THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 THE ROBE'S ISLAND WRECK 
 
 AND OTHER STORIES
 
 The author acknowledges the courtesy 
 of Messrs. Harper & Brothers in 
 permitting him to reprint stories 
 which appeared in HARPER'S 
 WEEKLY.
 
 THE 
 
 ROBE'S ISLAND WRECK 
 
 AND OTHER STORIES 
 
 BY 
 
 LYNN R. MEEKINS 
 
 CHICAGO AND CAMBRIDGE 
 
 STONE AND KIMBALL 
 
 MDCCCXCIV
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1894 
 
 BY 
 LYNN R. MEEKINS
 
 -F-S 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 THE ROBE'S ISLAND WRECK i 
 
 Two BOOMS 27 
 
 IN THE EARLY CHRISTMAS MORNING . . 60 
 
 THE COLONEL'S CALL 82 
 
 THE NOMINATION 89 
 
 THE OPENING GUN 113 
 
 THE ELECTION 134 
 
 A NEW DEAL 157 
 
 1661492
 
 THE ROBE'S ISLAND WRECK. 
 
 I. 
 
 1 HEY began by having great fun with 
 the captain. Ten minutes before they ar- 
 rived the captain came out and took his 
 usual chair in the usual spot under the 
 shadow of the station. He was not a hand- 
 some man. He was strong, rugged, pictu- 
 resque, but not handsome. Six feet high 
 and two hundred pounds in weight, he was 
 an epic in hardened flesh and muscle. His 
 face was as full of lines as an etched por- 
 trait. His general appearance offered a 
 contrast to every rule of a fashion-plate, and 
 he appeared like some big shaggy animal 
 that was particularly lazy because it was 
 especially strong. 
 
 On this occasion the captain's eyes were 
 half-reefed, and they looked over an expanse 
 of sand on which low houses were built, and 
 saw the smoke of passing steamers that 
 crept along the horizon. It was peaceful, 
 but it was n't much of a view. 
 i
 
 2 THE ROBB S ISLAND WRECK. 
 
 In fact Robb's Island was n't much of a 
 place ; simply a few hundred acres of sand 
 in a wilderness of salt water. But it had its 
 fascinations. For instance, in summer, peo- 
 ple some of them of such good family 
 stock that they didn't have to talk about 
 it left their best clothes and formalities at 
 home and went there. They lived in rough 
 sheds, by courtesy collectively called a hotel, 
 fished in the inlets, tumbled around in the 
 surf, waded through the ever-shifting sand, 
 and gathered flesh and tan and strength and 
 freckles on the worst food that a summer 
 resort could possibly offer. At first Robb's 
 Island was deeply disappointing. You 
 reached the place in a stuffy little boat, 
 after a sail of ten miles from the mainland. 
 The commonness and the glare of every- 
 thing disgusted you. You firmly resolved 
 to return the next morning. But the boat 
 did n't go for two days, and there you were ! 
 In those two days you got into the surf, and 
 pulled up more fish than you ever saw be- 
 fore, caught a shark or two, became the 
 owner of a wonderful appetite, and when 
 the boat was ready to start, you were on the 
 other side of the island. In a week you 
 were a confirmed victim to the repose of the 
 place, and you remained a hopeless islander
 
 THE ROBE'S ISLAND WRECK. 3 
 
 until your conscience or your finances drove 
 you across the ten miles of marsh and water 
 to the world and its cares. 
 
 After the summer visitors went away in 
 September, parties of men with canvas 
 clothes and big guns arrived to kill ducks 
 and geese; and when they departed, the 
 island, with its hundred people, was left 
 alone in the solitude of the waters. There 
 was not much to do then, and the inhabi- 
 tants did it. It was a dull life and a dull 
 place. Everybody was well, and the only 
 way to break the monotony was for the 
 women folks to imagine a few complaints to 
 fit the descriptions in the patent-medicine 
 almanacs. A small community without sick 
 people to gossip about is stupid, but the best 
 that Robb's Island could do was to manu- 
 facture petty aches, and doctor them on 
 home-made remedies. The idea of a resident 
 physician was preposterous. He wouldn't 
 make enough in a year to feed a cat on 
 bread-crumbs and water, much less milk. 
 
 The most interesting place on the island 
 was the life-saving station, a fine house of 
 two stories, with a broad gable roof, a flag- 
 staff, a veranda, and a liberal decoration of 
 red paint, whose contagion had spread over 
 the neighborhood, and given the settlement
 
 4 THE ROBE'S ISLAND WRECK. 
 
 a sanguinary hue. The keeper of the sta- 
 tion and the captain of the life-saving crew, 
 who, according to the authorities, are two 
 gentlemen at once, at four hundred dollars a 
 year for the total, was, and is, Captain 
 Zebedee Graves; and on this afternoon he 
 had eaten his dinner, and was trying to 
 smoke and sleep and keep his eyes open at 
 the same time. He almost succeeded, but 
 he was losing himself in furtive naps when 
 other men began to come out. At first they 
 did n't disturb him. They took seats, quietly 
 stretched their limbs, and gazed across the 
 expanse of sand and sea. The captain 
 dozed ; then the six surf men looked at one 
 another and smiled. 
 
 The smallest man struck a match and 
 lighted his pipe. He puffed twice, threw 
 his hands over his knees, rocked backwards 
 and forwards several times, and began to 
 speak. " Gentlemen," he said, " this life 's 
 getting too slow. I think I '11 go ashore, 
 and let some nice girl with a farm marry 
 me, a girl or a widder ; I guess I '11 take a 
 widder." 
 
 There was a pause. The captain's eyes 
 opened one-thousandth part of an inch. 
 The other men looked into vacancy. The 
 captain said nothing.
 
 THE ROBE'S ISLAND WRECK. 5 
 
 " You 'd better be quick about it, then," 
 advised the long man. " From what I hear, 
 widders is mighty popular now, and some- 
 body might cut you out." 
 
 "Oh, I guess not," said the short man. 
 "Good goods come in little bundles, and 
 widders know quality. Don't they, cap- 
 tain ? " 
 
 The captain's eyes opened another frac- 
 tion, and he took his pipe from his mouth 
 and growled, " What are you up to now ? " 
 
 "Oh, nothing. I just thought of going 
 ashore and getting some things, and calling 
 on a widder." 
 
 " Then why don't you go ? " 
 
 " I 'm afraid somebody 's got ahead of 
 me." 
 
 The men langhed, and the captain scowled, 
 and took an extra puff from his pipe. 
 
 The long man spoke up : " You need n't 
 try to deny it, captain. We Ve got the 
 dead wood on you this time." 
 
 And then followed volleys of questions 
 from all the six men. They wanted to 
 know when the marriage was to take place, 
 when he was going to bring his bride over, 
 and whether or not they would receive 
 invitations to the ceremony. The captain 
 puffed away at his pipe, but behind the
 
 6 THE ROBB'S ISLAND WRECK. 
 
 smoke was an increasing exasperation. The 
 boys welcomed the signs with undisguised 
 glee. The truth of the matter was that the 
 captain aroused was one of their greatest 
 delights. They often said that they would 
 rather hear him swear than the church choir 
 sing ; and they never thought it a sin, because 
 the oaths which, of course, cannot get 
 their natural glow in repetition seemed 
 to be an inevitable part of the man. He 
 stood their prodding longer than they ex- 
 pected, but finally he blurted out something 
 which, considerably expurgated, amounted 
 to this : 
 
 " What if I did go to see the widder ? Is 
 it any of your business ? If people would 
 attend to their own affairs this here world 
 would be a heap better off. I 'd get married 
 if I wanted to ; but, thunderation ! who 
 wants to get married ? I would n't marry 
 a angel if she was to come down and ask 
 me, 'specially if I had to introduce her to 
 some good-for-nothing loafers that I know 
 of." 
 
 " We 're not talking about angels, captain, 
 but widders, which is altogether different." 
 
 " You jaw about marriage as if it was a 
 joke," continued the captain, ignoring the 
 interruption. " It ain't a joke, it 's serious ;
 
 THE ROBE'S ISLAND WRECK. ^ 
 
 and it ruins more men than whiskey. Men 
 don't know their own minds till they are 
 forty, and then they mostly stay single ; but 
 if one does marry, he generally picks out 
 the right sort of wife. What 's the matter 
 with the world now ? What caused all this 
 hard work and this starvation pay ? What 
 but an early marriage ? If Adam had had 
 the sense to wait for another woman, he 'd 
 'a' done something in the world a little better 
 than stealing apples." 
 
 " But, captain," put in the long man, who 
 had married when he was eighteen, " there 
 are " 
 
 " Of course there is. I don't say nothing 
 about present company. There 's a few 
 married men who's all right, and there's a 
 big lot who ain't worth a cupful of salt 
 water. And yonder 's one of 'em." 
 
 The men turned, and about four hundred 
 yards away saw a heavily built young fel- 
 low with hatchet and nails mending the 
 fence that enclosed a small and neatly kept 
 two-story house. The countenance of every 
 one in the party fell every one except the 
 captain. He ground his teeth and sneered. 
 
 " That 's a nice married man for you ; a 
 nice land-lubberly piece of dough and fresh 
 water he is ! "
 
 8 THE ROBE'S ISLAND WRECK. 
 
 " Now, captain, you Ve no right to talk 
 against Henry that way. You know that he 
 resigned because he had the heart-disease. 
 You know " 
 
 " Tom Thorpe, I know more about Henry 
 Dane in a minute than you do in a year, 
 and I say he 's a lazy loafer. Who brought 
 
 that boy up ? I did, d him ! Who 
 
 taught him to be the strongest helmsman 
 and the best all-round life-saver on the 
 island ? Who got him a place in this crew ? 
 I did, and you all know it. When he wanted 
 to get married, I said no ; not that I had 
 nothing agin the woman, but she was a 
 woman, and if Tom was to take my place, 
 he had no right to get married. But mar- 
 ried he got ; and what come of it ? Why, 
 pretty soon he had the heart-disease. Bah ! " 
 
 " Be fair, captain. There ain't a braver 
 man on the island than Henry," said the 
 tall surfman. " We all saw him keel over 
 out there in the surf no less than four 
 times." 
 
 " What if he did ? " growled the captain. 
 " Hain't I been knocked out a dozen times ? 
 That don't show nothing. He passed the 
 examination, did n't he ? " 
 
 " But it was n't very strict in his case," 
 answered the long man.
 
 THE ROBE'S ISLAND WRECK. 9 
 
 " It was strict enough. There ain't no 
 sickness on this island you know that 
 and Henry was the soundest boy here till 
 he got married, and then his wife and that 
 doctor who was down here last summer 
 made him believe that something ailed his 
 heart, and told him he had to get out of the 
 
 service or die. And he got out, d him ! 
 
 he got out. And I hain't spoke to him since, 
 and I would n't if he was on his dying bed. 
 Every hope I had was wrapped up in that 
 boy. He'd 'a' been keeper of this station; 
 and look at him now, a big calf yoked to 
 two apron strings ! Heart failure, is it ? I 
 tell you it 's nerve failure that 's what it 
 is." 
 
 Never were six men more miserable. 
 They tried to defend their comrade, but it 
 was useless. Each word increased the cap- 
 tain's anger. Presently there was silence. 
 He puffed at his pipe ; they tried to look at 
 ease. 
 
 " Now I guess you want to know why I 
 went to see the Widder Marling," resumed 
 the captain, with something like contempt 
 in his voice. " She 's a cousin of Joe Black, 
 who happens to be at the head of things 
 over in the county just now, and the doctor 
 says she must come to Robb's Island for
 
 10 THE ROBB'S ISLAND WRECK. 
 
 her health, and she wants something to do 
 while she is here. So she 's going to teach 
 the school." 
 
 The miserable men were no longer quiet. 
 They started as if a bomb-shell had dropped 
 in their midst. 
 
 "You don't mean to say, captain, that 
 she 's going to take the place of Henry's 
 wife?" stammered Tom. 
 
 " That 's exactly what I mean." 
 
 Every man had something to say in in- 
 dignant protest. 
 
 " It 's no use to kick," answered the cap- 
 tain to them all. " The thing 's settled. We 
 done enough for Henry in giving him the 
 place here, and he throwed it up. His wife 
 don't belong to the island, and as he married 
 her, let him support her. I 've got no hard 
 feelings agin her, but the bosses over in the 
 county say Mrs. Marling must have the 
 place, and she 's got it, and I Ve been to 
 see her about moving over." 
 
 It was an ill ending to the joke of the 
 jokers. They were too depressed to talk, and 
 gradually they got up and moved away.
 
 THE ROBE'S ISLAND WRECK. 
 
 II. 
 
 SOME people still talk about the Novem- 
 ber storm of that year. It sent more than 
 forty boats ashore, and for hours it kept 
 many of the one hundred and sixty-five life- 
 saving stations along the Atlantic coast in 
 constant readiness and apprehension. Had 
 it not been for the work of the life-savers, 
 more than a hundred souls would have per- 
 ished ; but in the face of cold and death 
 these brave fellows risked everything, and 
 played the roles of heroes with as splendid 
 a courage and as honest a purpose as ever 
 the world saw. The great public, with its 
 twelve-hour memory, read the brief reports 
 in the newspapers the next morning, and 
 then promptly forgot all about it by dinner- 
 time. 
 
 On Robb's Island the day began queerly. 
 A yellowish sunshine disfigured the morn- 
 ing. By nine o'clock thick, deep, dark clouds 
 were rolling along the horizon, and by noon 
 a heavy wind, uncertain in its direction, was 
 beating the waves into whiteness, and piling 
 up the blackness of the heavens. Rain 
 poured down in big drops, and fell faster 
 than the porous sand could receive it. Then
 
 12 THE ROBB'S ISLAND WRECK. 
 
 there was a lull, and by and by came a del- 
 uge from above, driven by the wind into 
 every crevice, and forcing everything ani- 
 mate to a refuge. In the life-saving station 
 the men looked out of the windows and 
 smoked and smoked and looked out of 
 the windows. The first regular watch was 
 at sunset, but the sun was behind an ocean 
 of ink, and by the time it got below the 
 horizon, twilight changed to night, and the 
 rain turned into a bombardment of hail, 
 that rattled on the roof like a fusillade of 
 infantry bullets. 
 
 Just about that time the small man came 
 into the room in oil-skins and rubbers. 
 
 " Rough night, Tom," said the captain. 
 
 " Yes, captain. I don't think it '11 be very 
 dusty on the sands to-night. Perhaps some 
 of you fellows would like to take the walk ? " 
 
 " Glad you think so," said the long man. 
 
 " Well, never mind. I 'm rather thinking 
 you '11 all get baptized before morning. The 
 shoals look ugly, and if any boat gets in too 
 close, may the good Lord help her ! Good 
 night, gentlemen." 
 
 " Good-night, Tom." 
 
 The patrol on Robb's Island was different 
 from that of the ordinary coast station. The 
 stretch of beach being less than two miles,
 
 THE ROBE'S ISLAND WRECK. 13 
 
 only one patrolman was needed during a 
 watch. Tom was the first man out. He 
 carried his lantern and the Coston signals. 
 The hail having turned to snow, the light 
 of the lantern reached but a short distance, 
 and beyond that was utter darkness. In 
 ordinary weather the walk was not bad, but 
 that night it was a sorry journey. The vio- 
 lence of the wind increased enormously. 
 It was as if the storm god was using the 
 air as a herculean lash to whip nature into 
 chaos, and was wielding it right and left, 
 backward and forward, with gigantic reck- 
 lessness. More than once the poor fellow 
 fell, but he was soon up again, fighting his 
 way along the sands. You, my dear sir, with 
 your comfortable bank account, wouldn't 
 have stayed out there for forty dollars an 
 hour. This surfman thanks to the mu- 
 nificence of the richest government on the 
 earth was doing it for forty dollars a 
 month. 
 
 In four hours he was back at the station, 
 and another unfortunate was sent forth to 
 make the round. After four hours he came 
 back, half-drowned and exhausted. Then 
 another set out in the face of the storm, and 
 a weary time he had of it ; but he stumbled 
 along against the tempest, going down fre-
 
 14 THE ROBE'S ISLAND WRECK. 
 
 quently, but soon rising, and all the time 
 gazing seawards, with his Coston signal 
 ready to warn any ill-starred mariner. 
 
 As calculated afterwards, it was sixty-five 
 minutes before the break of day when this 
 patrolman thought he saw the glimmer of 
 a light a half-mile beyond the shoals. He 
 climbed on a bluff of sand and looked 
 again, but the snow fell thick and fast, and 
 he could see nothing. Suddenly he heard 
 a cry. He was sure of it, and then, settling 
 all doubt, came the report of a gun. Before 
 its echo had answered the sound, he ignited 
 the Coston signal. 
 
 For two minutes its brilliant red flame 
 illuminated the storm. And then he struck 
 another, and for two minutes more the warn- 
 ing glare burned forth, and from the dark 
 water came a second report of the gun. 
 
 The patrolman turned at once, and ran as 
 fast as he could towards the station. 
 
 Somehow the captain had not slept that 
 night. His thoughts were on the sea. His 
 eyes were looking out towards the window. 
 He heard the muffled echo of the gun, and 
 thought he saw the glare of the signal. 
 
 He jumped up and shouted, in a voice 
 louder than the roar of the angry surf, " Get 
 out, everybody ! "
 
 THE ROBE'S ISLAND WRECK. 15 
 
 There was a stampede, a rush down the 
 steps, a swinging open of the big doors, and 
 in a twinkling the surf-boat, resting grace- 
 fully on its four-wheeled carriage and drawn 
 by the six men, had rumbled down the in- 
 cline, and was on its way towards the beach. 
 
 The snow was deep and the sand was 
 deeper, and the work was hard, but the six 
 men had muscles of iron and wills of steel, 
 and they pulled the load of nearly a thou- 
 sand pounds as if they were horses trained 
 for the work. No one spoke except the 
 captain, and his vociferous tones rose above 
 the storm and urged the men to their best 
 endeavor. 
 
 The same tones reached the houses on 
 the island, and in a short time the whole 
 population was aroused. No one thought 
 of cold, or of the snow, or of pneumonia ; 
 there was a wreck, and a wreck would call a 
 dying Robb's-I slander from the portals of 
 the grave. So out the people came, with 
 untied shoes and unbuttoned garments, run- 
 ning pell-mell across the sands, and trying 
 to overtake the life-saving crew. 
 
 The crew were several hundred yards 
 ahead, and were making good progress. By 
 that time, too, the patrolman had met his 
 comrades, and was pulling with them at the
 
 r6 THE ROBE'S ISLAND WRECK. 
 
 ropes of the carriage. They needed his as- 
 sistance, for the sand dunes were getting 
 larger, and the work was growing heavier, 
 and the captain was swearing harder. A 
 hundred yards more, and the half-dressed 
 islanders caught up with the crew, and lent 
 their willing aid to the men. 
 
 Day was just breaking when they reached 
 the point opposite the wreck. In the uncer- 
 tain light they saw a schooner stuck fast on 
 the shoals. The heavy seas were pounding 
 her sides and throwing cataracts of water 
 across her decks. No vessel could long 
 endure such violence, and already pieces of 
 wreckage were reaching the shore, showing 
 that she was breaking up. She was too far 
 out for the guns and the breeches buoy. 
 The only hope was the surf-boat, and be- 
 tween her and the crew were the great 
 shoals covered with prodigious breakers, 
 whipped into whiteness by the fury of the 
 wind, and full of uncertain currents and 
 death-sweeping undertows. 
 
 " The boat can't live in that sea," said a 
 voice in the crowd. 
 
 " Live ? " roared the captain. " She 's got 
 to live ! " 
 
 The half-dressed islanders shivered. Some 
 of the women, whose husbands or sons
 
 THE ROBE'S ISLAND WRECK. 17 
 
 were surfmen, sobbed aloud. The captain 
 turned his head a second to look at them, 
 and as he did so his eyes fell on Henry 
 Dane, who, pale but calm, was standing with 
 his wife watching the crew fix the carriage 
 for the launching of the boat. Across the 
 captain's face swept a wave of indignant 
 disgust. Henry saw it and felt it. 
 
 But minutes were hours then, and there 
 was no time for anything but the work of 
 rescue. 
 
 " Ready, captain," said Tom. 
 
 The captain leaped into the stern, and 
 grabbed the long steering-oar. The six 
 surfmen, obedient and watchful, waited for 
 the sign. A great wave rolled in, and on its 
 recession the boat glided into the turbulent 
 surf. Down she dropped and up she came, 
 again she fell and again she rose, but as she 
 rested on the wave's crest, another breaker, 
 driven diagonally by the uncertain wind, 
 slashed her side, hid her in its spray, and 
 turned her prow from its course. With 
 magnificent skill the Hercules in the stern 
 sought to swing her back, but the forces of 
 hell itself were in those breakers, and the 
 vantage lost, human skill was not enough. 
 Before the oar could get a second hold on 
 the water, a great maddening cascade, larger
 
 1 8 THE ROBE'S ISLAND WRECK. 
 
 and stronger than all the rest, picked up the 
 boat as if she were a child's plaything, and 
 tossed her angrily towards the shore. 
 
 The men on land ran forward and helped 
 the surfmen get the boat back on the sand. 
 And they brought with her the form of the 
 captain, his right arm powerless, and blood 
 streaming from a deep gash across his 
 temple. 
 
 Henry Dane saw all this. He saw what 
 the broken wrist meant. He saw the 
 grounded vessel giving way to the pounding 
 of the waves. He saw that the lives upon 
 her had to be saved at any cost. There in 
 the stern he would be at home, he whom 
 the captain had taught, whom the boys had 
 trusted. So intent were his thoughts that 
 he scarcely felt the clinging of the woman 
 at his side of her who was more to him 
 than all the world scarcely heard her 
 words imploring him not to go. 
 
 " We need another man," hallooed Tom. 
 
 Henry looked at the trembling form of his 
 wife, and unclasped her hands from his arm. 
 
 " It 's my duty ; I must," he said. 
 
 " Then go," she replied ; " and may God 
 keep you ! " 
 
 He sprang forward. In an instant he was 
 in the stern, with the steering-oar balanced for
 
 THE ROBE'S ISLAND WRECK ig 
 
 its work. There were no cheers, no demon- 
 strations from the islanders. It was Henry's 
 place to go, and he went ; that was all. And, 
 moreover, most of the folks were around the 
 prostrate captain, binding up his wounds, and 
 holding him down. 
 
 The surfmen and their new captain saw 
 nothing, knew nothing, but the work ahead 
 of them. As Henry stood at his post the 
 whiteness left his face, and all the old 
 earnestness rushed back to warm his blood, 
 to strengthen his muscle. 
 
 It seemed like the old days to the surfmen 
 to hear him sing out : " Steady now, boys. 
 Here comes a bully one. One, two, three, 
 let her go ! " 
 
 She went. Into the seething turbulence 
 she fell, and on the snowy crest she rose. 
 Henry held her true and straight. He 
 profited by the captain's failure ; calculated 
 for the diagonal waves, and with firm nerve 
 and splendid strength guided her through the 
 dangers of the breakers. His loud voice rose 
 above the storm. 
 
 " Strong there, Tom. There 's a whopper. 
 All together, boys. That 's past. Now we 're 
 all right." 
 
 The men never pulled more magnificently, 
 and the boat, obedient to the helmsman's
 
 20 THE ROBE'S ISLAND WRECK. 
 
 touch, leaped from wave to wave, carrying 
 the prayers of those on shore, the hopes of 
 the freezing wretches on the wreck. 
 
 And yet she seemed to go slowly oh, so 
 slowly ! The captain, his left eye hid by the 
 rough cloths which were bound around his 
 wound, arose and looked. 
 
 " God bless the boy ! " he said. 
 
 And the people thought the boy needed it, 
 for the boat was often hidden by the spray, 
 and it looked as if she could not live through 
 the trip. But when they saw Henry stand- 
 ing steadfastly at his post, the men working 
 the oars like machines, and the whole crew 
 fighting the storm inch by inch towards the 
 vessel, they took hope, and believed that he 
 would conquer. It was a half-hour of inde- 
 scribable suspense, a half-hour that seemed 
 a whole day, but at the end of it the surf- 
 boat was nearer the vessel's side. 
 
 Three times she tried to approach the 
 wreck, and three times the waves swept her 
 away; and as failure followed failure, the 
 five men and the boy on the vessel seemed 
 to give up hope. But not so Henry, The 
 fourth time success came, and in a minute 
 the six castaways jumped aboard, and 
 nestled there in speechless joy. 
 
 All knew the perils of the trip ashore.
 
 THE ROBE'S ISLAND WRECK. 21 
 
 Progress was easier, but the dangers were 
 greater. Henry was exuberant no longer. 
 His face was grim, not boyish, and the pale- 
 ness came back. For a while the boat cut 
 swiftly through the sea, leaping from breaker 
 to breaker with splendid speed. But when 
 she reached the cut-off channel that ran be- 
 tween the shore and the shoals the serious 
 work began. The beach seemed only a 
 few yards away, but between it and the boat 
 more than one tragedy had ended the hopes 
 of sailors in bygone years. Henry knew it 
 well. Just as the boat plunged into it, a hid- 
 den current tried to pull her to her death ; 
 but he was quick, and the boat was brought 
 back to her course. A minute more and 
 they were in the thick of the eddies, and the 
 thundering breakers hammered the boat with 
 titanic force. They were over more than half 
 the channel now. A few more pulls meant 
 land and safety. 
 
 " Pull, boys ; pull for your lives ! " 
 They did so, but there was a monster 
 breaker chasing them like a wild beast after 
 its prey. With lips set, the man in the stern 
 concentrated every muscle upon the work : 
 but, just as he seemed to be getting ready 
 to beach the boat and clasp his wife in his 
 arms, his hand relaxed, and he fell.
 
 22 THE ROBE'S ISLAND WRECK. 
 
 As Tom jumped to the oar, the big breaker 
 took the boat and tossed her near enough 
 in for the captain and the men, who were 
 waist-deep in the surf, to grab her side. 
 There was a turbulence of whirling water, 
 of rapid movement, of strange words and 
 anxious cries, and the boat and her crew 
 and her passengers were safe on the beach. 
 
 All safe save one. His unconscious form 
 rested listlessly on the boat's bottom. The 
 men bore it tenderly to a place where the 
 women had spread their shawls. The big 
 captain knelt in the snow and tried to bring 
 life from death. 
 
 "He must be taken home," said Tom. 
 " We '11 do it, captain. Your wrist is 
 broken." 
 
 " Wrist be d ! " and the rugged old 
 
 fellow lifted him in his big arms and carried 
 him through the storm, followed by the 
 woman who had asked God to keep him. 
 
 III. 
 
 " LIKE everything else, this marrying busi- 
 ness is pretty much a matter of circum- 
 stances," explained the captain to me two 
 years later.
 
 THE ROBE'S ISLAND WRECK. 23 
 
 We had arrived on the island after a long 
 absence. The old fellow was changed 
 greatly changed. His beard and his speech 
 and his dress were all better trimmed, and 
 he bore an air of intense respectability. 
 
 " Now, for instance," he went on, " take 
 a man who 's got his notions set. He goes 
 on through life without finding anybody to 
 fit them notions. You can't blame him for 
 staying single. But suppose that a man is 
 put on a island, and he finds a woman 
 there, a fine woman, too, and the cir- 
 cumstances throw them at each other every 
 day in the week, why, what 's to be done, 
 notions or no notions, but to call in the first 
 preacher that comes along?" 
 
 " Captain, your logic is beneath respect, 
 and, what 's more, I 'd like to know if an old 
 woman-hater like you has any right to talk 
 about marriage ? Has an infidel a right to 
 preach from a pulpit ? " 
 
 " Yes, he has when he 's converted. 
 Have n't you heard ? " 
 
 " You don't mean to say " 
 
 " Yes, I do. I 'm converted. Oh, I 'm 
 married. You need n't laugh. It was n't 
 my fault; it was circumstances. You see, 
 after Henry's death from heart-disease in 
 that wreck, we all said the widder should
 
 24 THE ROBE'S ISLAND WRECK. 
 
 have the school back ; but there was another 
 widder in the way, and she said she was 
 going to stay on the island on account of 
 her health, and there we were. Talk about 
 your circumstances, two widders is a whole 
 boatload. Well, I had to go to see the 
 second widder about the school and so on, 
 and I found out she was n't going to budge, 
 and the only way to get her out of the school 
 was for somebody to marry her. I swore to 
 myself that Henry's wife should get back 
 in that school, if I had to turn Mormon, 
 and marry a whole county full of widders. 
 So I kept on going to see her, and pretty 
 soon we dropped school, and began to talk 
 about other things, and so on, and such like, 
 all of which was a d d draggled " 
 
 " ' Draggled,' captain ? " 
 
 The captain gave a sigh of infinite pathos, 
 and continued : " Yes, draggled ! That 's 
 one of the drawbacks of marriage she 
 won't let me swear ; won't let me say any- 
 thing worse than draggled. Now don't you 
 listen to the yarns the boys '11 tell you about 
 the hard time I had giving it up. It was 
 hard; but, as I was saying, that going to 
 see the widder got to be a draggled sight 
 pleasanter than I ever imagined, and inside 
 of a month we called in a preacher. And
 
 THE ROBE'S ISLAND WRECK. 25 
 
 so Henry's widder got the school, and she 's 
 got it yet ; and we built her that new house 
 over yonder ; and if there 's anything she 
 wants on this island or anywhere else, the 
 boys will get it for her, and thank her for 
 letting 'em do it." 
 
 " I suppose, captain, that you like married 
 life ? " 
 
 " Like it ? Young man, I was here on 
 earth fifty-one years, and when I was fifty- 
 two the day the preacher came in I 
 commenced to live. I 've got the best wife 
 in the world. She 's the best woman in the 
 world except Henry's widder, who is the 
 best woman in the world except my wife. 
 But here we are at the station. You '11 stay 
 for dinner, and after we eat, we '11 go over 
 and look at the boy's grave." 
 
 It was delightful to be welcomed by such 
 a woman as Mrs. Graves, but it was strange, 
 very strange, to see the captain bow his 
 head with real reverence, and hear him say 
 grace with genuine unction. 
 
 Late in the afternoon we strolled over to 
 the little cemetery. We stood together by 
 the carefully kept grave, and read this 
 inscription :
 
 26 THE ROBB'S ISLAND WRECK. 
 
 Here Lies the Body of Henry Dane, 
 
 Aged 25 Years. 
 
 Who Gave His Life, November 19, for the Six 
 Souls on the Wrecked Schooner 
 
 Ocean View. 
 
 He Was a Hero and a Christian. 
 Erected by his Comrades of the Robb's Island 
 Station. f 
 
 " Greater love hath no man than this, that a 
 man lay down his life for his friends."
 
 TWO BOOMS. 
 
 ALEM City was booming. It was no 
 ordinary boom ; it was a flood-tide of specu- 
 lation. Twice before it had risen above the 
 tedium of its sluggish life, once when the 
 steamboats came, and once when the prairie 
 caravans used it as a stopping-place ; but the 
 steamboats forsook its muddy banks and 
 the caravans found a better road, and the 
 village resumed its stagnancy. 
 
 But one bright day a nervous man, dressed 
 carefully in a Prince Albert coat and a high 
 hat, broke upon the monotony of the place. 
 A dozen surmises were made as to his call- 
 ing. A drummer he was not, for he sold no 
 goods ; a minister he could not be, for he 
 patronized the bar: a lawyer he might 
 be, but he declined to satisfy curiosity. He 
 walked over the village ; he talked of the 
 climate ; he asked questions until he ex- 
 hausted all sources of information. In a 
 day he knew who owned property, and the
 
 25 TWO BOOMS. 
 
 next day he had bought options on two 
 squares, five business lots, and three out- 
 lying fields, besides purchasing outright the 
 best house in the place. 
 
 Then he went away. He travelled four 
 hundred miles until he reached a small city. 
 He entered a modest house, and was promptly 
 embraced by a sweet-faced woman, who 
 called him husband, and by a brown-eyed 
 girl, who greeted him with, " Well, Pop, are 
 we going to move ? " 
 
 Anthony Hoddle was a dealer in groceries. 
 In a busy career of twenty years he had 
 built up a successful trade, and his bank 
 account had reached twenty thousand dol- 
 lars. He was in the prime of life, a few 
 weeks past forty, and his ambitions had 
 long looked beyond their retail limitations. 
 He felt that his ability was worthy of a 
 higher destiny than the slow accumulation 
 of fractional profits upon sugar and coffee 
 and flour and salt mackerel. This ability 
 was certainly better fitted for public display 
 than for the comparative privacy of the 
 store-room. It was the ability of speech that 
 monopolized and overwhelmed by its natural 
 volubility, a torrent of words and phrases 
 that flowed with as much force, but without 
 as much disorder, as a torrent usually does.
 
 TWO BOOMS. 29 
 
 He was a natural talker, a personified organ 
 of speech. He could tell the news of the 
 week while he was dealing out a pound of 
 coffee. He once disposed of the doctrine 
 of eternal punishment before he filled his 
 minister's order for four pounds of sugar. 
 The incident is on record that he discussed 
 the whole tariff question while he was get- 
 ting a gallon of molasses. It is true that the 
 day was cold and the molasses ran slowly 
 through the spigot, but that does not detract 
 from the glory of his performance. To use 
 the words of one of the customers, he could 
 talk an ebb-tide out, and still be in a condi- 
 tion to talk it back to a flood. 
 
 Mr. Hoddle's opportunity came when he 
 heard that a new railroad was to be built 
 with a place called Salem as its terminus. 
 
 " Yes, we 're going to move," he replied 
 to the young lady's question, and when there 
 were signs of sadness, if not of absolute dis- 
 appointment, in the faces of the two women 
 before him, he immediately rose to the oc- 
 casion, and used his eloquence as if it was 
 the crisis of his life. 
 
 " Of course it 's hard to break away from 
 a place to which you are tied by twenty 
 years of hard work, but it 's either that or 
 the grocery business as long as the good
 
 30 TWO BOOMS. 
 
 Lord lets us live. And I tell you now that 
 I want a change, and so do you. I 'm tired 
 of this humdrum, get-up-at-six-o'clock-in-the- 
 morning-and-slave-all-day life, and so are you. 
 Just at present Salem is not the loveliest 
 place I ever saw, but it 's going to be a big 
 city. In six months it will be crowded ; in 
 a year it will not know itself ; in two years 
 it will have a society, and as first settlers 
 you will be aristocrats. We shall become 
 wealthy, famous, happy. I 'm determined. 
 I sell out to-morrow if I can. Next week 
 we move." 
 
 The night, practically consumed in discus- 
 sion, ended in a lot of new hopes undimmed 
 by fears. 
 
 By the time they reached Salem a few 
 other real estate speculators had learned of 
 the railroad, and had descended upon the 
 village. With these Mr. Hoddle made 
 prompt acquaintance. He even sold them 
 some land, at twice what he paid for it, 
 and as quickly as possible he bought other 
 ground on the outskirts of the town. 
 
 The boom began. It attracted strangers ; 
 it brought a horde of real estate agents ; it 
 revolutionized the village. The rough inn 
 became a hotel ; the eating-house outgrew 
 its home-made name and paraded as a
 
 TWO BOOMS. 31 
 
 restaurant. Salem was no longer a vil- 
 lage; it was Salem City. Hoddle's early 
 arrival on the field had given him the pres- 
 tige of a discoverer. He used it to its full- 
 est value. He had the American genius 
 of adaptability, and he ensconced himself 
 snugly in the boom. 
 
 It was he who called the real estate men 
 together for a consultation. They answered 
 the summons. Interested in selfish results, 
 their very selfishness made them anxious for 
 the future of the town. They talked and 
 advised and orated and discussed. But the 
 speech of the day was made by Hoddle. 
 
 " Gentlemen," he said, " we all want this 
 town to boom. How shall we do it ? Two 
 words solve the problem : stand together ! 
 We shall have our differences, our quarrels, 
 and our contentions; but on one point we 
 must be unanimous : we must talk this town 
 up. If one of us goes away he must boom 
 Salem City. Every man must be an adver- 
 tising committee. Get interviewed in the 
 papers ; write letters ; send out circulars ; 
 get the eye of the world on Salem ; picture 
 it as the fairest spot on earth. If any man 
 says anything against our boom, denounce 
 him as a traitor and a slanderer. Blow 
 hard, and blow all the time. A boom is
 
 32 TWO BOOMS. 
 
 like a balloon ; you 've got to inflate it. 
 We may have our little differences and rival- 
 ries among ourselves that 's all right ; but 
 one thing we must all do : we must give this 
 boom a plenty of wind." 
 
 Before Hoddle could part the tails of his 
 Prince Albert coat and sit down, a great 
 chorus of approval greeted his outburst of 
 practical eloquence. He had struck the 
 key-note, and the choir of real estate spec- 
 ulators at once began an unceasing pecan to 
 the glory of Salem City's matchless resources 
 and immeasurable future. 
 
 Hoddle rode triumphantly on the crest 
 of the boom. The admiring populace pro- 
 moted him to a colonelcy, and Colonel Hod- 
 dle took hold of things with a fine grasp. 
 He ran real estate speculation at full speed 
 with both throttles open. Selling sugar at 
 cost with three profits on coffee was n't a 
 circumstance. When an investor drifted his 
 way he gorged him with adjectives, deluged 
 him with descriptions, and intoxicated him 
 with figures. It was worth going across 
 the continent to see him talk. His Prince 
 Albert coat, as if afraid to conceal such a 
 personality, flopped open and displayed a 
 wealth of shirt bosom that seemed to reflect 
 the lustre of his radiant optimism. He did
 
 TWO BOOMS. 33 
 
 not converse; he orated. His voice had 
 caught the breeziness of the landscape, and 
 no man who came in contact with him could 
 escape without feeling that Salem City was 
 destined to outgrow the fullest resources of 
 the dictionary and the multiplication-table. 
 If by accident any man doubted after 
 Colonel Hoddle's shower-bath of statistical 
 enthusiasm, the colonel would remark : 
 " You see that square over there ? Well, 
 I bought it two months ago for two thou- 
 sand. You can have it now for fifty thou- 
 sand. Come back this time next year, and 
 I '11 charge you a hundred thousand." 
 
 And so the boom developed. Organized 
 exaggeration spread its fame. From one 
 end of the country to the other the papers 
 told of its marvellous growth. Investors 
 who would demand abundant collateral 
 and ten per cent at home, bought corner 
 lots a half-mile from Salem's limits with 
 no assurance except the flattering promises 
 of the agents. 
 
 All this was intensified by the survey of 
 the new Prairie and Deep Water Railroad, 
 which was brought to the northern edge of 
 the city. There it was hesitating as to 
 which route to take to get it to the river- 
 front. Colonel Hoodie had anticipated it. 
 3
 
 34 TWO BOOMS. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said he, to a party of prop- 
 erty owners whom he had assembled in his 
 office, " this road is being built by New York 
 capitalists. They 've got a plenty of money. 
 They expect to spend it. The situation is 
 in our hands. We can offer them free 
 ground a part of the way and charge them 
 like the deuce for the rest. What do you 
 say to a syndicate ? " 
 
 It was a fruitful suggestion. The syndi- 
 cate was formed. The plan was to give the 
 road right of way along the eastern side of 
 Salem City, and make up all gifts a dozen 
 times over by charging ten prices for termi- 
 nal facilities. 
 
 From the"company came a cordial letter 
 thanking the citizens for their liberality. 
 The offer would be considered and an 
 answer returned. But as the days passed 
 and no reply was received, Hoddle grew 
 uneasy. 
 
 "Windsor, what do you think of it?" 
 asked Colonel Hoddle. 
 
 Windsor had been in town only a week, 
 he came there, he said, on account of the 
 climate, but in that short time he had 
 made the acquaintance of every man in the 
 place, of Hoddle especially. " I like you, 
 colonel," he had said, "because you are
 
 TWO BOOMS. 35 
 
 candid, and are a gentleman a man can 
 trust." The colonel felt flattered and recip- 
 rocated the friendship. Moreover, he had 
 seen that Windsor was a man of insinuating 
 usefulness. He had a peculiar faculty for 
 finding out things. For instance, the day 
 before, a little information through Windsor 
 had led to a bargain which netted him over 
 a thousand dollars. Windsor seemed to be 
 sincerely attached to him from the outset, 
 and the colonel saw in him a friend who 
 could be used. The abnormal circum- 
 stances of the boom made all sorts of 
 attachments, and a day was as a week as 
 far as social acquaintance went. 
 
 So the colonel called Windsor in to talk 
 about the mysterious silence of the new 
 railroad people. "It looks as if they were 
 going to play some dodge on us and escape 
 our syndicate," said he. 
 
 Windsor was silent. He was wrapped in 
 corrugated thought. S uddenly he arose from 
 his chair and walked up and down the office 
 floor. Just as suddenly he stopped in front 
 of the colonel, and exclaimed, 
 
 " By George ! I wonder if it is true ? " 
 
 " What ? " 
 
 " Why, this. Last night I took a stroll in 
 the West End. I 'm troubled with insomnia,
 
 36 TWO BOOMS. 
 
 you know, and I often go out at night to 
 walk myself tired, so that I can sleep. It 
 was late. Near the county road I heard 
 several men measuring with chains. What 
 did it mean ? I wonder if it was n't a sur- 
 veying party ? " 
 
 The colonel jumped up. " You Ve hit it, 
 my dear fellow you've hit it. My sus- 
 picions are correct. They 're trying to get 
 an entrance by the west side." 
 
 "Not so fast, colonel; I may be mistaken. 
 Let 's make sure of this thing. Come with 
 me to-night, and we '11 see if the performance 
 is repeated." 
 
 Late that night two men crept softly along 
 the county road. At first they heard nothing, 
 but presently sounds of a company of men 
 drifted over the field. They crept closer. 
 They saw chains and compasses. It was a 
 surveying party. 
 
 The next day the colonel was a busy man. 
 First he shifted a lot of his own real estate ; 
 then he kindly informed the syndicate of his 
 discoveries. There was a rush to the West 
 End property, and it was intensified upon 
 the receipt of a letter from the company 
 politely declining the proffers of the syndi- 
 cate. Colonel Hoddle was happy, for he 
 had four hours' start of all his fellow-agents.
 
 TWO BOOMS. 37 
 
 In all the hurry of speculation Colonel 
 Hoddle's family duties were not neglected. 
 He had a happy household. Mrs. Hoddle 
 was a kindly woman, devoted, domestic, and 
 popular. She had easily taken her position 
 at the head of the new society of Salem 
 City. Her daughter, Miss Elizabeth, was 
 by common consent the belle of the future 
 metropolis. She was a good musician, an 
 easy-mannered, approachable girl who made 
 friends and maintained her own indepen- 
 dence. The family, probably the wealthiest 
 in the place, had the handsomest house, and 
 entertained freely. At the table the colonel 
 was a royal host. After he parted the tails 
 of his Prince Albert coat and sat down, 
 there was not a dull moment. 
 
 " I tell you that Windsor is a perfect 
 mascot," he said, the day after his West 
 End deals. " If he will only stay in this 
 town we will soon be millionaires, and I 
 suppose I will be obliged to get elected to 
 the United States Senate." 
 
 Windsor was invited to dinner. He made 
 himself agreeable, and he and the colonel 
 cemented their friendship by an entire even- 
 ing of confidential conversation, sanctified 
 by the plenteous incense of tobacco smoke. 
 
 A week later the colonel came home to
 
 38 TWO BOOMS. 
 
 dinner in very good spirits. He parted the 
 tails of his Prince Albert coat and sat down 
 with his usual dignity. Something seemed 
 to be amusing him. It got into his throat, 
 and broke out into short spasms. 
 
 " What is the matter with you ? " asked 
 Mrs. Hoddle. 
 
 " Oh, nothing, nothing. I merely want to 
 die that 's all." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Oh, you ought to have met him, J. 
 Maximilian Ross. Dwell on the name, 
 J. Maximilian Ross. He wears it all, and he 
 lives. He 's got it engraved on cards. He 
 struggles under a stove-pipe hat. I 've seen 
 him, and I want to go away far, far away 
 far to a foreign shore." 
 
 " Anthony," said Mrs. Hoddle, severely, 
 " are you intoxicated ? " 
 
 " I don't know, Susanna I don't know. 
 Perhaps I am. J. Maximilian Ross!" 
 
 " In Heaven's name, Mr. Hoddle, who are 
 you talking about ? Be sensible for once in 
 your life." 
 
 "Impossible, dear impossible. Family 
 association, you know." 
 
 At this point Miss Elizabeth came to her 
 mother's assistance. It was the combined 
 curiosity of two women against one man.
 
 TWO BOOMS. 39 
 
 The great speculator met the onslaught by 
 an ignominious surrender. 
 
 " Well," he said, " I '11 tell you. He came 
 in this morning, young, fresh, and beautiful 
 more fresh than beautiful fresh from 
 the East, fresh from New York, fresh from 
 a bandbox. But, thanks be to the fates, he 
 was salted with money. That caught this 
 bird ; it always does. He wanted to invest. 
 I undertook to give him a few facts." 
 
 "Facts?" 
 
 " No interruption, please. Yes, facts and 
 figures. He opened his mouth and swal- 
 lowed them, gulped them down, feasted on 
 them. This afternoon he is to return, and 
 perhaps I '11 buy you a case of diamonds on 
 the proceeds." 
 
 "Where do I come in?" asked Miss 
 Elizabeth. 
 
 " I '11 give you a father's blessing and J. 
 Maximilian." 
 
 " Never mind the blessing," was the re- 
 sponse ; " I '11 take the man." 
 
 " My dear," said the fond father, " when 
 the real estate agents of this great and 
 booming city get through with J. Maximilian 
 Ross he won't have enough money left to 
 get back home. But" looking at his 
 watch " here I 've spent all this time and
 
 40 TWO BOOMS. 
 
 not a sale to show for it. It 's bad policy. 
 Next time I get married I 'm going to hunt 
 up the ugliest woman in America. Then 
 I '11 never want to leave my business." 
 
 At supper that night he was as beaming 
 as ever, and he had scarcely got the napkin 
 tucked under his chin which performance, 
 I regret to say, the unperfected culture of 
 the uncompleted city allowed before he 
 began to relate the events of the afternoon. 
 
 "J. Maximilian has invested," he said; 
 "and what do you suppose he bought? 
 That mudhole at the bend of the j-iver. 
 Cost me two hundred dollars. Sold it to 
 him for two thousand : net profits, eighteen 
 hundred. He's going to settle here, he 
 thinks. Poor fellow! we'll try to make it 
 pleasant for him, even if he does have to 
 pay for it. I Ve invited him and Windsor 
 to supper to-morrow. You '11 have to stand 
 him for an hour or so for my sake. There 's 
 nothing like flavoring business with a little 
 hospitality, you know. 
 
 The next evening Mr. Ross came to tea. 
 The ladies were anxious to see him. Their 
 expectations were not disappointed. They 
 saw a tall, fashionably dressed young man, 
 rather good-looking, but entirely emotionless 
 as far as outward indications went. He was
 
 TWO BOOMS. 41 
 
 not a fluent talker, but he selected his words 
 with intelligence, and his occasional stutter- 
 ing did not greatly interfere with his speech. 
 The Hoddle family were talkers, and with 
 Windsor's polite assistance they made up for 
 all deficiencies, and conversation went with 
 a rush, breaking only when it ran against 
 Mr. Ross's struggling syllables. The meal 
 went off with comfortable and well-digested 
 success, and the party adjourned to the par- 
 lor, where Miss Elizabeth made her first 
 effort to engage the guest in conversation. 
 
 " I suppose you find this city very rough 
 compared to your Eastern home?" 
 
 " Y-e-s," he said, slowly. 
 
 This was not an enthusiastic opening of 
 the acquaintance, but it did not discourage 
 Miss Elizabeth. She was of an impression- 
 able age, men were few, and she admired 
 fashion even on a dummy. 
 
 " It is a new town," she added. 
 
 " Y-e-s, but a mighty progressive one." 
 
 This was better. In fact it continued to 
 improve, and it was not long before Miss 
 Elizabeth and Mr. Ross were carrying on 
 such a conversation that the colonel and 
 Windsor begged permission to retire to the 
 library for a smoke. 
 
 After a while Mr. Ross looked toward the
 
 42 TWO BOOMS. 
 
 piano and asked Miss Elizabeth if she played. 
 She did. Would she play ? Certainly, and 
 she did so with great satisfaction. 
 
 He was glancing over her music, and 
 presently he held up a piece and said, 
 
 " This is a very pretty song. Won't you 
 sing it ? " 
 
 " Look again," she replied ; " it's a duet." 
 
 " Why, so it is ! How stupid of me ! But 
 if you don't mind, I might spoil it by assist- 
 ing you." 
 
 A cheerful assent, a few introductory bars, 
 and two voices joined in the song. It was a 
 good song well sung. Mrs. Hoddle sat silent, 
 delighted with the music. But in the delight 
 crept a fear. 
 
 " You have a lovely voice ! " exclaimed Miss 
 Elizabeth, just as the song was finished. 
 
 " Really that is not fair," rejoined J. Maxi- 
 milian ; " you took the words from me. You 
 sing b-beautifully." 
 
 There were several more songs, and pres- 
 ently the colonel and Windsor returned from 
 their cigars. The evening soon ended, and 
 Mr. Ross and Mr. Windsor were invited to 
 call again. These two men seemed perfect 
 opposites Windsor suave, effusive, confi- 
 dential; Ross cold, distant, indifferent; and 
 as they left the house they walked on as
 
 TWO BOOMS. 43 
 
 if each desired to be a stranger to the 
 other. 
 
 " Well, what do you think of him? " asked 
 the colonel. Miss Elizabeth had slipped 
 away, and the colonel and his wife were 
 alone. 
 
 " Anthony, do you remember the night you 
 proposed to me ? " 
 
 " Of course I do. We sang a duet, and 
 you said I had a beautiful yes, that 's 
 the word beautiful voice." 
 
 " People grow more truthful as they grow 
 older." 
 
 But the colonel ignored the interruption. 
 "It was the first time that anybody said I 
 could sing at all, and I proposed on the 
 spot." 
 
 "Anthony, after you and Mr. Windsor 
 went to the library to-night, Elizabeth and 
 Mr. Ross sang a duet." 
 
 " The mischief they did ! " 
 
 " Yes ; and they sang better than we did." 
 
 " Impossible ! " 
 
 " And when two young people get to 
 singing duets it's serious." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " How would you like J. Maximilian Ross 
 for a son-in-law ? " 
 
 " Merciful Jupiter ! Susanna, what do you
 
 44 TWO BOOMS. 
 
 mean ? Why, I 'd feel disgraced for life. 
 I 'd sell out and emigrate." 
 
 The result of it all was that the colonel's 
 antipathy to the young man increased a 
 hundredfold. " If he was a man," he said, 
 "I wouldn't mind. But that thing? Not 
 much ! " 
 
 In business he called him "the dude with 
 the parted name." At home he alluded to 
 him tenderly as J. Maxie. 
 
 " Colonel," said a caller one day, " I want 
 to sell that lot of mine over in East Sa- 
 lem." 
 
 "Sorry, major," replied the colonel, "but 
 I would n't take it at any price. The only 
 person I know who '11 buy is that picturesque 
 ass J. Maximilian Ross. You can sell him 
 anything." 
 
 So it became the colonel's standing advice 
 to people who wanted to dispose of unsalable 
 lots to go to J. Maximilian Ross. They 
 always went. They found the same in- 
 different young man. He didn't want to 
 buy particularly ; in fact he thought he had 
 enough land already; but what was their 
 price ? That much ? Oh, it was too high, 
 you know. It wasn't right to impose on 
 a stranger. Then the owner would come 
 down, and when he got low enough, J.
 
 TWO BOOMS. 45 
 
 Maximilian Ross would offer a little less, 
 and the bargain was closed. 
 
 More than a month elapsed. The boom 
 was confined to West Side property, and the 
 young city was full of speculation. J. Max- 
 imilian took life quietly. He visited the 
 Hoddles; he took Miss Elizabeth driving; 
 he made few acquaintances, and he wore 
 the same indifference that he had brought 
 with him from the East. 
 
 "Windsor," said the colonel, "it does 
 seem that this whole town is palming off 
 its bad lots on the dude, does n't it ? " 
 
 " It looks that way." 
 
 " I notice that he is still sinking his money 
 on the East Side. He was fool enough to 
 buy that mud-hole. I wonder if I could n't 
 get rid of those lots around it? Do you 
 think we can work it ? " 
 
 " Suppose I talk with him ? " 
 
 "All right." 
 
 He did so. The result was a sale at a 
 figure that made the colonel jubilant. 
 
 " Well," said he at the supper-table, " I 'm 
 glad J. Maxie settled in this town. He 's 
 such a tender bird, so innocent, so easy to 
 pluck. I got several thousands more out 
 of him to-day." 
 
 " I would n't boast of it if I were you," 
 said Miss Elizabeth.
 
 40 TWO BOOMS. 
 
 "My dear," responded the father, "if a 
 fool and his money are soon parted, it's 
 the fault of the fool ; and if nature did n't 
 supply us with fools, what would become 
 of speculation?" 
 
 " Father, did it ever strike you that Mr. 
 Ross is not as big a fool as he looks ? " 
 
 " No," answered the colonel, reflectively ; 
 " it strikes me he is a bigger fool than he 
 looks." 
 
 All this did not affect the visits that J. 
 Maximilian Ross made to the colonel's 
 house, visits which were musical with 
 duets. Mr. Ross was very attentive, and 
 Miss Elizabeth seemed bright and happy. 
 The colonel bore it all with an easy grace. 
 He believed in the fullest freedom, and he 
 would do nothing to restrict the happiness 
 of his daughter. Furthermore, he scarcely 
 thought that anything would result from 
 the acquaintanceship. He gave Miss Eliza- 
 beth credit for more sense. 
 
 But he calculated wrongly. It was the 
 same old story. The director of those duets 
 was a merry little fellow named Cupid. And 
 he did his work well. 
 
 Mrs. Hoddle saw the result. " Elizabeth," 
 said she, one day when they were alone, " has 
 Mr. Ross proposed yet ? "
 
 TWO BOOMS. 47 
 
 " Not yet," was the reply, uttered in mock 
 seriousness; "but I expect him to soon. 
 He 's very slow, you know." And with a 
 laugh to hide the rising blushes, she fled 
 from the room. 
 
 Mrs. Hoddle shook her head and said 
 nothing. She did not even mention it to 
 the colonel. 
 
 But Mr. J. Maximilian Ross had some- 
 thing to say. It was about a week after- 
 ward. He entered the colonel's office, and 
 found the great speculator alone. The 
 colonel parted the tails of his Prince Albert 
 coat as usual, sat down with dignity, and 
 placing his fingers together, said : 
 
 " Well, what can I do for you ? " 
 
 J. Maximilian sat bolt-upright, and tugged 
 away on his glove. 
 
 " Colonel, I came to ask a great favor of 
 you." 
 
 " What is it ? " 
 
 " The hand of your daughter.'' 
 
 "W-h-a-t? You? 
 
 " Yes ; why not ? " 
 
 " You ? " 
 
 " If you wish any information about my 
 position and my family " 
 
 "Your family," interrupted the colonel, 
 with steadily rising wrath " your family ?
 
 48 TWO BOOMS. 
 
 Do you think my daughter wants to marry 
 your family ? How much will your ances- 
 tors honor your note for ? " 
 
 " I have money." 
 
 " You have now. But, great Scott ! how 
 long will you have it ? The way you 're 
 going, you '11 be a beggar inside of six 
 months. What do I care for your family ? 
 I 've seen you ; that 's enough. I want my 
 daughter to marry a man who can make 
 money, not one who throws it away." 
 
 " Is that your answer ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, it is. And it will continue to be 
 my answer until you can show that you have 
 sense enough to get in when it rains. For 
 Heaven's sake, young man, do something 
 do something ! Try to be a man. Give 
 nature some excuse for your existence." 
 
 " Is that all ? " asked J. Maximilian, in 
 the coolest possible way. 
 
 The colonel fell back in his chair. His 
 feelings had overcome his powers of speech. 
 
 J. Maximilian arose, walked quietly to the 
 door, and remarking, " Very sorry to have 
 troubled you good-afternoon," sauntered 
 down the street as unconcernedly as if noth- 
 ing had happened. The fires might have 
 been raging within, but all was unimpas- 
 sioned without.
 
 TWO BOOMS. 49 
 
 Not so with the colonel. For a few 
 minutes his collapse continued. Then he 
 gradually recovered. The more he recov- 
 ered, the higher his vehemence rose. He 
 felt like the hero of Bitter Creek, who 
 wanted all creation to come into that room 
 so that he could get a chance to thrash it. 
 It required two days for him to cool down to 
 his normal temperature. 
 
 But the colonel knew womankind well 
 enough not to adopt arbitrary measures. 
 All he said to his daughter was : 
 
 " Elizabeth, you are a girl of good sense, 
 and I 've only one thing to ask of you. 
 When you think of getting married don't 
 marry a fool." 
 
 " I won't, father. Be sure of that." 
 
 J. Maximilian Ross continued to pursue a 
 very quiet course. He had money, but he 
 very frankly said that he could not afford to 
 buy expensive property. He was willing to 
 invest modestly, and wait for a gradual rise 
 in values. The boom was going on almost 
 entirely in West Side land. The contem- 
 plated railroad there promised to shift the 
 business centre of the city and concentrate 
 values in that locality. Westward the course 
 of speculation took its way. The crowds 
 went with it. On East Side lots prices fell. 
 4
 
 50 TWO BOOMS. 
 
 As the only buyer, J. Maximilian Ross se- 
 cured bargains at his own figure. He 
 seemed to buy because the agents persuaded 
 him into buying, not because he wanted it. 
 One day he made an offer for the square 
 owned by Colonel Hoddle. The colonel's 
 price was fifty thousand dollars. 
 
 " Twenty-five is all I can give," said J. 
 Maximilian. 
 
 " Then you won't get it," said the colonel. 
 
 The railroad people were strangely inac- 
 tive. They had not begun operations around 
 Salem. Suspicion took hold of the agents. 
 As usual, the colonel consulted Windsor. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " he asked. 
 
 Windsor pulled a letter from his pocket. 
 It was from New York, and in it was this 
 sentence : " We hear that the Prairie and 
 Deep Water Railroad people have changed 
 their programme. They are going to take 
 their road to Concord instead of to Salem. 
 They claim that it will be cheaper." 
 
 This perturbed the great speculator. He 
 thought of it all night. The next morning 
 he got the local paper from Concord. 
 
 " We can state on good authority," said 
 the " Concord Civilizer," in leaded type, 
 " that the new railroad has selected Concord 
 for its terminus. This shows good sense.
 
 TWO BOOMS. 51 
 
 Salem City the idea of a one-horse town 
 being called a city ! is nothing but a mud- 
 hole worked by a gang of speculators who 
 have sunk other people's money so deep that 
 they will never see it again. Concord is the 
 future metropolis ! Hurrah for us ! We 
 will have ten thousand population inside of 
 a year ! " 
 
 II. 
 
 COLONEL Hoddle was a man of action. 
 He did not hesitate. The boast of the " Con- 
 cord Civilizer " by itself meant little. Taken 
 in connection with Windsor's letter, it meant 
 everything. 
 
 To Concord the colonel hastened. He 
 looked over the town thoroughly ; he found 
 a large and active boom there. Prices had 
 jumped, and he could buy nothing except a 
 few stray lots, which he picked up with all 
 eagerness. West of Concord was a tract 
 two hundred acres in extent. Could he get 
 that? He would try. 
 
 Back to Salem City he went. He told 
 Windsor of the land, and asked him to find 
 out who owned it. In a day's time Windsor 
 got the information. He entered the office
 
 52 TWO BOOMS. 
 
 with a smile. "Who do you think owns 
 that land?" 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 "J. Maximilian Ross; and what's more, 
 I believe you can get it away from him if 
 you want it." 
 
 The colonel grabbed his hat, and without 
 taking time to thank Windsor, made straight 
 for Ross's office. He found the young man 
 in. Negotiations for the purchase were 
 begun at once. 
 
 " What will you take for it ? Name your 
 lowest price, and don't hesitate, for I have n't 
 any time to lose." 
 
 "Well," replied J. Maximilian, with his 
 usual slowness, " that land ought to be 
 worth one hundred thousand ; but I need 
 some money, and I '11 tell you what I '11 do 
 give me that square you own on the East 
 Side, that new house you have just finished 
 on the Heights, and twenty thousand dollars 
 in cash, and I '11 deed you the two hundred 
 acres." 
 
 The colonel rapidly computed the values. 
 The square he held at fifty thousand, the 
 house at ten thousand, and with the twenty 
 thousand cash the total was eighty thousand. 
 But the fall in the boom had knocked Salem 
 prices down nearly one-third, and he was
 
 TWO BOOMS. 53 
 
 getting his bargain for something like sixty 
 thousand. 
 
 " Young man," he said, " I '11 take it." 
 
 The papers were drawn up and signed 
 that day. At tea the colonel was jubilant. 
 
 " I saw J. Maxie again to-day," he said. 
 
 "So did I," says Miss Elizabeth. 
 
 "But the case is different," replied the 
 colonel, with a slight frown. " J. Maxie 
 will soon be very sorry that he ever met me. 
 There's no use denying the fact that the 
 boom in this town is played out ; that rail- 
 road is not coming here. It's going to 
 Concord, and it will take the boom with it. 
 Well, J. Maxie owned two hundred acres 
 near that town of as pretty land as you 
 could want. He does n't own it now ; it is 
 in the possession of your humble servant." 
 
 "How did you get it?" asked Mrs. 
 Hoddle. 
 
 " Policy and cash, my dear, and my mascot 
 Windsor. I expected to pay a hundred 
 thousand for it ; I got it for sixty. I was 
 sorry that J. Maximilian was so easy to 
 pluck, but forty thousand dollars is enough 
 consolation to heal a week of sorrow. I got 
 his land for twenty thousand cash, which I 
 raised on mortgages, the East Side square 
 that won't be worth twenty thousand one
 
 54 TWO BOOMS. 
 
 week from now, and that new house on the 
 Heights." 
 
 " I thought you were going to give me 
 that house some time for a wedding pres- 
 ent," interrupted Miss Elizabeth. 
 
 "Sol intended, my dear ; but you know 
 circumstances alter cases. After a while 
 we '11 move to Concord, and when you meet 
 your fate there, I '11 do the handsome thing 
 and build you a palace. As for J. Maxi- 
 milian, I suppose we '11 have to leave him to 
 pull his cash out of these Salem City mud- 
 holes. Poor fellow, how unfortunate it is 
 that nature did n't give him less style and 
 more sense ! " 
 
 For an hour the conversation lasted. It 
 was an important subject, the probability 
 of removal, but the colonel smoothed down 
 all objections by describing the superior 
 climate of Concord and the added riches 
 that his new speculations would bring. 
 They would live in a finer house, he would 
 enter politics, and a trip to Europe should 
 become a summer vacation. They adjourned 
 to the parlor; a minute afterward J. Maxi- 
 milian Ross was ushered in. Never was 
 he so carefully dressed. Never did he ap- 
 pear so calm and so polite. He bowed with 
 conventional courtliness, and then said, in 
 his indifferent way,
 
 TWO BOOMS. 55 
 
 " Colonel, I came to see you about a little 
 matter." , 
 
 " Business ? " 
 
 "Not especially. I came to see if you 
 would deliver the address on behalf of the 
 city at the laying of the corner-stone of 
 the new railroad." 
 
 " What city ? " gasped the colonel. 
 
 " Why, Salem, of course." 
 
 " Young man, are you crazy ? The rail- 
 road is not coming here ; it is going to 
 Concord." 
 
 J. Maximilian Ross raised his eyebrows 
 in surprise. " I think you 're mistaken ; it 's 
 coming here." 
 
 " Explain yourself," commanded the colo- 
 nel, with an excitement that was unusual to 
 his nature. 
 
 The conversation had taken place so rap- 
 idly that the two men were still standing. 
 
 " When the plans of the new railroad were 
 announced," said J. Maximilian, " everything 
 seemed easy, but somebody got up a syndi- 
 cate in Salem to make the company pay 
 more for terminals than it could afford. So 
 I was sent on here to see about it." 
 
 " You ? " 
 
 " Yes. Of course you know that I am the 
 representative of the company here ? "
 
 56 TWO BOOMS. 
 
 The colonel was speechless. Mrs. Hoddle 
 looked on in open-mouthed wonder. Miss 
 Elizabeth turned her chair to the fire and 
 buried her face in her hands. 
 
 J. Maximilian talked on without the faint- 
 est sign of emotion. " I had a hard time," 
 he continued, " to switch the speculation 
 over to the western side of the city while 
 I bought our right of way at reduced rates 
 on the east ; but it was a great success. We 
 saved at least twenty thousand right down 
 at the river front. I believe I bought that 
 of you, colonel ? " 
 
 The colonel groaned. " Go on," he said. 
 " What about yesterday's deal ? " 
 
 " Why, I had to have that square for the 
 company's central building, and I could n't 
 pay over twenty-five thousand for it. I tried 
 to get it, but you wouldn't come down. So 
 I put ten thousand in a lot of land at Con- 
 cord, and got about eighty thousand for it 
 Sorry for you, colonel, but it had to be 
 done." 
 
 " But Windsor told me that the railroad 
 was going there ! " 
 
 " I hope you don't trust Windsor ; he is n't 
 reliable." 
 
 The colonel's voice was growing husky. 
 The color left his face. Suddenly he
 
 TWO BOOMS. 57 
 
 cried out, " Young man, you have ruined 
 me ! " 
 
 The cry did not disturb the young man's 
 equanimity. He quietly replied, " Oh no, I 
 haven't; I've got until Saturday to keep 
 the plans quiet. To-morrow will be Thurs- 
 day. If you cannot turn that land over at 
 a good profit in two days you 're not what 
 I take you to be. But I make my silence 
 conditional." 
 
 " What 's the condition ? " 
 
 " That you deliver that address." 
 
 The colonel's smile returned. It cleared 
 away the fog from his throat and the clouds 
 from his face. 
 
 " Thank you, thank you," he said ; " I 
 will deliver the speech. I '11 "make some- 
 body pay me a hundred thousand for that 
 property. But, Mr. Ross, if there is any- 
 thing else in this county that you want, 
 please let me know." 
 
 J. Maximilian looked over to the rocking- 
 chair. Love's signal service worked to a 
 charm. The colonel saw it ; Mrs. Hoddle 
 saw it. No words were needed to empha- 
 size it. For fifteen seconds the air was 
 eloquent with silence ; it seemed like fifteen 
 minutes. 
 
 " Perhaps you know now why I wanted
 
 5 TWO BOOMS. 
 
 that house on the Heights. Elizabeth seems 
 to like it so well." 
 
 "Yes," said Elizabeth; "father likes it 
 too." 
 
 The colonel blushed actually blushed ; 
 but presently he said : " I have only one 
 favor to ask. Postpone this wedding 
 long enough for me to pay my respects 
 to Windsor." 
 
 " I don't think we can," said Mr. Ross. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " You see the climate does n't agree with 
 Windsor as much as he thought. He's 
 afraid of a change. Sometimes people like 
 him very much for a while, and then they 
 turn around and dislike him equally as 
 much. His midnight surveying parties will 
 not be popular when people understand 
 them. I fear, too, that he is responsible 
 for that Concord boom, and when it reacts, 
 as it will do next week, this locality will not 
 be as healthy for him as he would like. All 
 in all, I thought it best to send him back 
 home." 
 
 " You ? " demanded the colonel. 
 
 And J. Maximilian Ross looked up with 
 all the innocence of a sudden surprise, and 
 said, slowly and sweetly : " Really, this is 
 singular. Did n't Windsor tell you that 
 he was my confidential agent ? "
 
 TWO BOOMS. 59 
 
 The colonel looked at the young man in 
 a dazed sort of way, and sank silently into 
 the big plush chair. And for the first time 
 in his life he forgot to part the tails of his 
 Prince Albert coat. 
 
 As for J. Maximilian Ross, he walked over 
 to Mrs. Hoddle, and unrolling a sheet of 
 music, asked her if she objected to listening 
 to a new duet.
 
 IN THE EARLY CHRISTMAS 
 MORNING. 
 
 WHEN Samuel Newton sat in his office 
 the day before Christmas and looked 
 vacantly out through the window, he was 
 doing something he seldom did he was 
 wasting time. He simply could n't work. 
 You can't expect a man to concentrate any- 
 thing even his mind when he has pro- 
 posed to a widow and is waiting for her to 
 think it over. You can't expect a man to 
 keep his energy moving when his mill prop- 
 erty has been closed by a general strike, 
 with no apparent likelihood of settlement. 
 You can't expect a man to be satisfied with 
 himself when he has outdone his own sense 
 of generosity by purchasing a ten-dollar gift 
 for a small boy, even if that boy be the 
 widow's son. And when you combine the 
 uncertainty of the widow with the certainty 
 of the strike not to mention the boy 
 what can you expect?
 
 IN THE EARLY CHRISTMAS MORNING. 6l 
 
 Well, anything ! A bachelor in love after 
 forty is a sight for the gods. The youth of 
 twenty or thereabouts, or even the young 
 man on the bright side of thirty, has the 
 same emotions ; but they fit him better. 
 He nurses them as he does his mustache, 
 and saves himself from absolute submission 
 to the young lady by the somewhat cheerful 
 conceit that he is a great fellow among the 
 girls. But while love ceases to be an emo- 
 tion and becomes a plan of campaign with 
 many women after forty, with a man it 
 engrosses it overwhelms. It is the seeth- 
 ing maelstrom in which the poor fellow is 
 whirled around by alternate currents of 
 ecstasy and despair. In fact, after forty 
 love is a very serious disease, a kind of diz- 
 ziness of the head and heart, and the condi- 
 tion of a patient who is waiting for a 
 widow's answer is what the doctors call 
 critical. 
 
 Rev. Paul Worthington said all this, and 
 he ought to know, for he was in love him- 
 self ; and he had a right to know about this 
 particular case, which seemed to be the 
 exception that proved the rule, because the 
 young lady he loved was the cousin to 
 the widow Samuel Newton loved. In the 
 abstract, the Rev. Paul Worthington knew
 
 62 IN THE EARLY CHRISTMAS MORNING. 
 
 more about the art of love than Mr. Ovid 
 who wrote the book, or the Massachusetts 
 gentleman who married seventeen different 
 wives in eight different States; but in the 
 concrete he was a failure. 
 
 Incidentally, you would never have taken 
 these two men for a pair of passion-tattered 
 swains. Samuel Newton was the leading 
 banker and broker of Sandfort's two thou- 
 sand population, a prosaic, steady, unevent- 
 ful sort of man, who had trained himself 
 into a financial monotony. Rev. Paul 
 Worthington, big of body and bigger still 
 of heart, had charge of the largest church in 
 town, and his earnestness, eloquence, and 
 remarkable popularity had built its congre- 
 gation to crowded proportions. He was the 
 rare kind of clergyman who preaches the 
 dogma of one denomination and practises 
 the virtues of all. People shook him cor- 
 dially by the hand and asked him to dinner. 
 They bowed to Samuel Newton and passed 
 on. 
 
 But the clergyman, with the vantage of 
 the only intimate friendship in which Mr. 
 Newton had ever indulged they had been 
 playmates and schoolmates and men to- 
 gether knew that the broker possessed 
 emotions and aspirations above the usual
 
 IN THE EARLY CHRISTMAS MORNING. 63 
 
 six per cent. For instance, when " Cash " 
 contributed a good large sum to the church 
 fund, and when the same anonymous bene- 
 factor helped the poor, the Rev. Paul 
 Worthington, who distributed the money, 
 knew who "Cash" was. The people 
 did n't. 
 
 Mr. Newton was still staring into the 
 void filled by the widow's uncertainty when 
 the clergyman entered the office and said 
 something about the false economy of peo- 
 ple who preferred ruined carpets to the 
 expense of a door-mat. The banker did not 
 rise to the sarcasm of the occasion, nor did 
 he properly greet the invitation which fol- 
 lowed to go out on the sidewalk and indulge 
 in a snow-battle. 
 
 " You 're talking nonsense," was his com- 
 ment. 
 
 " My dear Samuel, nonsense is the wis- 
 dom of life. Without it existence would be 
 a dirge ; but with folly life is a song. Woe 
 be to the man who outgrows the spirit of 
 youth ! " 
 
 There was no response. 
 
 " I think I said ' woe,' " he added. 
 
 The banker, ignoring both the original 
 remark and the addition, arose and shut the 
 door that led to the other office. Then,
 
 64 IN THE EARLY CHRISTMAS MORNING. 
 
 drawing his chair closer, he said with solemn 
 and sudden confidence, 
 
 " Paul, I have proposed to the Widow 
 Stonington." 
 
 " How how did you do it ? " asked the 
 astonished visitor. 
 
 " It was a premeditated act." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Ml tell you all about it, but for Heaven's 
 sake don't laugh at me. I thought that the 
 strike down at the mill was bad enough, but 
 this waiting for an answer is the most serious 
 experience I ever passed through in all my 
 life. I 've been in love with her ever since 
 we went to school together, but it was in my 
 quiet way, and before I knew it she was 
 engaged to Dick Stonington. Now she has 
 been a widow four years, and you know as 
 well as I do that I 've been calling there off 
 and on three years. Well, this week I deter- 
 mined to settle it ; I 've had enough of 
 living alone. So last night I went to see 
 her. I entered the room as usual ; she 
 took the little rocker by the lamp-stand as 
 usual ; I sat down in the big arm-chair over 
 near the fireplace as usual. I thought I 'd 
 out with it at once, but it would n't come. 
 So I talked about the weather; we talked 
 about the weather ; we got to talking about
 
 IN THE EARLY CHRISTMAS MORNING. 65 
 
 the town and by and by we were discussing 
 your sermon of last Sunday, and when she 
 indorsed what you said about the strength 
 of human love, saving the world from abso- 
 lute loneliness, I grabbed hold of each arm 
 of the chair, and sitting bolt upright, with 
 every nerve in my body tingling like an 
 electric current, I said, ' Margaret, will you 
 be my wife ? ' " 
 
 " Go on, go on," exclaimed the clergyman, 
 when Mr. Newton paused. 
 
 "Well, it seemed to transfix her. Her 
 ball of zephyr rolled to the floor, and her 
 fancy-work got demoralized. I sat there 
 half scared to death and afraid to move- 
 She was just about to speak when Tom 
 that confounded boy of hers came in and 
 interrupted us. He stayed so long, and all 
 my feelings became so completely mixed, 
 that I simply had to get out of the room. 
 She followed me to the door and said she 
 supposed she would consider it, and would 
 let me know. I asked her if two days would 
 be long enough. She said that it would." 
 
 Mr. Newton paused, and then added, as 
 if it were a postscript, 
 
 " By the way, after I reached the walk she 
 called to me and asked if I had left my 
 umbrella. I said no, and came on." 
 5
 
 66 IN THE EARLY CHRISTMAS MORNING. 
 
 " You said no ! " exclaimed the clergyman. 
 " You are a disgrace to your sex. Somebody 
 ought to take you down to the mill-pond and 
 cut a hole in the ice and chuck you in." 
 
 " Now, what have I done ? " 
 
 " Done ? Why, that umbrella was a hint 
 for you to go back and get her answer, and 
 you walked off like like " 
 
 "I don't care if I did," interrupted the 
 banker. " I believe in full deliberation, 
 although," a pause, " this waiting is wear- 
 ing. Any way," another pause, "I gave 
 that boy of hers a ten-dollar sled this morn- 
 ing. It's pure extravagance, I know, but 
 don't you think it will help me ? " 
 
 "Samuel," said the clergyman, impres- 
 sively, " what a widow wants is not delibera- 
 tion or sleds, but sentiment." 
 
 " Well, how ought a man to propose ? " 
 
 " A man ought to propose with his heart, 
 and not with his intellect ; with his soul, and 
 not with his bank-account." 
 
 The insinuation nettled the banker. He 
 said something like " Bosh ! " and added : 
 "If you know so much about it, why don't 
 you discuss the question with Catherine 
 Downham ? " 
 
 " I '11 answer you seriously, although you 
 do not deserve it," he replied. " I 'm afraid.
 
 IN THE EARLY CHRISTMAS MORNING. 67 
 
 It 's worth living a life just to love such a 
 woman, just to hope that sometime she 
 may return that love. I have tried to bring 
 myself to a proposal, but what if she should 
 say ' no ' ? Is n't the hope of a ' yes ' better 
 than the risk of a rejection ? When uncer- 
 tainty is bliss, isn't it folly to have the 
 dream dispelled ? " 
 
 "You need a guardian," commented the 
 banker. " I thought you were a man of 
 sense." 
 
 They finally argued each other into gen- 
 eral dissatisfaction. The discussion might 
 have lasted all day had not Mr. Worthing- 
 ton ended it. 
 
 " I dropped in to see you," he said, " on an 
 altogether different matter, and I 'm glad I 
 did. We both need a fresh experience, and 
 I 've a plan that will do us good. I want you 
 to come to my house at midnight. Come 
 quietly, and don't let any one see you. 
 Never mind about that," he added, rising 
 and heading off all questions. " I '11 explain 
 everything to-night." 
 
 Promptly at midnight Samuel Newton 
 walked into the clergyman's study. 
 
 " On time, as usual," was the greeting he 
 received. " Sit down there and write some- 
 thing for me on this card."
 
 68 IN THE EARLY CHRISTMAS MORNING. 
 
 The banker took a seat as requested. 
 
 " Disguise your handwriting and write, 
 ' With all the happiness of a Merry Christ- 
 mas.' " He did so. 
 
 " If I 'm not trespassing," said Mr. New- 
 ton, " I 'd like to know what all this is 
 about." 
 
 " Certainly. I have had to make a new 
 plan of distributing our Christmas remem- 
 brances this year. You see, we have only 
 two or three people in our congregation 
 who are really in want, but there are a lot 
 more who go to other churches who need 
 food and the churches are not rich enough 
 to do anything for them ; so I 've decided to 
 use your three hundred dollars in seeing 
 that they are not forgotten." 
 
 " Good for you ! " exclaimed the banker, 
 with more enthusiasm than he usually 
 showed. " Your heart is bigger than your 
 creed, as it ought to be." 
 
 "And to do this," continued the clergy- 
 man, "you and I, with a big sleigh full of 
 things and Bucephalus for a reindeer, are 
 going to play Santa Claus." 
 
 "We are going to do what?" asked the 
 astonished banker. 
 
 " Now you can't back out. The town is 
 fast asleep ; the snow is deep ; we '11 make
 
 IN THE EARLY CHRISTMAS MORNING. 69 
 
 no noise, and those unfortunates will wake 
 up to-morrow morning to find Christmas 
 dinners on their front doorsteps. How do 
 you like it ? " 
 
 " I don't like it at all. It 's simply idiotic. 
 Suppose we should be found out ? " 
 
 " But we won't; " and the clergyman pro- 
 ceeded to prove with convincing earnestness 
 not only that discovery was improbable, but 
 also that it was Mr. Newton's Christian duty 
 to go. 
 
 And then they got to talking about their 
 boyhood days, about a certain Christmas 
 Eve, twenty-five years before, when the 
 youths of the town, led by two particularly 
 mischievous sinners, played sad tricks upon 
 the innocent inhabitants ; about the changes 
 that had taken place, and the strange coinci- 
 dence that had brought to the church as its 
 rector the man who, as a boy, had rung the 
 bell on that wintry night. They became 
 reminiscent and well, you know that men 
 are only boys of an older growth and the 
 silence and the snow and the novelty of it all 
 brought back in living distinctness the rec- 
 ollections of those days, and pretty soon 
 the two bachelors were as young and as 
 frisky as they had been a quarter of a 
 century before.
 
 70 IN THE EARLY CHRISTMAS MORNING. 
 
 At any rate, when one o'clock came the 
 sleigh emerged noiselessly from the clergy- 
 man's gate. The town was as quiet as 
 the night itself. No sound of revelry com- 
 promised its respectability. The clear stars 
 which looked brightly down saw nothing 
 but the universal whiteness of the streets 
 and the house-tops, and the two muffled 
 creatures snugly ensconced in a loaded 
 sleigh. 
 
 The clergyman drove. He reined to the 
 right and they were at once on their way 
 to the lower part of the town, where the 
 working-people lived. 
 
 " What a glorious night ! " he said. " How 
 eloquent is the stillness, the stillness of 
 sleep that knits up the ravelled edge of 
 care ; the precious oblivion that comes to 
 the two thousand souls in this town, and 
 buries their sufferings and their sorrows in 
 eight hours of priceless peace." 
 
 "That is very pretty," whispered Mr. 
 Newton in return, " but I 'd like to know 
 where you're going." 
 
 " We are on our way to the houses of the 
 strikers, down near the mill," replied the 
 clergyman. 
 
 "What ! " exclaimed Mr. Newton, "those 
 people? You know that those men have
 
 IN THE EARLY CHRISTMAS MORNING, ^l 
 
 stopped our work and shut down our busi- 
 ness, and do you mean to tell me that you 
 are spending my money to help them out, 
 to " 
 
 " Yes, I know all about it," he interrupted. 
 " We need n't discuss the strike here, but 
 twelve of those men have families, and those 
 families have nothing for a Christmas din- 
 ner. Back there in the sleigh are twelve 
 baskets, and those women and children 
 are not going hungry to-morrow if we can 
 help it." 
 
 " But " 
 
 " There are no buts about it. This is 
 Christmas. The strikers may be wrong, 
 but they have nothing ; you capitalists may 
 be right, but you have more than you need ; 
 aud all the right is never on one side. Sup- 
 pose you had to discuss the matter on an 
 empty stomach ; would you feel merciful 
 and charitable then ? " 
 
 " Right is right," interrupted Mr. Newton. 
 
 " And there is no higher right than the 
 right of man to expect humane considera- 
 tion from his fellow-man, the right of duty 
 and the right of charity. But here is one 
 of the houses. Samuel, you must do a gen- 
 erous act by getting out and putting one of 
 these baskets on the front doorstep."
 
 72 IN THE EARLY CHRISTMAS MORNING. 
 
 Samuel was backward about it, as a man 
 naturally would be in his position ; but after 
 rapidly discussing the situation he agreed to 
 do his part, only on the condition that he 
 should not get out where there were any 
 dogs; for if there was anything he feared 
 worse than death itself, it was a dog. 
 
 With this agreement, the work began and 
 progressed with signal success. Mr. New- 
 ton did his part, and as house after house 
 was visited, and his thoughts of the good 
 that might be done cheered and warmed 
 his heart, he almost forgot the grief of lost 
 dividends and became a Santa Claus in real 
 earnest. 
 
 From these houses they went to another 
 part of the town. There was in the air an 
 exhilaration that had its full effect, and both 
 men seemed to grow younger and livelier 
 than they had been in twenty years. They 
 cracked jokes in whispers, sang snatches of 
 songs very softly, and once or twice made 
 Bucephalus speed along under the mild 
 suggestion of a whip. 
 
 Finally they made their way to the hills 
 that overlooked the town. At the top was 
 a street which ended at the gate, and this 
 gate led to a house occupied by the family 
 of Miss Catherine Downham. It was a
 
 IN THE EARLY CHRISTMAS MORNING. 73 
 
 large residence, far back from the street, 
 at the rear of a long yard, and it was inde- 
 scribably picturesque and beautiful amid 
 the snow and quiet of the early Christmas 
 morning. Next to it was another house, 
 almost a counterpart in size and architec- 
 ture. In fact, Samuel Newton's father had 
 built both houses, and one of them he 
 had sold to Mr. Downham. The other had 
 been occupied by the banker until about 
 three months previously, when, tiring of the 
 loneliness, he had moved to quarters down- 
 town. 
 
 " Now, Samuel," said the clergyman, 
 " I 'm going to ask a very great favor of 
 you. I want you to take that basket back 
 there and put it on the Downham porch. 
 You can do it by going up your own lane 
 and reaching over the fence. Of course no 
 one will see you, but if you should be seen 
 you '11 be on your own premises, and nobody 
 can say anything ; and if anything is said 
 about the flowers I '11 own up to them. I 
 got out at all the dog-places ; the Down- 
 hams don't keep a dog, and you will be 
 entirely safe. Now, please do this, Samuel, 
 while I go down to the next street, where 
 I will leave the last package. Then we '11 
 be through and we '11 go home."
 
 74 IN THE EARLY CHRISTMAS MORNING. 
 
 Samuel at first objected, but gradually 
 weakened, and finally consented. 
 
 He made his way to the gate at the top of 
 the hill. He looked down the long stretch 
 of snow-covered street, gazed for a moment 
 at the two big houses, then carefully lifted 
 the latch, opened the gate, and crept like a 
 burglar toward his own house. When he 
 reached it, after what seemed to him a 
 longer time than he had ever taken before, 
 he leaned over the fence and deposited the 
 basket on the Downham porch. Relieved 
 of his burden of fear he turned to retrace 
 his steps. He had gone perhaps twenty 
 yards, and was congratulating himself on 
 his escape, when something happened. A 
 big dog, with a bark that sounded like the 
 roar of a lion, sprang forth from the shad- 
 ows of the Downham yard, and with one 
 leap cleared the fence that separated the 
 two properties. For a moment Mr. Newton 
 was paralyzed with fright, but an instant 
 afterward his presence of mind returned. 
 
 The tactics he adopted would have done 
 credit to an Indian fighter. He got over the 
 fence into the Downham yard. The dog 
 followed. Thus it became a contest of 
 fence-jumping between the man and the 
 animal. But as he neared the gate he ap-
 
 IN THE EARLY CHRISTMAS MORNING. 75 
 
 preciated the necessity of getting out of that 
 neighborhood. If discovered, his character 
 would be lost. So, resolving suddenly, as 
 all great men in emergencies do, he darted 
 like a frightened deer to the street, the dog 
 following in noisy earnestness. 
 
 There is sometimes innate depravity in 
 inanimate things, and the results of circum- 
 stances are beyond human providence. For 
 instance, the sled that Samuel Newton had 
 given the widow's son, James Stonington, 
 should have been anywhere else in the 
 world than at the top of a steep, slippery 
 hill, for collision with a respectable citizen 
 at the immoral hour of 2 A. M. But through 
 some unaccountable accident it was there, 
 and when Mr. Samuel Newton, aged forty 
 and chased by a savage animal, rushed pell- 
 mell athwart its path there were calamitous 
 consequences. He stumbled, and in his 
 wildly desperate effort to catch an impos- 
 sible equilibrium he found himself sprawled 
 upon something that immediately began to 
 move. Before he could roll off it was 
 gliding swiftly along, and before he could 
 think of what to do the first steep dip of 
 the hill had given it such a momentum that 
 the barking dog was left in the rear. The 
 poor victim, seeing his escape from the
 
 76 IN THE EARLY CHRISTMAS MORNING. 
 
 beast, thought little of what was to happen, 
 and clung tenaciously to the means of his 
 deliverance. 
 
 Down he went, like an unchecked train 
 on a steep grade, like a comet shooting 
 through space, like a wild something flying 
 from danger and not knowing how or where 
 to stop. 
 
 The Rev. Paul Worthington, waiting a 
 square below, saw the apparition as it flew 
 by. He was sure that he recognized the 
 figure. He called, but there was no answer. 
 He turned to follow, and as he did so he 
 heard a crash, and a moment afterward dis- 
 covered that an obstacle in the street had 
 sent the sled to pieces against a tree and 
 had rolled its passenger into a convenient 
 snow-bank. He ran as quickly as he could 
 to the spot, but before he reached there the 
 banker was on his feet. 
 
 " If you say one word," he almost hissed, 
 as he gathered his demoralized overcoat 
 about him, " we '11 have a fight right here 
 and now. Take me home ! " 
 
 And that was not all. 
 
 Thomas, the servant, had to rap three 
 times the next morning before Mr. Newton 
 answered. A little bundle and a note were 
 handed to him.
 
 IN THE EARLY CHRISTMAS MORNING. 77 
 
 "Mrs. Stonington's boy brought them," 
 said Thomas. 
 
 Mr. Newton took the bundle and un- 
 wrapped it. Mystery of mysteries ! It was 
 the muffler which he had worn. With 
 feverish haste he tore open the envelope 
 and read the note. As he did so, his face 
 looked like a battle-ground of emotions. He 
 sat down; then he got up and walked the 
 floor and whistled and frowned and looked 
 worried, surprised, disappointed, and grati- 
 fied in constantly varying succession. Finally 
 he remembered that he was standing in a 
 cold room without slippers or dressing-gown 
 to protect him from the pneumonia. He 
 hurried to get both, and in putting them on 
 recalled the fact that he had a stiff neck 
 and a lot of sore muscles. 
 
 " There 's no fool like an old fool," he 
 muttered, and then added, as if in reckless 
 gratification, " but I don't care." 
 
 Mr. Newton could move quickly when he 
 wanted to, and that Christmas morning, in 
 spite of his muscular stiffness, he was an 
 active man. Five minutes after he had 
 eaten his toast and drunk his tea he was 
 busily at work, and Thomas was hurrying 
 down the street on important missions. 
 Within a half-hour the servant returned,
 
 78 IN THE EARLY CHRISTMAS MORNING. 
 
 and was again sent forth, this time bearing 
 a large bundle and pulling a sled. 
 
 An hour later the Rev. Paul Worthington 
 walked in. 
 
 " How is Santa Glaus this morning ? " was 
 his greeting, " and how are the dears and 
 all the little reindeers ? " 
 
 The banker looked at him solemnly and 
 responded : 
 
 " Did it ever strike you that two can play 
 at the same game ? " 
 
 " It is a poor game when they cannot." 
 
 "Well, this morning you have sent the 
 best bunch of roses to Catherine Downham 
 that the hot-house around the corner could 
 furnish." 
 
 " I ? " 
 
 " Yes, you ; and on your card, on the one 
 you left here really, you should not leave 
 your cards around so is this inscription: 
 ' Not words but flowers shall express my 
 thoughts for you on this most blessed day.' 
 I found it in a novel." 
 
 " I don't understand." 
 
 " Read this. Her son Jimmy brought it 
 this morning." 
 
 The clergyman took the letter and read 
 as follows :
 
 IN THE EARLY CHRISTMAS MORNING. 79 
 
 CHRISTMAS MORNING. 
 DEAREST SAMUEL, I cannot tell you how 
 delighted I was to find the flowers you left on 
 the porch last night, " with all the happiness of 
 a Merry Christmas." Do you know, Samuel, 
 why I hesitated to answer you the other even- 
 ing ? I pardon the suspicion I was afraid 
 that you had crushed all sentiment out of your 
 life, and to me life without sentiment would be 
 a world without sunshine. But this morning, 
 when I received your remembrance, I was made 
 happier than words can describe. You must 
 come to dinner to-day, to receive my answer. 
 And you must also tell me how you discovered 
 that I was spending the night with Catherine 
 Downham. I thought I recognized your hand- 
 writing on the card, even though it was some- 
 what disguised, but I was not sure of it until 
 James brought in your scarf, which he found 
 out in the yard, and which I return with this. 
 I hope that the dog did not annoy you. James 
 forgot to fasten it up last night. It was so 
 romantic. With the fullest love, 
 Your 
 
 MARGERY. 
 
 The clergyman kept passing his hand 
 over his forehead as if trying to solve it 
 all. 
 
 " It 's really extraordinary," he said. " I 
 didn't know she was there honestly, I
 
 80 IN THE EARLY CHRISTMAS MORNING. 
 
 did n't. Those flowers were for Miss Down- 
 ham you know they were. I got you to 
 write the card so as to tease her about it 
 
 seriously, I did. But what 's done is 
 done, and I congratulate you." Then, 
 looking at the note again, he read, " ' Sen- 
 timent ' ! ' dog ' ! ' dinner ' ! ' romance ' ! 
 Superb, isn't it, Samuel?" 
 
 " Very fine," replied the banker, " but 
 there has got to be another engagement 
 before Christmas is passed. After you get 
 through your morning sermon you had just 
 as well go around to see Catherine and do 
 your duty like a man. The flowers are 
 there by this time, and if you try to deny 
 them I '11 break a Commandment and com- 
 promise your standing in this community. 
 You are not going to keep her single all her 
 life, just to get her money for the heathen 
 
 not while I am her cousin-in-law elect." 
 Rev. Paul Worthington had to hurry off 
 
 to church. As he stood in the pulpit that 
 Christmas morning he scarcely knew his 
 surroundings. All he saw was a young 
 woman, " divinely tall and most divinely 
 fair," with a delicate suffusing blush that 
 seemed to reflect the soft and glorious 
 beauty of a large bunch of roses which she 
 wore. Lovelier than ever she sat in the
 
 IN THE EARLY CHRISTMAS MORNING. 8l 
 
 corner of the pew, apparently as oblivious 
 to the small congregation as the preacher 
 himself. 
 
 How he struggled through the sermon he 
 never knew. What he said he never re- 
 membered. But the events after the ser- 
 vice will be as fresh to his dying day as the 
 recollection of the bishop, who officiated at 
 a double wedding which crowded the church 
 to overflowing and reclaimed two bachelors 
 from the evil of their ways. 
 
 Months afterward, when these two friends 
 sat talking it all over, they were solemn 
 and philosophical. Man's wisdom is largely 
 man's conceit, and his success in love or in 
 business adds to both. 
 
 " A good deed," said the clergyman, " is 
 the best investment a person can make ; it 
 always pays dividends. Remember how 
 easily a strike was settled after those Christ- 
 mas dinners, and how smoothly you have 
 gotten along since the new year began." 
 
 " And a foolish deed," said the banker, 
 " keeps coming back like a counterfeit coin. 
 I suppose I shall have to buy ten-dollar sleds 
 every winter; but, thank heaven! Jimmy 
 has given up the dog ! " 
 6
 
 THE COLONEL'S CALL. 
 
 VV ALK right in, Colonel. I am very 
 glad to see you." 
 
 " Suppose you close the door, Pendle. I 
 want to speak with you privately." 
 
 Pendle stepped briskly to the door and 
 closed it. His few steps showed a swift 
 physical movement altogether at variance 
 with the serene composure of his counte- 
 nance. If asked to compare him with any 
 other member of the animal kingdom, you 
 would have at once suggested the panther ; 
 but a moment afterward you would have 
 said, " the panther and something more." 
 His face was smooth, firm, immobile ; but 
 there was a nervousness in the eyes that 
 seemed to be trying to see things out of the 
 corners, and added to a certain air of expec- 
 tancy that the panther has, there was a cer- 
 tain ambitiousness with it all that the 
 panther has n't. You would n't have trusted 
 him very far, and you would n't have liked
 
 THE COLONEL'S CALL. 83 
 
 him very much ; but you would have had 
 more respect for his personality than to 
 have classed him with the usual mediocrities 
 who are in practical politics. 
 
 The other man was older and altogether 
 different. He walked with the aid of a cane, 
 and his solid manly shoulders and erect head 
 looked military. He was tall, handsome, 
 and grave, and his face was of the square 
 honest kind, with eyes that seemed to reflect 
 a rugged old soul that had known the world 
 without having been soiled by any of its 
 meanness. His voice fitted his appearance. 
 It was a conclusive voice, and it sent its 
 words straight to its mark. 
 
 There was nothing in the office to distin- 
 guish it, except, perhaps, a certain feeling 
 that the furniture was standing around in a 
 way that made it appear that it was not alto- 
 gether at home. There was a large desk, 
 and behind this Pendle sat after his visitor 
 had found a seat in the leather-covered office- 
 chair. 
 
 " I am at your service," said the politician. 
 
 " I came to see you in reference to the 
 election in our ward," said the older man. 
 " Entirely against my wishes and commands, 
 my boy " the boy was thirty-five " has 
 accepted the nomination on the reform
 
 84 THE COLONEL'S CALL. 
 
 ticket. He did it from conscientious con- 
 sideration of what he conceived to be his 
 duty as a citizen, and I honor him for his 
 scruples and regret his judgment. But, as 
 he has taken the step, I want to see him 
 succeed, and I have therefore come to see 
 you on my own responsibility." 
 
 A suggestion of a smile ran around Pen- 
 die's mouth as he said, " I would like to aid 
 you, Colonel, but you know I am on the 
 other side of the fence." 
 
 The Colonel apparently did not notice the 
 interruption, and went on : " You have placed 
 against him on your ticket a man without 
 any character whatever, one of these little 
 scoundrels who rent out their souls for a few 
 years of cheap notoriety, a person whose 
 vote belongs to you, and who is, therefore, 
 of importance to you personally." 
 
 With all his coolness, Pendle flushed. He 
 was about to speak, but the Colonel con- 
 tinued, 
 
 " There are enough respectable votes in 
 that ward to elect my son, enough will be 
 cast to elect him ; and the only way to 
 defeat him is in the manner which you 
 understand better than I can tell you. Now 
 my visit here is to inform you that if you 
 attempt any business of this sort, I shall
 
 THE COLONEL'S CALL. 85 
 
 be put to the trouble of demanding a 
 settlement." 
 
 Pendle took up a paper-knife and tapped 
 it a moment in his open hand. Then he 
 spoke, his flush having given way to paleness. 
 " Colonel Hall," he said, " passing over the 
 indelicacy of your action in coming to this 
 office and speaking as you have done, I wish 
 you to know that this is a party matter, and 
 not a personal matter. McGurke was regu- 
 larly nominated by the party, and he will be 
 supported by the resources of the party 
 organization. The fact that I am at the 
 head of that party organization, regularly 
 placed there, I do not consider a dishonor, 
 and I certainly shall not be recreant to the 
 trust that has been confided in me." 
 
 " I did not come here to discuss evasions 
 or organizations or glittering generalities ; I 
 came to talk to you." And the Colonel 
 raised his finger, and slowly pointed it at 
 Pendle as he emphasized the word. " I 
 know you, perhaps, better than you know 
 yourself. You have succeeded wonderfully 
 well in this city, because you have ability 
 very great ability." Pendle bowed slightly, 
 and the Colonel resumed : " Yes, very great 
 ability, as a shrewd, exhaustless, persistent 
 manipulator. I admire it in you, because 
 it 's your sole stock in trade."
 
 86 THE COLONEL'S CALL. 
 
 " Colonel Hall," began Pendle. 
 
 " Sit still, Pendle, and let me do the talk- 
 ing. You will perhaps recall a few incidents 
 from the past. If your memory is good, you 
 will recollect that you hung around my com- 
 mand for awhile, and that your victories 
 were confined exclusively to the commissary 
 department. You were a coward then, and 
 you are a coward now, and the only reason 
 that you and your gang boss and rob this 
 town as you do is that the people are bigger 
 cowards than you are. Some day they will 
 wake up to their duty, and will wonder why 
 they stood you so long; but in the mean 
 while you are piling up wealth that does not 
 belong to you, and are getting the impression 
 that you are invincible." 
 
 " Colonel Hall, I wish you to understand 
 that I will not be insulted in my own office ! " 
 exclaimed the cool man, losing his coolness. 
 
 "It's not insult, Pendle; it's truth. For 
 five hard years I did some fighting to help 
 save the institutions which you are disgrac- 
 ing, and I have the right to speak my mind. 
 I am not the sort of person to go into politics 
 and make speeches and get cheated out of 
 my rights, because I despise its tricks and its 
 lies and its lowness. I prefer to deal with 
 you direct, and that is why I came. You
 
 THE COLONEL'S CALL. 87 
 
 will, therefore, understand that if you send 
 any of your gang of repeaters or bribers or 
 scoundrels up in our ward to count in Mc- 
 Gurke, you will be obliged to answer to me 
 personally ; and, old as I am, I will give you 
 a thrashing that will make up not only for 
 the present, but also for some of those dere- 
 lictions of the sixties. That is all, Pendle, 
 and I will say good-morning." 
 
 Pendle did not reply. The colonel arose 
 and with head and shoulders erect marched 
 out of the room. His big cane seemed to 
 hit the floor with an increased force and 
 he passed down the steps and on up the 
 street with some of the same martial vigor 
 of the days when he led his boys to the 
 front of the fight. 
 
 Pendle had picked up a cigar which he 
 failed to light and he chewed it more sav- 
 agely than usual. Then he threw his head 
 back and looked steadily at the ceiling. 
 Finally he moved forward and tapped a 
 bell. The clerk entered as quietly and as 
 humbly as if in the presence of majesty 
 itself. 
 
 " Go find Roster and tell him to come 
 here at once. He 's probably at McCuddy's 
 in the back part of the saloon." 
 
 Within twenty minutes Roster appeared.
 
 88 THE COLONEL'S CALL. 
 
 " Sit down," said Pendle. " I have been 
 looking over the city again, and I have 
 decided to let Andy McGurke take care 
 of himself. Save your crowd for the next 
 ward to help Stine." 
 
 " But say," interrupted Roster, " if we 
 don't give McGurke a boost he won't be 
 in it." 
 
 " McGurke must look out for himself," 
 said the boss, decisively. " We Ve done 
 enough for him already, and if he kicks 
 we '11 see that the saloons he owns don't 
 get licenses. But look here, Roster, keep 
 all this mum until McGurke pays his 
 assessment." 
 
 " All right," replied the heeler, meekly ; 
 " but it 's tough on Andy." 
 
 When he went out Pendle took a walk 
 around the room. Finally he paused at a 
 window, and as he looked out on the perfect 
 October day he said, with something of a 
 smile, 
 
 " I am very much afraid that if there were 
 more Colonel Halls in this town, there would 
 be a great deal less of Pendle."
 
 THE NOMINATION. 
 
 DAVID GAD and his good wife Ruth 
 were sitting in the easy chairs resting after 
 the day's work. He had closed the store at 
 nine o'clock. It was a little cool for Septem- 
 ber and the windows were down. The light 
 was turned low, for David and Ruth were 
 economical, even in the matter of coal oil. 
 
 People said that David was a born success. 
 They could not understand sometimes how 
 it was so, because his father never had the 
 gift, but they were not able to deny facts, 
 which facts were that David was making 
 money and was enjoying a solid reputation 
 among his neighbors. When he started out 
 most of them laughed at him ; but the ones 
 who laughed loudest now generally loafed 
 the longest around his store. His marriage 
 to Ruth Bland, daughter of old Jonathan 
 Bland, helped him along. 
 
 Ruth was as practical in her ways as 
 David, and such a useless expense of time
 
 90 THE NOMINATION. 
 
 and money as a wedding journey did not 
 enter their thoughts. They went at once to 
 their little home. David's old friend, John, 
 was with them as clerk, and a very good one 
 he was. Ten years went by and made David 
 a rugged, substantial man. As he sat in the 
 big rocker it was easy to see that he was a 
 person of more than ordinary force. He was 
 one of the Americans who succeed, a man of 
 more mental activity than speech, a cautious, 
 shrewd, far-seeing man, at least this was 
 Colonel Short's description, and he, being a 
 politician, was a good judge of men or he 
 would not have been a successful politician. 
 
 " David," said Ruth, " what is this talk 
 about you and the sheriff's office ? " 
 
 He looked up quickly and shifted his posi- 
 tion before replying. " Where did you hear 
 that nonsense ? " he asked. 
 
 " All the folks are talking about it. I 
 heard some men discussing it while you were 
 out of the store to-day, and saying that 
 Colonel Short had been to see you about it. 
 The people seem to think you '11 make a 
 mighty good man for the place." 
 
 David smiled in a sober kind of way, and 
 nursed his knees with his two hands. Pres- 
 ently he looked up, and said : " Ruth, a man 
 of convictions should take an interest in
 
 THE NOMINATION. 91 
 
 politics for the good of the party which 
 represents his principles, and not for any 
 ambition which merely represents his own 
 pride. I have voted the ticket and done 
 some work for it, not with the hope of any 
 office, but because my conscience and my 
 judgment dictated that course. If people 
 misconstrue my motives, it is very wrong." 
 
 " But, David, if they should give you the 
 office " 
 
 "Yes, if they should give me an office, 
 what then? Four years of laziness, and 
 afterward a return home to find our business 
 all gone, or taken up by some one else. No, 
 Ruth, you and I have had too hard a time 
 building up this trade to have it ruined by 
 politics. Let us keep on in our course, for 
 we know not what a change might bring 
 forth." 
 
 Ruth was silent for a while. The mention 
 of the possible honor had aroused a quiet 
 but unexpressed ambition for town life, had 
 suggested the possibility of some of that 
 change which every woman from Eve down 
 has always secretly longed for. But David's 
 practical words had brought out her common- 
 sense, and shoved the ambition back into the 
 closet of her heart. She closed the door 
 upon it and sighed.
 
 92 THE NOMINATION. 
 
 " I guess you 're right. You 'most always 
 are. But who do you think they '11 take in 
 your place?" 
 
 " I am for Major Powderdry," said David, 
 with considerable emphasis. 
 
 Mrs. Gad was greatly astonished. " Major 
 Powderdry ! " she exclaimed. " Why, good- 
 ness gracious, David ! he has n't done a thing 
 in his life except to run for office and run into 
 debt." 
 
 "That's just it, Ruth. The good Lord 
 has laid out for us certain duties in this 
 world. A man may sometimes get away 
 from his path, and wander over the field ; 
 but he always has a kind of an idea of what 
 he is living for, and he is pretty apt to hit 
 the road while he is tramping around. Now 
 Major Powderdry's business is running for 
 office. It don't pay much, but he sticks to 
 it. Mine is running a store. I 've got along 
 all right in the store, because the people have 
 encouraged me. What the major wants is 
 more encouragement. So let him have it, I 
 say, and let us all elect him. Then, too 
 but of course you need n't mention it if he 
 gets through, he may pay us that little bill 
 he owes us." 
 
 " Well, David, you certainly look at things 
 with both eyes," said Ruth, with a decision
 
 THE NOMINATION. 93 
 
 that had in it a small undertone of admi- 
 ration. 
 
 " Of course I do, Ruth, and when they fail to 
 see what 's what, I know two other eyes that 
 are mighty pert about finding the right side." 
 
 Ruth smiled, and felt quite happy. It 
 was n't often that they paid compliments to 
 each other. 
 
 " Ruth," said David, after a pause, " if the 
 folks talk any more to you about me, just 
 say that David is too busy attending to the 
 store to go running across the whole county 
 for an office, and that he votes the ticket for 
 his convictions and not for rewards, and that 
 he has said that Major Powderdry would 
 make a good man for the place. Don't go 
 out of your way to say this, but if anybody 
 makes you talk, why, just put it to 'em 
 straight and earnest like; if you want to, 
 you might add something about your not 
 caring for me to give up a good business for 
 any such foolishness, and so forth and so 
 forth." 
 
 Ruth said she would, and as ten o'clock 
 had arrived, they locked up the house and 
 went to bed. But before going to sleep 
 David added, " And, Ruth, you might say 
 that the talk Colonel Short and I had was 
 on private business."
 
 94 THE NOMINATION. 
 
 It did not require an age for anything to 
 get over the district. News was scarce in 
 Sussex. 
 
 Somebody had mentioned David Gad's 
 name for the shrievalty. It met with favor. 
 It was time the district was getting the office. 
 David was a good party man, a reliable, con- 
 servative citizen, and a neighbor who was 
 popular. The people talked quietly at first, 
 but after it was known that David and 
 Colonel Short had had a long talk, the dis- 
 cussion took a wider range. As it became 
 more public it aroused a factional opposi- 
 tion, led by the voluble and oratorical Major 
 Powderdry, a talkative upholder of party 
 principles, and an inveterate seeker for a 
 place on the ticket. David Gad said nothing, 
 and attended to business. 
 
 The day after their little talk, Ruth left 
 David at the store, and made a few visits. 
 The matter of the office came up for discus- 
 sion everywhere she went. She was not 
 slow in making prompt and decidedly em- 
 phatic comments. 
 
 " Yes," said she, " I have heard that they 
 are talking about David; but I reckon it's 
 a lot of breath wasted. He 's been a-work- 
 ing going on ten years building up his store, 
 and he ain't such a goose as to throw away
 
 THE NOMINATION. 95 
 
 his business for an office. That talk he had 
 with Colonel Short was about a private 
 matter. There ain't much money in poli- 
 tics, and as for our part, we 'd rather have 
 what we 've got than go to trying a change. 
 David don't vote the ticket expecting to be 
 paid for it ; he 's not that kind. As far as 
 I 'm concerned, I 'm glad of it, for it 's not 
 everywhere you can get good neighbors. 
 What 's more, David 's looked upon as a 
 good man now, while if he was to go into 
 politics, goodness only knows what they 'd 
 say against him. And David ain't one that 
 takes such things easy. He told me no later 
 than last night that he was in favor of Major 
 Powderdry. ' If our district is to have it,' 
 said he, ' why, give it to Major Powderdry.' " 
 
 The good wives that good wife Ruth talked 
 to in the afternoon told it to their good hus- 
 bands at supper, and before bedtime it was 
 generally known that David Gad was for 
 Major Powderdry. 
 
 The major heard it at first with incredul- 
 ity, and then with joy. He knew David 
 Gad's endorsement would have great weight 
 with the people. " I have always liked 
 David," he said. " He is a man of business, 
 a man of honor, and a credit to this neigh- 
 borhood. I have watched him since he was
 
 90 THE NOMINATION. 
 
 a boy, and each year has increased my good 
 opinion of him. When the people talked 
 about his name I opposed it, because I knew 
 that it would only bother him." 
 
 The major talked in this strain so as to 
 ease his conscience and convince himself of 
 what he never believed. That was a pecu- 
 liarity of his oratory as well as of his con- 
 versation. He could talk himself into any 
 belief, while the cold and listless crowd 
 stood by and doubted. 
 
 The next day he dropped in at the cross- 
 roads store. He found Mr. Gad in an un- 
 employed interval, and took possession of it 
 with voluble but diplomatic promptness. 
 He complimented the weather, the store and 
 David, and asked, with solicitous earnest- 
 ness, for the health of Mrs. Gad, and then 
 plunged boldly into the purpose of his call. 
 
 " I hear," said he, lowering his voice, 
 " that you have stated that you will endorse 
 me for sheriff." 
 
 David took it in a matter-of-fact way, 
 although he secretly enjoyed the major's 
 polite circumlocution. 
 
 " Yes, major," he said, with business blunt- 
 ness ; " I 'm for you. You ought to have 
 it. This district ought to have it. And the 
 way for us to get it is to get it."
 
 THE NOMINATION. 97 
 
 This roused the major's oratory. "Well 
 said, Mr. Gad, nobly said. In the distribu- 
 tion of the legitimate rewards of the party, 
 the just and equitable deserts of noble old 
 Sussex have not been recognized. It will 
 be a proud privilege for me to lead in the 
 demand for this recognition, and I ask you, 
 sir, that you will allow your name to be used 
 on the delegation to the convention as the 
 head of that delegation, sir ? " 
 
 The major said this with great personal 
 applause, and David seemed very much 
 impressed by it. But the merchant was 
 doubtful. He rubbed his chin in a medita- 
 tive way, and took some time to respond. 
 
 " Now, major, I want to keep out of 
 politics." 
 
 " Do not say that, Mr. Gad. It is upon 
 such men as you upon the yeomanry of 
 the party, if I may say so that the selec- 
 tion of good standard-bearers and the per- 
 petuity of free institutions must depend. 
 You owe it to your district, sir, to be a 
 member of that convention." 
 
 David paused again ; he paused so long 
 that the major walked back and forth 
 uneasily. 
 
 " Well, since you put it in that way, of 
 course I guess I '11 have to think about it," 
 7
 
 y THE NOMINATION. 
 
 said the Sphynx at last. " But arrange it 
 as quietly as you can." 
 
 A light of joy illuminated the face of 
 Major Powderdry. He grasped Mr. Gad's 
 hand and thanked him, not once, but count- 
 less times. Presently the emotional equilib- 
 rium was restored, and David announced 
 that the next day he was going to start 
 through the county on a business trip. He 
 had the agency for a new machine, and he 
 had been directed to place its sale in differ- 
 ent stores of that territory. " I '11 see how 
 things look in politics, and put in as many 
 good words for you as I can." 
 
 The interview was brought to an end by 
 the entrance of a family party in search of 
 shoes and molasses. Major Powderdry 
 went home with a happy heart. He was 
 already beginning to enjoy the office and 
 its perquisites the perquisites mainly. 
 
 Mr. Gad's business trip occupied three 
 days. He enjoyed it. Being well-known 
 and well-esteemed, it was agreeable to meet 
 people and talk with them. Besides, he sold 
 more machines than he expected. When 
 he arrived home the delegation had been 
 agreed upon, and he had been placed at the 
 head of it by the unanimous desire of his 
 colleagues.
 
 THE NOMINATION. 99 
 
 He reached the store just before twilight, 
 and he had scarcely finished his supper 
 before Major Hamilton Powderdry called. 
 The major was more than anxious to hear 
 the results of the journey. 
 
 " I am glad to see you back, Mr. Gad 
 very glad ; and I hope you are the messen- 
 ger of good news." 
 
 " Well, yes, major ; I did remarkably well 
 with the machines, a great deal better 
 than I expected." 
 
 " I congratulate you, sir I congratulate 
 you most sincerely. How did you find the 
 political complexion ? Was it favorable ? " 
 
 " Oh, politics ? Oh, yes ! So I remem- 
 ber. Of course, major, I was mainly on 
 business, but in the demands of that busi- 
 ness I did not forget you. I did not forget 
 our district." 
 
 The major rubbed his hands and smiled. 
 " Thank you, Mr. Gad thank you. What 
 what did you hear ? " 
 
 " Well, I guess I better give you an item- 
 ized account, a bill of particulars, so to 
 speak." 
 
 The major was greatly pleased. 
 
 " First, I went to Forktown. I found that 
 they are going to send a solid delegation 
 down for Boggs. They were quite earnest
 
 100 THE NOMINATION. 
 
 about it; said that their district ought to 
 have the nomination, and that Colonel Short 
 had half promised it to them, and that they 
 were going in to win. Of course it was n't 
 much use to talk against such feeling as that, 
 although I did tell them that in Major Pow- 
 derdry, Sussex had a candidate that she was 
 proud of." 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Gad, thank you. We '11 
 soon down Boggs. Their talk about Short's 
 support is nothing but a bluff. How about 
 Bethel?" 
 
 " Well, Bethel 's got the fever too. They 
 say they hain't had the sheriff for twenty 
 years, and that they are going to pull for it 
 this time, or break the traces. They 're put- 
 ting up young Jones, and he 's working like 
 a beaver. I slipped in a few words for you, 
 major, but they brought up the argument 
 that Sussex had it sixteen years ago, while 
 it's been twenty years since it went to 
 Bethel." 
 
 The major uncrossed his legs, and nodded 
 his head. " That 's all right," said he. " I 
 know Jones. He's active, but that's all. 
 We '11 circumvent him." 
 
 " From Bethel I went on down to Draw- 
 bridge and Forks. They are not far apart, 
 you know. I found out that they had
 
 THE NOMINATION. IOI 
 
 nobody in particular that they wanted, but 
 Jones had sent down some missionaries and 
 captured Drawbridge, and Boggs' men were 
 at work at Forks. There is where I did 
 some talking. I told them of our demands, 
 of our candidate, of you, major, and your 
 long service to the party. I said : ' Gentle- 
 men, here is a fine man and an esteemed 
 citizen, who has sacrificed time and effort in 
 campaign work, who has fought in the front 
 ranks, who has never flagged or proven 
 recreant to his duty. He is the man we 
 offer you, and we ask that you help us to 
 nominate him.' " 
 
 " Thank you thank you ! Did you con- 
 vince them of the wisdom of that course ? " 
 
 " Not quite. They would n't commit them- 
 selves. So, to keep them from going to 
 Boggs or Jones, I persuaded them to put up 
 their own candidate. ' If it 's to be a grab 
 game,' I said, ' why don't you take a hand ? ' 
 Then I left, and went on down to the lower 
 districts, where they don't care who gets the 
 nomination, for the good and sufficient rea- 
 son that they have had it for the last three 
 times. However, I came back by Draw- 
 bridge and Forks to-day, and I found that 
 they had put up their men, Hanson for 
 Drawbridge and Withers for Forks."
 
 102 THE NOMINATION. 
 
 The major's bright face seemed clouded. 
 "Do you think," he asked, "that it was 
 wise to bring two more men into the field ? 
 Won't it complicate matters ? " 
 
 " Well, major, I 'm a business man, and I 
 look at it in a business way. I argued that 
 if those two districts were disposed to go 
 against us, the best way would be to make 
 them fight each other as well as ourselves. 
 It takes them away from Boggs and Jones. 
 Now we have eight districts, and no nomi- 
 nation can be made until one of the five 
 breaks to some other candidate. You stand 
 well, major, and your genius must make a 
 combination and win. You can do it, can't 
 you ? " 
 
 When the major saw it in that light he 
 was radiant. " Why, David," he exclaimed, 
 growing more familiar, "you are a Napoleon 
 of politics. It's a great arrangement. I 
 know Hanson and I know Withers. I '11 
 see them ; I '11 deal with them ; and when 
 the convention opens, we '11 give Boggs and 
 Jones the biggest surprise party they ever 
 saw." 
 
 This was Saturday. The convention met 
 on the following Tuesday. The interval 
 was fully employed. Everybody talked poli- 
 tics. The major led. He was exhaustless.
 
 THE NOMINATION. IO3 
 
 Hope beamed on his smiling countenance 
 like sunshine on a morning-glory. 
 
 " Well, I never saw such a sight in all 
 my born days," said Mrs. Gad. " The major 
 acts as if he 'd been elected and got all the 
 offices in the State." 
 
 " Yes," said David, " the major is enthu- 
 siastic. He has a sanguine temperament." 
 
 "He used to talk against you so. Now 
 he 's praising you to the skies. There ain't 
 any word too high or too big for you. It 's 
 a strange thing, this politics." 
 
 "Very strange, very strange," replied 
 David, nodding his head. " It shows the 
 changeableness of human nature, Ruth, the 
 instability of character. If I had run for 
 this office in an open way, as the folks 
 wanted me to, the major would have been 
 going around abusing me and getting up his 
 movements against me, and I guess he 'd 
 come near downing me. But now I am one 
 of his delegates, and he is as sweet as a 
 hogshead of molasses. How much better it 
 is, Ruth, to have the friendship of every- 
 body, even though we have to put ambition 
 aside ! " 
 
 The delegates from Sussex met at the 
 cross-roads and started to town bright and 
 early. David accepted his importance as
 
 104 THE NOMINATION. 
 
 the head member of the delegation modestly. 
 Major Powderdry was gorgeous in a new 
 high hat and an enlarged vocabulary. 
 
 " David," he said, with confidential earn- 
 estness, "you hold the delegates solid. I'm 
 an old hand at this business, you know, and 
 if you stick together while I do the work 
 and pull the wires, we '11 win as sure as the 
 sun will shine." 
 
 " That's it, major," he answered. " We '11 
 depend on you. I was never in a convention 
 but twice before, you know, and both times 
 they had the ticket made out, and all we had 
 to do was to vote it through. This business 
 is a little new to us, and I guess it '11 be a 
 heap more exciting. Just let me say one 
 word : don't let 'em bully you. Stick right 
 up to it, and stay in the field as long as you 
 can." 
 
 This warning aroused the major's latent 
 pugnacity. " David," he said, " I 'm in this 
 fight to win, and I '11 stay at the front till the 
 battle is over and the cows come home." 
 
 So, with discussion and warning, and ad- 
 vice and suggestion the delegates proceeded. 
 The temperature of their determination rose 
 steadily, and by the time they reached town 
 they were ready to march into the conven- 
 tion and demand the nomination for sheriff 
 as the right of Sussex District.
 
 THE NOMINATION. 105 
 
 But they ran into other determined bands. 
 With the other four candidates in the field 
 the situation was lively. The advocates of 
 each man were importunate and vociferous. 
 Into the arena the statesmen from Sussex, 
 led by the intrepid Powderdry, advanced 
 with argument and inquiry. 
 
 The Quantico County court-house, where 
 the convention met, was a sombre building 
 of brick, fronted by a large square. Out- 
 doors and in-doors the groups were discuss- 
 ing and canvassing. Opposite the square 
 was the law office of Colonel Short. To 
 and from that place flowed steady streams 
 of delegates. Colonel Short was the county 
 leader the " boss." Some came from his 
 office in smiles, some in frowns, and some in 
 doubt. 
 
 David was button-holing a man from a 
 lower district when the major touched him 
 on the shoulder. 
 
 " I 've been to see Short," whispered he, 
 " I talked plainly to him, as a man with my 
 strength should. I told him I had the united 
 support of Sussex District, and that our dis- 
 trict was entitled to the nomination. ' You 're 
 probably right, major,' said he ; ' but there 
 are four other gentlemen from four other 
 districts who say the same thing, and I don't
 
 106 THE NOMINATION. 
 
 see how we 're going to settle it except by 
 fighting it out. Whoever wins, we '11 get a 
 good sheriff, and I wish you luck ! ' Now, 
 David, what is there in that? It looks 
 stormy. Do you think we '11 get through ? " 
 
 " Well, major, we 're doing all we can, and 
 trusting to you to uphold the rights of our 
 district." 
 
 The major's backbone stiffened, and he 
 proceeded a second time to work. He saw 
 everybody, made a hundred indefinite prom- 
 ises, and attempted every coalition that a 
 man of twenty-five years of political failure 
 could invent. 
 
 He was still at it when the hour for the 
 assembling of the convention arrived. The 
 delegates were in their seats, too much im- 
 pressed by their importance to say much. 
 The crowds struggled in and filled the 
 benches of the court-room. A buzz of spec- 
 ulation and expectation arose to the ceiling 
 and resounded between the walls. Occa- 
 sionally a laugh interrupted the monotonous 
 hum, or a pompous citizen came in, and 
 talked loud enough to make himself heard 
 above the noise. 
 
 A clapping of hands and a few thuds of 
 heavy boots on the floor announced the 
 approach of the chairman of the County
 
 THE NOMINATION. IO7 
 
 Committee. He mounted the rostrum, 
 called the body to order, and said a few 
 words which resulted in more clapping of 
 hands and more boot thuds. With one or 
 two soaring exploits in oratory, the election 
 of the officers of the convention, the appoint- 
 ment of the committees, and the necessary 
 preliminaries were arranged. 
 
 There was a recess for dinner. The inter- 
 val was a time of heroic effort on the part of 
 Major Powderdry and his competitors; but 
 the more they worked the greater their doubt 
 grew. 
 
 " David," whispered the major again, 
 rather more agitated than before, " I 'm 
 afraid it 's a case of every man standing 
 pat, and staying in till the light goes out." 
 
 David did not exactly grasp the simile, 
 but he told the major to remain firm. 
 
 The session opened. There were more 
 speeches and more enthusiasm, and then 
 the real work began. There was not much 
 delay in the first nominations, but when 
 the sheriff was reached a general movement 
 seized the delegates and the on-lookers. 
 They expected something worth seeing. 
 But just as they got fixed for the excite- 
 ment, a delegate arose and moved that the 
 nomination for sheriff be postponed until
 
 108 THE NOMINATION. 
 
 the rest of the ticket was agreed upon. 
 This caused a little fight, but it ended in 
 the desired postponement. 
 
 In an hour's time the ticket was complete 
 with the exception of the sheriff. That 
 contest opened with great earnestness. For 
 the purpose of saving time the nomination 
 speeches were brief and formal. 
 
 The voting began. Five districts had 
 their candidates. The three other dis- 
 tricts distributed their votes with impartial 
 favor. Ballot after ballot was cast without 
 an approach to a result. The feeling be- 
 came intensified. Two hours went by, and 
 still there was no nomination. The districts 
 were sticking to their men, and a nomination 
 was impossible unless one of them broke. 
 Supper-time drew near. Some delegates 
 began to get hungry. All wanted to go 
 home. But their earnestness triumphed 
 over appetite. A new ballot disclosed no 
 change. Major Powderdry's hopefulness 
 was oozing out, but he was sticking like 
 grim death. Suddenly some one whispered 
 in his ear, " Major, Colonel Short wants to 
 see you in the jury-room." 
 
 A great hope surged through the major's 
 soul, and he tiptoed to the door, and in a 
 minute was in the presence of the party 
 dictator.
 
 THE NOMINATION. IOQ 
 
 " Major," said the colonel, " what are you 
 going to do ? " 
 
 " Stick," he answered. 
 
 " Listen to me a minute. We Ve got a 
 good ticket, and we 've got a tough fight 
 ahead. You five men in there are getting 
 so hot against one another that not one of 
 you can possibly win. You can't ; they can't. 
 Now, why not name the man ? " 
 
 " Who ? " 
 
 " Who is your choice ? " 
 
 " David Gad would be a good man, but " 
 
 " Well ? " 
 
 " He won't take it." 
 
 " Get him out of the room, and give us 
 time to nominate him, and he'll have to 
 take it." 
 
 The major saw the situation. He paused. 
 He considered. He could not be nomina- 
 ted, why not nominate ? He could not 
 be Edmond, why not Warwick ? Colonel 
 Short argued. The major decided. He 
 would do it. Rushing to the court-room he 
 got David Gad and brought him to Short. 
 Then telling him to stay there till called, 
 he rushed back. Everybody left the jury- 
 room to watch the convention, except Short 
 and Gad. At the furthest window they whis- 
 pered earnestly.
 
 110 THE NOMINATION. 
 
 A new ballot was about to begin, when, 
 at the request of Major Powderdry, one 
 of Colonel Short's smartest lieutenants 
 young Carr arose and asked permission 
 to say a word. There was some grum- 
 bling, but a vociferous " Ay ! " yielded him 
 the privilege. He mounted the platform: 
 
 MR. CHAIRMAN AND GENTLEMEN, We 
 are going to win. (Applause.) We have got a 
 good ticket. (Applause.) Harmony is thick 
 and beautiful around here. (Smiles.) The only 
 discordant note is a little difference of opinion 
 about the sheriff. (Laughter.) We are bur- 
 dened with five good men, embarrassed with 
 riches. My fellow delegates from this district 
 and myself have voted for every one of them 
 on the various ballots, and to save our lives 
 we can't say which is the best man. (Applause 
 and laughter.) We'd like to nominate you all. 
 (More laughter.) But it would be like putting 
 too much sauce on the apple-dumpling ; it would 
 make the ticket too rich. (More laughter and 
 applause.) Now I want to get home some time 
 to-night. So do you. We want to leave with 
 the knowledge that we have done our work. 
 We don't want to carry away any hard feel- 
 ings. It is for that purpose that I arise here 
 on behalf of several districts, including our 
 own, to suggest a name that will be endorsed 
 by every man in this convention, by the whole
 
 THE NOMINATION. Ill 
 
 county, that will add strength to the ticket and 
 give enthusiasm to the party. I can pay this 
 name no higher tribute than to say that it is 
 the peer of the gentlemen who are now before 
 this convention. (Applause.) In the interest 
 of harmony, in the assurance of victory, and 
 in the hope of getting my supper before 
 breakfast, I nominate David Gad, of Sussex 
 District." 
 
 The surprise was complete. The applause 
 began slowly ; then it took a jump ; and 
 finally it swept through the room and 
 carried everything before it. It gained 
 momentum when it was whispered around 
 that David had been purposely gotten out 
 of the room. Major Powderdry led in the 
 enthusiasm. The nomination was quickly 
 seconded. A ballot began. Before it was 
 half taken, the nomination was made. A 
 great howl went up. 
 
 In the jury-room Colonel Short looked at 
 David and remarked, " It seems to be all 
 right." 
 
 As David smiled in reply, the door was 
 burst open, and in rushed Major Powder- 
 dry, his face beatified with unanimous joy, 
 his arms in ecstatic gesture, his coat tails 
 flying with nervous enthusiasm, and his 
 whole being full of the oliss of victory 
 for his district.
 
 112 THE NOMINATION. 
 
 He took David, dragged him before the 
 convention, and shouted, " Hurrah for Sus- 
 sex and our next sheriff ! " 
 
 As the cheers went up, David asked 
 what it all meant. He was the idealization 
 of innocent astonishment. The delegates 
 seemed to enjoy it. 
 
 And so did Colonel Short, who was stand- 
 ing in the jury-room door and looking smil- 
 ingly on. He was thinking of the possible 
 future in politics for a man of David Gad's 
 tact and scheming. 
 
 It was late when Mr. Gad reached home, 
 but Ruth was patiently waiting for him. 
 The news dazed her, and he did the talking. 
 
 " Now don't say a word about it, my dear. 
 It's the best paying office in the county. 
 The people think it 's been shoved on me. 
 Let them think so. Colonel Short and I 
 won't deny it. Oh yes; you were asking 
 why I didn't tell you all about it. Well, 
 my dear, running a store and running poli- 
 tics are two different things. If you want 
 anything in the store, the best way to get 
 it is to ask for it. If you want anything in 
 politics, the best way to get it is to get it 
 without asking for it. And moreover, my 
 dear, a truthful woman like you is never 
 safe in politics, unless she don't know what 
 she is talking about."
 
 THE OPENING GUN. 
 
 /\T first David Gad's nomination for 
 sheriff was received with great enthusiasm. 
 All this made David's wife Ruth happy. 
 Politics was n't such a bad thing, after all. 
 
 But gradually the enthusiasm began to 
 cool. David's party opponents, seeing the 
 necessity of finding some weakness in his 
 candidacy, quieted their consciences with 
 the fine things they had said, and proceeded 
 to manufacture campaign material. It thus 
 came about that David's just dealings were 
 nothing more than extortion, and that his suc- 
 cess was an affront to every neighbor who 
 had not succeeded. Who was he, anyhow ? 
 Simply a poor country boy, who had got 
 along in some mysterious way, and had now 
 reached the eminence of a high place on the 
 ticket, when there were older men in the dis- 
 trict who should have had the honor. This 
 talk pleased the older men, and although 
 outwardly supporting David, they had hard 
 8
 
 114 THE OPENING GUN. 
 
 feelings in their hearts, and listened to the 
 talk against him with a complaisant air of 
 secret gratification. 
 
 All this David saw and appreciated. He 
 went to town, and had a long talk with 
 Colonel Short. The colonel was affable 
 and interested. 
 
 " I understand it perfectly," he said. " It 
 is always that way, and we '11 have to whip 
 those fellows into line. We 're going to 
 have a pretty hard fight this year, and 
 you must pile up a handsome majority in 
 Sussex District to help us out. The best 
 way is to begin by getting up the biggest 
 meeting you have ever held. Your store at 
 the Cross-roads is a central point, and there 
 is no reason why you should not draw a 
 crowd. Who is your worst man ? " 
 
 " Old Silas Legg is about as bad as any- 
 body. I traded horses with him once, and 
 he never got over it." 
 
 " Yes ; I know him. He is n't much ac- 
 count, but you can make him chairman of 
 the meeting. How about the speakers ? " 
 
 " There is Major Powderdry. We '11 have 
 to have him, and yet if he gets started he '11 
 talk all night." 
 
 " And say nothing. Well, invent some 
 means to shut him off. I '11 send Carr, and
 
 THE OPENING GUN. 115 
 
 you can get some of your neighbors to make 
 a few remarks, and your men to be in readi- 
 ness to applaud. And above all things, get 
 the more influential colored people there. 
 We need some of their votes." 
 
 David went home, and began to make the 
 arrangements. Notices were posted on trees 
 and houses announcing . 
 
 The Opening Gun of the Campaign. 
 
 Great Outpouring of the Citizens of Sussex. 
 
 All in Favor of Honest Government and Low 
 
 Taxes Will Attend. 
 
 Eloquent Speeches by Major Hamilton Powder- 
 dry, Hon. Silas Legg, Hon. Erastus Crawley, 
 Hon. Brent Carr. 
 Ladies Invited. 
 
 Freemen, Assert your Rights ! 
 Save the County from Extravagance and 
 
 Misrule ! 
 
 Don't Forget the Place and Date. 
 Gad's Cross-roads, Thursday Night, Seven- 
 Thirty O'Clock. 
 Come One, Come All 1 
 
 A platform was constructed for the oc- 
 casion. It was rough, but strong. In front 
 were benches for the people.
 
 Il6 THE OPENING GUN. 
 
 Of course the meeting excited great inter- 
 est. It offered a break in the dull routine 
 of Sussex life, and the list of speakers gave 
 a decided attraction to the programme. 
 Moreover, mass-meetings in Sussex had 
 some unexpected features that were worth 
 seeing. Everything was fair in political 
 warfare. 
 
 For days the orators advertised on the 
 printed bills were full of varied emotions. 
 Major Powderdry, more inflated than ever 
 with his importance, rehearsed daily for his 
 greatest effort. Silas Legg did n't think 
 that he would go to the meeting at all, but 
 his name in big letters on the posters was 
 too much for his vanity. Erastus Crawley, 
 after saying he would n't speak, drove his 
 children out of his room because they inter- 
 fered with some writing he was attending to, 
 and that night he scared his wife nearly to 
 death by jumping up in bed and shouting, 
 " Fellow-citizens, I did not expect to make a 
 speech, but " He did n't get any further, 
 for Mrs. Crawley pulled down his uplifted 
 arm and asked him if he was crazy. 
 
 David contemplated his work Thursday 
 morning with considerable satisfaction. 
 Everything was ready. The weather was 
 gloriously fair, the atmosphere was com-
 
 THE OPENING GUN. 117 
 
 fortable, and all the signs pointed to a great 
 success. Sussex District did not boast a 
 brass band, but the meeting itself would 
 draw the people. The opposition were curi- 
 ously quiet, and David was doubtful as to 
 what tactics they would pursue. He had 
 not forgotten the night, several years before, 
 when they hid a hornets' nest under one of 
 the benches, but he did not think they would 
 try such a thing again ; and even if they did, 
 it was too late in the season for hornets to 
 take much exercise. No ; the matter which 
 bothered him most was some way to cut off 
 Major Powderdry's dull monotony of sound. 
 He thought out various schemes, with no 
 success at all, and then, taking recourse to 
 his usual philosophy, he decided to wait for 
 some kind fortune to help him out. 
 
 By seven o'clock the people had arrived. 
 Along the road the carriages and wagons 
 and horses made an imposing display. The 
 benches were filled, crowds stood around 
 the edges, and everybody was ready for 
 the eloquence of the evening. Mrs. Ruth 
 Gad, surrounded by the best ladies of the 
 district, occupied seats well in front. Pres- 
 ently the distinguished speakers filled the 
 chairs on the platform. David was there 
 in his best suit of clothes. Silas Legg's
 
 Il8 THE OPENING GUN. 
 
 linen was radiant and bountiful, and he held 
 himself like a new school trustee at a female 
 Commencement. Erastus Crawley had a 
 conscious air, and occasionally his lips 
 moved, as if he were trying to keep his 
 impromptu speech well in memory. Young 
 Carr sat with the easy grace of an experi- 
 enced speaker, and, like a good politician, 
 looked for his inspiration in the faces of the 
 rosy-cheeked country girls in the audience. 
 More prominent than all of these was Major 
 Powderdry,who was trembling on the thresh- 
 old of his greatest effort. He crossed and 
 recrossed his legs until his trousers were in 
 danger of being worn out. He talked first 
 to one neighbor and then to another, and 
 waited with great impatience until the party 
 men of the district got seated on the stage. 
 Then arising, and kicking down his trousers, 
 which through too much movement had 
 climbed above his shoe tops, he exhibited 
 his large expanse of cuffs, and said, 
 
 " Ladies and gentlemen, I move that the 
 Honorable Silas Legg, our distinguished 
 fellow-citizen, be made chairman of this 
 splendid outpouring of the people." 
 
 The motion was seconded, and Mr. Legg, 
 whose " honorable" had come from one brief 
 term in the Legislature years before, arose,
 
 THE OPENING GUN. 1 19 
 
 and slowly moved to the small table in front. 
 He bowed to the applause, bowed to the 
 platform, and bowed to the audience. Then, 
 in a piping voice, he thanked the people for 
 the compliment, and spoke of the pride of 
 the district in the nomination of " that citi- 
 zen whom we all love for his ability and 
 integrity, Mr. David Gad, our next sheriff." 
 There was great applause ; and Ruth blushed, 
 and felt very proud indeed that she had such 
 a husband. Mr. Legg referred to the party ; 
 told the people that they ought to cast their 
 votes " early but not often," and then said 
 he would not delay the proceedings with 
 any further remarks, but would introduce a 
 man whom they all knew and all honored, 
 the Honorable Erastus Crawley. 
 
 Mr. Crawley, who likewise had been in 
 the Legislature, moved to the front with 
 easy grace. He raised his hand and began : 
 
 " Fellow-citizens, I did not expect to make 
 a speech, but no man who loves his party 
 as I love it can face this assemblage and 
 wish to be quiet. It is a proud privilege to 
 appear before you, and to say a few words 
 in behalf of the splendid ticket that our 
 party has placed in the field, a ticket 
 sound as a dollar and good as gold; a 
 ticket which contains the name of our friend
 
 120 THE OPENING GUN. 
 
 and neighbor David Gad, who will be our 
 next sheriff when the setting sun shall fall 
 upon the ides of November, and place upon 
 our banners the insignia of victory." 
 
 The people did not take time to think 
 how a setting sun was to put insignia on 
 the banners ; it was n't necessary ; they sim- 
 ply saw Mr. Crawley's strong arm come 
 down upon the table, and they heard his 
 voice fall into a cadence that demanded 
 applause, and they applauded. This roused 
 the orator, and on he went, dealing out 
 assurances of success and preaching party 
 principles with rotund vehemence that called 
 forth the liveliest manifestations of delight. 
 Major Powderdry was getting still more 
 fidgety, for he feared that Crawley would 
 capture all the honors. Fortunately for his 
 nerves, however, Mr. Crawley foundered. 
 His memory gave out, and he had to jump 
 over a whole section of his speech to the 
 conclusion, which he delivered in the true 
 war-horse style. He sat down, and with a 
 big red handkerchief, which was reserved 
 strictly for special occasions, wiped off the 
 perspiration that had come from his sturdy 
 oratory. 
 
 Both speeches had been brief. Then it 
 was Major Powderdry 's turn. Slowly and
 
 THE OPENING GUN. 121 
 
 pompously he came to the front. At each 
 stage of the applause his importance swelled. 
 He bowed with the generous grace of a true 
 orator. 
 
 ' Mr. Chairman, ladies and gentlemen, 
 fellow-countrymen, and fellow-citizens," he 
 said, with noble impressiveness, as he raised 
 his hand and again exhibited his immaculate 
 cuff, " the assembled loveliness and yeo- 
 manry of proud old Sussex inspires me with 
 the belief that the mighty voice of the sover- 
 eign people, speaking through the unerring 
 medium of their patriotic enthusiasm, has 
 ably and eloquently foreshadowed the splen- 
 did victory that will greet our magnificent 
 old party in November." (Applause.) 
 
 This sentence would undoubtedly have 
 ended more sonorously if Mr. Crawley had 
 not snatched " the ides of November " from 
 the major, and made him change his words. 
 But fortunately the rest of the speech dif- 
 fered entirely from Mr. Crawley's, and the 
 major had no difficulty in rolling off his long 
 and tedious phrases. Once fully started, he 
 was like a boat launched in the tide ; he 
 kept on going until until 
 
 Yes, until something happened. It was 
 while he was growing eloquent over the 
 " matchless and deathless principles of our
 
 122 THE OPENING GUN. 
 
 glorious old party" that a strain of music 
 with sundry shouts came from down the 
 road, about a hundred yards away. The 
 major drowned it with his voice ; but up it 
 came again, louder than ever. Quickly 
 some secret telegraph spread it around that 
 there was a performing bear in the vicinity. 
 The news had a wonderful effect. At first, 
 those on the outside slipped away. Then 
 the benches began to be emptied. The 
 major talked on with brave resolution ; but 
 what was a mere orator in a country district 
 to a performing bear? 
 
 David Gad was in dismay. Only the 
 women and a few men were left in the 
 audience. His meeting was on the verge of 
 failure. He called a man, and found out 
 the trouble. He did not hesitate. 
 
 "Keep it going, gentlemen, till I get 
 back," he said. And jumping off the plat- 
 form, he hurried to the road. 
 
 The plotters of the opposition quickly 
 mingled with the crowd when they saw him 
 approaching. He came on, with his face 
 full of determination. It had been many 
 years since he had seen a bear, but his curi- 
 osity was overwhelmed in his desire to save 
 the meeting. 
 
 There, in the centre of the crowd, the
 
 THE OPENING GUN. 123 
 
 poor old bear was dancing to the discord 
 of an asthmatic bagpipe. David marched 
 boldly into the arena and demanded the 
 cause of the interference. The man promptly 
 replied that he was on his way to town, 
 and that some young gentlemen had paid him 
 a dollar to give a performance. 
 
 " Come with me," whispered David, " and 
 I '11 give you two dollars ; and if you don't 
 come, I '11 have you arrested." 
 
 The two dollars was a stronger induce- 
 ment than the threat. Very promptly the 
 man, leading the bear, followed David Gad, 
 and behind them came the crowd that had 
 forsaken the meeting. 
 
 The animal produced a great sensation. 
 Major Powderdry took a recess ; and when 
 it was seen that David was going to have 
 that bear give a brief performance on the 
 platform, the excitement reached an inten- 
 sity which had never been known in that 
 neighborhood. 
 
 " He is harmless, gentlemen," was David's 
 assurance ; but it did not assure the distin- 
 guished committee-men and officers. They 
 did not care to share the honors of the plat- 
 form with a bear. Hon. Silas Legg surren- 
 dered the chairmanship, and became a 
 humble spectator ; Hon. Erastus Crawley
 
 124 THE OPENING GUN. 
 
 thought he would rather see the proceed- 
 ings from the audience; and Major Powder- 
 dry, with a look of supreme contempt, retired 
 to the corner of the stage, where he could 
 easily jump off at the first sign of hostility. 
 David Gad remained bravely at his post. 
 
 " Ladies and gentlemen," he said, " we not 
 only defy the opposition, but we capture their 
 ammunition ; and we are going to show you 
 the kind of arguments that they use, by 
 letting their animals give a little show." 
 (Applause.) 
 
 David motioned to the man, and he came 
 forward with the bagpipe and the bear. He 
 played a tune or an apology for a tune 
 and Bruin danced to the music. Everybody 
 was attentive. The performance met with 
 great applause, and a second instalment was 
 called for. David had secured the undi- 
 vided respect of every man and woman in 
 the place. 
 
 "Now, ladies and gentlemen, we will 
 have some more speech-making. Nothing 
 like variety, you know." 
 
 The man and the bear retired. The ani- 
 mal lay down on the far corner of the plat- 
 form. Major Powderdry saw the field open, 
 and advanced to finish his speech. David 
 was sorely disappointed. He had hoped the
 
 THE OPENING GUN. 125 
 
 major would not try again; but the major 
 was not the kind of man to spend a week 
 over his greatest effort, and have it ruined 
 by such untoward circumstances. He began 
 at the safe corner of the platform, but his 
 eloquence being of the moving sort espe- 
 cially in its effects on himself he gradually 
 warmed up to his words and approached the 
 centre of the stage. His oratory was never 
 better. The audience was interested, and 
 the bear was quiet. Presently he reached 
 a climax that called for applause. It came 
 vociferously. David joined in it by stamp- 
 ing on the platform. The bear woke up 
 and growled. The major looked around, 
 and seeing Bruin, promptly returned to his 
 corner. 
 
 Again he proceeded. Again he waxed elo- 
 quent. Again there was applause. Again 
 Bruin growled, and again the major retired 
 from the centre of the stage to his corner. 
 
 A third time he started out to awake the 
 echoes. 
 
 "In the multiplied industries, the diverse 
 interests of our glorious nation," he said, 
 "what party has afforded the most sacred 
 security to our advancing progress ? What 
 principles, founded on justice and built by 
 experience, compassing the munificent wis-
 
 126 THE OPENING GUN. 
 
 dom of past history with the magnificent 
 practicalities of the golden age of the 
 present, have given the rich incentives to 
 our expanding civilization, the splendid 
 promise of freedom and safety to our 
 sovereign citizenship, and the sure protec- 
 tion against extravagance in our public 
 affairs? What principles, I say, and I 
 repeat it with all the earnestness of my 
 soul, what principles, except those which 
 are embodied, like jewels in rich settings 
 of gold, in the platform and practices of 
 our great and glorious old party?" 
 
 There was tremendous applause. The 
 people clapped their hands and hurrahed. 
 David stamped on the platform with all the 
 force of his heavy new boots. And sud- 
 denly the bear, with a noisier growl than 
 ever, arose to his feet, and made a step for- 
 ward. The major heard him, and saw him 
 advance. In his heated imagination, red hot 
 from the fires of eloquence, he fancied a 
 whole drove of bears coming upon him with 
 distended jaws. He did not tarry, but with 
 a leap cleared the stage, and took refuge in 
 the audience. 
 
 Great excitement began, but a panic was 
 easily averted by the man, who took hold of 
 the chain and pulled the animal back.
 
 THE OPENING GUN. 127 
 
 David again came to the front. " That 
 was a beautiful speech of Major Powder- 
 dry's," he said. " It was sound and reason- 
 able and eloquent. Now, to show you a 
 contrast, we '11 have another of the sort of 
 speeches our enemies use." 
 
 This reassured the people, who caught the 
 full spirit of the fun. The music began, 
 and the bear advanced in the usual way. 
 While the performance was in progress 
 David retired, and called some of his men 
 to him. 
 
 " Get this man and this bear away from 
 here," he whispered. " Drive them down 
 the road, and threaten to hang the man to 
 a tree if he don't get out of the neighbor- 
 hood. And mind, do it quietly." 
 
 When the dance was over David took 
 the man to the rear of the stage, and placed 
 two dollars in his hand. As he did so he 
 whispered, 
 
 " Get away from here. Leave the neigh- 
 borhood. If you don't, we '11 string you to 
 a tree." 
 
 The event had filled the poor wanderer 
 with astonishment. He had been so dazed 
 that he scarcely remembered his old tunes. 
 The amazement kept on increasing, and this 
 last admonition settled him. Grabbing the
 
 128 THE OPENING GUN. 
 
 money and holding it tightly, he got off the 
 platform, and pulled the bear after him. 
 Then, plunging into the darkness, he fled 
 from the place. 
 
 Quite promptly and complacently David 
 came to the front again. He had bloomed 
 out on the platform all at once. It surprised 
 no one more than himself to find that he was 
 talking in a good voice to so many people 
 whom he had never faced collectively before. 
 The excitement and the needs of the hour 
 developed him. He introduced Mr. Carr 
 with a vigorous flourish of compliments, and 
 the young orator proceeded to give the peo- 
 ple a strong, practical, persuasive speech, 
 illustrated and brightened by good stories 
 that kept every one amused and interested, 
 his remarks being so entertaining that the 
 bear was for the time forgotten. 
 
 It was getting rather late late for the 
 country, of course when Carr finished ; but 
 he saw that the people were not especially 
 tired, and he took David's breath away by 
 saying that he was sure everybody wanted to 
 hear a few words from the candidate for 
 sheriff. He was shrewd enough to observe 
 that David had in him a strong vein of elo- 
 quent common-sense. His handling of the 
 bear incident showed that. David hesi-
 
 THE OPENING GUN. 129 
 
 tated, but when the demand became urgent, 
 he arose and tried to say something, looking 
 to Ruth for his inspiration. 
 
 " Ladies and gentlemen," he began, " I 
 am no speech-maker : but as the representa- 
 tive of this district on the ticket, I feel proud 
 of the honor, and I tell you squarely that I 
 want your votes. (" You '11 get 'em," shouted 
 a voice.) I believe I will, my friend ; and 
 I tell you now that some people will have 
 about as much success in downing our ticket 
 as they did in trying to stop this meeting. 
 (Great applause.) We '11 not only capture 
 them, but their bears and all the other ani- 
 mals in their menagerie. (Renewed demon- 
 strations.) Fellow-citizens, I 'd like to say 
 one word about that bear. You noticed 
 him did n't you ? Did you ever see such a 
 bear? (Laughter.) He was strong and 
 healthy, and yet he looked poor and weak 
 and ashamed looked as if he had lost his 
 self-respect and independence. Now think 
 a minute. What does that bear do ? He 
 does all the work. He does the dancing, 
 while the man with the wind-bag plays the 
 music. So far so good. Now when the 
 money comes in, who gets it, the bear 
 that makes the show a success, or the man 
 with the wind ? Why, the poor old bear 
 9
 
 130 THE OPENING GUN. 
 
 don't get anything. If sugar-cured hams 
 were a cent apiece, he would never know 
 the taste of them in a year. (Laughter.) 
 The man just plays, and the old bear dances, 
 and I would n't wonder if he was fool enough 
 to think that he was doing the right thing. 
 (Laughter.) Now, it strikes me, fellow- 
 citizens, that our friends on the other side 
 have sent us a first-class specimen of their 
 way of running their party. (" That 's so ! " 
 said a voice.) I see before me some good 
 members of that party, and I see some 
 colored voters who belong to it, too. Now 
 I ask them if their bosses have not been 
 playing on the wind-bag, and making them 
 do the dancing. (Laughter.) Have n't 
 they cast the votes, while the bosses stood 
 around and waited for the prizes ? Who 
 got the proceeds? Why, fellow-citizens of 
 the other side of the fence, you have been 
 doing all the work, and you have n't got a 
 smell of the results. (Laughter and ap- 
 plause.) You are the bear, and the bosses 
 are the firm that plays a little campaign 
 music, and takes all the offices. (Great 
 laughter.) Why don't you come into a 
 party that treats you like men, that respects 
 your independence and glories in your man- 
 hood? (Great applause.) You have heard
 
 THE OPENING GUN. 13! 
 
 the splendid speeches here to-night. These 
 men talked to your reason ; they did n't play 
 on wind, and expect you to do the dancing 
 while they put the money in their pockets, 
 and left you to prowl around the corn-fields 
 for your supper. (More laughter and re- 
 newed applause.) Come into an honest 
 party. We Ve already got a big majority, 
 but there 's always room for more ; and we 
 will see that you will be treated like free 
 American citizens, and not like animals to 
 be trotted out once a year to do the voting for 
 somebody else's profit. I thank you, ladies 
 and gentlemen, for your kind attention." 
 
 There was n't any applause too fervent for 
 David Gad. He had spoken in a homely, 
 forcible way, carrying everybody with him. 
 Mr. Legg's piping words, Mr. Crawley's 
 tumultuous blows, Major Powderdry's volu- 
 ble rhetoric, and even Carr's able arguments, 
 were forgotten in the apt and telling illus- 
 tration of the candidate for sheriff. The 
 people were astonished at his performance, 
 and were proud of his success, and they 
 crowded to the front to shake him by the 
 hand. 
 
 " David," said Carr, " that is worth a hun- 
 dred votes." 
 
 But David shook his head, and began to
 
 132 THE OPENING GUN. 
 
 compliment the other speakers. He thanked 
 the Hon. Silas Legg for his kindness and 
 his eloquent words ; he thanked the Hon. 
 Erastus Crawley for his magnificent speech ; 
 he thanked Major Powderdry for his splen- 
 did address " the best I ever heard, major ; 
 as fine as anything any orator could do." 
 
 And so everybody went home pleased and 
 satisfied. 
 
 Carr spent the night at David Gad's. 
 When all the people had gone, Carr and 
 David and Ruth sat down to a little sup- 
 per which Ruth had prepared. Ruth was 
 prouder than ever of her husband. 
 
 " That bear was very funny," she said ; 
 "but it was too bad for it to scare poor 
 Major Powderdry so ! Was n't it, Mr. 
 Carr?" 
 
 Carr looked at David, and noticed a 
 vagrant smile steal over his face. 
 
 " David, how did you manage it ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " Oh, I did n't do anything ! There was 
 a loose board on the platform. I was sitting 
 on one end of it and the bear was on the 
 other end, and somehow when I applauded, 
 the board flew up and hit the bear, and the 
 bear did n't seem to like it. Carr," exclaimed
 
 THE OPENING GUN. 133 
 
 David, " that bear saved the meeting. Some 
 kind Providence sent him here to-night. If 
 it hadn't been for him, the major would 
 have talked all night." 
 
 Ruth laid down her knife and fork, and 
 gazed sadly at her husband. 
 
 " David," she said, as she shook her head, 
 " I 'm afraid politics will be the ruination of 
 you." 
 
 But Carr declared that it was the best 
 thing he had ever heard of, and he accused 
 David of having the bear around on pur- 
 pose ; but David denied this, and said it 
 was nothing but pure good-luck, "which," 
 he added, " is better than riches, and is just 
 as good as a campaign fund."
 
 THE ELECTION. 
 
 MATTERS did not go as well with the 
 candidacy of David Gad as the beginning 
 had promised. Even the great mass-meeting 
 did not reassure the success which was so 
 certain at first. 
 
 With his good wife Ruth he was sitting 
 in the parlor. He seemed disconsolate. 
 Ruth busied herself with sewing, while he 
 gazed alternately at the lamp and floor. 
 
 " David," said Ruth, " something is troub- 
 ling you." 
 
 " Yes, dear ; something usually is." 
 
 " You have n't any doubt about your elec- 
 tion, have you ? " 
 
 "Of course not. Did you ever know a 
 candidate to have any doubts except as to 
 the size of his majority ? " 
 
 " Now I know something 's wrong. What 
 is it?" 
 
 David did not answer. He looked steadily 
 and sturdily at the floor. Ruth waited 
 awhile, and then resumed :
 
 THE ELECTION. 135 
 
 " What is it, David ? You have n't been 
 comfortable since the mail came in yester- 
 day." 
 
 David glanced up quickly. " Ruth," he 
 said, " did you ever see through a brick 
 wall?" 
 
 " The idea of such a question ! I believe 
 you are losing your mind. You've lost 
 about everything else since you got into 
 politics." 
 
 "Yes," responded the candidate for 
 sheriff, gloomily ; " and I 'm going to lose 
 more." 
 
 Ruth dropped her sewing and gazed at 
 him in* open-eyed dismay. " What ! " she 
 asked, " do they want money ? Why, they 
 declared it should n't cost you anything." 
 
 David shook his head sadly. " It 's al- 
 ways that way," he said. " They sugar-coat 
 you with compliments, and for every compli- 
 ment they issue a note that you 've got to 
 pay before the campaign ends. This poli- 
 tics, Ruth, is a great scheme to use a man's 
 vanity for opening his pocket-book. It 's 
 got so that I 'm afraid to hear a man praise 
 me, lest he should come around afterward 
 to borrow money, and I 'm disappointed if 
 he does n't come, because I feel sure he 's 
 going to vote against me."
 
 136 THE ELECTION. 
 
 " Now, David, if they said that you would 
 strengthen the ticket, and if that is why they 
 put you on, why don't they go ahead and 
 elect you ? " 
 
 " Bless your innocent soul, Ruth, you don't 
 know politics ! Six weeks ago they all said 
 I 'd go through with flying colors, and every- 
 body was crowding around promising to put 
 up money and help me, but six weeks in 
 politics is about six years longer than 
 eternity." 
 
 " Did n't they contribute as they said they 
 would ? " 
 
 " Yes, some did, Major Powderdry for 
 one." 
 
 "Major Powderdry! Why, David, I 
 never knew that he contributed to anything 
 except his debts." 
 
 "That's about what he did. It was this 
 way. Three weeks ago the major came 
 around and said he wanted to make a good 
 contribution to the campaign fund, and 
 after a lot of a-hemming and a-h awing he 
 asked me to lend him a hundred dollars on 
 his note. As long as I had taken the nom- 
 ination from him, and as the money would 
 help my own election, I loaned it to him." 
 
 " And he contributed it to the fund ? " 
 
 David smiled grimly. " Yes, twenty-five
 
 THE ELECTION. 137 
 
 of it. He put the other seventy-five in his 
 pocket. It was the first time that I ever 
 knew Major Powderdry was a financier." 
 
 " A financier ! " exclaimed Ruth, indig- 
 nantly ; " I call it robbery." 
 
 " No, my dear ; it 's finance. As far as I 
 can see, finance is the general barter of 
 humanity, and the biggest financier is the 
 fellow who manages to hold on to the most 
 money. Now old Canton is another finan- 
 cier. We made him chairman of our first 
 mass-meeting, and gave him enough honor 
 for his whole family. Of course we expected 
 to get a good contribution from him. Well, 
 he promised and promised. Then he kept 
 saying that times was hard, and it all ended 
 by his handing over five dollars out of his 
 fifty thousand. And now he is lending me 
 money, and making me pay twelve per cent 
 interest on it. The old skinflint will make 
 nearly a hundred dollars out of me." 
 
 Ruth did not know much about politics, 
 but she had helped David in the store 
 enough to understand something about the 
 rules of interest. This disclosure evidently 
 alarmed her. 
 
 " Do you mean to say," she asked, " that 
 you have put a thousand dollars into this 
 thing?"
 
 138 THE ELECTION. 
 
 "As the day of execution is near at hand, 
 my dear, I suppose I 'd just as well confess. 
 A thousand is about the size of it." 
 
 " But, David, I don't see where you can 
 use all the money." 
 
 " Campaign expenses," he answered, sen- 
 tentiously. 
 
 " What are they ? " 
 
 " Printing tickets and mass-meetings and 
 hiring music, and and other things." 
 
 " What other things ? You don't mean to 
 say, David, that you pay to get votes ? " 
 
 " Certainly not, my dear ; but some people 
 have to be persuaded." 
 
 " Persuaded ? " 
 
 " Yes, persuaded. There are lots of men 
 who will vote our ticket, but they must be 
 paid for their loss of time. Now, for in- 
 stance, there is Bill Simpson. Bill will vote 
 for our ticket, but he needs persuasion. He 
 wants five dollars for his loss of time in 
 going to the polls." 
 
 " But, David, you know that he never 
 does anything, and how can his time be 
 valuable ? " 
 
 " That 's just it. His time is n't valuable 
 except when elections come round. Then 
 everybody finds out that it is a very busy 
 season, and that it will be hard to get to the
 
 THE ELECTION. 139 
 
 voting places unless the party does some- 
 thing for him. I went to see Bill. He 
 said he certainly wanted to vote for me, but 
 he did not see how he was going to get 
 away, for he had a big job of work to do, 
 and it would be worth every cent of five 
 dollars for him to lay off and go to the polls. 
 What are you going to do with such a man 
 unless you compromise ? " 
 
 " Compromise ? " 
 
 " Yes, compromise. " He '11 really expect 
 about two dollars. Last year he got one." 
 
 " David," said Ruth, after a pause, " is n't 
 it wrong to do this ? " 
 
 " It may not be exactly right, dear, but 
 it 's painfully necessary. At election time 
 every man is as big as every other man, and 
 his vote counts just the same whether he is 
 a President or a loafer." 
 
 Ruth paused again while her thoughts 
 struggled for utterance. Presently she said : 
 
 " David, I 'd rather see you defeated than 
 do anything that is not right. I hope and 
 pray that you do not think of buying votes." 
 
 " Of course not, of course not," he replied, 
 with some warmth. " What put such an 
 idea into your head ? And, moreover, what 
 would be the use of trying? The other 
 fellows have the most money."
 
 140 THE ELECTION. 
 
 " How do you know ? " 
 
 " That 's what the letter said, and that 's 
 what has been troubling me. Why, Ruth, 
 the unprincipled scoundrels have three hun- 
 dred new two-dollar notes for use on Tues- 
 day. Just think of it ! That 's enough to 
 carry this district against the Angel Ga- 
 briel ! And if I lose Sussex, I lose the elec- 
 tion and my thousand dollars. It's awful." 
 
 Ruth quickly jumped from criticism to 
 sympathy. She wanted David to be elected, 
 and she had thought he would be until now, 
 when the prospect seemed to change. 
 
 " If women only had the right to vote ! " 
 was all she could say at first. 
 
 David smiled sardonically. " Yes," he 
 said, " if they could. It 's always ' if.' If 
 wishes were two-dollar notes I 'd be satis- 
 fied." 
 
 In his perturbation he picked up the paper 
 that was lying on the table and began to read, 
 while Ruth returned to her sewing. There 
 was silence for some minutes until David 
 called for the scissors. Ruth handed them 
 to him, and he cut a paragraph from the 
 sheet. 
 
 " Ruth, how many people around here take 
 the 'Sussex Weekly'?" 
 
 She named several.
 
 THE ELECTION. 141 
 
 " Well, to-morrow morning I want you to 
 go to all the houses and get the papers. I 
 need them." 
 
 " What is it, David ? " 
 
 " Oh, nothing much. You know I always 
 make it a rule to cut things out that strike 
 my fancy, and I find in the long run that 
 a newspaper is the best investment that 
 I make, because it gives me more new 
 ideas than anything else. I calculate that 
 this little piece of paper is worth a hundred 
 dollars, if not more." 
 
 He folded it carefully and placed it in his 
 pocket-book. 
 
 The next morning after breakfast Ruth 
 started out to visit her neighbors to borrow 
 the " Sussex Weekly." She succeeded in 
 bringing back five copies. David was 
 delighted. At dinner she questioned him 
 again, but his only reply was, 
 
 " Come down in the store when I close 
 to-night and you will see." 
 
 It was a busy day. The next morning 
 the election was to begin. Visitors came 
 constantly to consult the candidate for 
 sheriff. Tricks and rumors of tricks were 
 in the air. Workers wanted money. All 
 asked favors. Everybody whispered fears 
 of defeat in the private office, and boasted
 
 142 THE ELECTION. 
 
 of victory to the crowd in front of the 
 store. Major Powderdry, radiant in his 
 optimism, and exhaustless in his declara- 
 tions of success, was there. 
 
 " We will sweep the county as clean as 
 the celestial dome," he said, " and proud 
 old Sussex will lead the districts in the 
 great battle of free government and low 
 taxes. Gentlemen," nodding to several 
 smiling members of the opposition, " you 'd 
 better join the army, and march through the 
 sea of politics with the children of Israel, 
 for, sure as you 're born, it' s going to be 
 a damp season for the Egyptians. Take 
 the advice of a friend, and get in out of 
 the wet by voting for David Gad." 
 
 " Major," replied one of the opposition, 
 " there was an Irishman once who happened 
 in a field where there was a large, healthy 
 bull. He pulled out a red handkerchief, and 
 the bull began kicking and bellowing. It 
 was very funny. The Irishman laughed so 
 loud that he had to hold his sides. But sud- 
 denly the bull came close, and when Paddy 
 picked himself up on the other side of the 
 fence he said, sadly, 'It's a mighty good 
 thing I got that laugh in first.'" 
 
 " My dear fellow," said the major, impres- 
 sively, " I have profound respect for the age
 
 THE ELECTION. 143 
 
 of your story, but excuse me if I say that it 
 does n't fit the case. To-morrow we shall 
 take that bull by the horns and lead him to 
 the slaughter like a frightened lamb that 
 has been fed on mint sauce just to whet 
 our appetites." 
 
 The major was in his element, and he 
 kept up his fire of repartee with undimin- 
 ished vigor. Everybody talked about the 
 morrow. Presently somebody discovered a 
 newspaper clipping pasted on a board placed 
 rather inconspicuously near the desk of the 
 store. 
 
 " Hello, David, what 's this ? " 
 
 "What's what?" 
 
 " This newspaper article ? " 
 
 " Oh, that ! I suppose it is something 
 that John has stuck up for reference." 
 
 Of course the people crowded around to 
 see what it was. This is what they read : 
 
 "LOOK OUT FOR BAD MONEY! 
 
 " We are informed that a lot of counterfeit 
 two-dollar notes are in circulation in this State, 
 and some of them have found their way into 
 this county. The bank officers tell us that they 
 are so clearly and perfectly engraved that it is 
 difficult for anybody who is not an expert to tell 
 the differences from the real article. Of course
 
 144 THE ELECTION. 
 
 our readers know that it is a crime punishable 
 by imprisonment to attempt to pass these notes, 
 and there is a reward for the arrest of every- 
 body caught in the act. We advise you all to 
 be careful about this thing. Beware of new 
 two-dollar notes." 
 
 They read it carefully, and wanted to 
 know its meaning. David was very igno- 
 rant about it. 
 
 " John 's simply stuck it up there, I guess. 
 John 's a little absent-minded sometimes, and 
 he wants something to keep him from taking 
 in another counterfeit. He took in one, and 
 he looks as if he 'd been to a funeral ever 
 since." 
 
 " You don't think that any of the bills are 
 around here ? " put in one of David's political 
 opponents, rather experimentally. 
 
 " No ; not that I know of. All the two- 
 dollar notes I 've seen this week are old, and 
 of course they 're all right." 
 
 The hour of breaking up came, and the 
 people started for their homes. As they 
 left the store, Major Powderdry stood on 
 the highest step and indulged in more 
 rhetoric. 
 
 " To-morrow's setting sun," he said, " is 
 going to witness a sight that will cast new 
 glory on the American eagle. Victory will
 
 THE ELECTION. 145 
 
 perch on our standards, and our ticket will 
 go through like a streak of greased light- 
 ning. Sleep well, gentlemen, and be at the 
 polls early." 
 
 " We '11 be there," shouted the major's 
 opponents. 
 
 After they had gone and the shutters were 
 put up, Ruth came downstairs. She looked 
 around until she discovered the clipping 
 pasted on the board. 
 
 " Is that it? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes," said David, " that 's it." 
 
 Good weather blessed the day of election. 
 The people were up early. Around the 
 polls was plenty of life and noise. An elec- 
 tion in a rural district differs entirely from 
 an election in the city. Your city people 
 walk to the polls, cast their ballots, and 
 walk away. The highest privilege of citi- 
 zenship is a matter for expedition. In the 
 country it is an occasion for assembling, for 
 gossip and argument and entreaty. Along 
 the road are carriages and horses, ox-carts, 
 wagons, and all the curious kinds of vehicles 
 of the neighborhood. The voters stop to 
 talk and to consult. No hurry disturbs 
 them. They stand around, some whip in 
 hand, some holding tickets, some smoking 
 bad cigars, and all personally interested in 
 10
 
 146 THE ELECTION. 
 
 the contest. The fences are the reserved 
 seats of the occasion. Up the road in quiet 
 corners are the practical workers, with the 
 sinews of war. Behind trees are jugs and 
 bottles of dangerous inspiration. A merce- 
 nary voter is never in haste to vote. He 
 canvasses the situation, finds out the re- 
 sources of both sides, gets frequent exhilara- 
 tion from the jugs and the bottles, and 
 finally casts his ballot with the largest 
 pecuniary benefit to himself. The efforts 
 of the workers to monopolize this individual 
 are earnest, prolonged, and untiring. 
 
 It was this way in Sussex District. David 
 Gad's friends made a cordon around the 
 polls. The candidate for sheriff was not 
 present at his polling-place, except for a 
 short time to cast his vote, but he was ably 
 represented. The opponents, however, were 
 just as strong, and were all the more danger- 
 ous because they remained in the quiet cor- 
 ners up the road where they could barter 
 without discovery. 
 
 In David's store matters were quiet, as 
 the chief interest centred at the polls. John 
 was ostensibly in charge. David kept watch- 
 fully and quietly in the background. He 
 was waiting for developments. About half- 
 past eight o'clock he saw a figure coming
 
 THE ELECTION. 147 
 
 from the voting-place, and his heart beat 
 more excitedly with anticipation. The man 
 was a surly fellow named Higgs, an un- 
 conscionable bribe-taker. 
 
 Higgs entered the store, which was the 
 only one near the polls, and bought some 
 tobacco. In payment he proffered a new 
 two-dollar note. 
 
 " No you don't," said John. 
 
 " Don't what ? " 
 
 " We ain't taking no bad money here." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " said the fellow, 
 with a mixture of indignation and alarm. 
 
 " This is what I mean," said John, and 
 taking down the board, he read the article 
 about counterfeits. 
 
 Higgs was dumfounded. Then he recov- 
 ered his powers of speech, and deluged the 
 place with his surcharged feelings. In the 
 midst of it David appeared. 
 
 " Good-morning, Mr. Higgs. It 's a pleas- 
 ant day for the election. Have you voted ? " 
 
 Without replying, Higgs called himself 
 various unprintable names, and told David 
 how he had been imposed upon by some 
 unnamed scoundrel. 
 
 " This is very serious," said David. " Of 
 course you thought the money was good, and 
 I don't believe you would want to run the
 
 148 THE ELECTION. 
 
 danger of getting arrested by trying to pass 
 a counterfeit. But if I were you I 'd make 
 the fellow who gave it to you pay for it with 
 interest." 
 
 Higgs, with unmistakable emphasis, de- 
 clared he would, and left the store in hot 
 haste. He had just disappeared around 
 the bend of the road when Major Powder- 
 dry drove up and dismounted. He rushed 
 to the store, and led David into the back 
 shed. 
 
 " It 's all right," he said. " Our men have 
 got the articles at every polling-place, and 
 they 're going to raise the devil just as soon 
 as a two-dollar note appears. How are 
 things here ? " 
 
 " Higgs has just been in with a two-dollar 
 note, which we refused to accept." 
 
 " Good ! " 
 
 " And he 's gone back to the polls to see 
 about it. He 's hotter than a tin roof in 
 August." 
 
 " That 's simply magnificent. I 'm going 
 down there to help him. You stay here." 
 
 The major was lost in a cloud of dust. 
 He urged his horse on until he came near 
 the voting-place, and then slowed up and 
 approached with an easy dignity which 
 seemed to indicate that he had only a pass-
 
 THE ELECTION. 149 
 
 ing interest in the momentous events of the 
 day. 
 
 But he did not remain passive. All 
 around him the people were talking ex- 
 citedly. Higgs's voice was loud in anger. 
 His charges were taken up by the other 
 rascals who, like himself, had sold their 
 suffrages for two dollars each. The man- 
 agers of the opposition tried entreaty and 
 pacification, and it looked as if they were 
 making some headway until Major Powder- 
 dry jumped into the breach. His face 
 flushed, his fists beat the air, his voice rang 
 out in fury. The people crowded around 
 him. 
 
 " It is the most atrocious outrage I ever 
 heard of," he exclaimed. " These men try 
 to pollute the fame and corrupt the citizen- 
 ship of this district ; they insult every honest 
 voter here ; and not only that, but they im- 
 pose on their victims by giving them worth- 
 less money. Gentlemen, I repeat that it is 
 the most damnable affront that was ever 
 offered to the decent sentiment of the sov- 
 ereign people. Where is the man who will 
 swear out warrants against these persons ? " 
 
 In the face of the indignation the oppo- 
 nents beat a retreat to an obscure corner of 
 the road where they could consult. Major
 
 150 THE ELECTION. 
 
 Powderdry took charge of the work. Every 
 arrival was deluged with stories of the worth- 
 less money, was told how the opponents of 
 David Gad were trying to defeat him by 
 debauching and bribing voters, and was led 
 to the polls through a line of David Gad's 
 friends. The other side did not recover 
 from the set-back ; it could not cope with 
 the tireless energy and exhaustless adjectives 
 of Major Powderdry. 
 
 And so the work went bravely on until 
 until 
 
 Major Powderdry, dust-covered and husky, 
 rushed into the house of David Gad. It was 
 past sunset, and the voting was over. David 
 jumped forward to hear the result. 
 
 " Not yet not yet," exclaimed the major, 
 with a majestic wave of his oratorical arm. 
 " Bring out your demijohn your large 
 demijohn. I have four acres of dust and 
 five summer fogs in my throat, and J 'm 
 doomed to certain death unless I get a 
 drink within the next five minutes." 
 
 David supplied the demand with welcome 
 alacrity. 
 
 " Consider yourself decorated with a life- 
 saving medal," said the major. 
 
 " Now tell me how it all went"
 
 THE ELECTION. 15! 
 
 " You know when I left here this morn- 
 ing?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well, as soon as I arrived there I began 
 to raise thunder, and, by Jove, we kept it 
 raised until the polls closed ! We simply 
 knocked the other side out on the first round. 
 The fates favored us when Higgs came up to 
 the store. When he got back, he bellowed 
 like a bull, and the more he bellowed the 
 more we egged him on, and pretty soon we 
 had things our own way. I discovered that 
 about five or ten years ago Cartridge, who 
 was handling the money for the other side, 
 had got mixed up in some of that green- 
 goods business in one of the cities ; he was 
 innocent undoubtedly, but that did n't make 
 any difference. I went up to him and whis- 
 pered : ' Look here, Mr. Cartridge, you can't 
 come any of your green-goods game on these 
 people. We want a fair election, and we 're 
 going to have it. If you pay out any more 
 of those two-dollar notes we '11 put you in 
 the penitentiary, and keep you there till your 
 head gets bald ! ' " 
 
 " What did he say ? " 
 
 " Nothing. I did n't give him time to say 
 anything. We were too busy keeping up the 
 cry of bribery and counterfeit to discuss side
 
 I2 THE ELECTION. 
 
 issues. We laid it on heavy. The people 
 backed me up nobly. I talked more than I 
 ever did in all my life. As the voters came 
 up, we never let them go until we gave them 
 the whole story with a lot of ornament. We 
 told them of the plot to defeat you, and let 
 them know plainly that the decent people 
 were not going to allow any such an outrage. 
 And the negroes ! Oh, David, you ought to 
 have seen how we managed them ! I got 
 hold of Big Jim, for I knew he had more in- 
 fluence with his race than any one else, and 
 promised him that you would pay him five 
 dollars to-morrow if he would scare the ne- 
 groes with the counterfeit story, and keep 
 them away from those new two-dollar 
 notes. It worked beautifully. The other 
 fellows are swearing like pirates. They 're 
 beaten. I know that we have carried this 
 district." 
 
 " But how about the county ? " 
 
 " I have n't heard a word. Let 's wait 
 awhile, and see if we can get any news." 
 
 They waited. In an hour the result of 
 that precinct came in. The counting of the 
 vote had been completed. It gave David a 
 majority of one hundred and sixty-seven, 
 fully one hundred more than he expected. 
 An hour later a rider brought news from
 
 THE ELECTION. 153 
 
 the adjoining voting-place. The counterfeit 
 dodge had worked successfully. David had 
 a majority there of forty-five, when he did 
 not expect more than fifteen or twenty. 
 Matters looked bright. About ten o'clock 
 a messenger from the opposite direction ar- 
 rived. He came from the district adjoining 
 the county town. The counterfeit dodge had 
 been a failure. As soon as it was sprung, 
 the workers had rushed on horseback into 
 town, and had their new money changed for 
 old. They got back without much loss of 
 time, and swept the district against David 
 by a majority of two hundred and eighty- 
 four. 
 
 " I 'm nearly dead," exclaimed the major, 
 " but I can't stand this. I 'm going to 
 town." 
 
 Others joined him, and off they started at 
 full gallop. David remained at home. If 
 he was elected, all well and good ; if not, he 
 was n't going to be in town to let the people 
 see his disappointment. 
 
 He and Ruth went to bed, but not to sleep. 
 He tried to feel calm, but his mind refused 
 to be quiet. He turned and twisted. His 
 eyes would not stay closed. The clock 
 struck the hours. Time seemed to crawl 
 along. Four o'clock came. Toward five
 
 154 THE ELECTION. 
 
 the minutes were travelling when he heard 
 the sound of horses' hoofs coming at break- 
 neck speed up the road. A minute more 
 there was a halt before his store, and a 
 mighty shout of " Hurrah for Gad ! " 
 
 Above the din was the major's voice, 
 " Come out, David." 
 
 David appeared at the window in short 
 order, and as soon as his white-robed form 
 was seen, the shouts were trebled in vigor. 
 The major tried to make a speech, and his 
 companions tried to help him, but it was not 
 a brilliant success. They were full of very 
 bad liquor, and David was full of the emo- 
 tions of a man who has run his first cam- 
 paign and won. 
 
 " Come away from that window, or you '11 
 catch cold," said a small, shrill voice ; but 
 David did not hear. 
 
 He stood there listening to the revelry. 
 By and by the revellers got tired, and with 
 more hurrahs started on their way, making 
 the night hideous as they went with baccha- 
 nalian sounds, which might be interpreted 
 into something about not going home until 
 morning. 
 
 David felt proud of the exhibition, but 
 Ruth lost no time in declaring that it was 
 scandalous.
 
 THE ELECTION. 155 
 
 A week later David and Ruth were sitting 
 in their room. The store had been closed 
 for the night. In the fireplace the logs 
 burned lazily, and the shaded lamp sent its 
 rays upon Ruth's knitting and David's news- 
 paper. 
 
 " I am certainly thankful it 's all over," 
 said Ruth. " I had n't any peace from the 
 time the campaign started. But I 'm truly 
 glad that you are elected, and it did my 
 heart good to read the fine things that the 
 newspaper said about you. And yet, David, 
 I feel rather sorry in having to leave this 
 store and our old friends." 
 
 "We won't leave them all, dear. I saw 
 Major Powderdry to-day, and told him that 
 I would like to do something to show my 
 appreciation of his work, but the best I 
 could do was to offer him the position of 
 deputy, which I would be very glad if he 
 would accept." 
 
 " Did he ? " 
 
 " Yes ; he accepted. He 's been after an 
 office for twenty years, and this is the first 
 real chance that he has had, so he did not 
 let it escape. And speaking of the major 
 reminds me that we took in three of those 
 new two-dollar notes to-day. I gave one to 
 John. Here is one that I want you to frame
 
 156 THE ELECTION. 
 
 with that newspaper clipping, as a souvenir 
 of our first campaign." 
 
 "And the other? " 
 
 " I guess I '11 send that to renew my sub- 
 scription to the ' Sussex Weekly.' "
 
 A NEW DEAL. 
 
 "W, 
 
 HAT'S this? 'Hand-Book of Eti- 
 quette ! ' Well, well ! " and he opened the 
 volume. " Forms of declination ! " he read 
 again. "'Mr. and Mrs. De Dash regret 
 extremely that they are unable to accept the 
 polite invitation of Mr. and Mrs. De Blank.' 
 It's too bad! I wonder if they've got 
 measles in the family, or perhaps the chil- 
 dren are down with the croup. Now look 
 here, my dear, if you 're going to get fashion- 
 able, I '11 resign, and go back to Gad's Cross- 
 roads." 
 
 David Gad was not the first man who 
 found something amusing in a book on 
 etiquette, and as long as a sense of humor 
 remains with the human race, he will not be 
 the last. But in the case of himself and 
 his wife Ruth there was a special signifi- 
 cance. They were on the threshold of a 
 new career. He had been elected sheriff 
 of Quantico County. He had established
 
 158 A NEW DEAL. 
 
 Major Powderdry, his deputy, in the jail 
 residence, and for himself and Ruth had 
 taken a house in a desirable section of 
 Salem, the county-seat. 
 
 Salem was a place of two thousand people, 
 mostly politicians ; but while it was small, 
 it was exacting in its social demands. 
 Family was greater than wealth, although 
 wealth was occasionally accepted as a sub- 
 stitute for ancestry. With the Gads the 
 situation was in the middle; their antece- 
 dents were humble but reputable, and their 
 means were the comfortable results of atten- 
 tion to business and economy. In Sussex 
 District they were as good as other people, 
 but in the county town they had the disad- 
 vantage of newness. David's election had 
 made him known, and he was geographically 
 immortalized in the naming of Gad's Cross- 
 roads, but he knew that the best success 
 under the changed circumstances must come 
 from a policy of prudence. He idolized 
 Ruth, he believed her better than the best, 
 and he had the fullest confidence in her 
 social possibilities. So while he made fun 
 of the " Hand Book of Etiquette," he was 
 secretly elated by its presence in the house. 
 
 Their town life began as an experiment, 
 and grew on observation. Everything was
 
 A NEW DEAL. 159 
 
 new. It was the step from the informality 
 of rural intercourse, in which everybody 
 knew everybody, to the clearly defined 
 circles of an organized society. Salem had 
 an aristocracy. The aristocrats were proud 
 of their transatlantic ancestries, proud of 
 the official honors that had come to their 
 names in the republic. In their life they 
 mingled the consciousness of their origin 
 with a superiority of the present that de- 
 manded a dignified standard of conduct and 
 a general recognition of their family impor- 
 tance. 
 
 In Salem, politics followed the lines of 
 society as closely as possible. Many of the 
 aristocrats depended upon office for their 
 incomes. The intelligence of the county 
 concentrated in the town manipulated affairs 
 so as to secure the choicest results for its 
 favorites. Sometimes there were signs of 
 revolt in the outlying districts, and occa- 
 sionally rural leaders became so strong that 
 danger was threatened, but the bosses at 
 Salem "the court-house crowd" were 
 full of policy and pacification. 
 
 Colonel Short, who was the chief of the 
 bosses, was a man of middle age, close in 
 his dealings, but zealously alert in his per- 
 sonal habits. In many respects he was an
 
 l6o A NEW DEAL. 
 
 ideal politician of the practical sort. He 
 was well posted. He studied men, managed 
 them by their vanities, and saved himself in 
 emergencies by adroitly allowing candidates 
 to fight one another instead of assailing him. 
 David Gad's name was placed on the ticket in 
 this peculiar manner. There was a scramble 
 for the sheriff's office. None of the scram- 
 blers suited Colonel Short. David had com- 
 mended himself by his reticence, his good 
 sense, and his service as a secret handler of 
 campaign funds. Colonel Short and he 
 talked it over. The sheriffs office was 
 promised to him. The agreement was a 
 mutual confidence. Not a word was said, 
 but in a few weeks nearly every district in 
 the county had a candidate, and when the 
 convention met they fought each other 
 beyond the hope of peace. It was then 
 that Colonel Short, in his capacity of peace- 
 maker, got Major Powderdry to withdraw as 
 the candidate of Sussex District, and sub- 
 stitute the name of Gad, who was there as 
 one of the major's delegates. The startled 
 look of feigned astonishment that David 
 showed to the cheering convention was to 
 Colonel Short one of the most delightful 
 experiences in all his political career, and 
 the fact that David, now installed as sheriff,
 
 A NEW DEAL. l6l 
 
 had Major Powderdry as the chief deputy 
 added to his appreciation of the episode. 
 
 Next to Colonel Short in power was Mr. 
 Presford, who for sixteen consecutive years 
 had enjoyed the fees of the clerkship of the 
 Circuit Court. He was the politest man in 
 the county, a dispenser of cordiality that 
 occasionally cheered but never compro- 
 mised. An illustrious ancestry, comprising 
 an officer in the Revolutionary army, a 
 foreign minister, and a member of Con- 
 gress, illumined his social importance. His 
 wife, with family connections equalling his 
 own, was the leader of the county society, 
 and her house was the centre of its aristoc- 
 racy. To Mr. Presford there was a place 
 for politics and a place for society, and 
 he objected to desecrating his home for 
 electioneering purposes. He looked upon 
 David Gad as one of the incidents of poli- 
 tics. Secretly it may have pained him to 
 see the party conferring its offices on per- 
 sons of inferior pedigree, but he was too 
 polite and too politic to confess to the feel- 
 ing, and, moreover, the party had to do 
 something occasionally for the common 
 people or it might lose their votes. 
 
 Around Colonel Short and Mr. Presford 
 were a dozen lawyers of varying ages, some 
 ii
 
 1 62 A NEW DEAL. 
 
 of whom held offices, and all of whom were 
 looking for larger opportunities. Henry Can- 
 was the most prominent. He was a fine fel- 
 low, with a plenty of natural eloquence, a 
 sturdy manhood, and an unusual equipment 
 of that rare but valuable quality in politics 
 patience. The aristocrats confidently 
 expected to hear his voice in Congress. 
 A contrast to Carr was little Dickey Bin- 
 son, a small but active aristocrat, who 
 dressed better and put on more style with 
 his few hundred dollars salary as a copy- 
 ing clerk under his uncle, Mr. Presford, than 
 the richest man in the county. Dickey's 
 chief ambition in life was to talk family, 
 dance all night, and draw his salary in 
 advance. Carr appreciated David Gad's 
 qualities. Dickey thought it a base pre- 
 sumption for an "old hayseed" to try to 
 enter the town's society. 
 
 David Gad was blissfully unconscious of 
 the emotions that his coming had aroused. 
 He had always made it a rule to attend to 
 his own business, and he and Ruth thought 
 mainly of getting settled in their home. 
 Ruth's natural good taste was quick to ap- 
 preciate and utilize suggestions, and the 
 result was that within a month their house 
 was in excellent order.
 
 A NEW DEAL. 163 
 
 By that time, too, the neighbors had begun 
 to visit them. Among the first were Senator 
 and Mrs. Boone, who lived on the opposite 
 side of the street, and who belonged to the 
 best society of the town. It was foreor- 
 dained that Ruth and Mrs. Boone, both of 
 whom were great home-bodies, should at 
 some time in their lives come together. 
 At first they seemed a little scared at each 
 other, but the moment they began to talk 
 flowers and preserves, they felt very com- 
 fortably acquainted. When they got so as 
 to exchange recipes and patterns and cook- 
 books, they reached that domestic affinity 
 that smoothed all thoughts into a perfect 
 harmony of feeling; and when Mrs. Boone 
 was sick for three days, and Ruth prepared 
 jellies for her and spent the afternoon at 
 her bedside, the friendship grew into that 
 strong if somewhat occasional reciprocity 
 that makes one family refer to another as 
 " the best of neighbors." 
 
 Men have no such short-cuts to intimacy. 
 They cannot exchange patterns and recipes 
 and make jellies for one another. But in 
 some way David and the senator got along 
 wonderfully well. They spent many even- 
 ings together. The senator was a lawyer 
 of long experience with men and affairs,
 
 164 A NEW DEAL. 
 
 a citizen whose sharp interest in public mat- 
 ters was more in the abstract than in per- 
 sonal participation, although he had been a 
 member of the State Senate, the title of 
 which honor still clung to his name. 
 
 " I was very sorry that you refused a sec- 
 ond term," said David one evening. " You 
 were the truest representative that the 
 county has had since I can remember. If 
 your plans had been carried out, we would 
 have the old-time majority and the old-time 
 enthusiasm." 
 
 " I am glad to hear you say that, Mr. Gad. 
 You appreciate as well as I do how methods 
 have changed. We have bossism here in 
 its worst form. Our politics have become a 
 scramble for office, and our friends in town 
 are manipulating them so that they always get 
 the rewards. Money has taken the place of 
 merit, and promises made only to be broken 
 are more powerful than principles. I was 
 placed on the ticket to save it, but when 
 success came to us, and I tried to introduce 
 a few reforms in our county government, I 
 found all the influences arrayed against me. 
 I wanted to abolish the fee system in our 
 offices, and substitute salaries; I wanted 
 strict examination of accounts and a better 
 election law all of which the bosses op-
 
 A NEW DEAL. 165 
 
 posed. They were stronger than I. And 
 so our high taxes go on, our county is mis- 
 managed, and the people's money finds its 
 way into private pockets. By the way, I 
 understand that you had quite an experience 
 with those managers ? " 
 
 "In what way?" asked David, utterly 
 upset by the remark. 
 
 " Oh, because I know them so well," re- 
 plied Senator Boone, with a smile. " See if 
 I can guess the modus operandi. Last sum- 
 mer the outlook was bad. The opposition 
 were active, and were loaded with first-class 
 campaign ammunition. The court-house 
 crowd became frightened. They needed a 
 majority in Sussex District to carry them 
 through. They looked around, and settled 
 on Mr. David Gad. He was a man who 
 stood well, who had done good, quiet service 
 in politics, who had no antagonisms, and who 
 possessed a few thousand dollars laid aside 
 for a rainy day. Mr. Gad was invited to a 
 conference with Colonel Short. The office 
 was promised to him as a gift, without a cent 
 of cost. He was nominated by a clever ruse 
 that made the result appear entirely unpre- 
 meditated. It was after the nomination that 
 Mr. Gad's troubles began. He had to work 
 like a plough-horse, and he had to go down
 
 1 66 A NEW DEAL. 
 
 into his pockets ; for after his nomination he 
 would rather have spent all he possessed 
 than be defeated." The senator paused a 
 moment, and then resumed : " And I very 
 strongly suspect that the nomination offered 
 to Mr. Gad so free of expense made quite a 
 little hole into a thousand dollars." 
 
 David's face was a study during the sen- 
 ator's diagnosis. All he could say was, 
 " Senator, you will have to guess again." 
 
 " Not two thousand ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 " No ; just about twelve hundred and 
 fifty." 
 
 And both men laughed. 
 
 " Mr. Gad, it is not the best of good taste 
 to give a man advice without his asking for 
 it, especially if the giver be a lawyer ; but I 
 hope you will keep your eyes well opened 
 while you are in Salem." 
 
 In less than a week from the evening of 
 this conversation, David received a note 
 from Colonel Short asking him to come to 
 his office. He was welcomed with marked 
 cordiality. The usual greetings drifted into 
 remarks upon current topics, until the colonel 
 reached a personal point. 
 
 " It was one of the greatest pleasures of 
 my life, Mr. Gad," he said, " to be instru- 
 mental in having you nominated and elected,
 
 A NEW DEAL. 167 
 
 and I am very glad to know that you are so 
 comfortably settled in town. I should have 
 been delighted to go on your bond, but you 
 had it all arranged before I could offer my 
 services." 
 
 David thanked him. 
 
 "Of course you know," he continued, 
 " that I hold no office. I give my time and 
 money to the party management because I 
 want to see our party victorious and our 
 county in safe hands. I ask no rewards 
 for my work, but I have thought, Mr. Gad, 
 that if you could do me a favor occasionally, 
 we might work together in some matters." 
 
 David bowed his head, but said nothing. 
 
 " You remember," went on the colonel, in 
 his blandest tones, " that when we agreed on 
 the nomination last summer, we also agreed 
 to stand by each other. My part of the con- 
 tract, you know, has been faithfully carried 
 out." 
 
 David remembered it. He also remem- 
 bered the twelve hundred and fifty dollars. 
 What he said, however, had no apparent 
 relation to these thoughts. 
 
 " In what way, colonel, can I serve you?" 
 he asked. 
 
 " Now we are coming to it. It is in your 
 power as a sheriff to give to me as a lawyer
 
 168 A NEW DEAL. 
 
 a great many important cases, a service 
 which will in no way compromise you, and 
 which will enable you and me to work to- 
 gether. As long as I have no office, it is 
 only fair that I should get these indirect 
 favors from our party." 
 
 "Is that all?" 
 
 " Well, of course I may ask you once in a 
 while to give special attention to some legal 
 matters that may fall into your hands. They 
 will give you little trouble, and will be in 
 the strict line of your duty." 
 
 There was a pause, which was broken by 
 David's rising to go. 
 
 " I believe we understand each other," said 
 the colonel. 
 
 " Yes," said David, " I understand it ; " 
 and thanking the colonel for inviting him to 
 call, he left the office. 
 
 The next evening David went over to see 
 his neighbor. They were together in the 
 library. The conversation was mainly on 
 politics and county affairs. 
 
 " Senator," said David, " I have been 
 looking into things down at the court-house 
 in a quiet way, and I was wondering to-day 
 what the control of all the county offices 
 was worth. Now, take my place, the 
 sheriff's work and his influence ? "
 
 A NEW DEAL. 169 
 
 Senator Boone's eyes twinkled. " It is 
 hard to say, but I suppose from six to ten 
 thousand dollars would be a fair estimate 
 for all the offices, and about three or four 
 thousand for the sheriff's office, although in 
 some years it is worth five, provided the 
 sheriff devotes all patronage to one lawyer, 
 and gives that enviable gentleman prece- 
 dence in all legal matters. Do you want a 
 partner ? " 
 
 " Oh, no," laughed David. " If I should, 
 I '11 advertise for bids." 
 
 " The only difficulty about it," said the 
 Senator, "is that it is a big risk for the sher- 
 iff's reputation, and is rather against his 
 oath of office ; but of course a little thing 
 like that doesn't count in our modern 
 politics." 
 
 David and Ruth soon had a comfortable 
 circle of acquaintances, and their town life 
 was altogether pleasant. The fact that the 
 aristocrats, excepting Senator and Mrs. 
 Boone, had not called disturbed them little. 
 Indeed, they never mentioned it to each 
 other. 
 
 After Lent the Presfords sent out invita- 
 tions to a reception and dance. The coming 
 event was the talk and the expectation of 
 Salem society. Three days before it oc-
 
 170 A NEW DEAL. 
 
 curred, David started into the clerk's office 
 on a matter of business. As he reached the 
 door he stopped suddenly to see if he had 
 his memorandum with him, and as he pulled 
 his papers from his pocket he heard a voice 
 say, 
 
 " Dick, why did n't your uncle ask the 
 Gads ? " 
 
 "Oh, come now, dear boy, one has to 
 draw the line somewhere, you know. Just 
 because Gad was elected sheriff is no rea- 
 son why he should be embraced socially. If 
 you begin that sort of thing, what 's society 
 going to amount to?" 
 
 David heard no more. He turned on his 
 heel and walked away. That night at sup- 
 per he acted more tenderly than usual toward 
 Ruth. 
 
 " What have you to do to-morrow, dear ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " Nothing in particular." 
 
 " Well, I 'm glad to hear it. You can go 
 up to Sussex with me, can't you ? " 
 
 " Yes, David, and I '11 be very glad to go." 
 
 "Then suppose we spend four days there. 
 I Ve got some business around the district, 
 and it will take you and the other women 
 that long to trade gossip." 
 
 When they returned after a very pleas-
 
 A NEW DEAL. 171 
 
 ant visit the Presford reception was over, 
 and David resumed his work as if the great- 
 est social event of the season had not ruffled 
 the surface of the town. 
 
 With Powderdry, however, the case was 
 different. He had not been invited, and he 
 resented the slight. " My family is as good 
 as Presford's," he declared ; " and he need n't 
 think he is so much better than the Powder- 
 drys just because he has more money than I 
 have." 
 
 David drew him aside. " Powderdry," he 
 said, " don't make a fool of yourself. That 
 kind of talk hurts you ten times as much as 
 it hurts Presford." 
 
 But if Powderdry accepted David's advice 
 in this respect, he did not stop his tongue in 
 other matters. His work took him over the 
 county. Country people always want to 
 know what is going on in town, and Major 
 Powderdry was quite willing to accommo- 
 date them. 
 
 " The court-house crowd are running 
 things with a pretty high hand," he de- 
 clared, " and are living like lords off the 
 money of the tax-payers. Old Short and 
 Presford have the best of it. If Senator 
 Boone's plan of salaries, which he wanted 
 to get through the Legislature, was in force
 
 172 A NEW DEAL. 
 
 they would not have half the money that 
 they now have, and you people would have 
 lower taxes. We fellows who have worked 
 for the party all our lives hardly get enough 
 to live on." 
 
 " How 's David Gad ? " they asked. 
 
 " Oh, he 's all right, but he don't seem to 
 suit the bosses. He runs his office hon- 
 estly, and they don't like it. I tell you, 
 gentlemen, if we had more of him in office 
 the country would be better off. I know 
 for a fact that he has saved a dozen of the 
 people by giving them a little time and 
 keeping off the mortgage-holding lawyers." 
 
 Reports of this talk soon found its way 
 back to Salem. The bosses were quick to 
 appreciate its influence. They had hither- 
 to negatived criticism by having their own 
 men talk it down, and ascribe it to the cam- 
 paign lies of the opposition. They had long 
 deceived the farmers and villagers. Pow- 
 derdry's remarks were doubly dangerous. 
 They must stop them. 
 
 Short and Presford sent for David. He 
 came at the appointed time. 
 
 " Mr. Gad," said Colonel Short, " we have 
 a complaint to make." 
 
 " Gentlemen, I 'm all attention," replied 
 the sheriff.
 
 A NEW DEAL. 173 
 
 " Your deputy has been going around the 
 county peddling a lot of nonsense that will 
 hurt the party if his mouth is not closed." 
 
 "It will be pretty hard to do that," said 
 David, with a smile. 
 
 " But it 's got to stop," said Presford. 
 
 " Yes," joined Short, " and it must stop 
 right away. We gave you this office." 
 
 ''You gave it to me, gentlemen ?" asked 
 David, with innocent emphasis. 
 
 " If it had not been for us you would never 
 have gotten it. And since you have been 
 there you have done nothing for us. You 
 appointed Powderdry without consulting 
 us. You run its affairs without asking our 
 advice. You " 
 
 There was a slight pause. David un- 
 crossed his legs, and looking directly at 
 Colonel Short asked, "What do you want?" 
 
 " You must discharge Powderdry." 
 
 " Yes, and you must discharge him at 
 once," added Presford. 
 
 David arose. " Gentlemen," he said, with 
 considerable firmness in his voice, " who is 
 sheriff of this county ? " 
 
 " Oh, there 's no use getting angry about 
 it," said the colonel, quickly. 
 
 " Of course not, of course not. I 'm not 
 at all angry, neither are you, but let me say
 
 174 A NEW DEAL. 
 
 that as long as I 'm sheriff, Powderdry 
 remains my deputy." 
 
 There is a kind of atmospheric electricity 
 pervading the politics of all county towns. 
 The air in Salem was heavily charged with 
 it, and gradually the office-holders became 
 satisfied that the usual currents were not 
 working regularly. Powderdry had felt that 
 something was going on, and that in some 
 mysterious way he was connected with it. 
 So he asked David. 
 
 " Come around to my house after supper," 
 replied the sheriff. 
 
 Powderdry came. The very fact of his 
 punctuality was a strange exhibition of the 
 ways of politics. Six months before, Pow- 
 derdry, living proudly on his ancestry and 
 his debts, looked upon David Gad as 
 nothing more than a humble storekeeper. 
 He expected to be the county sheriff, but 
 David stepped in and got the office, and 
 now he was serving as an underling of the 
 man he once affected to patronize. He was 
 much older than David; he had been in 
 politics all his life ; but he had talked more 
 than he had schemed, and the result had 
 been continuous defeat, until David had 
 taken compassion on his twenty-five years 
 of failure, and appointed him a deputy.
 
 A NEW DEAL. 175 
 
 In politics talk is costly, silence is valu- 
 able. To know just how much to say, and 
 how to say it, is beyond the price of rubies 
 and fine jewels. 
 
 David was not in a hurry to open the 
 conversation. This increased Powderdry's 
 anxiety. 
 
 " What I tell you shall not be mentioned 
 to a soul ? " said David. 
 
 " I promise that faithfully." 
 
 " Well, Short and Presford lodged a com- 
 plaint against you." David spoke slowly. 
 
 Powderdry was nervous. " Against me ! " 
 he exclaimed. 
 
 "Yes, against you. And they said that 
 you must be discharged." David looked 
 across the room. 
 
 "And you you " began Powderdry, 
 fearing the worst. 
 
 " Well ah " 
 
 Powderdry thought it was true. He arose 
 and gasped : " You don't mean to say, David, 
 that you you Why, man, it would be 
 ruin to me ! I 've chased the phantom of 
 politics until I 'm bankrupt, with only this 
 salary to keep my family alive. It would 
 be ruin, I tell you." 
 
 "They are the bosses, you know," said 
 David, quite calmly.
 
 176 A NEW DEAL. 
 
 " But you did you could you say 
 yes ? " 
 
 " No, not exactly. I told them that they 
 might go to the devil." 
 
 The effect was unnatural, but the major 
 always was of an emotional temperament, 
 and the tears seemed to come in spite of his 
 gray hairs. He really cried, and David 
 sat there with a smile on his face as if he 
 enjoyed it. 
 
 " Come now, Powderdry," said he, coax- 
 ingly, "don't take on so. It's a very little 
 matter. We've been brought down here 
 as a pair of country bumpkins, and we 've 
 got to take care of ourselves. The trouble 
 with you is that you talk too much. Just 
 shut down on yourself. Politics is a game 
 of bluff and silence, and the less you say 
 and the calmer you look, the more you get." 
 
 The major's tears disappeared. " David, 
 you are right." 
 
 " You have been saying some things about 
 affairs here in town," continued the sheriff. 
 " When you do that again, show discretion. 
 If you are asked about the court-house 
 crowd, don't use too many words. They 
 might inconvenience you. Appear myste- 
 rious, and so forth, and so forth, and you 
 will get the same effect. And about the
 
 A NEW DEAL. 177 
 
 sheriff's office, don't boast too much, but 
 just say that Gad is attending to his work, 
 and is refusing to play into the hands of 
 the legal sharps, and mention a few instances 
 where we have saved farmers. But while 
 you are about it, put in a good word for 
 Senator Boone, as the best friend the people 
 ever had in the Legislature." 
 
 The bosses did not like Gad's indepen- 
 dence. It injured their plans. It took away 
 certain revenues that they had enjoyed. 
 The mortgage-holders and note-shavers 
 found that they no longer had a subservient 
 tool. Colonel Short was especially sore. 
 He did not have his usual monopoly of 
 business. And yet David was wise enough 
 to give him a share of it. Still, the circum- 
 stances were serious enough to cause Short 
 and Presford to meet and talk over the 
 situation. 
 
 But Sheriff Gad became remarkably cir- 
 cumspect in his conduct. He earned the 
 respect and esteem of the town people, and as 
 he spent much of his time in driving around 
 the districts, the villagers and farmers soon 
 got to know him better than any one else in 
 the county. He was always polite, always 
 attentive, and always willing to do any 
 favors that were in his power. More than 
 12
 
 178 A NEW DEAL. 
 
 that, the country folks, when they came to 
 town, found a good home-welcome at his 
 house, and Ruth presided over the hospital- 
 ities with that grace and simplicity that 
 charmed all her guests. She helped the 
 women with their shopping, and pleased the 
 men by her interest in their families. " The 
 Gads are nice people," said the country 
 visitors. " They are always glad to see us, 
 and they are not uppish like the other folks 
 in town." 
 
 And so matters went along through the 
 summer. In the fall the campaign was 
 unimportant, but in it Sheriff Gad was a 
 worker. While the vote, as in all off years, 
 was light elsewhere, the full party strength 
 was polled in the upper districts, from which 
 David had come. 
 
 In February the plans for the great elec- 
 tion began, the election of the county 
 officers, including the clerk, whose term of 
 office was six years. Candidates sprang up 
 from every part of the county. By March 
 there were enough to fill the places four 
 times over. The bosses welcomed all, but 
 showed no preferences. In April Sheriff 
 Gad was invited to a conference at Colonel 
 Short's office. Presford was there. So was 
 Carr.
 
 A NEW DEAL. 179 
 
 " We are going to have a big fight this 
 fall," said Colonel Short, " the biggest fight 
 we have ever had, and it looks to me that 
 we must get as much new material on the 
 ticket as we can. What do you think, Mr. 
 Gad ? " 
 
 " Oh, I 'm a new hand in politics, colonel," 
 said David, deprecatingly. " These other 
 gentlemen have more experience than I 
 have. What do you think, Mr. Presford ? " 
 
 " I prefer to bow to Colonel Short. He 
 knows more about it than all the rest of us, 
 I fear," declared Presford. 
 
 " In some way, I know not how," Colonel 
 Short said, " the people in the county have 
 got the idea that we folks in town are trying 
 to run the party, and they seem to think 
 that they ought to have a larger say in the 
 management. Now I propose that we dis- 
 tribute the ticket so as to cover the county. 
 To do that we should have to skip several 
 districts, and as Sussex has had the sheriff's 
 office for two years, I thought, Mr. Gad, 
 that you might be willing to help us 
 out." 
 
 David stopped twirling his thumbs, and 
 glanced at the men before him. 
 
 " Do I understand, gentlemen, that the 
 ticket is to be entirely new ? "
 
 l8o A NEW DEAL. 
 
 " Well, mostly new, as new as we can 
 make it," replied Short. 
 
 " I suppose, Mr. Presford, that you will 
 decline a renomination ? " 
 
 The question was slyly put, and it almost 
 staggered the conference. 
 
 " Well ah I will do what I can for 
 the good of the party, Mr. Gad; but of 
 course I shall remain in the hands of my 
 friends." 
 
 Evidently Presford was embarrassed. 
 
 " Of course," said David, sotto voce. 
 
 " Now look here, Gad," put in Short, 
 changing his manner, " give up this office 
 for two years, and after that we '11 have 
 something a great deal better for you." 
 
 David strangled the smile before it reached 
 the surface. 
 
 " We gave this place one of the best in 
 the county to you, you know." 
 
 " Yes, you did you gave it freely and 
 the gift cost me twelve hundred and fifty 
 dollars." 
 
 " We could n't help that," said the colonel ; 
 " it 's politics." 
 
 " Well," asked David again, " if I retire, 
 what assurance will I have that you will 
 remember your promise two years from 
 now ? "
 
 A NEW DEAL. l8l 
 
 " You have our word." 
 
 " Gentlemen, pardon me, but I don't like 
 the security," said the sheriff as he arose. 
 " I prefer to follow the example of Mr. 
 Presford, and remain in the hands of my 
 friends." 
 
 " That is base ingratitude," declared Col- 
 onel Short. 
 
 " No, colonel ; it 's politics." 
 
 When David left, the door closed upon 
 three silent men. They were in that some- 
 what uncomfortable state in which no one 
 knows exactly what to say. The colonel 
 arose, went to the window, and then turning 
 suddenly, blurted out, 
 
 He 's a d fool." 
 
 " That 's what we get for putting such a 
 dunce in politics," said Presford, as he threw 
 his cigar in the coal-scuttle. " We Ve im- 
 ported him from the backwoods, and now 
 he thinks that he is the biggest man in the 
 county." 
 
 Carr, who had been a silent listener to 
 everything, got up and jammed his hat on 
 the back of his head. 
 
 " Carr, what do you think ? " asked Short. 
 
 "I think," said Carr, musingly, "that 
 you Ve got a nice large white elephant 
 named Gad on your hands, and that if you
 
 1 82 A NEW DEAL. 
 
 don't feed him well he '11 bu'st up your 
 show." 
 
 David went directly home, and retired to 
 his room. He sat by the window poring 
 over a map, making notes, and jotting down 
 names. Then, with his data, he threw him- 
 self on the bed. He did not sleep, but with 
 his eyes wide open added occasionally to his 
 memoranda. One hour afterwards he arose, 
 and all the hard lines disappeared from his 
 face. When he went downstairs he was 
 buoyant and smiling. 
 
 " Been asleep ? " asked Ruth. 
 
 " No, dear ; just resting, and making out 
 my route. I 've got to go away on business 
 for several days." 
 
 " Senator Boone 's going away too, to- 
 morrow, and Mrs. Boone was saying she 
 did not know what she should do." 
 
 " Ask her to come and stay with you. I '11 
 go over after supper and take the invitation 
 myself." 
 
 He went. The invitation was delivered 
 and accepted. Presently the senator and 
 David retired to the library. Their confer- 
 ence was long and earnest. David asked 
 the fullest details of the boss management. 
 Every trick, every resource, was explained 
 by the senator.
 
 A NEW DEAL. 183 
 
 " Now, senator," said David, " one more 
 point. Will you go to the Senate again ? " 
 
 " I will not make a contest for a nomina- 
 tion, nor will I spend anything for the elec- 
 tion," he replied. " If the people want me, 
 they can nominate and elect me. I '11 de- 
 liver speeches and explain my views, but I 
 won't pay a cent of blackmail to a lot of 
 swindlers who call themselves managers." 
 
 " That 's all I want to know," said Da- 
 vid. "Just stick to that position and say 
 nothing." 
 
 David started out the next morning bright 
 and early. For nearly a week he was travel- 
 ling from store to store, from house to house, 
 from district to district. Everywhere he was 
 holding conferences, and his invariable ex- 
 planation of his visits was business. When 
 he returned, Major Powderdry was sent out 
 on another round of official duty. The peo- 
 ple began to pour into town for their spring 
 shopping, and the Gad house became their 
 rendezvous. It made no difference how 
 many visitors there were, Ruth always had 
 room for more. 
 
 Weeks were passing, and it was drawing 
 near the busy season of politics. The bosses 
 laid aside their social exclusiveness and be- 
 gan their electioneering hospitality. Even
 
 1 84 A NEW DEAL. 
 
 the Presfords unbent, and little Dickey Bin- 
 son was polite to everybody. Colonel Short 
 and Mr. Presford made their tour of the 
 county, but while they were well received, 
 they seemed to miss something. They could 
 not tell just what it was. 
 
 David doubled his activity. He was at a 
 different church every Sunday, at the festi- 
 vals and picnics and camp-meetings, saying 
 little, but saying it well, and being generous 
 when generosity was wise. If two events 
 conflicted in the date, David was at one 
 place, Powderdry at the other. 
 
 And so it went until the week before the 
 primary election. David came back to town 
 " Come in, stranger," was the way Ruth 
 welcomed him and the political atmos- 
 phere was full of latent excitement. Boss 
 Short, doubtful about something and sus- 
 picious of the possibility of a defection in 
 the ranks, sent for Sheriff Gad. 
 
 " Tell the colonel that he can find me at 
 home," was the reply to the messenger ; but 
 before the man got to the gate he rushed 
 out and shouted, " Never mind, I 'm going 
 down that way. It 's better for me to go," 
 he added to himself. 
 
 When he entered Short's office he saw 
 that the colonel was ill at ease. He himself 
 was calm.
 
 A NEW DEAL. 185 
 
 " Colonel," he said, after the civilities were 
 exchanged, " I believe that you sent for me." 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Gad," replied Short, in his best 
 voice. " We want to see what you will do for 
 us if we let you have a renomination." 
 
 "In what way? " 
 
 "Well, the usual way, of course. You 
 have n't been treating us fairly. You 've 
 been sending business to Boone and Can- 
 that ought to have come to me, and within 
 the past eight weeks you have made me lose 
 money by not acting at once in matters that 
 I placed in your hands." 
 
 " My understanding, colonel, is that I am 
 sheriff of the county, and not of any one 
 person." 
 
 " Of course you are - - of course you are. 
 You don't understand me; so let the mat- 
 ter drop. You want to be renominated. 
 Now, you understand that ! Well, you shall 
 have it if you will help us with the rest of 
 the ticket." 
 
 " I 'm much obliged to you, colonel, but I 
 do not care for it." David said this quietly, 
 but it had an enormous effect on the colonel. 
 Losing his customary control, he jumped up 
 and shouted, - 
 
 " Then what, in Heaven's name, do you 
 want ? "
 
 1 86 A NEW DEAL. 
 
 " That 's my business," replied the sheriff. 
 
 " It shall be mine too," answered the 
 colonel ; " and if you do not help us out 
 now, you'll have to suffer for it." 
 
 " Don't bite off too much, you might not 
 be able to chew it," said David, with great 
 deliberation. 
 
 Short recovered his equipoise, and with 
 evident sarcasm replied, " Thank you very 
 much for your advice." 
 
 " Oh, you 're welcome ; " and David bowed 
 low and left the office. 
 
 On his way down the street he met Carr, 
 who thanked him for having sent certain 
 clients to his office. David drew him aside. 
 
 " Carr," he said, " if I were you I would 
 keep hands off for the next few days. Take 
 my advice and lay low; and don't say I 
 told you." 
 
 Carr was a good lawyer, which is to say 
 that he was a man of large policy and elabo- 
 rate prudence. 
 
 David hurried home and resumed the work 
 that he had left. He went over it carefully, 
 and then, when he summed up his results, he 
 took the names and figures over to Senator 
 Boone. The Senator scanned them criti- 
 cally. 
 
 " It looks all right," he said.
 
 A NEW DEAL. 187 
 
 But David did not rest with appearances. 
 He was busy laying out new schemes, ex- 
 haustless in checkmating possible combina- 
 tions of the court-house crowd. 
 
 The primaries were held. That night the 
 news of them came to town. David was ap- 
 parently unconcerned. Colonel Short and 
 Mr. Presford were in doubt. They knew the 
 men elected, but beyond that nothing. 
 
 Following closely on the heels of the pri- 
 maries came the convention. People from 
 every section scented excitement, and they 
 congregated in full force to see the fun. 
 David was up at six o'clock. Ruth had 
 laid in a heavy supply of food, with turkeys 
 fat and tender, and home-made pies that 
 pleased the taste so thoroughly that their 
 indigestibility was forgiven. 
 
 Around the court-house groups began to 
 gather. The roads leading to town pulsated 
 with life. The streets became animated and 
 noisy. Colonel Short's office had its doors 
 wide open, with a welcome in the front room 
 and a supply of demijohns in the rear. Mr. 
 Presford paraded with his abundant polite- 
 ness, and all the politicians and workers 
 greeted the delegates with cordial hand- 
 shakes and invitations to " wash the dust 
 out of their throats."
 
 1 88 A NEW DEAL. 
 
 The more Colonel Short canvassed the 
 situation, the less he liked it. The delegates 
 had come to town with ideas of what they 
 wanted, and what they wanted did not har- 
 monize with the court-house programme. 
 His demand that Gad should be turned 
 down met with little favor. The delegates 
 did not go to his office to see him as they 
 once did. He had to seek them. In his 
 perturbation he ran against Mr. Presford. 
 
 " What does it mean ? " Presford asked. 
 
 " What does what mean? " 
 
 " Why, all these fellows are conferring 
 with Gad in the jury-room." 
 
 The time for the assembling of the conven- 
 tion arrived. Promptly the people filed into 
 the big court-room and filled the benches. 
 Delegates began to drop in. Reporters and 
 secretaries took their seats. Everything was 
 ready. 
 
 Just as the presiding officer rapped for 
 order, Colonel Short, by a back stairway, 
 entered the jury-room, and stood face to 
 face with Sheriff Gad. The other people 
 had gone to hear the proceedings. 
 
 Short motioned to Gad, and without a 
 word both men stepped to the alcove of the 
 window farthest from the door leading to 
 the convention. Short jumped at once into
 
 A NEW DEAL. 189 
 
 the purpose of his call, and there was anger 
 in his voice. 
 
 " I want to warn you, Mr. Gad, that if 
 you attempt any of your tricks to-day you '11 
 suffer for them." 
 
 " Are you sure of it ? " asked David. 
 
 " Yes ; and if you have any prudence, you 
 will take your renomination and help us out 
 with our slate." 
 
 David put his thumbs in his vest and 
 looked the colonel straight in the eye. 
 " Colonel Short," he said, slowly and im- 
 pressively, "you and your crowd are beaten 
 out of your boots." 
 
 The usual self-control of the colonel dis- 
 appeared. He flushed, and answered angrily, 
 " I don't believe it." 
 
 " You Ve got to believe it," said David, 
 earnestly. 
 
 Short's brow darkened. He began to 
 speak : " I say that you " 
 
 But before he completed the sentence 
 somebody opened the door, and just that 
 instant a delegate called for cheers for 
 Boone and Gad. The response that came, 
 reinforced as it was by a cry of " Down with 
 the note-shavers and up with honest men ! " 
 seemed to shake the building. 
 
 It shook it enough to break the slate that
 
 190 A NEW DEAL. 
 
 Short thought he was holding in his hand, 
 and to silence the insult that was trembling 
 on his lips. 
 
 " If this is true, it 's trickery," he exclaimed, 
 " it 's base ingratitude, and I '11 break up that 
 convention if I have to die for it." 
 
 He started to go, but David got in his 
 way, and laid his hands on him. 
 
 " No, you won't," he said. 
 
 "Take your hands off," Short shouted, 
 hoarsely. 
 
 " If you go into that room, I '11 expose all 
 the crookedness that has been going on in 
 this court-house ; I will, so help me God ! " 
 
 Colonel Short staggered back to the al- 
 cove. " What do you mean ? " he demanded. 
 
 " Never mind what I mean or what I 
 know, but it is more than enough. The 
 question is whether or not you want to get 
 out of your wreck in decent shape. I don't 
 want to be too hard on you. I 'm willing to 
 do what I can for your man Stinson for 
 sheriff, if you will let Carr, as your repre- 
 sentative, nominate me." 
 
 Short's curiosity got the better of his 
 anger. 
 
 " Nominate you ? For what ? " he asked. 
 
 " For clerk of the court," said David, 
 quietly.
 
 A NEW DEAL. 19! 
 
 " For clerk of the court ! " Short repeated, 
 as if dumfounded. " Why, what 's to be- 
 come of Presford ? " 
 
 " I 'm sorry to say," replied David, with a 
 calm, cool smile, " that Mr. Presford stands 
 no more show in that convention than a 
 morning-glory in a January blizzard." 
 
 People spoke of the convention as one of 
 the most harmonious that they had ever 
 known, and they always alluded to Carr's 
 speech nominating David Gad as a master- 
 piece which was almost if not quite equal to 
 the splendid address which Senator Boone 
 delivered in accepting the nomination for the 
 Senate as the representative of the people. 
 
 When David came to dinner on the day 
 that he transferred himself from the shriev- 
 alty to the clerk's office, he found a feast. 
 
 " I thought you ought to have it," said 
 Ruth, in reply to his compliments. "It 
 shows how glad I am that we are fixed to 
 stay in town for six years more." 
 
 "Well," said David, "you did it. If it 
 had n't been for your good dinners and 
 shopping trips with the country folks, we 
 never could have won." 
 
 " How did you get along to-day ? " asked 
 Ruth. 
 
 " Splendidly. I appointed Powderdry my
 
 192 A NEW DEAL. 
 
 chief deputy. The next thing I did was to 
 discharge Dickey Binson, and I 've felt good 
 ever since." 
 
 " How was Mr. Presford ? " 
 
 " As polite as a preacher to a rich trustee. 
 In fact, my dear, I really think that if the 
 De Presfords should have another reception 
 they would invite the De Gads." 
 
 It was the first time the matter had ever 
 been mentioned by either of them. But 
 Ruth understood it. 
 
 " And the De Gads," David went on, 
 " would regret extremely that they were un- 
 able to accept the polite invitation of Mr. 
 and Mrs. De Presford. That 's the way it 
 runs, is n't it, Ruth ? " 
 
 " Yes, David. At least, that 's what the 
 ' Hand-Book of Etiquette ' says."
 
 The printing <voas done 
 at the University Press 
 
 . in Cambridge for 
 STONE & KIMBALL of 
 Chicago and Cambridge 
 
 . March, 1894
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 MAYO 6 1991, 
 
 607n-7,'69 (N296s4) G-120
 
 PS2378. M473R 
 
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