And so at last, in the process of making the fortress impregnable, the big wall falls and "the unders" come into the citadel.

Chairman Presson would not allow that the situation in that year of reform unrest was as bad as the "unders" seemed to think. But he was worried because he was finding all men liars. And when men are lying and marking time in politics and glancing over their shoulders, look out for the stampede!

In a stampede "a logical candidate" is the first one to be trampled on.

This one was threatened in earnest.

His opponent in his own party was Protest walking on two legs and thundering anathema through a mat of mustaches that made him a marked figure in any throng. His enemies called him "Fog-horn" Spinney; his admirers considered him a silver-tongued orator. As a professional organizer of leagues, clubs, orders, and societies he knew by their first names men enough to elect him if he could be nominated. And Arba Spinney's methods may be known from the fact that once he got enough votes to make him a State Senator by asking his auditors at each rally to feel of the lumps in the corners of their ready-made vests. A man who is fingering the sheddings of shoddy feels like voting for the candidate who declares that he will make a sheep a respectable member of society once more.

As "a logical candidate," David Everett, ending his four years as a member of the Governor's executive council, was the refinement of political grooming. And he was "safe." A well-organized political machine has no use for any other sort!

Arba Spinney, vociferous, rank outsider, apostrophizing the "tramp of the cowhide boots," reckless in his denunciation of every man who held office, promising everything that would catch a vote, urging overturn for the sake of overturn and a new deal, marked the other extreme. For the ma.s.s, Change, labelled Reform, seems wholly desirable. Political sagacity saw trouble ahead. And no one in the State was politically more sagacious than Thelismer Thornton, who had seen men come and seen men go, and knew all their moods and fancies.

On the morning that the State chairman hurried out of Fort Canibas he discussed the matter of the rival candidates with the old man--that is to say, he talked and Thornton listened. And the more the chairman talked, the more his own declarations convinced him.

"Why, the old bull fiddle can't fool the convention, Thelismer. He's running around the State now, and they're listening to him like they'd listen to a steam calliope, but what he says don't amount to anything for an argument. It's the pledged delegates that count."

The old man drew a fat, black wallet from his hip pocket, and leisurely extracted a packet of newspaper clippings.

"I've been watching the lists of delegates as they've been chosen, Luke.

But I fail to see where you're getting pledged delegations."

"They don't need to be pledged, not the men our town committees are picking."

"Your town committees may be picking the men for delegates, but it is the caucus that does the pledging. And the delegates are being sent out without labels. You don't dare to insist on the pledges--now, do you?"

"You know as well as I do, Thelismer, there's no need of shaking the red rag this year. We're making a different play. We've been having our newspapers drum hard on the tune: 'Leave it out to the people.' It'll be Everett all right in the convention, but we don't want to seem to be prying open their jaws and jamming him down their throats."

Thornton fingered his clippings.

"Luke, I thought you realized yesterday after that caucus of mine was over just how sick your State campaign is. But you've started in hollering now to try to convince yourself that it isn't so. You can't afford to do that. I've been in this thing longer than you have. I've seen the symptoms before. I recognize the signs of a stampede. That convention will be ripe for one. And you know what will happen to Dave Everett, once they get started! You and I know there ain't a thing that can be said for him except that he's the residuary legatee of all the machine politics that's been played in this State for the last twenty-five years. That's between us, and you and I might as well talk the thing as it is. She's balancing, Luke. She's right up on end. And there'll be enough old wind-bags in that convention to get up a devil of a breeze. They'll blow her over."

The State chairman had started to leave, after his declaration. His automobile was purring at the foot of the steps. But he turned his back on the expectant chauffeur, and tramped onto the porch.

"You don't mean to tell me that 'Fog-horn' Spinney is a dangerous candidate, do you?"

"No, but Everett _is_! It happens once in so often, Luke--a situation like this. Everett is lugging too much. Last fire we had in the village here Ed Stilson tried to lug an old-fashioned bureau on his back and a feather tick in his teeth, but he couldn't get through the door."

"Thelismer, why have you waited till now before saying this? I'd rather have your judgment in political futures than that of any other man in this State. But this is a d.a.m.nation poor time to be getting around to me with it."

"We had a caucus here yesterday, Luke, I'd only been suspecting till then. In politics I'm quite a fellow to judge the whole piece in the web by a sample. And I tell you Everett is going to make a dangerous proposition for us!"

Presson stared at him for a full minute, blinking, thinking, knotting his brows, and chewing fiercely on a piece of gum.

"Pull him out--that what you mean? Well, it can be done. There are plenty of men in the party that are all safe and right, but haven't been identified with the machine."

"And what will you say to Dave Everett and his friends, all of whom you'll need at the polls?"

"It's a party exigency, isn't it?"

"It can be called that--and you can call a skunk 'Kitty' on your way home from the club, but that fact won't change your wife's opinion of you when you come in. You walk up to Dave Everett now with your political exigency in your hand, Luke, and it would turn to a political _ax_egency, and you'd have a pack of rebels on your back that would down you sure! No, sir! You can't afford to smash a man that way."

"Then we'll ram him through the convention, reformers or no reformers!"

"You haven't got your crowd."

"Thelismer, you're right! I wouldn't have admitted it yesterday, but after seeing how they came roaring up against you, I'm scared. I'm going to pull Everett out of the fight and set up another man--one of the young and liberal fellows. I'll do it within twenty-four hours!"

The Duke replaced his clippings and shoved the big wallet into his pocket.

"Sudden remedies are sometimes good in extreme cases, Luke," he drawled, "but administering knockout drops to a sick party is not to be recommended."

The chairman's patience left him then.

"What kind of a trick is this, standing up here at the eleventh hour and putting the knife into your party?" he demanded, wrathfully.

"I had a dog once, Luke, that was snapping at flies in general as he was lying on the porch here, and he snapped at a brown hackle fly that was. .h.i.tched onto a fish-line. And he ran off down the road with a hook in his mouth and sixty yards of line and a pole following him. You'd better spit out that last fly, Luke. Now will you take a little advice from me, on the condition that I'll follow up that advice with some practical help?"

"That's what I'm waiting for."

"Then you get back onto your job, and leave Everett just where he is--not one word to him or his friends. That's the advice part. The help will come when I've got a few things straightened out a little more."

"The convention is less than three weeks off. What's your plan? I want to know it now."

"Well, you won't."

"Do you think for a moment that I, the chairman of the Republican State Committee, am going into a convention with blinders on?"

"You can go in any way you want to," retorted the Duke, calmly. "But that's all you're going to hear from me to-day, Luke. Faith without works is no good. You furnish the faith, and I'll furnish the works."

"I never heard of any such devilish campaign management as this,"

grumbled the chairman. "You're talking to me as though I didn't know any more politics than a village hog-reeve."

"Well, I'm the doctor in this case, providing I'm called," said the old man. "Just now I'm feeling of the pulse and making the diagnosis, and am getting ready to prescribe the dose. I'll call you into consultation, Luke, when the right time comes, and I'll guarantee that nothing will leak out to wound your pride or your political reputation. But I want to say that if you stand here to-day waiting to hear any more about what I intend to do, you'd better shut off that automobile. You won't be leaving for quite a spell."

The chairman knew his man. He trotted down the steps and got into his car.

"When you get ready to let me know how you're running this campaign, you'll find me at headquarters," he said, wrathfully, by way of farewell. Then he departed, with the news of how Thelismer Thornton was still boss of the northern princ.i.p.ality--but that Thelismer Thornton, Nestor of State politicians, had calmly arrogated to himself the sole handling of the biggest question in State politics, the chairman kept to himself. He was in too desperate straits to rebel at that time.

Furthermore, he knew that Thelismer Thornton in the years past had served as kedge for many a political craft that a lee sh.o.r.e threatened.

He was measurably contented, after reflection, to have the old man take the thing into his own hands in that masterful fashion.

The Duke pulled his chair to the end of the porch, where he could look across to the far hills beyond the river. He lighted one of his long cigars, put his feet on the rail, and began to smoke, squinting thoughtfully, pondering deeply.

To all practical intents and purposes he was holding there on the porch of "The Barracks" the next State convention of the Republican party. The birds were busy about the old blockhouse opposite, coming and going. He seemed to be studying their movements through his half-open eyes, as though they were prospective delegates. And at last a grim smile of satisfaction fixed itself upon his face.

His grandson found him in this amiable mood when he came with the losers by the Jo Quacca fire. Each man submitted his list rather defiantly.

They sat down and scowled while Harlan told what he had discovered in his investigation of the circ.u.mstances.

"I have not tried to beat them down," he concluded. "I even reminded them of a few items they had overlooked. What happened yesterday was enough to make almost any man forget things."