The Judge's family affairs were in no way related to the nomination, as the youth saw the case. Yet they were affecting the cams and cogs and pulleys of young Mr. Perry's love affairs, and he felt the matter must be repaired, and put in running order. For he knew that love affair was the mainspring of his life. And the mechanic in him--the Yankee that talked in his rasping, high-keyed tenor voice, that shone from his thin, lean face, and cadaverous body, the Yankee in him, the dreaming, sentimental Yankee, half poet and half tinker, fell upon the problem with unbending will and open mind.

So it came to pa.s.s that there entered into the affairs of Judge Thomas Van Dorn, an element upon which he did not calculate. For he was dealing only with the material elements of a material universe!

When Nathan Perry came to Brotherton's he sat down in the midst of a discussion of the Judgeship that began in rather etherial terms. For Doctor Nesbit was saying:

"Amos, I've got you cornered if you consider the visible universe. She works like a watch; she's as predestined as a corn sh.e.l.ler. But let me tell you something--she isn't all visible. There's something back of matter--there's another side to the shield. I know mighty well there's a time when my medicine won't help sick folks--and yet they get well. I've seen a great love flame up in a man's heart or a woman's heart or a child's in a bed of torture, and when medicine wouldn't take hold I've seen love burn through the wall between the worlds, and I have seen help come just as sure as you see the Harvey Hook and Ladder Company coming rattling down Market Street! Funny old world--funny old world--seventy rides around the sun--and then the fireworks." After puffing away to revive his pipe he said: "I sort of got into this way of thinking recently going over this judgeship fight." He smoked meditatively then broke out, "Lord, Lord, what an iron-clad, hog-tight, rock-ribbed, copper-riveted material proposition it is that Tom is putting up. He's bound self-interest with self-interest everywhere. He and Joe Calvin have roped old man Sands in, and every material interest in this whole district is tied up in the Van Dorn candidacy. I'm a child in a cyclone in this fight. The self-interest of the county candidates, of all the deputies who hope two years from now to be county candidates, and all their friends, every straw boss at the shops, in the smelters, in the mines--and all the men who are near them and want to be straw bosses, every merchant who is caught in the old spider's web with a ninety-day note; every street-car conductor, every employee of the light company, every man at the waterworks plant, every man at the gas plant, the telephone linemen--every human being that dances in the great woof of this little spider's web feels the pull of devilish material power."

Amos Adams threw back his grizzled head in a laugh that failed to vocalize. "Well, Jim, according to your account you're liable to get burned and singed and disfigured until you're as useless in politics as this old Amos Adams--the spook chaser!"

There was no bitterness in Amos Adams's voice. "It's all right, Jim--I have no complaint to make against life. Forty years ago Dan Sands got the first girl I ever loved. I went to war; he paid his bounty and married the girl. That was a long time ago. I often think of the girl--it's no lack of faith to Mary. And I have the memory of the war--of that Day at Peach Tree Creek with all the wonderful exulting joy of that charge and what G.o.d gave me to do. This b.u.t.ton," he put his thumb under the Loyal Legion emblem in his warped coat lapel, "this b.u.t.ton is more fragrant than any flower on earth to my heart. Dan Sands has had five wives; he missed the hardship of the war. He has a son by her. Jim," said Amos Adams as he opened his eyes, "if you knew how it has cut into my heart year by year to see the beautiful soul that Hester Haley gave to Morty decay under the blight of his father--but you can't." He sighed. "Yet there is still her soul in him--gentle, kind, trying to do the right thing--but tied and hobbled by life with his father. Grant may be wrong, Doctor," cried the father, raising his hand excitedly, "he may be crazy, and I know they laugh at him up town here--for a fool and the son of a fool; he certainly doesn't know how he is going to do all the things he dreams of doing--but that is not the point. The important thing is that he is having his dream! For by the Eternal, Jim Nesbit, I'd rather feel that my boy was even a small part of the life force of his planet pushing forward--I'd rather be the father of that boy--I'd rather be old Amos Adams the spook chaser--than Dan Sands with his million. I've been happier, Jim, with the memory of my Mary than he with his five wives. I'd rather be on the point of the drill of life and mangled there, than to have my soul rot in greed."

The Doctor puffed on his pipe. "Well, Amos," he returned quietly, "I suppose if a man wants to get all messed up as one of the points of the drill of life, as you call it--it's easy enough to find a place for the sacrifice. I admire Grant; but someway," his falsetto broke out, "I have thought there was a little something in the bread-and-b.u.t.ter proposition."

"A little, Doctor Jim--but not as much as you'd think!" answered Amos.

"Nevertheless in this fight here in Greeley County, I'm quietly lining up a few county delegates, and picking out a few trusty friends who will show up at the caucuses, and Grant has a handful of crazy Ikes that I am going to use in my business, and if we win it will be a practical proposition--my head against Tom's."

The Doctor rose. Amos Adams stopped him with "Don't be too sure of that, Jim; I got a writing from Mr. Left last night and he says--"

"Hold on, Amos--hold on," squeaked the Doctor's falsetto; "until Mr.

Left is registered in the Third Ward--we won't bother with him until after the convention."

The Doctor left the place smiling at Amos and glancing casually at young Mr. Perry. The dissertation had been a hard strain on the practical mind of young Mr. Perry, and while he was fumbling his way through the mazes of what he had heard, Amos Adams left the shop and another practical man very much after Nathan Perry's own heart came in. Daniel Sands had no cosmic problems on his mind with which to befuddle young Perry. Daniel Sands was a seedy little old man of nearly three score years and ten; his dull, fishy eyes framed in red lids looked shiftily at one as though he was forever preoccupied in casting up sums in interest. His skin was splotched and dirty, a kind of scale seemed to be growing over it, and his long, thin nose stuck out of his s.h.a.ggy, ill-kept whiskers like a sharp snout, attenuated by rooting in money. When he smiled, which was rarely, the false quality of his smile seemed expressed by his false teeth that were forever falling out of place when he loosed his facial muscles. He walked rather stealthily back to the desk where the proprietor of the shop was working; but he spoke loud enough for Nate Perry's practical ear to comprehend the elder man's mission.

"George, I've got to be out of town for the next ten days, and the county convention will meet when I'm gone." He stopped, and cleared his throat. Mr. Brotherton knew what was coming. "I just called to say that we're expecting you to do all you can for Tom." He paused. Mr.

Brotherton was about to reply when the old man smiled his false smile and added:

"Of course, we can't afford to let our good Doctor's family affairs interfere with business. And George," he concluded, "just tell the boys to put Morty on in my place. And George, you kind of sit by Morty, and see that he gets his vote in right. Morty's a good boy, George--but he someway doesn't get interested in things as I like to see him. He'll be all right if you'll just fix his ballot in the convention and see that he votes it." He blinked his dull, red eyes at the book seller and dropped his voice.

"I noticed your paper as I pa.s.sed the note counter just now; some of it will be due while I'm gone; I'll tell 'em to renew it if you want it."

He smiled again, and Mr. Brotherton answered, "Very well--I'll see that Morty votes right, Mr. Sands," and solemnly went back to his ledger. And thus the practical mind of Nathan Perry had its first practical lesson in practical politics--a lesson which soon afterwards produced highly practical results.

Up and down Market Street tiptoed Daniel Sands that day, tightening his web of business and politics. Busily he fluttered over the web, his water pipes, his gas pipes, his electric wires. The pathway to the trade of the miners and the men in the shops and smelters lay through his door. Material prosperity for every merchant and every clerk in Market Street lay in the paunch of the old spider, and he could spin it out or draw it in as he chose. It was not usual for him to appear on Market Street. Dr. Nesbit had always been his vicegerent. And often it had pleased the Doctor to pretend that he was seeking their aid as friends and getting it solely upon the high grounds of friendship.

But as the Doctor stood by his office window that day and saw the old spider dancing up and down the web, Dr. Nesbit knew the truth--and the truth was wormwood in his mouth--that he had been only an errand boy between greed in the bank and self-interest in the stores. In a flash, a merciless, cynical flash, he looked into his life in the capital, and there he saw with sickening distinctness that with all his power as a boss, with his control over Senators and Governors and courts and legislatures, he was still the errand boy--that he reigned as boss only because he could be trusted by those who controlled the great aggregations of capital in the state--the railroads, the insurance companies, the brewers, the public service corporations. In the street below walked a flashy youth who went in and out of the saloons in obvious pride of being. His complacent smile, his evident glory in himself, made Dr. Nesbit turn away and shut his eyes in shame. He had loathed the youth as a person unspeakable. Yet the youth also was a messenger--the errand boy of vice in South Harvey who doubtless thought himself a person of great power and consequence. And the difference between an errand boy of greed and the errand boy of vice was not sufficient to revive the Doctor's spirits. So the Doctor, sadly sobered, left the window. The gay enthusiasm of the diver plunging for the pearl was gone from the depressed little white clad figure. He was finding his pearl a burden rather than a joy.

That evening Morty Sands, resplendent in purple and fine linen--the purple being a gorgeous necktie, and the fine linen a most sumptuous tailor-made shirt waist above a pair of white broadcloth trousers and silk hose, and under a fifty dollar Panama hat, tripped into the Brotherton store for his weekly armload of reading and tobacco.

"Morty," said Mr. Brotherton, after the young man had picked out the latest word in literature and nicotine, "your father was in here to-day with instructions for me to chaperone you through the county convention Sat.u.r.day,--you'll be on the delegation."

The young man blinked good naturedly. "I haven't got the intellect to go through with it, George."

"Oh, yes, you have, Morty," returned Mr. Brotherton, expansively. "The Governor wants me to be sure you vote for Van Dorn--that's about all there is in the convention. Old Linen Pants is to name the delegates to the State and congressional conventions--they're trying to let the old man down easy--not to beat him out of his State and congressional leadership."

The young man thought for a moment then smiled up into the big moon-face of Brotherton--"All right, Georgie, I suppose I'll have to cast my unfettered vote for Van Dorn, though as a sporting proposition my sympathies are with the other side."

"Well, say--you orter 'a' heard a talk I heard Doc Nesbit give this afternoon. That old sinner will be shouting on the mourner's bench soon--if he doesn't check up."

Morty looked up from his magazine to say: "George--it's Laura. A man couldn't go with her through all she's gone through without being more of a man for it. When I took a turn in the mining business last spring I found that the people down in South Harvey just naturally love her to death. They'll do more or less for Grant Adams. He's getting the men organized and they look up to him in a way. But they get right down on their marrow bones and love Laura."

Morty smiled reflectively: "I kind of got the habit myself once--and I seem someway never to have got over it--much! But, she won't even look my way. She takes my money--for her kindergarten. But that is all. She won't let me take her home in my trap, nor let me buy her lunch--why she pays more attention to Grant Adams with his steel claw than to my strong right arm! About all she lets me do is distribute flower seeds. George,"

he concluded ruefully, "I've toted around enough touch-me-nots and c.o.xcomb seeds this spring for that girl to paint South Harvey ringed, streaked and striped."

There the conversation switched to Captain Morton's stock company, and the endeavor to get the Household Horse on the market. The young man listened and smiled, was interested, as George Brotherton intended he should be. But Morty went out saying that he had no money but his allowance--which was six months overdrawn--and there the matter rested.

In a few days, a free people arose and nominated their delegates to the Greeley County convention and the night before the event excitement in Harvey was intense. There could be no doubt as to the state of public sentiment. It was against Tom Van Dorn. But on the other hand, no one seriously expected to defeat him. For every one knew that he controlled the organization--even against the boss. Yet vaguely the people hoped that their inst.i.tutions would in some way fail those who controlled, and would thus register public sentiment. But the night the delegates were elected, it seemed apparent that Van Dorn had won. Yet both sides claimed the victory. And among others of the free people elected to the Convention to cast a free vote for Judge Van Dorn, was Nathan Perry. He was put on the delegation to look after his father's interests. Van Dorn was a practical man, Kyle Perry was a practical man and they knew Nate Perry was a practical youth. But while Tom Van Dorn slept upon the a.s.surance of victory, Nate Perry was perturbed.

CHAPTER XXVIII

WHEREIN MORTY SANDS MAKES A FEW SENSIBLE REMARKS IN PUBLIC

When Mortimer Sands came down town Sat.u.r.day morning, two hours before the convention met, he found the courthouse yard black with prospective delegates and also he found that the Judge's friends were in a majority in the crowd. So evident was their ascendancy that the Nesbit forces had conceded to the Judge the right to organize the convention. At eleven o'clock the crowd, merchants, clerks, professional men, working men in their Sunday clothes, delegates from the surrounding country towns, and farmers--a throng of three hundred men, began to crowd into the hot "Opera House." So young Mr. Sands, with his finger in a book to keep his place, followed the crowd to the hall, and took his seat with the Fourth Ward delegation. Having done this he considered that his full duty to G.o.d and man had been performed. He found Nathan Perry sitting beside him and said:

"Well, Nate, here's where Anne's great heart breaks--I suppose?"

Nathan nodded and asked: "I presume it's all over but the shouting."

"All over," answered the elder young man as he dived into his book. As he read he realized that the convention had chosen Captain Morton--a partisan of the Judge--for chairman. The hot, stifling air of the room was thick with the smoke of cheap tobacco. Morty Sands grew nervous and irritated during the preliminary motions of the organization. Even as a sporting event the odds on Van Dorn were too heavy to promote excitement. He went out for a breath of air. When he reentered Judge Van Dorn was making the opening speech of the convention. It was a fervid effort; the Spanish war was then in progress so the speech was full of allusions to what the Judge was pleased to call "libertah" and "our common countrah" and our sacred "dutah" to "humanitah." Naturally the delegates who were for the Judge's renomination displayed much enthusiasm, and it was a noisy moment. When the Judge closed his remarks--tearfully of course--and took his seat as chairman of the Fourth Ward delegation, which was supposed to be for him unanimously as it was his home ward, Morty noticed that while the Judge sat grand and austere in the aisle seat with his eyes partly closed as one who is recovering from a great mental effort, his half-closed eyes were following Mr. Joseph Calvin, who was buzzing about the room distributing among the delegates meal tickets and saloon checks good for food for man and beast at the various establishments of public entertainment.

Morty learned from George Brotherton that as the county officers were to be renominated without opposition, and as the platform had been agreed to the day before, and as the county central committeemen had been chosen the night before at the caucuses, the convention was to be a short horse soon curried. Of course, Captain Morton as permanent chairman made a speech--with suitable eulogies to the boys who wore the blue. It was the speech the convention had heard many times before, but always enjoyed--and as he closed he asked rather grandly, "and now what is the further pleasure of the convention?"

It was Mr. Calvin's pleasure, as expressed in a motion, that the secretary be instructed to cast the vote of the convention for the renomination of the entire county ticket, and further that Senator James Nesbit, in view of his leadership of the party in the State, be requested to name the delegates to the State and congressional conventions and that Judge Thomas Van Dorn--cheers led by d.i.c.k Bowman--Thomas Van Dorn be requested to name the delegates to the judicial district convention. Cheers and many cries of no, no, no, greeted the Calvin motion. It was seconded and stated by the chair and again cheered and roared at. Dr. Nesbit rose, and in his mild, treble voice protested against the naming of the delegates to the State and congressional and judicial conventions. He said that while it had been the practice in the past, he was of the opinion that the time had come to let the Convention itself choose by wards and precincts and townships its delegates to these conventions. He said further that as for the State and congressional delegates, they couldn't pick a delegation of twenty men in the room if they tried, that would not contain a majority which he could work with. At which there was cheering from the anti-Van Dorn crowd--but it was clear that they were in the minority. No further discussion seemed to be expected and the Captain was about to put the motion, when from among the delegates from South Harvey there arose the red poll of Grant Adams. From the Harvey delegates he met the glare of distrust due from any crowd of merchants and clerks to any labor agitator. Morty could see from the face of Dr. Nesbit that he was surprised. Judge Van Dorn, who sat near young Sands, looked mildly interested. After he was recognized, Grant in an impa.s.sioned voice began to talk of the inherent right of the Nesbit motion, providing that each precinct or ward delegation could name its own delegates to the State, congressional and judicial conventions.

If the motion prevailed, Judge Van Dorn would have a divided delegation from Greeley county to the judicial convention, as some of the precincts and wards were against him, though a majority of the united convention was for him. Grant Adams, swinging his iron claw, was explaining this to the convention. He was appealing pa.s.sionately for the right of proportional representation; holding that the minority had rights of representation that the majority should not deny.

Judge Van Dorn, without rising, had sneered across the room in a snarling voice: "Ah, you socialist!" Once he had growled: "None of your red mouthed ranting here!" Finally, as it was evident that Grant's remarks were interesting the workmen on the delegations, Van Dorn, still seated, called out:

"Here, you--what right have you to address this convention?"

"I am a regularly accredited delegate from South Harvey, holding the proxy--"

He got no further.

The Van Dorn delegates roared, "Put him out. No proxies go," and began hooting and jeering. It was obvious that Van Dorn had the crowd with him. He let them roar at Grant, who stood quietly, demanding from time to time that the chair should restore order. Captain Morton hammered the table with his gavel, but the Van Dorn crowd continued to hoot and howl.

Finally Judge Van Dorn rose and with great elaborateness of parliamentary form addressed the chair asking to be permitted to ask his friend with a proxy one question.

The two men faced each other savagely, like characters symbolizing forces in a play; complaisance and discontent. Behind Grant was the unrest and upheaval of a cla.s.s coming into consciousness and tremendously dynamic, while Van Dorn stood for those who had won their fight and were static and self-satisfied. He twirled his mustache. Grant raised his steel claw as if to strike; Van Dorn spoke, and in a barking, vicious, raucous tone intended to annihilate his adversary, asked:

"Will you tell this convention in the interest of fairness, what, if any, personal and private motives you have in helping Dr. Nesbit inject a family quarrel into public matters in this county?"

A moment's silence greeted the lawyer's insolently framed question.

Mortimer Sands saw Dr. Nesbit go white, start to rise, and sit down, and saw dawning on the face of Grant Adams the realization of what the question meant. But before he could speak the mob broke loose; hisses, cheers and the roar of partisan and opposition filled the room. Grant Adams tried to speak; but no one would hear him. He started down the aisle toward Van Dorn, his red hair flashing like a banner of wrath, menacing the Judge with the steel claw upraised. Dr. Nesbit stopped Grant. The insult had been so covert, so cowardly, that only in resenting its implication would there be scandal.

Mortimer Sands closed his book. He saw Judge Van Dorn laugh, and heard him say to George Brotherton who sat beside young Sands: