this bargain
himself. He, of his own accord, must give your
promise back to you. I mean to make him do so.
I do not yet know how, but I shall find a way.
Oh, I tell you, Sylvia, this marriage of his and
yours is not right. It's against nature. You do
not love him; you cannot do not protest not
in a way that a woman should love the man whom
she is going to marry. You love me instead, and I
mean to make you keep on loving me, just as I mean
to make Mr. Plummer give you back your promise."
"Have you not undertaken two large tasks?" she
said, smiling faintly.
But Harley, usually so short and terse, had made
this long speech with fire and heat, as the "still
waters" were now running very deep, and he went on:
"I have given you fair warning, Sylvia. Neither
you nor Mr. Plummer can say that I have begun any
secret campaign. I have told you that I mean to
make you marry me."
She thought that she ought to stop him, to tell
him that he must never speak of such a thing again.
Before her rose the figure of the man whom she had
promised to marry, square, massive, and iron-gray,
but, solid as the figure was, it quickly faded in the
235
THE CANDIDATE
light of the real and earnest young face beside her.
Youth spoke to youth, and she did not stop him,
because what he was saying to her was very pleasant,
though it might be wrong.
The morning was brilliant and vivid on the moun
tains. Far away the white peaks melted dimly into
the blue sky, and below them lay the valleys, cup
after cup, white with snow. The others rode on
ahead, not noticing, and Harley was not one to let
time slip through his fingers.
"You must not speak in this way to me again,"
she said, at last, although her tone was not sad, only
firm, "because it is not right. I knew that it was
wrong, even while you were saying it, but I could not
stop you. You know you cannot change what is
fixed, and I must marry Mr. Plummer."
Harley laughed joyously. Later he did not know
why he was so confident then, but the air of the
mountains and a new fire, too, were sparkling in his
veins, and at that moment he had no doubts.
"You will not marry Mr. Plummer," he repeated,
with energy, "and it is not you that will break the
promise. It is he that shall give it back to you."
For the time she felt his faith, and her face glowed,
but her courage left her when the "King," who had
been ahead with the candidate, dropped back towards
the rear and joined them.
"King" Plummer, too, had begun that return
journey with feelings of exhilaration. Everything
in the trip from Crow's Wing appealed to him, be
cause it was so thoroughly in consonance with his
early life in the mountains. The adventure in
Queen City had stirred his blood, and around him
were familiar things. He, too, wished that an or
ganized band of bandits would come, because in his
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THE CANDIDATE
younger days he had helped to hunt down some of
the worst men in the mountains, and the old fighting
blood mounted as high as ever in his veins.
He had seen that Sylvia was entirely recovered
from the alarms of the night at Queen City, and then,
because he felt that it was his duty, and because
there was a keen zest in it, too, he rode on ahead
with the candidate, to whom he pointed out dim
blue peaks that he knew, and to whom he laid down
the proposition that those mountains were full of
minerals, and would one day prove a source of il
limitable wealth to the nation.
The crispness of the morning, the vast expanse of
mountain, and the feeling of deep, full life made the
"King's" blood tingle. His years of hardship, dan
ger, and joy and he had enjoyed his life greatly
swept before him, and he laughed under his breath;
life was still very good. After a while the thought
of Sylvia came to him, and he smiled again, because
Sylvia was truly good to look upon. He rode back
towards her, and then he received a blow a blow
square in the face, and dealt heavily.
"King" Plummer's was not a mind trained to
look upon the more delicate shades of life he dealt
rather with the obvious; but when he saw Harley
and Sylvia he knew. Mrs. Grayson's warning,
which at first he had only half accepted, had come
true, and it had come quickly. His instant impulse
was that of the primitive man to raise his fist and
strike down this foolish, this presumptuous youth
who had dared to cross the path of him, the King
of the Mountains; but he did not raise it, because
"King" Plummer was a gentleman; instead, he
strove to conceal the fact that he was breathing hard
and deep, and he spoke to them in a tone that he
237
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sought to render careless, but which really had an
unnatural sound. Sylvia gave him a glance that
was half fear, and had the "King" taken notice it
would have filled him with deep pain, but Harley,
who alone of the three retained his self-possession,
spoke lightly of passing things. The feeling of ex
ulting strength was not yet gone from him; in the
presence of this man of great achievement he was
not afraid, and, moreover, the desire to protect
Sylvia, to turn attention from her, was strong within
him.
For these reasons Harley carried the whole bur
den of the talk, and carried it well. Neither of the
others wished to interrupt him; Sylvia being full of
these new emotions, half joy and half fear, that agi
tated her, and Mr. Plummer trying to evolve from
chaos a way to act.
Although the "King" had suppressed the mus
cular manifestation, he was none the less burned by
internal fire. Sylvia was his: it was he who had
found her in the mountains ; it was he who had given
her the years of care and tenderness, and by every
right, including that of promise, she belonged to him.
Nor was he one to give her up for a fancy. He had
seen the look of love on her face when she spoke to
Harley, but she was only a girl from the crest of
his years the "King" thought that he saw the truth,
and knew it and as soon as this campaign was over,
and the Eastern youth had disappeared, she would
forget him.
Mr. Plummer regarded this youth out of the cor
ner of his eye, and while he pitied him for his igno
rance of life, he was bound to admit that Harley was
a handsome fellow, tall, well knit, and with an air
of self-reliance. Evidently there was good stuff in
238
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him, and he would amount to something when he
was trained and mature, although the "King" con
cluded that he needed a great deal of training. But
he could not fail to feel respect for Harley's presence
of mind, his calm, and his ease. The youth showed
no fear of him, no sign of apprehension, and the
mountaineer gave him credit for it.
Sylvia was glad when they stopped in one of the
lower glades to rest and eat of the food which had
been so amply provided for them. But she was
proud of Harley and the manner in which he had
taken upon himself all the burden. His conduct
went far to justify in her eyes his confident predic
tion, and, secretly approving, she watched the ease
with which he bore himself among the blunt moun
taineers and the handsome manner in which he
affiliated. She noticed that they seemed to think
of Harley as one like Jimmy Grayson that is, one of
themselves and they never considered him raw or
green in any respect.
Her confidence in Harley and the momentary
elation returned as they stood there in this cup in
the mountain-side and looked out upon the expanse
of peak and plain. She ate, too, with an appetite
that the mountain air sharpened, and she thrilled
with strength and hope.
Mr. Plummer, from some motive that she did not
understand, kept himself in the background during
the stop; nor did she know how his big heart was
filled with wrath and gloom. But as he stood silently
at the farthest rim of the circle, he resolved to push
his fortunes, which was in accordance with his
nature.
"Will you walk to the edge of the cove with me?"
he said to the candidate, when he saw that the latter
239
THE CANDIDATE
had finished his luncheon, and Mr. Grayson, without
a word, complied with his request.
Jimmy Grayson must have had some premonition
of what was to come, because he obeyed his first
impulse, and glanced at Harley and Sylvia, who
were standing together. He was confirmed in his
thought when he saw the look of gloom and resolve
upon the face of his friend.
"I want to speak to you of Sylvia," said "King"
Plummer, in tones of hurry, as if it cost him an effort.
"It's about our marriage. I think I ought to hurry
it up a little. You see well, you can't help seeing,
that, compared with Sylvia, I'm old. I'm not really
old, but I'm old enough to be her father, an' youth
has a way that's pretty hard to break of turnin' to
youth."
"Yes," said Jimmy Grayson.
"Sylvia's just a girl; she don't seem much more 'n
a child to me, an' lately she's been travellin' about a
heap, an' she's met new people. Now, I don't blame
her, don't think that, because it's natural, but here
is this young writin' chap."
"Harley, you mean?"
"Yes. An' I'm not sayin' anythin' against him,
either, though writin' has never been much in my
line, but he an' Sylvia seem to have taken a sort of
shine to each other I don't know whether it amounts
to any more than that, though I suppose it could if
it was give a chance; but down there in Queen City
he did more for her than I did, or anybody else, and
I suppose that tells with a girl. Well, you saw 'em
together as we walked out here, an' I'm bound to
admit that they make a powerful likely couple."
He hesitated, as if he were waiting for the candi
date to speak, but Mr. Grayson was silent. He
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THE CANDIDATE
glanced once at the strong face of Plummer, drawn
as if in pain, and then he looked into the valley a
thousand feet below. Jimmy Grayson did not care
to speak.
"I ain't a blind man," continued the "King." "I
may not be too smart, but still things don't have to
be driven into me with a wedge. If Sylvia and Har-
Tey were left to themselves, they would fall deep in
love, I can see that; but I tell you, Mr. Grayson,
she's mine, she belongs to me, because I've earned
her, and because she's promised herself to me, too,
an' I can't give her up. Still, if it's wrong, if I ought
to let her have her promise back, I'll do it anyhow.
An' that's why I've asked you to walk out here. I
don't like much to speak to another man of a thing
right next to my heart, but I want to ask you, Mr.
Grayson you are her uncle an' my best friend
what do you think I ought to do?"
It was hard to embarrass Jimmy Grayson, but he
was embarrassed now. He would rather any other
man in the world had asked him any other question.
Sylvia was his niece, and her happiness was dear to
him. Harley, too, had found a place in his heart. And
when he glanced at them again and saw them still
together, it seemed fit and right that they should
continue so through life. But there was "King"
Plummer, an honest man, and his claim could not
be denied. And his mind could not help asking this
insidious little question, "If Sylvia is allowed to
throw over 'King' Plummer, will he not sulk and
allow the Mountain States, passing from her uncle,
to go into the other column?" Jimmy Grayson
would not have been human if he had not heard this
little question demanding an answer, but he reso
lutely resisted it.
16 241
THE CANDIDATE
"What do you say?" asked Mr. Plummer. "I'd
risk much on your advice."
"I was studying your question, because in a case
like this a man has to think of so many things, and
then may miss the right one. But, Mr. Plummer, I
don't know what to say; I think, however, I'd wait.
Sylvia is a good girl, and I know you can trust her.
But they are beckoning to us; they are ready to
start."
He was glad of that start, because it saved him
from further discussion of the problem, and Mr.
Plummer went back with him moodily.
Yet the resolve in the "King's" mind had only
been strengthened by his talk with the candidate.
The danger of Sylvia slipping through his fingers
because of his own want of precaution made her
all the more dear to him, and he was determined to
take that precaution now. So he was watchful
throughout the remainder of the journey, seeking
his opportunity, and it came towards the twilight,
as they saw the first houses of the railroad station
rise upon the horizon.
Mrs. Grayson, Hobart, Blaisdell, the state politi
cians, and, all the others came out to meet them, and
for a while there was a turmoil of voices asking
questions and answering them. Presently Sylvia
slipped from the group, and Mr. Plummer followed
her towards the hotel.
"Sylvia," he said, "wait for me. I have some
thing to say."
She recognized an unusual tone in his voice and she
was frightened. She felt an almost irresistible im
pulse to run and to hide herself in some dim room of
the hotel. But she did not do it; instead, she waited
and walked by his side.
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"Sylvia," he said, "the perils and hardships of
the trip we are just finishin' have set me to thinkin'
hard."
She trembled again. She felt as if he were going
to say something that she would not like to hear.
"That trip was full of dangers for you, and, as we
go through all this Western country, there may be
more to come. I want the right, Sylvia, to look
after you, to look after you more closely than I've
ever done before, and to do that, Sylvia, I've got to
be your husband."
"I have promised."
"I know you have, an' I know you'll keep your
promise. But I want you to keep it now. Why
couldn't we get married, say next week, and make
this campaign one big weddin' tour. I think it
would be grand, Sylvia, an' it's right easy to arrange."
He paused, awaiting her answer, but she had sud
denly lost all her color, and, despite herself, she trem
bled violently.
"Oh no!" she cried, "not now! It would be bet
ter to wait. Why break up this pleasant Oh, I
don't mean that! I mean, why not go on as we are
through the campaign, and afterwards we could talk
of of what you propose? Anything else now
would be so unusual. I think we'd better wait!"
She spoke almost breathlessly under impulse, and
then she stopped suddenly as if afraid. The color
poured back into her face, and she waited timidly.
The King of the Mountains, who had never known
fear, was gripped by a cold chill. He had delivered
his master-stroke and it had failed.
"We'll wait, Sylvia," he said, gloomily. "Of
course a woman's wish in such a matter as this is
law, and more thari law."
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"Oh, daddy, don't you see how it is?" she cried,
moved by his tone. "I'm but twenty-two. I don't
want to marry just yet. I haven't seen enough of
this big world. Why can't we wait a little?"
"Don't be afraid, child; no one shall make you
marry when you don't want to," he said, soothingly
and protectingly, and this role became him superbly.
"The subject sha'n't be mentioned to you again
while the campaign lasts."
"You are the best man in the world, daddy!" she
exclaimed. Suddenly she rose on tiptoe, kissed him
lightly on the cheek, and then ran away. "King"
Plummer walked gravely back to the lobby of the
hotel, where a crowd was gathered.
Harley was one of this crowd, and on entering the
room he had been met at once by Churchill, upon
whose face was a look of consternation.
"Harley," he asked, "is the report true that
Gray son was in danger of being kidnapped by
bandits on this trip to Crow's Wing?"
"It is true, every word of it."
"My God! what will Europe say?" exclaimed
Churchill, aghast.
Harley laughed, but he did not attempt to reason
with Churchill. He knew that the correspondent
of the Monitor was too far gone to be reached by
argument.
Churchill sent a lurid despatch to the Monitor,
describing in detail the folly and recklessness of the
candidate, and the manner in which he neglected
the great issues of the campaign for the sake of im
pulses, which always terminated in frivolous or dan
gerous adventures. And the Monitor fully backed
up its correspondent, because, when the issue of the
paper that published the despatch reached them, it
244
THE CANDIDATE
also contained an editorial, in which the editor wrote
in anguish of heart:
"We have supported Mr. Grayson in this campaign
with as much zeal and energy as our moral sense
would permit. We have given him full credit for
all the virtues that he may possess, and we have
been willing at all times for him to profit by our
experience and advice. But our readers will bear
witness that we have never failed in courage to de
nounce the wrong, even if it should be in our own
house. Our easy, and on the whole superficial,
American temperament condones too many things.
Never was it more noticeable than in the vital is
sues of this Presidential campaign. The yellow jour
nals are making a great noise over Mr. Grayson ; they
shout about his oratory, his generosity, and his noble
impulses until the really serious minority of us can
scarcely hear; but the grave, thoughtful people, those
who are recognized in Europe as the real leaders of
American opinion, will not be put down. Despite
the turmoil of the childish, we have never lost
our heads. The Monitor, from the very first, has
perceived the truth, and it has the courage to tell
it. We contribute this advice willingly and with
out charge to those who are conducting the cam
paign.
"The youthful and flamboyant qualities must be
eradicated from Mr. Grayson. Our young republic
cannot afford to be discredited in the eyes of Europe
by the sensational or frivolous actions of one who is
nominated by a great party for the high office of
President. This last adventure with brigands in the
mountains is really more than our patience will bear,
and our readers know that our patience is great,
245
THE CANDIDATE
We have suggested, we have advised, and we have
even threatened by indirection, but thus far it has
all been futile.
"Now we mean to speak with the bluntness and
decision demanded by the circumstances. A com
mittee of men, mature in years and solid in judgment,
some of whom we can name, must be put in control
of the campaign. Mr. Grayson must be kept within
strict limits; he must take advice before delivering
his speeches, and he must not be permitted to turn
aside for irrelevant issues. And since the Monitor
speaks reluctantly, and in the utmost kindness, we
suggest that he become a faithful reader of our col
umns. A word to the wise is sufficient."
The day this issue of the Monitor arrived Sylvia
said to Churchill:
"Mr. Churchill, I want to thank you in behalf of
my uncle for that beautiful editorial in the Monitor.
It was put in the very way that would appeal to him
most."
"Do you really think so, Miss Morgan?" said
Churchill, blushing with borrowed pride.
"Oh yes, but it was so typical, it had so much of
a certain personal quality in it, that I am sure you
must have telegraphed it to the Monitor yourself."
"King" Plummer, who stood by and who had
very little to say these days, smiled sourly.
XVI
BY THE FIRELIGHT
THE special train now entered one of the most
mountainous portions of Utah, and, as the stren
uous nature of the campaign continued, its exigencies
permitted little time for other things. Personal feel
ings, fears, and hopes had to be buried, or at least
hidden for the time, and Harley, like all the rest, was
absorbed in work. Nevertheless, his feeling of con
fidence, even exhilaration, remained. He believed
that he would yet discover a way.
He found this part of the campaign pleasant, physi
cally as well as mentally. The alternation of huge
mountain and fertile valley was grateful to the eye,
and, however severe the day's journey might be,
they knew there would be good rest at the end.
It had been nearly a week since the episode of the
dead city, when Hobart bustled back to Harley and
said:
" Harley, we shall have the noble red man to hear
us to-night. We stop just at the edge of the Indian
reservation, and a lot of the braves, with their
squaws, too, I suppose, will attend. Of course they
will be duly impressed by Jimmy Grayson's ora
tory."
Sylvia Morgan was present when this news was
announced, and Hobart suddenly stopped short and
glanced at her. She had turned pale, and then, re-
THE CANDIDATE
membering that old tragedy in her life when she was
a little child, he ascribed her pallor to her horror at
the mention of Indians. But Hobart did not know
that they were approaching the scene of the memo
rable massacre.
The train now curved southward and entered a
fertile valley lying like a bowl among the high moun
tains. They saw here fields that had been golden
with wheat, ripe fruit yet hung from the trees, and
the touch of green was still visible, although autumn
had come. By the railway track a clear mountain
stream flowed, sparkling in the thin, pure air, and
there was more than one full-grown man in the can
didate's party who, with memories of his youth be
fore him, longed to pull off shoes and socks and wade
in it with bare feet.
The sight was most refreshing after so much moun
tain and arid expanse, and the tired travellers bright
ened up visibly.
"One of the states has the motto, ' Here we rest'
I've forgotten which it is but it ought to be Utah,"
said Hobart, "and now's the time."
He was not disappointed. They came before noon
to Belleville, the metropolis of the valley, the place
where the candidate was going to speak, one of the
prettiest little towns that ever built its nest in the
Rocky Mountains. They were all enthusiastic over
it, with its trim houses, its well-paved streets, the
clear water flowing beside the curbs, and its air of
completion. The people, too, had all the Western
courage and energy, without its roughness and un
due expression, and so the candidate and his party
luxuriated.
"You wouldn't think that this gem of a town was
harried more by Indians in its infancy than perhaps
248
THE CANDIDATE
any other place in the West, would you ?" said Hobart
to Harley.
"Hobart, what a nuisance you are!" replied Har
ley; "you are always prowling around in search of
useless facts. Now, I don't want to hear anything
about bloodshed and massacre, when Belleville is the
picture of neatness and comfort that it is to-day.
Look at that little opera-house over there! You
couldn't find anything handsomer in a city of fifty
thousand in the East."
" Harley," said Hobart, with emphasis, " I wouldn't
have your lack of curiosity for anything in the world,"
and he wandered away in disgust to pour his ancient
history into the ears of a more willing listener.
At twilight they ate an admirable dinner, and then
Harley, Hobart, who had returned from his explora
tions, Blaisdell, and two or three others, after their
custom, filled in the interval between supper and the
speeches with a stroll through the village, Mr. Plum-
mer going along as a sort of mentor. The keeper of
the hotel informed them that many of the Indians al
ready were in town and were "tanking up." Har
ley found this to be true, and the red men failed to
arouse in him either respect or admiration. If they
had ever had any nobility of the wilderness, it was
gone now, and they seemed to him a sodden, de
pressed, and repellent race. A half-dozen oj so, in
various stages of drunkenness, through whiskey sur
reptitiously obtained, increased the feeling of aversion.
In the dusk they stumbled over a figure lying square
ly across the path, and Harley drew back with a
word of disgust. An old Indian, dilapidated and in
the last stages of intoxication, was stretched out on
his face. A local resident named Walker, who had
joined them, laughed.
249
THE CANDIDATE
"That," said he, "is a chief, a great man, or at
least he was once. It's old Flying Cloud poetical
name, though he don't look poetical now by a long
shot. Here, get out of this; you're blocking up the
road!"
With true Western directness he administered a
kick to the prostrate form, but the old chief, buried
in a sodden dream, only stirred and muttered; then
the resident opened up a battery of kicks, and pres
ently the Indian rose to his feet and slunk off, mut
tering, in the darkness.
"They're no good at all," said Walker. "Only a
lot of sots, whenever they get the chance."
But Harley was thinking of the contrast between
what he had just seen and what he had imagined
might be the freedom and nobility of the wilderness.
It was a beautiful autumn night, and the candidate
spoke in the open, in the village square, with the
mountains that circled about him as his background.
Sylvia Morgan was not among the listeners. Usually
she enjoyed these speeches in the evening, with the
crowds, the enthusiasm, and the encircling darkness.
But to-night she would not come, nor would she tell
the reason to Harley or any of his friends. She
merely said that she wished to stay in her room at
the hotel.
The audience was quiet and attentive, and Harley
noticed'^here and there on the outskirts the dark faces
of the Indians. They interested him so much that
he left the platform presently to watch them. He
was wondering if they had any conception at all of
Jimmy Grayson's words or of a Presidential cam
paign. Nor did he gain any knowledge by his ex
amination. They listened gravely, and their faces
were without expression.
250
THE CANDIDATE
The nearest of them all to the stand Harley recog
nized as the old chief, Flying Cloud, whom Walker
had kicked off the sidewalk. He seemed to have re
covered physical command of himself, and stood
erect. There was a red feather in his felt hat, and a
shawl in brilliant stripes was drawn across his shoul
ders.
The candidate spoke in a specially happy vein that
night, and the background of the mountains added
impressiveness to his words. To Harley, again the
analyst, and seeking to put himself in the Indian's
place, there was a rhythm and power in what Jimmy
Grayson said, although he, as an Indian, might not
understand a word. He could interpret it as a chant
of battle or victory, and such, he had no doubt, was
the view of Flying Cloud.
The chief, so Harley judged, was still half under
the influence of drink, but he was paying close at
tention to the speaker, and the correspondent at last
saw in his eyes what he took to be the stir of some
emotion. It was a light, as of memories of his own
triumphs, and the chief's figure began to sway gen
tly to the music of Jimmy Grayson's voice. They had
built a bonfire near the speaker's stand, and by its
flare Harley clearly saw old Flying Cloud smile.
Hobart came up at that moment, and, Harley
pointed out to him the transformation in the old
chief's appearance. Hobart's opinion agreed with
Harley's.
"It's a battle-song that Flying Cloud is hearing,"
he said. "It's Jimmy Grayson that's stirring him
up, though maybe the old fellow doesn't understand
it that way."
The speeches ended after a while, and the people
began to leave. Presently only a few were left in
251
THE CANDIDATE
the square, and among them was Harley, who felt
no touch of sleepiness. He looked at the quiet town,
then up at the ridges and peaks, crested with snow
and silhouetted against the moonlit sky, and thought
again of that little girl, alone with her dead and in
the night among the vast mountains.
The next moment he believed that it was a tele
pathic feeling, because at his elbow was Sylvia Mor
gan herself, a red-striped shawl over her head to
protect her from the cold, and "King" Plummer,
who had evidently brought her from the hotel, not
far away.
"Are they all gone?" she asked.
"No," replied Harley; "the Indians and a few
more are left."
Harley, in the moonlight, clearly saw her shiver.
"I was restless, and I could not sleep," she said.
"I came out for the sake of the air. But I'll go
back."
"No," said Harley, "don't go. Stay with us,
please. Now what can that mean?"
A wild, barbaric chant arose near the bonfire be
hind them.
"Come!" exclaimed Harley, keen to see and hear.
"I think it's old Flying Cloud, and he's ready to turn
himself loose. We can't miss this!"
Sylvia was about to turn away, but as "King"
Plummer came up on the other side of her, and
seemed to have a curiosity like Harley's, she yielded
at last, though with reluctance, and the three walked
towards the fire.
Harley's surmise was correct, as old Flying Cloud,
jumping back and forth, was singing some kind of
war-song. There was a group about him, and in it
was Hobart, who Harley guessed had been a moving
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THE CANDIDATE
spirit in this scene. Jimmy Grayson's fire and
eloquence had done the rest.
The flames burned down a little, but they cast a
weird light on the old chief's face, bringing out like
brown carving the high cheek - bones, the great,
hooked nose, and the seamed cheeks. The thin lips
fell away from long, yellow teeth, and heightened
the effect of cruelty which his whole expression
gave.
Hobart came over to them, and said: "See how
the old fellow is changing! We've got him to sing
one of his ancient war-songs, and I guess he thinks
he's beating Jimmy Gray son now!"
Sylvia Morgan shuddered, but she said nothing.
She seemed to be held by the fascination of the ser
pent.
The chief continued to make his queer little jumps
back and forth, and went on with his chant. As he
had begun in English for his auditors, so he con
tinued, although he was now oblivious of their pres
ence. Harley, watching him, knew it, and he knew,
too, that the chief's mind was far back in the past.
His was not the song of the broken derelict, but of
the barbarous and triumphant warrior, and as he
sang he gathered fire and strength.
The circle of white faces grew around the old chief.
Every loiterer was there, and others came back. Not
one spoke. All were fascinated by the singular and
weird scene. The moon, low down on the moun
tain's crest, still shed a pallid, grayish light that
mingled with the fitful red glare from the glowing
coals, the two together casting an unearthly tinge.
But Harley's eyes never left the chief, as he saw his
figure continue to expand and grow with ancient
memories of prowess, and the eyes of Sylvia beside
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THE CANDIDATE
him, as she too listened, expressed many and strong
emotions.
Flying Cloud told of hunting triumphs, of the
slaughter of the buffalo, of fierce encounters with the
mountain-lion, of hand-to-hand combat with the
grizzly bear, and then he glided into war. Now his
voice rose, full and prolonged, without any of the
tremor or shrillness of age, and his eccentric danc
ing grew more violent. His emotions, too, were
shown on his face in all their savagery as he told of
the foray and the fight.
At first it was Indian against Indian, and never was
any mercy shown always woe to the conquered ; then
it was the whites. An emigrant train was coming over
the mountains men, women, and children. There
was danger in their path ; a Ute war-band was abroad,
but the fools knew it not. They travelled on, and
at night the children played and laughed by the
camp-fire, but the shadow of the Utes was always
there. Flying Cloud led the war -band, but held
them back until the time should come. He was wait
ing for a place that he knew. At last they reached
it, a deep canon with bushes on either side, and the
train entered the defile.
Harley suddenly felt a hand upon his arm. It
was the fingers of Sylvia grasping him, but uncon
scious of the act. He looked up and saw her face
as white as death, and a yard away the eyes of
"King" Plummer were burning like two coals.
Flying Cloud's figure swayed, and his voice trem
bled with a curious joy at the old memories. He
was approaching the great moment of triumph. He
told how the warriors lay among the bushes, watching
the foolish train come on, how they looked at each
other and rejoiced in advance over an easy victory.
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THE CANDIDATE
Some would have fired too soon, but Flying Cloud
would not let them. His was the cunning mind, as
well as the bold heart, and he omitted nothing.
The trap was perfect. The fools never suspected.
They stopped to make a camp, and still they did not
know that a ring of death was about them. They
built their fires, and again the children laughed and
played by the coals. It was the last time.
The old chief was now wholly the wilderness slay
er, the Indian of an earlier time. His glittering eyes
at times swept the circle of white faces about him, but
he did not see them, only that old massacre.
The narrative went on. Flying Cloud told each of
his warriors to select a victim, and fire true when he
gave the word. He chose for himself a large man
who stood by one of the wagons, a man who had with
him a woman and a little boy and a little girl, and
the little girl had long curls.
A groan burst from Plummer, and Harley saw his
great figure gather as if for a spring. But Harley,
quick as lightning, seized the man in a powerful
grasp, and cried in his ear: "Not now, Mr. Plummer,
not now, for God's sake! Wait until the end!"
Harley felt the "King" quiver in his hands, and
then cease to struggle. Sylvia stood by, still as
white as death and absolutely motionless. The
others, held by the old chief's song, did not see nor
hear.
Flying Cloud's eyes were glittering with cruel tri
umph as he continued his chant. The rifles were
raised, the white fools yet suspected nothing, but
laughed and jested with each other as if there would
be a to-morrow.
Then he gave the word, and all the rifles were fired
at once. The canon was filled with smoke and the
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whistling of bullets. Most of the men in the train
were killed at once, and then the warriors sprang
among those who were left. Flying Cloud had shot
the tall man by the wagon, and then he sought the
woman and the two children. He slew the woman
and the little boy, and he scalped them both. Then
he sprang at the girl, but the child of the Evil Spirit
slipped among the bushes, and he could not find her.
The old chief stopped a moment, and once more
his glittering eyes swept the circle of white faces,
but saw them not. Then that fierce cry burst again
from Plummer. Suddenly he threw off Harley as
if he had been a child, and sprang through the ring
of white faces into the circle of the firelight. The
tall, pale girl, still not saying a word, stood by, like
an avenging goddess.
"Murderer!" cried the "King." "It is not too
late to punish you!"
He seized the old chief by the throat, but the white
men threw themselves upon him and tore him off.
Flying Cloud reeled back, gazed a moment at
Plummer, and then drew a knife.
"It was when there was war between us, and I
will not swing at the end of the white man's rope,"
he said.
So speaking, he plunged the blade into his own
heart and fell dead, almost at the feet of the woman
whose kin he had slain.
"Whatever the red scoundrel was," said Hobart,
later, "I shall always use the old text for him, and
say that nothing in this life became him like the
leaving of it."
But there were no such feelings in the heart of
Sylvia Morgan. When "King" Plummer sprang
upon Flying Cloud, Harley turned involuntarily to
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Sylvia, and he saw the pallor replaced by a sudden
flush ; then, when the chief slew himself with his own
knife, the flush passed, and whiter than ever she sank
down gently. But Harley caught her in his arms
before she fell, and in a moment or two she revived.
It seemed to be her first thought that she was held
by him, and she struggled a little.
"Let me go," she said; "I can stand. I assure
you I can. It was just a passing weakness."
But Harley wished to make certain that it was not
more than that before he released her, and the friend
ly darkness and the interest of the crowd centred
on Flying Cloud aided him. A minute later Mrs.
Grayson and the wife of a local political leader,
Mrs. Meadows, took her from him and carried her to
the hotel. Mrs. Grayson, who had heard the chief's
chant, understood the story, but Mrs. Meadows, who
knew nothing of Sylvia's relation to it, but who
guessed something from the talk of the others, was
devoured by curiosity. However, she prevailed over
it, for the time, and was silent as she went with
Sylvia back to the hotel, although she made a vow
which she kept that she would find out the full
truth in the morning.
Harley lingered a little by the firelight and joined
Hobart and the crowd. The tragedy had cut deep
into his thoughts and he did not care to talk, but
the others had plenty to say.
"What a singular coincidence," said Tremaine,
stroking his fine, white, pointed mustache, of which
he was very proud. "I call it very remarkable that
this savage should have told the story of that old
tragedy the very night when the only survivor of
it was present."
"I do not call it remarkable at all," said Hobart.
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"It is not even a coincidence in the usual meaning
of the word. It came about naturally, each chapter
in the story being the logical sequence of the chapter
that preceded it."
"It may all be very clear to a man like you, one
who makes a study of crime and mysteries," said
Tremaine, ironically, as he gave his mustache an
impatient tug, "but it is far from being so to me.
I still call it a coincidence."
"That is because you haven't taken time to think
about it, Tremaine. Your mind is entirely too good
to accept such a theory as coincidence. In the first
place, Mr. Grayson is making a thorough tour of the
West, all the more thorough because these are sup
posed to be doubtful states. Now what more natural
than his coming to Belleville, which is one of the
most important towns in northern Utah, and, having
come, what more probable than the presence of the
Indians at his speech, because such attractions are
rare in Belleville, and the Indian would come to see
what it is that stirs up so much his white friend and
brother. Of course, the Indian in his degenerate
days, would take the chance to get drunk, and, being
in a whiskey stupor, he naturally supposed that Mr.
Grayson was chanting a chant of victory, and quite
as naturally he chanted in return his own chant, and
also quite as naturally this chant was about the
deed that he considered the greatest of his life. So,
there you are; the chain is complete, the result is
natural; any other result would have been unnat
ural."
Tremaine laughed.
"You have worked it out pretty well, Hobart,"
he said, "but I have my own opinion."
"You are entitled to it," rejoined Hobart, briskly,
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"but be sure you keep it to yourself, and then you
won't suffer from the criticisms of the intelligent."
Tremaine laughed good-naturedly, and then avow
ed his concern about that beautiful girl, Miss Morgan,
who suddenly and under such peculiar circumstances
had been brought face to face with the slayer of her
people; he had perceived from the first her noble
qualities, and he felt for her the deepest sympathy.
Tremaine, while a great lover of the ladies, had in
reality less perception than any of the others in
affairs of the heart. He was, perhaps, the only one
in the group who did not know what was going on,
and for that reason he talked at length of Sylvia,
no one being able to stop him. He thought it a pity
that Sylvia should be wasted on "King" Plummer,
who was a good man, a fine old Roman soul, but then
he had his doubts about Sylvia's love for him that
is, as a husband. Mr. Plummer was too old for her.
Tremaine, by a curious inconsistency, never look
ed upon himself as old, and thought it perfectly
natural that he should carry on a mild flirtation with
any girl, provided she be handsome, although young
enough to be his daughter.
Harley was uneasy, and would have left them had
not the act called attention to himself too pointedly,
and he was forced to listen to Tremaine's rambling
comment, knowing that all the others had him in
their thoughts as they heard. Fortunately, Tre
maine did not require any comment from others,
preferring an unbroken stream of his own talk, and
Harley was able to regain his hotel in silence.
They were confronted the next morning by an an
nouncement that sent sorrow through the whole
group. Mrs. Grayson felt that the events of the
night before were too much for a young girl, and
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unless she were removed for a time to quieter scenes
and a less arduous life they would leave lasting ef
fects. Moreover, the campaign was about to enter
upon a phase in which women would prove burden
some, hence she and Sylvia were going to Salt Lake
City for a stay of two weeks, and then they would
rejoin the party at some point in the Northwest.
It was with no counterfeit grief that they heard
this news. The ladies had added brightness and
variety to a most toilsome campaign, and their daily
travel would seem very black indeed without them.
Even Churchill was loud in his regrets, because
Churchill had some of the instincts of a gentleman,
and he never failed in what was due to Mrs. Gray-
son and Sylvia. But he could not keep from making
one nasty little stab at Harley.
"Harley," he said, "do you know that they are
going to have a very stalwart escort to Salt Lake?"
"I do not," replied Harley, in some surprise. "I
think they are quite able to take care of themselves."
"Perhaps they are, but 'King' Plummer is going
with them, nevertheless. At his age it is well for a
man to keep watch over a young girl whom he ex
pects to marry, or some husky youth may carry her
off."
Harley was surprised at the strength of his desire
to strike Churchill in the face, and he was also sur
prised at the fact that he resisted it. He accounted
for it by his theory that Churchill could not help
being mean at times, and, therefore, was not wholly
responsible. So he contented himself with saying:
"Churchill, you are a fool now and then, but you
never know it."
Then he walked carelessly away before Churchill
had made up his mind whether to get angry or to,
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return a sarcastic reply. Churchill liked to use sar
casm, as it made him feel superior.
But Harley was much disturbed by Churchill's
statement. Sylvia was going away, and her stay of
two weeks might lengthen into months or become
permanent. And Mr. Plummer was going with her.
Harley's own absence would put him at a great dis
advantage, and for a moment he suspected that this
stop at Salt Lake City was an artful movement on
the part of the "King," but reflection made him ac
quit Mr. Plummer, first, because the "King" was too
honest to do such a thing, and, second, because he
was not subtle enough to think of it.
While he was planning what he would do to face
this unforeseen development, a boy trom the hotel
handed him a note. Harley's heart jumped when
he saw that it was in the handwriting of Sylvia Mor
gan, and it fluttered still further when she asked to
see him in the hotel parlor for a few minutes. He
was apprehensive, too, because if she had anything
good to tell him she certainly would not send for
him.
Sylvia was sitting in the parlor beside a window
that looked out upon a vast range of snow-covered
mountains, rising like the serrated teeth of a saw,
and, although she heard his footsteps, she did not
turn her face until Harley stood beside her. Then
she said, irrelevantly:
"Isn't that a grand view!"
"You did not send for me to tell me that," said
Harley, with a certain protecting tenderness in his
tone, because what he took to be the sadness in her
face appealed to his manly qualities.
"No, I did not. I have been thinking over what
we said to each other when we were coming back
$6)
THE CANDIDATE
from Crow's Wing, and I have concluded that it was
wrong."
"Why was it wrong? I love you, and I had the
right to tell you so."
"No, you did not. You would have had were I
free, but I am promised to another. I was wrong
to let you speak; I was wrong to listen to you."
"I will not admit it," said Harley, doggedly, "be
cause Mr. Plummer is going to give you up. He
will see that he ought not to hold you to this prom
ise."
She smiled sadly.
"I must be loyal to him," she said, "and before
starting for Salt Lake City I want to tell you that
you must not again speak to me of this."
"But I shall write to you in Salt Lake."
"You must not write of this. If you do, I will
not open another one of your letters."
"I promise not to write to you of love, but I make
no promise after that. You are not going from Salt
Lake to Idaho? This is not an excuse to leave us
for good?"
Her eyes wavered before his. It may be that she
had intended to abandon the campaign permanently,
but, with his straight and masterful glance demand
ing an honest answer, she could not say it.
"Yes, I will come back," she said, and then, with a
sudden burst of feeling: "Oh, I like your group; I
like all of you. This great journey has been some
thing fresh and wonderful to me, and I do not want
to leave it!"
"I thought not," said Harley, with returning con
fidence, "and I am glad that you sent for me here,
because it has given me a chance to tell you that,
while you mean to keep your promise, I also mean
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to keep mine. Mr. Plummer will yet yield you up.
You are mine, not his, you know you are!"
He bent suddenly and kissed her lightly on the fore
head, and every nerve in her tingled at the first
touch of the lips of the man whom she loved. Yet
with the sense of right, of loyalty to another, strong
within her, she was about to protest, but he was
gone, and the first kiss still tingled on her fore
head. She felt as if he had put there an invisible
seal, and that now in very truth she belonged to
him.
The two ladies under the escort of Mr. Plummer
left an hour later for Salt Lake City, and everybody
was at the station to see them go. Mrs. Grayson
was quiet as usual, and Sylvia was noticeably sub
dued, a fact which most of them ascribed to the
tragedy of Flying Cloud and her coming absence
of two weeks from a most interesting campaign.
"You ought to cheer up, Miss Sylvia," said Ho-
bart, "because you are not half as unlucky as we
are. You can spare us much more easily than we
can spare you."
"I am really sorry that I must go," she said, sin
cerely.
"But you will come back to us?"
"I have promised to do so."
"That is enough; we know that you will keep a
promise, Miss Sylvia."
Sylvia at first would not look at Harley. His kiss
still burned upon her brow, and she yet felt that it
was his seal, his claim upon her. And her conscience
hurt her for it, because there was "King" Plummer,
strong, protecting, and overflowing with love for her
and faith in her. But as she was telling them all
good-bye she was forced to say it to Harley, too, in
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his turn, and when he took her hand he pressed it
ever so little, and said, for her ear only:
"I am still hoping. I refuse to give you up."
She retreated quickly into the Salt Lake car to
hide her blush.
When they saw the last smoke of the train melt
ing into the blue sky, Harley and Mr. Heathcote
walked back to the hotel together. A strong friend
ship had grown up between these two, and each
valued the other's opinion.
"A fine woman," said Mr. Heathcote, looking
towards the silky blue of the sky where the smoke
had been.
"Yes, Mrs. Grayson has always impressed me as
a woman of great dignity and strength," said Harley,
purposely misunderstanding him.
"That is apparent, but I was not speaking of her.
I meant Miss Morgan; she seems to me to be of a
rare and noble type. The man who gets her, who
ever he may be, ought to think himself lucky."
Harley noticed that Mr. Heathcote did not take
it for granted that "King" Plummer would get her,
but he said nothing in reply.
XVII
THE SPELLBINDER
Atf hour after the smoke of the Salt Lake train
was lost in the blue sky, the special car bear
ing the candidate whirled off in another direction,
deep into the wonderland of the mountains. Now
white peaks were on one side and mighty chasms
on the other; then both chasm and peak were lost
behind them, and they shot through an irrigated
valley, brown with the harvest, neat villages snuggling
in the centre. But always, whether near or far, the
mountains were around them, blue on the middle
slopes, white at the crests, unless those crests were
lost in the clouds and mists.
The people in the car were more quiet than usual,
the candidate absorbed in somewhat sad thoughts,
the state politicians respecting his silence, and the
correspondents planning their despatches. But all
missed Mrs. Grayson and Miss Morgan, who, whether
they talked or not, always contributed brightness
and a gentler note to their long campaign. "King"
Plummer, too, with his loud laugh and his large,
sincere manner, left a vacancy. Every one felt that
there was now nothing ahead but business cold,
hard business and so it proved.
Every campaign enters upon successive phases, in
which the contestants advance, through politeness and
consideration, first to wary feint and parry, and
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THE CANDIDATE
then to the stern death-grip of the battle which can
mean nothing but the victory of one and the defeat
of the other. They were now approaching this last
stage, and great piles of Eastern newspapers, which
reached them in Utah, reflected all the progress of
the combat.
It was obvious to all of those skilled readers and
interpreters that the breach within the party was
widening, and that this breach could become a chasm
before the election. The Monitor and other papers,
the chosen or self-appointed champions of vested in
terests, were almost openly in revolt; in Harley's
mind their course amounted to the same thing; they
printed in their news columns many things deroga
tory to Grayson, and likely to shatter public faith
in his judgment, and in nearly all of them appeared
signed contributions from members of the wealthy
faction led by the Honorable Mr. Goodnight, at
tacking every speech made by the candidate, and
intimating that he was a greater danger to the coun
try than the nominee of the other side.
"The split will have to come," was Harley's mut
tered comment, "and the sooner the better for us."
The journals of the rival party were a singular con
trast to those of Grayson's side, as they expressed
unbounded and sincere confidence. In all that had
occurred they could not read anything but victory
for them, and Harley was bound to admit that their
exultation was justified.
But amid all these troubles the 'candidate pre
served his remarkable amiability of disposition, and
Harley witnessed another proof that he was a man
first and a statesman afterwards.
The train was continually thronged with local
politicians and others anxious to see Mr. Grayson,
266
and at a little station in a plain that seemed to have
no end they picked up three men, one of whom at
tracted Harley's notice at once. He was young,
only twenty four or five, with a bright, quick, eager
face, and he was not dressed in the usual careless
Western fashion. His trousers were carefully creased,
his white shirt was Well-laundered, and his tie was
neat. But he wore that strange combination not
so strange west of the Mississippi a sack-coat and
a silk-hat at the same time.
The youth was not at all shy, and he early ob
tained an introduction to Mr. Grayson. Harley
thus learned that his name was Moore Charles
Moore, or Charlie Moore, as those with him called
.him. Most men in the West, unless of special prom
inence, when presented to Jimmy Grayson, shook
hands warmly, exchanged a word or two on any
convenient topic, and then gave way to others, but
this fledgling sought to hold him in long converse
on the most vital questions of the campaign.
"That was a fine speech of yours that you made
at Butte, Mr. Grayson," he said, in the most impul
sive manner, "and I endorse every word of it, but
are you sure that what you said about Canadian
reciprocity will help our party in the great wheat
states, such as Minnesota and the Dakotas?"
The candidate stared at him at first in surprise
and some displeasure, but in a moment or two his
gaze was changed into a kindly smile. He read well
the youth before him, his amusing confidence, his
eagerness, and his self-importance, that had not yet
received a rude check.
"There is something in what you say, Mr. Moore,"
replied Jimmy Grayson, in that tone absolutely with
out condescension that made every man his friend;
267
THE CANDIDATE
"but I have considered it, and I think it is better for
me to stick to my text. Besides, I am right, you
know."
"Ah, yes, but that is not the point," exclaimed
young Mr. Moore; "one may be right, but one might
keep silent on a doubtful point that is likely to in
fluence many votes. And there are several things
in your speeches, Mr. Grayson, with which some of
us do not agree. I shall have occasion to address
the public concerning them as you know, a number
of us are to speak with you while you are passing
through Utah."
There was a flash in Jimmy Grayson's eye, but
Harley could not tell whether it expressed anger or
amused contempt. It was gone in a moment, how
ever, and the candidate again was looking at the
fledgling with a kindly, smiling, and tolerant gaze.
But Churchill thrust his elbow against Harley.
"Oh, the child of the free and bounding West!"
he murmured. "What innocence, and what a sense
of majesty and power!"
Harley did not deign a reply, but he made the
acquaintance, by - and - by, of the men who had
joined the train with Moore. One of these was a
county judge named Basset, sensible and middle-
aged, and he talked freely about the fledgling, whom
he seemed to have in a measure on his mind. He
laughed at first when he spoke of the subject, but he
soon became serious.
"Charlie is a good boy, but what do you think he
is? Or, rather, what do you think he thinks he is?"
"I don't know," replied Harley.
"Charlie thinks he's a spellbinder, the greatest
ever. He's dreaming by night, and by day, too, that
he's to be the West's most wonderful orator, and
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THE CANDIDATE
that he's to hold the thousands in his spell. He's a
coming Henry Clay and Daniel Webster rolled into
one. He's read that story about Demosthenes hold
ing the pebble in his mouth to make himself talk
good, and they do say that he slips away out on the
prairie, where there's nobody about, and with a stone
in his mouth tries to beat the old Greek at his own
game. I don't vouch for the truth of the story, but
I believe it."
Harley could not keep from smiling.
"Well, it's at least an honest ambition," he said.
"I don't know about that," replied the judge,
doubtfully. "Not in Charlie's case, because as a
spellbinder he isn't worth shucks. He can't speak,
and he'll never learn to do it. Besides, he's leaving
a thing he was just made for to chase a rainbow,
and it's breaking his old daddy's heart."
" What is it that he was made for?"
"He's a born telegraph-operator. He's one of the
best ever known in the West. They say that at
eighteen he was the swiftest in Colorado. Then he
went down to Denver, and a month ago he gave up
a job there that was paying him a hundred and fifty
a month to start this foolishness. They say he
might be a great inventor, too, and here he is trying
to speak on politics when he doesn't know anything
about public questions, and he doesn't know how to
talk, either; I don't know whether to be mad about
it or just to feel sorry, because Charlie's father is an
old friend of mine."
Harley shared his feelings. He had seen the
round peg in the square hole so many times with bad
results to both the peg and the hole that every fresh
instance grieved him. He was also confirmed in the
soundness of Judge Basset's opinion by his obser-
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THE CANDIDATE
vation of young Moore as the journey proceeded.
The new spellbinder was anxious to speak when
ever there was an occasion, and often when there
was none at all. The discouragement and even the
open rebukes of his elders could not suppress him.
The correspondents, comparing notes, decided that
they had never before seen so strong a rage for speak
ing. He took the whole field of public affairs for
his range. He was willing at any time to discuss the
tariff, internal revenue, finance, and foreign relations,
and avowed himself master of all Yet Harley saw
that he was in these affairs a perfect child, shallow
and superficial, and depending wholly upon a few
catchwords that he had learned from others. Even
the former Populists turned from him. But their
sour faces when he spoke taught him nothing. He
was still, to himself, the great spellbinder, and he
looked forward to the day when he, too, a nominee
for the Presidency, should charm multitudes with
his eloquence and logic. He had no hesitation in
confiding his hopes to Harley, and the correspond
ent longed to tell him how he misjudged himself.
Yet he refrained, knowing that it was not his duty;
and that even if it were, his words would make no
impression.
But in other matters than those of public life and
oratory Jimmy Grayson's people found young Moore
likable enough. He was helpful on the train; now
and then when the telegraph - operators had more
material than they could handle, he gave them .val
uable aid; he was a fine comrade, taking good luck
and bad luck with equal philosophy, and never com
plaining. "If only he wouldn't try to speak!"
groaned Hobart, for whom he had sent a telegraphic
message with skill and despatch.
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But that very afternoon Moore talked to them on
the subject of national finance, until they fell into a
rage and left the car. That evening Harley was
sitting with the candidate, when an old man, bent of
figure and gloomy of face, came to them.
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Grayson," he said, "for
intruding on you, but I've come to ask a favor. I'm
Henry Moore, of Council Grove, the father of Charlie
Moore, who was the best telegraph-operator in Den
ver, and who is now the poorest public speaker in
Colorado."
The old man smiled, but it was a sad smile, cut off
early. Jimmy Grayson was full of sympathy at
once, and he shook Mr. Moore's hand warmly.
"I know your son," he said; "he is a bright boy."
"Yes, he's nothing but a boy," said his father, as
if seeking an excuse. " I suppose all boys must have
their foolish spells, but he appears to have his mighty
hard and long."
The old man sighed, and the look of sympathy on
Jimmy Grayson's face deepened.
"Charlie is a good boy," continued Mr. Moore,
"and if he could have this foolish notion knocked
out of his head there's no other way to get it out
he would be all right; and that's why I've come to
you. You know you are to speak at Pueblo to
morrow night in a big hall, and one of the biggest
crowds in the West will be there to hear you. Two
or three speakers are to follow you, and what do you
think that son of mine has done ? Somehow or other
he has got the committee to put him on the pro
gramme right after you, and he says he is going to
demolish what he calls your fallacies."
Harley saw the candidate's lips curve a little, as
if he were about to smile, but the movement was
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THE CANDIDATE
quickly checked. Jimmy Grayson would not will
ingly hurt the feelings of any man.
"Your boy has that right," he said to Mr. Moore.
"No, he hasn't!" burst out the old man. "A boy
hasn't any right to be so light-headed, and I want
you, Mr. Grayson, when he has finished his speech,
to come right back at him and wipe him off the face
of the earth. It will be an easy thing for so big a
man as you to do. Charlie doesn't know a thing
about public affairs. He'll make lots of statements,
and every one of 'em will be wrong. Just show him
up. Make all the people laugh at him. Just sting
him with your words till he turns red in the face.
Roll him in the dust, and tread on him till he can't
breathe. Then hold him up before all that audience
as the biggest and wildest fool that ever came on
a stage. Nothing else will cure him; it will be a
favor to him and to me; and I, his father, who loves
him more than anybody else in the world, ask you
to do it."
Harley was tempted to smile, and at the same mo
ment water came into his eyes. No one could fail
to be moved by the old man's intense earnestness,
his florid and mixed imagery, and his appealing look.
Certainly Jimmy Grayson was no exception. He
glanced at Harley, and saw his expression of sym
pathy, but the correspondent made no suggestion.
"I appreciate your feelings and your position, Mr.
Moore," he said, "but this is a hard thing that you
ask me to do. I cannot trample upon a boy, even
metaphorically, in the presence of five thousand peo
ple. What will they think of me?"
"They'll understand. They'll know why it's done,
and they'll like you for it. It's the only way, Mr.
Grayson. Either you do it or my boy's life is ruined."
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Jimmy Grayson walked up and down the room,
and his face was troubled. He looked again and
again at Harley, but the correspondent made no sug
gestion; he had none to make. At last he stopped.
"I think I can save your son, and promise to make
the trial, but I will not say a word just yet. Now
don't ask me any more about it, and never mind the
thanks. I understand ; maybe I shall have a grown
son myself, some day, to be turned from the wrong
path. Good -night. I'll see you again at Pueblo.
Harley, I wish you would stay awhile longer. I
want to have further talk with you."
The candidate and Harley were in deep converse
for some time, and, when they finished, much of the
trouble had disappeared from Jimmy Grayson's eyes.
"I think it can be done," he said.
"So do I," repeated Harley, with confidence.
The next day, which was occupied with the run
down to Pueblo and occasional stops for speeches
at way -stations, was uneventful save for the growing
obsession of Charlie Moore. He was overflowing
with pride and importance. That night, in the pres
ence of five thousand people, he was going to reply
to the great Jimmy Grayson, and show to them and
to him his errors. Mr. Grayson was sound in most
things, but there were several in which he should be
set right, and he, Charlie Moore, was the man to do
it for him.
The fledgling proudly produced several printed
programmes with his name next to that of the can
didate, and talked to the correspondents of the main
points that he would make, until they fled into the
next car. But he followed them there and asked
them if they would not like to take in advance a
synopsis of his speech, in order that they might be
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THE CANDIDATE
sure to telegraph it to their offices in time. All
evaded the issue except Harley, who gravely jotted
down the synopsis, and, with equal gravity, returned
his thanks for Mr. Moore's consideration.
" I knew you wouldn't want to miss it," said the
youth, "I come on late, you know, and, besides, I re
membered that the difference in time between here
and New York is against us."
Mr. Moore, the father, was on the train through
out the day, but he did not speak to his son. He
spent his time in the car in which Jimmy Grayson
sat, always silent, but always looking, with appeal
and pathos, at the great leader. His eyes said plain
ly: "Mr. Grayson, you will not fail me, will you?
You will save my son ? You will beat him, and tread
on him until he hasn't left a single thought of being
a famous orator and public leader ? Then he will re
turn to the work for which God made him."
Harley would look at the old man awhile, and then
return to the next car, where the youth was chatter
ing away to those who could not escape him.
The speech in Pueblo was to be of the utmost im
portance, not alone to those whose own ears would
hear it, but to the whole Union, because the candi
date would make a plain declaration upon a number
of vexed questions that had been raised within the
last week or two. This had been announced in all
the press on the authority of Jimmy Grayson him
self, and the speech in full, not a word missing, would
have to be telegraphed to all the great newspapers
both East and West.
In such important campaigns as that of a Presi
dential nominee, the two great telegraph companies
always send operators with the correspondents, in
order that they may despatch long messages from
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THE CANDIDATE
small way-stations, where the local men are not used
to such heavy work. Now Harley and his associates
had with them two veterans, Barr and Wymond,
from Chicago, who never failed them. They were
relieved, too, on reaching Pueblo, to find that the
committee in charge had been most considerate.
Some forethoughtful man, whom the correspondents
blessed, had remembered the three hours' difference
in time between Pueblo and New York, and against
New York, and he had run two wires directly into
the hall and into a private box on the left, where
Barr and Wymond could work the instruments, so
far from the stage that the clicking would not dis
turb Jimmy Grayson or anybody else, but would
save much time for the correspondents.
The audience gathered early, and it was a splendid
Western crowd, big-boned and tanned by the West
ern winds.
"They have cranks out here, but it's a land of
strong men, don't you forget that," said Harley to
Churchill, and Churchill did not attempt a sarcastic
reply.
They were both sitting at the edge of the stage,
and in front of them, nearer the footlights, was
young Moore, proud and eager, his fingers moving
nervously. His father, too, had found a seat on the
stage, but he was in the background, next to the
scenery and behind the others; he was not visible
from the floor of the house. There he sat, staring
gloomily at his son, and now and then, with a sort of
despairing hope, g ancing at Jimmy Grayson.
There were some short preliminary speeches and
introductions, and then came the turn of the can
didate. The usual flutter of expectation ran over
the audience, followed by the usual deep hush, but
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THE CANDIDATE
just at that moment there was an interruption. A
boy in the uniform of a telegraph company hurried
upon the stage.
"You must come at once, sir," he said to Harley.
"Mr. Wymond hasn't turned up. We don't know
what's become of him. And Mr. Barr has took sick,
sudden and bad. The Pueblo manager says he'll get
somebody here as quick as he can, but he can't do it
under half an hour, anyway!"
The other correspondents stared at each other in
dismay, and then at the hired stenographer who was
to take down the speech in full. But Harley, al
ways thoughtful and resourceful, responded to the
emergency. He had noticed Moore raise his head
with an expression of lively interest at the news of
the disaster, and he stepped forward at once and
put his hand on the fledgling's shoulder.
"Mr. Moore," he exclaimed, in stirring appeal,
"this is a crisis for us, and you must save us. You
have eaten with us, and you have lived with us, and
you cannot desert us now. We have all heard that
you are a great operator, the greatest in the West.
You must send Mr. Grayson's speech. What a
triumph it will be for you to send his speech and
then get upon this stage and demolish it afterwards!"
The feeling in Harley's voice was real, and the boy
was thrilled by it and the situation. Every natural
impulse in him responded. It was the chivalrous
thing for him to do, and an easy one. He could send
a speech as fast as the fastest man living could de
liver it. He rose without; a word, his heart beating
with thoughts of the coming battle, in which he felt
proudly that he should be a victor, and made his
way to the telegraphers' box.
Moore had lived in Pueblo, and nearly everybody in
276
THE CANDIDATE
the audience knew him. When they saw him take
his seat at one of the instruments, their quick West
ern minds divined what he was going to do, and the
roar of applause that they had just given to the can
didate, who was now on his feet, was succeeded by
another; but the second was for Charlie Moore, the
telegraph-operator.
The fledgling had no time to think. He had
scarcely settled himself in his chair when the deep,
full voice of Jimmy Grayson filled the great hall, and
he was launched upon a speech for which the whole
Union was waiting. The short-hand man was already
deep in his work, and the copy began to come. But
the boy felt no alarm; he was not even fluttered;
the feel of the key was good, and the atmosphere of
that box which enclosed the telegraph apparatus was
sweet in his nostrils. He called up Denver, from
which the speech would be repeated to the greater
cities, and with a sigh of deep satisfaction settled to
his task.
They tell yet in Western telegraph circles of
Charlie Moore's great exploit. The candidate was in
grand form that night, and his speech came rushing
forth in a torrent. The missing Wymond was still
missing, and the luckless Barr was still ill, but the
fledgling sat alone in the box, his face bent over the
key, oblivious of the world around him, and sent it
all. Through him ran the fire of battle and great
endeavor. He heard the call and replied. He never
missed a word. He sent them hot across the prairie,
over the slopes and ridges, and across the brown
plains into Denver. And there in the general office
the manager muttered more than once: "That fel
low is doing great work! How he saves time!"
The audience liked Jimmy Grayson's speech, and
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THE CANDIDATE
again and again the applause swelled and echoed.
Then they noticed how the boy in the telegraphers'
box a boy of their own was working. Mysterious
voices, too, began to spread among them the news
how Charlie Moore had saved the day or, rather, the
night and now and then in Jimmy Grayson's pauses
cries of "Good boy, Charlie!" arose.
Harley, while doing his writing, nevertheless kept a
keen eye upon all the actors in the drama. He saw
the light of hope appear more strongly upon old man
Moore's face, and then turn into a glow as he beheld
his son doing so well.
The candidate spoke on and on. He had begun
at nine o'clock, but that was a great and important
speech, and no one left the hall. Eleven o'clock,
and then midnight, and Jimmy Grayson was still
speaking. But it was not his night alone ; it belonged
to two men, and the other partner was Charlie Moore,
who fulfilled his task equally well, and whom the au
dience still observed.
But the boy was thinking only of his duty that he
was doing so well. The victory was his, as he knew
that it would be. He kept even with the speech.
Hardly had the last word of the sentence left Jimmy
Grayson's lips before the first of it was on the way
to Denver, and in newspaper offices two thousand
miles away they were putting every paragraph in
type before it was a half -hour old.
The boy, by-and-by, as the words passed before
him on the written page, began to notice what a
great speech it was. How the sentences cut to the
heart of things! How luminous and striking was
the phraseology! And around him he heard, as if in
a dream, the liquid notes of that wonderful, golden
voice. Suddenly, like a stroke of lightning, he real-
278
THE CANDIDATE
ized how empty were his own thoughts, how bare
and hard his speech, and how thin and flat his voice!
His heart sank with a plunge, and then rose again as
his finger touched the familiar key and the answer
ing touch thrilled back through his body. He glanced
at the audience, and saw many faces looking up at
him, and on them was a peculiar look. Again the
thrill ran through him, and, bending his head lower,
he sent the words faster than ever on their eastern
journey.
At last Jimmy Grayson stopped, and then the
audience cheered its applause for the speech. When
the echoes died, some one it was Judge Basset
sprang up on a chair and exclaimed:
"Gentlemen, we have cheered Mr. Grayson, and
he deserves it; but there is some one else whom we
ought to cheer, too. You have seen Charlie Moore,
a Pueblo boy, one of our own, there in the box send
ing the speech to the world that was waiting for it.
Perhaps you do not know that if he had not helped
us to-night the world would have had to wait too long. "
They dragged young Moore, amid the cheers, upon
the stage, and then, when the hush came, the candi
date said:
"You seem to know him already; but as all the
speaking of the evening is now over, I wish to in
troduce to you again Mr. Charlie Moore, the great
est telegraph-operator in the West, the genius of the
key, a man destined to rise to the highest place in
his profession."
When the last echo of the last cheer died, there
died with it the last ambition of Charlie Moore to be
a spellbinder, and straight before him, broad, smooth,
and alluring, lay the road for which his feet were
fitted.
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THE CANDIDATE
But the words most grateful to Jimmy Grayson
were the thanks of the fledgling's father. The lit
tle drama of the side - box and the telegraph - key
was known to but five people the candidate, Harley,
the two operators, and happy Mr. Moore. The
old gentleman, indeed, said something about Mr.
Grayson having helped him, but it was taken by the
others to mean that a mere chance, a lucky combina
tion of circumstances, had come to his aid, and they
failed to see in it anything of prearrangement or
even intention. Hence there appeared on the sur
face nothing to be criticised even by Churchill, ever
on the lookout for an incident that seemed to him
incongruous or irrelevant.
Harley made it an excuse for something that he
wished very much to do. About this time Mrs.
Grayson, returning from Salt Lake City, rejoined
them, but she did not bring Sylvia with her, leaving
her in the Mormon capital for a further stay with
relatives. But Harley wrote a long letter to Sylvia,
beginning with the story of the spellbinder, and he
told her that his admiration for the candidate steadily
increased, because Mr. Grayson was able, at all times,
even in the heat of the hottest campaign that the
Union had ever known, to put the highest attributes
of the human heart mercy, gentleness, help before
his own political good or even that of his party. Mr.
Grayson might be beaten, but he would make a rec
ord that must become a source of pride, not to his
party alone, but to the whole country. In fact, Mr.
Grayson belonged to humanity, and the race might
lay claim to him as one of its finest types.
Then from Mr. Grayson he glided to the other, and,
to Harley, greater topic herself. He told her that
nothing had occurred to make him change his wishes
280
THE CANDIDATE
or his hopes ; since her absence began his resolve had
grown. He felt more than ever that the claim of Mr.
Plummer upon her, though of a high and noble nature,
even if he did hold her promise, must yield to the
love of the husband for the wife. Mr. Plummer
would come to see this, and he would come to see
it in time. He had no desire to interfere with the
natural affection of the man who had done so much
for Sylvia, nor did he feel that he was making such
interference.
Harley was not sure that he would receive a reply
to this letter, but it came in due time, nevertheless,
and it was Jimmy Grayson himself who handed it to
him. The handwriting of the address was known,
of course, to Mr. Grayson, and he could scarcely
have failed to notice it, but he said nothing, and ap
parently the fact passed unheeded by him.
Sylvia, in the course of her letter, confined herself to
impartial narrative, and began with the event of the
spellbinder, which Harley had told to her in detail.
Indeed, it seemed to Harley that she devoted a very
remarkable amount of space to its consideration,
especially as she agreed with him that Mr. Gray-
son's action was right; nevertheless, she discussed it
from all points of the compass, and then she wrote
with almost equal amplitude of her sight-seeing in
Salt Lake City.
Harley knew that Mormons were no novelty to
Sylvia, as she had seen many of them in Idaho, but
she seemed to feel it necessary to describe with par
ticularity all the great Mormon buildings, and also
to speak fully of the manners and customs of the
people. All this might have been very interesting
to him at another time and from another pen, but
now he saw only the handwriting and wished her to
281
THE CANDIDATE
devote attention to that little codicil in his own let
ter in which he so earnestly avowed again .his love
and his belief in its ultimate triumph. She made
no allusion whatever to it, and he felt his heart sink.
Nor did she speak of "King" Plummer, and he could
not gather from the letter whether "he was yet in
Salt Lake City or had gone back to Idaho. She had
carefully avoided all the subjects on which he hoped
she would write, and as he closed the letter and
put it in his pocket he was still rather blue.
But reflection put him in a different and much
more pleasant frame of mind. The fact that she
had replied was a good omen, and her very avoidance
of the most delicate of all subjects was proof that
she did not forbid it to him. Harley was a bold man,
and, being ready to push his fortune to the utmost in
a cause that he believed righteous, he resolved to
write her another letter in a few days, and to repeat
in it much that he had said in his first, or to say
words to the same effect.
Meanwhile his countenance assumed a joyous cast,
which was noticeable because he was habitually of
grave demeanor, and his associates, observing the
change, taxed him with the fact and demanded an
explanation, Hobart in particular wishing to know.
Harley lightly ascribed it to the rarefied air, as they
were ascending a plateau, and the others, though
calling it the baldest and poorest of replies, were
forced to be content.
But one man who noticed Harley, and who said
nothing, guessed much closer to the cause. It was
Mr. Grayson himself, who had seen the address on
the envelope, and it aroused grave thoughts in him.
Nor were these thoughts unkind to Sylvia or Harley.
It was the custom of the candidate to subject him-
282
self at intervals to a searching mental examination,
and now he made James Grayson walk out before
him again and undergo this minute process.
He was extremely fond of Sylvia, whose grace, in
telligence, and loyalty appealed to the best in him,
and he was anxious to secure her happiness and her
position in life, on which, in a measure, the former
depended. For these reasons he had received with
pleasure the news that Sylvia was going to marry
Mr. Plummer. Despite the disparity of ages, the
match seemed fitting to him ; he knew the worth and
honor of the "King" to be so great that the happi
ness of any young girl, especially that of one who
owed so much to him, ought to be safe in his keep
ing. But now the doubts which had begun to form
were growing stronger. He saw that nature was
playing havoc with mere material fitness, and there
came to him the question of his own duty.
The candidate now knew well enough that Sylvia
did not love Mr. Plummer as a girl should love the
man whom she is going to marry, but that she did
love Harley. He conceived it, too, to be a true and
lasting love with both the young man and the young
woman, and again came to him that question of his
own duty, a question not only troublesome, but dan
gerous to him in his present situation. He knew
that Sylvia, despite all, would marry "King" Plum
mer unless the unforeseen occurred, and make her
self unhappy all her life. Should he, then, tell " King "
Plummer, or have his wife tell him in the more
indirect and delicate way women have, that the
burden of the situation rested upon him, and that
he ought to release Sylvia? The candidate shrank
from such a task ; he could not meddle, even when it
was his own niece whom he wished to save, and there
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THE CANDIDATE
was another thought, too, in the background which
he strove honestly to keep out of his mind; it was
the old apprehension lest the "King" in his rage,
particularly when it was the candidate himself who
took from him his heart's desire, should rebel, or
at least sulk and put the Mountain States in the op
posing column. It was no less true now than in
the Middle Ages that men disappointed in love some
times did desperate things, and "King" Plummer
was a full-blooded, impulsive man.
Brooding much upon the question, a rare frown
came to the face of Jimmy Gray son, and stayed there
so long that his followers noticed it, and wondered
much. They decided that it was the revolt within
the party, and did not disturb him, but his wife,
more acute, knew that it was not politics, and, sit
ting down beside him, waited silently until he should
speak, as she knew he would in time. A full hour
passed thus, and scarcely any one in the train uttered
a word. The candidate gazed gloomily out of the
window, but he did not see the mountains and the
canons as they shot by. Most of the state politicians
slept in their seats, and the correspondents either
wrote or communed with themselves.
Mr. Grayson rose at last, and, saying to his wife,
"I should like a word with you in private," led the
way to the drawing-room. She followed, knowing
that he wished to speak of the trouble on his mind,
and she made a shrewd guess as to its nature.
"Anna, it is something that I have been trying to
put away from me," he said, when they were in the
privacy of the drawing-room, "but it won't stay
away. I suppose I ought to have spoken to you of
it some time ago, but I could not make up my mind
to do it."
284
THE CANDIDATE
She smiled a little.
"I, too, have been dreading the subject," she said,
"if it is what I think it is. You are going to speak
of Sylvia, Mr. Plummer, and Mr. Harley."
"Yes, Harley has a letter from Sylvia, and he
will have more. She doesn't want to write to him,
but she will. The girl is breaking her heart, and I
am not sure that you and I are doing what we ought
to do."
"And you do not think that Mr. Plummer would
make a suitable husband for her?"
She regarded him keenly from under lowered eye
lids the question was merely intended to lead to
something else.
"That is not the point. Harley is the man she
loves, and Harley is the man she should marry."
"Should she not decide this question for herself?"
The candidate studied the face of his wife. Her
words, if taken simply as words, would seem metallic
and cold, but there was an expression that gave
them a wholly different meaning to him.
"Under ordinary circumstances, yes," he said,
"but the circumstances in which Sylvia finds her
self are not ordinary, and I am not sure how far
we are responsible for them."
"I undertook to act once, and I was sorry that I
did so."
The candidate did not speak again for several
moments, but Mrs. Grayson read his expressive face.
"You have thought of something else," she said,
"that is or seems to be connected with this affair
of Sylvia's."
"I have, and I am afraid it is that which has been
holding me back."
The eyes of the two met, and, although they said
285
THE CANDIDATE
no more upon that point, they understood each other
perfectly.
"Anna," said the candidate, with decision, "you
must write to Mr. Plummer. I do not shift this
burden from myself to'y u because of any desire to
escape it, but because 1 know you will write the let
ter so much better than I can."
Her eyes met his again, and hers shone with ad
miration he was not less brave than she had thought
him.
"I do not know what will come of it," he said;
"perhaps nothing, but in any event we ought to
write it."
"I will write," she said, firmly.
The candidate said nothing more but he bent down
and kissed his wife on the forehead.
When Jimmy Grayson returned from the drawing-
room, they noticed that the frown was gone from
his face, and at once there was a new atmosphere in
the car. The sleepy politicians awoke and made new
or old jokes; the correspondents ceased writing, and
asked Mr. Grayson what he intended to put in his
next speech. Obviously the current of life began to
run full and free again, and the incomparable scen
ery gliding by their car -windows no longer passed
without comment. But Mrs. Grayson, in the draw
ing-room, taking much thought and care, was writ
ing this letter, which she addressed to Mr. Plummer,
in Boise", where she heard that he was going from
Salt Lake City:
"DEAR MR. PLUMMER, I want to tell you how we are
getting on, because I know how deeply you are interested
in the campaign, and all of us have enjoyed the way in
which you affiliated with our little group. We have been
so long together now that we have become a sort of family
286
THE CANDIDATE
speakers, writers, and well-wishers, with Mr. Grayson as the
head in virtue of his position as nominee. You have had a
large place in this family what shall I call it? a kind of
elder brother, one who out of the fund of his experience
could wisely lead the younger and more impulsive."
Mrs. Grayson stopped here and tapped her finger
thoughtfully with the staff of her pen. "That para
graph," she mused, "should bring home to him the
fact that he is old as compared with Sylvia and Mr.
Harley, and that is the first thing I wish to establish
in his mind. Then, dipping her pen in the ink again,
she wrote:
"This, I think, is one of the reasons that our young peo
ple have missed you so much. You were always prepared
to take your part in the entertainment of the day, but your
gravity and your years, which, without being too many, be
come you so much, exercised a restraining influence upon
them, and showed them the line at which they should stop.
I think that you acquired over them an influence, in its way
paternal, and it is in such a capacity that they miss you
most."
The lady's smile deepened, and in her mind was
the thought that if he did not wince at this bolt he
was, indeed, impervious. Then she continued:
"My interest in this campaign is not alone political nor
personal to Mr. Grayson, which also means myself, but I
have become much interested in those who travel with us
that is, those who have become the members of our new
family. There is Mr. Heathcote, who was sent West as our
enemy, and quickly turned to a friend. There is Mr. Tre-
maine, who is such a gay old beau, and who never realizes
that he is too old for the young women with whom he wishes
to flirt."
The lady stopped again, and her smile was deeper
than ever. " Now that was unintended," she mused,
"but it comes in very happily." She resumed:
287
THE CANDIDATE
" And there is Mr. Hobart, who loves mysteries, especially
murder mysteries, and who saved the life of that innocent
boy. I find him a most interesting character, but, after all,
he is read with less difficulty than Mr. Harley, who, though
silent and reserved, seems to me to be deeper and more
complex. His, I am sure, is a very strong nature Mr.
Grayson, you know, is quite fond of him, and in certain
things has got into the habit of leaning upon him. Mr.
Harley seems to me to be fitted by temperament and strength
to be the shield and support of some one. He could make
the girl who should become his wife very happy, and I am
wondering if he will go out of our West without forming
such an attachment."
"That surely," thought the lady, "will bring him
to the question which I present to his mind, and he
will answer it whether he will or not, by saying this
attachment has been formed, and it is for Sylvia."
She continued:
"Like Mr. Grayson, I am very fond of Mr. Harley, who
has proved himself a true friend to us, and I should like to
see him happy that is, married to a true woman, who would
not alone receive strength, but give it, too. In the course
of his vocation, he has already roamed about the world
enough, and it is time now for him to settle down. If I had
my way I should select for him one of our fine Western girls ;
about twenty-one or two, I think, would be the right age
for him there is a fitness in these things."
"I wonder if that is blunt?" she mused. "No, he
will think it just popped out, and that I was uncon
scious of it. I shall let it stay." Then she resumed:
"It ought to be a girl with a temperament that is at once
a match and foil for his own. She should have a sense of
humor, a gift for light and ironic speech that can stir him
without irritating him, because he is perhaps of a cautious
disposition, and hence would be well matched with one a
little bit impulsive, each exercising the proper influence
288
THE CANDIDATE
upon the other. She should be strong, too, habituated to
physical hardship, as our Western girls are. Such a mar
riage, I think, would be ideal, and I expect you, Mr. Plummer,
when you rejoin us, to help me make it, should the oppor
tunity arise. Yours sincerely,
" ANNA GRAYSON."
She folded the sheets, put them in the envelope,
and addressed them. It was the second time that
she had written to Mr. Plummer, but with a very
different motive, and she had more confidence in the
second letter than she had ever felt in the first.
"That will cause him pain," she reflected, "but
the task cannot be done without it."
In her heart she was genuinely sorry for Mr. Plum
mer, thinking at that moment more of his grief than
of her husband's risk, but she was resolute to mail
the letter, nevertheless. She read it a little later to
Mr. Grayson, and he approved.
"It is likely to bring 'King' Plummer raging down
from Idaho, but it ought to go," he said.
A half -hour later, this letter, written in a delicate,
feminine hand, but heavy with fate, was speeding
northwestward.
19
XVIII
THE SACRIFICB
A FEW days after writing this letter, Mrs. Gray-
son announced that Sylvia would rejoin them
on the following afternoon, having shortened her
stay in Salt Lake City, as her relations were about to
depart on a visit to California.
" She wants very much to go on with us," said Mrs.
Grayson, " and rather than send her either to Boise
or to our home, where she would be alone, we are
willing for her to continue."
"I should think you would be!" exclaimed Ho-
bart. "Why, Mrs. Grayson, much as we esteem you,
we would start a violent rebellion if you should send
Miss Morgan away, a rebellion attended by blood
shed and desperate deeds."
Mrs. Grayson smiled and glanced at Harley, who
was silent. But she did not fail to see the flash of
pleasure under his veiled eyelids.
"Keep your pistol in your pocket and your sword
in its sheath, Mr. Hobart," she said; "I shall not give
you occasion to use either."
"Then I declare for peace."
Sylvia joined them at the time mentioned by Mrs.
Grayson, quiet, slightly pale, and disposed, in the
opinion of the Graysons, to much thought. "The
girl has something on her mind which she cannot put
off," said Tremaine, and in this case he was right.
290
THE CANDIDATE
Sylvia, while in Salt Lake City, far from the in
fluences which recently had brought to her acute
pain and joy alike, considered her position with as
much personal detachment as she could assume.
Away from Harley and the magic of his presence and
his confident voice, she strengthened her resolve to
keep her word if "King" Plummer claimed her,
he should yet have her. But this same examination
showed her another fact that was unalterable. She
loved Harley, and, though she might marry another
man, she would continue to love him. In a way she
gloried in the truth and her recognition of it. It
was a love she intended to hide, but it brought her
a sad happiness nevertheless.
It was this feeling, spiritual in its nature, that gave
to Sylvia a new charm when she came back, a touch
of sorrow and womanly dignity that all noticed at
once, and to which they gave tribute. It melted the
heart of Jimmy Grayson, who knew so well the rea
son why, and he was glad now that his wife had
written to "King" Plummer.
Sylvia said nothing about Mr. Plummer; if she
knew whether he would return and when, she kept
it to herself, and Mrs. Grayson, who was waiting in
anxiety for an answer to her letter an answer that did
not come was in a state of apprehension, which she
hid, however, from all except Mr. Grayson. This
agitation was increased by, an event in her husband's
career, so unexpected in its nature and so extraor
dinary that it was the sensation of the country, and
exercised an unfavorable influence upon the cam
paign. If any one in the United States, whether
friend or enemy, had been asked if such a thing
could occur, he would have said that it was im
possible.
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In their travels they came presently to Egmont, a
snug town, lying in a hollow of the land, from which
they were going to conduct what Hobart called a
circular campaign that is, it was the centre from
which they were to make journeys to a ring of small
er places lying in a circle about it, returning late at
night for sleep and rest.
They were all pleased with Egmont; though less
than ten years old, it had houses of brick and stone,
a trim look, and the smoothness of life and comfort
that usually come only with age. It was a pleasure
to return to it every night from the newer and
cruder villages in the outer ring, and enjoy good
beds and fresh sheets.
But the candidate spoke first in Egmont, and the
chairman of the committee that managed the meet
ing was the solid man of the town. Harley and his
comrades required no information on this point; it
was visible at once in the important manner of the
Honorable John Anderson, the cool way in which
he assumed authority, and his slight air of patronage
when he came in contact with the correspondents.
Harley and his comrades only laughed ; they had often
noticed the same bearing in men much better known
in the world than the Honorable John Anderson, of
Egmont, Montana, and they generally set it down
as one of the faults of success; therefore they could
smile.
But Mr. Anderson was hospitable, insisting that
the candidate and his family, instead of spending
the first night at the hotel, should go with him to his
house. "I have room and to spare," he said, with
a slight touch of importance. "My house will be
honored if it can shelter to-night the next President
of the United States."
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"Thank you for the invitation," said Jimmy
Grayson, gravely. "I shall be glad to join you with
my family and Mr. Harley. Mr. Harley has become
in a sense one of my advisers, almost a lieutenant, I
might say."
Mr. Anderson was not intending to ask Harley,
as the correspondent knew, but the candidate had
included him so deftly that the important citizen
must do so, too, and he widened the invitation with
courtesy. Harley, always in search of new types,
always anxious to explore the secrets of new lands,
accepted as promptly as if the request had been
spontaneous.
Although his house was only a few hundred yards
away, Mr. Anderson took them there in his two-
seated, highly polished carriage, drawn by a pair of
seal-brown trotters. "Good horses," he said, as he
cracked his whip contentedly over them. " I brought
them all the way from Kentucky. Cost me a lot, too."
The Anderson house was really fine, built of light
stone, standing far back on a wide lawn, and Harley
could see that the good taste of some one had pre
sided at its birth. It had an Eastern air of quiet
and completion. When Mr. Anderson, glancing at
his guests, beheld the look of approval on their faces,
he was pleased, and said, in an easy, off-hand manner:
"Been up only four years; planned it myself, with
a little help from wife and daughter."
Harley at once surmised that the good effect was
due to the taste of the wife or daughter, or both, and
he was confirmed in the opinion when he met Mrs.
Anderson, a slight, modest woman, superior to her
husband in some respects that Harley thought im
portant. The daughter did not appear until just be
fore dinner, but when she came into the parlor to
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THE CANDIDATE
meet the guest the correspondent held his breath
for a moment.
Rare and beautiful flowers bloom now and then on
the cold plain$ of the great Northwest, and Harley
said in his heart that Helen Anderson was one of the
rarest and most beautiful of them all. It was not
alone the beauty of face and figure, but it was, even
more, the nobility of expression and a singular touch
of pathos, as if neither youth nor beauty had kept
from her a great sadness. This almost hidden note
of sorrow seemed to Harley to make perfect her
grace and charm, and he felt, stranger though he
was, that he was willing to sacrifice himself to pro
tect her from some blow unknown to him. Speaking
of it afterwards, he found that she had the same ef
fect upon the candidate. "I felt that I must be her
champion," said Mr. Grayson. "Why, I did not
know, but I wanted to fight for her."
Miss Anderson herself was unconscious of the im
pression that she created, and she strove only to enter
tain her father's guests, a task in which she achieved
the full measure of success. Mr. Anderson men
tioned, casually, how he had sent her to Wellesley,
and Harley saw that her horizon was wider than
that of her parents. But the pathetic, appealing
look came now and then into her beautiful eyes, and
Harley was convinced of her unhappiness. Once he
saw a sudden glance, as of sympathy and understand
ing, pass between her and Sylvia.
It was not long before the secret of Helen Anderson
was told to him, because it was no secret at all. The
whole town was proud of her, and everybody in it
knew that she was in love with Arthur Lee, the
young lawyer whose sign hung on the main street of
Egmont before an office which was yet unvisited
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THE CANDIDATE
by clients. It was true love on both sides, they
said, with sympathy; they had been boy and girl
together, and during her long stay in the East at
school she had never forgotten him. But Mr. An
derson would have none of the briefless youth; his
prosperity had fed his pride a lawyer without a case
was not a fit match for his daughter. "If you were
famous, if it were common talk that some day you
might be governor or United States senator, I might
consent, but, sir, you have done nothing," he had
said, with cruel sarcasm to Lee.
It was a bitter truth, and Lee himself, high and
honorable in all his nature, saw it. The girl, too,
had old-fashioned ideas of duty to parents, and when
her father bade her think no more of Lee she hum
bly bowed her head. But the town said, and the
town knew, that the more she sought to put him
out of her heart, the more strongly intrenched was
he there; that while she now tried to think of him
not at all, she thought of him all the time.
The whole story was brought to Harley ; it was not
in his nature to pry into the sacred mysteries of a
young girl's heart, but the tale moved him all the
more deeply when he saw young Lee, a man with a
high, noble brow and clear, open eyes, through which
his honest soul shone, that all might see. But upon
his face was the same faint veil of sadness that hov
ered over Helen Anderson's, as if hope were lacking.
Harley met young Lee two or three times, and on
each occasion purposely prolonged the talk, because
the young lawyer without a case aroused his inter
est and sympathy. He soon discovered that Lee had
an uncommon mind, acute, penetrating, and on fire
with noble ideals. But it was a fire that smouldered
unseen. He had never had a chance; it would come
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to him some day, Harley knew, but it might be, it
surely would be, too late. Harley had seen much of
the world, its glory and its shame alike, and he was
convinced that nothing else in it was worth so much
to man as the spontaneous love of a pure woman and
a happy marriage. He knew from dear experience
how much Lee was losing nay, had lost already and
his pity was deeply stirred. He wished to speak of
it to Sylvia, but the thought of such words only made
his own wound the deeper. The whole town was on
the side of the lovers, but it was bound and helpless ;
the father's command and Lee's own honor were
barriers that could not be passed.
The people about Egmont were so much delighted
with Mr. Grayson's speech that they demanded a
second from him, and, with his usual good-nature,
he yielded, although Harley knew that he was feel
ing the strain of such a long and severe campaign.
The evening of the fifth day after his arrival was set
for the time, and he was expected to deliver the ad
dress at a late hour, when he returned from one of
the circle of villages.
On the night before the second speech, the can
didate and Harley, who were now staying at the
hotel, after making their excuses to the others, slipped
out for a walk in the cool and silence of the dark.
The rarest thing in Jimmy Grayson's life now was
privacy, and he longed for it as a parched throat
longs for water; it was only at such times as this,
with a late hour and a favoring night, that he could
secure it.
Nearly all Egmont was in bed, and they turned
from the chief street into the residence quarter, where
a few lights twinkled amid the lawns and gardens.
No one had noticed them, and Jimmy Grayson, with
796
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a sigh of relief, drew breaths of the crisp, cool air that
came across a thousand miles of clean prairie.
" What a splendid night!" he said. "What a grand
horizon!"
They stood upon a slight elevation, and they look
ed down the street and out upon the prairie, which
rippled away, silver in the moonlight, like the waves
of the sea. A wind, faint, like a happy sigh, was
blowing.
"An evening for lovers," said the candidate, and
he smiled as his mind ran back to some happy even
ings in his own life. "Now, why should such a
moonlight as this ever be spoiled by a political
speech?" he continued.
"I was thinking of lovers myself," said Harley,
"because here is the Anderson house before us.
Don't you see its white walls shining through the
trees?"
"Poor girl!" said the candidate. "It is a terrible
thing for a woman to be separated from the man she
loves. A woman, I think, can really love but once.
And yet her father's pride is natural ; young Lee has
not even made a start in life."
"All he needs is a chance, which he will get
when it is too late," said Harley.
The house and its grounds, surrounded by a stone
wall not more than three feet high, occupied an en
tire square in the outskirts of the little city, and the
candidate and Harley followed the least frequented
of the streets one running beside the stone wall,
which was shaded presently by thick and arching
boughs of trees that grew within. As they entered
the shadow they saw a man leap over the low bar
rier and disappear in the Anderson grounds.
"A burglar!" exclaimed Harley. His first thought
297
THE CANDIDATE
was of Helen Anderson and her beautiful, appealing
face, and without a moment's hesitation he sprang
over the wall to pursue. Jimmy Gray son looked at
him in astonishment, and then followed.
Harley stopped for an instant inside the grounds,
and saw the dark figure just ahead of him, but now
walking with such slowness that pursuit was easy.
Evidently the burglar was making sure of the way
before he sought to enter the Anderson mansion ; but
Harley was surprised, in a few moments, to notice
something familiar in the shoulders and bearing of
the man whom he followed. His burglar never look
ed back, but entered an open space; and then Harley,
his surprise increasing, stopped when he saw him ap
proach a little summer-house of lattice-work. The
hand of the candidate fell at that moment upon his
arm, and a deep voice said in his ear:
"I think we have gone far enough, don't you,
Harley?"
"I do," replied Harley, with conviction.
A woman was coming, a woman with a beautiful,
pale face, more lovely and sad than ever in the moon
light, and the two men knew at once that Helen was
about to meet her lover. They would have turned
and fled from the grounds, because a woman's pure
love was sacred, to be hidden from all eyes and ears
save those of one, but her face was towards them,
and had they stepped from the shadow of the oak
she would have seen the two.
"Ah, Helen!" said Lee, as he met her and took
her hands in his.
"Arthur, for the last time!" she exclaimed.
"Yes, I know it is for the last time," said Arthur,
and there was a moving sadness in his voice.
Their faces were turned towards the two there in
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THE CANDIDATE
the shadow of the great oak, although unwitting that
others were so near, and neither man dared to move.
The moonlight, in softened silver, fell upon the faces
of the lovers, disclosing all the beauty of the wom
an's and all the loftiness of the man's. Harley
thought he had never seen a nobler pair.
The man took both the girl's hands in his and held
them for a few moments. Then he walked back
and forth, taking quick little steps. Every motion
of his figure expressed agony and despair. The girl
stood still, and her face, clearly shown in the moon
light, was turned towards Harley; it, too, expressed
agony and despair; but her stillness showed resigna
tion, Lee's fierce movements were full of rebellion.
"I am going away, Helen," said Arthur. "I have
decided upon it. I shall not be here more than a
week or two longer. I cannot be in the same town,
seeing you every day and knowing that you cannot
be mine. I could not stand it."
"I suppose it is best," said Helen; "but, Arthur,
I love you. I have told you that, and I am proud
of it. I shall never love any one else. It is not pos
sible."
Her beautiful, pale face was still turned towards
Harley, and he saw again upon it that touch of in
effable sadness and resignation that had moved him
so deeply. Lee stopped his despairing walk back
and forth and looked at Helen. Then he uttered a
little cry and seized her hands again.
"Helen," he said, "I cannot do it! I came here
to give you up forever, to tell you that I was going
away, and I meant to go, but I cannot do it. We
love each other then who has the right to separate
us ? I thought that I could stand this, that I had hard
ened myself to endure it, but when the time comes
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I find that it is too much. My right to you is greater
than that of father or mother. Come with me; we
can go to Longford to-night, and in three hours we
shall be man and wife."
He still held her hands in his, and his face was
flushed and his eyes shining with an eager but noble
passion.
Harley and the candidate, in the shrubbery, never
stirred. They listened, but they forgot that they
were listening.
The girl lifted her eyes to those of her lover, and
there was in them no reproach, only a high, sad
courage.
"You do not mean what you say now, Arthur,"
she said. "I have given my promise to my father,
and you must help me to be strong, for alone I am
weak, very weak. None can help me but you. You
must go, as you said you would go, but your face shall
always be with me here. Though I may not be
your wife, I shall be true to you all my life."
"In such moments as these the woman is always
stronger than the man," breathed Jimmy Gray son.
Lee dropped her hands again and walked a step
or two away.
"Helen," he said, "forgive me, and forget what I
said. I was base when I spoke. But I have found
it too hard! too hard!"
Her eyes still expressed no reproach; there was in
them something almost divine. She loved him the
more because of his weakness, although she would
not yield to it.
"It is hard, very hard for us both," she whispered,
"but it must be done. But, Arthur, I love you. I
have told you that, and I am not ashamed of it. I
shall never love any one else. It is not possible."
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" I know it. I know, too, that your heart will al
ways be mine, but, as the world sees it, your father
is right. I am nothing. I have no right to a wife
above all, to one such as you. I feel that I have a
power within me, the power to do things which the
world would call good, but there is no chance. I
suppose that the chance will come some day when
it is too late."
Harley started. The words were the echo of his
own. "We must go," he whispered to the candi
date. "No one has a right to listen, even without
intention, at this, their last meeting." Jimmy Gray-
son had already turned away, and by the faint moon
light sifting through the branches Harley saw a mist
in his eyes. But their movement made a sound, and
the lovers looked up.
" Did you hear a noise ? What was it ?" asked Helen.
"Only a lizard in the grass or a squirrel rattling
the bark of a tree," replied Arthur.
They listened a moment, but they heard nothing
more, save the faint stirring of the wind among the
leaves and the grass.
"Are you really going, Arthur?" asked Helen, as
if, approving it once, she would like now to hear him
deny it.
He looked at her, his face flushing and his eyes
alight, as if at last he heard her ask him to stay ; but
he saw in her gaze only brave resolve. She could
love him, and yet she had the strength to sacrifice
that love for what she considered her duty. He
drew courage from her, and he lifted his head proud
ly, although his eyes expressed grief alone.
"Yes, I have only to start," he replied; "you know
I have little to take. I make just one more public
appearance in Egmont. Mr. Grayson speaks here
301
again to-morrow night, and the committee, by some
chance a chance it must have been has put me on
the list of speakers."
"Oh, Arthur, it may be an opportunity for you!"
She was eager, flushed, her eyes flaming and up
lifted to his.
"It might be, Helen, at any other time, but this is
evil fortune. I am of the other party ; I must speak
against him we are fair to both sides here; he will
have the right of rejoinder, and you know what he
is, Helen the greatest orator in America, perhaps in
all the world. No one yet has ever been able to de
feat him, and what chance have I, with no expe
rience, against the most formidable debater in exist
ence ? I should shirk it, Helen, if the people would
not think me a coward."
"Oh, Arthur, what an ordeal!" She looked up at
him with wet, tender eyes.
Harley, at the mention of Jimmy Grayson's name,
glanced away from the lovers and towards the can
didate. He saw him start, and a singular, soft ex
pression pass over his face, to be followed by one of
doubt.
"Now I shall go, Helen," said Arthur. "It was
wrong of me to ask you to meet me here, but I could
not go away without seeing you alone and speaking
to you alone, as I do now."
"I was glad to come."
He took her hands again, and for a few moments
they stood, gazing into each other's eyes, where they
saw all the grief of a last parting. Harley wished to
turn his gaze away, but, somehow, he could not.
There was silence in the grounds, save that gentle,
sighing sound of the wind through the leaves and
grass, and only the moon looked down.
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THE CANDIDATE
Suddenly the youth bent his head, kissed the girl
on the lips, and then ran swiftly through the shrub
bery, as if he could not bear to hesitate or look
back.
"It was their first kiss," murmured Harley.
"I did not see it," said Jimmy Grayson, turning
his eyes away.
"And their last," murmured Harley.
The girl stood like a statue, still deadly pale, but
Harley saw that her eyes were luminous. It was the
man whom she loved who had taken her first kiss;
nothing could alter that beautiful fact. She listened,
as if she could hear his last retreating footstep on
the grass dying away like an echo. Harley and
the candidate watched her until her slender figure
in the white draperies was hid by the house, and then
they, too, went back to the street.
Neither spoke until they passed the low stone wall,
and then the candidate said, brusquely: ,
" Harley, unless this moonlight deceives me, there
is moisture on your eyelids. What do you mean by
such unmanly weakness?"
Harley smiled, but, refraining from the tu quoque,
left Jimmy Grayson to lead the way, and he noticed
that he chose a course that did not take them back
to the hotel. Moreover, he did not speak again for
a long time, and Harley walked on by his side, silent,
too, but thoughtful and keenly observant. He saw
that his friend was troubled, and he divined the great
struggle that was going on in his mind. Whether he
could do it if he were in the place of the candidate
he was unable to say, and he was glad that the de
cision did not lie with himself.
They walked on and on until they left the town
and were out upon the broad prairie, where the wind
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THE CANDIDATE
moaned in a louder key, and the candidate's face was
still troubled.
"Harley," said the candidate, at last, "I cannot
get rid of the look in that girl's eyes."
"I do not wish to do so," said Harley.
It was nearly midnight when he turned and began
to walk back towards the town. The moonlight,
breaking through a cloud, again flooded Jimmy Gray-
son's face, and Harley, who knew him so well, saw
that the look of trouble had passed. The lips were
compressed and firm, and in his eyes shone the clear
light of decision. Harley's feelings, as he saw, were
mingled, a strange compound of elation and appre
hension. But at the hotel he said, gravely, "Good
night," and the candidate replied with equal serious
ness, "Good-night." Neither referred to what they
had seen nor to what they expected.
The second speech at Egmont drew an even great
er audience than the first, as the fame of Jimmy Gray-
son's powers spread fast, and there would be, too,
the added spice of combat; members of the other
party would accept his challenge, replying to his
logic if they could, and the hall was crowded early
with eager people. Harley, sitting at the back of
the stage, saw the Honorable John Anderson come
in, importantly, his wife under one arm and his
daughter under the other. Helen looked paler than
ever, but here under the electric lights her sad love
liness made the same appeal to Harley. Lee arrived
late, and although, as one of the speakers, he was
forced to sit on the stage, he hid himself behind the
others. But a single glance passed between the
two, and then the girl sat silent and pale, hoping
against hope for her lover.
The candidate spoke well. His voice was as deep
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and as musical as ever, and his sentences rolled as
smoothly as before. All his charm and magnetism
of manner were present ; the old spell which he threw
over everybody a spell which was from the heart
and the manner as well as from the meaning of his
words was not lacking, but to Harley, keenly at
tentive, there seemed to be a flaw in his logic. The
reasoning was not as clear and compact as usual.
Only a man with a penetrating, analytical mind would
observe it, but there were openings here and there
where his armor could be pierced. Blaisdell, one of
the correspondents, noticed the fact, and he whis
pered to Harley:
"It's a good thing that Jimmy Grayson has no
great speaker against him to-night; I never knew
him to wander from the point before."
"Where's your great speaker?" asked Harley, with
irony.
But the crowded audience was oblivious. It heard
only the music of the candidate's voice and felt
only the spell of his manner; therefore, it was with
a sort of contempt that it looked upon Lee, the young
lawyer without a case, who rose to reply. Lee was
pale, but there was a fire in his eyes, as if he, too,
had noticed something, and Harley, observing, caught
his breath sharply.
The correspondent again looked down at the girl,
and he saw a deep flush sweep over her face, and then,
passing, leave it deadly pale. The next moment she
averted her eyes as if she would not see the failure
of her lover, not the less dear to her because he was
about to go away forever. But though he did not
see her face now, Harley, as he looked at the bent head,
could read her mind. He knew that she was quiver
ing; he knew that she, too, had been completely un-
THE CANDIDATE
der the spell of the candidate's great voice and man
ner, and she feared the painful contrast.
Harley glanced once at Jimmy Grayson, sitting
quietly, all expression dismissed from his face, and
then he looked back at the girl; she should receive
all his attention now. Presently he saw her raise
her head, the color returned to her face, and a sud
den look of wonder and hope appeared in her eyes.
Arthur was speaking, not timidly, not like one beat
en, but in a strong, clear voice, and with a logic that
was keen and merciless he drove straight at the weak
points in the candidate's address. Even Harley was
surprised at his skill and penetration.
The correspondent watched Helen, and he read
every step of her lover's progress in her eyes. The
wonder and hope there grew, and the hope turned
to delight. She looked up at her father, as if to tell
him how much he had misjudged Arthur, and that
here, in truth, was the beginning of greatness; and
the important man, as he felt her eyes upon him,
moved uneasily in his seat.
The feelings of the audience were mingled, but
among them amazement led all the rest. The great
Jimmy Grayson, the Presidential nominee, the un
conquerable, the man of world-wide fame, the victor
of every campaign, was being beaten by a young
townsman of their own, not known twenty miles
from home. Incredible as it seemed, it was true ; the
fact was patent to the dullest in the hall. Harley
saw a look of astonishment and then dismay over
spread the faces of Mrs. Grayson and Sylvia, and he
knew that of all in the hall they were suffering most
acutely.
The keen, cutting voice went on, tearing Jimmy
Grayson's argument to pieces, clipping off a section
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here and a section there, and tossing the fragments
aside. By - and - by the amazement of the people
gave way to delight. Their home pride was touched.
This boy of their own was doing what no other had
ever been able to do. They began to thunder forth
applause, and the women waved their handkerchiefs.
Hobart leaned over and whispered to Harley:
"Old man, what does this mean? Is Jimmy
Gray son sick?"
"He was never better than he is to-night."
Hobart gave him an inquiring look.
"I'll ask more about this later," he said.
But Harley already had turned his attention back
to Helen, and as he watched the growing joy on her
face his own heart responded. It was relief, elation,
that he felt now, and, for the moment, no appre
hension. He saw the color yet flushing her cheeks,
and the eyes alight with life and joy. He saw her
suddenly clasp her father's arm in both hands, and,
though he was too far away to hear, he knew well
that she was telling him what a great man Arthur
was going to be. For her all obstacles were driven
away by this sudden flood of fortune, and Harley
again saw the important man move uneasily while
a look, half fear, half shame, came into his eyes.
The speech was finished, and young Lee, a man
now on a pedestal, sat down amid thunders of ap
plause. Jimmy Grayson undertook to respond, but
for the first time in his life he was weak and halting.
He wandered on lamely, and at last retired amid faint
cheers, to be followed quickly by an astonished silence.
Then, when the people recovered themselves, they
poured in a tumult from the hall; but the hero to
whom they turned admiringly was Arthur Lee, their
own youthful townsman, and not the candidate.
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The next day Hobart told Harley that Lee had
won everything. Mr. Anderson, sharing the pride
of Egmont, could resist no longer, and had with
drawn his refusal. Arthur and Helen would be mar
ried in the winter.
"You see, "said Hobart, " young Lee is now ahero."
"But not the greatest hero," said Harley.
"That is true," said Hobart, and then he added,
after a moment's pause, " I could never have done it."
But that night, when Jimmy Grayson left the hall,
he went at once to the hotel with Mrs. Grayson.
Luckily there was a side-door, out of which they slip
ped so quietly and quickly that not many people
had a chance either to pity him or to exult over
him, at least in his presence. Yet he did not fail to
notice more than one sneer on the faces of those who
belonged to the other party, and his cheeks burned
for a moment, as James Grayson, the candidate, had
his full store of human pride.
In the hall the amazed crowd lingered, and the
correspondents, not less surprised than the people,
gathered in a group to talk it over. Sylvia was there,
too, and she was almost in tears. To none had the
blow been harder than to her, and she was so stunned
that she could yet scarcely credit it. All of the group
were sad except Churchill, who felt all the glory of
an I-told-you-so come to judgment.
"It was bound to happen, sooner or later," he
said, when he noticed that Sylvia was not listening;
" the man is all froth and foam, but who could have
thought that the bubble would be pricked by an ob
scure little Western attorney? Was ever anything
more ignominious?"
Then the ancient beau, Tremaine, spoke from a
soul that was stirred to the depths,
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"Churchill," he exclaimed, "I've been travelling
about the world forty years, but there are times when
I think you are the meanest man I ever met."
Churchill flushed and clinched his fist, but thought
better of it, and turned off the matter with an un
easy laugh.
"Tremaine," he said, "the older you grow the
fonder you become of superlatives."
"I admired Jimmy Grayson in his triumphs, and
I admire him more than ever in his defeat," said
Tremaine, still bristling, and fiercely twisting his
short, gray mustache.
"Mr. Tremaine, I want to thank you," said Sylvia,
who, turning to them, had heard Tremaine's warm
speech; and she put her hand in his for a moment,
which was to him ample repayment.
Harley stood by, and was silent because he did not
know what to say. To state that Mr. Grayson had
allowed himself to be beaten for a purpose would have
an incredible look in print it would seem the poor
est of excuses ; nor did he wish to make use of it in
the presence of Churchill, who would certainly jeer
at it and present it in his despatches as a ridiculous
plea. He had begun to have a certain sensitiveness
in regard to the candidate, and he did not wish to be
forced into a quarrel with Churchill.
But Sylvia caught a slight smile, a smile of irony,
in the eyes of Harley, and the tears in her own dried
up at once. She felt instinctively, with all the quick
ness of a woman's intuition, that Harley knew some
thing about the speech which she did not know, but
she meant to know it, and she watched for an op
portunity.
They were turning out the lights in the hall and
the people began to go away, the correspondents
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closing up the rear. Sylvia fell back with Harley,
and touched his arm lightly.
"There is something! that you are not telling me,"
she said.
" I am willing to tell it to you, because you will be
lieve it."
Tremaine, with ever-ready gallantry, was about
to join them, but Sylvia said:
"I thank you, Mr. Tremaine, but Mr. Harley has
promised to see me to the hotel."
Her tone was light, but so decisive that Tremaine
turned back at once, and Hobart, who was ahead,
hid a smile.
"Now, I want to know what it is," she said, eager
ly, to Harley. "That was a good speaker, an able
man, but I don't believe that he or anybody else
could beat Uncle James. How did it happen?"
Harley did not answer her at once, because it
seemed to him just then that the action of Jimmy
Grayson was an illustration, and the idea was hot in
his mind.
"Perhaps there is nothing to tell, after all," she
said, and her face fell.
"There is something to tell; I hesitated because I
was looking for the best way to tell it. Mr. Gray-
son to-night made a sacrifice of himself, purposely
and willingly."
"A sacrifice of himself! How could he have done
such a thing?"
" For the best reason that makes a man do such a
thing. For love."
She stared at him a moment, and then broke into
a puzzled but ironic laugh.
"You are certainly dreaming a romance. Uncle
James and Aunt Anna have been happily married
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for years, and there is nothing now that could force
him to make such a sacrifice."
Harley smiled, and his smile was rarely tender,
because he was thinking at that moment of Sylvia.
"The sacrifice was not to help his own cause, but
the cause of another, the cause of the man who beat
him that is, seemed to beat him. Mr. Lee, through
his victory to-night, wins the girl whom he loves,
and he could have won her in no other way. There
are people who can do great deeds and make great
sacrifices for love, even to help the love of two others.
It will be printed in every paper of the United States
in the morning that Mr. Grayson was defeated in
debate to-night by a young local lawyer. His pres
tige will be greatly impaired."
Her eyes glowed, and her face, too, became rarely
tender.
"Uncle James was truly great to-night!" she ex
claimed.
"At his greatest. I know of no other man who
could have done it. After all, Sylvia, don't you
think love is the greatest and purest of motives, and
that we should consider it first?"
"John," she said, and it was the first time that
she had ever called him by his first name, "you
must not tempt me to break my sacred word to the
man to whom I owe all things. Oh, John, don't you
see how hard it is for me, and won't you help me to
bear it, instead of making the burden heavier?"
She turned upon him a face of such pathetic ap
peal that Harley was abashed.
"Sylvia," he replied, almost in a whisper, "God
knows that I do not wish to make you unhappy, nor
do I wish to make you do what is wrong. I spoke
so because I could not help it. Do you think that I
3"
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can love you, and know you to be what you are, and
then stand idly by and see you passing to another ? I
believe in silence and endurance, but not in such
silence and endurance as that. It is too much!
God never asks it of a man!"
She looked at him. Her eyes were dewy and ten
der, filled with love, a love tinged with sorrow, but
he saw the brave resolution shining there, and he
knew that, despite all, she would keep her word un
less "King" Plummer himself willingly released her
from it. And he loved her all the more because she
was so true.
"Sylvia," he said, "I was wrong. I should not
have spoken to you in such a manner. I am a weak
coward to make your duty all the harder for you."
They were at the "ladies' entrance" of the hotel,
and the others either had gone in or had turned aside.
They were alone, and she bent a little towards him.
"The things that you say may be wrong," she
whispered, "but oh, John I love to hear you say
them!"
Then she went into the hotel, and Harley wisely
did not seek to follow.
XIX
AN IDAHO STORM
AdONG the mountains of Idaho, a dark storm-
cloud, ribbed with flashes of steel-edged light
ning, was growing. For thirty years "King" Plum-
mer had lived a life after his own mind, and it had
been a very free life. In four or five states he was a
real monarch, and there was nothing at all derisive
about his nickname. At fifty he was at his mental
and physical zenith, never before had he felt so
strong, both in body and mind, so capable of doing
great deeds, and with so keen a zest in life. The
blood flowed in a rich, red tide through his veins, and
he breathed the breath of morning like a youth.
To this big, strong man, rioting in the very ful
ness of life, came Mrs. Grayson's letter. He was not
in Boise" when it arrived there, but it was forwarded
to him at a mining-camp in the very highest moun
tains. He read it early one morning sitting on a
big rock at the edge of a valley that dropped off
three thousand feet below, and first there was a
shade of annoyance on his face, to be followed by a
frown, which gave way in its turn to an angry red
flush.
But while the shade of annoyance was still on his
face the "King" asked, "What is she driving at?"
and then, when it was replaced by the frown, he
muttered, "Why does she waste so much time on
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Harley and a marriage for him?" and then, when the
red flush came, he exclaimed, "Damn the Eastern
kid!" In the mind of "King" Plummer everybody
who did not live west of the Missouri River was
Eastern.
He read the letter over four or five times, and it
sank deeper and deeper into his soul, and as it sank
it burned like fire. All that he had feared, but
which he had refused to believe when he came away,
was true. Sylvia did not love him, but she loved
that raw youngster Harley. And here was Mrs.
Grayson, the wife of a man who was under obliga
tions to him, whom he could ruin, hinting that he
give her up, and she a woman whom he had sup
posed to be endowed with at least ordinary intel
ligence.
In his wrath, which was mighty, " King" Plummer
swore at the whole tribe of women as fickle, heart
less creatures. Then he rose to his feet, clinched his
fist, shook it at the opposite mountain across the
valley, and swore aloud at all creation. And " King"
Plummer knew how to swear; he was no mealy-
mouthed man; his had been a wild and tumultuous
youth, and though he would never use oaths in the
presence of Sylvia, he could still, in the seclusion of
mountain or desert, let fly an imprecating volley that
would burn the rocks themselves. It was apparent
to some miners coming up the slope that their chief
was no extinct volcano, and they wisely passed in
silence on the other side.
For the present there was little grief in the
"King's" outpouring; the tide of wrath was too full
and sparkling to be tinged yet awhile by other cur
rents, and just now it flowed most against Mrs.
Grayson, who had been bold enough to tell him
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what he was least willing to hear. His heart, too,
was full of unspoken threats, as "King" Plummer
was a passionate man who had lived a rough life,
close to the ground, and full of primitive emotions.
And the threats he expressed in words were such as
these: "They shall pay for it!" "I helped put that
husband of hers where he is, I helped make him, and
I can help unmake him; and, by thunder, I will do
it, too!" In the hour of his wrath he hated Jimmy
Grayson, and his head was filled with sudden schemes.
He would "teach the man what it was to play the
King of the Mountains for a sucker," and, still raging,
he cast from him all the ties of party and association.
Within an hour he was on his swiftest horse, rid
ing furiously towards Boise", his heart full of anger
and his head full of plans for revenge.
Nor was he sparing in speech when he reached
Boise. His words cracked so loud that the echo of
them travelled several hundred miles and reached
Mrs. Grayson, who was waiting vainly for a reply to
a letter that she had written nearly two weeks be
fore. Now, no reply was necessary, because this news
was what she had feared, but which she had hoped
would not come.
The report was winged and full of alarms. " King"
Plummer, shooting out of the mountains like a can
non-ball, had made his appearance in the streets of
Boise, openly denouncing Jimmy Grayson, calling
him a traitor, and saying that he would beat him if
he had to ruin himself to do it. What had caused
this sudden change nobody knew, but it must be
something astonishing, and it behooved the candi
date to explain himself quickly.
The loyal soul of the candidate's wife flashed back
an angry reply across the five hundred miles of
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mountain and desert. If "King" Plummet was not
the man she had hoped he was, then they preferred
that they should fight him rather than have him as
a false friend. Yet there was in her heart a throb
of admiration for him, because he was willing to
throw everything overboard for the love of a woman.
The defection clothed the whole train in the deep
est gloom. Tremaine spoke for the group when he
said it was all up with Jimmy Grayson, and the
others did not have the heart even to pretend to a
different belief. With a Plummer defection on one
side and a Goodnight falling away on the other, there
was no hope left for a party which even with these
wings faithful had only a desperate fighting chance.
Harley was thoroughly miserable. He could guess
no, he did not guess, he knew the cause of "King"
Plummer's bolt, and he knew, too, that if it were
not for himself it would never have occurred; he
had wrecked all the future of others, nor in making
such a wreck had he secured his own happiness,
provided even that he was selfish enough to be happy
when others were ruined.
Sylvia, too, was sunk in the depths. She did not
have to be told that her aunt had written to Mr.
Plummer; she guessed that Mr. Plummer had re
ceived some warning, some message, it did not mat
ter from whom, nothing else could cause him to
burst forth with such violence, and the very nature
of the case forbade her from speaking; she could only
keep silent, knowing that significant talk was going
on all around her, and pass sleepless nights and
troubled days.
The situation brought a thrill of satisfaction and
interest to one man on the train, and he was Church
ill. The cumulative effect of "King" Plummer's
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bolt might force Jimmy Gray son off the track, and
it was not yet too late to put up another candidate.
Such a thing had never been done, but that was no
reason why it could not succeed, and he telegraphed
Mr. Goodnight that Mr. Grayson was very despond
ent, and that those about him knew he did not have
a ghost of a chance.
Churchill guessed close to the cause of the Plummer
bolt, but he was not sure, and for that and other rea
sons he at once sought an interview with the nominee.
Mr. Grayson was courteous, and seemingly not as
despondent as Churchill had described him. He
said that he could not speak of Mr. Plummer's de
fection, because he had no official knowledge of the
fact; it was merely report, and hence he could not
comment on what was not proved. Mr. Churchill,
he knew, would readily recognize the unfitness of
such a thing, nor could he tell what he should do in
supposititious cases, because, even if the latter came
true, circumstances might give them another ap
pearance.
Churchill skirmished as delicately as he could about
the subject of Sylvia and the surmise that she was
the key to the situation, which, if true, would make
one of the greatest stories told in a newspaper; but
here the candidate was impervious. Not only was he
impervious, but he seemed to be densely ignorant;
all the hints of Churchill glided off him like arrows
from a steel breast-plate, all the most delicate and
skilful art of the interviewer failed. So far as con
cerned the subject of politics, Sylvia was unknown
to Mr. Grayson. Baffled upon this interesting point,
Churchill retired to write his interview; but as he
rested his pad upon the car -seat and sharpened his
pencil he flung out a feeler or two.
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"I say, Hobart," he said to the mystery man, who
sat just in front of him, "I think there's something
at the bottom of this Plummer revolt that we haven't
probed. Now, isn't it the truth that Miss Morgan
has thrown him over, and that he is taking his re
venge on her uncle?"
Hobart glanced up the car, and noticed that Har-
ley was not within hearing. Then he replied, gravely:
"Churchill, I don't believe that Miss Morgan has
broken her engagement with the 'King' she'll
marry him yet if he says so but I do believe that
she has some connection with this affair. What it
is, I don't know, and I'm mighty glad that I don't
have to speak of it in my despatches; it's too in
tangible."
But Churchill was not so scrupulous. Without
giving any names, he wove into his four-thousand-
word despatch a very beautiful and touching ro
mance, in which Jimmy Grayson figured rather badly
in fact, somewhat as an evil genius and the
Monitor, dealing in the fine vein of irony which it
considered its strongest card, wrote scornfully of a
campaign into which personal issues were obtruding
to such an extent that they were shattering it. The
Monitor still affected to see some good in Mr. Gray-
son, but put the bad in such high relief that the
good merely set it off, like those little patches that
ladies wear on their faces. And the mystery of the
Plummer bolt, involving a young and beautiful wom
an, just hinted at in the despatches, heightened the
effect of the story. "King" Plummer himself ap
peared to the reading public as a martyr, and even
to many old partisans party rebellion seemed in this
case honorable and heroic.
For a day or so Harley scarcely spoke to anv one,
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and, as far as was possible within the limited confines
of a train, he avoided Sylvia. He did not wish to
see her, because he was strengthening himself to
carry out a great resolution which he meant to take.
In this crisis he turned to only one person, and that
was Mr. Heathcote, who he felt would give him ad
vice that was right and true.
When Harley told Mr. Heathcote of his purpose,
the committeeman's face became grave, but he said,
" It is the hard thing for you to do, although it is the
best thing." An hour later, Harley sent to his
editor in New York a despatch, asking to be recalled;
he said there had arisen personal reasons which would
make him valueless for the rest of the campaign, and
he felt that the Gazette would be the gainer if he
were transferred to another field of activity.
Harley felt a deep pang, and he did not attempt
to disguise it from himself, when he sent this tele
gram, but after it was gone his conscience came to
his relief, although he still avoided the presence of
Sylvia with great care. But the pang was repeated
many times, as he sat silent among his companions
and calculated how he could leave them that night
and get a train for New York in the morning.
He was still sitting among them about the twilight
hour when the conductor handed him a telegraphic
despatch, and Harley knew that it was from his
editor, who had a high appreciation of his merits,
both personal and professional. The message was
brief and pointed. It said: "Can't understand your
request for a transfer. Your despatches from the
campaign best work you have ever done; not only
have all news, but write from the inside; you pre
sent the candidate as he is. Have telegraphed Mr.
Gray son asking if there is any quarrel, and in
319
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reply he makes special request that you represent
Gazette with him to the end. Stay till you are sent
for, and don't bother me again."
Harley read it over a second time. Despite him
self he smiled, and he smiled because he felt a throb
ot pleasure. "Good old chief," he said, and he un
derstood now that a refusal of his request was a hope
that he had dared not utter to himself. But he knew
that he should have taken the great risk.
He showed the despatch to Mr. Heathcote, and the
committeeman was sincerely glad.
"Your editor has done his duty," he said.
Mr. Grayson did not allude to the subject, and
Harley respected his silence, although devoutly grate
ful for the reply that he had made.
Other telegrams caused by the threatened revolt
in the mountains were also passing; some of them
stopped at the house of Mr. Plummer, in Boise, and
upon the trail of one of these telegrams, a forcible
one, came a thin-faced and quiet but alert man, Mr.
Henry Crayon, who in his way was a power in both the
financial and political worlds. Mr. Crayon was per
haps the most trusted of the lieutenants of the Hon
orable Clinton Goodnight, and the two had held a
long conference before his departure for the West,
agreeing at the end of it that "it was time to make
a move, and after that move to spring a live
issue."
Mr. Crayon was fairly well informed of the causes
that agitated the soul of "King" Plummer, and as
he shot westward on a Limited Continental Express
he considered the best way of approach, inclining as
always to delicate but incisive methods. Long be
fore he reached Boise* his mind was well made up,
and he felt content because he anticipated no diffi-
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THE CANDIDATE
culty in handling the crude mountaineer, who was
unused to the ways of diplomacy.
He found the " King" in Boise, still hot and sulky.
Mr. Plummer had not heard anything in person from
the Graysons, nor had he sent any message to them,
and the mountains were full of talk about his bolt,
which was now spoken of as an accepted fact.
Mr. Crayon's first meeting with Mr. Plummer came
about in quite an accidental and easy way Mr.
Crayon saw to that and the Easterner was deferen
tial, as became one who had so little experience of the
West, who, in case he was presumptuous, was likely
to be reminded that Idaho was nearly twenty times
as large as Connecticut and twice as large as the
state of New York itself. After making himself
pleasant by humility and requests for advice, Mr.
Crayon glided warily into the subject of politics. He
disclosed to Mr. Plummer how much a powerful
faction in the party was displeased with Mr. Gray-
son, and the equally important fact that this faction
felt the necessity of speedy action of some kind.
They were at that moment in a secluded corner of
the reading-room of the chief hotel in Boise", and Mr.
Crayon had ordered a pleasant and powerful West
ern concoction which he and Mr. Plummer sipped
as they talked. The "King's" face was red, partly
with the sun and partly with the anger that still
burned him. Mr. Crayon's words fell soothingly upon
his ear Mr. Crayon had a quiet, mellow voice and
his sense of injury at the hands of Jimmy Grayson
deepened. What right had Jimmy Grayson or Jim
my Grayson's wife, which was the same thing, to
interfere in his private affairs? And it was only a
step from one's private life to one's public life. Wrong
in one, wrong in the other. Mr. Crayon, watching
ii 321
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him keenly though covertly, was pleased with the
varying expressions that passed over the unbearded
portions of the "King's" face. He read there anger,
jealousy, and revenge, and he said to himself that
he would bend this man, big and strong as he was,
to his will.
Mr. Crayon now grew bolder. He said that the
minority within the party, which, for the present,
he represented, was resolved to come to an issue
with Mr. Grayson; the destinies of a great party,
and possibly the country, could not be put in the
hands of a man who had neither the proper dignity
nor the proper sense of responsibility. Thus far he
went, and then the wily Mr. Crayon stopped to no
tice the effect.
It seemed to him to be favorable, and Mr. Crayon
was an acute man. The "King" drank a little of
his liquor and nodded his head. Yes, he had been
fooled in Jimmy Grayson, he had thought that he
was as true as steel, but there was a flaw in the steel;
Jimmy Grayson had done him a great injury, and
he was not a man who turned one cheek when the
other was smitten; he smote back with all his might,
and his own hand was pretty heavy.
Mr. Crayon smiled all things were certainly going
well; he had caught Mr. Plummer at the right mo
ment, and there was no doubt of the impression that
he was making. Then he went a little further; he
suggested that a certain important issue not hitherto
discussed in the campaign was going to be brought
up, even now they were proposing to present it in
the West, and Mr. Grayson would have to declare
himself either for or against it there was no middle
ground. Mr. Crayon again stopped and observed
the "King" with the same covert but careful glance.
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THE CANDIDATE
The face of Mr. Plummer obviously bore the stamp
of approval; moreover, he nodded, and, thus en
couraged, Mr. Crayon went further and further, tell
ing why the issue was so great, and why it must be
presented to the public without delay.
Mr. Plummer asked him to name the issue, and
when Mr. Crayon did so, without reserve, the " King's "
face once more bore the stamp of approval, and he
nodded his head again.
"If Mr. Gray son accepts the law as we lay it
down," said Mr. Crayon, with satisfaction, "he
places himself in our hands and we control him.
Our policies prevail, and, if he becomes President of
the United States, we remain the power that rules
him, and that, therefore, rules the country. If he
resists us, well, that is the end of him!"
Mr. Crayon had lighted a cigar, and as he said
"that is the end of him " he flicked off the ash with
a quick gesture that had in it the touch of finality.
Mr. Plummer said nothing, and Mr. Crayon was
content; he could do enough talking for two.
"Mr. Goodnight and other of my associates are
coming West very soon," he continued. "The vel
vet glove will be taken off, and it is high time."
Then they went forth into the streets of Boise"
and they were seen walking together by many peo
ple, to which Mr. Crayon was not averse, and in an
hour three or four local correspondents were sending
eastward vivid despatches stating that Mr. Crayon,
the representative of the conservative and dissatis
fied minority in the party, was in Boise in close con
ference with "King" Plummer, the political ruler of
the mountains. And the burden of all these de
spatches was fast-coming evil for Jimmy Grayson.
Nor was the candidate long in hearing of it. The
323
THE CANDIDATE
very next day a Bois newspaper containing a full
first-page account of it reached them, and was read
aloud to the party by Mr. Heathcote. Mr. Grayson
made no comment as it was being read, but Harley
once saw his face darken and his lips close tightly
together; this was the only sign that he gave, and it
quickly passed.
But the others were not so chary of words. The
train was full of indignant comment, and the ears of
"King" Plummer in the distance must have burned.
"I could not have believed it of him," said Mr.
Heathcote. " It is untrue to the man's whole nature,
even if he is swayed suddenly by some powerful
emotion."
Hobart glanced at Sylvia, who had withdrawn to
the far end of the car, where she was apparently
gazing at the mountains that fled by, although she
said not one word and her face was red. Nor did
Harley join in the talk, but, taking advantage of the
slight bustle caused by Mr. Grayson's retirement to
the drawing-room, he took refuge in a day car to
which their own coach was attached for the time.
That evening, while the others were at dinner, he
saw Sylvia alone.
"I ought to tell you," she said, "that I have asked
to leave the train, but my aunt has refused to con
sent to it. She says she needs me, and as I cannot
go now to my old home in Boise", it is better for me
to stay with her. I have heard that you asked to
be recalled to the East, and I honor you for it."
"Are you sorry that my request was refused?"
asked Harley.
She did not falter, although the red in her cheeks
flushed deeper.
"No, I am not sorry; I am glad," she replied.
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"Why should I tell an untruth about what is so great
a matter to both of us? But it cannot change any
thing."
Harley felt that this was, indeed, a maid well
worth winning, and his hope yet to find a way, which
had been weakened somewhat lately, grew high
again. That night wild resolves ran through his
mind. He would sacrifice his pride, hitherto an un
thinkable thing he would see " King" Plummer and
tell him that Sylvia and he loved each other, that
neither of them could possibly be happy unless they
were wedded, then he would appeal to the older
man's generosity; he would tell him how Sylvia
loyally meant to keep her word and pay her debt
of gratitude with herself, then he would ask him to
release her from the promise. But he gave up the
idea as one that required too much; he could never
humiliate himself so far, and even then it would be a
humiliation without result.
If Harley had undertaken to carry out such a wild
idea, he would have found it difficult, because no one
in the party then knew where " King" Plummer was;
they were hearing of him all over the West, and the
Denver, Salt Lake, and smaller newspapers were
filled with accounts of his doings, all colored highly.
His bolt, they said, was now an accomplished fact;
he showed the deepest hostility to the candidate, and
he was also in constant correspondence with a power
ful and dissatisfied wing in the East.
Mr. Grayson never said a word, he never spoke
of Mr. Plummer in any of his speeches, and Harley
believed there was only sadness in his mind, not an
ger, whenever he thought of the " King."
But there could be no doubt of the effect of all
these events upon the campaign ; to the public Jimmy
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Grayson seemed as one lost in the wilderness, and
only in the mountains, where the people were far
from the great centres of information, did they yet
cherish a hope of his election. Churchill wrote to
the Monitor that Jimmy Grayson himself had aban
doned hope.
Ominous rumblings were coming from the East,
too. Goodnight, Crayon, and their friends had found
a pretext upon which to take drastic action, and they
were about to take it.
XX
THE GREAT PHILIPSBURG CONFERENCE
IF ever you go to Philipsburg, which is in Wyoming,
not far from the Montana line, you will hear the
people proclaim the greatness of the town in which
they live. You expect this sort of thing in the Far
West, and you are prepared for it, but you will be
surprised at the nature of the Philipsburg boast. Its
proud inhabitants will not tell you that it is bound
to be the largest city between the Missouri and the
coast, they will not assert that since the horizon
touches the earth at an equal distance on all sides of
the town, it is, therefore, the natural centre of the
world; but they will tell you stories of the Great
Philipsburg Conference, and some of them will not
be far from the truth.
Philipsburg is but a hamlet, fed by an irrigation
ditch that leads the life-giving waters down from a
distant mountain, and it has neither the beauty of
nature nor that given by the hand of man, but the
people will point importantly to the square wooden
hotel of only two stories, and tell you that there oc
curred the great crisis in the most famous and pict
uresque Presidential campaign ever waged in the
United States; they will even lead you to the very
room in which the big talk occurred, and say, in
lowered voices, that the furniture is exactly the
same, and arranged just as it was on that momen-
3 2 7
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tous night when the history of the world might have
been changed. In this room the people of Philips-
burg have a reverential air, and there is cause for it.
The affair did not begin at Philipsburg it merely
had its climax there but far away on the dusty
plains of eastern Washington, where the wheat
grows so tall, and it bubbled and seethed as the
candidate and his party travelled eastward, stop
ping and speaking many times by the way. It was
all about the tariff, a dry subject in itself, but, as
tall oaks from little acorns grow, so a dry subject
often can make interesting people do interesting
things.
At the convention that nominated Mr. Grayson
for the Presidency the subject of the tariff had been
left somewhat vague in the platform, not from de
liberate purpose, but merely through the drift of
events; the question had not interested the people
greatly in some time; other things connected with
both the foreign and internal policy of the govern
ment, particularly the continued occupation of the
Philippines and a projected new banking system,
were more to the fore ; but as the campaign proceeded
certain events caused the tariff also to be brought
into issue and to receive a large share of public at
tention.
Now, a clever man above all, one as clever as
Jimmy Grayson could avoid giving a decided opin
ion upon this subject. It is party creed for a can
didate to stand upon his platform, and, as the plat
form contained no tariff plank, he was not obliged
to take any stand upon the tariff. Such a course
would seem good politics, too, but Harley knew that
Mr. Grayson favored a reduction of the tariff and a
liberal measure of reciprocity with neighboring states,
3*8
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and he dreaded the time when the candidate should
declare himself upon the subject; he did not see how
he could do it without losing many votes, because
there was a serious difference of view inside his own
party. And Harley's dread grew out of his intense
desire to see Mr. Grayson elected. His hero was not
perfect no man was; there were some important
truths which he did not yet know, but he was honest,
able, and true, and he came nearer to being the ideal
candidate than any other man whom he had ever
seen. Above all, he represented the principles which
Harley , from the bottom of his soul, wished to triumph.
The fight had been begun against great odds,
against powerful interests consolidated in a battle-
line that at first seemed impervious, but by tre
mendous efforts they had made progress; the vast
energy and the winning personality of Mr. Grayson
were a strong weapon, and Harley was gradually
sensible that the people were rallying around him in
increasing numbers, and by people he did not merely
mean the masses of the lowest, those who never raise
themselves; Harley was never such a demagogue as
to think that a man was bad because he had achieved
something in the world and had prospered; he had
too honest and clear a mind to put a premium upon
incapacity and idleness.
Lately he had begun to have hope a feeling that
Mr. Grayson might be elected despite the "King"
Plummer defection was growing upon him, if they
could only abide by the issues already formed. But
at the best it would be a fight to the finish, with
the chances in favor of the other man. Yet his
heart was infused with hope until this hateful tariff
question began to raise its head. Harley knew that
a declaration upon it would split the party, or at
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least would cut from it a fragment big enough to
cause defeat. He devoutly hoped that they would
steer clear of this dangerous rock, but he was not so
sure of Jimmy Grayson, who, after all, was his own
pilot. And his amiability did not alter the fact that
he had a strong hand.
Harley at first heard the mutterings of the thunder
only from afar; it was being debated in the East
among the great manufacturing cities, but as yet the
West was untouched by the storm. Mr. Heathcote,
the Eastern committeeman, called his attention to it
after they had passed the mountain-range that divides
western Washington from eastern Washington.
Harley was looking out of the window at the rip-
pling'brown plain, which he was told was one of the
best wheat countries in the world. "At first," said
his informant, a pioneer, "we thought it was a
desert, and we thought so, too, for a long time after
wards; it looked like loose sand, and the wind act
ually blew the soil about as if it were dust. Now,
and without irrigation, it produces its thirty bushels
of wheat per acre season after season."
Harley was thinking of this brilliant transforma
tion, when the committeeman, who was sitting just
behind him, suddenly changed the channel of his
thoughts.
" I have here a Walla Walla paper that will interest
you, Mr. Harley," he said. "In fact, it is likely to
interest us all. The despatch is somewhat meagre,
but it will suffice."
He put his finger on the top head-line of the first
page, and Harley read : " The Tariff an Issue. " He took
the paper and read the article carefully. The debate
had occurred before an immense audience in Madison
Square Garden, in New York City, and according to
330
the despatch it had excited the greatest interest, a
statement that Harley could easily believe.
"I was hoping that we would be spared this," he
said, as he laid the paper down and his face became
grave. "Why do they bring it up? It's not in
the platform and it should not be made an issue,
at least not now."
"But it is an issue, after all," replied Mr. Heath-
cote, "and I am surprised that the enemy did not
raise the question sooner. They must have had
some very bad management. They are united on
this question, and we are not. If we are forced to
come into line of battle on it, then we are divided
and they are not; don't you see their advantage?"
"Yes, it is manifest," replied Harley, gloomily.
Then, after a little thought, he began to brighten.
"It is not necessary for Jimmy Grayson to declare
himself."
" He will, if he is asked to do so."
"But we are away out here in the Western moun
tains, out of immediate touch with the great centres
of population. These thinly settled states are doubt
ful, those more populous are not. Here they are not
interested in the tariff either one way or the other;
the subject has scarcely been mentioned on our West
ern tour; why can we not still keep it in the dark?"
" But, I tell you, if the issue is presented to Jimmy
Grayson, he is sure to speak his mind about it."
"It is for us to see that it is not presented. I
don't think it will be done by any of the local popula
tion, and we must exercise a censorship over the press.
We must try to keep from him all newspapers con
taining accounts of the tariff debates; we must not
let him know that the issue is before the public off
there in the East. There is only a month more of
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the campaign, and, while it is not likely that we can
suppress the matter entirely, we may keep it down
until it is too late to do much harm."
"The plan isn't a bad one," said Mr. Heathcote;
"but we've got to take everybody into the plot.
Mr. Grayson alone is to be left in ignorance."
"They are all his devoted personal friends except
Churchill, of the Monitor, and I can bully him into
silence."
Harley's face flushed slightly as he made this as
sertion with emphasis. Mr. Heathcote, who was
learning much these days, smiled as he observed him.
"Mr. Harley," he said, "no one could doubt the
reality of your wishes for Mr. Grayson's success."
All went willingly into the little conspiracy against
the extension of Mr. Grayson's knowledge, even
Churchill, under the whip and spur of Harley's will,
promising a sullen silence. The case itself presented
aspects that stirred these men, calling as it did
for an alertness of mind and delicacy of handling that
appealed to their sense of responsibility; hence it
aroused their interest, which in turn begat a desire to
succeed.
But Harley, as well as Mr. Heathcote and the
others, knew very well that it was not the enemy
alone who had raised this new and, as they all feared,
fatal issue; even if they had not read it in the de
spatches, the hand of the minority within their own
party was too clearly visible. In the newspapers
that reached them constant allusions were made to
Mr. Goodnight, Mr. Crayon, and their associates,
who were deeply interested in the maintenance of
the tariff, and who, it was said, would force Mr.
Grayson to pledge himself to its support; this, it
was predicted, they could easily do, as it was obvious
332
THE CANDIDATE
that he could not win without the help of this mi
nority.
Harley knew that the Goodnight faction now in
tended to force the issue that is, either to subject
Mr. Gray son or to ruin him, and he saw that the
affair would require the most delicate handling; only
that and the best of fortune could postpone the is
sue long enough.
They took Sylvia into their confidence, both by
necessity and choice, but they were rather surprised
to find that in this case she did not believe in diplo
macy.
"If I were Uncle James," she said, with indignant
anger, " I would tell them to go to well, well, where
a man would tell them to go to, and I would not be
polite about it, either."
Harley laughed at her heat, although he liked it,
too.
"And then you'd lose the election," he said.
"I'd lose it, if I must, but at least I'd save my in
dependence and self-respect in doing so. Is Uncle
James the nominee, or is he not ? If he is the nominee,
shouldn't he say what he ought to do?"
"Perhaps, but it isn't politics; even if he were
elected he wouldn't be absolutely free; no ruler ever
was, whether president or king."
But she clung to her opinion.
It was no easy matter to hide the tariff issue from
Jimmy Gray son, who was exceedingly watchful of
all things about him, despite his great labors in the
campaign; yet his associates were aided to some ex
tent by the rather meagre character of the news
papers which now reached them, newspapers pub
lished in small towns, and therefore unable to pay
for long despatches from the East. But even these
333
THE CANDIDATE
were censored with the most jealous care; if they
contained anything about the hot tariff discussion
off there in the Atlantic States, they disappeared
before they could reach the candidate. All the news
was inspected with the most rigid care, just as if
the real feeling of his subjects was being hidden from
a kaiser or a czar.
But Harley and his friends soon found that they
had laid upon themselves a great and onerous task,
and to Harley, at least, it was all the heavier be
cause he found, at last, that his heart was not wholly
in it. Despite all their caution, references to the
tariff debate would dribble in; Jimmy Grayson be
gan to grow suspicious ; he would ask about the work
of the campaign orators in the East, and he seemed
surprised that his friends, above all the correspond
ents, should have so little news on the subject.
"I should like to see some of the New York or
Chicago newspapers, even if they are ten days old,"
he said. "It seems odd that we have not had any
for a week now."
"The metropolitan press scarcely reaches these iso
lated regions," said Harley.
"We have been in isolated regions before, and we
had the New York and Chicago newspapers every
day."
Harley did not answer, and presently contrived
some excuse for leaving Jimmy Grayson, being much
troubled in mind, not alone because the candidate
was growing suspicious, but because of a rising be
lief that he ought to know, that the truth should not
be hidden from him. If the tariff was to be an is
sue, then the candidate should declare himself, cost
what it might. Yet Harley, for the present, followed
the course that he had set. But he shivered a little
334
THE CANDIDATE
when he looked at the New York and Chicago news
papers that were smuggled about the train ; the tariff
question was swelling in importance, and the head
lines over the debates were growing bigger.
A stray copy of the Monitor reached them, and it
was big with prophecy: "At last the gauntlet has
been thrown down by the wise, the conservative, and
the high moral element of the party." It said,
editorially: " Our impulsive young man will learn that
there are older and soberer heads, and he must bow
his own to them. The Monitor has long foreseen this
necessary crisis, although the blind multitude would
not believe us, and we are both glad and proud
to say that we have had our modest little share in
forcing it."
The candidate sent for Harley the next noon, and
when the correspondent entered the state-room set
aside for his use, he saw that Mr. Grayson's face
was grave. He held a yellow sheet of paper, evi
dently a telegraph form, in his right hand, and
was tapping it lightly with the forefinger of his left
hand.
"Harley," he said, smiling the frank smile that
made him so many friends; "I've got in the habit of
looking upon you as a friend and sort of confidential
adviser."
"It makes me happy to hear you say so," said
Harley, who was gratified.
Jimmy Grayson looked at the telegram, and his
face became grave. Then he handed it to Harley,
saying, "I have here something that I do not alto
gether understand. Read it."
It was from New York, and it said:
"Your silence on tariff issue admirable. Keep it
up. Don't let enemy force you into action."
335
THE CANDIDATE
It was signed with the name of a New York poli
tician well-known as a trimmer.
Mr. Grayson looked Harley squarely in the eye,
and the correspondent's face fell.
"Now what does it mean?"
Harley was silent.
"What does it mean?" continued Mr. Grayson, in
a perplexed tone. "The tariff has not been a real
issue in this campaign. Now why does he con
gratulate me on my silence?"
Harley did not speak and Jimmy Grayson's face
grew grave.
"I am sorry that we have not been able to keep
fully informed about the campaign in the East," he
said. "I am bound to assume from this that the
tariff issue has been raised there, and if a fight is to
be made upon it I, as the head of the ticket, must do
my share."
Then Harley confessed, and in doing so relieved
his conscience, in which he was wise, both from the
moral and prudential points of view, because the
truth about the situation could not be hidden any
longer from the acute mind of Jimmy Grayson. He
concealed nothing, he showed that he was the leader
of the conspiracy, and he described their devious at
tempts, with their relative success and failure.
"Harley," said the candidate, when the tale was
told, "I am more than ever convinced that you are
my sincere friend. You would not have done this
if you were not. It was a mistake, but you certainly
meant well."
"I did it because I thought I could help."
"I know it, but I repeat that it was a mistake.
Such an important matter could not be kept per
manently in the background. It was bound to come
336
THE CANDIDATE
forward, and with all the greater force because it
had been restrained so long. I don't think any
harm has been done, but I'll have to take the man
agement of it into my own hands now."
He smiled again with such frankness and sincerity
that Harley's feelings were not hurt by his words,
but he quickly realized the truth of his assertion
about the increased force of the disclosure because
it had been kept back so long. Now the avalanche
struck them. When Harley left the state-room,
Churchill came to him.
"Harley," he said, "the Monitor has telegraphed
me to get a thousand words from Mr. Gray son, if I
can, on the tariff issue. My first duty is to my paper,
and I am bound to obey these instructions."
"It's all right, he knows now; go right in to see
him; but I am sure he won't talk to you about it; he
isn't ready yet."
Three or four more correspondents received in
structions of the same character, and in addition
there was a rain of telegrams for Jimmy Grayson
himself and for his party associates. It seemed that
the issue had suddenly culminated in the East, and
the candidate would be bound to speak. But the
telegrams to Mr. Grayson were of a varying nature ;
many of them were opposed to revision, and they
were usually signed by men of wealth and power,
those who furnished the sinews of war, as necessary
in a political campaign and entirely within the con
fines of honesty, too as the cannon and the rifles
are on the field of battle. Others took another view,
and it was apparent to everybody that great trouble
in the party was at hand.
Gloom settled over the train. They were ready at
all times to fight the enemy, but how to handle de-
" 337
THE CANDIDATE
fection among their own men was a puzzling thing,
and there was cause for despair. Sylvia, however,
was glad that Mr. Grayson knew. She said that he
would do right, whatever it might be.
"I've been in to see Mr. Grayson," said Mr. Heath-
cote to Harley, "and I suggested that he might con
tinue his silence on the great question. You see, he
is not bound to speak. If he doesn't want to, no
body can make him."
"No, nobody can make him speak, nor can any
body keep him from it if he wishes to do so."
While they talked the train was slowing down for
a stop at a tiny village of a dozen houses, and when
there a long telegram was brought to Mr. Heath-
cote. He read it with absorbed attention, and when
he looked up at Harley his face showed relief.
"This is good! This is good!" he said. "The tele
gram is dated Chicago, and it tells me that a big
committee of New York, Philadelphia, and Boston
men is coming on to see Mr. Grayson. They are
good members of our own party, all in favor of let
ting the tariff alone, and I think they can bring such
pressure to bear that they will save us."
Harley himself felt relief. The committee might
achieve something, and, at any rate, the responsibil
ity would rest upon more heads.
"When can we expect these men?" he asked.
" In two days; they are already well on their way."
"Being an Eastern man yourself, it will fall to your
lot to be the intermediary."
"I suppose so," said Mr. Heathcote, and he sighed
a little.
True to Mr. Heathcote's prediction, the committee
overtook them two days later at a way-station, and
Harley saw at once that strenuous days were ahead,
338
THE CANDIDATE
because the committee had a full sense of its own
largeness and importance, a fact evident even to
those less acute than Harley; and it was led by Mr.
Goodnight and Mr. Crayon themselves. It was com
posed of eight men, all middle-aged or more, and
every one was set in a way of thinking peculiar to
the business in which he had spent many years and
in which he had made much money.
All glittered with the gloss of prosperity. When
they left the train they put on polished silk -hats,
brought forth by ready servants, and when they
walked through the streets of the little villages they
were resplendent in long, black frock-coats and light
trousers. They were not, as Mr. Heathcote had
been in his primordial condition, young and merely
mistaken, but they had passed the time of life when
there was anything to be learned ; in fact, they were
quite well aware that they knew everything, par
ticularly those subjects pertaining to the growth and
prosperity of the country.
The leader of the committee was Mr. Clinton Good
night, who, as has been told, was a manufacturer of
immense wealth and also a member of the Lower
House of Congress, thus combining in himself the
loftiest attributes of law-making and money-making.
He was helped, too, by a manner of great solemnity
and a slow, deep voice that placed emphasis upon
every alternate word, thus adding impressiveness to
everything he said. He was assiduously seconded
by Mr. Henry Crayon, thin-faced and alert as ever,
speaking in short, snappy sentences, from which all
useless adjectives were elided. Mr. Crayon was self-
made, and was willing that it should be known. He,
too, had fathomed the depths of knowledge.
They were introduced to Mr. Grayson by Mr
339
THE CANDIDATE
Heathcote, who, with useful experience of his own
not far behind him, was able to show much tact.
"I am glad to meet you again, Mr. Grayson," said
Mr. Goodnight, in a large, rotund manner. "I am
sorry I did not see more of you when we were to
gether in the House. But you were very young then,
you know. Who'd have thought that you would be
so conspicuous now ? I dare say you did not expect
to see us here. We business -men are usually so
much engrossed with affairs that we do not have
time for politics, but there come occasions when our
help, especially our advice, is needed, and this is one
of them."
Harley saw a faint smile pass over the face of the
candidate, but Jimmy Grayson was a man of infinite
tact, which, instead of being allied to greatness, is
a part of greatness itself, and he took no notice of
anything in Mr. Goodnight's words or manner. On
the contrary, he welcomed him and his associate
with real warmth; he was glad to see the great busi
ness interests of the country represented in person
in the campaign; it ought always to be so; if the
solid men took more part in the elections it would
be better for all.
Every member of the committee smiled a satisfied
smile and admitted that Mr. Grayson's remarks were
true. This was progress, as Harley could see. The
committee may have come with advice and repro
bation in its soul, but clearly it was placated, for the
present.
"We give proof of devotion to cause," said Mr.
Crayon, in his sharp, snappy way. "Have come all
the way from great financial centres to these lonely
plains. Heavy sacrifice of time. Hope it will be
duly appreciated."
340
THE CANDIDATE
"You can rest easy on that point," said Jimmy
Grayson, as the faint smile again passed over his
face. "Your intentions will be taken at their full
value."
"We wish to have a long and thorough talk with
you a little later on," said Mr. Goodnight. "The sub
ject is one of the greatest importance, and the age
and experience of the members of this committee fit
us to deal with it."
" Undoubtedly," said Jimmy Grayson, and Harley
thought that his voice was a little dryer than usual.
Fortunately the members of the committee had
their own special car, equipped with many luxuries,
and it was attached to Jimmy Grayson's train.
Hence there was no crowding and no displacing of
the old travellers, but it was clear that there were
now two parties following the candidate, since the
old and the new did not coalesce. The members of
the committee showed at once that they knew them
selves to be the mainstay of the country, while the
others were merely frivolous and unstable politicians.
Sylvia, of course, was eager to know what they had
said and how they bore themselves, and Harley was
anxious to gratify her.
"They said they were very great men, and they
bore themselves accordingly."
"Uncle James is a greater man than all of them
put together."
" I foresee trouble," said Hobart, joyfully, to Har
ley a little later. "I can feel it in the air around
me, I breathe it, I can even see it."
"Hobart," said Harley, pityingly, "you only obey
your instincts."
" Wherein I am a wise man," replied Hobart, with
satisfaction. "I am out here to get news, a.nd the
34*
THE CANDIDATE
livelier the news the better. Now I think that these
gentlemen will soon furnish us something worth writ
ing about."
"I am afraid so," said Harley, despondently.
The committee was in no haste to speak. Its mem
bers dined luxuriously in their private car, and in
vited to join them those whom they thought worthy
of the honor only a very few besides the ladies.
Among these was Harley; but it was Jimmy Gray-
son who took him.
The conversation was exclusively commercial and
financial. Mr. Goodnight, Mr. Crayon, and their
associates were well aware that the whole science
of government pertained to the development of
trade, and it was the business of a people, as well
as of a man, to stick to the main point. It was for
this reason, too, that Mr. Crayon incidentally let it
be understood that he did not value a college edu
cation. He had several university graduates work
ing for him on small salaries, while he had never
been inside the walls of a university, and that was
the beginning and end of the matter; there could be
no further discussion.
"I understand you are connected with the press,"
he said to Harley, who sat in the next chair. "I
should think there was not much in that; but still,
with careful, diligent man, it might serve as opening
into financial circles. You must come in contact
with men of importance. I know a man, originally a
writer for press, who has risen to be a bank cashier,
Worthy fellow."
"I am sure that he must be," said Harley, and
Mr. Crayon's opinion of him rose.
The atmosphere of which Hobart spoke with such
emphasis did not permeate the special car. There
342
THE CANDIDATE
was no sign of trouble around the bountiful dining-
table. The committee had^its own way and did all
the talking, leaving Mr. Grayson, Mr. Heathcote, and
the others in silence. Hence there was no chance
of a disagreement, and, as Harley judged, Mr. Good
night and Mr. Crayon were assured that this pleas
ant state of affairs would continue.
Mr. Crayon, who was pleased with his neighbor,
again gave Mr. Harley enlightenment. He asked him
about the country through which they were passing,
and was kind enough to consider his information of
some weight. But he permitted Harley to furnish
only the premises; it was reserved for himself to
draw the conclusions; he predicted with absolute
certainty the future of this region and the amount
of revenue it would yield through its threefold in
terests agricultural, pastoral, and mineral. He add
ed that only the trained mind could make these ac
curate estimates.
"Well, what happened?" asked Hobart, when Har
ley returned to his own car.
'"Nothing."
"Nothing? Maybe so, but it won't remain noth
ing long. You just wait and see."
Sylvia, to whom these men were, of course, polite,
summed them up very accurately in a remark that
she made to Harley.
"It is impossible to teach them anything," she
said, "because they know everything already."
An hour later the candidate spoke at a small station
to a large audience composed of people typical of
the region miners, farmers, and cowboys, variously
attired, but all quiet and peaceful. There was not
a sign of disorder, there was nothing even remotely
resembling the toughs of the great Eastern cities,
343
THE CANDIDATE
This seemed to be a surprise to the members of the
committee, who sat in a formidable semicircle on
the stage behind the candidate. But as the sur
prise wore away a touch of disdain appeared in their
manner; they seemed to doubt whether the region
and its people were of any importance.
To Harley the speech of the morning was of par
ticular interest, and he watched Jimmy Grayson
with the closest attention. He wanted to see wheth
er he would venture upon the treacherous ocean of
the tariff, and he had been unable to draw from his
manner any idea of his intention. But Jimmy Gray-
son did not launch his bark upon those stormy waters.
He handled many issues, and never did he allow any
one in the audience to doubt his meaning; it was a
plain yea or nay, and he drew applause from the
audience or a disapproving silence, according to its
feelings.
But the committee was satisfied, the faces of the
members shone with pleasure, and Harley, reading
their minds, saw how they told themselves of the
quick effect their presence had upon Jimmy Grayson.
It was well for men of weight to surround a Presi
dential candidate; despite himself, with strong, grave
faces beside him he would put a prudent restraint
upon his words. The long trip from the East and
the temporary sacrifice of important interests was
proving to be worth the price. When the speech
was over, they congratulated him upon his caution
and wisdom.
But that afternoon they were caught under a
deluge of Eastern newspapers, and in them all the
tariff discussion loomed formidably. There was ev
ery indication, too, that this big storm - cloud was
moving westward; already it was hovering over the
344
THE CANDIDATE
Missouri River Valley, because the newspapers of
Kansas City and Omaha, like those of Chicago and
New York, fairly darkened with it.
And the telegrams, too, continued to fall on Jim
my Grayson thick and fast. They came in yellow
showers; all the correspondents received orders to
get long interviews with him upon the subject, if
possible, and the leaders in every part of the country
were telegraphing to do this and to do that, or not
to do either. It was evident that a great population
wanted to know just how Jimmy Grayson stood on
the tariff.
The members of the committee took alarm ; Harley
saw them bustling in uneasily to Jimmy Grayson,
and whispering to him much and often.
"It's begun! It's begun! The war is on!" said
Hobart, gleefully. "I hear the dropping bullets of
the skirmishers!"
"Hobart, you'd exult over an earthquake!" ex
claimed Harley, wrathfully.
But he knew Hobart's words to be true, and pres
ently he drifted back to Jimmy Grayson.
"Mr. Harley is my intimate personal friend," said
the candidate to some of the members of the com
mittee who looked askance at the correspondent;
"and what you say before me you can say before
him. He knows what to print and what not to
print."
"It is this," said Mr. Goodnight, and Mr. Crayon
nodded violently in affirmation; "all the news shows
that this tariff agitation is growing fast. But it is
only a trick of the enemy to force an expression from
us. They are united in favor of the tariff and we are
not. There is a division within our ranks. Many
of us, and I may say it is the more solid and con-
345
THE CANDIDATE
servative wing of the party, the men who really un
derstand the world, know that it is not wise to med
dle with the question. Leave well enough alone.
We are interested in this ourselves, and, as you know,
we furnish the sinews of war."
He stopped and coughed significantly, and Mr.
Crayon also coughed significantly. The remaining
members of the committee did likewise. Jimmy
Gray son looked thoughtful.
"Gentlemen," he said, "I confess to you that my
mind has been upon this subject for several days past."
"But you will listen to advice," said Mr. Good
night, hastily.
"Certainly! Certainly!" said Jimmy Grayson.
"But you see the time is coming when I must de
cide upon some course in regard to it. I appreciate
the self-sacrifice of you gentlemen in leaving your
business interests to come so far, and I shall be
glad if we can co-operate. We reach Philipsburg
to-night; I make a speech there, but it will be over
early. Suppose we have our talk immediately after
wards."
The committee at once accepted the offer and ex
pressed satisfaction. Mr. Grayson showed every sign
of tractability, and they began to feel again that their
valuable time had not been expended in vain.
Harley told Sylvia that the affair was now bound
to come to a head very soon, but she repeated her
confidence in her uncle.
Hobart, however, was gloomy; his joy of the morn
ing seemed to have passed quickly.
"I don't like it," he remarked to Harley. "Jimmy
Grayson seems to have followed the lead of these
men without once saying: 'I am the nominee and
it is for me to say." 1
34 6
THE CANDIDATE
"And why not? Every dictate of prudence re
quires that he should. What is the use of taking up
such a troublesome question at this late day of the
campaign?"
"But there will be no fight!" This was said very
plaintively.
Harley smiled.
"I sincerely hope we will escape one," he said.
Mr. Grayson, after the brief talk, retired to his
state-room, and for a long time did not see anybody.
Harley knew that he was thinking deeply, and when
the time came for the next speech at another way-
station, he followed close behind and was keenly
watchful.
Again the members of the committee arranged
themselves on the stage in a formidable semicircle
behind the speaker, and surveyed the audience with
an air that bore a tinge of weary disdain. They were
in one of the most barren parts of the country, a
section that could never be developed into anything
great, and Mr. Crayon looked upon a speech there
as a sheer waste of time.
The candidate spoke upon many important issues,
and then he began to skirmish gingerly around the
edge of one that hitherto had been permitted to
slumber quietly. He did not show any wish to
make a direct attack, just a desire to worry and
tease, as it were, a disposition to fire a few shots,
more for the sake of creating an alarm than to do
damage.
The committee at once felt apprehension. This
was forbidden ground. The candidate was growing
entirely too frivolous; he should be reminded of his
duty to the country and to great business interests.
Yet they could do nothing at the moment ; Mr. Gray-
347
THE CANDIDATE
son was speaking, and it was impossible to inter
rupt him.
But Harley, attentive and knowing everything that
passed in their minds, enjoyed their uneasiness. He
saw them quiver and shrink, and then grow angry,
as Mr. Grayson skirmished closer and closer to the
forbidden ground, that area sown with traps and
pitfalls, in which many a man has broken his political
limbs, yea, has even lost his political life. He watch
ed the massive Mr. Goodnight as he swelled with im
portance and indignation. He knew that the great
manufacturer was on pins to get at the candidate, to
tell him the terrible mistake that he was so near to
making, and perhaps to lecture him a little on the
indiscretions of youth and inexperience. But, per
force, he remained silent until Mr. Grayson con
cluded, and then as the crowd was leaving, he ap
proached him. The candidate seemed to be in a
light and joyous humor, and he lifted his hand in a
gesture that was a dismissal of care.
"Remember our coming conference to-night, Mr.
Goodnight," he said. "We will discuss everything
then."
He smiled as he spoke, and walked on, but Mr.
Goodnight felt himself waved aside in a manner that
was not pleasing to his sense of dignity ; he was sixty
years old, and he had done great things in the world.
Harley and Hobart saw it all, and light began to
appear on Hobart's gloomy countenance.
"Harley," he said, "I believe that after all my
first intuition was correct. We may yet have
trouble."
Harley was not so sure. It seemed to him that
the affair, which was really not an affair, merely the
bud and promise of one, could be adjusted, especially
348
THE CANDIDATE
in these shortening days of the campaign. Tact
would do it, and he was full of hope.
The members of the committee went into their
private car and were inhospitable the remainder of
the day ; apparently they wished to be alone, and no
one was inclined to violate their wish. Harley sup
posed that they were in conference, and he was cor
rect.
They arrived at Philipsburg in a gorgeous twilight
that wrapped the Western mountains in red and gold,
but Harley scarcely noticed either the town or the
colors over it. He was full of anxiety, as he began
to share Hobart's view that something was going to
happen, although he did not take the same cheerful
view of trouble.
The speech at Philipsburg was not long. Again
Jimmy Grayson skirmished around the dangerous
question, but, as before, he did not make any direct
attack upon it. Just when the committee became
most alarmed, he withdrew his forces, and the speech
once more closed with the decisive things unsaid.
But as soon as the crowd dispersed, the Great
Philipsburg Conference began. The large parlor of
the hotel had been obtained, and when Jimmy Gray-
son started, he put his hand on Harley 's shoulder,
saying:
" Harley, the press is excluded from this conference,
which is secret, but I take you with me in your
capacity as a private citizen. I have made it a req
uisite with the committee, because you are a friend
and I may need your help."
Harley gave him a glance of gratitude and appre
ciation, and the two together entered the designated
room. It was a large, cheerful apartment, with a
wood-fire burning on the broad hearth. The mem-
349
THE CANDIDATE
bers of the committee were already there, and Mr.
Goodnight stood importantly, back to the fire, with
a hand in either pocket, and a coat-tail under either
arm. Mr. Crayon leaned against the wall and gen
tly stroked his arm.
They exchanged the usual commonplaces about
the weather and the campaign, and, as they spoke,
most of the committee looked darkly at Harley,
but they said nothing. It was quite evident that
his presence was a matter arranged definitely by
Mr. Grayson, and it was politic for them to en
dorse it.
Mr. Grayson settled himself easily into an arm
chair, and looked around as if to say he was ready
to listen. Harley stood by a window, careless in
manner, seemingly, but never more watchful in his
life, and on fire with curiosity.
Mr. Goodnight glanced at Mr. Crayon, and Mr.
Crayon glanced at Mr. Goodnight. There came at
once to Harley an amusing thought about putting
the bell on the tiger. But perhaps these men re
garded themselves as tigers.
Mr. Goodnight gave a premonitory cough, and
taking his hands out of his pockets let his coat-tails
drop. This also was a signal.
"Mr. Grayson," he said, "we have admired your
campaign have admired it greatly; we have appre
ciated the skill with which you have kept away from
dangerous subjects, and we have been sure that it
would continue to the end, but I must confess that
this confidence of ours was shaken a little to-day
I trust that I am not hurting your feelings."
"Oh no, not at all. I also have a statement to
make," said Jimmy Grayson, ingenuously. "But I
shall be glad to hear yours first."
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The big men were somewhat disconcerted, and Mr.
Crayon spoke up briskly :
"Great issues at stake. In such emergencies
Presidential nominees must hear advice."
"You are right," said Jimmy Grayson, gravely.
"A Presidential nominee ought always to listen to
advice."
Mr. Goodnight's face cleared.
" We feel that we are in a position to speak plainly,
Mr. Grayson," he said. "We are elderly men, used
to the handling of large affairs, and and this can
not be said of all others in our party. We noticed
to-day how you skirted dangerously upon the tariff
question, which we think in fact, which we know
should be avoided. It is a dangerous thing, and we
trust it is only an indiscretion that will not be re
peated; or, perhaps, it might be a little sop to these
people out here, who really do not count."
Harley glanced at Jimmy Grayson, who was dis
tinctly in the position of one receiving a lecture from
his elders, and, therefore, from those who knew more
than he. But the face of the candidate expressed
nothing save gravity and attention.
"That is quite true," he said.
"I am glad that you recognize our need," said Mr.
Goodnight. " I do not know how you feel personally
upon this great question, but, as I take it, politics
and one's private opinion are different things."
Jimmy Grayson raised his head as if he were going
to speak, but he let it drop without saying anything,
and the great manufacturer continued:
"It is often necessary to submerge the lesser in the
greater, and never was there a more obvious instance
of it than this. We, and by 'we ' I mean the great
financial interests of the party, are interested in the
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tariff, and believe that it is best as it is. We do not
know how you stand personally, but there is no ques
tion how you should stand politically. We men of
finance may be in a minority within the party in the
matter of votes, but perhaps we may constitute a
majority in other and more important respects."
"All wings of the party are entitled to an opinion,"
said Jimmy Grayson.
"True, but the opinion of one wing may be worth
more than the opinion of another wing," continued
Mr. Goodnight; "and for that reason we who stand
at the centres from which the affairs of America are
conducted are here. We see the unwisdom of ap
proaching such a subject, and, above all, the destruc
tion that would be caused if you were to speak fully
upon it. It is a topic that must be eliminated."
Harley saw a quick glitter appear in the eyes of
Jimmy Grayson, and then it was shut out by the
lowered lids.
" But if this is an issue, and if I am to judge from
the overwhelming testimony of the press it is an
issue," said Mr. Grayson, gently, "ought I not in
duty both to my party and myself declare how I
stand upon it? I freely confess to you that the
matter looks somewhat troublesome, and, therefore,
I am glad that we can consult with one another."
"Why troublesome?" exclaimed Mr. Crayon, short
ly. "Seems to me, Mr. Grayson, that your shrewd
political eye would see point at once. Above all things
must avoid split in the party. Campaign will soon
close, you are here in Far West, nothing can force you
to speak, you avoid issue to the last; clever politics,
seems to me."
And Mr. Crayon rubbed his smooth chin, his eye
lighting up with a satisfied smile. Harley glanced
352
THE CANDIDATE
again at Jimmy Grayson, and saw a frown pass over
his face, but it was fleeting, and when he spoke once
more his voice was unemotional.
"Clever politics is a phrase hard to define," he
said. " One does not always know just where clever
ness lies. I have not said anything definite upon
this issue, but it doubtless occurs to you gentlemen
that I may have opinions."
The committee stirred, and Mr. Crayon and Mr.
Goodnight looked at each other; it was evident to
them that they had not taken the candidate in hand
too soon. Harley felt no abatement of interest.
"That is just the point," said Mr. Goodnight,
" and so we have come West. We felt that we must
act."
Harley expected to see a flame of wrath appear on
Jimmy Grayson's face, but the candidate was un
moved.
"Of course you know what would happen if you
were to declare for reduction," said Mr. Goodnight.
They seemed to take it for granted that if he declared
at all it would be for reduction.
"Not at all," replied Mr. Grayson.
"But I do," said Mr. Goodnight, with emphasis.
"The wealthy, the important wing of the party,
would be bound to disown you."
"Ah!" said Jimmy Grayson.
Harley felt a thrill of anger, but he did not move.
The silent members of the committee, who were
sitting, stirred in their chairs, and their clothes
rustled importantly. They felt that equivocation
and indirection were thrust aside, and the law was
now being laid down.
"Then I am to understand that silence on this
question is a requisite," said Mr. Grayson, mildly.
" 353
THE CANDIDATE
"Undoubtedly," replied Mr. Goodnight, with grow
ing emphasis. "We are quite convinced of its nec
essity, and it is the demand that we make. A Presi
dential candidate must always listen to advice."
"But sometimes it has seemed to me," said Mr.
Grayson, musingly, "that in a Presidential campaign
the public is entitled to certain privileges, or, rather,
that it has certain rights, and chief among these is
to know just how its candidate stands on any im
portant issue."
"It would never do! It would never do!" ex
claimed Mr. Goodnight, hastily, and with some tem
per. "We cannot allow it!"
Harley glanced again at Jimmy Grayson, but the
candidate's lids were lowered, and no flash came
from his eye.
"I put it forward in a tentative way," he said, in
the same mild and musing tone. " Of course, I may
be mistaken. I have received many telegrams from
important people asking how I stand, and I notice
that the press is discussing the same question very
actively."
"They can be waved aside," said Mr. Crayon,
loftily. "Telegrams can go unanswered, and why
bother about a foolish press?"
"Still," said Jimmy Grayson, mildly, but tenacious
ly, "the public has certain rights."
"An ignorant mob that can be left in ignorance,"
said Mr. Crayon, briskly.
"Nothing must be said! Nothing must be said!
Quite resolved upon that!" exclaimed Mr. Good
night, brusquely.
"This resolution is unchangeable, I take it?' :
asked Jimmy Grayson, in tones milder than ever.
"There is not the least possibility of a change,"
354
replied Mr. Goodnight, in a tone of finality. ''We
have considered the question from every side, and
nothing is to be said. Of course, if you were to
declare for a revision, we should have to abandon
you at once to overwhelming defeat."
"But I should like to say a few words upon the
subject," said Jimmy Grayson, and there was a slight
touch of pleading in his tone, "just as a sort of salve
to my conscience. You see I am troubled about all
these requests that I should declare myself, and I have
certain ideas about what a candidate should do, in
which I differ from you, and in which probably I am
wrong, but I cannot help it. I should like to ease
my mind, and hence I ask you that I be permitted
to say a few words. Just one little speech, and I
will not handle the subject again, if you direct me
not to do so."
"We are against it; we are against saying a single
word," declared Mr. Goodnight.
"Just one little speech," pleaded Jimmy Grayson.
"I think the people are entitled to it. We stop to
morrow at a small station, a place of not more than
twenty houses; I should like to say something there,
and that would serve as a claim later on that I had
not avoided the issue. But, as I said, I promise you
that I will not touch the subject again without your
permission."
"Don't believe in it! Don't believe in it!" said
Mr. Crayon, snappily.
"I am afraid I shall have to insist," said Jimmy
Grayson, plaintively. "I do not like to say any
thing that would displease such powerful friends,
but our people are peculiar, sometimes. I feel that
I must touch the subject a little when we reach
Waterville to-morrow morning."
355
THE CANDIDATE
He spoke in his most propitiatory tones, but the
committee was still stirred. Mr. Goodnight, Mr.
Crayon, and their associates demanded absolute
silence, and they had not found it difficult to over
awe the candidate. Yet there was a certain mild
persistence in his tone which told them that they
should humor him a little, as one would a spoiled or
hurt child. They, as men of the world, knew that it
was not well to bear too hard on the bit.
They conferred a little, leaving Jimmy Grayson
alone in his chair, where he remained silent and with
inexpressive face. Harley still stood by the win
dow. He had never spoken, but nothing escaped
his attention. More than once he was hot with
anger, but none of the committeemen ever looked
at him.
"If you insist, and as you say you will, we yield
this little point," said Mr. Goodnight, "but we only
do so because Waterville is such a small place. Even
then we are not sure that it is not an indiscretion,
to call it by a mild name, and if anything should
come of it you would have to bear the full respon
sibility, Mr. Grayson."
"That is true," said Jimmy Grayson, cheerfully,
"but as you have said, Waterville is a small, a very
small place; one could hardly find a smaller on the
map."
"In that event it will doubtless do no harm," said
Mr. Goodnight, relaxing a little, and Mr. Crayon,
stroking his smoothly shaven chin, said after him:
"No harm; no harm, perhaps, in so small a place!"
Harley had never moved from the window, and
again he studied Jimmy Grayson's face with the
keenest attention. Harley was a fine judge of char
acter, but he could read nothing there, save gravity,
356
THE CANDIDATE
As for himself, he felt often those hot thrills of anger
at the words of these men; would nothing stir them
from their complacency? He had, too, a sense of
pain at Jimmy Grayson's lack of resentment. It
was true that their support was a necessity, but after
all they were a minority within the party, and one
might remind them of the fact. Yet Jimmy Gray-
son probably knew best; he understood politics, and
perhaps his course was the wiser. But Harley sighed.
After the victory, although it had not been a
difficult one to win, the members of the committee
were disposed to condescend a little. They sent to
their private car for champagne and other luxuries
which the candidate and Harley touched but lightly,
and they treated even Harley, the newspaper-man,
with graciousness.
Mr. Crayon felt the flame of humor sparkling in
his veins, and he jested lightly on the little speech
at Waterville. "Just think of our candidate wast
ing sweetness on desert air," he said, "for Water
ville is in desert, and, as I am reliably informed, has
less than forty inhabitants."
Jimmy Grayson showed no resentment, but smiled
gravely.
"Of course Mr. Harley understands that all this
is sub rosa," said Mr. Goodnight, looking severely
at the correspondent.
"Mr. Harley knows it, and he is to be trusted en
tirely," said Jimmy Grayson. "Otherwise I should
not have brought him with me. I vouch for the
fact that he will say nothing of this meeting until
we give him permission."
Mr. Grayson presently excused himself, on the
plea that he needed sleep, a plea which was admitted
by everybody, and Harley also withdrew, while the
357
members of the committee went to their private car
pleased with the evening's work. Thus the Great
Philipsburg Conference came to an end.
The candidate .and Harley walked together to
their rooms through a rather dim hall, but it was not
too dim to hide from Harley a singular expression
that passed over the face of the candidate. It was
gone like a flash, but it seemed to Harley to be a
compound of anger and anticipation. Wisely he
kept silent, and Jimmy Grayson, stopping a mo
ment at his own door, said, in the grave but other
wise expressionless tone that he had used through
out the discussion:
"Good-night, Harley; I don't think we shall for
get this evening, shall we?"
"No," replied Harley, and he tried to decipher a
meaning in Jimmy Grayson's tone, but he could not.
When Harley turned away, he found Hobart,
Blaisdell, Churchill, and all the other correspond
ents waiting for him at the end of the hall to get the
news of the conference.
"There is nothing, not a line," said Harley.
They looked at him incredulously.
"It is the truth, I assure you," continued Harley.
" I am not sending a word to my own paper. I am
going straight to my bed."
" If you say so, Harley, I believe you," said Church
ill. " Besides, it's past one o'clock now, and that's
past four o'clock in New York and past three in
Chicago; all the papers have gone to press, and we
couldn't send anything if we wanted to do so."
"There is nothing to tell you," said Harley, "ex
cept that Mr. Grayson will allude to the tariff in his
speech to-morrow, or, rather, this morning, at Water-
ville. He has promised the committee not to do so
358
THE CANDIDATE
again they were not very willing to grant him even
so little but it is a sort of sop to Cerberus ; later on,
if any one twits him with avoiding the revision, he
can say, and say truthfully, that he has spoken on it."
"I see," said Churchill.
And before they could ask him anything more
Harley had entered his own room and was going to
bed.
The morning dawned badly. The sun shone dim
ly through a mass of dirty brown clouds, and the
mountains were hidden in mist. A slow and provok
ing cold rain was" falling. It was also a start at the
first daylight, and, forced to rise too early from their
beds, all were in a bad humor. Even Sylvia was
hid in a heavy cloak, and she did not smile. Harley
had told her that he could make nothing of the
conference the night before.
They reached Waterville an hour later, and they
found it even smaller and bleaker than they ex
pected. Although the usual body of citizens was
on hand to meet them at the train, the attendance
was less than at any point hitherto. The shed un
der which Jimmy Grayson was to speak would easily
hold them.
But the members of the committee, when they
came from their private car, showed satisfaction.
They had enjoyed a good breakfast, their chef, as
Harley could testify, was one of the best, and they
were not averse to hearing the candidate make his
record good. Hence they were all comfortably ar
ranged on the platform in their usual solid semicircle
when Mr. Grayson appeared. The candidate him
self was a bit later than usual, but he gave them a
cheerful good-morning when he appeared, and then
proceeded at once to the matter of the speech.
359
THE CANDIDATE
The audience, though small, greeted Mr. Gray son
with the heartiest applause, and he soon had them
under his spell. He talked a while on the custom
ary issues, and then he said:
"Gentlemen, there is one question which seemed
in previous campaigns to be of paramount impor
tance, but in this it has been suffered a long time to
rest. Lately, however, it has been rising into promi
nence again. In the great centres of population to the
eastward it has become a question first in the minds
of the people, and before the campaign closes it is
bound to become as momentous here."
Harley, in a seat at the corner of the stage, glanced
at the committee, and he noticed a slight shade of
disapproval on all their faces. The candidate was a
little too strong in his preamble, but they smiled
again when they noticed his face which wore an ex
pression so gentle and innocent.
"It has been but recently that the matter came
to my attention," continued the candidate, in an
easy, conversational tone, "but in the time since
then I have been thinking about it a great deal.
This question I need scarcely tell you is the revision
of the tariff, and I am going to speak to you about
it this morning."
There was a sudden cheer from the audience, and
the people seemed to draw closer around the speak
er's stand. Their faces glowed with interest. Sylvia
sat up straight and her eyes sparkled. The com
mittee looked a warning at Jimmy Gray son, but he
did not see it.
"This question has come up late," he said, "and
perhaps it could have been put aside. I have been
told that it would be for the good of our party, par
ticularly in this campaign, to do so, and many have
360
THE CANDIDATE
advised me to keep silence, saying that I could con
sistently and honorably follow such a course, as our
platform does not declare itself on the question ; but
there are some things that trouble me. This is an
issue, I feel sure, which must be threshed out sooner
or later, and as it is now so importantly before the
country I think that I, as the standard-bearer of
our party, should have an opinion upon it."
The audience cheered again, and longer and louder
than ever. Sylvia's eyes not only sparkled, they
flashed. Mr. Goodnight half rose in his seat and
said something in a loud whisper to the candidate,
but Mr. Grayson did not hear it and went on with
his speech.
"It did not take me long to make up my mind,"
he continued. " I have decided opinions upon the sub
ject, and what they are I shall tell you before I leave
this stage; but first I want to tell you a story."
Mr. Grayson did not tell stories often; he did so
only when they were thoroughly relevant, and Ho-
bart, Blaisdell, and the other correspondents leaned
forward with sudden interest. Sylvia's face glowed.
"I think I'll sharpen my lead-pencils," said Ho-
bart.
"I would if I were you," said Harley.
"This story," continued the candidate, in an easy,
confidential manner, "is about a man who was in a
position much like mine. He was the nominee of
his party for a most important office, and towards
the close of his campaign a great issue came up again,
just as in my case. He did not think that he ought
to keep silent about it, but when he was thinking
over what he ought to say a committee of men,
representing a minority in his party, arrived from
the great centres of population, industry, and finance
THE CANDIDATE
he was then far away in a thinly settled and some
what isolated region."
Again the committee stirred, and they whispered
loudly both to one another and to Mr. Grayson, but
he paid no heed to them and spoke on. All the cor
respondents were writing rapidly, eagerly, and with
rapt attention, while Sylvia's eyes still sparkled and
flashed.
"Well, the members of this committee and the
man met," continued the candidate, "and from the
first they treated him as one who might have an
opinion of his own but who must not be allowed to
express it. They were not bad men, perhaps, but a
long course of exclusive attention to their own per
sonal interests had, we will say, narrowed them.
That personal advantage was always dangling be
fore them; they could see nothing else. The sun
rose and set in its interest, and such an affair as the
government of a mighty nation like the United States
must be regulated with sole regard to it. They
thought they knew everything in the world when
they knew only one thing in it. Their ignorance
was equalled only by their presumption."
The rolling cheer came once more from the au
dience, but Harley saw that the faces of the com
mittee had turned red. They whispered no more,
but stared angrily and uneasily at Jimmy Grayson,
who did not notice them.
"How glad I am that I sharpened all my lead-
pencils!" said Hobart, in a low tone to Harley.
But Harley never stopped writing.
"They did not even have the tact to treat this
candidate with courtesy and consideration," con
tinued Mr. Grayson. "They lectured him on his
comparative youth and his ignorance of the world,
363
THE CANDIDATE
when it was they who were ignorant. They told
him, without hesitation, regardless of his own opin
ion and the fact that he was a free man among free
men, that he must not speak on this issue. They
threatened him."
"Did he take the bluff?" shouted a big man in
the audience.
"Wait and we shall see," said Jimmy Grayson,
sweetly. "They were entitled to their opinion, and
he would have heard their advice, but their manner
was intolerable; they undertook to treat him as a
child. They called him to a conference, and there
they laid down the law to him as a school-master
would order a sulking child to be good."
"Did he take the bluff?" again shouted the big
man in the crowd.
" Wait and we shall see," repeated Jimmy Grayson,
as sweetly as ever. "Well, this conference came to
pass, and it lasted a long time, but only the com
mittee talked; they gave the candidate scarcely a
chance to say a word. They treated him with in
creasing arrogance. They said that if he declared
himself upon this great issue they would bolt the
party and let him go headlong to destruction."
"The traitors!" shouted the big man in the au
dience. But the members of the committee, from
some strange cause, seemed to be struck speechless.
Their jaws fell, but the faces of them all were as
red as fire. Sylvia leaned forward and clapped her
gloved hands.
"Blaisdell," whispered Hobart, "slip away and
arrange at the telegraph-office; any of us will give
you his report. I shall have at least five thousand
words myself."
Blaisdell slid noiselessly away.
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"The candidate endured it all, but only for the
time," thundered Jimmy Grayson, and now his voice
was swelling with passion, while his eyes fairly spar
kled with heat and anger "but only for the time.
He had decided opinions upon this subject, as I have
upon the question of tariff revision, and he intended
to utter them as I intend to utter mine. They said
and they said it with intolerable condescension
and patronage that for the sake of his record he
might make one little speech upon the subject be
fore a few people out in what they called the desert,
and he accepted the concession. But there was rage
in his heart. He was willing to be beaten by the
biggest majority ever given against a Presidential
candidate before he would yield to such insolent
dictation. Moreover, there was the question of his
true opinion, which the people had a right to know,
and he took his resolve. There was that little speech,
and he remembered the telegraph wire, the thin line
that binds the farthest little village to the great
world, and I say he took his resolve."
"He called the bluff!" shouted the big man in the
audience, in a perfect roar of triumph, and Jimmy
Grayson smiled sweetly.
Suddenly Mr. Goodnight, in all the might of his
majesty and importance, rose up and stalked from
the stage, and the eleven other members of the com
mittee, headed by Mr. Crayon, followed him in an
angry file, accompanied by the derisive shouts of the
audience. They quickened their pace somewhat
when they reached solid ground, but before they
were within the sheltering confines of their private
car, Jimmy Grayson was launched upon his great
and thrilling tariff speech, in which he invested
the driest subject in the world with an interest
THE CANDIDATE
that absorbed the attention of ninety million peo
ple.
All day the wires eastward and westward sang
with the burden of the great speech made in the tiny
hamlet of Waterville, in the Wyoming mountains,
and the next morning it occupied the front pages of
ten thousand newspapers. It was absolutely clear
and decisive. No one could doubt how the candi
date stood. He was heart and soul for revision.
Sylvia threw her arms around his neck, and said,
"Uncle James, I was never prouder of you than I am
at this moment."
When they left Waterville the private car of the
committee was still attached to their train, but there
was no communication between it and the other
cars. About the middle of the afternoon they
reached a junction with another railroad line. There
the private car was cut off and attached to a new
engine. Then it sped eastward at the rate of fifty
miles an hour.
Meanwhile the correspondents were holding a lit
tle conference of their own.
"They will bolt him sure," said Hobart. "Will it
ruin Jimmy Grayson?"
"I believe not," said Harley, who had been think
ing much. "Of course there will be a split, but such
courage, and his way of meeting their attack, will ap
peal to the people; it will bring him thousands of
new votes.
"Whether it does or does not," said Hobart, "if
I had been in his place I'd have done as he did."
XXI
ALONE WITH NATURE
WHEN the party returned to the train after
Jimmy Grayson's thrilling defiance there was
an air of relief, even joyousness, about them all. No
more diplomacy, no more watching for blows in the
dark, no more waiting, now they knew who their
friends were, and they knew equally well their
enemies. They could strike straight at Goodnight,
Crayon, and all the others. Only in the heart of
nearly every one of them there was still mourning
for the lost leader, for "King" Plummer, whom a
gust of passion had led astray.
"Well," said Hobart, "I thank God that the split
has come at last. Even if we are beaten out of our
boots, I've got that defiance to remember, and the
picture of Jimmy Grayson refusing either to be
browbeaten or cajoled, even though the price was
the Presidency."
"We know where we stand," said Mr. Heathcote,
"and that at least is a gain."
As for Sylvia, she was thrilling with pride. Her
uncle's high heroism, his superb truthfulness ap
pealed to every quality in her woman's soul, and
with another impulse full as womanly she hated
Goodnight, Crayon, and their associates with all her
heart; she believed them capable of any crime, per
sonal as well as political. She felt so intensely upon
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THE CANDIDATE
the subject that she wanted to speak of it to some
body else, but Mr. and Mrs. Grayson had withdrawn
to the drawing-room, and all the correspondents were
deep in their work, as it would be necessary to send
very long despatches to the great cities that day.
Harley wrote five or six thousand words full of
fire and zeal. As usual, he wrote from the "inside,"
and his was not a bare record of facts; one reading
it, though three thousand miles away, was upon the
scene himself; everything passed before him alive;
he saw the heroic figure of the candidate thundering
forth his denunciation; he knew all that it cost, the
full penalty, and he shared the stern impulse which
such a speaker in such a situation must feel; he, too,
saw the astonishment on the faces of the committee,
astonishment followed by fear and rage, and he
shared also the noble thrill that must come to a
man who had lost all save honor, but was proud in
the losing. Harley was always a good writer, but
now as he wrote he saw every word burning be
fore him, so intense were his feelings, and even
across the United States he communicated the same
thrill to those who read.
His despatch brought from his abrupt editor the
one word "Splendid!" and it attracted marked at
tention not only wherever the Gazette went, but where
also went the numerous journals into which it was
copied. Everybody who read it said, "What a mag
nificent figure Jimmy Grayson is!" and the impres
sion was deepened and widened by other writers on
the train who were inferior in powers only to Harley.
In this his day of great disaster the candidate was
to find that there were friends who were truly bound
to him with "hooks of steel." Nor was he ungrate
ful. The moisture rose in his eyes when he first heard
36?
THE CANDIDATE
of their accounts, and in privacy he confided to his
wife that he did not know how to thank them.
"If I were you I should not say anything," she
advised. "They will like it better if you don't."
And he did not.
Now the campaign took on a new phase. Even
in the beginning it had differed from any other ever
waged in America, and since the Philipsburg con
ference that difference, already great, increased. It
was permeated throughout by the personal element,
party platforms sank into the background, and in
the foreground stood the titanic figure of Jimmy
Grayson fighting single-handed against a host of
foes.
His hero appealed more powerfully than ever to
Harley; every sympathy within him was aroused
by this lone figure who stood like Horatius at the
bridge the old simile was always coming to him
and under its influence his despatches took on a vivid
coloring and a keen, searching quality that thrilled
all who read. And many other newspapers gave the
same lifelike impression.
The figure of the candidate, although he was ad
mittedly a beaten man, loomed larger than ever to
the whole country, and his enemies, although count
ing already the fruits of victory, began to feel a cer
tain awe of him. They showed an anxiety to keep
away from him, even in what they considered his
dying moments, and no speaker dared to meet him
on the platform, despite the recollections of his de
feat at Egmont. The opposition often alluded to
this "defeat," and sought to make great capital of
it, but the sensation that it had created at first
faded. It was surrounded by too many brilliant tri
umphs ; people would say that on the day of his de-
368
THE CANDIDATE
feat he was ill, like Napoleon at Leipsic; that he was
giving daily proofs that he was without a match in
the world, and one such little incident did not count.
The split in the party was made complete. Mr.
Goodnight, Mr. Crayon, and eighteen of their as
sociates, all men of wealth and influence, came out
in a formal signed statement published first in the
Monitor, stating their position in calmness and mod
eration and in measured language. They said that
they had tried to support Mr. Grayson; they had
given him every chance ; they had always been ready
with advice; they had sought to instil in him a full
sense of his responsibility, and to impart to his mind
the breadth and solidity so necessary in a Presi
dential nominee; they were strong in party loyalty,
and they hesitated long before taking such a mo
mentous step; but they knew that in every great
crisis brave men who would not hesitate at great
risk to lead must be found; therefore they stepped
into the breach. Reluctantly and with much grief
they announced that they could not support Mr.
Grayson. He was a menace to the country, and they
felt that they must remove this danger; hence they
would support the other side, and they advised all
the solid worth of the country, those who cared for
the national honor, to do likewise.
The Monitor commented editorially in its finest
vein upon this tribute to conscience. It was glad to
know that there were yet brave and honest men; it
was never worth while to despair of the republic so
long as such lofty and heroic citizens as Mr. Good
night and Mr. Crayon were vouchsafed to it. The
American people were frivolous and superficial, but
there was a saving remnant, men who might almost
compare with the great statesmen of Europe, and in
4 369
THE CANDIDATE
every emergency, every crisis, it was they who would
make enormous sacrifice of private interest and save
the state.
Churchill followed the lead, and in a long despatch
made a ferocious attack upon Jimmy Grayson, the
man. Then, with a concealed sense of importance,
he waited until the paper arrived, and when the two
hours that he thought necessary to make the im
pression deep had passed he went in to Mr. Gray-
son and announced with an air of great dignity that
he was prepared to leave the train; he felt that as a
keen and remorseless critic his presence would put a
severe constraint upon the candidate; there was
nothing personal in his course, and he did not wish
to prevent anybody from doing his best ; he was aware
that he must be regarded with the greatest hostility
and apprehension, and therefore he would retire,
seeking his news either by going before or by fol
lowing,
"Why, Mr. Churchill!" exclaimed the candidate,
in surprise, "we do not dream of letting you go.
You have been so long with us that your place could
not be filled. I cannot consent to such a thing!
You must stay with us to the end!"
Churchill felt that his shot had missed again, but
he said:
"I spoke out of consideration. I thought that my
continued presence here might have a somewhat dis
concerting effect upon you."
"Not at all! Not at all!" replied the candidate,
courageously. "It's a blow, but we prefer to bear
it rather than lose you. Ah, here is my niece, Sylvia;
perhaps she can persuade you. Sylvia, Mr. Church
ill speaks of leaving us; he thinks that he ought to
do so because he is a critic of us. Sylvia, I leave
37o
THE CANDIDATE
him in your hands, and I want you to persuade him
that it is only his exaggerated sense of honor." .
Sylvia was not averse to the task. She was whol
ly feminine, and hence there was in her a trace of
cajolery which she now used. She told Churchill
that her uncle and all his friends felt the truth and
edge of his criticisms, but they felt, too, that al
though he was in the opposition now, they might,
nevertheless, profit by them. And there was the in
fluence of his personal presence on the train his
gravity of manner and his weighed and measured
speech were a useful antidote to the flippancy and
levity of his associates.
Sylvia said these things rather by indirection than
by plain words, and under the influence of such
soothing speech Churchill gradually melted and be
came forgiving; he would stay, but it was partly for
the sake of Miss Morgan that he stayed, and later in
the day he confided to Mr. Heathcote that he was
surprised at the way Sylvia was coming out; she
really had strong and attractive qualities; if she were
to marry a man of refinement and knowledge of the
world who would exercise a stimulating and also a
corrective influence upon her, she might become a
very fine woman. Mr. Heathcote bowed assent, but
looked away from Churchill and out of the win
dow. Churchill's opinion of Mr. Heathcote also im
proved.
There was yet one element in the situation that
was not clarified. Mr. Plummer not only failed to
appear upon the scene, but did not communicate
in any manner with either the Graysons or Sylvia.
They heard of him as floating about the Northwest
and full of hot talk, but no one could put his hand
upon him, and they were puzzled, because they had
37i
THE CANDIDATE
expected decisive, straight-from-the-shoulder action
from the "King."
In this week Harley saw Sylvia almost every hour
in the day, but never once did he speak of the sub
ject that was nearest both their hearts. Sometimes
he thought that it would have been better had the
Graysons granted her request to go, because he could
see that she was suffering from a constant nervous
strain, and that her gayety with the group was often
forced.
They came at last to Graf ton, a village in the cor
ner of North Dakota, where a sweep of low moun
tains opens out for a space and forms a wide val
ley. In that hollow lies Graf ton, and to Harley it
looked warm and inviting. The candidate was to
speak here, and as Harley ascertained in advance
that Mr. Grayson did not intend to say anything
new, merely repeating a speech of the day before, he
did not consider it necessary to be present; instead,
he chose to take a walk through the town and its
outskirts for the sake of fresh air, exercise, and some
solitary musing.
The autumn was far advanced in that Northern
latitude, but the chill of winter had not yet come.
The wide sky of glittering blue hung high, and in
the thin air the mountain-peaks that stood far away
came near; the wooden houses of the new town were
gilded and softened by the yellow sunshine.
Harley saw the usual audience the ranchmen, the
sheep-herders, the miners, and the railroad-menall
flocking towards the stand where the candidate would
speak, and exchanging jocose or admiring comment,
because this was to them both a holiday and a
ceremony.
Only a minute or two sufficed to carry him to the
37 2
THE CANDIDATE
outskirts of the little town, and he would have paid
no further attention to the crowd, but he thought
he saw on its fringe a broad, powerful back that he
knew. When he undertook to take the second look
and make sure the back was gone, and Harley went
on, telling himself, as one is apt to do, that it was
only his fancy. The echo of cheering came to his
ears, and he knew that the candidate, as usual, held
the audience in his grasp. Presently the echo died,
and those that followed it did not come to him, as
he had left the town behind; although from the low
crest of a swell he could see the heads of the people
surrounding Jimmy Grayson, and by the way they
bobbed back and forth he knew that the enthusiasm
was boiling.
He went down the far side of the swell, passed a
clump of bushes, and came face to face with Sylvia
Morgan. She, too, leaving the speech, had been
walking, and the color of her face was deepened by
the exercise and the crisp, bracing air. It had given
her, also, an obvious exhilaration, probably physical,
that Harley had not seen before in a long time, and
her smile was of pure welcoming joy.
Harley's was an answering smile, but his heart
was full of a longing and an anger equally fierce.
Never had she seemed to him more to be desired than
on that morning; tall, straight, and young, instinct
with the life and strength of the great upland reaches
upon which she lived, her pure soul looking out of
her pure eyes, she was a woman to be won by the
man to whom her love was given, and he rebelled
because he did not have the right. Temptation was
strong within him, and he had excuse.
"Speeches, however good, do not appeal to you
to-day?" he said.
373
THE CANDIDATE
s*
"No, I prefer the mountains."
She pointed to the line of peaks that formed a
border of darker blue on the horizon.
"So do I," said Harley, with emphasis, but he
meant, at that moment, that he was glad to be alone
with her.
"Since chance has brought us together," he said,
"why should we not continue in this way?"
They walked on, and he was very close to her,
so close that when a wanton wind caught a stray
ringlet of her hair it brushed lightly against his
cheek. Faint and fleeting as was the touch, every
nerve thrilled. He said fiercely to himself that she
was his and should remain his.
They came to a little brook, a stream of ice-cold
water flowing down from the distant mountains, and
he helped her across, although a single step would
have carried her from bank to bank. Then, too, he
held her hand in his longer than the case warranted,
and again he tingled. He said nothing, nor did she,
but she glanced at him and she was a little afraid;
his lips were closed in the firm fashion that she knew,
and his eyes were on the distant mountains. Behind
them came a broad shadow, but neither looked back.
Jimmy Grayson was a great man, but Caesar and
his fortunes were now completely forgotten by both
Harley and Sylvia; each was thinking only of the
other, and though they were still silent, they wan
dered on and on, Sylvia content that Harley was by
her side, and Harley happy to feel her so near that
her hair blown in the wind had touched his face.
Had they looked back they would have seen the
shadow come a little nearer and raise its arm in an
angry gesture. The town sank behind the swells,
and before lay only a brown expanse of country that
374
THE CANDIDATE
rolled away with unbroken monotony. A slight gray
ish tint, as of a mist, crept into the glittering blue
of the sky, but Harley and Sylvia did not notice it.
Sylvia felt, in a way, as if she were in a state of
suspended animation. The world had paused for a
moment, and for that reason she knew that fate
was impending; she, too, felt a thrill running through
every nerve, and she felt the presence, so near her,
of the man whom she loved, and would always love.
He was master to-day, and she knew that she would
do whatever he should ask her; all her resolves, all
the long course of strengthening through which she
might put herself would melt away in the heat of
an emotion that was too strong for her; if he said
that they should slip back to the town, take a train
to the next station and get married there, forgetful
of her promise, "King" Plummer, the campaign,
her uncle, and everything else, she would go with
him. But she remembered to pray that he would
not say it.
Harley still did not speak. He, too, was struggling
with himself, and saying, over and over under his
breath, that he should remember his duty. Sylvia
glanced at him covertly from time to time, and,
while she yet felt a little fear, she admired the firm
curve of his chin and the clear cut of his face. They
came at last to a clump of dwarfed trees, sheltered
between the swells, and they stopped.
"Sylvia," said Harley, "I felt only joy when I
met you, but I am sorry now that the chance brought
us together this time, because it is a greater grief to
see you go. I thought once that we might be to
gether always, because I know that you are mine,
mine in spirit at least, no matter to whom the law
may give you, but now "
THE CANDIDATE
He broke off and looked at her with longing.
" It is better that I should leave you and go alone,"
she said.
She held out her hand.
"This is a good-bye," she said.
"But it shall not be so cold a one!" he exclaimed.
He put his arms around her, and kissed her full
upon the lips.
"Oh, John!" she cried, and when he released her
she ran back upon their path, her face very red,
although she was in no wise angry with him. Har-
ley walked on, and he did not raise his head until
the shadow that followed them stood across his way.
Then, when he looked up, he found himself gazing
into the muzzle of a very large revolver, held by a
large, brown hand. Behind the hand, and lowering
at him, was the inflamed and determined face of
"King" Plummer.
In this crisis neither of the two wasted words.
Each was a man of action, and each knew that long
speech was vanity of vanities.
Harley was pale; life was sweet, never sweeter than
when it seemed to be leaving, but he did not flinch.
"You have stolen her from me," said the "King."
"I saw what you did there; you ought to be willing
to pay the price."
"I object to the word 'stolen,'" said Harley, calm
ly. "The love of Sylvia Morgan is not a thing that
could be stolen by anybody."
"Words differ, but acts don't. I've been a bor
der man, and I've got to do things in the border way."
"One of which is to come armed upon an unarmed
man?"
Harley saw the "King" flinch, but the finger did
not leave the trigger.
376
THE CANDIDATE
" You took from me when I wasn't looking all that
I love best, and I'll take from you all I can."
The red face of "King" Plummer suddenly turned
gray, and Harley saw it, but he did not see what
caused it. There was the light, swift tread of foot
steps behind him, a warm breath upon his face, and
then Sylvia's arms were around his neck and she was
upon his breast.
"Shoot if you want to," she said to the "King,"
"but your bullet will strike me first."
Her eyes, for the first time in her life, sparkled
defiance at him, and their gaze stabbed the "King"
to the heart.
Harley strove to put her aside, but she clung to
him with strong, young arms.
The " King's" face, pale before, now became white.
It was, perhaps, the first time in his life that all
the blood had left it, and it showed the power of
this new and sudden emotion. "King" Plummer,
in a flash, saw many things. The finger that lay
upon the trigger trembled, and then, with a cry of
fear, this man who feared no other man threw his
pistol to the earth.
"My God, Sylvia!" he exclaimed. "What do you
think I am?"
"Not a murderer!"
" No, I am not; but I came very near to being one."'
He looked at the two, in each other's arms as it
were, and turned away, leaving the pistol upon the
ground. "King" Plummer had seen enough for one
day.
They watched him until the broad back passed
over a swell and was lost. Then Sylvia, blushing,
remembered, and took her arms from Harley's neck.
"You have saved my life," said Harley,
377 '
"I do not think that he would have fired."
"You have saved it, anyhow. Now it is yours,
and you must take it. He cannot claim you after
this."
The blush became brilliant.
"He has not given me up. He has not said so."
"But he will give you up. He shall. You are
mine now. Come!"
He took her unresisting hand in his, and again they
walked side by side, so close that the strong wind
once more brushed the little ringlet against his cheek.
It is a peculiarity of Grafton that the low swells
around it, rolling away towards the mountains, look
just alike everywhere. One has to be a resident, and
an old-timer at that, to be able to tell one from an
other. Harley and Sylvia, hand-in-hand, had little
thought of such things as these, nor were they anx
ious to reach Grafton quickly ; yet the time when they
must be there would come, and Harley at last in
terrupted a pleasanter occupation by exclaiming:
" Why, where is Grafton ? We should have reached
it long ago!" ,
Sylvia saw only the low swells, rolling away, one
after the other; there was no glimpse of a house, no
smoke on the horizon to tell where the village had
hid itself so suddenly. Around them were the low
ridges, and afar the circle of blue mountains. Save
for themselves, it seemed a lone and desolate world.
Sylvia became white; she knew their situation better
than Harley.
"We have lost the town! We mistook the direc
tion!" she said.
"We can easily find it again; it must be there."
He pointed in the direction in which he thought
Grafton lay, and continued:
378
"It will merely make our walk back to town the
longer, and that is what I like."
But she, who had lived her life on the plains and
in the mountains, was not so sure. She knew that
they had walked far, because not even the smoke of
Grafton could be seen now. Yet he was with her.
"Suppose we try that direction," she assented.
"And if it isn't right, we will try another; our
train stays at Grafton all day."
They walked on, saying to each other the little
things that mean nothing to others, but which lovers
love, and Grafton yet lay hidden in its place between
the swells. The skies, changing now from a bright
to a steely gray, were unmarred by a single wisp of
smoke.
Harley felt at last an uneasiness which increased
gradually as they went on; the country was pro-
vokingly monotonous, one swell was like another,
and the dips between were just the same; there were
patches of brown grass eaten down by cattle, but
mostly the soil was bare; it seemed to Harley, at
that moment, a weary and ugly land, but it set off
the star in the midst of it Sylvia like a diamond
in the dust. He looked up; the mountains, before
blue and distinct in the clear sky, were now gray and
vague.
" We must have walked fast and far," he said. " Look
how that range of mountains has moved away."
Sylvia looked, and her face whitened again.
"It is not distance, John," she said. "It is a
mist. See, the clouds are coming!"
The mountains moved farther away and became
shadowy; the steel-gray of the skies darkened; up
from the southwest rolled ugly brown clouds ; there
was a rush of chill air.
379
THE CANDIDATE
Harley understood all, and a shiver passed over
him. But his fear was for her, not for himself.
"It is going to snow," said Sylvia.
"And we are lost in this desert; it was I, too, who
brought you here," said Harley.
She looked up into his eyes, and her face was not
pale.
"We are together," she said.
He bent his head and kissed her, for the second
time that day.
" You are the bravest woman in the world, Sylvia,"
he said. "Now we live or die together, and we are
not afraid."
"We are not afraid."
He put his arm around her waist, and she did not
resist. Both expected to die, and they felt that they
belonged to each other for eternity. A strange, spir
itual exaltation possessed them ; the world about them
was unreal now they two were all that was real.
"The snow comes, dearest," she said.
Up from the southwest the ugly brown clouds were
still rolling, and the sky above them still darkened;
the mountains were gone in the mist, the chill wind
strengthened and shrieked over the plain. Harley
kept his arm around Sylvia's waist, and drew her
more closely to him that he might shelter her.
"Let the snow come," he said.
Great white flakes, borne upon the edge of the
wind, fell damp upon their faces, and suddenly the
air was rilled with them as they came in blinding
clouds; the wind ceased to shriek and died, and the
brown clouds, now fused into one mass that covered
all the heavens, opened and let down the snow in
unbroken volume.
"We must go on, sweetheart," said Harley, rous-
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THE CANDIDATE
ing himself. "To stand here is death. We may find
some kind of shelter if we go; there is none in this
place."
They walked on, their heads bent a little, as the
snow was coming straight down. They could not see
twenty yards before them through the white cloud,
and Harley was scarcely conscious whether they
climbed the swells or descended into the dips be
tween.
Sylvia covered her head with a small shawl that
she wore. Harley wanted to take off his coat and
wrap it around her, but she would not let him.
"I am not cold," she said; "I think it is the walk
ing that keeps me warm."
It was partly that, but it was more the presence of
Harley and the state of spiritual exaltation in which
they remained. Both took it as a matter of course
that they were to die in a few hours, but they had no
fear of this death, and it was not even worth while to
talk or think of it. Harley had spoken merely through
habit and instinct of moving on lest they die, and it
was these same unconscious motives that made them
struggle, although they took no interest in their own
efforts.
"We may come to a clump of trees," said Sylvia,
"or to a hollow in a rocky hill-side; that happens
sometimes in this part of the Dakotas."
"Maybe we shall," said Harley, but he thought no
more about it.
The wind rose again and swept over the plain with
a shriek and a howl. Columns and cones of snow
were whirled past them and over them ; wind and snow
together made it harder for them to keep their feet.
" If we don't find that hollow soon, we won't need
it," said Harley.
THE CANDIDATE
"No," she said.
She was very close to him, and when she looked
up he could see a smile on her face.
"Death is not terrible," she said.
"Not with you."
The shriek of the wind had now become a moan
like the moan of a desolate world. They came to
two or three dwarfed trees growing close to one an
other, but they gave no shelter, and, Harley being
in dread lest branches should be blown off and against
Sylvia, they went on.
"What will they think has become of us?" said
Sylvia.
But the only thought it brought into Harley's
mind at that moment was the interruption it would
cause to the campaign. He was sorry for Jimmy
Grayson. He felt that the girl's step was grow
ing less steady. Obviously she was becoming
weaker.
"Lean against me," he said; "I am strong enough
for both."
She said nothing, but he felt her shoulder press
more heavily against him. He drew his hat-brim
down that he might keep the whirling flakes from
his eyes, and staggered blindly forward. His knee
struck against something hard, and, putting out his
hand, he touched stone and earth.
"Here is a hill," he said, without joy, and he
uncovered his eyes again to seek shelter. He did
not find it there, but farther on, in another hill, was
a rocky alcove that in earlier days had been the den
of some wild animal. It was carpeted with old dead
leaves, and it faced the east, while the wind and the
snow came from the southwest. It was only a hol
low, running back three or four feet, and one must
38*
THE CANDIDATE
crouch to enter; but except near the door there was
no snow in it, and the storm drove by in vain.
"Here is our house, Sylvia," exclaimed Harley,
with a strong ring in his voice, and he drew her in.
He raked up the old, musty, dead leaves in a heap,
and made her sit upon them. He was the man now,
the masculine animal who ruled, and she obeyed
without protest.
"Hark to the storm! How the wind whistles!"
he said.
Pyramids and columns of snow whirled by the
mouth of their little hollow, and they crouched close
together. Out upon the plain the shriek of the wind
was weird and unearthly. Now and then some blast,
fiercer and more tortuous than the rest, drove a
fringe of snow so far into the hollow that it fell a
wet skim across their faces.
Sylvia did not move or speak for a long time, and
when Harley looked out again the snow was thinner
but the wind was still high, and it was growing much
colder. The blast lashed his face with a whip of ice.
He turned back in alarm, and took Sylvia's hand
in his. It was cold, and it seemed to him that the
blood in it had ceased to run.
"Sylvia! Sylvia!" he cried in fear, and not know
ing what else to say. "What is the matter?"
"This, I think, is death," she replied, in sleepy
content.
It was dark in the hollow, whether the darkness
of coming night or the darkness of the storm Harley
did not know nor care. He could not see her face,
but he touched it; it, too, was cold.
He felt a pang of agony. When both expected to
die he had neither fear nor sorrow; now she was
about to die alone and leave him!
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THE CANDIDATE
"Sylvia! Sylvia!" he cried. "It is not death!
You cannot go!"
He rubbed her hands violently, and even her
cheeks. He called to her over and over again, and
she awoke from her numbing torpor.
"It was beginning to be like an easy sleep," she
said.
"That is what we must fight," said Harley.
He brushed up all the leaves at the mouth of the
hollow as a sort of barrier, and he believed that it
gave help. Then he sat down on a small ledge of
stone and leaned against the wall.
"Sylvia," he said, "I want you to live, and you
cannot live if this cold creeps into your body again.
Sit here."
She hesitated, and in the darkness he did not see
her blush.
"Why should you not? It may be our last day."
He drew her down upon his knees, then closer to
him, and put his arms around her. Presently he
could feel her face against his, and it was cold no
longer. Neither spoke nor moved, but Harley could
feel that she was warm, and he could hear her soft,
regular breathing. After a while he stirred a little,
and he found that she was asleep. Her hands and
face were still warm. He did not move again. She
spoke once in her sleep, and all that she said was his
name.
Outside the plain was a vast sheet of snow, over
which the cold wind moaned, and out of the east the
night was coming.
WHEN "King" Plummet left Harley and Sylvia
on the plain, he strode blindly forward, his
heart filled with rage, grief, and self-accusation.
He said aloud: "William Plummer, you are fifty
years old, and you have made of yourself the damned
est fool in the whole Northwest!"
Hitherto he had always held the belief that if
Harley were away she would soon forget him and
would be happy as his wife. Now he knew that this
could never come to pass, and the truth filled him
with dismay.
He had ridden across country with no knowledge
of Mr. Grayson's presence in Grafton until he was
very near the place; then, when he heard of it, he
was overwhelmed with a great desire to see these
people and bid them defiance. He was a man who
fought his enemies, and he would show them what
he could do. So he rode into Grafton, and slipped
quietly into a saloon to get a tonic. He was a
border man bred in border ways, and usually liquor
would have had no effect on him, but to - day
it was fire to a brain already on fire. All his griev
ances now became great wrongs he was an injured
man whom the world persecuted; Grayson, for whom
he had done so much in political life, had betrayed
him; the girl whom he was going to marry had be-
*s 385
THE CANDIDATE
trayed him, too, and this young Eastern slip, Harley,
was surely laughing at him.
These thoughts were intolerable to the "King,"
who had hitherto been victorious always, and now
his rage centred on Harley; he saw Harley every
where, at every point of the compass wherever he
looked, and when he came out of the saloon and
went down the deserted street he saw Harley in
reality, strolling along absently, his eyes upon the
ground. He thought first that the correspondent
was on his way to join the crowd around the speak
er's stand, but he soon perceived that he was going
in another direction. It was "King" Plummer's
first impulse there was still liquid fire in his veins
to overtake Harley and demand the only kind of
satisfaction that such a man as he should have. Then
he wished to see where Harley was going, because
he had a premonition false in this case, the meet
ing was by accident that he was on his way to
Sylvia; so he decided to follow as an animal stalks
its game. Only the most powerful emotion con
joined with other circumstances could have made the
" King" do such a thing, as his nature was essentially
open, and he loved open methods. Yet he trailed his
enemy with the skill and cunning of an Indian.
He saw Harley and Sylvia meet, and all his sus
picions were confirmed. Again he felt a fierce im
pulse, and it was to rush upon the guilty pair, but
he restrained it and still followed. His perceptions
were trained to other things, but he was in no danger
of being seen by them ; they were too much absorbed
in each other, and all the world passed by them un
noticed. The "King," though a rough, blunt man,
saw this, and it made the fire in him burn the hotter.
He saw them stop at last, he saw Harley kiss
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THE CANDIDATE
Sylvia, and then he saw the girl turn away. He
waited until he saw Sylvia pass over the swell, and
then he took his opportunity. Whether he would
have fired if Sylvia had not come he could not say
to himself afterwards in his cooler moments. Re
morse upon this point tortured him for some time.
When he turned away he saw nothing. He was
agitated by the powerful truth that Sylvia preferred
death with Harley to life with him, and all his views
were inward. He still did not know what he would
do, but there was much of a moving nature to him
in the scene that he left. He had never before seen
such a look on a woman's face as that on Sylvia's
when she threw herself upon Harley's breast and
defied his bullet ; it was beautiful and wonderfully pa
thetic, and something like a sob came from the burly
"King." Harley, too, had borne himself like a man;
there was no fear in the face of the Eastern youth
when he looked into the muzzle of the pistol that
threatened instant death; "King" Plummer remem
bered more than once in the early days when he
had been covered by the levelled weapon of an enemy,
and he knew how hard it was in such a case to con
trol one's nerves and keep steady. He could not
help respecting a courage fully the equal of his own.
He wandered on in a series of circles that did not
take him far, and in a half-hour he stopped at the
crest of a swell higher than the rest. He saw Sylvia
and Harley far away but he knew them well
walking side by side. " Well, I suppose they have
the right!" he said, moodily. The fire within him
was dying down, but he added; "I'll be damned if I
look at them making love."
The "King" had the habits bred by long years of
necessity and precaution, and unless the distracting
387
THE CANDIDATE
circumstances were very powerful he was always a
keen observer of weather and locality. Now the fire
was low, but he was almost at the edge of the town
before his blood became normal and cool. Then he
looked about. A half-mile away he saw a mass of
heads, sometimes rising and falling, and a faint echo
of cheers came to him. He knew that the candidate
was still speaking, and he smiled rather sourly. Then
he was conscious that the sunshine was not so brill
iant, and there was a feeling of chill damp in the
wind that came up from the southwest.
The "King" glanced up at the sky; it had turned
a steely gray, and ugly brown clouds were coming up
over the rim of the southwestern horizon. "There's
going to be an early snow," he said, and for the mo
ment the matter gave him no further concern. Then
Sylvia and Harley suddenly shot up and filled his
whole horizon. He had seen them far from where
he stood, and they were going directly away from the
town, not towards it! And one was a girl and the
other a tenderfoot!
Now Harley disappeared from the "King's"
horizon as suddenly as he had come into it, and the
solitary figure of Sylvia filled all its space. She was
not a woman now, but the desolate little girl whom
he had found alone in the mountains, vainly trying
to bury her massacred dead, and whom he had car
ried away on his saddle-bow. All the long years of
protection and tenderness that he had given her
came back to him; there was only the image of the
slim little girl with flying curls who ran to meet him
and who called him "Daddy!"
That little girl was lost out there on the plain,
and as sure as the sun had gone from the heavens a
snow-storm was coming fast on the wings of the
388
THE CANDIDATE
southwestern wind. He knew, and his heart was
filled with grief and despair ; no rage was left there ;
that fire had burned out completely, and it seemed
to the "King" that it never could be lighted again.
It was wonderful now to him that the flame could
ever have been so fierce. And the boy Harley
was lost, too. Mr. Plummer again remembered,
and with a certain admiration, how brave Harley had
been, and he remembered, too, that when he first
saw him his impulse was to like him greatly.
He ran back towards the swell where he had last
beheld them, hoping to find them or at least to fol
low upon their traces before the snow fell and hid the
trail. He was an old frontiersman, and with a favor
able soil he might do it. But long before he reach
ed the swell the snow flew, and the brown clouds
and the whirling flakes together blotted out all the
plain, save the little circle in which he stood.
He raised his powerful voice and called in tones
that carried far, "Sylvia! Sylvia!" But no sound
came back save the lonely cry of the wind and the
soft, whirring rush of the snow, like the soft beat of
wings. The "King" was a brave and sanguine man,
physically and mentally disposed to hope, but his
heart dropped like lead in water. He saw the slim
little girl, with flying brown hair, dead and cold in
the snow. Then his courage came back, and with
it all his mental coolness. He did not seek to rush
after them, floundering here and there in the semi-
darkness and calling vainly, but hurried back to the
town.
The people had just returned from the candidate's
speech, and were crowding into the lobby of the
hotel to shake Mr. Grayson's hand and to tell him
that he would win by a "million majority." The
389
candidate was enduring this ordeal with his usual
good-nature and grace, although the crowded room
was hot and close, and the odor of steaming boots
arose.
Into this packed mass of human beings "King"
Plummer burst like a bomb. "Help! All of you!"
he cried, and his voice cracked like a rifle. "They
are lost out on the plain in the storm, and they were
wandering away from the town! Miss Morgan!
Sylvia! My child! And the young man, Harley!"
There was no mistaking the "King's" meaning.
Here was a mountain man, one who knew of what
he was talking, one who would raise no false alarm.
Both grief and command were in his voice, and the
Dakotans responded upon the instant; they knew
Sylvia, too her fresh, young beauty, coming into so
small a town, was noticed at once. To the last man
they went out into the storm to the rescue ; and there
were many women who were willing, too.
The candidate seized Mr. Plummer's arm in a
fierce grasp.
"Do you mean to say that Sylvia and Harley are
lost in that?" he cried, and he pointed into the mass
of driving snow.
"Ay, they are there," said the "King," "but we
will find them."
"We will find them," echoed Jimmy Grayson, and,
though they strove to make him stay at the hotel,
he drew his overcoat about his ears and was by his
side as "King" Plummer led the way. Hobart,
Blaisdell, even old Tremaine, and Churchill as well,
were there, too.
They knew that Sylvia and Harley were some
where north of the town, and, dividing into groups,
five or six to a group, they spread out to a great
39P
THE CANDIDATE
distance. They carried whiskey for warmth, and
lanterns with which to signal to each other, and for
guidance in the night that might come before they
returned. In the twilight of the storm these lan
terns twinkled dimly.
The "King" himself carried a lantern, and Jimmy
Grayson, by his side, could read his face. Mr.
Plummer had not told him a word, but he could
guess the story. He had come upon them, there was
a violent scene of some kind, and now the "King,"
with death threatening "his little girl," was stricken
with remorse. All the candidate's anger against
Mr. Plummer was gone, melted away suddenly and
he saw that the "King's" wrath against himself was
gone the same way. Now he felt only pity for the
stricken man.
The great line of men moved across the plain tow
ards the north, calling to each other now and then
and waving the dim lanterns. Jimmy Grayson lis
tened for the welcome cry that the lost had been
found, but it did not come. The "King" did not
speak save to give orders he had naturally assumed
command of the relief party, and his position was
not disputed.
They advanced far northward, and they noticed
with increased alarm the thickening of the storm.
Whirlwinds of snow beat in their faces. Jimmy
Grayson once heard the big, burly man by his side
say, in a kind of sobbing whisper, "Oh, my little
girl!" and he felt a catch in his own throat.
Then he repeated the "King's" own words, "We
will find them."
"And alive!" said the "King," in fierce defiance.
He did not speak again for a long time. He seem
ed to become unconscious of the presence by his
39 1
THE CANDIDATE
side of Jimmy Grayson, the man whom in his hot
wrath he had threatened to betray. At last he
turned his head and said, as if it were an impulse:
"Mr. Grayson, they said I was going to knife you,
and I meant to do it! They tempted me, and I was
willing to be tempted by them; but, by God! I gave
them no promise and I won't. I was your friend,
and I'm your friend again!"
"A better I never hope to have," said Jimmy
Grayson, and in the storm the hands of the two men
met in a grasp as true as it was strong.
"We will not speak of this again," said Mr. Gray-
son and they never did. A resident of Graf ton,
Mr. Harrison, came up to them, fighting his way
through the snow.
"Mr. Plummer," he said, "there are some rocky
hills three or four miles north of here, with hollows
and sort of half-way caves here and there in their
sides. It's barely possible that Mr. Harley and Miss
Morgan have got to one of those places. I think we
ought to go there at once, because, because "
The man's voice failed.
"Speak out," said the "King," "I can stand it."
"Well, it's just this, though I hate to say it. It's
a sure thing that they've gone a long distance, an'
if they've hit on one of the hollows we're likely to
find 'em alive if we get there pretty soon, but if they
ain't in a hollow they'll be they'll be "
"They'll be dead when we do find them. Take
us to the hills, Mr. Harrison."
The man, lantern in hand, strode on, and with him
were Mr. Grayson and Mr. Plummer. Hobart was
at the candidate's elbow. Twilight was at hand
and the darkness was increasing, although the snow
was thinning. Hobart, peering out on the plain,
392
THE CANDIDATE
saw only the swells of snow rising and falling like a
white sea, and overhead the sky of sullen clouds.
He marked the agony on the faces of the candidate
and the "King," and his own heart was heavy.
There was no thrill over a mystery now; the lost
were too dear to him.
"It's night," said Mr. Plummer. In his heart was
the fear that the two, overpowered, had fallen down
and slowly frozen to death under the snow, but he
did not dare to whisper it to others.
It was heavy work going through the drifts and
keeping the right way over a plain that had the
similarity of the sea, but the men did not falter.
Jimmy Grayson was always looking into the dark
ness, striving to see the darker line or blur that
would mark the hills, but he asked no questions.
The snow ceased, and after a while low, black slopes
appeared against the dusky horizon.
"The hills!" said the candidate, and the Graf ton
man nodded. They increased their pace until they
were almost running. Neither Mr. Grayson nor Mr.
Plummer knew it, but the Grafton man had little hope ;
he had merely suggested the place as a last chance.
It took them much longer than they thought or
hoped to reach the hills, but when they came to
them they began a rapid search. The "King" and
the candidate were still together, and the former had
taken a lantern from one of the men. They had
been looking among the hills for about a quarter of
an hour, and they drew somewhat away from the
others. The "King" raised his lantern at intervals
and threw ribbons of light along the white slopes.
They came to a hill a little higher than the rest,
and he raised the lantern again. It was not a white
reflection that came, but something misty and brown.
393
THE CANDIDATE
"Dead leaves!" cried the "King." "It's a cave
or a hollow."
He raised the lantern higher, and the light shone
directly in at the opening; it shone, too, upon Sylvia's
face as she lay asleep in Harley's arms.
"Babes in the wood!" muttered Hobart, who had
come up behind them.
The "King" paused a moment. The picture ap
pealed to him, too, and he saw then in Harley only
the rescuer of "his little girl." His heart yearned
over Harley also. Then he uttered a joyous shout,
dropped his lantern, and seized Sylvia. "Daddy,"
she said, awakening and putting her arms around
his neck, "I've come back."
"God bless you, my child, my daughter!" he
said.
To Harley it was all a dream; there was some
thing the matter with him there was a sort of dull,
unreal feeling, and these men that he knew seemed
to be very far away. Nor did he understand why
they pulled him out so roughly, rubbed snow on his
face and ears, and chafed his hands violently. After
wards he remembered hearing dimly some one say,
"We're just in time; he was freezing to death," and
then he wished they would be gentler. Fiery stuff
was poured down his throat, and he coughed and
struggled, but they had no mercy. Then they com
mitted the crowning outrage they took him by the
arms, held him up and made him run back and forth
in the snow. After that the pain came; there were
strong needle-pricks all through him, and he heard
some one say in a foolish tone of satisfaction, " He's
coming around all right." Then they poured more
fiery stuff down his throat.
After a while the needle pains ceased, and Harley
394
THE CANDIDATE
understood that they had saved him from freezing
to death. He thought at once of Sylvia; there she
stood wrapped from chin to heel in a great fur coat,
and she smiled at him.
It was a slow but happy walk back to Grafton.
The "King's" joyful shout had been repeated and
passed on to all the searchers, and all the lanterns
had been whirled aloft in rejoicing signal. Mes
sengers were already hurrying on to Grafton with
the news.
Harley walked by the side of Mr. Grayson, who
had given his hand one strong clasp and who had
said, "Harley, it was like finding a brother." Sylvia
leaned on Mr. Plummer's arm because the whole of
her strength had not yet come back. "Daddy,"
she whispered, "where did you come from? We've
been waiting for you a long time."
"Something up there must have called me," he
replied, reverently, pointing to the heavens, in which
the new stars twinkled. "Sylvia," he continued,
"I'm not a fool any more. Forgive your old daddy
and you can love the boy."
" Not unless you are really, truly, and wholly will
ing, daddy."
"Really, truly, and wholly, my little girl."
"Now you must tell him so, daddy."
"I'll tell him so."
They were startled by Sylvia suddenly stopping,
throwing her arms around Mr. Plummer's neck, and
kissing him. But they ascribed it to the hysteria
natural in a woman under such circumstances.
The world was still unreal to Harley. Now and
then the people with whom he was walking seemed
very far away, merely vague black shadows on the
white plain of snow ; all but Sylvia, who smiled again
395
THE CANDIDATE
at him, and who he thought had drawn him back to
earth.
As they approached the town the "King" gave
Sylvia to her uncle and fell back a little, until he was
by the side of Harley.
"Lad," he said, and he used the word because he
felt that Harley was very much younger than he,
"you've won her and she's yours; I'll give her to
you. I've played the part of father to her, and it's
what I ought to keep on playing. I see it now. I
guess I keep a daughter and gain a son."
Harley looked squarely into his eyes the world
was real now and he saw the utmost sincerity there.
"Mr. Plummer," he said, "you are one of God's
noblemen."
The "King's" hand and Harley 's met in a strong
and true grip, and those who noticed thought it was
another incident due wholly to the stress of the night
and the storm.
When they reached the town Mrs. Grayson took
Sylvia in her arms and the others left her. Jimmy
Grayson was to speak the next day at Freeport,
a village a little farther on, but that speech was
never delivered, and when the Freeport people
heard the reason they made no complaint.
It was announced the next morning that Mrs.
Grayson and Sylvia would leave at once for the can
didate's home, as their part of the campaign was fin
ished, but Harley found Sylvia alone in the little parlor
of the hotel. She was sitting by the window looking
out at the vast snowy plains and the dim blue moun
tains afar, and apparently she did not hear him as
he entered, although he closed the door behind him
with a slight noise. He leaned over her and took
one of her hands in both of his.
396
THE CANDIDATE
"Sylvia," he said, "won't you come away from the
window a moment?"
He did not wait for her answer, but drew her away.
"I do not want any one in the street to see me
kiss you," he said, and he kissed her.
Her cheeks, already red, grew redder.
"You mustn't do that," she said.
"I can't help myself," he said, humbly, and did
it again.
"I have the right," he added, "because you are
mine now. Last night Mr. Plummer, of his own free
will and volition, gave you to me."
"Good old daddy!" she murmured.
XXIII
ELECTION NIGHT
AT last came the great day which was to tell
whether their efforts were a brilliant success or
a dire failure there was no middle ground and the
special train took them to the small city in which
the candidate lived. All the correspondents were
yet with him, as on the eventful night following the
eventful day they must tell the world how Jimmy
Grayson looked and what he said when the wires
brought the news, good or bad. A few faithful po
litical friends had been invited also to stay with him
to the end, and they completed the group which
would share the hospitality of the candidate, who
must smile and be the good host while the nation
was returning his sentence. Harley thought it a bit
ter ordeal, but it could not be helped.
After his recognition of the great fact that Sylvia
and Harley loved each other and belonged to each
other, "King" Plummer had gone to Idaho for a
while, but he rejoined them on the homeward journey,
and his spirits seemed fully recovered. He drifted
easily in conversation about her into the old paternal
relationship with Sylvia which became him so well,
and he never again alluded to that vain dream of
his that he might be something else. Moreover,
after his temporary alienation he had become a
more ardent Graysonite than ever, and would not
398
THE CANDIDATE
hear of anything except his triumphant election, de*
spite the immense power of the forces allied against
him.
While they changed cars often in the West, the
one that bore them to the candidate's town had been
their home for several weeks, and even the engine was
the same; thus the train attendants fell under the
spell of Jimmy Grayson, and when he walked down
their car-steps for the last time they came around
him in their soiled working clothes and wished him
success. It was scarcely dawn then, the east was
not yet white, but Harley could see sincerity written
all over their honest faces, and Jimmy Grayson, who
had listened to ten thousand words of the same
kind, some true and some false, was much moved.
"Sir," said the engineer, "at midnight, when the
tale is told, I shall be three hundred miles from here,
but if you are not the man, then it is a tale that I
shall not care to hear."
"Friends," said Jimmy Grayson, gravely, "I am
glad to have your good wishes; the good wish is the
father of the good act, and whatever tale the coming
night has to tell let us endure it without vaunting
or complaint."
As Mr. Grayson and his friends walked away in
the growing dawn, the railroad men raised a cheer.
A little later Harley heard the puff, puff of a loco
motive followed by the grinding of wheels, and the
train which had been their home whirled away into
that West where they had seen and done so many
strange things. Harley tried to follow it awhile with
his eyes, because this was like a parting with a
human being, an old and faithful friend; he felt, too,
that the most vivid chapter yet in his life was closing.
Unconsciously he raised his hand and waved good-
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bye; the others, noticing the act, understood and
were silent.
All were under the influence of the morning, which
was dawning slowly and ill. There are fine days in
November, yet we cannot depend upon it, and now
the month was in one of its bad humors. An over
cast sun was struggling through brown, ominous
clouds, and its light was pale and cold. A sharp
wind whistled against the houses, yet shuttered and
silent in these early morning hours. The city was
still asleep, and did not know that the candidate had
come home to hear his fate.
"Is this ugly sky an omen of ill?" asked Churchill,
who, despite his supercilious nature and the fact
that he represented an opposition newspaper, had
come at last under the spell of Jimmy Grayson and
was in a way one of the band.
"If it is a gray sky for Mr. Grayson, it is a gray
sky for the other man, too, and I draw no inference
from the circumstance," replied Harley.
Nevertheless there was an oppression over the
whole group perhaps it was because they were so
near the end; and scarcely another word was said as
they walked along the silent street, each thinking of
the day at hand and the night to follow.
The candidate had offered all the hospitality of
his house, but none would accept, not wishing to in
trude upon the first freshness of his family reunion;
they intended to register at the hotels and come to
his home later on for the news of the day. So they
stopped at a street corner, bade him a short fare
well, and allowed him to go on alone.
But Harley could not resist the temptation of
looking back. They had arrived in the town two
hours ahead of time, and he knew that the candi-
400
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date's family were not yet expecting him, but he
could see the house behind its shield of trees, now
swept of foliage, and already there were signs of
life about it. He saw the candidate's wife run down
the steps and meet her husband, and then he looked
away.
"This is one part of a Presidential campaign that
we must not w,atch," he said to the group about him,
and without a word they walked to their hotel, not
glancing back again, although more than one in the
group was secretly envious of Harley, because of the
welcome that they knew awaited him a little later.
It was a good hotel that received them, and it
was an abounding breakfast that awaited them there.
Harley sat near a window of the dining-room, where
he could look out upon the street and see the city
coming to life, a process that began but slowly, be
cause it is always a holiday when the people cast their
votes for a President. Yet the city awoke at last,
men began to appear in the streets, a polling-booth
opposite the hotel was opened, and the Presidential
election had begun.
The dining-room was now filling up, and all around
Harley and his friends rose the hum of interested
talk. People were beginning to speculate on the
result, and to point out the strangers whom Jimmy
Gray son had brought among them.
Harley presently went into the lobby and found it
crowded. All there were touched by a keen, eager
interest, and were balancing the chances. The cor
respondent, alert, watchful, saw that the bulk of
opinion was against Jimmy Grayson. He saw, too,
that while there was much local pride in the can
didate, it was tinctured by envy, and here and there
by malice. He realized to the full the truth of the
6 401
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old adage that a prophet is never without honor
save in his own country.
In that crowded lobby were men who had been
conspicuous in local public life when Jimmy Gray-
son was a mere boy, and they could not understand
how he had passed them; it was a chance, they said
and believed mere luck, not merit. Others, in a tone
of patronage, told stories of the days when he was a
threadbare and penniless young attorney, and they
named at least five other men of his age who had
been more promising. Then they depreciated his
gifts, and in the same breath disclaimed all intention
of doing so, believing, too, that the disclaimer was
genuine. Yet Harley had no great blame for these
men ; he understood how bitter it was for them to see
the hero march by while they stood still, and it was
not the first instance of the kind that he had no
ticed.
But the crowd, on the whole, was loyal, and sin
cerely wished Jimmy Grayson success. Yet they
could not keep down gloomy forebodings. There had
been a defection of a minority within the party, led
by Mr. Goodnight, Mr. Crayon, and their associates,
who had gone bodily into the enemy's camp, a proced
ure which had made much noise in the American
world, and none could tell how much it would cost.
The story of the Philipsburg conference and Jimmy
Grayson's great speech at Waterville was known to
everybody, and now, while the old politicians ap
plauded his courage and honesty, they began to fear
its effects. Harley felt the same thrill of apprehen
sion, the momentary timidity, that even the bravest
experience when about to go into battle.
Those in the lobby soon knew Harley and his
friends, and the nature of their business, and many
402
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questions which they could not answer were asked
them. "You have been with Jimmy Grayson all
along; will he win?" and whether it was Harley or
another he was forced to reply that he did not know.
Harley now looked at his watch, something he had
been eager to do for a time that seemed interminable
to him; it was yet early, so the watch told him, but
he looked out next at the heavens and the day was
unfolding. "I will go now; I refuse to wait any
longer," he said to himself, and he slipped away from
the crowd.
He went rapidly down the street, and the Presi
dential campaign was not in his mind at all ; the only
thought there was Sylvia! Sylvia! He stood present
ly before the Grayson door and rang the bell. He
remembered how he had rung that same bell five
months ago, never dreaming that his fate would an
swer his ring. And now that same happy fate was
answering it again, because, when the door swung
back, there was Sylvia, her hand upon the bolt and
the smile of young love that has found its own upon
her face.
"I knew it was you I knew your ring," she said,
unconscious of the fact that one ring is like another.
"And you came to meet me," said Harley. "It
is fitting; you opened it first to me and you let my
happiness in."
" And you brought mine with you when you came."
They were young and much in love.
Harley stepped inside, and she closed the door.
"I think I shall kiss you," he said.
"Uncle James and Aunt Anna are in the next
room."
"I don't want to kiss either Uncle James or Aunt
Anna."
403
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"They might come."
" I defy them yes, I bid defiance even to a Presi
dential nominee."
He put his arm around her waist and kissed her.
"You know that he hasn't had time to come."
"Then I give him another chance. I defy that
terrible man again. Yes, I defy him twice, thrice, and
more times."
She struggled a little, and her cheeks flamed, but
she thought how fine, tall, and masterful he was, and
how long it was since she had seen him it had not
really been long.
"Sylvia," he said, "this is the next best day."
"The next best day?" wonderingly.
"The next best day to the one on which we shall
be married. I think I shall defy your terrible uncle
again."
And she blushed redder than ever. As a matter
of fact the "terrible uncle," hearing a step in the
hall, came to the door of his room and saw this de
fiance issued to him not only once, but twice. Where
upon he promptly went back into his own room,
shut the door, and said to his wife, "Anna, you must
not go into the hall for at least ten minutes." He
remembered some meetings of his own, and Mrs.
Grayson, although she had not looked into the hall,
understood perfectly.
Presently Sylvia, keeping herself well into the
background, showed Harley into the parlor, and he
paid his respects to Mrs. Grayson, who was sincerely
glad to see him again. She looked upon him now
as one of the family. "King" Plummer came be
fore long, and by-and-by he and Harley went into
the town to seek political news. "But I'll be back
soon," he said to Sylvia.
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"And I'll be at the door when you come," she said
to him.
They did not spend more than an hour in the town,
and when they returned the other correspondents
were with them. The day had not improved, the
lowering clouds still stalked across the horizon, and
the wind came cold and sharp out of the northwest.
"I've had a telegram from New York saying that
a great vote is being polled," said Hobart, "and
I've no doubt it's the case throughout the East.
Yet Jimmy Grayson is bound to sit at home help
less while all this great battle is going on."
"He has done his work already," said Harley;
"and now it is the rank and file who count."
There was no sign of gloom at the Grayson home.
The candidate, refreshed, and with his half-dozen
young children around him, was unfeignedly happy,
while Mrs. Grayson, hovering near her husband,
who had been practically lost to her for, lo! these
many months, showed the same joy and relief. She
received the group with genuine warmth her hus
band's friends were hers and bade them make the
house their home until the fight was over. Sylvia
greeted them as old comrades, which, in fact, they
were. A room with tables for writing was already
set apart for their use.
The children were in holiday attire and thrilled
by excitement ; they could not be suppressed. They
were well aware what it was to be President of the
United States, and they failed to understand how
any one could vote against their father. "If he is
beaten," thought Harley, "it is not Mr. Grayson
nor Mrs. Grayson who will feel the most disappoint
ment, but these little children."
Neither the candidate nor his wife alluded to the
405
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Presidential race, seeming to enjoy this short respite
after the long strain and before the crucial trial yet
to come. They talked of the small affairs of the
home, and she gave the news of their neighbors, as
if they would make the most of this brief hour; yet
it was not wholly natural, there was in it a note of
suspense, and Harley knew that, despite the joy of re
union, the shadow of the coming night was already
over them. Jimmy Grayson must feel that while
he idled about his own home the ballots were fall
ing in the boxes off to the East and to the West by
the hundred thousand, and his own fate was being
decided.
Harley and Sylvia, after the greetings and the
casual talk, slipped away from the others. There
was a little glass-covered piazza at the back of the
house, and there they sat.
"Now you must tell me all that you have been
doing since I left you."
"Nothing worth the telling. How could any
thing interesting happen after you had gone? But
I've been doing some fine thinking."
"Of what?"
"Of you! always you! I've had to tear up the
first page of many of my despatches."
"Why?"
"Because I would address them to Sylvia instead
of to the Gazette."
" John, I didn't know that you had imagina
tion."
"It isn't imagination; I don't need imagination
when I'm near you or thinking of you, which is all
the time."
"And you are going to marry a Western girl, after
.all?" irrelevantly.
496
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'I wouldn't marry any other kind, and there is
only one of them that I would marry."
They did not speak again for a half-minute, but
what they said was relevant.
But the best of times must come to an end, even
if it is merely to give way to another good time, and
Harley could not remain long at the candidate's
house, but strolled with Blaisdell and two or three
others through the city. He, too, had a sense of
helplessness in regard to the campaign. Like Jimmy
Grayson, he was now condemned to a period of in
action, and, strive as he might, he could not aid his
friend a particle. They went to the local head
quarters of the party two parlors of the largest
hotel in the city.
The rooms, which had been thrown together, were
packed with men and thick with tobacco - smoke,
making the air heavy and hot. News there was none,
but clouds of rumor and gossip. The telegraph said
bad weather, cold and raw, with gusts of rain, pre
vailed all over the United States, but that an enor
mous vote was being polled, nevertheless. In all
the booths in all the great cities long lines of people
were waiting, and reports of the same character were
coming from the country districts. But with the
secret ballot there was nothing whatever to indicate
which way this vote was being cast, nor would there
be until the polls were closed and the official count
was begun. It was said that in many of the pre
cincts of New York, Boston, and Philadelphia more
than half the vote was cast already, so eager were
both sides for victory. These bulletins, more or less
vague as they came from time to time, were posted
on a blackboard, and their vagueness did not keep
them from arousing the keenest interest.
407
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Dexter, the chairman of the state committee, a
thin-faced man who talked little, shook his head
ominously.
"I don't like the enormous vote they are polling
so early in the big cities," he said. "It shows that
the band of traitors led by Goodnight, Crayon, and
their kind are getting in their work."
"But we don't know it to be a fact," said Harley,
resolved that the cloud should have its silver lining.
"For every man in that crowd eager to cast a vote
against Jimmy Gray son, there may be one eager to
cast a vote for him."
Dexter shook his head again, and with increased
gloom. Harley's argument might appeal to his
hopes, but not to his judgment.
"I'm sorry that Jimmy Grayson made his attack
upon that committee," he said. "It spoke well
for his courage and honesty, but it was bad pol
itics."
"I think that courage and honesty are good poli
tics," said Harley, and he left Dexter to his pessimis
tic thoughts.
The rooms were growing too close, and there was
an absence of definite news, so he went again into the
open air. The character of the day was unchanged;
it was still dark with ominous clouds trooping across
the sky, and the wind had grown more bitter.
Harley now found himself under the strain of an
extreme anxiety. He did not realize until this day
how deeply his own feelings were interwoven with
the fate of the campaign, and how bleak the night
would look to him and Sylvia if Mr. Grayson were
beaten and he knew that the odds were against
him; despite himself, he, a man of calm mind and
strong will, was a prey to nerves. He began to
408
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shrink at the thought of the count of the votes, and
to fear the first real bulletins.
He walked about the streets awhile to steady him
self, and then looked at his watch. It was past noon
there, but later in the East and earlier in the West;
yet the bulk of the ballots were cast already. In
three or four hours more the tabulated vote in the
states farthest east would begin to arrive, and they
would listen to the opening chapter of the story, a
story which he feared to hear.
Absorbed in his thoughts, he had strolled uncon
sciously towards the country. There, at a turn of
the road, he met two people in a light wagon, and
they were the candidate and his wife Mrs. Grayson
driving. Harley looked up in surprise at their calm,
cheerful faces. How could they assume such an air
with the combat at its height?
"I'm sorry you and Sylvia were not with us,"
said Mr. Grayson; "Mrs. Grayson has been taking
me to see the changes in the country since I went
campaigning. There are a half-dozen new residences
in the suburb out yonder, and they've built a new
foot-bridge, too, over the river. Oh, our city is
looking up!"
They drove on cheerfully, and Harley went back
to town. All the arrangements for the night were
made; the two great telegraph companies would
handle their despatches in equal proportion, and
would send bulletins of the count, as fast as they
came, to the candidate. Headquarters would do
the same, and there would be no lack of news.
Harley rejoined his comrades at the hotel, but
stayed with them only a little while, because he, of
course, was to dine with Sylvia and the Graysons.
AH the others had been invited, but they did not
409
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wish to overwhelm the candidate on this day of all
days, and none except "King" Plummet would go.
"Lucky fellow," said Hobart, as Harley walked
away.
"But not luckier than he deserves," said Blaisdell.
After dinner Hobart looked at his watch, then
shut it, and with a quick motion thrust it into his
pocket.
"The polls have closed in three-fourths of the
states," he said, "and probably somebody is elected.
I wonder who it is?"
Nobody replied, but on their way to Jimmy Gray-
son's house they passed through the party head
quarters. The rooms were so crowded that they
could scarcely move, but they managed to approach
the blackboard, and they saw written upon it:
"Goodnight, Crayon, and others claim decisive de
feat of Grayson. Assert that he will not get one-
third the vote of the electoral college."
"What nonsense!" exclaimed Hobart, who felt a
thrill of anger. "Why, they have not begun the
count of the vote anywhere!"
They left the rooms and went into the street. The
November twilight was coming earlier than ever
under the shadow of the thickening clouds, and al
ready lights were beginning to shine from many win
dows. Uniformed messenger-boys were passing.
"The wires will soon be talking," said Churchill.
The candidate's house was not inferior to any in
the number of its lights. In the cold, dark twilight it
reared a cheerful front, and the candidate himself,
when he received them, was steady and calm.
"Some of our friends are here already," he said,
and he had them shown into the large room, where
the tables for their use had been placed.
410
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It was brilliantly illuminated, and a dozen men
were sitting about speculating on the events of the
day and hoping for a happy result. Among them
was old Senator Curtis, who had come all the way
from Wyoming, and he was loudly declaring that
if Mr. Grayson were not elected he would never take
any interest in another Presidential election. The
others made no comment on his declaration.
Harley came in late. At dinner with the Gray-
sons he had been thinking, when he looked at Sylvia's
lovely face across the table, that it would always be
just across the table from him now, and the thought
was such a happy one that it clung to him.
The correspondents disposed themselves about the
room, and placed pencil and paper on the tables;
yet there would be nothing for them to write for a
long time. They were only to tell the story of how
the candidate took it, after the story itself was
told. Their business was with either a paean or a
dirge.
Harley looked around at the group, all of whom he
knew.
"Have you fellows thought that this is our last
meeting?" he asked.
There was a sudden silence in the room. All
seemed to feel the solemnity of the moment. Out
in the street some happy men, who had helped to
empty the bowl, were singing a campaign song, and
its sound came faintly to the group.
"A wager to you boys that none of you can name
the state from which the first completed return will
come. What odds will you give ?" said " King" Plum-
mer, who was resolutely seeking to be cheerful.
"We won't take your wager because we'd win,
sure," said Hobart. "It will be a precinct in New
411
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York City, up-town. They get through quick there ;
they never fail to be first."
"Whatever the vote there is, I am going to look
upon it as an omen," said Mr. Heathcote. "If our
majority is reduced it will mean a bad start, good
ending; if our majority is increased, it will mean that
a good beginning is half the battle."
Dexter, the chairman of the state campaign com
mittee, entered, his thin face still shadowed by
gloomy thoughts.
"We've had a few bulletins at headquarters, but
nothing definite," he said. "All the reports so far
are from the East, of course, owing to the difference
in time, but I'd like mighty well to know what they
are doing out there on the Slope and in the Rockies."
"We'll know in good time, Charlie; just you wait,"
said Jimmy Grayson, who was the calmest man in the
room.
"I've done enough waiting already to last me the
rest of my life," said Dexter, moodily.
The door was opened softly, and four or five pairs
of young eyes peeped shyly into the room. The can
didate, with assurances that there was nothing to be
told, gently pushed the youthful figures away and
closed the door again.
"I would put them to bed," he said, apologetical
ly, "but they can't sleep, and it is not any use for
them to try ; so they are supposed to be shepherded
in another part of the house by a nurse, but they
seem to break the bounds now and then."
"I claim the privilege of carrying them the good
news when we get it, if they are still awake," said
Harley.
A messenger-boy entered with a despatch, but it
contained no information, merely an assurance from
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a devoted New England adherent that he believed
Jimmy Grayson was elected, as he felt it in his bones.
"Why does a man waste time and money in tele
graphing us a thing like that?" said Dexter. "It
isn't worth anything."
But Harley was not so sure. He believed with
Jimmy Grayson that good wishes had more than a
sentimental value. He went to the window and gazed
into the street. The number of people singing cam
paign songs as they waited for the news was increas
ing, and the echoes of much laughter and talk floated
towards the house. Farther down the street they
were throwing flash-lights on white canvas in front of
a great crowd, but so far the bulletins were only
humorous quotations or patent-medicine advertise
ments, each to be saluted at the beginning with a
cheer and at the end with a groan. He turned
back to the table just as another boy bearing a de
spatch entered the room.
Mr. Dexter had constituted himself the clerk of
the evening that is, he was to sit at the centre-table
and read the despatches as they came. He took the
yellow envelope from the boy, tore it open, and paused
a moment. Then all knew by the change upon his
face that the first news had come. Dexter turned to
Hobart.
"You were right," he said, "it is from New York
City, up-town. The Thirty-first Assembly District
in the City of New York gives a majority of 824 for
Grayson. This is official."
At another table sat a man with a book containing
the complete vote of all the election districts in every
state of the Union at the preceding Presidential elec
tion. All looked inquiringly at him, and he instantly
made the comparison.
THE CANDIDATE
"We carried the Thirty -first Assembly District of
the City of New York by 1077 four years ago," he
said. "Our majority suffers a net loss of 253."
"Did I not tell you?" exclaimed Heathcote. "A
bad start makes a good ending."
"It's a happy sign," said Sylvia, with her usual
resolute hopefulness.
But, despite themselves, a gloom settled upon all;
the first report from the battle was ominous such a
loss continued would throw the election heavily in
favor of the other man and after her remark they
were silent.
Mrs. Grayson looked into the room, but they told
her there was nothing, and, whether she believed
them or not, she closed the door again without further
question.
"Here comes another boy," said Hobart, who was
at the window, watching the crowd before the trans
parency.
"Now this is good news, sure," said "King" Plum-
mer.
It was from another assembly district in New
York City, and the party majority was cut down
again, but this time the reduction was only 62 votes.
"That's better," said Mr. Heathcote.
"It will have to be a great deal better to elect our
man," whispered Hobart to Harley.
Harley went to the window again, and looked
down the street towards the transparency, where the
opposition voters were cheering wildly at the first
news so favorable to their side. Despite himself,
Harley felt an unreasoning anger towards them.
"You cheer about nothing," he said to himself. "This
is only a few thousand votes among millions." Then
he was ashamed of his feeling, and left the window.
414
THE CANDIDATE
"The Hub speaks!" exclaimed Mr. Dexter, as he
tore open another envelope. Then he announced a
vote from one of the wards of Boston.
"And it speaks right," said the man with the book.
"Mr. Grayson cuts down the majority polled against
us there four years ago by 433 votes."
A little cheer was raised in the room, and down
the street at the transparency there was a cheer, too,
but the voices were not the same as those that cheered
a few moments ago.
" Good old Boston," said Hobart, " and we made that
gain right where the enemy thought he was strongest!"
The first gain of the evening had a hopeful effect
upon all, and they spoke cheerfully.
But a vote from Providence, a minute later went
the other way, and it was followed by one of a similar
nature from New Haven. The gloom returned.
Their minds fluctuated with the bulletins.
"It was too good to last," whispered Hobart,
downcast.
The children again appeared at the door and
wanted to know if their father was elected. Sylvia
took upon herself the task of assuring them that he
was not yet elected, but he certainly would be before
many hours. Then they went away sanguine and
satisfied, and trying to keep sleepy eyelids from
closing. In the street the noise was increasing as
the crowd received facts, and the cheers were loud
and various. But those of the enemy predominated,
and Harley thrilled more than once with silent anger.
A half-dozen men passed the house singing a song in
derision of Jimmy Grayson ; some of the words came
to them through the window, and Sylvia flushed, but
Mr. Grayson himself showed no sign that he under
stood.
THE CANDIDATE
The telegrams now were arriving fast; there were
two streams of boys, one coming in at the door and
the other going out, and Mr. Dexter, at the table,
settled to his work. For a while the chief sounds in
the room were the tearing of paper, the rustling of
unfolded despatches, and the dry voice of the chair
man announcing results. These votes were all from
Eastern cities, where the polls closed early and the
ballots could be counted quickly. Over the West
and the Far West darkness still brooded, and the
country districts everywhere were silent.
Yet Harley knew that throughout the United
States the utmost activity prevailed. To him the
night was wonderful ; in a day of perfect peace nearly
twenty million votes had been cast, and the most
powerful ruler in the world had been made by the
free choice of the nation, just as four years or eight
years hence another ruler would be made in his
place by the same free choice, the old giving way to
the new. Now to-night they were trying to find out
who this ruler was, and no one yet could tell.
But the tale would be told in a few hours. Harley
knew that over an area of three million square miles,
as large as the ancient civilized world, men were at
work counting, down to the last remote mountain
hamlet, and putting the result on the wires as they
counted it. And ninety million people waited, ready
to abide by the result, whether it was their man or
the other. To him there was something extraor
dinary in this organized, this peaceful but tremen
dous activity. To-night all the efforts of the world's
most energetic nation were bent upon a single point.
In each state the wires talked from every town and
village to a common centre, and each state in turn,
through its metropolis, talked to the common centre
416
THE CANDIDATE
of them all, and the general result of all they said
would be known to everybody before morning. It
seemed marvellous to him, although he understood it
perfectly, that a few hours after the boxes were
opened the votes should be counted and accredited
to the proper man.
He resumed his seat at a table, although there
was yet but little for him to write, and listened to the
dry, monotonous voice of Dexter as he called the
vote. The results were still of a variable nature,
gains here and losses there, but on the whole the
losses were the larger, and the atmosphere of the
room grew more discouraging. The great state of
New York, upon which they had relied, was showing
every sign that it would not justify their faith. The
returns from the city of New York, from Buffalo,
Rochester, Syracuse, were all bad, and the most reso
lute hopes could not make them otherwise.
" ' As goes New York, so goes the Union,' ' ' whispered
Hobart, quoting an old proverb.
"Maybe that rule will be broken at last," replied
Harley, hopefully.
But even Sylvia looked gloomy. There was one
thought, as these returns came, in the rounds of them
all. It was that the members of the Philipsburg
Committee had made good their threat; their de
fection had drawn from Graysor. thousands of votes
in a pivotal state, and if he had ever had a chance
of election this took it from him. Yet no one uttered
a word of reproach for pnmy Grayson, although
Harley knew that those who called themselves prac
tical politicians were silently upbraiding him. He
feared that they might consider their early warn
ings justified, and he resented it.
A discordant no4'e, too, was sounded by the South;
THE CANDIDATE
Alabama, a state that they considered sure, although
by a small majority, would go for the other man if
the returns continued of the same tone. The only
ray of light came from New England, whence it had
not been expected. The large cities there were show
ing slight increases for Jimmy Grayson.
"Who would have thought it?" said Mr. Heath-
cote.
But it seemed too small to have any effect, and
they turned their minds to other parts of the coun
try that seemed to be more promising ground. The
voice of Mr. Dexter, growing hoarse from incessant
use and wholly without expression, read a bulletin
from New York:
"Great crowd in front of the residence of the Hon-
\prable Mr. Goodnight, on upper Fifth Avenue, and
he is speaking to them from the steps. Says the
election of their man is assured. Derides Mr. Gray-
son; says no man can betray predominant interests
and succeed. Crowd hooting the name of Grayson."
"The traitor!" exclaimed Hobart.
But Jimmy Grayson said nothing. Harley watch
ed him closely, and he knew now that the candidate's
expressionless face was but a mask it was only hu
man that he should feel deep emotion. Harley saw
his lips quiver faintly now and then, and once or
twice his eyes flashed. Down the street, in front of
the transparency, thtre was a tremendous noise, the
people had divided according to their predilections
and were singing rival campaign songs, but there
was no disorder.
Waiters came in bearing refreshments, and dur
ing a lull in the bulletins they ate and drank. Mrs.
Grayson also joined them for a little while. She
said nothing about the news, and Harley inferred
418
THE CANDIDATE
from her silence on the point that she knew it to be
discouraging. But he saw her give her husband a
glance of pride and devotion that said as plain as
print, "Even if you are beaten, you are the man who
should have been elected." She reported that the
younger of the children had dropped off to sleep, but
the others were still eager.
Again some men passing the house raised a cry
in derision of Jimmy Grayson, and Mrs. Grayson's
face flushed. The others did not know what to do;
they could not go out and rebuke the deriders, as
that would only make a bad matter worse, but the
men soon passed on. Mrs. Grayson stayed only a
little while in the room, retiring on the plea of do
mestic duties. Jimmy Grayson, too, went out *
see his children, he said, but Harley thought t^
man and wife wished to talk over the prospect.
The news, after the lull, began to come fastr t " an
ever. The West spoke at last, and its fir- words
came through Denver and Salt Lake, bu* its vo j ce
was non-committal. There was nothing^ 11 l * t
dicate how Colorado and Utah, both do^tful states,
would go. But presently, when Mr Dexter broke
an envelope and opened a bulletin, ie laughed.
"Boys," he said, "here's faith *r you: the pre
cinct of Waterville, in Wyoming casts every one of
her votes .for Grayson."
They cheered. Certainly the people who had
heard Mr. Grayson's decisive speech were loyal to
him, and they should ha^e honor despite their few
ness. But immediately behind it came a bulletin
that gave them the heaviest blow they had yet re
ceived.
"Complete returns from more than three-fourths
of the precincts in the state," read Mr. Dexter,
419
THE CANDIDATE
"show beyond doubt that New Jersey has gone at
least 20,000 against Grayson."
"I never did think much of New Jersey, any
how," said Hobart, sourly.
They laughed, but there was no mirth in the laugh.
Tears rose in Sylvia's eyes. Ten minutes later,
Alabama had wheeled into line with New Jersey it
was certainly against Grayson and the news from
New York was growing worse. Harley, in his heart,
knew that there was no hope of the state, although
he tried to draw encouragement from scattered votes
here and there. From the Middle West the news
as mixed, but its general tenor was not favorable,
t New England was still behaving well.
\Our vote in Massachusetts surprises me," said
. ^Heathcote; "we shall more than cut their ma
jority hgjf ^ e s h a \\ carrv Boston and Worcester,
and wv are even making gains in the country dis
tricts.'^
"Aim n<i
* 3S \ complete returns from Michigan and
Wisconsin ^p w ^^ ^ e f ormer h as gone for Gray-
son by a sub^ ntial ma jority, and the latter against
him by a majoiy about the same) " read Mr. Dexter.
"Which show\that Michigan is much the finer
state of the two,'V d Hobart.
"One state at lea\t is secure," said Harley.
They heard a trem\dous cheer down the street in
front of the transparency, an d Harley went to the
window. His heart fell ^en he saw that the cheer,
was continued, ca^ e from the opposition
crowd. It was announced iefinitely on the cloth
that New York had gone against Grayson; the re
turns permitted no doubt of it, wid there was reason
why the enemy should rejoice. Presently their own
bulletins confirmed the bad news, and announced
420
THE CANDIDATE
that off in another city the bands were serenading
the other man.
Blow followed blow. Connecticut, despite gains
made there, went against Grayson by a majority,
small it is true, but decisive, and Illinois and In
diana speedily followed her bad lead. To Harley
all seemed over, and he could not take it with resig
nation. Jimmy Grayson was the better man on the
better platform, and he should have been elected.
It was a crime to reject him. An angry mist came
over his eyes, and he walked into the hall that no
one should see it. But Mr. and Mrs. Grayson stood
at the end of the hall, evidently having just come
from the children's room, and before he could turn
away he heard her say:
"We have lost, but you are still the man of the
nation to me."
As he was returning he met Sylvia, and now the
tears in her eyes were plainly visible.
"John, it can't be true! He isn't beaten, is he?"
" No, it is not true, Sylvia," he said, telling what he
did not believe. "We still have a chance."
They returned at once to the room, and Mr. Gray-
son came in a minute later, his face wearing the
same marble mask. When two or three forced them
selves to speak encouraging words, he smiled and
said there was yet hope. But Harley had none,
and he felt sure that Jimmy Grayson, too, was with
out it.
"Good news from Iowa!" suddenly cried Mr.
Dexter. "A despatch from Des Moines reports
heavy gains for Grayson throughout the south and
west of the state."
Here was a fresh breath of life, and for a moment
they felt glad, but North Dakota, a state for which
421
THE CANDIDATE
they had hoped but scarcely expected, soon reported
against them. The good news could not last.
"Anything more fjom Massachusetts?" asked Mr.
Heathcote.
Mr. Dexter was opening a despatch and he gave a
gasp when he looked at it.
"Massachusetts in doubt!" he exclaimed. "Gray-
son makes heavy gains in the country districts as
well as in the cities. Our National Committee is
claiming Massachusetts!"
There was a burst of cheering in the room. They
had never even hoped for Massachusetts. From
first to last it was conceded to the enemy.
"Oh, if Massachusetts only had as many votes as
New York!" groaned Hobart. "This is so good it
can't be true!"
But Sylvia smiled through her tears.
Soon there was another cheer. Fresh despatches
from Massachusetts confirmed the earlier news and
made it yet better ; then the state was in doubt, now
it inclined to Jimmy Grayson; the gains came in,
steady and large.
"We've got it by at least 20,000," exclaimed Mr.
Dexter, exultantly. "It's a regular upset. Who'd
have thought it?"
It was true. It was known in a quarter of an
hour that Massachusetts had given a majority of
25,000 for Grayson, and behind their big sister came
New Hampshire and Rhode Island, with small but
sure majorities. Jimmy Grayson had carried three
New England states, when all of them had been con
ceded to the enemy, one of the most surprising
changes ever known in a Presidential election.
There were repeated cheers in the room. Even
Jimmy Grayson was compelled to smile in satisfaction.
423
THE CANDIDATE
But Harley did not have hope!. This, in his opinion,
was merely a pleasant incident it could not have
much effect on the result ; Massachusetts had a large
vote, but those of New Hampshire and Rhode Island
were small, and there against them stood the gigantic
state of New York, towering like a mountain. New
York had the biggest vote of all, and he did not see
how it could be overcome.
Harley now and then wrote a paragraph of his
despatch to his newspaper, telling of the scene at the
candidate's house and how he and his friends looked
and talked, but it did not take all his time. By-and-
by he went out on the steps to see the crowd in the
streets and to get the fresh air. The night was cold
and raw, but its touch was soothing. His thoughts
were with Jimmy Grayson. He yet had little hope,
and he was thinking of all those gigantic labors wasted ;
it was a case where a man must win or lose every
thing. At the transparency the rival crowds were
cheering or groaning according to the news that came.
Harley turned back and met Mrs. Grayson.
"Tell me, Mr. Harley," she said, and her eyes
were eager, "just how the election stands so far.
I know that you will tell me the truth ; is there really
as much hope as the others seem to feel?"
Harley looked into her clear, brave eyes, and he
replie*d honestly:
"I think there is some hope, Mrs. Grayson, but
not much. Too many big states have gone against
us, and we cannot offset big states with little ones.
New York, Indiana, Illinois, Wisconsin, Alabama are
all in the hostile line."
"Thank you for the truth," she said. "I can
stand it, and so can Mr. Grayson."
But Harley was not sure. He felt at times that
423
THE CANDIDATE
this ordeal was too great for any man or woman.
When he returned to the room they were announc
ing news from the Pacific coast.
"We have Washington," said Mr. Dexter; "and
Oregon is against us, but California is in doubt."
"But we mean to have California," said Sylvia,
and the others smiled.
Good reports came from the Rocky Mountain
region, all the states there except Utah going for
Grayson. It had been thought once by both sides
that these doubtful states would decide the election,
but with the great upset in the East and Middle
West affairs took on another complexion, and they
must make new calculations.
"Has anything been heard from Pennsylvania?"
asked Mr. Heathcote.
Several laughed, and the laugh was significant.
"Nothing at all," replied Mr. Dexter, and there
was a suggestion of contempt in his tone; "but why
should we want to hear anything? It's sure for the
enemy by at least 100,000, and he may get 200,000.
Pennsylvania is one state from which I don't want
to hear anything at all."
They laughed again, but, as nothing yet came from
Pennsylvania, Harley's curiosity about it began to
rise. "Strange that we do not hear anything," he
said; but Mr. Dexter laughed, and promised to read
in an extra loud tone the first Pennsylvania bulletin
they should get.
It was nearly midnight now and the election was
still undecided ; midnight came and the situation was
yet unchanged, but a full half-hour later Mr. Dexter
cleared his throat and said, in a high voice:
"Listen, Mr. Harley! Here's your first Pennsyl
vania bulletin!"
424
THE CANDIDATE
He was sarcastic both in voice and look.
"Complete reports from Pittsburg, Alleghany, and
their surrounding districts show remarkable change.
This district gives 20,000 majority for Grayson."
Then Mr. Dexter, holding the telegram in his hand,
sat open-mouthed, barely realizing what he had read.
But Harley sprang up with exultant cry. For once
he lost his self-control.
"We are not beaten yet!" he cried.
"We are not beaten yet!" echoed Sylvia.
They waited feverishly for more Pennsylvania
news, and presently it came in a despatch from Phila
delphia. Grayson had carried that great city by a
small majority, and the enemy was frightened about
the state. A third despatch from Harrisburg, the
state capital, confirmed the news; the state of Penn
sylvania, coming next to New York in the size of
its vote, was in doubt. It was the most astonishing
fact of the election, but every return showed that
Grayson had developed marvellous strength there.
The National Committee issued a bulletin claiming
it, but the other side claimed it, too; it would be at
least two hours yet before the claim could be de
cided, and they must suffer in suspense.
Harley and Hobart walked together into the street.
Harley 's forehead was damp.
"This is getting on my nerves," he said.
"If Pennsylvania goes for Grayson, what then?''
asked Hobart.
"It means that Grayson is elected; an hour ago I
could not have dreamed of such a thing."
Down the street the crowd was roaring and cheer
ing, and the roars and cheers were about equally
divided between the two parties.
When they returned to the room the volunteer
425
THE CANDIDATE
secretary was just announcing that Iowa was safely
in the Grayson column. It was conceded to him by
15,000. Further news from Pennsylvania was in
decisive, but it continued good.
Mrs. Grayson was in the room, and Harley looked
at her and her husband. The faces of both had be
come grave, and Harley knew why. The Presidential
chair was not wholly out of sight, after all, and the
chance was sufficient to bring upon them both a sense
of mighty responsibilities. There was a great shout
down the street.
"They have posted a bulletin," said Hobart, who
was at the window. "It says that California has
gone for Grayson by 10,000, and that all indications
point to his carrying Ohio."
"I was right, and we do have California," said
Sylvia.
Again Jimmy Grayson and his wife exchanged that
grave look. It seemed that each was frightened a
little. But Mr. Dexter did not notice it. He was read
ing a telegram from New York saying that con
sternation over the news from Pennsylvania, Mas
sachusetts, and Iowa prevailed in the hostile ranks;
they no longer claimed the election, they merely as
serted that it was in doubt; it was admitted that
while Goodnight, Crayon, and their friends had taken
many votes from Jimmy Grayson, he was making
up the difference, and perhaps more, elsewhere.
"If Jimmy Grayson were to come so near and yet
miss, it would be more than mortal flesh could bear,"
whispered Hobart.
"It would have to be borne," replied Harley.
It was far past one o'clock in the morning. The
room was hot and close. The floor was littered with
envelopes and telegrams. The two lines of tele-
426
THE CANDIDATE
graph-boys had trodden two trails in the carpet, and
Harley began to feel the long strain. All the men
had red eyes and black streaks under them. Yet
they were as keen as ever to hear the last detail. It
seemed to every one that the fate of Jimmy Gray-
son was now hanging in the balance ; a feather would
tip it this way or that, and the room sank into an
unusual silence, the silence of painful suspense.
There was a long wait and then came a telegram
rather thicker than the others. Somehow all of
them felt that this told the story, and the fingers
of Mr. Dexter trembled as he tore open the envelope.
He paused, holding it a moment between his fingers,
and then, in a quivering voice, he read:
"Complete returns from the state of Pennsyl
vania give it to Gray son by 18,000, and he is chosen
President of the United States by a majority of 36
in the electoral college. Our enemies concede their
defeat. We send our heartiest congratulations to
Mr. Gray son on his victory, and on the great cam
paign he made. Everybody here recognizes that it
was Gray son who won for Gray son."
It was signed with the name of the chairman of the
National Committee, and with a deep "Ah!" the
reader let it fall upon the table, where it lay. Then
there was a half -minute of intense silence in the
room. That for which they had long fought and
for which they had scarcely hoped had come at the
eleventh hour. Mr. Grayson was the President-elect.
They could not speak; they were awed.
It was Mrs. Grayson who first broke the silence.
She ran to her husband, threw her arms around him,
and exclaimed:
"Oh, Jimmy! It is almost too much for us to
undertake!"
427
THE CANDIDATE
But Jimmy Grayson was not afraid. He stood up
and Harley saw a glow of deep emotion come over
his face.
"As God is my judge," he said, "I shall try with
my utmost strength to fulfil the duties of this high
place."
Sylvia, not knowing what else to do, put her hand
in Harley's; and he held it.
There was a tremendous burst of cheering in front
of the house, and a band began to play. Above the
music swelled a continuous roar for the President
elect, "Grayson!" "Grayson!" "Grayson!" They
were all for him now. There was no need for Harley
to wake up the children; the thunders of applause
already brought them, triumphing in a result of
which they had never felt any doubt.
"You will have to speak to the people, Mr. Gray-
son," said Mr. Dexter. "It is their right. You are
no longer a free man; you belong to the nation now."
The President-elect went out on the veranda and
spoke to them with a certain solemnity and majesty
while they listened in respectful silence. Meanwhile
telegrams of congratulation were pouring into the
house from all parts of the world, and out in the
distant mountains men came down to the camps and
spoke to each other about the President-to-be.
Harley's last despatch was sent, the crowd was
gone, the other correspondents were on their way to
the hotel, and the people were turning out the lights,
but he yet lingered at the Grayson home. It was
Jimmy Grayson who asked him to wait a moment,
and they stood alone on the dark veranda.
"Harley," said Jimmy Grayson, and there was
much feeling in his voice, "you have been the best
428
THE CANDIDATE
friend I ever had, and I am so selfish that I do not
want to lose you. Stay with me; be my secretary.
In these later days the office of the President's sec
retary has grown to be a big one. I think that you
are the best man in the world for it, and if I am re-
elected you shall go into the Cabinet. You will be
old enough then. Remember, Harley, that it is I
who ask a favor now, and it is for you to grant it."
The hands of the two strong men met in a strong
grasp.
"I accept the offer," said Harley.
The President-elect turned away, faded into the
darkness of his own house, and another figure took his
place. A small, warm hand slipped into Harley 's,
and he held it fast.
"What was he saying to you?" asked Sylvia.
"He was asking me to be his secretary."
"And your reply?"
"I hesitated and asked for a bribe."
"Oh, John!"
"I said that if, one month from to-day and with
the assistance of a minister, he would give you to
me forever, I would take the place."
"What did he say then?"
"He said the price was high, but I could have it.
And we shall all be together again for four years
more, and perhaps eight."
Her eyes, very close to his, were shining through
a mist of happy tears, and, standing there at the
doorstep, he kissed her in the darkness.
THE END
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