"Goon!" "Goon!" "Ki-yi!" "Yip-yip!"

Such are the flattering outbursts. Why does the orator pause?

His head quakes and vibrates, his face grows black, the mouth opens into a parallelogram, the sharp little tongue plays about the ma.s.s of black tobacco.

The convention leaps to its feet. The Sneeze has come.

"That settles it!" cry the delegates. "Bounce any man that'll do such a thing as that! Fire him out!"

The irresistible movement has reached Corkey's eyrie. Four faithful Corkeyites are holding Corkey's platform. The a.s.sault on these supports, these Atlases, brings the collapse of Corkey. He goes down fighting, and he fights like a hero. One of the toughs who saw Corkey put away his revolver at the primary is badly battered before he can retreat.

The melee is a good-sized one. "It is to be observed," writes the keen-eyed reporters, "that the consumption of peanuts rises to its maximum during the purgation of a convention."

The convention is purged. The fumes of whisky and tobacco increase.

The crash of peanuts ceases. The committee on credentials reports.

Harmony is to be the watchword. In this interest it has been agreed to seat four Harpwood delegates and eight Lockwin delegates in each of the contests.

Although the Harpwood delegates howl with indignation, it is only a howl. None of them go out. They will all vote. But their votes will not affect the nomination. If otherwise, the convention can be again purged and the correct result established. That would be b.l.o.o.d.y and difficult. Wait until it shall be necessary.

"It is one of the workings of the status quo," writes the reporter of the single-tax weekly, "that friction is everywhere reduced to the minimum of the system. There is little waste of b.l.o.o.d.y noses in politics."

"It is getting past dinner time. Why not be through with this? What is the matter?"

These are the questions of the sidewalk inspectors, who perhaps ache to return to their other public duties.

"It is Corkey's fault--Corkey's fault! But here's the platform, now!"

"We point with the finger of scorn--" reads the clerk in a great voice.

"That's the stuff!" respond the faithful, shaking hands one with another.

"Order!" scream the bouncers and police. They desire to hear the platform. It is the hinge on which liberty hangs. It is the bra.s.s idol of politics.

"And the peace, prosperity and general happiness of the American people will ever remain dear to the party which saved the union and now reaches a fraternal hand across the b.l.o.o.d.y chasm!" So reads the clerk.

"That's what! We win on that! They can't answer to that!"

"We demand a free ballot and a fair count!"

"No more bulldozing!" exclaims the bouncer who has heard the plank.

"We guarantee to the sovereign electors of the First district, and to the whole population of the nation a reform of the civil service and an entire abolition of the spoils system."

"I suppose," says the bouncer, "that things is going on too open in Washington."

The reading ceases.

"Ki-yi!" "Hooray!" "He-e-e-e-e-e!" "Zip-zip-zippee!"

There is a crash of peanuts, a tornado of bad air, a tempest of wild and joyous noise.

"The platform was received with genuine enthusiasm. It was adopted without a dissenting voice." Thus the reporters write hurriedly.

There has been an uproar ever since the question was put. Now, if the delegate quicken his ear, he may hear the chairman commanding:

"All those in favor will vote 'aye!'"

Again there is the tempest. The Harpwood delegates have voted aye!

"What is it?" ask most of the delegates.

"Lockwin is nominated by acclamation," comes the answer from the front.

"Oh, is he?" say the delegates, Harpwood men and all.

There is a numerous outgo for liquor. A man is escorted to the stage.

He is cheered by those who see him. Most of the leading delegates are bargaining for places on the central committee. The Harpwood men are to be taken care of.

The speech goes on. "It is," says the orator, "the proudest day of my life, I a.s.sure you."

"Do you suppose he's gone broke?" inquire the committee men.

"It is the matchless character of our inst.i.tutions--" continues the candidate.

"We'd be done up if the other fellows should indorse Corkey," says a hungry saloon-keeper.

"--The matchless character of our inst.i.tutions that the people hold the reins of government."

The orator is gathering an audience. "The people" are hungry, but love of oratory is a still weaker place in their armor. The voice rises.

The eye flashes. The cheeks turn crimson. The form straightens.

The orator weeps and he thunders.

"Hi--_hi_!" says the hungry saloon-keeper, in sudden admiration.

"America! My fellow-countrymen, it is the palm of the desert--the rock of liberty.

"We have a weapon firmer set, And better than the bayonet; A weapon that comes down as still As snowflakes fall upon the sod; But executes a freeman's will As lightning does the will of G.o.d."

The effect is electric.

"Jiminy!" whistles the hungry saloonkeeper, "ain't we lucky we put him up? I could sell fifty kag if he spoke anywhere in the same block."

CHAPTER IX

THE NIGHT BEFORE ELECTION