HIS 
 TO POWER
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 Mrs. Ben B. Lindsey
 
 ! Why didn't you take me in spite of myself ! "
 
 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 BY 
 Henry Russell Miller 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 THE MAN HIGHER UP 
 
 With Illustrations by 
 
 M. Leone Bracker 
 
 N EW YORK 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP 
 
 PUBLISH E RS
 
 COPYRIGHT 1911 
 THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 BOOK I 
 A VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 CHAPTER PAG8 
 
 I MISTS OF THE MORNING ...... i 
 
 II MIRAGE IN THE DESERT 2 
 
 III SUNSET 3* 
 
 IV THE NAZARITE ........ 49 
 
 V EXPLORATIONS 68 
 
 VI THE CALL 88 
 
 VII THE WILDERNESS ROAD 104 
 
 VIII ACROSS THE BORDER 117 
 
 IX THE CRUSADER 126 
 
 X CRITICISMS AND WILES 138 
 
 XI THE PICKET . ' 148 
 
 XII APPLES OF EDEN . 162 
 
 XIII THE PRIME MINISTER 178 
 
 XIV WITH A GREAT PRICE 192 
 
 BOOK II 
 FIGS AND THISTLES 
 
 XV LOCUSTS AND WILD HONEY ..... 205 
 
 XVI THE FORERUNNER ....... 222 
 
 XVII THE FORK OF THE ROAD 237 
 
 XVIII HISTORY 250 
 
 XIX A DESERTED JORDAN 269 
 
 11G6201 
 
 >
 
 CONTENTS Continued 
 
 CHAPTER PAGB 
 
 XX SHADOWS 282 
 
 XXI GOLDEN FLEECE 293 
 
 XXII THE HONEY POT 36 
 
 XXIII THE VULNERABLE HEEL 318 
 
 XXIV WHO PAYS ? 33 
 
 XXV THE BIG LIFE 344 
 
 XXVI SILENCED 363 
 
 XXVII THE PRICE 372
 
 BOOK ONE 
 A VOICE FROM THE WILDERNESS
 
 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 MISTS OF THE MORNING 
 
 IT was twilight still in the valley, but over the hills 
 to the east the sky was whitening. A young man 
 sitting by his window turned to see the birth of an 
 other day. Throughout the night he had been staring 
 at a vision. But weariness had set no mark upon 
 him. His vision he did not understand, save that 
 for him it spelled Opportunity a chance to put 
 into a drifting, rather ordinary existence, purposeful 
 action, to stretch his muscles, rack his brain and tear 
 his soul in the struggle that is the life of men. He 
 was thirty years old, imaginative and enthusiastic ; the 
 fascination of the unknown caught him. With the 
 prodigal courage of youth he burned to begin the 
 struggle, to test his untried strength. His fine face, 
 sensitive to the play of inner emotion, lighted up 
 eagerly. A premonitory thrill passed over him. He 
 had the feeling that in this new day something big, 
 portentous, transforming, awaited him. He watched 
 until the vague black mass looming before him took 
 form as the blue-green hills that he knew. 
 
 I
 
 2 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 " Like order coming out of chaos." 
 
 He caught up a rough towel and stealing quietly 
 out of the house walked rapidly down the street. 
 When the straggling town lay behind him, he broke 
 into a slow trot, padding along over the road with its 
 velvety layer of mist-laid dust, until he was breathing 
 heavily and the sweat had started. At a place where 
 many feet had worn a path across a clover meadow 
 he turned from the road. The path ended at a clump 
 of bushes on the river bank where the shallow Wee- 
 hannock, suddenly deepening, had formed a swim 
 ming-hole for generations of youths. 
 
 Hastily undressing, he plunged into the green 
 depths from which June had not quite taken the chill 
 of spring. His lithe, strong body responded to the 
 shock; the nerves, harried by the long night watch, 
 relaxed; he shouted lustily. For a few minutes he 
 swam vigorously, diving and turning somersaults, 
 frolicsome as a school-boy, reveling in his strength 
 and skill; then he turned on his back and floated with 
 the lazy current until little shivers began to ripple over 
 him. Reaching the shore, he took the towel and 
 rubbed himself into a glow. He tingled with a sense 
 of well-being. 
 
 When he was dressed again, refreshed and eager for 
 his day, he took the path back to the highway. The 
 sun was climbing over the hills. He stopped and 
 watched it while it swung clear in the sky, gleaming a 
 fiery red through the mists of the valley. A gentle 
 breeze sprang up and sent the gray vapor streaming 
 and billowing away into nothingness. The red of the 
 sun became the hot, white blaze of molten iron. The 
 glory of the morning was complete.
 
 MISTS OF THE MORNING 3 
 
 He was about to resume his tramp homeward when 
 he beheld a strange procession advancing along the 
 road, a young woman leading a limping horse. As 
 she came nearer, he chuckled aloud. The handsome 
 pigskin saddle, the ivory-handled crop, the modish 
 riding-suit and boots were not the equipment with 
 which young ladies of New Chelsea were wont to 
 ride; the hat was of the sort seen thereabouts only 
 as the crowning glory of the circus equestrienne. But 
 for the matter of that, feminine New Chelsea had not 
 the habit of matutinal exercise. 
 
 She heard him and looked up coldly; the chuckle 
 died instantly. 
 
 " Good morning," he said. " What's the matter 
 with your horse ? Can I help you ? " 
 
 She stopped. " He has picked up a stone," she an 
 swered, " and I can't get it out. If you will be so 
 good" 
 
 He vaulted lightly over the fence that bounded the 
 meadow and tried to remove the offending stone with 
 his fingers. This method proving ineffective, he went 
 to a near-by tree and broke off a branch, the thick 
 end of which he whittled into a rude sort of wedge. 
 With this primitive implement he quickly abstracted 
 the stone. The horse, a splendid chestnut, pawed the 
 ground gingerly with the hurt foot. 
 
 " Thank you," the young woman said. 
 
 " You're quite welcome," he answered. " I'm al- 
 ;ways glad to help beauty in distress. He is a beauti 
 ful animal, isn't he?" he added hastily. 
 
 "Are you charring me?" she asked coldly. 
 
 He repressed a smile. " By no means ! Better not 
 ride him for a little bit, until we see how he walks."
 
 4 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 She resumed her walk, leading the horse, which 
 still limped slightly. The young man kept pace with 
 her. 
 
 " You ride early," he ventured. 
 
 " No earlier than you swim," she replied briefly, 
 glancing at his wet hair and towel. He at once be 
 came uncomfortably conscious of his rather unkempt 
 appearance. 
 
 " Are you staying in New Chelsea? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Surely not at the hotel ! " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Shall you stay long? " 
 
 " Are you in the habit of cross-examining strangers 
 on the road ? " she inquired frigidly. 
 
 He reddened. " I beg your pardon," he said, and 
 slackened his pace to let her draw ahead. 
 
 A hundred yards farther on she stopped and waited 
 for him to overtake her. He thought he detected an 
 amused gleam in her eyes and the red deepened. But 
 the twinkle died instantly. 
 
 " I think I'll ride now," she said, " if you will help 
 me up. Crusader has stopped limping." 
 
 He held out his hand, she placed a foot in it and 
 was lifted to the saddle. She murmured her thanks. 
 But, although she gathered in the reins, she did not 
 start away. For a moment she sat looking at the 
 hills, apparently oblivious of the young man's pres 
 ence. He wondered who she was, this well-tailored, 
 well-cared for, well-poised young lady who had so 
 suddenly appeared out of the mists of the morning, 
 exuding amid the place and hour an air of artificial
 
 MISTS OF THE MORNING 5 
 
 luxury and yet, oddly enough, without seeming 
 wholly incongruous. 
 
 " If it weren't for that absurd hat! " he sighed in 
 wardly. 
 
 He ventured again. " Why do you call him Cru 
 sader?" 
 
 She looked down at him. "Another question? 
 You are incorrigible." 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he said again stiffly. And 
 marched up the road. 
 
 " I have named him that," she called after him, 
 " because he has plenty of fire and spirit, but at crit 
 ical times seems to lack common sense." She 
 laughed, a free, musical laugh that somehow recalled 
 the blood to his cheeks. He made no reply. 
 
 She watched him as he swung along, frankly ad 
 miring the tall, cleanly-built figure whose lines the 
 loose coat he wore did not conceal. She remem 
 bered the end of the big game eight years before, 
 when a laughing, mud-stained young athlete tore him 
 self away from his idolatrous companions to lay his 
 triumph at the feet of the day's sweetheart. She re 
 membered also, with a smile, the stabbing childish 
 jealousy with which a freckle-faced, short-skirted girl 
 had witnessed his devotion. 
 
 " And you're still here, buried alive in this out-of- 
 the-way corner of the world," she said softly. " O, 
 John Dunmeade ! John Dunmeade ! " 
 
 Suddenly she touched her horse with the crop. He 
 bounded forward and clattered along until the young 
 man was overtaken. She pulled Crusader down to a 
 walk, at which the young man looked up astonished.
 
 6 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 " You left in quite a hurry," she said demurely. 
 " I suppose you're getting hungry, aren't you ? " 
 
 " I never care to be snubbed more than twice be 
 fore breakfast," he answered dryly. 
 
 "Oh! Did I snub you?" 
 
 " I was under that impression." 
 
 " But confess," she urged, " you were about to com 
 ment on the beauty of the morning." 
 
 " Do you think you are the only one who can really 
 enjoy the sunrise?" he retorted. Then he laughed, 
 "But I was rather banal, wasn't I?" 
 
 She nodded. " It's a horrid word but I'm afraid 
 you were." 
 
 Curious as to her identity, but fearing another re 
 proof, he cautiously refrained from further speech. 
 
 They went along in silence, until they reached a 
 point where the undulating road rose to command a 
 view of the valley to the south and the town to the 
 north. She reined in her horse. 
 
 " What a pity one can't find words for such a 
 morning! And the wonder of it is that it has re 
 curred we don't know how many millions of times, 
 always glorious." 
 
 " It makes one feel a bit reverent " 
 
 " and at the same time uplifted ' 
 
 " and small," he concluded. " What a jumble of 
 emotions ! " 
 
 " I hate to feel small, but it's true. One realizes 
 as at no other time that the great fundamental forces 
 are eternally at work. One feels as helpless as " 
 She paused for lack of a comparison. 
 
 " As helpless as some chick will soon feel, unless 
 the farmer's dog scares off that hawk," he completed
 
 7. 
 
 the sentence for her, pointing. Over a barnyard in 
 the valley the big bird was soaring in narrowing, low 
 ering circles. From beneath came faintly the cries 
 of frightened fowls. Suddenly the hawk swooped 
 low to the earth. Scarcely pausing, it soared aloft 
 once more, leaving panic in the barnyard and one chick 
 the less. 
 
 The young woman laughed. " There's an illustra 
 tion of one fundamental law." 
 
 "The supremacy of the strong? That's an old 
 theory, I know. A very pretty one from the point 
 of view of the hawk. But how about the chick? " 
 
 " O, if one is born a chick " She concluded the 
 sentence with a shrug of her shoulders. 
 
 He looked up at her curiously. " You are frank." 
 
 " Isn't that what the hawk's strength is for ? " she 
 demanded. 
 
 " I suppose it is." 
 
 " Strength," she declared sagely, " is the most splen 
 did thing in life." 
 
 "That depends on how it is used, doesn't it?" 
 
 " It doesn't depend. Strength is its own law. 
 Hasn't the world always been conquered and ruled 
 by its strong? " 
 
 " I'm afraid that is true," he said soberly. 
 
 " Afraid ! I should think you would be glad, since> 
 I have it from the New Chelsea Globe you are 
 a strong man." 
 
 He looked his astonishment. " You know who I 
 am ! " 
 
 " Of course! Did you think, Mr. Dunmeade," she 
 laughed, " did you think your charms outweighed the 
 conventions? I am not a barbarian, in the habit of
 
 8 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 philosophizing with strange young men on the road 
 before seven o'clock in the morning." 
 
 " What did you read in the Globe? " 
 
 " The vanity of men! I read, ' Mr. Dunmeade will 
 undoubtedly make a strong candidate. The entire 
 county wants him. It will have him.' It reads like 
 a patent medicine advertisement, doesn't it? How 
 does it feel to be wanted by an entire county, Mr. 
 Dunmeade ? " 
 
 "It is," he confessed, "rather pleasant if true. 
 Who are you ? " 
 
 And suddenly, with a laugh, she was gone, amid a 
 clatter of hoofs. He followed her admiringly with 
 his eyes, as her horse sped with its burden along the 
 road, until at the edge of the town they disappeared 
 under the arching trees of the street. 
 
 "Well, now, if that isn't funny!" he exclaimed. 
 He laughed, for no particular reason, from sheer ex 
 uberance of spirits. 
 
 He resumed his tramp, head high, drinking in the 
 glory of the morning, thrilling with the joy of life and 
 the vigor of body which a sleepless night could not 
 impair. 
 
 Once, aloud, he addressed the morning. " She said 
 I am strong. I wonder, am I strong strong 
 enough? " 
 
 And, searching his soul for the answer, he heard no 
 negative.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 MIRAGE IN THE DESERT 
 
 |~^HIS chronicle, we neglected to state, begins at 
 * the beginning of the end of an epoch. The 
 epoch has been variously styled a golden age, a period 
 of prosperity, an era of expansion. It was all of that 
 to a few. For others though they did not see 
 it it was a recession, a truce in the struggle, old 
 as life itself, between the many and the strong. 
 
 But at that time no one, perhaps least of all Wil 
 liam Murchell, dreamed that the historic period, in the 
 shaping of which he had had a more than casual hand, 
 was drawing to a close. Certain gentlemen, it is 
 true, were secretly trying to destroy his power; but 
 they entertained no wish to disturb the serene course 
 of history. 
 
 William Murchell was a distinguished member of a 
 class whose climbing proclivities are not subdued by 
 the incident of a lowly start. He was born in the ob 
 scure hill town of New Chelsea, soon after Andrew 
 Jackson and his contemporaries promulgated and il 
 lustrated the immortal doctrine, " To the victor belong 
 the spoils." Left an orphan at the tender age of 
 fourteen, he became a grocery clerk; perhaps here he 
 developed the talent for trading, afterward so marked 
 in his political rise. In the fashion made popular by 
 Abraham Lincoln and other great men he secured an 
 
 9
 
 io HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 education and on the day he attained his majority, was 
 admitted to the practice of law in Benton County. 
 
 About the same time he entered the broader pro 
 fession of politics, being then a lukewarm Whig. 
 But in 1856 we find him an interested spectator at the 
 birth of a new party; doubtless no one who saw the 
 awkward, countrified youth so closely watchful of the 
 proceedings could have believed that he and the new 
 party would prove a combination that would later 
 dominate the state, even create some stir in the na 
 tion. What he believed is not on record, save that 
 on the return trip to New Chelsea he remarked sol 
 emnly to the Honorable Robert Dunmeade (Congress 
 man), "Within four years the Republican party will 
 carry this state, and within eight years it will elect a 
 president." To which that gentleman, who had al 
 ready received evidence of the young man's political 
 astuteness, listened with some respect. The prophecy 
 was fulfilled even earlier than the date fixed by the 
 youthful politician, which caused a serious unpleas 
 antness between North and South. William Mur- 
 chell had by that time taken the preliminary steps to 
 ward effecting the alliance just mentioned. 
 
 His military services are perhaps best dismissed 
 with the mention of a certain gold medal struck in his 
 honor, by special act of Congress, for gallant conduct 
 on the field of battle. The invidious have made much 
 of this decoration. However, it probably required a 
 finer courage to resign from the colonelcy of his Home 
 Guard regiment on the eve of Gettysburg this in 
 deed was the fact to accept the less exposed office 
 of aide to the governor at the capital, than to face the 
 hail of rebel bullets. There are many ways of ex-
 
 MIRAGE IN THE DESERT n 
 
 pressing one's patriotism. Later he served his coun 
 try as Prothonotary for Benton County. Afterward 
 he passed through many gradations of political pre 
 ferment, as representative in the general assembly 
 of his state, as state senator, as state treasurer and 
 finally as United States senator, which exalted office 
 he held until but we anticipate our history. He 
 became in addition leader of the Republican organi 
 zation, an euphemism employed by those who ob 
 jected to the term " boss." 
 
 William Murchell's credo was that of a respectable 
 but practical man. He was a teetotaler and a Presby 
 terian elder and believed in the doctrine of foreordina- 
 tion and in a literal scriptural hell for those not num 
 bered among the elect. He was a Republican and 
 believed devoutly in the avowed and tacit principles of 
 that party (although he was not bigoted and would 
 on occasion take a secret hand in the affairs of the 
 opposition). As a sub-article of this tenet he held 
 that only those were Republicans who were loyal to 
 the regular organization ; he had more than once read 
 out of the party foolhardy young men who ventured 
 to oppose his leadership. He believed, moreover, that 
 the Almighty had predestined and equipped some men 
 for leadership and that lesser folk ought frankly to 
 yield obedience to this decree of an all-wise Provi 
 dence. He was, as has been intimated, a practical 
 man, and he followed unquestioningly certain time- 
 worn but useful maxims, such as, " The end justifies 
 the means." He clung especially to that theory of 
 practical politics immortalized in Andrew Jackson's 
 time. Yet he had read history and was not without 
 a sense of humor.
 
 12 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 He lived during at least two months of every year 
 in the town of his birth, either in the square, white 
 frame house on Maple Street or at the farm, three 
 miles west, which he let " on shares." Change of 
 dynasties has removed New Chelsea from the political 
 map. But time was when the fashion was to speak 
 humorously of it as the " capital de facto." This was 
 during the period of the Murchell ascendancy, when 
 gentlemen interested in the political affairs of the 
 commonwealth were wont to make pilgrimages to the 
 Maple Street house. 
 
 New Chelsea was a quaint, old-fashioned town lying 
 at the head of the Weehannock Valley, quite content 
 with its population of five thousand and with the 
 honor of being the county seat, which Murchell's in 
 fluence had prevented from being moved to Plumville. 
 When citizens of that thriving little factory city 
 fifteen miles away casually mentioned the latest 
 census, New Chelseans would smile a superior smile; 
 they knew that the importance of a community is de 
 termined by the character rather than the numbers of 
 its population. To prove this, they cited the case of 
 Murchell; out of Bethlehem, not from Jerusalem, the 
 king had been chosen. 
 
 Down Main Street, one fine June afternoon, he was 
 walking with that air of abstraction which sits so well 
 on the great. 
 
 " He has big possibilities." Unconsciously the sen 
 ator spoke aloud. 
 
 His companion seemed to understand the reference. 
 " He's all right," he answered. State Senator Jim 
 Sheehan was a big, fat gentleman with furtive, twin 
 kling eyes, a modicum of coarse good looks and a
 
 MIRAGE IN THE DESERT 13 
 
 rolling, cock-sure gait bred oi no misfortune. He 
 was a son of power. Fifteen years before he had 
 gone to Plumville to work in the mills, an uncouth, 
 unlettered Irishman who could tell a good story, hold 
 unlimited quantities of liquor and was not unwilling 
 to work when money could not be had otherwise. 
 
 But not long for him had been the grime and roar 
 and muscle-racking of the mills; money could be had 
 more easily. Plumville was booming. There were 
 streets to be graded and paved, public buildings to be 
 constructed. Jim went into politics and, because he 
 was a good " vote-getter " and had a certain rough 
 talent for the game, acquired power. He opened a 
 saloon and acquired more power. He became a con 
 tractor and secured many contracts. One day the 1 
 city awoke to the fact that Jim Sheehan owned its 
 government. The citizens cried out in protest 
 and, with the habit of American cities, little and big, 
 submitted. He became, by virtue of his alliance with 
 Murchell, state senator from Benton County and 
 leader we cling to the euphemism of the county 
 organization. 
 
 " He's all right," he repeated, and chuckled. 
 
 "Eh?" said Murchell. "Who's all right?" 
 
 " Why, Johnny Dunmeade, of course. Didn't tell 
 you how I happen to be goin' to see him, 'stead of the 
 other way 'round. It's a horse on me, all right." 
 He threw back his head and the chuckle became a 
 loud guffaw. " Sent word for him to come to my 
 office last Tuesday at two o'clock sharp. Guess he 
 knew what for. He came, all right. I thought it'd 
 do him good to cool his heels a while keep him 
 from gettin' too chesty, see ? So I let him stay in the
 
 ,14 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 front office while I read the newspaper inside. Guess 
 he waited about half an hour and then got up. ' Pre 
 sent my compliments to Senator Sheehan,' he says to 
 the boy, ' and tell him to go to the devil and learn how 
 to keep his appointments.' And left. 'Long about 
 three o'clock I strolled out and gets his message." 
 Sheehan paused long enough to slap his thigh re 
 soundingly. " He's all right. Ain't any one told me 
 to go to the devil for some time." 
 
 " Good many think it, though." Murchell smiled. 
 " You're not a very popular citizen, Jim." 
 
 "Huh!" Sheehan grunted. "I don't need to be 
 popular, so long as the organization sticks. But say," 
 he reverted to his *opic, " it'll be a ten-strike, puttin' 
 Dunmeade on the ticket. I'm glad we I mean, 
 you thought of it. I've had my feelers out and 
 he'll be worth five hundred extry majority to the 
 whole ticket." 
 
 " If he'll take the nomination." 
 
 "Take it? Of course, he'll take it. Ain't there 
 fifteen hundred a year in it for him? And mebby, 
 when his term's ended, he might go to the legislature 
 as representative." 
 
 "Or state senator?" 
 
 Sheehan grinned. " Say, do I look like I was on 
 my way to the boneyard ? " 
 
 He became serious. " What's the matter with the 
 people, anyhow? Raisin' hell all over the state 
 just because," he added complainingly, " one trust 
 company went up and the cashier shot itself. Ain't 
 business good? Ain't the organization given them 
 good government ? " he demanded.
 
 MIRAGE IN THE DESERT 15 
 
 " It has." Senator Murchell spoke with convic 
 tion. 
 
 "What do they want, then?" 
 
 " I don't know. They don't know. And as long 
 as they don't know," Murchell said dryly, " you and 
 I, Jim, needn't be afraid." 
 
 " I guess that's right. Here we are." 
 
 They had reached and turned the corner of the 
 street that bounds the court-house square on the north. 
 They stopped at a frame, two-room shack, by the door; 
 of which hung a battered tin sign, " John Dunmeade, 
 Attorney-at-Law." Sheehan led the way inside. 
 Through the door of the inner room came the muf 
 fled drone of voices. The two men seated them 
 selves in the anteroom and waited. Ten minutes 
 passed. 
 
 Sheehan chuckled again. " I bet," he said, " he's 
 seen us and is goin' to keep us waitin'. That's what 
 I like about him he's got nerve to make grand 
 stand plays. A grandstand player makes a good can 
 didate." 
 
 " Sheehan," Senator Murchell exclaimed impa 
 tiently, " for a smart man you talk a lot of foolish 
 ness." 
 
 Sheehan relapsed into a serene silence, staring 
 ruminatively at a steel engraving of Daniel Web 
 ster. After a few minutes the door opened and John 
 Dunmeade emerged, ushering out a big, bearded 
 farmer. When the client had left, the young lawyer 
 turned to his callers and shook hands, warmly with 
 Murchell and hastily with Sheehan. 
 
 "Will you step inside, gentlemen?"
 
 16 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 They took seats around the old, time-stained mahog 
 any table. Sheehan drew forth from his waistcoat 
 pocket a handful of fat, black cigars. 
 
 "Smoke?" 
 
 Murchell shook his head. John also declined. 
 
 " If you don't mind, I'll stick to my pipe." He 
 filled and lighted it, then leaned back, surveying his 
 callers expectantly. 
 
 " Well? " His look addressed the remark to Sena 
 tor Murchell. 
 
 The senator smiled slightly. " I'm here only as an 
 honorary vice-president. Ask Sheehan. He likes to 
 talk." 
 
 " Sure," Sheehan grinned. " I ain't one of them 
 that believes the feller that don't talk is deep and 
 wise. He gener'ly ain't talkin' because he can't think 
 of nothing to say." He paused, and continued, " Well, 
 Mr. District Attorney " 
 
 "Isn't that a little premature?" John interrupted. 
 
 For answer the Honorable Jim drew forth from 
 another pocket a folded newspaper, which he spread 
 out on his knees. Solemnly he began to read : " We 
 should not dignify the present rather unsettled politi 
 cal conditions with the name crisis. But it is un 
 questionably a time when the Republican party must 
 inspect its path carefully. At such a time it be 
 hooves it to choose as candidates only men whose 
 fearlessness and honesty are not open to question. 
 Benton County has this fall to fill the important office 
 of district attorney. Of all those mentioned for this 
 post we know of none who so well fills the bill as John 
 Dunmeade, the popular and brilliant young lawyer of 
 New Chelsea. His name," Sheehan's voice rose to a
 
 MIRAGE IN THE DESERT 17 
 
 triumphant climax ; " his name has brought forth en 
 thusiasm wherever mentioned. The entire county 
 wants him. It will have him." He looked up. 
 " What do you think of that, eh ? " 
 
 " Which of you," John asked, " inspired that edi 
 torial?" 
 
 " I did," answered Sheehan. " I didn't write it, 
 though," he confessed. 
 
 " Don't you think," John demanded, a little sharply, 
 " you might have asked my consent before using my; 
 name as a candidate ? " 
 
 " What the " Then Sheehan recollected Senator 
 Murchell's aversion to profanity. He stared in 
 amazement. " Say, when I'm tryin' to do you a 
 favor" 
 
 " Not at all. You're doing yourself the favor of 
 using me in a tight place. Do I understand you've 
 come here to to give me your consent to run ? " 
 
 Murchell smiled. The sarcasm was lost on Shee 
 han. 
 
 " We came to say we'd support you." 
 
 " Then let me state the case to you as it is. The 
 state is pretty much worked up over that trust com 
 pany affair back east I'm not sure it oughtn't to 
 be worked up, either. The farmers in this county and 
 a good many people in Plumville aren't very friendly 
 to you personally at best. In short," he laughed, 
 " you need some new timber to patch up the old ship 
 of state. And you think I'll do." 
 
 Sheehan turned to Senator Murchell. " Senator, 
 let's me and you go right out and resign and let 
 Johnny here run things. Don't you want the job?" 
 he demanded of John.
 
 i8 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 " I don't know yet. I'm thinking it over. But if 
 I take it, it will be on condition " 
 
 "On condition!" 
 
 " that there are no conditions. I'd want to run 
 my campaign and the office according to my own 
 notions. I'd run it straight." 
 
 " Sure," agreed Sheehan. 
 
 " I really mean it, you know," John insisted. " I 
 might even have to get after you, Sheehan." 
 
 This, to Sheehan, was humorous matter. " That's 
 all right," he agreed again, grinning, " if you can 
 catch me. You think it over, Johnny, and let me 
 know to-morrow." 
 
 He rose. " Well, I guess I must be goin'. Are 
 you comin' along, Senator?" 
 
 " Not just now, Sheehan," Senator Murchell an 
 swered. 
 
 " I'll be sayin' good day, then." Sheehan shook 
 hands with Senator Murchell and John and moved 
 toward the door. With his hand on the knob, he 
 stopped. 
 
 " You don't open the door for me the way you 
 did for your rube friend, Johnny ! " He laughed. 
 
 " Pardon me." John took a step toward him. But 
 Sheehan opened the door himself. 
 
 " Don't mind. I'm able-bodied yet." And went 
 out. 
 
 John went to the window, where he watched the 
 politician until the swaggering figure disappeared 
 around the corner. Murchell, with a faint twinge at 
 his heart, saw the distaste plainly written on the young 
 man's face. The twinge was because the time had 
 come to grind his young friend through the mills of
 
 MIRAGE IN THE DESERT 19 
 
 the organization. He could not understand the sharp 
 little pain. Surely any man in his senses would be 
 glad to be converted into fine, useful meal. And 
 the senator, who set a low value upon gratuitous 
 services, proposed to make the grinding process 
 worth while to the man who was to be ground. He 
 was already forming vague plans of setting him on 
 the road to high political station; perhaps John might 
 even prove to be an Elisha, some day to assume a 
 fallen mantle. The senator would have rejoiced in 
 such a consummation, and for a reason that would 
 have astounded those who looked upon him only as 
 a crafty old fox, that might have astonished even 
 himself had he analyzed it with the close care he 
 usually gave to his mental processes. 
 
 To the portrait with which this chapter opened 
 we may add that William Murchell was a bachelor 
 a matter for which he is not to be censured too 
 severely, since he once made an earnest effort to repair 
 the condition. His had been a very simple ro 
 mance. He had loved, had laid himself and his as 
 pirations at the lady's feet and had been rejected. A 
 short time afterward he stood with his best friend 
 as the latter took the same lady in holy wedlock. 
 It is probable that he had his period of suffering; 
 but, as became a man of ambition, he quickly put an 
 end to it and gave himself to the climb to power. In 
 time his romance was almost forgotten. 
 
 Almost! For in later years he formed the habit of 
 looking back and wondering why he had been made 
 to suffer his futile love. Not that he was a senti 
 mental man ! He merely, where other great men took 
 recreation by reading detective stories, found occa-
 
 20 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 sional relaxation in reliving his romance. Sometimes, 
 in a mellow hour, he would construct for himself a 
 scene in which a gentle-faced woman with gray-green 
 eyes sat across the hearth and around them an in 
 definite number of the second generation. In the 
 scene was always a pleasantly-laughing young man 
 who peered out on the world through eyes like his 
 mother's. This often occurred after Senator Mur- 
 chell had met or heard something of John Dun- 
 meade, a young man in whom he thought he saw 
 a masculine replica of the woman of his romance. 
 The senator's memory must have been good, for she 
 had been dead many years. He was seeing her that 
 June afternoon. 
 
 John returned to his chair. Murchell looked 
 around at the dingy office. Over the desk hung 
 a calendar and another faded, old-fashioned print 
 of Daniel Webster. Save for this adornment the 
 walls were given over to calf- and sheep-bound 
 books; rows and rows set upon plain pine shelves. 
 The old mahogany furniture, doubtless splendid in 
 its day, had been battered and scratched by many 
 careless hands and feet. 
 
 " You keep the old office just the same, I see. I 
 remember when your grandfather built and furnished 
 it" 
 
 " Yes, I don't like to disturb things though 
 Aunt Roberta thinks it's a fearful mess. Three gen 
 erations of Dunmeades have used this office just as 
 it is." 
 
 " I used to come here to borrow books from your 
 grandfather and talk politics. He was a mighty
 
 MIRAGE IN THE DESERT 21 
 
 smart man. He would have been governor during 
 the war, if he hadn't died. He gave me my start." 
 
 " Yes," John said idly. 
 
 " Senator," he leaned forward abruptly, " what do 
 you think of Sheehan?" 
 
 " He is," Senator Murchell said cautiously, " a dia 
 mond in the rough." 
 
 " Decidedly in the rough ! " 
 
 " He's smarter than he talks. He has power. 
 Don't make an enemy of him, John don't make 
 him an enemy." 
 
 " He's a vicious type," John declared. 
 
 " Your grandfather used to say, ' There's no man 
 so bad and no man so good that he can't be made 
 useful.' Sheehan has been mighty useful to his 
 party." The pause was almost imperceptible. 
 
 " Senator, why don't you, with all your power, put 
 men like Sheehan out of politics?" 
 
 " Young man," Murchell answered dryly, " if I 
 were strong enough to put all the rascals out of poli 
 tics, I'd make the Almighty jealous. And if I did 
 put them out, I couldn't fill their places. I've heard 
 there are a few saints on earth, but they're not in 
 politics." 
 
 John smiled skeptically. " There's an answer to 
 that if I only knew it." He sighed. 
 
 " Are you going to take the nomination ? " 
 
 " I hate to be under obligations to Sheehan." 
 
 " You won't be under obligations to Sheehan." 
 
 " I don't want to be under obligations " John hesi 
 tated a moment " to you. Something might come 
 up that would make me seem ungrateful."
 
 22 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 " I'll risk it." 
 
 " But I'm not sure I'm the kind of man you want." 
 
 "I'll risk it," Murchell repeated. 
 
 " But I don't think you understand," John per 
 sisted. " I've been bothered a little lately about 
 some things. That trust company affair, for instance 
 it doesn't look right. And then Sheehan I 
 can't quite stomach his power. I'm afraid I haven't 
 given politics the attention a man should give 
 and I can't quite decide these questions yet." 
 
 " You don't have to decide them. And don't be 
 lieve all the rumors you hear." 
 
 " But I'm afraid that trust company rumor has 
 been pretty well substantiated. I don't like to seem 
 to criticize, Senator," he said courteously, " but it 
 looks to me as though the system that allowed that 
 affair must be wrong somewhere." 
 
 " Tut ! tut ! young man," the senator answered, a 
 trifle testily, " don't go flying off at a tangent with 
 harebrained theories about perfect systems. As 
 long as men are weak and imperfect, any system they 
 devise will make some mistakes, won't it? And since 
 the Almighty made some men strong enough to do 
 pretty much as they please, they're going to do things 
 that way. I guess He knew what He was doing 
 when He made such men." Again Senator Murchell 
 spoke with conviction. 
 
 John shook his head in troubled fashion. " I've 
 got to figure that out in. my own way. Senator." 
 
 Murchell looked out of the window into the Square, 
 thoughtfully. It was a warm, listless day. The 
 leaves on the trees, stirred by the gentle breeze, whis- 
 pered spiritlessly. The flag, the one brilliant splash
 
 MIRAGE IN THE DESERT 23 
 
 of color in the sober picture, flapped lazily at the 
 head of its tall mast. A few small boys, who had 
 been playing ball, were lying on the grass, even their 
 young sportiveness not proof against the general in 
 ertia. There was nothing in the peaceful, indolent 
 scene to tell him that the serene waters upon which 
 he had sailed to power were to become a seething, 
 passion-lashed fury whose subsidence he would never 
 see. He knew only that the people, even sad ex 
 ample of the ingratitude of republics! the people 
 of Benton County, were stirring restlessly, asking 
 questions and criticizing answers. But that would 
 pass, as such ebullitions had always passed! Neither 
 the face beside him, troubled by a problem old as 
 life itself, nor the returning twinge at his heart de 
 terred him from carrying out his resolution to press 
 the young man into his service. There is a scriptural 
 injunction concerning putting one's hand to the 
 plow, -which Senator Murchell had read and always 
 obeyed. 
 
 He pointed to the sleepy Square. " You won't 
 want to sit here looking out at that all your life 
 if you're the man I take you for. You'll want to go 
 out and make your place a big place in the life 
 of men. If you do, you can't stop to hit every ugly 
 head that pops up in your path. And you've got to 
 make use of the materials you find. Leave the things 
 that don't look right alone they'll work themselves 
 out in the end. They always have. And be imper 
 sonal. Make use of enemies and friends alike." 
 
 Counsel to Laertes from an expert in life! 
 
 " Even your friendship ? " John interrupted quickly, 
 smiling.
 
 24 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 " You'd be a fool if you didn't," Polonius replied 
 consistently. 
 
 "I'm afraid," John sighed; "I'm afraid I'm that 
 kind of fool. I suppose," he went on, " I'm going 
 to take the nomination. I do want to make a place 
 for myself in the big life of men. But I want to 
 earn it, not seize it because I am strong enough, or 
 have it given to me by some other who is strong." 
 He hesitated, then continued, " It sounds absurd, 
 I know, but something seems calling, compelling me 
 into this. And I'm I'm afraid. I have the feel 
 ing that I am facing something to which I perhaps 
 may not be equal. Senator Murchell, I ask you to 
 tell me truly, is there any reason why a man who 
 wants to come through clean should not go into poli 
 tics?" 
 
 " Absolutely none," the senator answered promptly. 
 And he added sincerely, with a pertinence the scope 
 of which he did not comprehend, " If there were more 
 clean men in politics, there would be less room for 
 the rascals." 
 
 So William Murchell, as he thought, bound his 
 young friend, John Dunmeade, to the wheels of his 
 organization. Ex post facto criticism is easy; even 
 Napoleon's strategy sometimes erred. 
 
 News travels swiftly and by mysterious avenues in 
 New Chelsea. That evening at supper Judge Dun 
 meade congratulated his son. 
 
 " I am glad," he said ponderously, " that you have 
 entered the service of your party." 
 
 Miss Roberta, the judge's sister, sniffed disdainfully. 
 " Does that mean pulling chestnuts out of the coals
 
 MIRAGE IN THE DESERT 25 
 
 for pussy Murchell? You better keep out of poli 
 tics, John. There'll be trouble, I feel it in my 
 bones." 
 
 The judge frowned and John laughed. Her bones, 
 if Miss Roberta was to be believed, often essayed the 
 role of prophet. 
 
 John's laughter quickly subsided. " I have a pro 
 found regard for your judgment, Aunt Roberta." 
 
 " And a will of your own." 
 
 "I hope so." 
 
 " You'll need it." 
 
 " Roberta," chided the judge, " it doesn't lie in a 
 Dunmeade's mouth to speak disparagingly of one who 
 has placed our family under such obligations as has 
 William Murchell." 
 
 " Meaning your judgeship, I suppose." 
 
 The judge stiffened visibly. " I trust my own 
 character and ability had something to do with that." 
 
 " Are you depending on them to make you a jus 
 tice? " It was an open secret in the Dunmeade family 
 that the judge aspired to end his days on the supreme 
 bench of the state. 
 
 He treated the jibe to the silence it deserved, and 
 Miss Roberta, who did not ignore the value of the 
 last word in a tilt, triumphantly rose from the table 
 and left the room. 
 
 " Your aunt," remarked the judge, " lets her habit 
 of saying biting things run away with her judgment." 
 
 " Ye-es? " said John doubtfully. 
 
 " Yes ! " said the judge emphatically. " To follow 
 in the footsteps of such a man as William Murchell 
 entails no loss of self-respect."
 
 26 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 " At least, there's ample precedent for it." 
 
 " And honorable precedent, I hope," the judge sup 
 plemented, having himself in mind. 
 
 John looked thoughtfully at his father, a question 
 momentarily halting his elation over his prospective 
 preferment. Hugh Dunmeade was held by his neigh 
 bors, and hitherto had been accounted by his son, a 
 good man, a just judge and an exemplary citizen. 
 His dicta, judicial and private, carried great weight 
 in the community. And he seemed troubled by no 
 questions of not having formulated the disturbing 
 doubt, John called it propriety. 
 
 " In whose footsteps," John suddenly asked, " did 
 Murchell follow?" 
 
 " Being a great man," answered his father, " he 
 blazed his own path and led his party after him." 
 
 The implication called a twinkle into John's eyes, 
 but he made no retort. 
 
 " I hope," Judge Dunmeade continued, " you aren't 
 falling into your aunt's habit of looking a gift horse 
 in the mouth." 
 
 " Then it this nomination will be a gift from 
 Murchell?" 
 
 " You couldn't have it otherwise." 
 
 "And you see nothing wrong in that?" 
 
 " I, myself, should be glad to have his support for 
 any office I might seek." The judge regarded this 
 answer as sufficient. " I'm glad you have it. It 
 shows his friendship for us continues. And," he 
 cleared his throat significantly, " it augurs well for 
 other honors to ahem ! our family." 
 
 Two little creases settled between John's eyes.
 
 MIRAGE IN THE DESERT 27 
 
 Miss Roberta was a vigorous spinster of sixty 
 whose caustic tongue tried, not always successfully, 
 to hide the kindly impulses of her heart. It would 
 be absurd, of course, to say that she had preserved 
 the bloom of her youth; but she had preserved her 
 hair, which was something. And she bore herself, 
 if not with the buoyancy of earlier years, at least 
 with an upright dignity highly becoming in the only 
 daughter of New Chelsea's first family. Not that 
 Miss Roberta was so wrapped up in the glories of 
 the past that she forgot the exigencies of the present. 
 Woe betide the huckstering farmer who ventured to 
 proffer his wares at exorbitant prices ! It was her 
 belief, not without justification in the fact, that she 
 had been indispensable to the judge and his son ; hence 
 she scolded and disciplined them freely. She was a 
 lady of many violent dislikes, notably for Senator 
 Murchell and Warren Blake, and a few equally vio 
 lent friendships; although it was matter for doubt 
 whom she made the more uncomfortable, enemies or 
 friends, toward both of whom she allowed herself the 
 privilege of frank criticism. 
 
 Later in the evening she found John alone on the 
 western porch, staring up into the sky. The prophecy 
 of the morning's red sunrise was about to be ful 
 filled; a storm was brewing. Athwart the sky hung 
 heavy black clouds, turned momentarily by the light 
 ning flashes into the murky yellow of damp wood 
 smoke. Under the rising wind the trees swayed and 
 bent as though shaken by the hand of some invisible 
 giant. 
 
 "Isn't it great, though! I never tire of watching
 
 '28 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 a storm come up. There's a majesty about it, a sort 
 of" 
 
 " Humph ! It's going to be wet and your father's 
 rheumatics will be worse," interrupted Miss Roberta, 
 eminently practical. " You better go up-stairs and 
 close the windows." 
 
 John laughingly obeyed. When he returned, Miss 
 Roberta was still on the porch, staring disapprovingly 
 at the advancing storm. 
 
 "Don't you like it?" 
 
 " I do not. Ugh ! " Miss Roberta jumped, as an 
 exceptionally brilliant flash shot its jagged path across 
 the clouds. " I told your father he ought to put up 
 new lightning rods." 
 
 " Isn't there any poetry in you, Aunt Roberta? " 
 
 " Poetry indeed ! " The accompanying sniff was 
 eloquent. John returned to his contemplation of the 
 storm. 
 
 " Steve Hampden," Miss Roberta remarked in a 
 carefully casual tone, " is home. And Katherine," 
 she added. 
 
 "Yes?" negligently. 
 
 " You go and call on her. Go to-night." 
 
 " Can't. I have " he yawned " an appoint 
 ment with the sandman. I didn't sleep much last 
 night." 
 
 " Humph ! You never were in bed at all. Go to 
 morrow, then." 
 
 " Won't she keep ? She seemed healthy enough 
 the last time I saw her. Regular little red-headed 
 tomboy she was." 
 
 " She mightn't stay long." Miss Roberta's tone 
 implied that this contingency would be little short of
 
 MIRAGE IN THE DESERT 29 
 
 calamitous. " And Warren Blake is dancing after 
 her already." 
 
 " Dear Aunt Roberta, Warren never in his life did 
 anything so frivolous as dancing. Why are you in 
 such a hurry to have me fall in love? " 
 
 " I don't want you to grow old and crabbed and 
 and lonesome like me." 
 
 " Why why, Aunt Roberta ! I didn't know you 
 felt that way. You mustn't, you know," he said 
 gravely, and patted her hand affectionately, from 
 which unwonted demonstration she hastily snatched 
 it away. 
 
 He laughed. " There's time enough for mating, 
 anyhow. I'm only thirty. And besides, what could 
 I offer a girl, even if I were so reckless as to fall in 
 love?" 
 
 " Yourself." Miss Roberta could not entirely re 
 press a hint of pride. 
 
 " Those spectacles you're always losing must be 
 rose-colored. I'd want to offer something more than 
 myself, Aunt Roberta; something of achievement 
 that would prove my worth. I couldn't love a woman 
 who could care for a little, futile man. When I've 
 done something, then " 
 
 " I know what you're thinking, Johnny ; don't go 
 into politics." 
 
 " I've got to. I don't want to go all my life as I 
 have gone, drudging along for a little money, drying 
 up in the routine, my outlook narrowing. I'd have 
 nothing to show in justification of my living. Why, 
 I'd be no better than Warren Blake, Aunt Roberta." 
 
 One might by a stretch of the imagination have 
 called the sound Miss Roberta emitted, a laugh.
 
 30 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 He pointed to the lowering sky. A vivid flash for 
 an instant tossed back the gathering darkness. She 
 saw his face grow suddenly eager, intense. 
 
 " I want to get into the storm of the vital things, 
 to see how big I am, to find out what I'm worth. 
 Surely I can do something better than examining 
 titles and drawing deeds and trying line-fence cases 
 all my life. I'm thirty already do you realize it? 
 and I've done nothing but drift. It isn't life. 
 That's what I want the big life of vital action." 
 
 " Life! You young folks are always talking about 
 life. What do you know about it? You go into the 
 storm and what do you get? You get you get 
 rheumatism of the soul that's what you get. And 
 when fair weather comes again, you're too stiff and 
 achey to know it. I know! And I know, too," she 
 added grimly, " there's no use talking. Don't sit up 
 all night." 
 
 He laughed again. She went into the house, leav 
 ing him to stare up into the racing storm. The chill, 
 damp wind stung his face and he joyed in it, and in 
 the splendid play of the lightning. So, he told him 
 self, he would joy in the play of those forces which 
 move men to good and ill. He was young ; fear could 
 not abide with him long. He watched until the clouds 
 opened and the slanting deluge fell.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 SUNSET 
 
 ACROSS Main Street from the court-house square 
 scene of Daniel Webster's famous speech, 
 the war-time demonstrations and the annual Repub 
 lican rally stands a red-brick, white-porticoed man 
 sion in the style we distinguish as colonial. In the gen 
 erous yard are several fine old chestnut trees, saplings 
 when the pioneer first set eyes on the Weehannock 
 Valley. From the street the passer-by can catch a 
 glimpse of an old-fashioned garden in the rear. This 
 house was built in the early thirties by Thomas Dun- 
 meade, founder of New Chelsea, then in his eightieth 
 year, a period of life when his thoughts should have 
 been centered on heavenly glories but were in fact 
 busied with the cares and vanities of this world. The 
 mahogany furnishings came west by way of the canal, 
 because the builder, a somewhat obstinate old gentle 
 man who had not forgotten the indignity of his de 
 parture from the Steel City on a rail, behind a reve 
 nue officer during a certain insurrection refused to 
 patronize the industries of that infant metropolis. 
 
 Thomas lived just long enough to install himself in 
 the new house ; then he died in an apoplectic fit follow 
 ing a choleric denunciation of Andrew Jackson. The 
 title to the house descended to the pioneer's son Rob 
 ert, a gentleman of parts who, as founder of the flour 
 
 31
 
 32 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 mills, brought commercial consequence, and as con 
 gressman for one term, the honors of statesmanship, 
 to the town of his nativity. In Robert's day the house 
 with the stately portico became a center of influence 
 even more effective if less aggressive than that of the 
 domineering Thomas. A guest-book kept during this 
 period records the names of many notables who tasted 
 Robert's hospitality. Daniel Webster himself on the 
 memorable occasion of his New Chelsea speech lay 
 overnight in the big spare room overlooking the gar 
 den. In Robert's later years his home became a hot 
 bed for the Abolition propaganda, the future of which 
 he foresaw. This work, with his considerable proper 
 ties, was in the gloomy days preceding the war handed 
 down to his son Hugh, the soldier and, later, the judge 
 of the house of Dunmeade. 
 
 Miss Roberta and John were sitting under a tree 
 in the front yard. It was Sabbath afternoon in New 
 Chelsea. No other phrase can quite do justice to the 
 heavy stillness, broken only by an occasional rooster's 
 crow raised in plaintive defiance of Presbyterian tra 
 ditions and by the far-off sacrilegious tinkle of a man 
 dolin, played doubtless by some hardy sinner, a sum 
 mer resident. In the middle of the air the instrument 
 suddenly became voiceless, as though overcome by the 
 unresponsiveness of the day. John laughed. 
 
 " I was betting he wouldn't play it through." 
 
 " I wonder," mused Miss Roberta, " how Steve 
 Hampden liked the sermon?" 
 
 " He probably wasn't listening." 
 
 " Warren Blake walked home from church with 
 Katherine," she remarked significantly. 
 
 "She was there, then?"
 
 SUNSET 33 
 
 "Didn't you see her?" 
 
 " I heard the stir when she came in. But, strange 
 to relate, I was more interested in the service, and I 
 forgot to look her up after church." 
 
 " Why won't you go to see her? " 
 
 John rose with a sigh of resignation. " Aunt 
 Roberta, you are a woman of one idea. I see I shall 
 have no peace of. mind until I've paid my respects to 
 this gilded lady. I go ! " 
 
 " Huh ! In my time young men were more man 
 nerly to attractive young ladies. Are you going to 
 take cards?" she inquired anxiously. 
 
 " And prove that New Chelsea knows what's what 
 in the world of fashion? My dear aunt, I leave that 
 to Warren Blake. Besides," he laughed, " I haven't 
 any." 
 
 He sauntered up Main Street into the newer part 
 of the town where the well-to-do summer resident had 
 encamped. At its extreme northerly edge he came to 
 the end of his journey. 
 
 He could never repress a smile when he saw it. 
 Almost within the span of his memory the evolution 
 of the Hampden place it was always called a 
 " place " keeping pace with its owner's fortune, had 
 been wrought. The first house on that site had been 
 a five-room, frame cottage, built just before the war 
 when Stephen Hampden was manager of the Dun- 
 meade mills. Hampden himself had painted that first 
 home; a fact of which in later years he, but not his 
 wife, was prone to boast. His own hands, too, had 
 set out the maples, which alone survived change of for 
 tune. But before the cottage needed repainting, the 
 mills had burned down never to be rebuilt, and he had
 
 34 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 moved to Plumville. It is said that he laid the foun 
 dation of his fortune in a certain contract for army 
 horse shoes. And Hampden was of those Yankee 
 necromancers who have discovered what baffled the 
 alchemists of the dark ages, a philosopher's stone to 
 transmute oil, coal, iron even Plumville real estate ! 
 into gold. In the seventies, being then owner of 
 that city's largest iron foundry, he inaugurated the 
 custom of returning to New Chelsea for the hot 
 months. The little cottage was torn down. In its 
 place was reared a red-brick house, liberally adorned 
 with turrets and scroll-work in the style of that period; 
 cast-iron deer were set up in the yard. It is remem 
 bered in New Chelsea that Steve Hampden was ex 
 ceedingly proud of this new home. 
 
 The foundry grew; even outgrew its owner, whose 
 taste, if not his talents, ran to speculation rather than 
 to production. He sold out and went to the Steel 
 City to pursue fortune via the bourse and the real es 
 tate market. In these days New Chelsea saw him 
 and his family only semi-occasionally ; the house with 
 the turrets and the iron deer had attained the dignity 
 of a " country place." Then New Chelsea heard that 
 Steve Hampden had been admitted into the enviable 
 and exclusive circle of millionaires. With wealth and 
 travel came taste. The " country house " was remod 
 eled; although just why, New Chelsea did not know, 
 since its simple charms seemed to have paled before 
 the glittering splendor of Newport and Lenox. (New 
 Chelsea, whose knowledge of " society " was some 
 what vague, took a mighty pride in the Hampdens' so 
 cial adventures, as amplified by rumor and the Globe.} 
 The turrets were razed; wings were added to the
 
 SUNSET 35 
 
 house; dwarf magnolias took the place of the cast-iron 
 deer ; rhododendrons were banked around the house. 
 The iron picket-fence was removed and a hedge 
 planted in its stead. Not all the architect's devices 
 could make of the house a thing of beauty, so ivy was 
 planted and trained to enshroud its naked ugliness. 
 A few years with nature, assisted by the English 
 gardener, and the transformation was complete. 
 
 But not enough ! For New Chelsea knew of another 
 structure in course of erection on the crest of East 
 Ridge ; to be the " palatial residence," as the Globe 
 took pleasure in reporting, " of our fellow citizen, 
 Stephen Hampden, who it is hoped will be often in 
 our midst." 
 
 A butler answered John's ring and on inquiry in 
 formed him that the ladies were not at home. 
 
 "Will you wait, sir?" 
 
 " No." And John turned away to ponder this phe 
 nomenon. 
 
 " A butler in New Chelsea ! And I had no 
 cards ! " 
 
 He walked out into the country across the bridge 
 at the confluence of North Branch and South Branch, 
 where rises Grant's Knob. He followed the path that 
 leads, corkscrew fashion, to the crest of the knob, 
 and there, in the thick shade of a big walnut, leaning 
 against an old boulder that had crowned the knob 
 longer than John could remember, sat the object of his 
 quest. 
 
 He had an instant to look at her before she observed 
 him, and smilingly he availed himself of it. And 
 very charming, very alluring she was to his eyes, in 
 her light, summery gown and the big, soft leghorn
 
 36 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 hat with its flowers and leaves dancing in the breeze. 
 An open book lay in her lap, but she was not reading. 
 Through half-closed eyes she was gazing dreamily at 
 the hills that marched away into the blue distance. 
 He had time to note that her face was unsmiling. 
 Her gravity invested her with a soft girlishness that the 
 confident, metallic young woman of the sunrise had 
 lacked. He did not guess how long the picture then 
 printed on his memory would remain with him. 
 
 He took a step toward her; she heard him and 
 looked up. 
 
 " Hello ! " he said. 
 
 " Good afternoon." Her salutation was very cool 
 indeed. 
 
 He cast about for something witty to say. All he 
 could think of was, " I didn't expect to find you 
 here." 
 
 "Didn't you?" 
 
 He smiled. " Did you get home in time for break 
 fast the other morning?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I was well scolded for being so late. Aunt 
 Roberta rules me with a rod of iron." 
 
 " You probably need it." 
 
 "I do. Has Crusader recovered?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Of course, if you don't want me to stay " 
 
 " It isn't my hill." 
 
 He laughed outright. " Her tactics never vary, it 
 seems," he remarked. " Effective, though. Queer, 
 isn't it, how attractive a girl becomes when she puts 
 on that frigid, speak-to-me-if-you-dare manner!"
 
 SUNSET 37 
 
 " That could have been conveyed more wittily, I 
 think." 
 
 " For instance? I am not unwilling to learn." 
 
 " I should have said, * Even the undesired becomes 
 interesting when it is unattainable.' Or " 
 
 " O, that is quite sufficient ! I bow to your superior 
 wit. Only, as always with epigrams, it isn't strictly 
 true." He stood with hands in pockets and feet 
 spread apart, surveying her curiously. " So you're 
 Katherine Hampden ! " 
 
 " You were very stupid not to know it the other 
 day." 
 
 " But I remembered you " 
 
 " You mean, you forgot all about me." 
 
 " as an impudent, long-legged, freckled tomboy 
 with red hair, while you " He paused deliberately. 
 
 " My hair was never red," she replied coldly. 
 
 " Yes, it was when the sun was on it," he contra 
 dicted firmly. " The sun is on it now ! " His eyes 
 were bolder than his tongue. She promptly turned 
 her head so that the big hat shaded the tresses in con 
 troversy. 
 
 Suddenly the clouds broke away. She returned to 
 him with a laugh. " O, I can't keep it up. But where 
 did you get your courage? You weren't nearly so 
 brave the other morning." 
 
 " I didn't know who you were then. Mystery al 
 ways frightens me a little." 
 
 " But you really don't know me now." 
 
 " That can be quickly remedied," he answered 
 briskly. 
 
 " You are a long time beginning. I've been here six
 
 38 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 days. Why haven't you come to see me?" she de 
 manded. 
 
 " Well, you see," he began lamely to explain, " I've 
 had a good many important things to think about 
 and" 
 
 " And I was neither important nor interesting. You 
 need practice, I see." 
 
 "But you are." 
 
 "You really find me interesting? You know, I've 
 worked hard, very hard, to earn the involuntary, gen 
 erous compliment I am about to receive." 
 
 "I do surprisingly so," he responded promptly. 
 
 " You needn't be so surprised," she retorted. " I 
 was always rather presentable, in spite of the freckles, 
 only you wouldn't condescend to notice it. You 
 didn't like me." 
 
 " But you were such a pesky little nuisance, you 
 know," he explained. " You had no reverence for old 
 age. You persisted in upsetting my dignity at every 
 chance. And I thought a lot of my dignity in those 
 days. Let me see," he added reflectively, " that was 
 yes, it's been ten years since I last saw you. Not 
 counting the other morning, of course." 
 
 " No, eight," she corrected him. " You saw me 
 after the big game, the time you saved the day. You 
 walked right by me, looking straight into my eyes 
 and never recognized me. You were too anxious to 
 reach Adele Whittington and be made a hero of by 
 her." 
 
 He laughed self-consciously. "Oh, Adele! And 
 is that play still remembered? But I wasn't a hero, 
 you know. It was a lucky fluke. I really wasn't a
 
 SUNSET 39 
 
 good player, but things broke luckily for me those 
 days." 
 
 " Yes," she nodded, " you would be apt to say that. 
 But Adele didn't think so. She was as proud as 
 as I'd have been, if I'd had the chance to exhibit 
 you." 
 
 "How is Adele?" 
 
 " O, she's dreading thirty, is fighting down a tend 
 ency to fat, has begun to paint and often asks about 
 you. Are you still in love with her? And am I a 
 cat to talk so about her ? And has she had many suc 
 cessors ? " 
 
 " No, to all three questions. She gave me a bad 
 three months, though." 
 
 " I'm glad of it," she declared vengefully. " Be 
 cause am I not brazen ? you gave me a bad 
 longer time than that. Everybody teased me about it. 
 Didn't you know I was terribly in love with you? 
 That's what made me such a pesky little nuisance. 
 O, you needn't look so shocked, since it was only calf 
 love and I have quite recovered. Quite ! " 
 
 He burst into a roar of laughter. " I beg your par 
 don," he gasped, when he had partially recovered his 
 gravity. " I'm not laughing at you, at myself. For 
 a second I almost believed that ha ! ha ! you 
 meant it." He held out his hand. " Are you aware 
 that we haven't shaken hands? I am delighted to 
 meet you again." 
 
 She put her hands behind her back and observed 
 him suspiciously. " I'm not quite sure that you 
 weren't laughing at me. You're assured that I'm not 
 flirting with you? "
 
 40 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 " Why should you flirt with me when Warren 
 Blake is in town? " 
 
 Suspicion broke up in smiles. " Do you want to 
 make me giggle? Why shouldn't I, since there's no 
 one else in town but Warren ? But you're quite sure 
 I'm not, aren't you? " 
 
 "Quite sure." 
 
 " You're fibbing now, and not at all convincingly. 
 But" 
 
 She placed her hand in his. 
 
 So, while the golden afternoon waned, they ex 
 changed pleasant nonsense. His spirits rose unac 
 countably. He was very boyish, very gay. Some 
 times they rose to half-serious discussion that skipped 
 lightly and audaciously about from peak to peak of 
 human knowledge. He discovered that she had read 
 Nietzsche, at least enough for conversational purposes, 
 that they differed widely on Ibsen and agreed on 
 Meredith and that she gloried in Wagner. " It is the 
 tremendous quality of his work over which people 
 rave, and for once they are right. Elemental strength, 
 the grandeur of primitive passion, for good or ill, just 
 about describes it. You agree?" Out of his scant 
 acquaintance with the composer in question he agreed, 
 smiling at her enthusiasm. She had traveled much 
 with her father, who, it appeared, had " really learned 
 how to travel," having to make the most of his lim 
 ited leisure. She knew places not starred in Baedeker, 
 quaint, obscure corners of the earth, full of color. 
 John helped out this part of the talk with questions 
 more or less intelligent. She was pleased to com 
 mend his interest. 
 
 " One could almost believe you had been there.
 
 SUNSET 41 
 
 You would enjoy these places, I know. Not every 
 one does. I'd love to visit, not do, them with you 
 sometime." 
 
 " I'd like to, very much. But," he answered sim 
 ply, " I'm afraid it will be a long, long time before I 
 can afford it." 
 
 She turned and surveyed him thoughtfully. " Now 
 I like that the way you said it, I mean. Most of 
 the men I've met lately have lots of money. The 
 ones who haven't are always making a poor mouth 
 about being hard up, as though they were half ashamed 
 of it and entirely detested it. But you spoke of it in 
 such a matter-of-fact way, as though the lack or pos 
 session of money were really of no great importance 
 to you." 
 
 " It slipped out," he confessed. " I don't like to 
 seem to pose. I make enough for my immediate 
 needs, of course, and some day I expect to have more 
 though not wealth as you probably measure it. 
 But I honestly think money, in large quantities that 
 is, isn't really important. At least, I haven't found it 
 so yet." 
 
 " I've wondered about that sometimes whether 
 it is really important to me, I mean. I'm not sure. 
 I do like the things it buys. But even more I like to 
 think of the power it represents. It's that, and the 
 game of getting it, that makes men want money in large 
 quantities. Don't you think so?" 
 
 " I have heard so," he answered cautiously. 
 
 "But you don't agree?" 
 
 He remembered certain rumors he had heard con 
 cerning Stephen Hampden's rise to wealth and he put 
 a guard upon his lips.
 
 42 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 " I don't know much about it, I fear," which was 
 entirely true. 
 
 " You may bring yourself to date," she said. 
 
 " There isn't much to tell. After college I went to 
 law school, then settled here. The family name, and 
 father's being judge, helped me to a quick start, I sup 
 pose. Since then I have done about as well as the 
 average young lawyer in a small town. That is all. 
 It is very commonplace." 
 
 "Hamlet minus Hamlet, of course. It doesn't ex 
 plain why you are wanted by a whole county." 
 
 " You have that from the Globe" he smiled. 
 
 " But I have heard it from other sources since. 
 Why do they want you ? " she persisted. 
 
 " I don't know," he answered veraciously. " I 
 don't even know that they want me. It is to be 
 proven." 
 
 " I'd find that out quickly," she said thoughtfully. 
 " And why. It's your chance to escape the common 
 place, isn't it? Popularity means power, and power 
 is splendid always I'm primitive, you see. I 
 would use it, revel in it, make it lift me into the high 
 places. Dad says every one believes you have a big 
 future. Which is good evidence that you have a big 
 future, isn't it?" 
 
 " The wisdom of twenty-three ! " he laughed. 
 
 " O, if you won't take me seriously ! Just as I 
 was preparing to plan your future so nicely, too. If 
 we are to be good friends we are, aren't we ? you 
 mustn't try to hold me off when I seem to take a too 
 intimate interest in your affairs. I have an unfor 
 tunate propensity for that sort of thing and I like 
 it. Dad says I have the most intrusively executive
 
 SUNSET 43 
 
 mind he ever met. He is very nice about it. He 
 often asks me what I think of things and men " 
 
 " And then forms his own opinions ? " 
 
 " That," she sighed, " is the disappointing fact." 
 
 "Did you plan that?" He pointed to a grove of 
 trees on the crest of East Ridge, through which 
 gleamed the white stucco walls of that palatial resi 
 dence so frequently mentioned in the Globe. 
 
 "Yes. Do you like it?" 
 
 " I haven't seen it except at a distance. Er are 
 you building an institution for the blind? " 
 
 She laughed gaily. 
 
 " Not unless dad's belief in his perspicacity, which I 
 share, is without justification. But please don't 
 poke fun at it. I'm rather proud of it. I'll take you 
 there some day and you shall see for yourself." 
 
 "But why," still pointing, "in New Chelsea?" 
 
 "Why not?" she argued with spirit. "Aren't 
 our hills as beautiful as the Berkshires, and the air as 
 fine? Why shouldn't we enjoy the place the money 
 comes from? Dad says a lot of money is to come 
 from this valley in the next few years." 
 
 His face became suddenly grave. Thinking of her 
 last words, he looked down at the quaint, old-fash 
 ioned, drowsing town that lay at the foot of the knob. 
 Then his gaze wandered out to the green slopes of the 
 valley, turning yellow in squares under the warm kiss 
 of the sun. It swept for miles before him, seem 
 ing shut off from the world by the rampart of the 
 hills; yet, he knew, one could sit in a canoe and float 
 from the valley to the southern gulf. By the same 
 trail over which sons of New Chelsea had gone out, 
 the world, even then threatening far away across
 
 44 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 the hills hovered a perennial cloud, smoke of Plum- 
 ville's mills might invade, with its tumult and haste, 
 its fever for conquest. Already it was being whis 
 pered that the sudden return of the captain of finance, 
 the building of the big house with its air of perma 
 nence, were not without commercial significance. 
 John was a young man given to sentiment. His first 
 impulse was to protest against what seemed an immi 
 nent desecration of the lazy, restful beauty of the 
 valley. 
 
 " I was thinking of New Chelsea," he said dryly. 
 " So the old order changeth. The world of fashion 
 and finance comes aknocking at our door. Our peace 
 ful valley is to be exploited." 
 
 " Is there any virtue in closing one's door to prog 
 ress?" 
 
 " Are we not progressive ? Main Street is being 
 paved. We are to have a new station in the fall. And 
 there is talk of building a new court-house." 
 
 " You're a very frivolous person, I see ! That is 
 the cry of inertia. Why shouldn't a community make 
 the most of itself, just as a man wants to make a big 
 place for himself?" 
 
 And' he was silenced, recalling words of his own. 
 
 She rose and stood gazing out over the valley. 
 "Look!" The line of shadow, flung by the knob 
 athwart the slope of its neighbor, had passed the last 
 terrace of East Ridge. Like a runner finishing his 
 race, it seemed to gather added speed as it neared the 
 summit. 
 
 " Can't you see the world moving and New Chel 
 sea with it? "
 
 SUNSET 45 
 
 He was not looking at the shadow but at her, 
 silhouetted against the sky, strong with the strength 
 of women whose fathers have toiled close to the soil, 
 eager, palpitating with life, for life. He could see 
 the profile of her face, a hint too firm for mere 
 beauty; the masses of brown hair with its tint of 
 flame, the fearless, level-gazing gray eyes, the eager, 
 confident poise of her head. He wondered curiously 
 what manner of woman she was or might become 
 with her girlish inconsequence, her veneer of mem 
 orized information, her superficial, haphazard read 
 ing, her unconsciously amusing air as she lightly dis 
 posed of problems that had baffled the ages, beneath 
 all of which he sensed an abounding vitality ; and what 
 lay under the precocious hardness that could see only 
 the picturesque in a ramshackle, poverty-stricken Ital 
 ian village and could dismiss with a careless laugh the 
 fate of a chick in a hawk's clutches. 
 
 The line of shadow passed the summit of East 
 Ridge; the valley lay in twilight. They watched un 
 til the sun sank. The blue haze of the distant hills 
 became purple, black. Already a thin ribbon of rising 
 mist marked the course of the river. Into the western 
 sky were flung the emblazoned banners of the dying 
 day. 
 
 " Shall we go down?" 
 
 Together they went slowly down into the valley 
 and its twilight. 
 
 " We have now seen," she said, " a sunrise and a 
 sunset together." 
 
 " ' And the evening and the morning were the first 
 day/ " he quoted smilingly.
 
 46 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 " I wonder what the next day holds." 
 
 " Aunt Roberta," he laughed, " hopes that I'll fall 
 in love with you." 
 
 " How perfectly absurd ! Although it might redress 
 the balance. Unless," she added demurely, " I should 
 suffer a return of my youthful malady." 
 
 " Which would be doubly absurd. It's like chicken- 
 pox. Having had one attack, you are thereafter im 
 mune." 
 
 They laughed gaily. 
 
 On the terrace little tables were set and John re 
 newed his acquaintance with Stephen Hampden, a 
 short, stocky, pleasant-voiced man, who in no way re 
 sembled the marauding pirate that rumor had him; 
 also with Mrs. Hampden, a lady who toiled not nor 
 spun, but was always tired and talked in a languid, 
 honeyed voice. There were also Warren Blake, sol 
 emn and handsome; and his mother, a shy, faded old 
 woman, frightened in the presence of " society folk," 
 and not altogether happy in the Sunday splendor of 
 best black silk and bonnet. After the interruption, 
 Mrs. Hampden continued her drawling explanation 
 to Warren, a patient listener, that one needn't be in 
 Newport before August and that really, since England 
 had discovered American society, that gilded resort 
 and its sisters, Lenox and Tuxedo, were become as 
 English as Bath. She went on, however, to inform 
 him that Newport would be deprived of the Hamp- 
 dens' presence that summer, because she had the new 
 house to open and, moreover, preferred to remain 
 with her husband, who had important business matters 
 to oversee.
 
 SUNSET 47 
 
 " She means," Katherine whispered, " that dad 
 caught a tartar in Wall Street." 
 
 Thereafter Warren was left to the tender mercies 
 of his hostess, Hampden strove to put Mrs. Blake at 
 her ease, and John and Katherine flirted outrageously 
 at their table, whither Warren cast occasional furtive 
 glances. Later the Blakes rose to leave ; Warren with 
 surprising tact covering the awkwardness of his 
 mother's farewells, and then, unostentatiously gentle, 
 escorting her away. 
 
 Hampden caught his wife yawning daintily. " Well, 
 Maria, since you're so tired, we might as well go in 
 and leave these young people to themselves. The 
 chaperon has no standing in New Chelsea. We've 
 got to remember how the old folks used to let us alone 
 when we were sparking." He grinned wickedly at 
 Katherine whose composure was not ruffled in the 
 slightest. 
 
 " Stephen, don't be vulgar," his wife rebuked him 
 sighingly. After a languid good night to John she 
 went, with an air of utter weariness, into the house. 
 
 Hampden, however, for the space of one cigar, re 
 mained on the terrace, chatting pleasantly, during 
 which time John discovered that even Steve Hampden, 
 hard driver of men and daring speculator, had a very 
 likable side and took a mighty pride in his daughter. 
 When the cigar had been tossed away, Hampden rose, 
 shaking hands cordially with John. 
 
 " I'd better take my own advice. I have to work 
 to-morrow, but don't you miss this fairy night. Come 
 around often, John. And don't let this girl flirt the 
 head from your shoulders."
 
 48 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 " I'm already fearful for my peace of mind," John 
 laughed. " But I shall come often, thank you." 
 
 Afterward, while the moon crawled almost to mid- 
 sky, he and Katherine sat in a pleasant intimacy tha<\ 
 speeded by the moonlight, traveled far, listening to the 
 hymn of the night intoned by the crickets and whisper 
 ing leaves. He went home at last, in high good hu 
 mor with the world and the people in it.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE NAZARITE 
 
 TT would be evidence of an officious surveillance to 
 * set down here just how often John Dunmeade 
 journeyed to the ugly house behind the hedge; it was 
 not, however, thanks to the duties of his candidacy, 
 as often as he would have liked. There were occa 
 sional tennis matches in which he was hard pushed to 
 defeat her. Golden flecks appeared on Katherine's 
 cheeks and nose, and she discovered that her endur 
 ance was greater than his. 
 
 " You smoke too much," she told him one day with 
 that air of finality which she employed to voice obvi 
 ous truths. " One should always be in training. 
 Health is so important to a man who wants to do big 
 things." 
 
 He cut down his smoking to four pipes a day. 
 
 But there were other matters demanding the atten 
 tion of John Dunmeade, Republican nominee for the 
 office of district attorney by grace of the bosses' 
 choice. For he saw an army, whose discipline and 
 weapons and effectiveness caused him to wonder, go 
 forth to war. Not with pomp and panoply that 
 was to come later; this was the time for scout and 
 reconnaissance, for the drawing of maps, the seizing 
 of strategic positions and for numbering the enemy. 
 The enemy the people John perceived, made no 
 
 49
 
 50 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 counter preparations, did not even see the necessity. 
 Like many another man he began to feel the signifi 
 cance of an institution to which he had grown used 
 only when he had an immediate personal interest in it. 
 And the campaign was one of conquest, and the army 
 was paid as Napoleon paid the soldiers of his army 
 of Italy. 
 
 Jeremy Applegate one day gave John a new point 
 of view. Jeremy was an old soldier, a cripple, and a 
 clerk in the recorder's office. Of such as Jeremy, Sen 
 ator Murchell once said cynically, " Fill the jobs with 
 cripples. A cripple will get as many votes as five big, 
 husky fellows who ought to be doing a man's work." 
 
 " I'm almighty glad," said Jeremy, " that for once 
 I've got to work for a man I got some respect for." 
 
 " You don't have to work for me, Jeremy, though 
 I hope you will." 
 
 " Don't have to ! Where'd my job be, if I didn't 
 work for the ticket?" 
 
 Then the smoldering resentment found voice. 
 Jeremy grumbled, as soldiers sometimes will. 
 
 " I'm a pretty specimen of citizen, ain't I? " he ex 
 claimed bitterly. " I got a job. It ain't a Republican, 
 it's a county job. Democrats help to pay my salary. 
 Why've I got it because I'm fit for it ? Guess you 
 lawyers that have to read my kinky handwrite know 
 better'n that. It's because I'm an old soldier and a 
 peg-leg and the kind of shrimp that'll go round whinin' 
 to his friends about his job so's to get them to vote the 
 ticket. Yessir, I'm that kind. I fit for my country all 
 right, but I did it because it was my duty, not so's to 
 be able tc get a job and beg for votes afterwards. I 
 was a man then. Now I'm a parasite. For nigh onto
 
 THE NAZARITE 51 
 
 twenty years I've done it, because I can't make a livin' 
 any other way, for good men and bad men, for them 
 I can respect mostly for them I can't respect. I 
 ain't allowed a mind of my own ner a conscience and 
 every time I go campaignin' I feel like a pup. Do 
 you know what it is? It's hell, that's what it is." 
 
 " What we need," said John, " is civil service." 
 
 " Civil service ! They've got civil service in the 
 post-office. Did you ever hear of a postmaster or his 
 clerk that wasn't in politics? They've got to be in and 
 stay in, or they couldn't get or keep their jobs. 
 There ain't any way out of it," he sighed. " If I 
 quit, they'd find another shrimp. And if somebody 
 licked us and took this office from us, they'd fire me 
 and put in some feller that'd do the same as me. 
 There ain't any chance for a man to serve his country 
 these days. It's rotten, that's what it is rotten ! " 
 
 He turned away, mumbling to himself. 
 
 But a grumbling soldier often is a good fighter; 
 witness Jeremy on a scouting expedition. It begins 
 at the establishment of Silas Hicks, liveryman. 
 Jeremy, being a peg-leg, can not tramp the weary 
 miles ahead of him. 
 
 Silas grins knowingly as he receives his patron. 
 " Campaign started, eh ? " 
 
 " Uh-huh ! " Jeremy sighs. 
 
 " I'll give you old Kim." Silas leads out a raw- 
 boned, ancient, white steed. " Kim, he oughta draw 
 a salary from the organization. That there horse'll 
 smell out a Republican an' shy at a Democrat every 
 time, he's been out campaignin' that often. Yessir! 
 Looks to me," he adds inquiringly, " as if Johnny 
 Dunmeade'll have a walk-over."
 
 52 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 "It's the state ticket that'll make the trouble." 
 Jeremy sighs again. 
 
 He drives out into the country, brow-wrinkled as he 
 marshals his arguments. He has no eyes for the 
 calm beauty of the afternoon. He pulls in the jog 
 ging horse beside a field in the middle of which a man 
 is seen driving a hay-rake. In response to Jeremy's 
 hail the man descends from his seat and walks slowly 
 over to the fence. 
 
 " Howdy, comrade," says Jeremy. 
 
 " Howdy, Jeremy." 
 
 " Good harvestin' weather." 
 
 " Purty good," comrade agrees. There is not a 
 cloud in the sky. 
 
 "Smoke?" suggests Jeremy. From a bulging 
 pocket he draws forth a cigar girdled by a gaudy red- 
 and-gold band. They are very good cigars, costing 
 ten dollars the hundred. At home repose three boxes 
 of them, recently purchased. Jeremy has needed a 
 new suit and his wife a new dress for more than a 
 year. These luxuries, however, must be postponed 
 for the purchase of ammunition. For this is war; 
 and Jeremy, as we have seen, subscribes to General 
 Sherman's definition. 
 
 The farmer holds the cigar to his nose, sniffing ap 
 provingly. " I'll keep it till after supper." He de 
 posits it carefully on the bottom rail of the fence be 
 side his water- jug. 
 
 Jeremy resojrts again to the bulging pocket. " Keep 
 that and smoke this now," he offers generously. The 
 farmer lights the cigar. From another pocket Jeremy 
 draws forth his own weed. This pocket is not so well
 
 THE NAZARITE 53 
 
 filled and contains only " three-fers " for Jeremy's 
 own consumption. 
 
 After further preliminaries Jeremy opens fire. 
 
 " S'pose you're goin' to git into line this fall, same 
 as ever, comrade?" he remarks casually. 
 
 The farmer leans on the fence in an attitude suited 
 to comfortable argument. " Well, I don't know's I 
 am." 
 
 " With Johnny Dunmeade on the ticket ! " 
 
 " I'll vote for him. He's all right. Does my law 
 work. I don't think much of the state ticket, though." 
 
 "You ain't goin' back on the party, are you?" 
 Jeremy cries reproachfully. 
 
 " I might. Don't know yet." 
 
 Forthwith Jeremy launches into a passionate de 
 fense of the Republican party, in which the tariff and 
 the single gold standard are freely mentioned. Refer 
 ence is made also to the days when comrade and he 
 shared blankets together on the red soil of Virginia. 
 He talks rapidly, dreading to hear the argument which 
 he can not answer. Comrade is not unimpressed but 
 is far from conviction. 
 
 " Well, I don't know," he says slowly. And then 
 brings forth the thing that has been haunting Jeremy's 
 nights and days. " I'm bothered some about that trust 
 company business. Looks to me as if some of Mur- 
 chell's politicians was at the bottom of it. When they 
 git to foolin' with our banks, it's time to make a 
 change. If we let 'em go on, how'm I to know that 
 my bank ain't mixed up with 'em? " 
 
 There is a silence, while Jeremy braces himself for 
 his duty. " I know. It it's been botherin' me, too.
 
 54 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 But," he looks away and tries manfully to keep the 
 whine out of his voice, " I'm askin' you as a favor to 
 me to overlook it. They've served notice on me that 
 I've got to bring in my list for the whole ticket or my 
 job goes. You you're on my list, comrade." Into 
 Jeremy's eyes comes the look of a whipped dog. 
 
 There is another silence, a longer one, while the 
 farmer chews his cigar reflectively. 
 
 " Well," he says at last, " I'd like to do ye a favor, 
 Jeremy. I'll think it over." 
 
 " Yes," answers Jeremy, " think it over. It means 
 a good deal to me. Well, I guess I'll be moseyin' 
 along." 
 
 But while Jeremy, protesting, accepts his tragi 
 comic serfdom, another more important to this 
 chronicle is patiently weaving his destiny. 
 
 Many years before there had come to New Chelsea a 
 shepherd to lead the Presbyterian flock and to die, 
 leaving his wife, a shy, plain little woman, and her 
 son, to struggle with the problem of existence. She 
 must have struggled effectively, for New Chelsea 
 bears witness that never was recourse had to its ready 
 charity. Some credit must be given to the son who, 
 when public school-days were over, bent himself to the 
 problem: a moon- faced lad who blinked uncompre- 
 hendingly at the teasing and pranks of his former 
 schoolmates. Slow, patient, unobtrusive, of the sort 
 that despite sundry time-honored maxims usually finds 
 recognition reluctant, he yet won it quickly. 
 
 When those of his generation whose fathers had 
 been able to provide a college education returned on 
 the threshold of manhood to begin life, they found 
 Warren Blake already, in the eyes of his neighbors, a
 
 THE NAZARITE 55 
 
 success, assistant cashier of the bank and owner of 
 certain small mortgages ; but not at all boastful over it. 
 He continued, even when he became cashier, modestly 
 unaware that he had become a model young man; 
 willing to say, " I don't know," when the fact war 
 ranted the admission and equally willing to fill the 
 gaps of his knowledge. It was said that he had no im 
 agination and was without a philosophy of life; which, 
 since he was a success, was probably untrue. He was 
 a literal man who took all things seriously, his duty 
 to his bank, his treasurership of the Presbyterian 
 Church, even the matter of clothes, of which 
 through close observation in hotel lobbies and pains 
 taking study of certain magazines devoted to the sar 
 torial art he had acquired a discriminating knowl 
 edge ; this last, as his only outward evidence of vanity, 
 New Chelsea after a period of suspicious hesitation 
 forgave. He was rarely known to laugh. 
 
 After thirty-five years' acquaintance New Chelsea 
 had found no explanation of him; it was admitted that 
 even Judge Dunmeade, who had a liking for sonorous 
 phrases, had failed with his " triumph of the com 
 monplace virtues." And it continued to choose War 
 ren Blake as treasurer for those organizations requir 
 ing such an officer, executor of its last wills and testa 
 ments and trustee of its estates; of which trusts he 
 always rendered prompt and exact accounts. 
 
 And now, all New Chelsea knew, he and Stephen 
 Hampden were organizing a company of fabulous cap 
 italization to work the coal-fields. 
 
 One morning in mid-July Warren was as usual at 
 his desk. The day had already become hot and 
 stifling. The clerks at the counter grumbled pro-
 
 56 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 fanely at the rule, promulgated by Warren, that for 
 bade them to appear coatless, and glanced enviously 
 through the plate-glass partition at the cashier, very 
 handsome and cool-looking in his light gray suit, socks 
 and necktie to match. He was reading, with a slow 
 care that overlooked no syllable, the papers on the desk. 
 When he had read them he arranged them in two neat 
 little piles which he labeled " Options Granted " and 
 " Options Refused." 
 
 As this task was completed Stephen Hampden en 
 tered the bank with a pleasant nod in reply to the 
 clerks' respectful greeting. He made his way into the 
 cashier's office. 
 
 " Phew ! " he whistled, drawing a chair up to the 
 desk. " It's a hot day, isn't it? How do you manage 
 to keep so cool ? " 
 
 " By not thinking about the heat." Warren opened 
 a drawer and drew forth a box of cigars, which he 
 opened and proffered to his visitor. 
 
 " Thought you didn't allow smoking during hours," 
 said Hampden, selecting a cigar. 
 
 " The clerks aren't president of the bank." Hamp 
 den looked in vain for an accompanying smile. 
 
 " Well, I'll exercise the presidential prerogative." 
 He lighted the cigar. " Have you the options? " 
 
 Warren pushed the two piles of documents toward 
 him. At one Hampden merely glanced; the other, 
 " Options Refused," he opened and read rapidly. 
 
 " H-m-m ! All Deer Township properties. Why 
 won't they sign ? " 
 
 " They want cash, not stock, for their coal." 
 
 " Did you point out to them the prospective value 
 of the stock? And the necessity of being all in one
 
 THE NAZARITE 57 
 
 company to prevent price-cutting? And the oppor 
 tunity to improve the community by opening up a new 
 business? " 
 
 " I did. But we're not trying to improve the com 
 munity, we're trying to make money for ourselves." 
 
 " I'm afraid, Warren, you were the wrong man to 
 send after those options." 
 
 " I was," said Warren calmly. " I told you so at 
 first. I'm not a clever talker." 
 
 " I don't want to tie up any more cash in this than 
 I have to. How would it work to send John Dun- 
 meade after those options? We could make him at 
 torney for us and the company and give him stock. 
 What do you think?" 
 
 Warren took several minutes to consider this sug 
 gestion. " He can do it if any one can," he said at 
 last. " He is very popular among the farmers. 
 Everybody likes him. I like him, too, though he is 
 always laughing at me." 
 
 " Eh? Why does he laugh at you? " Hampden in 
 quired. 
 
 " I don't know," answered Warren evenly. " I 
 shall ask him sometime. Shall I send for him?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Warren opened the door and sent one of his clerks 
 with the message. Then he sat down, staring thought 
 fully at the smoke from Hampden's cigar. Hampden 
 took up a pad and pencil and began to make some cal 
 culations. 
 
 " He won't do it," Warren said suddenly. 
 
 " Why not ? " Hampden looked up from his pen 
 ciling. 
 
 "He's honest."
 
 58 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 " Aren't we honest ? " Hampden demanded sharply. 
 
 " We're not sentimental," Warren answered 
 calmly. " He is. We're trying to take advantage 
 legitimately, of course of the farmers in a bargain. 
 That's the thing he likes to fight." 
 
 " Not at all," Hampden contradicted coldly. " This 
 is a straight business proposition. And I guess he'll 
 not be sentimental when we offer him, say, ten thou 
 sand in stock. We can let him have that much 
 without losing control. I've never noticed anything 
 of the fool in John Dunmeade. Even though," he 
 added, " he sometimes laughs at you, Warren." 
 
 Warren ignored this thrust. " I don't think he'll 
 take it," he insisted, without warmth. " And he isn't 
 a fool. He doesn't need money. He's the sort that 
 people take to, whether he has it or not. I'm not like 
 that. I've got to have money to get people's respect. 
 You're that kind, too." 
 
 "Eh?" Hampden stared, half-amused, half-an 
 gered by Warren's matter-of-fact explanation. War 
 ren was not in the habit of talking of himself. 
 " Turned philosopher, have you ? " 
 
 " No, I don't philosophize. I've just noticed that," 
 Warren responded, unmoved by the sneer. 
 
 " You'd better," said Hampden grimly, " stick to 
 banking, where you're at home." 
 
 A few minutes later John entered the bank. Hamp 
 den greeted him cordially. 
 
 " Now don't," he protested jocosely, " make any 
 comment on the heat. It's no use you'll get no 
 sympathy from Warren here." 
 
 " O," John laughed, " nothing ever can put a wrinkle 
 in our glass of fashion." Warren smiled meaning-
 
 THE NAZARITE 59 
 
 lessly. " And that's not such a badly-mixed metaphor 
 either, as you would know if you saw Aunt Roberta's 
 collection of antiques." 
 
 " I know," Hampden chuckled. " We've had the 
 antique fever, too." 
 
 Warren listened patiently while the other men used 
 up a few minutes in pleasant preliminaries. Hamp 
 den told cleverly a humorous story or two which John 
 dexterously tossed back in lively but respectful jibes. 
 It can not be truthfully said that Warren enjoyed the 
 play of humor. He could never understand why men, 
 met for serious purpose, almost invariably preceded 
 business with a period of playful fencing; he pre-, 
 f erred to go straight to the point of the meeting, per 
 haps because he could not fence. 
 
 They came at last to the purpose of John's sum 
 mons. 
 
 " I suppose you've heard of our coal proposition? " 
 Hampden suggested. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " There will be a good deal of legal work in con 
 nection with it. Is there room among your clients for 
 one more ? " 
 
 " I might find room," said John soberly, " with a 
 little crowding." Warren, aware that this was hu 
 morously intended, permitted himself to smile. 
 
 In a few rapid, terse sentences Hampden outlined 
 his plan of organization. Mindful of Warren's pre 
 diction and seeing John's face grow gravely dubious, 
 he endeavored to make his explanation quite matter- 
 of-fact. 
 
 " Of course," he concluded, " you're familiar with 
 the details. There is nothing new in the plan."
 
 60 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 " We don't know much about high finance in New 
 Chelsea. But I read the papers sometimes. It is al 
 most a classic, I should say," John replied. 
 
 " Substantially the plan of all promotions," Hamp- 
 den agreed. 
 
 " Let's see if I get you right. You take the options 
 in your own name, agreeing to pay for the coal in 
 stock of your company. Then you agree to turn the 
 properties over to the company for a little more than 
 twice this consideration, out of which you pay the 
 farmers. This gives you control of the company that 
 owns the coal, and it hasn't cost you a cent. The 
 money for development and operating you lend the 
 company, taking as security first mortgage bonds." 
 He hesitated, looking directly at Hampden. " That 
 hardly gives the farmers a square deal, does it ? " 
 
 The pupils of Hampden's eyes contracted suddenly. 
 " Certainly it does," he answered with some emphasis, 
 " since it converts properties that have been eating 
 themselves up in taxes into a producing proposition. 
 I didn't say," he added carelessly, " that your fee 
 ought, in my opinion, to be about ten thousand in 
 stock." 
 
 "Worth how much?" 
 
 " Worth par," Hampden answered with conviction. 
 " Eventually." 
 
 " Phew ! You haven't impressed me as a man who 
 would pay city prices for country butter, Mr. Hamp 
 den," John replied thoughtfully. " Just why so 
 much?" 
 
 " You will be expected to earn it," said Hampden 
 dryly. " Are you in the habit of questioning fees be 
 cause they are large ? "
 
 THE NAZARITE 61 
 
 " I'm not in the habit of getting large fees. Only 
 I'm not quite clear how you expect me to earn a fee 
 of ten thousand in stock worth par eventually." 
 
 " The usual legal matters charter, organization, 
 conveyances and so on. And," casually, " helping us 
 to sign up the Deer Township properties." 
 
 " They don't like the proposition ? " 
 
 " They're the only ones who haven't accepted it. 
 They seem to be holding out under the advice of this 
 fellow Cranshawe, is it? " Warren nodded. " We 
 think you can swing them into line." 
 
 " I see," said John thoughtfully. His brow wrinkled 
 in a troubled fashion, as he gazed reflectively out at the 
 clerks sweltering behind the cage. Hampden and 
 Warren waited patiently for his answer. 
 
 At last he raised his eyes to Hampden's. " I'm 
 sorry but I can't do it." 
 
 "Why not?" Hampden demanded. 
 
 " This fellow Cranshawe happens to be a good deal 
 of a man. He and his neighbors are clients of mine in 
 a small way and friends also, I think. They do 
 me the honor to trust me. I shouldn't care to advise 
 them in this matter." 
 
 "Why not?" Hampden demanded again. 
 
 " Let us say," John smiled, " that I am in politics 
 and don't want to complicate my vote-getting." 
 
 " That isn't your reason." 
 
 " Well," John said regretfully, " if you will have it, 
 it isn't a proposition that I can conscientiously recom 
 mend." 
 
 "You impeach my honesty?" 
 
 " I do not go so far, sir. Honesty is a matter of 
 intent. I think I understand your point of view
 
 62 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 that you will convert their idle coal, as you say, into an 
 income property, and by starting a new industry will 
 indirectly benefit the whole valley. Which is probably 
 true. But the point is that the coal, the one indis 
 pensable element in the situation, is theirs, and in re 
 turn for it they should at least have control." 
 
 " The coal has always been there. We furnish the 
 initiative and the brains and the money to make 
 it useful." 
 
 " I see that, too. But don't you think initiative of 
 this sort is sometimes er overcapitalized ? I 
 give you the credit of possessing a higher order of 
 brains than is required to think out this scheme. As 
 for your money, it is secured, amply secured, by first 
 mortgage bonds on property worth four times the 
 loan." 
 
 " Humph ! Six per cent, never made a rich man. 
 Do you know of any capital that will offer better 
 terms than I do ? " 
 
 " I do not," John confessed. " And it strikes me," 
 he added gravely, " that you are taking advantage of 
 that fact to gouge " the word slipped out; he cor 
 rected himself hastily " to drive a close bargain 
 with the farmers." 
 
 Hampden abruptly straightened up in his chair. 
 " You may stick to ' gouge.' Do I understand that 
 you refuse the job? " 
 
 " I have been trying to explain my reasons " 
 
 " I'm not deeply concerned with your reasons," 
 Hampden remarked shortly. He picked up a docu 
 ment and pointedly began to peruse it. Observing 
 that John did not at once take the hint, he looked up, 
 nodding carelessly. " Oh ! Good morning I "
 
 THE NAZARITE 63 
 
 John rose, flushing under the curt dismissal, and 
 went out of the bank. 
 
 " I told you so," Warren said. 
 
 " Can't you say anything more original than that? " 
 Hampden exclaimed impatiently. Warren couldn't; 
 so he held his peace. 
 
 " What I'd like to know," Hampden added re 
 flectively, dropping the document, " is why Murchell 
 let him be nominated. A young lawyer who refuses 
 a big fee for sentimental reasons has no place in Mur- 
 chell's machine." He was talking to himself rather 
 than to Warren. 
 
 But this was attacking what had almost attained the 
 sanctity of a tradition, an institution proudly cherished 
 by New Chelsea ! Even by Warren, who had a point 
 of view not shared by his neighbors! " Murchell is a 
 smart man," Warren was moved to protest, " and he 
 likes Dunmeade. And maybe John is smart enough 
 to guess that the stock may be worth nothing even 
 tually." 
 
 Hampden looked at him sharply, but Warren's face 
 was as expressionless as that of the soldiers' monu 
 ment. 
 
 " Well," the capitalist remarked philosophically, 
 " it's Murchell's business, not mine." 
 
 That evening Katherine was to be found on the 
 terrace. She was looking particularly well, a fact of 
 which she was not altogether unconscious. Her rest 
 lessness, the frequency with which her eyes turned to 
 ward the gap in the hedge, the impatient tapping of 
 her foot^ may be easily explained : what doth it profit 
 to be beautifully attired when there is no one to admire 
 the result?
 
 64 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 She wandered aimlessly into the library where she 
 found her father busy at his desk on which lay a 
 profusion of papers and blue-prints. He nodded ab 
 stractedly. 
 
 " Still at work, Dad? Don't you ever get tired of 
 it?" 
 
 " I guess it's the only thing I know how to do. 
 My generation was never taught to take pleasure 
 seriously. You needn't complain, though." He 
 leaned back in his chair and surveyed her approvingly. 
 " Where are the swains ? " 
 
 She yawned. " There seems to have been a dev 
 astating epidemic. You will kindly proceed to 
 amuse me." 
 
 " All this gorgeousness wasted ! " 
 
 She yawned again. " I was rather looking for 
 John Dunmeade this evening." 
 
 " Hence that gown and that stunning new arrange 
 ment of the hair? You're not going to fall in love 
 with a one-horse country lawyer, are you ? " 
 
 There was in her frank, boyish laugh none of that 
 maidenly shyness, that blushing modesty with which 
 novelists delight to bedeck their heroines at the mere 
 mention of love. She sat, knees crossed, on the arm 
 of a chair, her burnished hair and firm white shoul 
 ders gleaming softly under the bright light above 
 them. He observed her critically; he was very proud 
 of her and what his money had done for her. 
 
 " It is not beyond the bounds of possibility," she 
 laughed. " You know, one can't love a man just 
 because he has money, or social position, or has won 
 distinction. One can do other things to such a man, 
 but not love him unless he has something else,
 
 THE NAZARITE 65 
 
 Which axiomatic bit of philosophy isn't original with 
 me. So you needn't consider me as an asset." 
 
 " I have never considered you as an asset," he re 
 plied honestly. " But you can refrain from loving 
 an incompetent, can't you ? " 
 
 " Yes, I suppose that can be controlled so long 
 as one remains on this side of a certain point." 
 
 "This side? Stay on this side, Katherine." 
 
 " Is John an incompetent ? " she asked thought 
 fully, and promptly; answered her own question. " I 
 don't believe it." 
 
 " He is. He proved it to-day. I gave him the 
 chance to make some money, more than he is likely 
 to make in five years, and he turned it down for 
 sentimental reasons ! And the worst of it is, he didn't 
 turn it down regretfully but bluntly, quite as though it 
 didn't matter. That sort of man won't go far." 
 
 " He has proved it," she said thoughtfully. 
 
 "Proved what?" 
 
 " He told me once that he didn't care much for 
 money. I thought then he wasn't posing." 
 
 " And," Hampden continued the indictment, " he 
 virtually called me a crook." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Well what?" 
 
 " Are you ? " And she added quickly, seeing his 
 look of aggrieved astonishment, " But, of course, I 
 know you aren't." 
 
 " I am not," he said emphatically. " I have always 
 kept my operations strictly within the law and that 
 is more than a good many men who aren't called 
 crooks can say. Of course," he went on, " I know 
 perfectly well I'll not be consulted when you come to
 
 66 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 marry. You will choose your husband according to 
 your own tastes " 
 
 " I have the right," she interrupted, " since I shall 
 have to live with him." 
 
 " Unless I have to support him ! " 
 
 " You wouldn't have to," she said positively, " even 
 if he were poor. I can do without luxury." 
 
 " You think you can," he answered. " You've 
 never had to try; so you don't know how the habit 
 of luxury fixes itself on one. But even if you could 
 do without it, you couldn't be contented with medi 
 ocrity. You'd want to be in the thick of things, with 
 a husband who'd wear a number eight hat, who'd 
 have big wants and would put up a big fight to get 
 what he wanted. You couldn't be happy with a man 
 who would be content to go moseying through life, 
 fastidiously rejecting any chance for advancement 
 that didn't suit his antiquated ideas. And if you 
 ever took the bit in your mouth Lord pity you 
 and your husband ! " 
 
 " Do you know," she said thoughtfully, " I've been 
 thinking just that. Still, John Dunmeade we're 
 still discussing him, aren't we ? isn't exactly com 
 monplace. He really has brains, and he is attractive. 
 In politics " 
 
 " He would be out of place. You know nothing 
 of politics. He'd have less chance there than in busi 
 ness. Theoretically, sentiment and lofty ideals and 
 that sort of thing are very pretty, but in fact there's 
 no place anywhere nowadays for your over-finical, 
 sentimental chap unless he happens to possess su 
 preme genius along some line. Dunmeade doesn't 
 he's merely attractive."
 
 THE NAZARITE 67 
 
 " Most unaccountably attractive." Then she 
 laughed a trifle ruefully, it is true. " I wonder 
 what he would say, if he knew we were discussing 
 him so he would be shocked, I suppose. I am 
 continually shocking him. He has such nice, old- 
 fashioned ideas about women." 
 
 " About everything," Hampden supplemented. 
 
 " And we are really anticipating the event. He 
 hasn't asked me to marry him, and he doesn't intend 
 to, I think. He strongly disapproves of me, even 
 while he likes me. He wouldn't know what to do 
 with me if he had me and I'm afraid I couldn't 
 enlighten him. Heigho ! " she yawned and rose. 
 " We haven't been discussing the matter very ro 
 mantically, have we? " 
 
 " Matrimony," said Hampden, " is the most un- 
 romantic thing I know of."
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 EXPLORATIONS 
 
 A PEOPLE, single-minded and not too critical as 
 * * to means, was wooing prosperity: the nation 
 ruled from grogshop and magnate's cabinet ; the boss, 
 himself let us do him justice without sense of 
 moral obliquity, tolerated, respectable almost, as often 
 as not a pillar of the church; little boss serving big 
 boss, big boss serving his corporate monarch, this mon 
 arch and others as royalties will, since blood is 
 thicker than water and interest binds closer than sen 
 timent banded in a secret confederacy, tacit or 
 explicit, to rule in perpetuum with no one the wiser 
 and no one to care. 
 
 Then, overnight it seemed, the same people had 
 become suspicious, insistent, clamorous, lifting red, 
 fearing eyes from the muck to the heavens ; uncer 
 tainly mouthing eternal principles; reaching awk 
 wardly up toward ancient ideals; from forgotten 
 closets bringing forth faded, moth-eaten banners; 
 furbishing old weapons whose temper and edge neg 
 lect had softened and dulled; listening wonderingly 
 to the confusion of tongues, of doctrinaire and quack, 
 of sophist and fanatic and patriot, not quite sure 
 whether it was Babel or Pentecost, but hearing amid 
 the din the summons to battle anew against privilege. 
 
 Yet the revelation came not to the nation as to 
 
 68
 
 EXPLORATIONS 69 
 
 Saul of Tarsus, in a great white light. In very 
 orderly fashion it came, in rigid conformity to prec 
 edent. Before the real leaders, cool-headed, far- 
 seeing, combining caution and courage, came forward 
 to give form and direction to the uprising; before 
 the clamor was even a murmur, before the muck- 
 raker began his Augean task, certain lonely prot- 
 estants had appeared : young men mostly, audacious 
 egotists who, the people said, thought they were wiser 
 and better than other men, dared to criticize what 
 their neighbors accepted, and presumed to instruct 
 their elders. Tailors Ket, if you please, and Wat 
 Tylers, Long Will Longlands, even gunpowdery 
 Guy Fawkeses, who could not always discern between 
 institutions and men. They believed, poor fools ! that 
 if their pasture lands were thrown open and the mill 
 stones freed again, all would be well once more. 
 They gleaned hope from a barren soil, uttered their 
 passionate protest, were styled for their pains " un 
 practical " and " common scolds." In the end they 
 were broken, silenced sadly unaware that in the 
 subconscious memory of men the echo of their pro 
 test was still ringing. They are forgotten now. 
 
 John Dunmeade was a normally intelligent young 
 man, healthy of mind and conscience, who had never 
 been tempted, hence never tested. He had heard the 
 protestants of his day, of course, but they dealt with 
 problems so remote from his own simple existence 
 that he had carelessly accepted his elders' appraisement 
 of them. He had an ingenuous belief in the greatness 
 and goodness of men who attained high position in 
 life: such men as Senator Murchell. Attacks upon 
 them he dismissed as the splenetic outbursts of disap-
 
 70 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 pointed opponents; he had never had occasion to 
 scrutinize their methods closely. His simple mode 
 and code of existence had not acquainted him with 
 the use and need of sophistry; he was not critical of 
 temperament. 
 
 From his books and his dreaming in the fields he 
 had evolved his philosophy of life : that wealth was 
 to be won only through industry and production, that 
 men attained distinction only through genius and ser 
 vice, that happiness and content were the crown of fair, 
 clean living, and that dishonesty, cruelty and all other 
 forms of evil, in the end wrought their own punish 
 ment. So much he conceded to human frailty that, as 
 no mere man since the fall hath been able fully to keep 
 the commandments of God, all men erred sometimes 
 and some men sinned habitually; but he was willing 
 to believe the world as good as it seemed to him in 
 the retired nook in which his life had been cast. All 
 this, less naively put perhaps, he believed and yet he 
 was not a fool. Among the simple folk whose lives 
 overlapped his he had seen nothing to teach him to 
 dig under the semblance of virtue. 
 
 Yet he was not unprepared for what befell. His 
 soul had not been blurred by too many impressions 
 of life. To the vigorous mentality of manhood he 
 brought unimpaired the sensitive, elemental honor 
 and interrogative habit of youth. Despite his charity 
 and credulity, he was, when occasion presented itself, 
 quick to see the fundamental verities of the case 
 as Stephen Hampden had learned. 
 
 He was not unambitious, although the spark had 
 smoldered until, apparently from nowhere in partic 
 ular, had come the suggestion of his nomination.
 
 EXPLORATIONS 71 
 
 Then the passion leaped into flame. It was an oppor 
 tunity to deepen the course of his life, to serve the 
 people ! When he perceived the distinct approval with 
 which his neighbors received the suggestion, his heart 
 leaped within him. They were a good, kind people, 
 worthy of the best a man had to give; he would give 
 them of his best! And then, if he should prove a 
 faithful servant in little, perhaps with unaffected 
 modesty he contemplated the prospect to him might 
 be committed service of wider scope. 
 
 Then the sensitive retina of his soul began to take 
 new impressions. The conceded fact that his nom 
 ination came solely by grace of Murchell's and Shee- 
 han's decree caused him vague misgivings. Jeremy 
 Applegate's plaint startled him. Hampden's offer 
 did not tempt, it revolted him. What troubled him 
 most was that these things were done in the light of 
 day and that no one Jeremy did not count, the 
 victim would naturally protest seemed to care. 
 Did it mean that the things he questioned were char 
 acteristic? Were they justified? 
 
 "Am I a prig?" self -doubting. 
 
 Other things he learned from his campaigning 
 things that put him on notice, as the lawyers say. 
 
 After careful consideration of his unimposing bank 
 account, John invested a part of it in a horse, despite 
 the teasing of Aunt Roberta who accused him of 
 " joining the cavalry," to-wit, Warren Blake and the 
 troop of undergraduates that clattered over the roads 
 at Crusader's heels. He was not a thoroughbred, blue- 
 ribbon winner, like Crusader, but just a plain horse 
 that, with buggy attached, could trot a mile in some 
 thing less than five minutes, or, if you weren't par-
 
 72 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 ticular as to gait, would bear you in the saddle all day 
 with equal willingness. He was a big, rawboned beast 
 with a Roman nose and eyes continually showing 
 white which quite belied his placid temper and 
 John called him Lightning. So John and Lightning, 
 two industrious campaigners, between whom a per 
 fect understanding existed, went about their busi 
 ness of getting votes and learning. 
 
 Lightning's duties generally consisted in standing 
 under the shade of some tree, while John, a volunteer 
 who at least earned his dinner, worked with the farm 
 ers in the fields. Glorious days, which the gathering 
 shadows could not altogether rob of their brightness ! 
 spent plying his pitchfork with a vigor that allowed 
 no time for problem-solving; breathing the dry, sweet 
 fragrance of new-mown hay, or acquiring dexterity 
 in sheaf-binding after the remorseless reaper had laid 
 low the proudly-bending grain; or, when the 
 " thrasher " came, on the strawstack behind the barn, 
 amid a cloud of flying dust and chaff and the crunch 
 ing roar, too busy to read a parable in the splendid 
 task of cutter and feeder, as with quick, precise, sweep 
 ing grace they fed the maw of the machine. And 
 over the dinner-table or when the day's work was 
 done, John chatted with the farmers. The labor was 
 good for his muscles and digestion, and the chat was 
 good for his soul. 
 
 Often he found that Jeremy Applegate or one of 
 Jeremy's fellow scouts had blazed the trail for him. 
 But sometimes he found skeptics who asked pertinent 
 questions. 
 
 " Why should I vote for ye ? " asked Dan Cris- 
 well, a citizen of Baldwin Township, one evening.
 
 EXPLORATIONS 73 
 
 They were sitting on Criswell's front porch after sup 
 per, John sucking at his pipe and his host enjoying a 
 cigar, memento of Jeremy's visit. 
 
 John began to patter the stock Republican argu 
 ments, which carried conviction neither to the skeptical 
 Criswell nor of a sudden to himself. He broke 
 off abruptly in the middle of a sentence. 
 
 " As you say," he laughed uncomfortably. " Why 
 should you vote for me ? " 
 
 "Does sound kind o' foolish, don't it? Reckon 
 ye won't have nothin' to do with the tariff or the 
 single gold standard ner prosperity neither. A Dem 
 ocrat could be district attorney as good as ye can, 
 pervidin' he's honest an' smart enough. Bein' a Re 
 publican won't keep ye straight 'less ye're so nach- 
 erly. The hull Republican party won't make ye git 
 after the law-breakers, if ye're cheek by jowl with 
 Jim Sheehan an' he don't want it. What I want to 
 know is, are ye honest or will ye take orders?" 
 
 " That sounds logical," John assented. 
 
 " It's common sense. Only most candidates think 
 we're too simple to think on't. An' I don't know 
 as they're far wrong," he added thoughtfully. 
 " Most of us seems to be the kind o' fools they think 
 we are." 
 
 When John left, however, Criswell shook hands 
 with him cordially. " I guess I'll vote for ye this 
 time. I can't swaller the hull ticket, though 
 stomach wouldn't stand it. Ye look like ye'd be yer 
 own man. Leastways, I'll chance it." 
 
 And John replied, troubled, " I won't regard that as 
 a promise. I'm not sure that you ought to vote for 
 me."
 
 74 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 Another day he met one Sykes, a hill farmer, a 
 little, wizened fellow who looked as though he had 
 worn himself out in the struggle to wring a living 
 out of the steep slopes. His farm, he explained, 
 would have been a fine one, if only he could " ha' 
 picked it up an' laid it out in some level place." 
 John found him in the barnyard, tinkering at a broken 
 mower. 
 
 " Ye're one o' them politician fellers, ain't ye?" he 
 demanded straightway. 
 
 " I'm John Dunmeade and " 
 
 " Know all about ye," Farmer Sykes interrupted 
 quickly. " Ye can save yer time an' yer seegars. I 
 ain't votin'." 
 
 " I haven't any cigars," John laughed frankly. 
 " If I had, you'd probably pay for them in the long 
 run. But if you smoke a pipe, I'll gladly share my 
 tobacco ? " He exhibited a well-filled pouch. 
 
 But Sykes, it appeared, indulged in another form 
 of the tobacco habit, and John had to smoke without 
 company. 
 
 " I ain't votin'," Sykes repeated churlishly. 
 
 " Well," John laughed cheerfully, " if I can't get a 
 vote, I'll be content with information. Will you tell 
 me why you won't vote? " 
 
 " Ye can't git aroun' me by palaverin'." The 
 farmer looked up suspiciously from his tinkering. 
 Then he straightened up suddenly, looking John 
 squarely in the eyes. " Well, if ye will have it, Jim 
 Sheehan nominated ye. If ye'd been the right kind 
 o' man, he wouldn't 'a' had nothin' to do with ye." 
 
 " But perhaps Sheehan might make a mistake " 
 
 " Not that kind o' mistake. He's too smart fer
 
 EXPLORATIONS 75 
 
 that." Into the man's dull eyes crept a sudden hot 
 gleam. " Anybody's he fer, I'm against. I rec'lect 
 when he come to Plumville, nothin' but a drinkin' 
 bum. An' now he's got rich, buildin' bad streets an' 
 roads an' taxin' me heavy to pay fer it while it keeps 
 me scratchin' to git the intrust on my mortgage. 
 How do I know he's crooked ? I don't know I 
 feel it. An' I know that no one gits the Republican 
 nomination, less'n he says so. Or Murchell an' 
 they're tarred with the same stick." 
 
 John's face was grave. " Then you ought to vote 
 the Democratic ticket. I'd rather you'd do that than 
 not vote at all." 
 
 The momentary flicker of passion died down. 
 " What's the use ? " was the reply, dully given. 
 " However I vote, some feller like Sheehan gits on 
 top." And John went on his way, the twin creases 
 that the summer had stamped between his eyes deep 
 ening. 
 
 He sought counsel from his father. But to the 
 judge, Caesar's wife that is to say, the Republican 
 party and all things thereto appertaining was above 
 suspicion; not so the motives of him who raised a 
 question. So he took his trouble to 'Ri Cranshawe, 
 the office visitor to whom John's deference had at 
 tracted Sheehan's attention, a big man, kindly, 
 shrewd, with wisdom in the raw. He listened sym 
 pathetically as John poured out his tale. 
 
 " It's like what Sykes says. It ain't what we 
 know it's what we feel. When Jim Sheehan gits 
 a public contract, we feel there's somethin' crooked 
 about it. When a man gits a nomination, we feel 
 that he's made some kind o' deal with Sheehan.
 
 76 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 When we put up a man on our own hook, an' he's 
 nominated which ain't often we find he's gone 
 over to Sheehan. An' that ain't feel, it's knozv. Jim 
 Sheehan's represented ; we ain't. It ain't right ! " 
 He brought one great, gnarled fist into the palm of 
 the other with a report like a pistol shot. " This ain't 
 the Jim Sheehans' country, it's ours because it's our 
 hands an' our heads that makes it. Yet we can't 
 elect an official without him or Murchell says so. 
 We can't put our hands on nothin', but we know that if 
 <we could git down under we'd find things rotten." 
 
 " Then why don't you get together and fight? " 
 
 " We've got to live," Cranshawe answered simply. 
 "We don't lay by money fast enough to keep us 
 without workin'. We ain't got the time ner the 
 trainin' to make a good fight against him. But the 
 .Sheehans, they've got no business but politics an' 
 they're workin' at it all the time. An' we've got no 
 one we can trust to lead us. We've thought we had 
 -sometimes, but as I say, we always find he's Shee 
 han's man in the end. We've got no leader." His 
 -eyes, through the bushy brows, rested with an almost 
 wistful light on the troubled countenance before him. 
 "An' it'd take a large-size man fer the job." 
 
 John just then felt very small. 
 
 He went to Plumville, an ugly, grimy, bustling, 
 growing hive of workers; with its drones, too. He 
 had the key to interpret what he saw. He was per 
 mitted to go through the mills and to meet the men; 
 .he came out with hands blackened from much con 
 tact with their hands, and in the smut he felt a sort 
 .of pride. What he had read on the farmers' brown 
 faces he saw on their red, scorched ones; the dull-
 
 EXPLORATIONS 77 
 
 eyed suspicion of those used to flattery before election 
 and neglect afterward. Under the careful ciceron- 
 age of Sheehan's lieutenants he was led into political 
 club and saloon, where he shook hands with many 
 more men, who guzzled vast quantities of liquor and 
 sneered openly at his abstinence. He was told that 
 here he would meet " men who counted " ; he did 
 meet such men, brutish things, moral idiots, chin- 
 less creatures; sly, crafty men; smug, intelligent hypo 
 crites; with the ideals of the brothel, lacking sense 
 of loyalty in the abstract, but bound together by the 
 cohesive force of a common interest plunder 
 and hence dangerous, terrible : the sort that one would 
 pass by as life's negligibles, were it not for the al 
 most incomprehensible fact that they through their 
 masters or their masters through them guided 
 the destinies of the people. For this army never 
 slept, could always be relied upon. 
 
 " What a self-centered beast I have been ! " he 
 cried within himself. " All this rottenness under my 
 nose and I have never perceived it ! " 
 
 Another night he spent as he had passed the night 
 before Sheehan and Murchell came to offer him that 
 " big place in the life of men " staring at his vision : 
 not the same splendid, thrilling picture of dramatic 
 struggle and triumph. The detached impressions 
 he had taken during the summer raced before him 
 in endless repetition, so swiftly as to form one con 
 tinuous living-picture, luminous, revealing. A great 
 fear came upon him; fear of the responsibility of that 
 into which he felt himself being carried. 
 
 And there was another thing that deepened those 
 twin creases between his eyes.
 
 78 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 One morning a very sleek, high-stepping cob, draw 
 ing a very elegant trap, halted before his office, a 
 circumstance of which, you may be sure, New Chelsea 
 took prompt and interested notice. The occupant of 
 the trap waited, calmly ignoring the necks craned in 
 her direction. She did not have to wait long. John's 
 client was somewhat amazed by the abruptness with 
 which their consultation was interrupted. 
 
 " Why, hello ! " he exclaimed, extending his hand 
 to the visitor. " This is fine ! " 
 
 She observed him hesitatingly. " It is Mr. Dun- 
 meade, isn't it? Yet I think I should have recog 
 nized you anywhere. You haven't changed much, 
 though it has been a long time since I last saw you. 
 Aren't you ashamed of having neglected me so 
 long?" she concluded indignantly. 
 
 " Well, you see, Katherine," he grinned, lamely ex 
 planatory, " I've been out campaigning " 
 
 " You might at least have come to report your 
 progress to an interested constituent. Are you 
 aware that you and I are going over to inspect the 
 new house this afternoon? It's completed, and 
 you've never seen it yet. I don't believe you are in 
 terested," she reproached him. 
 
 " O, yes, I am. And I'd like to very much," he 
 began. " But I ought to see some men " 
 
 " Do you think," she interrupted him again, " that 
 I've set all the tongues in New Chelsea clacking for 
 nothing? Your campaign can wait. We shall start 
 at two." 
 
 He hesitated, then surrendered. " O, hang it all ! 
 I've earned a holiday. I'll go." 
 
 She beamed brightly on him. " That's nice of
 
 EXPLORATIONS 79 
 
 you! And we shall ride. I want to race Crusader 
 against that new steed I've heard so much about." 
 
 " O, no ! " he protested. " I'm not going to put a 
 good friend in the way of humiliation. The aristo 
 cratic Crusader would probably snub him, and Light 
 ning is very sensitive about such things." 
 
 " It is time," she insisted firmly, " that Crusader 
 acquired a more democratic spirit. Besides, you've 
 never ridden with me yet. So that's settled. And 
 now I must be going before our friends' necks be 
 come permanently twisted. At two, remember ! " 
 And the sleek cob was set on its high-stepping way. 
 
 A few minutes before the appointed hour New 
 Chelsea saw Lightning curried as never before in 
 his life amble in his own peculiar fashion up Main 
 Street to the opening in Hampden's hedge, whence he 
 soon emerged in the company of the satiny Crusader. 
 Over the shady roads they trotted and galloped, Kath 
 arine finding much difficulty in restraining her mount, 
 which evinced a strong desire to run away, to Light 
 ning's sober gait. They came after a half hour's ride 
 to a long, straight avenue, once the rain-washed lane 
 to a farm-house, newly graded and graveled and 
 flanked by precise rows of towering poplars. 
 
 " It was for the trees we took this place," she told 
 him. " And for the view. Do you wonder? " 
 
 They stopped and looked down into the valley lying 
 silent before them like some vast, deserted amphithea 
 ter of the gods. The town, seen through the thin, 
 bluish haze of September, seemed sleepier than ever, 
 half-hidden by its trees; the spires of the churches 
 and school-house standing up like exaggerated excla 
 mation points. " Which is perfectly absurd," she
 
 8o HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 flouted his fancy, " since New Chelsea is nothing so 
 emphatic." 
 
 At the end of the poplar-guarded avenue they came 
 upon a fat little man, with a roll of blue-prints tucked 
 under his arm, superintending the laying out of the 
 garden, which, as Katherine explained, was to be 
 formal ; " not too formal, of course, just enough to 
 give that quaint, restful effect." But as the garden 
 just then consisted only of badly cut-up turf and many 
 wooden stakes, what it should be when it had attained 
 the desired degree of formality was left to John's fee 
 ble imagination. Then they turned their attention to 
 the house, which John discovered was not nearly so 
 large as the long fagade, viewed from a distance, had 
 led him to believe. 
 
 "Italian, isn't it?" he ventured, not quite sure of 
 his ground. 
 
 " Southern Italy," she informed him ; " and frankly 
 stolen." 
 
 Inside, the decorators not from New Chelsea 
 were putting the finishing touches on the last room, and 
 most of the furnishings were in place; so that John 
 had an opportunity to appraise the designers' taste. 
 Silas Hicks, who had the contract to transport the 
 movables from the New Chelsea house, arrived with 
 a load, and as Katherine authoritatively directed its 
 disposal John guessed whose taste had ruled. He 
 found that the Globe had done the house grave injus 
 tice ; it was not at all " palatial " but planned with an 
 eye to comfort and harmony " livableness," Kath 
 erine called it and marked by extreme simplicity, 
 of the expensive sort, however. Silas was frankly
 
 EXPLORATIONS Si- 
 
 disappointed, as he found occasion to inform John in* 
 an aside. 
 
 " It ain't so much, after all, is it? I sorter ex 
 pected somethin' grand an' imposin'. Yet I bet these 
 fixin's must 'a' cost say, a couple of thousand ? " 
 He eyed John inquiringly. " I don't think much o' 
 the picters, either. Don't seem to have much snap to 
 'em. There's one, though I bet Mis' Hicks 
 wouldn't let it in the house It's about a lady 
 leastways a woman. It's in the settin'-room, 'r 
 librerry, as they call it." He offered to conduct John 
 to it and when the offer was declined for the present, 
 continued in an awe-struck whisper. " But they 
 have five bath-rooms ! " Later, John discovered him 
 surreptitiously viewing the picture. 
 
 Under Katherine's guidance John was shown the 
 whole house from garret to cellar. At least half of 
 his admiration he gave to his guide. He had never 
 before known her as she was that afternoon, girlish, 
 enthusiastic, absorbed in her woman's task of home- 
 making, never so alluring. For the first time he 
 looked upon her not merely as a girl with whom one 
 might spend a few jolly, flirtatious hours but as a 
 woman with whom a man some man might be 
 glad to spend a lifetime. His imagination, which 
 had not been equal to picturing the future garden, 
 began to busy itself with her making a home for 
 some lucky man. 
 
 Afterward they rested on the shady eastern ter 
 race. 
 
 " Do you know," she said, " you haven't exclaimed 
 once. Not a single ' Fine ! ' Or even a ' Bully t '
 
 82 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 You're a very satisfactory person in some ways. 
 Do you like it?" 
 
 " Very much," he answered with such evident sin 
 cerity that she was content. " But why this air of 
 permanence ? " 
 
 " Because this is to be home. Of course, we shall 
 be in the Steel City during the winter, with a month 
 in New York for the opera. But this is home. It 
 seems lonely and out of the way now, I suppose, but 
 that won't last long. The Sangers have bought the 
 place next to this. The Flicks, and maybe the Hawes, 
 are coming. We'll soon have our own little colony." 
 
 "But Newport and Lenox?" 
 
 " Closed chapters." 
 
 "And the siege of New York?" 
 
 " A foolish expedition from which we have dis 
 creetly retreated." Her laugh did not ring quite so 
 free as usual. 
 
 " I shouldn't have thought you were the retreating 
 kind." 
 
 " I'm not, when it's worth while to go forward. 
 But that O, I hated it ! It was humiliating, toady 
 ing to people who despise you for your presumption ; 
 swallowing snubs as though you liked them, merely 
 to be able in turn to snub some other silly aspirant." 
 The crimson rushed resentfully to her cheeks, at the 
 recollection of some disagreeable incident, he sus 
 pected. He said nothing. 
 
 " Thank you for not asking questions. It's foolish 
 for me to be so sensitive about it, but " she shrugged 
 her shoulders " our experience wasn't pleasant. I 
 suppose I wasn't constructed to endure it gracefully 
 I'm still essentially the tomboy, you see. But I'm
 
 EXPLORATIONS 83 
 
 fair about it, I think. I've no doubt there are lots 
 of splendid men and women in society there, if only 
 they were accessible. But one can find pleasant, cul 
 tured people elsewhere even among the maligned 
 new-rich. Does that smile mean you think I'm 
 plagiarizing from the classic fox? I'm not. I like 
 the new-rich. I like to meet men who are doing 
 things, who are making their own conquests, not liv 
 ing on the fruits of others' conquests. I know a 
 man he's only thirty-five who is already much 
 richer than father and has made his money himself. 
 People are apt to sneer at him as a speculator and 
 call him unscrupulous. But I think he is splendid, 
 because he has had the brains and courage to make 
 his own fight and win." 
 
 He sat silent. To win, always to win, was the 
 sum of this girl's philosophy, with no thought of 
 its cruelty, or realization that for every victor there 
 must be many losers. And wealth, power, the things 
 a man had, were the badge of his victory. 
 
 And she had said, " I know a man. ... I 
 think he is splendid." What meant the sudden pang 
 answering those words? 
 
 She was laughing at him. " What do you think 
 when you retire into yourself so rudely? Anything 
 profitable? Or interesting?" 
 
 " I'm afraid not. Do you think winning is all of 
 life?" 
 
 "Isn't it?" 
 
 " No," he cried. " There is the use of strength, 
 if one is strong, to support the weak " He paused 
 abruptly, conscious of the triteness and futility of his 
 words, with the shyness of the man who, self-con-
 
 84 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 scious without conceit, fears to uncover his ideals be 
 fore unsympathetic eyes. 
 
 " O, John Dunmeade," she replied impatiently," why 
 can't you be practical? Does any one do that and 
 succeed in life? You're so disappointing, with your 
 school-boy platitudes." 
 
 He made no answer; the quick red rushed to his 
 face. Why did her impatience make him feel so 
 deeply? And why should she interest herself in his 
 ideals? A long, troubled silence fell between them. 
 
 " John," she said suddenly, " was it necessary for 
 you to criticize and quarrel with my father?" 
 
 " I did not criticize him," he responded quickly ; 
 " and there is no quarrel that I am aware of. We 
 merely differed in opinion on a business matter, each 
 believing he was right." 
 
 " Will you tell me why you think him wrong? " 
 
 He found his lips sealed. " I haven't criticized 
 him," he said gravely, " and I can't begin now, 
 especially to his daughter. And," he added, smiling, 
 " my part in the matter was so unimportant to him 
 to you that it is hardly worth mentioning." 
 
 The afternoon was spoiled. Into her face had 
 come a look almost of hardness, like the swift shadow 
 of a cloud over the fields on a sunny day, the ab 
 sence of which had given her the sweet, frank girlish- 
 ness. . . . The procession of questions con 
 tinued. What had he to do with this girl to whom 
 luxury was a matter of course? Why did her im 
 patience with his ideals trouble him? What was he 
 to her but a temporary substitute pending the arrival 
 of the " little colony of our own " ? 
 
 " Let us go home," she said.
 
 EXPLORATIONS 85 
 
 They went to the horses. From the beginning 
 Crusader behaved badly. To enable Katherine to 
 mount John had to lead him to the terrace and stand 
 by his head until she was well seated and had gath 
 ered in the reins. He got quickly into his own saddle 
 and they went down the poplar-lined avenue, John 
 watching Crusader's antics with an anxiety Katherine 
 did not share. 
 
 " Be careful ! " he cautioned her, as they turned 
 into the public road. " That horse wants to bolt." 
 
 " I told you he lacks common sense sometimes," 
 she laughed. 
 
 As though to illustrate this saying Crusader now 
 began a series of short, cramped plunges, rearing and 
 tossing violently to loosen the steel thing that cut into 
 his mouth. Instinctively John reached for the bridle- 
 rein. 
 
 " Don't ! " she said sharply. " I am perfectly capa 
 ble " He drew back, flushing at his lack of self- 
 control. 
 
 She brought her crop stingingly down on the horse's 
 flanks. . . . Crusader broke her grip on the 
 reins, took the bit between his teeth and, head lowered, 
 raced madly down the hill. 
 
 Lightning, now an ancient horse, must often recall 
 for the benefit of the arrogant young colts that wild 
 ride when he tried to overtake the fleet thoroughbred. 
 John did not stop to consider the uselessness of risking 
 his own life, too. His arm rose and fell continuously, 
 as he tried to beat more speed into his horse to close 
 the rapidly widening gap between him and the flying 
 Crusader. 
 
 A turn of the road took her out of his sight.
 
 86 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 Thereafter, to the end of the mad chase, she was al 
 ways just beyond the next turn. He was not a good 
 rider and the wonder was that, as he swung at top 
 speed around the curves in the snaky road, he was not 
 unseated. Once his horse stumbled slightly, recovered, 
 and galloped on; only John's unconscious grip on the 
 saddle saved him from a bad fall. Lightning's legs 
 doubled and stretched with a rapidity never before 
 and never again attained in his placid life, but to John 
 the space between the pounding, staccato hoof-beats 
 seemed endless. The blood throbbed heavily in his 
 temples, at every turn he closed his eyes, fearing to 
 see a still, broken figure before him. Yet to him 
 just then life meant to find what he must find. 
 
 By a miracle the descent was accomplished with 
 out mishap. The road ran on a level for a few hun 
 dred yards, then began a long gradual climb of the 
 next hill. Lightning's steps lagged. ... At a 
 turn in the road, just below the crest, he came upon 
 the panting Crusader, standing with head meekly low 
 ered. Seated on the roadside was Katherine 
 coolly putting up her hair! 
 
 Lightning stopped of his own accord. John's blood 
 rushed to his heart, leaving his face very white. For 
 a moment, in the reaction, the roadside spun around 
 him in a green blur. 
 
 " What an anti-climax ! " she laughed. 
 
 He climbed weakly from the saddle and threw him 
 self down beside her. 
 
 " It was glorious, while it lasted," she said. 
 
 " Glorious ! " he stammered. 
 
 " O, I was frightened, too." She held out a hand ; 
 it was shaking like an autumn leaf from which the sap
 
 EXPLORATIONS 87 
 
 has begun to recede. " But you look worse scared 
 than I felt. What did you think while it was hap 
 pening? " 
 
 He stared at her in a queer, dazed fashion. "I 
 I am trying to think what I was thinking." 
 
 But he knew he knew ! 
 
 She looked at him curiously and then she, too, 
 knew. The knowledge did not displease her. . . 
 She rose suddenly. 
 
 " Shall we go back ? The horses will get stiff, 
 standing." 
 
 They went slowly homeward, she chatting with a 
 nervous, excited vivacity of what, he could not have 
 told. He said little. 
 
 A wiser than John has confessed his inability 
 to account for the way of a maid with a man. As he 
 was leaving her at her home she said impulsively, 
 " John, I'm sorry I was so nasty about your misun 
 derstanding with father. Won't you tell me what it 
 is about his business you dislike? Perhaps, if I had 
 your point of view " 
 
 But he shook his head.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE CALL 
 
 THE Consolidated Coal Company was a fact, a 
 splendid, epoch-making fact. 
 
 The last stubborn hold-out, surrendering to Hamp- 
 den's skilful negotiations, to necessity and pressure of 
 public opinion, had been led triumphantly into camp 
 and on Hampden's terms. Among the hills west of 
 town things began to happen under his forceful direc 
 tion. A spur from the railroad was being con 
 structed. A village of rough shanties was hastily 
 thrown together to house the colony of miners that 
 was to be brought later. If we may believe the Globe, 
 a notable ceremony occurred when Hampden him 
 self, amid an interested group of farmers assembled 
 for the occasion, drove the first pick into the outcrop 
 ping on 'Ri Cranshawe's farm. It was observable 
 that citizens of New Chelsea, speaking of " our town " 
 to citizens of Plumville, had abandoned the attitude of 
 defiant apology for the emphatic accents of pride. In 
 the Square men began to step more briskly. An at 
 mosphere of businesslike haste pervaded the town. 
 The price of real estate promptly advanced; lots on 
 Main Street were held at one thousand dollars it 
 is true, no purchaser appeared. Visions of expansion, 
 of prosperity, filled the eye. 
 
 Cranshawe one day explained to John why he and 
 his Deer Township neighbors had capitulated. 
 
 88
 
 THE CALL 89 
 
 " We got to take what we can git. It takes a lot 
 o' money to develop coal lands. Hampden has it 
 an' we hain't. Even if we had it, we don't know 
 nothin' about the coal business. An' Hampden was 
 too smart fer us. We found he'd got all the right o' 
 ways. If we could find any one to buy our coal, he 
 couldn't 'a' shipped, 'ceptin' over Hampden's right o' 
 way. I don't like to be held up, but it's my only 
 chance to leave anything fer my children. You can't 
 divide two hundred acres amongst seven an' give much 
 to any of 'em. An' I guess," he added thoughtfully, 
 " if a man's got something the world can use, he 
 hain't the right to hold it back just because he can't 
 make his own terms." 
 
 " I hope it will all turn out for the best," said John, 
 fearing he hardly knew why that it might not so 
 turn out. 
 
 " Seems like," said Cranshawe, " the feller with 
 money has the whip-hand over the feller with some 
 thing to sell or develop. A man that has money can 
 make money without earnin' it nowadays. It don't 
 seem square some ways. Seems like there's some 
 thing wrong with our system somewheres. Trouble 
 is, even when we know it's wrong, we don't want to 
 change it, hopin' that some day it'll give us a chanct 
 to make money the same way." 
 
 " O, no ! " John protested. " I'd hate to believe 
 that. I can't believe it. Men aren't all of the dog- 
 eat-dog species." 
 
 " Well," said 'Ri, a little ashamed, " I don't know 
 as I believe it myself. Guess I'm a little peevish over 
 bein' outbargained by Steve Hampden. I wish," he 
 added thoughtfully, " you could be lawyer fer the
 
 90 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 company. It looks like us farmers won't have much 
 say in the business. I'd like to have some one on the 
 inside who could tell us what's goin' on." 
 
 " No chance of that, 'Ri. Hampden doesn't think 
 much of me." He did not tell Cranshawe why he had 
 lost the capitalist's favor. 
 
 The net result of his quixotism, he thought with 
 some bitterness, was to win Hampden's hostility and 
 to put himself out of the way of protecting his farmer 
 friends. 
 
 And late in October occurred the Republican rally. 
 
 It was necessary to marshal the shaken Republican 
 hosts. For into Benton County had marched a 
 young man who in a single speech broke through the 
 defenses so painstakingly reared by Jeremy Applegate 
 and his fellow soldiers. None other than Jerry Brent. 
 A big, rawboned, homely fellow, uncouth in manner 
 and sometimes in grammar, but with a crude, passion 
 ate eloquence that always carried his audience with 
 him. He had been a coal-miner, a labor organizer, 
 and had, after a struggle so common that description 
 stales, been admitted to the practice of law. In all 
 the thirty-five years of his life the charge of material 
 dishonesty had never been raised against him, he was 
 still poor. And he was counted a rising man in the 
 Democratic party; not with the connivance of his party 
 bosses, however. They considered him a radical, un 
 safe and cardinal crime in an honest and unman 
 ageable young man ! ambitious. Respectable peo 
 ple sneered at his " antics." It was said that his eyes 
 were fixed on the next Democratic nomination for gov 
 ernor. Even with this suspicion rankling in their 
 minds the bosses dared not so popular was he among
 
 THE CALL 91 
 
 labor men refuse him opportunity; to speak during 
 the campaign. 
 
 John, an inconspicuous listener, heard Brent's Ben- 
 ton County speech. It troubled him ; it seemed to him 
 unanswerable. Brent, it was true, dealt in terms of 
 suspicion, not of facts, but it was a suspicion that 
 found a swift echo in the hearts of his audience. He 
 frankly said as much. 
 
 " Of course, we don't know all the inside facts of 
 machine government. If we did, the knowledge would 
 make us ashamed of being American citizens. But 
 machines don't breed friends of the people to tell 
 us. But some things are so plain we don't need 
 proof to know 'em. We know that a trust company 
 was smashed and its cashier committed suicide be 
 cause the politicians through the state deposits 
 were able to manipulate it. We know that no bank 
 can secure state deposits without political pull. We 
 know that the state gets little or no interest on its 
 moneys in those banks, and we can guess that some one 
 else gets the interest the state ought to receive. And 
 that's a little thing. We can forgive them the money 
 they steal. But it ain't a little thing when they steal 
 our right of self-government. We don't govern this 
 state. One man Murchell picks out our officers 
 and tells 'em what to do while in office. You people 
 don't govern Benton County. One man Jim Shee- 
 han, Murchell's tool chooses your commissioners, 
 your treasurers, your sheriffs, your district attorneys." 
 John winced. "And it's wrong my God! it's 
 wrong! " the orator cried passionately. " It would be 
 wrong, even if these men were honest. And I blame 
 you for it. You haven't the right to shove your re-
 
 92 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 sponsibility on other men's shoulders, and they haven't 
 the right to take the power. ..." 
 
 The man's hot, rough eloquence found a lodgment 
 where least expected, in John's heart, already sensi 
 tized by his own discoveries and questionings. Jerry 
 Brent was right. ... As John looked at the ora 
 tor, sweating from his violent gesticulations and shout 
 ing, the strong, ugly face often convulsed by his pas 
 sion, shame burned within him. He wished he had 
 not come to the meeting; his self-esteem did not relish 
 being told what he already knew that he was being 
 used as a cat's-paw, and for a purpose essentially dis 
 honest. 
 
 The oldest inhabitant could not remember when the 
 Republican party had been so vigorously attacked. To 
 stem the tide of revolt John felt it strongly in his 
 canvass an old-time rally was to be held in the 
 Square. Sheehan instructed John as to the part which 
 the latter was to play. 
 
 "You're to speak. Hit 'er up hard. Tell 'em all 
 about the G. O. P. bein' the friend of the farmer. Feed 
 'em the tariff. Wave the flag you know how. It's 
 your chance. Parrott and Sherrod'll be there. Par- 
 rott's no slouch of a speaker but you can beat him. 
 Farmers like a good speech." 
 
 " I don't know that I care to make the speech." 
 
 " Don't you want to be elected ? " Sheehan de 
 manded. 
 
 " I guess so. Yes," with sudden vigor and a short 
 laugh that Sheehan did not understand. " I do." 
 
 " Well, then ! Play up your independence. Tell 
 'em there's no strings tied to you." 
 
 " I can tell them that with truth."
 
 THE CALL 93 
 
 Sheehan looked long and hard at him. Then he 
 chuckled. "Of course. And don't forget the state 
 ticket when you're talkin'." 
 
 When he was alone, John fairly writhed in his self- 
 contempt and hatred of the boss. "The big beast! 
 He thinks I'm to be one of his puppets, that when I'm 
 elected I'll take his orders as others do. I'll show 
 him! I'll " He stopped suddenly and fell back 
 in his chair helpless. What would he do? What 
 could he do he, beneficiary of the man's power? 
 
 He prepared a fine speech. And then came the 
 night of the rally the pomp and panoply of war. 
 
 We stand with John under the big elm at the north 
 west corner of the Square, where Main and North 
 Streets meet. Before us is the rough board speakers' 
 stand, hastily knocked together and liberally bedecked 
 with flags and lithographs of Lincoln and of Beck, the 
 Republican candidate for treasurer. In front are 
 many rows of pine benches. Over all falls the white 
 splendor of the full October moon, to be dimmed when 
 the four kerosene torches guarding the speakers' stand 
 are set flaring and smoking; and by many other 
 lights. On the morrow sundry mothers, surveying 
 oil-stained caps and coats, will decry all electioneering, 
 but to-night no boy need go unhappy ; there are torches 
 for all. Some canny-souled youths are more than 
 happy; they have discovered that for the joy of being 
 light-bearers and helping to make this a memorable, 
 gala night in Benton County they can obtain the sum of 
 five cents, thus combining pleasure with profit and tak 
 ing their first lesson in politics. 
 
 Debouching into Main Street from other roads 
 comes a steady stream of steeds, gaunt and strong and
 
 94 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 slow-moving as the human freight they draw, shying 
 awkwardly at the lights flashed in their eyes by reck 
 less, mischievous boys. The steeds are safely hitched 
 in various churchyards and the drivers gather in the 
 Square, in shifting, serious groups. Gradually the 
 Square fills. A hoarse hum of voices rises. The air 
 becomes charged with an unnatural excitement the 
 sense of an occasion! bred of the strange lights and 
 bustle and the presence of many men. John, between 
 handshakes, has time to feel it. His lagging soul, 
 jaded by much questioning, leaps forth suddenly re 
 sponsive. These men are the people. The power 
 of it the power and the glory ! He thrills under a 
 sense of oneness with them. Murchell and his ma 
 chine, Sheehan and his control, seem far away, unreal, 
 impossible. 
 
 Jeremy Applegate does not thrill. Jeremy is wot- 
 ried. Many on his list have heard Brent's speech ana 
 are wavering, may even break the promise made to 
 their " comrade." He is wearing a faded blue uni 
 form with a little bronze button in the lapel of the 
 coat and, as he limps hurriedly from group to group, 
 his hand often seeks the pocket where repose the elo 
 quent cigars. He leaves behind him a wake of fra 
 grant tobacco and kindly glances. 
 
 The hand at last finds a depleted pocket. Jeremy 
 limps hastily over to John, who stands for the moment 
 lost in his dreaming. 
 
 " Got any cigars, John? I'm out." 
 
 John descends from dreams to tobacco, which is 
 real and, it seems, indispensable. He makes a fruit 
 less search. " Nary a one. Can't you campaign with 
 out cigars, Jeremy ? "
 
 THE CALL 95 
 
 " They expect 'em. I'll have to go to the drug 
 store." 
 
 But John stops him. " Jeremy, how much have you 
 spent for cigars this campaign ? " 
 
 " More'n thirty dollars, I expect," sighs Jeremy. 
 
 " Come around to-morrow and I'll make it up to 
 you." 
 
 Jeremy's eyes suddenly fill in his gratitude, but he 
 shakes his head. " You can't afford it." 
 
 " Can you? " Jeremy thinks of the dress that Mrs. 
 Jeremy needs so badly and is silent. But he does not 
 forget his cause. 
 
 " Give me part of it now I can get more cigars." 
 
 John's protest dies in a half laugh. He fishes forth 
 a bill and gives it to Jeremy, who, overcome by this 
 windfall, can only mumble, " Thank you." 
 
 John nods toward the gathering crowd. " Great, 
 isn't it ? Makes a man feel " 
 
 But Jeremy, the war-worn, is not impressed. 
 " Huh ! Means nothin'. Speeches don't do any ( 
 good." 
 
 " Brent's did." 
 
 :< Yes," Jeremy answers "bitterly. " He had some- 
 thin' to say. Fer God's sake, Johnny, give 'em some- 
 thin' to think about ! Give 'em a reason ! " 
 
 John remembers the carefully-conned speech in his 
 pocket and suddenly flushes. He watches Jeremy limp 
 up the street toward the drug-store. Jeremy, too, is 
 of the people. 
 
 " Cuttin' a melon, bo? I'm willin'," a coarse voice 
 behind him laughs familiarly. 
 
 John turns to survey the speaker, a big, hulking 
 man, pot-bellied, bow-legged; a short, thick neck sup-
 
 96 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 porting a round, small head ; little, furtive eyes out of 
 which a brave soul never looked. John recoils from 
 his familiarity. 
 
 " Barkis is willin'," the coarse voice laughs again. 
 
 " Who are you ? " John asks curtly. 
 
 " I'm Butch Maley, sonny, an' me pocket has that 
 empty feelin'," the man grins affably. " Saw you 
 handin' it out to the peg-leg." 
 
 " I was paying a debt." 
 
 " Sure ! Pay me a debt, too." 
 
 " I owe you nothing." 
 
 " You will before election's over." The rough 
 laugh grates on John's nerves. " An' the boys is 
 havin' a blow-out to-morrer night somep'n on you'll 
 taste good." 
 
 " You're at the wrong place, my friend." John's 
 disgust is evident. " I've no money for you." He 
 turns away. 
 
 But the man puts forth a rough hand to detain him. 
 " Guess you didn't hear who I am. I'm Butch 
 Maley." " 
 
 " You look it." 
 
 " Don't git fresh, kid ! " The heavy, sensual face is 
 lowering. " I'm Butch Maley fourt' precinc', 
 fourt' ward. See? Guess you don't know what that 
 means ? " 
 
 " Nothing pleasant, I'm sure. And take your hand 
 from my shoulder," John replies sharply, as he turns 
 away from the profanely-growling man. The gross 
 creature has irritated him unreasonably. Butch 
 Maley, too, is of the people. 
 
 But, hark! From down by the station comes the 
 strident shriek of a locomotive. It is the train bearing
 
 THE CALL 97 
 
 the candidates and the Plumville delegation. There is 
 a lull of a few moments; we wait impatiently, know 
 ing that the procession is forming. Then on the air 
 rise the distant strains of Marching Through Geor 
 gia played by the Plumville brass band. We thrill 
 who could help it? The strains come nearer, 
 clearer. The procession wheels with more or less pre 
 cision into Main Street. First, the red- jacketed band 
 playing lustily it is John Brown's Body now 
 and surrounded by jubilant young Lucifers, the stal 
 wart drum-major performing miracles with his baton. 
 Then the speaking party John ought to be of it 
 seated in three open barouches festooned with bun 
 ting. And then the Plumville Fourth Ward Marching 
 Club, twirling red, white and blue umbrellas and smok 
 ing unanimously: slack-jawed, bleary-eyed fellows 
 most of them, useful only for voting and for pur 
 poses of display, camp followers; their souls would 
 rattle lonesomely in a pea-shell. John surveys them 
 with disgust. And yet these also are of the peo 
 ple. Characteristically, as they approach the Square, 
 they break ranks and rush to get front seats. The 
 fumes of their cigars rise to mingle with the rancid^ 
 smell of burning kerosene. 
 
 The candidates, properly acclaimed, and their party 
 of distinguished citizens are on the platform. The 
 benches are filled; around them stands a fringe of 
 men, mostly farmers, who in the rush for seats have 
 been too slow. John, sandwiched in between Sheehan 
 and Congressman Jenkins, looks out over the audi 
 ence, a strange question in his eyes; he is seeking a 
 " reason," as though it were to be found written on 
 the faces of the men before him.
 
 98 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 The speaking begins. After a short preliminary 
 speech the chairman introduces Beck, candidate for 
 treasurer, as inconsiderable now as he will be when 
 in office. Then comes Parrott, a famous corpora 
 tion lawyer whose features somehow suggest that he 
 is well named; he is adept in the use of those phrases 
 which elicit enthusiasm but do not convince. After 
 him Mark Sherrod, state senator, a tall, suave man 
 with a magnetic something about him; one of his eyes 
 has a slight cast and gives his face a sinister expres 
 sion which not all his undoubted attraction can re 
 move. He is a coming man ; already a power in the 
 big eastern city, it is whispered that he is planning to 
 succeed Beck in the treasurership. And after him the 
 Honorable G. Washington Jenkins, congressman from 
 the district, Lincolnian in figure, shrill and nasal of 
 voice, but with the old campaigner's fund of stories 
 and a rough-and-ready eloquence that catches the 
 crowd. 
 
 The old trees in the Square might smile, had the Al 
 mighty equipped them with a facial apparatus, as the 
 familiar shafts of oratory hurtle through their gnarled 
 branches. Once more we are in the throes of civil 
 war, the earth trembles 'neath the tread of mighty 
 armies. Cannons roar, that smoke rising from the 
 kerosene torches and cigars may well be the thick, 
 white pall of the battleground. The cold shivers 
 chase up and down our spine as we gaze upon fields 
 wet with blood. Nobly the speakers repulse the gray- 
 clad hosts on Cemetery Hill, clamber up the embattled 
 slopes of Vicksburg, force their iron way through the 
 thick Wilderness. The hozannas of four million odd 
 freedmen fill the air. The grandeur of Lincoln is a
 
 THE CALL 99 
 
 fruitful source of eloquence; his spirit dwells with us, 
 it seems. The fertile fields of the West are opened 
 and made to bring forth their bountiful yield before 
 our eyes; by some mysterious process of reasoning 
 this triumph of civilization is due to the genius of the 
 Republican party. 
 
 The tariff is matter for much pride ; we are pointed 
 to a thousand smokeless chimneys reference is to the 
 late panic standing mute but eternal witnesses to 
 the fallacy of Democratic doctrine. We are solemnly 
 warned against the evil of voting for the fifty cent 
 dollar. The hungry are invited to receive a " full din 
 ner pail " a brand new slogan. If any virtue is not 
 claimed for our party, it is an oversight that will be 
 corrected by the next speaker. We almost feel the 
 presence of Omnipotence as the Honorable Wash 
 Jenkins fervently adjures us to cast our votes for 
 " the party of progress, the party of conservatism, of 
 wisdom and courage and power, the party of the farm 
 er, the manufacturer, the laborer of the people, 
 the party of Prosperity! the party of Lincoln, who 
 said that ' government of the people, by the people and 
 for the people shall not perish from the earth.' ' 
 
 The front seats roar their approval. From the fringe 
 of farmers, Jim Sheehan observes, comes only grim 
 silence. There is an uneasy sense that Jerry Brent's 
 suspicions have not been answered. 
 
 Through it all John sat, hardly moving. But within 
 him was tumult. He was contrasting the grandilo 
 quent, virtuous phrases with the Machine as he had 
 seen it. And he knew that in the Jeremys, the Maleys, 
 the devious devices of which he could not help hear 
 ing hints in his campaigning, he had caught but a
 
 ioo HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 glimpse of the thing the Machine. He did not be 
 lieve that good employs evil to its ends ; by its agencies 
 a cause was to be judged. He sighted along the line 
 of those who profited by it Sheehan, Beck, Parrott, 
 Sherrod, Murchell the line was lost in the mist of 
 his incomplete knowledge. This knowledge, his rank 
 ling suspicions, Brent's questionings, rose up to con 
 front him, demanding like Jeremy a " reason." He 
 could not find it. And the people, the sturdy, patient, 
 hard-headed men out there were they such dolts as 
 to be fooled by the hollow mockery being enacted be 
 fore them? He could not believe it. And yet he 
 he who doubted was expected to play a part in the 
 mockery, to give the lie to his inner consciousness, to 
 befog the issue in the minds of the listeners, to take 
 his place in the ranks of the Machine. The speech in 
 his pocket burned to the skin. 
 
 The tumult was still raging when the Honorable 
 Wash Jenkins concluded his florid peroration and the 
 applause died down. Vaguely, as from a distance, 
 John heard the chairman introduce " New Chelsea's 
 candidate " and the sudden cheers that rose. He did 
 not realize, although Parrott and Sherrod did, that in 
 the cheers was a quality not felt in the other greetings 
 that night. He rose mechanically. He hardly knew 
 when Sheehan, grasping his arm, shouted into his ear, 
 " Don't forget the state ticket. Play it up hard ! " 
 He walked to the front of the platform ; the cheers re 
 doubled, then subsided. The fringe of farmers 
 pressed forward a little. 
 
 He stood silent before them. The well-conned 
 speech, with its smooth periods, the dramatic climaxes 
 to which his clear, flexible voice lent itself so beauti-
 
 THE CALL 101 
 
 fully, refused to be uttered. He could not speak the 
 lie he had prepared; a " reason " he had not. His si 
 lence compelled silence, the tense stillness of wonder 
 ment that spread even to the boys on the outskirts of 
 the crowd. 
 
 At last words came, in a dry, suppressed voice. He 
 did not mean to be facetious, and no one laughed at 
 his grave, protesting irony. 
 
 " We have heard to-night of the past glories of our 
 party and of glories that are of the nation. I shall 
 not repeat, lest repetition dull their point. I have 
 been asked not to forget the state ticket, in fact, to 
 play it up hard. I need hardly speak for the gentle 
 men who have so eloquently spoken for themselves. 
 I presume they do not wish to be saddled with responsi 
 bility for any of my shortcomings, nor do I wish to be 
 judged by theirs. I am a candidate for office. If 
 you think me the sort of man to administer that office 
 honestly and well, without fear or favor, and as my 
 own man,, I shall be happy. If you don't think that, 
 you can't believe that any party's history will make me 
 an honest official. And that's all I can say." 
 
 He turned and walked toward the rear of the plat 
 form. The silence continued. Slack jaws fell slacker. 
 The fringe of farmers stood motionless, bewildered, 
 slow to grasp the significance of the short speech. 
 Through the silence the voice of Jim Sheehan, first to 
 recover presence of mind, carried over the crowd to 
 Main Street. 
 
 " For God's sake, start a tune or something ! " This 
 to the band. 
 
 Some one laughed. The band began to play When 
 Johnny Comes Marching Home, of all tunes ! Peo-
 
 102 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 pie began to rise from their seats ; it was not necessary 
 for the chairman to announce the end of the meeting. 
 
 On the stage John faced a wrathful tableau, Par- 
 rott, Sherrod and Sheehan. " What the hell " be 
 gan Sheehan, but the suave Sherrod, minus his suavity, 
 interrupted, " What do you mean? If you can't sup 
 port the ticket, you had no right to speak at all. You 
 abuse courtesy, young man." 
 
 " Not yours, at any rate," John answered, and 
 walked from the stage. 
 
 He made his way quickly behind it and out around 
 the crowd. He was dazed by his own act. He had 
 one desire, to get away by himself where he could 
 think out the significance of the thing that, driven by 
 something uncontrollable within him, he had done. A 
 heavy sense of treachery was upon him, yet he could 
 not have done otherwise. He had not eyes for the 
 curious glances, many of them more friendly than he 
 could then have believed, cast toward him. 
 
 On the edge of the crowd he met Jeremy, a fright 
 ened yet exultant Jeremy. 
 
 " Jeremy ! " He read accusation on the troubled 
 old face. " I'm sorry. I couldn't help it I couldn't 
 find the reason." 
 
 " Sorry ! " Jeremy leaned closer, until his face was 
 not two hands' breadth from John's. " The county'll 
 prob'ly go Democratic but you're a man. You 
 didn't tell a lie for a job, anyways." 
 
 Jeremy turned away, to see Farmer Sykes' wizened, 
 sardonic face leering at him. 
 
 " That's it, Jeremy," the dry voice cackled. " Give 
 it to 'im, give it to 'im hard. What right's he got to 
 have a soul? "
 
 THE CALL 103 
 
 Jeremy shrank away into the crowd, frightened, glad 
 that he had not been overheard. No one must know 
 that he, too, for a moment had reclaimed his own soul, 
 lest the precious job be taken from him. 
 
 John, walking swiftly with eyes cast down, would 
 have passed without noticing the fashionable trap in 
 front of his home, had not a voice from it called to 
 him. 
 
 "John, John!"
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE WILDERNESS ROAD 
 
 HE stopped and stared at her in astonishment. 
 " Katherine ! What are you doing here ? " 
 
 " Listening to the speeches, of course. O, you 
 needn't look so surprised I've been well chaperoned, 
 thank you, between Williams here and Miss Roberta. 
 And it has been such fun ! We stood under the trees 
 on the edge of the crowd, where we could hear the 
 speakers and the comments of the farmers. Miss 
 Roberta? O, she has fled into the house, afraid to 
 be caught showing an interest in her wonderful 
 nephew. Isn't that just like her? Don't tell her I've 
 tattled." 
 
 " But I don't understand why you should want to 
 come." 
 
 " You're so stupid sometimes," she sighed impa 
 tiently. " To hear you speak, of course. I've always 
 wanted to. I wanted dad to come along, but he said 
 no, his interest in politics was practical, not senti 
 mental, and he preferred to take his vaudeville straight. 
 He was in quite a bad humor because I wanted to 
 come. But I am here." 
 
 " I wish you hadn't come," he said, still in a daze. 
 
 " That's kind, I'm sure." She tossed her head in 
 burlesque hauteur. " Instead, you might offer to drive 
 home with me. Williams can stay here and drive 
 back when you return." 
 
 104
 
 THE WILDERNESS ROAD 105 
 
 He shook his head. " I'd better not," he muttered. 
 He still wanted to get away by himself to think. 
 
 "Please!" She leaned forward and urged him 
 softly. " It's our last chance for a good chat. We 
 go away to-morrow morning." 
 
 He tried honestly to resist, feeling instinctively that 
 for him she spelled danger and that every hour with 
 her added to the danger. But he made the mistake 
 of looking at her. Always she was revealing some 
 new charm for him and, despite his inner warning, now 
 bred in him a sort of recklessness. When she re 
 sorted to appeal, the charm became doubly alluring. 
 And in the fitful half-light from the torches in the 
 Square, her eyes bright with excitement and an eager 
 interest that he felt was new, she was to him very 
 beautiful, very desirable. He called himself a weak 
 ling, a fool that played with fire. 
 
 And, so styling himself, he assented. 
 
 " Then," she said, eminently practical, " you'd bet 
 ter go get your overcoat. Miss Roberta has been 
 fretting all evening because you weren't wearing one. 
 And I don't care to answer to her, thank you, if you 
 catch your death of cold." 
 
 He obeyed, subtly flattered by her care. Soon they 
 had left the town behind them and were bowling along 
 the moonlit road. She drew the impatient cob down 
 to a leisurely trot, so slow that homeward-bound 
 farmers occasionally passed them with ease. 
 
 John, letting the rally and the problem it presented 
 drift into the background, gave himself up to a reck 
 less enjoyment of the hour. The white splendor of 
 the moon undimmed by smoky torches, the silent 
 majesty of the hills with their shadows and silvery
 
 io6 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 sheen, alone were real. The crowd of faces peering 
 intently at him through the half gloom, the struggle 
 within him as he stood before them, his ironic rejection 
 of the part assigned him, seemed unreal, creatures of a 
 fantastic dream. 
 
 And the girl beside him, like him smitten into silence, 
 was real, very real. Once, driving over a stone, she 
 swayed against his shoulder; a current of fire swept 
 through him, mounting intoxicating to his brain. 
 
 Suddenly she broke into a laugh, a low, subdued 
 laugh. " So we add a moonlight excursion to the list 
 of our adventures. We shall have all hours of the day 
 to remember, shan't we? It seems," she added com- 
 plainingly, " that I must always take the aggressive. 
 But then you never hunt me out so what can I do ? 
 I suppose most people would call me unwomanly. Do 
 you think me that ? " 
 
 " I do not," he answered unsteadily. " You can't 
 expect the beneficiary to be critical." 
 
 "Do you mean that, I wonder? Or is it only 
 your nice way of letting me down easily? But I am 
 not conferring, I am seeking. A a friendship 
 such as ours means a great deal to me." Her voice 
 dwindled away into silence. 
 
 He could not understand, even in his recklessness 
 could not accept at its face value, her sudden new gen 
 tleness. He was not so stupid as not to know that 
 during the summer she had singled him out for her 
 favor. But he had not the monstrous egotism which 
 enables a man to believe that every woman who looks 
 kindly upon him is making love to him. He had no 
 theories of woman as the huntress. But he was hard 
 put to it to keep a tight grip on himself, to fight down
 
 THE WILDERNESS ROAD 107 
 
 the longing surging within him. Insistently he tried 
 to think of her as she was, an unformed woman of 
 essential selfishness, of generous caprices. He had 
 not yet found the solution to the problem presented 
 to him by his campaign, but he felt blindly that it was 
 leading him into paths whither she would not follow, 
 into which he, if he yielded to his longing, would not 
 
 could not go alone. He had sometimes thought 
 he felt in her that which would carry her to great 
 heights; yet he knew she was now of the earth, 
 earthy. He feared her, feared that in a contest of 
 souls she would prove the stronger. And, besides, the 
 new hope called forth by her new gentleness was ab 
 surd. She was a creature of luxury. He thought of 
 his last year's income and laughed unpleasantly. 
 
 " Why this sudden hilarity ? " she demanded. 
 
 "It's a joke I've just thought of you wouldn't 
 appreciate it." 
 
 She looked at him intently. He averted his gaze. 
 
 " Are you sure I shouldn't? " she asked. 
 
 " Quite," he answered. 
 
 " Was it," she pressed him, " was it about your 
 speech to-night ? " 
 
 " Indirectly, I suppose," he replied, still looking the 
 other way, willing that she should think the rally the 
 cause of his mirth. 
 
 " Will you tell me about that ? It was the reason 
 
 one reason why I wanted you to come home with 
 me. I'm of two minds about it. Of course, I didn't 
 understand what it was all about, except that you were 
 expected to say far more and something different. 
 Any one could see that the men on the platform were 
 angry. But one had the feeling that somehow you
 
 io8 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 were finding and asserting yourself doing some 
 thing rather splendid. I know it made Aunt Roberta 
 begin to snuffle she said it was a cold in her head. 
 I heard one man near us a big, hulking farmer 
 say, ' By Joshua ! I always thought there was con- 
 sider'ble of a man under that white skin of Johnny 
 Dunmeade's.' He didn't mean to be funny, I think. 
 Another, a different sort of man, laughed and said, 
 ' Now that's the cleverest move yet. He's had the wit 
 to size up the situation in this county and kick himself 
 loose from a rotten ticket. It's a grandstand play, 
 but it'll make him if he's big enough to follow it up. 
 It'll get him a following.' " 
 
 She looked up at him inquiringly. He saw again the 
 eager interest in her eyes. 
 
 " It was neither splendid nor crafty," he said 
 grimly. " I was expected to rant and lie about the 
 virtues of candidates I've no faith in, cover up a lot of 
 things that, it seems, can't be answered. I had that 
 speech ready. But when it came to the point I 
 couldn't say it. That's all." 
 
 " But I can see," she said reflectively, " how that 
 might mean finding yourself. But the man was right 
 it will make you? " 
 
 Her interest was explained, he thought bitterly. It 
 was the cynic's observation that had interpreted the 
 speech for her. 
 
 " More likely the contrary," he answered. In the 
 bright moonlight he could see her face fall. " Shee- 
 han and the organization will probably knife me under 
 cover and beat me." 
 
 " O, surely not ! I don't know much about politics, 
 of course, but I should think, if your speech has made
 
 THE WILDERNESS ROAD 109 
 
 you friends, they would be the more apt to stand by 
 you." 
 
 " I don't know much about politics either," he said 
 dryly, " but I am learning. This is very simple. I 
 suspect they nominated me only to bring strength to 
 the state ticket. Now that I've put it out of my power 
 to help it, in fact have publicly refused to support it, 
 they'll punish me if only as a horrible example to 
 the next young man who happens along with a work 
 ing conscience." 
 
 " Why," she exclaimed incredulously, " that would 
 elect a Democrat, wouldn't it? " 
 
 " I'd have been as incredulous myself five months 
 ago." 
 
 " But Senator Murchell won't allow it, surely." 
 
 " Senator Murchell will be the first to recommend 
 the knifing," he laughed shortly. " I begin to suspect 
 that the senator is a false god." 
 
 "What have you against the candidates?" 
 
 " It's rather against the forces behind them. Bad 
 methods and general suspicion, I guess. I probably 
 couldn't make it clear." 
 
 " Just that ? I do not think," she said slowly, " that 
 I like it, after all. I'm disappointed in for you." 
 
 " Would you have me lie ? For that's what it would 
 amount to." 
 
 " O," she cried, " that's not a fair way to put it. 
 I'm so ambitious for you ! That's unwomanly, too, I 
 suppose, but I don't care! I am ambitious for you. 
 And I do so admire the men who get along! And in 
 politics you could go so far. You have Senator Mur- 
 chell's friendship. You don't know how much he ad 
 mires you. And you have brains and popularity.
 
 no 
 
 Everybody says that; even father admits it. Then 
 why make enemies needlessly? Of course, it's fine to 
 use one's power for good, but one must get the power 
 first. And I Do you know what I would do, if 
 I were a man like you ? I would go into politics seri 
 ously. I would master methods and conditions and 
 adapt them to my purpose. I would keep on until the 
 organization I know something about organiza 
 tions; I've been quizzing Senator Murchell this sum 
 mer was mine. And then, when my power was 
 secure, I would remove, little by little, the evils I saw, 
 and when I had finished and measured my compromises 
 against the good I had done, I know the balance would 
 be in my favor. And, after all, in life, isn't good or 
 evil merely a question of balances?" Her eloquence 
 was inspiring. 
 
 But he merely smiled bitterly. " And I suspect that 
 by the time I'd got the power in the fashion you de 
 scribe, I'd have become the sort of man that doesn't 
 use his power for good." 
 
 " I suppose," she sighed, " there's no use arguing 
 with you. Dad said you are the sort of man that will 
 do good in his own way or not at all." 
 
 To this he maintained a grim silence. 
 
 " What are you going to do about it ? " 
 
 " About the election ? " He shrugged his shoulders 
 in indifference. " Let 'em beat me, I suppose. I 
 haven't thought ahead as far as to-morrow." 
 
 " O, well, it's done anyway, so we needn't argue 
 about it. I wish," she cried impatiently, " I were 
 either more or less selfish. I suppose you think me 
 wholly selfish ? " He looked at her quickly, surprised 
 at the almost wistful inflection.
 
 "I know you care," she answered simply
 
 THE WILDERNESS ROAD in 
 
 Yet he thought a moment before answering, " Not 
 wholly selfish." 
 
 " But you're cudgeling your brains to find evidence 
 that I'm not, and can't." Her laugh rang out unpleas 
 antly. "That wasn't a very tactful answer, was it? 
 I can give you one bit of evidence, though. Now 
 that it's all over, I can admire your refusing to make 
 that speech. It was splendid in a way. You see, I 
 can appreciate unselfishness in the abstract or when it 
 can't be remedied." 
 
 " I told you that wasn't unselfish ; it was involun 
 tary," he insisted. " But I can add to the evidence 
 your kindly, even if mistaken, interest in me and my fu 
 ture. Arid you mustn't sneer at yourself," he added 
 gravely. 
 
 She turned to look fairly into his eyes. " Do you 
 still think it necessary to let me down easily ? " she 
 asked quietly. 
 
 He drew a sharp, whistling breath. Bewildered, he 
 stared at her, brain rocking, heart leaping convulsively, 
 as he realized the import of her words. His body be 
 came rigid, nails biting into palms, in the effort not to 
 take her in his arms. For, without reasoning, he 
 knew that to accept now what she, unasked, had offered 
 would be to place himself in her power. And that he 
 dared not! 
 
 For a long moment their eyes clung; then at the 
 same instant they both looked hastily away. 
 
 The silent minutes lengthened, as the cob drew 
 them slowly up the face of East Ridge. Behind them 
 lay the valley, always beautiful, never so wondrous 
 as in the pallor of night; but they looked steadfastly 
 ahead.
 
 Ii2 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 To his credit be it written, John did not think carp- 
 ingly of her boldness let us use the word he used, 
 courage. His longing was not lessened because she 
 had abandoned the woman's weapon of indirection for 
 the man's frankness. Yet his hold on himself did not 
 relax ; it became even the more secure. And he won 
 dered at the strength now revealed within him, able to 
 resist the temptation of her. Her shallow, immature 
 sophistry he cast aside as inconsiderable; she herself 
 was the temptation, a continuing temptation, he fore 
 saw. He knew all that she was, and he knew, too, that 
 he desired, would always desire her above all good 
 things that life holds; yet between them stood an ideal 
 that was still essential to him. And he believed that he 
 had strength to put her the temptation away from 
 him. He believed that she could not have made him 
 speak the part assigned to him in the farce of the early 
 evening. He felt that she could not deter him from 
 what? 
 
 He put aside his self measuring. From what? 
 What was he to do that made impossible the taking of 
 this girl by his side, his to take ? 
 
 He had said in answer to her question, " I don't 
 know. Let them beat me, I suppose." He suddenly 
 knew that was not true. The challenge flung down 
 when his soul, flogged by his gathering knowledge, had 
 become articulate, must be sustained. He could not 
 let himself be swept aside through cowardly default. 
 He must make his fight. 
 
 A warm glow enveloped him, his blood quickened. 
 He straightened up, throwing back his shoulders, as 
 though to brace himself for a physical conflict. He 
 spoke aloud.
 
 THE WILDERNESS ROAD 113 
 
 " I will fight them." 
 
 She turned to look at him again. " You have 
 thought as far ahead as to-morrow," she said steadily. 
 
 " Further than that." 
 
 They turned into the road that runs along the crest 
 of the Ridge. The horse, left to its own gait, trotted 
 swiftly the mile to the Hampden place and up the 
 poplar-lined driveway. The two in the trap sat 
 silent. 
 
 When he had helped her to alight, both her hands 
 were in his. He did not release them nor did she 
 seek to disturb his clasp. She met his gaze unfalter 
 ingly. 
 
 " Listen ! " he said gently. " I didn't know that you 
 cared. I, too, care; far more than you will believe." 
 
 " I know you care," she answered simply. " And 
 why you won't take me." 
 
 " I have known it ever since our ride," he went on. 
 " That is why I have not seen you since. And a 
 poor man has not the right to do more than ask a 
 woman used to luxury to share his life ; he must not 
 try to persuade. And he has not the right to ask any 
 woman, unless she can sympathize with him, help him 
 in his work. If she couldn't, it would bring her un- 
 happiness and destroy his work. You I we are 
 not in sympathy. And a man's work, his place in 
 life, must come first. I have been led into something. 
 I can't see its end, but I feel that it could never bring 
 happiness to a girl who cares deeply for prestige and 
 power and the things that money buys. You know 
 that, too that's why you have been pointing me to a 
 different ideal." 
 
 "If I could only be sure of myself!" she cried.
 
 ii4 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 " You are so many things that I care for, and you re 
 fuse to take so many things that I care for." 
 
 " The things that you care for can be had only at 
 the expense of the things that are that I hope are 
 indispensable to me. I don't mean to be priggish." 
 
 " You aren't priggish," she answered quickly. Then 
 she went on, " I wonder, can one make oneself over? 
 I wish now that I could. But then perhaps that is 
 only because it is now. This isn't a very happy 
 moment, is it, for either of us? And it's less happy 
 for me than for you. Perhaps to-morrow, when I 
 weigh you against the things I have and want, I shall 
 find you lacking." She tried to smile. 
 
 He made no reply. He, too, was wondering, 
 Could she make herself over? Could he make her 
 over? Then he put the thought hastily away; his 
 strength, not yet fully tried, could not be trusted so 
 far. Their hands fell apart. He stood awkwardly 
 before her for a moment, then turned as though to 
 leave. 
 
 "Are you going to relinquish me wholly?" Her 
 voice was still steady, but in the moonlight her face 
 was very white. " Don't ! I this summer to 
 night you have aroused in me longings for some 
 thing different. Perhaps I may yet become big 
 enough to be happy with what you can give me with 
 you." 
 
 He was trembling. He had to steel himself again 
 before he could reply. " I can't let myself hope that 
 you will come. But if you come, it must be without 
 persuasion from me. You must understand that." 
 
 She went a few steps up the stairs toward the ter 
 race. Then she stopped and faced him again.
 
 THE WILDERNESS ROAD 115 
 
 " Good-by. And thank you for not humiliating me, 
 for saying that you cared." She said it without a 
 quaver. 
 
 She paused an almost imperceptible moment. But 
 he gave no answer. She resumed the ascent. 
 
 " Good-by." He got into the trap and drove away 
 without once looking back. She stood on the terrace 
 watching him until he turned out of the driveway into 
 the road. 
 
 " John, John ! " she whispered. " Why didn't you 
 take me in spite of myself! " Then she went into 
 the house. 
 
 In the hall she found her father, reading. He 
 looked at her sharply. 
 
 " You look done out. It was a fool errand. 
 What's Williams driving out again for? " 
 
 " It wasn't Williams," she answered. " John Dun- 
 meade came home with me." 
 
 " Humph ! " he growled. " You'll be making a 
 fool of yourself over that fellow yet, if you're not 
 careful." 
 
 " No, I won't," she said wearily. " He won't let 
 me. He doesn't want me. I virtually proposed to 
 him to-night and he virtually told me I am a selfish 
 
 pig." 
 
 " Eh ? " His newspaper dropped from, his hands 
 and he stared, open-mouthed, at her. " The devil you 
 did! Well, all I've got to say is, you got out of it 
 luckier than you deserve." 
 
 " And I suspect he is right. O, why didn't you 
 bring me up differently ? " 
 
 Again he looked at her sharply. " It's a good thing 
 we're going away to-morrow. You go up-stairs to
 
 n6 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 bed. And when you say your prayers, thank the Lord 
 that I've brought you up to be what you are and that 
 you aren't going to be the wife of a one-horse country 
 lawyer." 
 
 His tone was more vigorous than pious.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 ACROSS THE BORDER 
 
 THE next morning at the breakfast table Judge 
 Dunmeade sat in a frigid but eloquent silence. 
 It was perhaps well that he had acquired a whole 
 some respect for his sister's tongue and that she was 
 present to police the occasion. 
 
 When they rose, John began, hesitatingly, " Father, 
 last night " 
 
 " It is too late for regrets, sir." 
 
 " I am not exactly regretting. But I felt an ex 
 planation " 
 
 " Can you," the judge interrupted coldly, " explain 
 away the fact that you have betrayed the party that 
 honored you, cast discredit upon William Murchell 
 who has given you his friendship, upon me who 
 can you explain that ? " 
 
 John shook his head. " I thought I could. But, 
 now, I'm afraid not." 
 
 The judge's lips parted, then closed firmly as though 
 he could not trust himself to speak. He raised his 
 hand in a gesture in which grief and hopelessness were 
 blended and, turning, stalked slowly from the room. 
 
 John smiled uncertainly. " I'm afraid, Aunt Ro 
 berta, your bones were a true prophet." 
 
 She sighed assentingly. He went out to face his 
 neighbors an ordeal. 
 
 117
 
 n8 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 New Chelsea was rent in twain nay, into many 
 divisions by John's speech ; its honest but partizan 
 soul sorely troubled. Only the few lone Democrats 
 found humor in the situation. There were those 
 whose vocabulary proved sadly unequal to their bitter 
 ness against his shameless apostasy. Grocer Bellamy, 
 for instance, after having held forth at length con 
 cerning Arnolds and Burrs to the knot of men await 
 ing the morning mail turned an eloquent back upon 
 the arriving John. A goodly minority were equally 
 vociferous in defense. Cobbler Marks, who had 
 stepped out of his little shop for his improbable mail 
 and the certain bit of gossip, quite forgetting that he 
 had not put off his leather apron, pointedly took 
 John's arm and walked a block with him. The enmity 
 between grocer and cobbler dated from that instant. 
 
 The largest number, torn betwixt liking for their 
 young neighbor and the mental discomfort of those 
 whose traditions have been rudely jolted, withheld 
 judgment until they could see what befell. Among 
 the farmers was no dissension; a sudden lifting of 
 heads, a still half -unbelieving rejoicing that the young 
 fellow, who as he sweat with them in the fields asked 
 questions, had dared to voice their protest. 
 
 The Globe, stanchly Republican, made no mention 
 of John's part in the rally save the unconsciously hu 
 morous sentence, " Attorney John Dunmeade also 
 spoke." 
 
 Later, not greatly uplifted by the doubtful honor of 
 being a bone of contention, John was alone in his 
 office, smoking furiously, brow wrinkled, feet propped 
 on the table. A heavy tread in the outer room an 
 nounced the arrival of a visitor. Without knocking
 
 ACROSS THE BORDER 119 
 
 the new-comer flung open the door and strode into 
 the office. His hat was pushed back on his head; 
 an unlighted cigar stuck out at an aggressive angle 
 from the corner of his mouth. He surveyed John in 
 mingled anger and disgust. John, not rising, sighted 
 over lazy feet. 
 
 " Good morning, Sheehan," he said with a pleasant 
 ness that would have carried a warning to a calmer 
 observer than the boss. 
 
 Without invitation Sheehan sat down. " Well," 
 he growled, "you played hell, didn't you? " 
 
 " I tried to," John smiled. " Do you think I suc 
 ceeded? " 
 
 " When a young feller like you," Sheehan declared, 
 " thinks he is better than his party, he's got a lot to 
 learn." 
 
 John considered this statement for a moment. " I 
 do not," he concluded, " think I am better than my 
 party." 
 
 Sheehan caught the point. " Huh ! Guess you 
 don't know who the party is." 
 
 " That's just what I'm trying to decide. Perhaps 
 you can enlighten me ? " 
 
 " I can. A party," Sheehan spoke with intense 
 conviction ; " a party is those that control it." 
 
 " Then in Benton County you're the party ? " 
 
 " Exactly ! Me and Murchell." 
 
 " Then, modestly, I do think I'm better than the 
 party," John responded, still pleasantly. " And, as 
 you say, I've a lot to learn. Have you come to teach 
 me?" 
 
 " Say, hain't you no respect for my position in this 
 county? "
 
 120 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 " For your position, a great deal. For you none 
 at all." 
 
 Sheehan grinned in spite of himself. 
 
 " I like your nerve ! That's what makes me sore," 
 he went on reproachfully. " I like you. I was glad 
 to do you a favor. I gave you a chance to get in 
 strong with us. And you go and beef it by throwin' 
 down the state ticket. What in hell did you do it 
 for?" 
 
 " I'm afraid you wouldn't understand, Sheehan. 
 It's a question of ideals." 
 
 Sheehan snorted. " Ideals hell ! I know all 
 about 'em. What's ideals? Can you eat 'em? Can 
 you wear 'em? Can you stuff 'em into your pants 
 pocket like this ? " He illustrated by drawing out a 
 fat roll of bills. " Will they get you votes ? " 
 
 " Possibly not." 
 
 " Possibly not ! Say," the boss leaned forward and 
 argued earnestly, " I talk a lot of foolish talk, but 
 I'm smart enough to know the game. When I came 
 to Plumville fifteen years ago all I owned was the 
 shirt on my back. Now I can buy out any man in 
 Benton County exceptin' Steve Hampden and Mur- 
 chell, and when they want anything here they're glad 
 enough to come to me and make it worth my while 
 to give it to 'em. -/ didn't get it by liavin 3 ideals. I've 
 seen a lot o' young college fellers like you goin' in 
 politics with 'em. Well, they're in the boneyard now. 
 'Relse, when they want anything, they come to fellers 
 like me. Ain't that so?" 
 
 " I have reason to believe that's been true." 
 
 And how true! John thought, judging from his 
 narrow experience. Was it possible that the seats of
 
 " Can you stuff 'em in your pocket like this?"
 
 ACROSS THE BORDER 121 
 
 the mighty were reserved only for the Murchells, the 
 Hampdens, the Sheehans? He thought disgustedly 
 of the coarse, brutish thing before him. Yet Shee- 
 han could command his retinue of Jeremys and 
 Maleys ! He looked up suddenly. " Sheehan, who is 
 Butch Maley?" 
 
 " And that's another thing that makes me sore," 
 Sheehan resumed his reproachful air. " You threw 
 Butch down last night and it cost me fifty to square 
 it. That's no way to play politics. Who's Butch 
 Maley? He's the fourth precinct, fourth ward, that's 
 what he is, and it's the biggest precinct in the city. 
 He's the whole works, voters and election board." 
 
 " You mean, he monkeys with the count? " 
 
 " I mean," replied Sheehan significantly, " that 
 when we need a few votes, we can always get 'em 
 from Butch's precinct." 
 
 "I see. I've heard of those precincts. H-m-m! 
 Sheehan, I don't think you're as smart as you think 
 you are." 
 
 The boss observed him suspiciously, but his question 
 was forestalled. 
 
 " Well ! " John brought his feet to the floor and 
 sat upright. " What did you come to teach me? " 
 
 " I come to give you another chance. You can give 
 an interview sayiri' that you was misunderstood, that 
 you're for the state ticket strong and want all your 
 friends to vote for it." 
 
 " Is that an order or a request? " 
 
 " Whichever you please," Sheehan answered shortly. 
 
 "And if I don't do it?" 
 
 " There's a Democrat runnin' for district attorney." 
 
 "Why, Sheehan!" John simulated reproachful
 
 122 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 surprise well. " Surely you wouldn't go back on your 
 party! But I forget, you're the party, aren't you? 
 I suppose Simcox belongs to the party, too." Sim- 
 cox was John's Democratic opponent. " And if I 
 do?" 
 
 " Then you'll win." 
 
 John got leisurely to his feet. His visitor also rose. 
 " Sheehan, you're lying. You'll knife me in any case. 
 Well, I won't do it. So go ahead and beat me if 
 you can." 
 
 "If I can!" The boss spat contemptuously. "Do 
 you think you can do anything without us ? " 
 
 " I don't know. But," John said with an accession 
 of cheerfulness that was not at all bravado, " I'm 
 going to find out. Anyhow, I'd rather be beaten than 
 be beholden to you, you Do you know what you 
 are, Sheehan? You're not smart, you're just greedy 
 and there's been nobody to thwart you. You're just 
 a big bully with a soul as fat as your body. Do you 
 know you're getting awfully fat?" He began prod 
 ding the other, none too gently, about the ribs and 
 stomach. His fingers found only soft, yielding cush 
 ions of fat. 
 
 " Don't get fresh, young feller." But Sheehan drew 
 back, nevertheless. John followed him and continued 
 his inspection. 
 
 " Why don't you take exercise ? I may be pre 
 judiced, but I never saw a fat man yet that was brave. 
 I'll bet a dollar that if you got a good licking you'd 
 whimper like a baby. I'd like to try it. I may do 
 it, too, some of these days. If I'm elected, Sheehan, 
 I'd advise you to buy a passage to Mexico or some 
 place where extradition laws don't hold. You needn't
 
 ACROSS THE BORDER 123 
 
 bother about a round trip ticket, either. I'm probably 
 not showing wisdom in telling you what I'll do if 
 elected, but, as you suggested, I've a lot to learn." 
 
 Sheehan tried to sneer, " Don't get " 
 
 " You said that before," John interposed. Then 
 all his disgust for the man before him found expres 
 sion. "In the meantime, get out!" Sheehan as 
 sumed a blustering air. " It's shorter by the window, 
 but you may prefer the door." 
 
 He seemed to the other just then a very capable 
 young man. The boss, after a moment's inward de 
 bate, chose discretion as the better part of valor. 
 
 John went to the window, threw it open, and watched 
 the bulky figure pass out of sight around the corner. 
 He filled his lungs with the cool, clear autumn air. 
 
 " That's the first easy breath I've drawn since they 
 came to offer me the nomination. I'm free again. 
 And now I've got to make my bluff good. And," he 
 smiled satirically at himself, " I've heard that work 
 is the only cure for love-sickness." 
 
 He lost no time applying the cure. 
 
 The election was a week away. A week is a short 
 time, but in it, if you are a young man not unwilling 
 to lose an occasional night's sleep, a great deal can 
 be accomplished. It would be courting incredulity to 
 record here how many miles John and Lightning trav 
 ersed during the succeeding seven days, how many 
 men were called upon. He had during the months 
 of his candidacy learned something about " organiza 
 tions " ; he now made this knowledge serve his pur 
 pose. 
 
 His journeys took him into Plumville and into 
 every ward thereof, and into the townships. In these
 
 124 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 latter districts he had less need of the diplomat's 
 tongue to win recruits " workers " they were called 
 and well called he found volunteers aplenty, Farm 
 ers Cranshawe and Sykes and Criswell and oth 
 ers, sober, unemotional men who were yet willing to 
 follow in a forlorn hope. On the day before election, 
 faith in his fellows quickened, he moved on New 
 Chelsea. When election day dawned, a beautiful, 
 cloudless day happy omen ! he knew that at every 
 polling-place in the county was one man, at least, work 
 ing in the interest of John Dunmeade, and that most 
 of them would be loyal. 
 
 The Republican state ticket had a narrow escape 
 that autumn; only the two great cities with their 
 machines, their fraud and their supineness saved it. 
 Benton County went Democratic; not entirely, how 
 ever. The Republicans saved one brand from the 
 burning, although a certain faction of the party was 
 not greatly elated over this partial victory. 
 
 State Senator and Boss James Sheehan, election 
 evening, was seen to grin affably as the early returns 
 began to come in from the Plumville wards, showing a 
 comfortable and apparently safe majority for Sim- 
 cox. He laughed outright when he read the result 
 in the fourth precinct, fourth ward. The word from 
 New Chelsea made the grin shrink perceptibly. And 
 by early moring, when the rural townships had re 
 ported, it had disappeared entirely. 
 
 About the same hour a young man, pale, stirred to 
 the depths by a victory he had not believed possible, 
 could not understand, was at his window gazing wor- 
 shipfully up into the sky.
 
 ACROSS THE BORDER 125 
 
 " I have found my place. . . . My people! 
 
 I am willing to pay. . . 
 It was a vow of consecration.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE CRUSADER 
 
 THE court-room in the dingy old court-house was 
 crowded, past the point of mere discomfort. 
 The uncertain May breeze, lazily proffering a bit of 
 relief, was turned back by the screen of those more 
 fortunate spectators who had secured coigns of 
 vantage on the fire-escape outside the open windows. 
 The court-room had filled that morning a full hour 
 before the judge stalked to the bench and the crier 
 began his singsong " Oyez ! Oyez ! " Many, fearing 
 to lose their places at the price of the noonday meal, 
 had been there throughout the day. Certain gentle 
 men from Plumville were present, dejected, anxious 
 of mien; many citizens of New Chelsea, quite 
 aware that their town had acquired a new fame but 
 still somewhat dazed by the rapid unfolding of events 
 of which this was the climax; farmers who had de 
 serted their fields, silent, thoughtful, hopeful. Around 
 a table at the end of the jury-box were blase reporters 
 even from the Steel City. Editor Harvey of the 
 Globe sat there, clad in his long-tailed Sunday coat, 
 a pile of manuscript before him; he had no need to 
 confine his account to telegraphic brevity since he 
 wielded his own blue pencil. 
 
 The voice of the defendant's counsel rose and fell. 
 He was something of an actor and he put a deal of 
 
 126
 
 THE CRUSADER 127 
 
 convincing passion into his words; in New Chelsea 
 oratory is still loved. The audience hung intent, al 
 most breathless, on the scene enacted before them. 
 They had the feeling of being not spectators but par 
 ticipants in the little drama. Perhaps they were, for 
 it was the trial of Jim Sheehan. 
 
 Senator Murchell was not listening to the speech. 
 He sat immediately behind the defendant in the chair 
 that, thanks to the fat, obsequious tipstaff, had been 
 his during the three days of the trial; this, argued 
 his secret enemies, was evidence of his failing astute 
 ness, since his presence identified him with Sheehan's 
 cause. But the senator was not thinking of this. He 
 was intently regarding the set profile across the coun 
 sel-table and measuring the man he saw there against 
 the boyish, eager and very likable young man whom, 
 almost a year before, a little boss and a big had sought 
 to press into their service. John Dunmeade had 
 grown. One saw that in the already grave, almost sad, 
 lines of his face. Work and thought and responsi 
 bility and purpose and something else of which the 
 senator had no inkling had set their stamp upon him. 
 The senator felt that here was one whose latent 
 strength had been revealed to himself and proven to 
 others. " A capable, forceful man," he thought. 
 One who was beginning to realize the gravity of the 
 task of him who sets out to improve this best of all 
 worlds. To the senator in the arrogance born of the 
 habit of power, it did not occur that the man across 
 the table might represent a new force in the field of 
 activity which he had made his own. He studied the 
 set profile searchingly for some evidence of a hidden 
 lack. Or was there a lack?
 
 128 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 There had been no lack of accomplishment during 
 the five months of office-holding. To this truth elo 
 quent witnesses might have been called: Butch Maley 
 and Red Bricker, already serving terms in the peni 
 tentiary; Slayton, a fugitive, bail-forf eited ; Brown 
 and Parsons, free only pending appeal ; and now Shee- 
 han, his fate hanging in the balance. Despite mis 
 takes, despite abuse and temptations, despite the craft 
 of the famous Whittredge, brought at great price from 
 the Steel City, and the frenzied efforts of the Benton 
 County Machine to clog the wheels of justice, John 
 had gone steadily ahead with surprising and growing 
 skill, one step at a time but never swerving from the 
 line of his purpose. Under his feet lay a once very 
 efficient Machine, now shaking with fright, wondering 
 upon whom the next blow of the pursuing Nemesis 
 would fall. The Machine, Senator Murchell knew, 
 would be rebuilt better and stronger than ever, but 
 for the present it was sadly, sadly out of gear. 
 
 He let his glance stray from John to the defendant. 
 Sheehan sat slouched in his chair in an attitude that 
 he vainly sought to render jaunty, confident. His 
 cheeks had fallen in slightly, his eyelids were puffy 
 and red-rimmed. His mouth hung flabbily. His 
 hands played nervously with a piece of paper. Out of 
 his eyes looked a sickening fear. He was drinking 
 in thirstily the words of his counsel, a draught to 
 sustain sinking hope ; evidently a coward badly 
 frightened. The contrast was great. Murchell, with 
 an unfamiliar qualm of disgust, returned to his study 
 of the district attorney. 
 
 Whittredge brought his brilliant peroration to a
 
 THE CRUSADER 129 
 
 close. The audience sighed audibly. A buzz of low- 
 voiced comment arose. 
 
 " Silence! " roared the tipstaff pompously. 
 
 The lawyer took his seat beside the counsel-table. 
 His client turned to him with a look of nervous in 
 quiry. Whittredge shook his head. 
 
 "A chance a bare chance, that's all," he whis 
 pered. " Confound these rubes ! " 
 
 The look of fear, almost ludicrous on the big, fat 
 face, deepened. Sheehan turned supplicatingly to 
 Murchell, as though from that resourceful man help 
 might somehow come. Murchell ignored the look. 
 Sheehan sank back in his chair, his defiant attitude 
 broken. 
 
 The audience relapsed into an expectant silence, all 
 eyes fixed on the district attorney. For a moment 
 he remained as he had sat throughout the plea for 
 the defense, motionless, leaning a little forward and 
 staring fixedly at the wall behind the judge, as though 
 he saw a vision. Murchell wondered if he had heard, 
 a word of Whittredge's speech. 
 
 The moment ended. He rose and stood before the. 
 jury-box, first addressing the court. He smiled 
 gravely at the jurors. It had taken a whole day's ses 
 sion to select them, but he knew them and that they 
 were well chosen. Then the smile faded from his 
 lips and eyes, replaced by a look to which his neigh 
 bors were growing accustomed. He began to speak. 
 
 " Gentlemen of the jury, what I have to do is not 
 pleasant. But there is a thing called duty. . . ." 
 
 As the first words fell, Murchell's interest leaped ; 
 he knew that he was seeing a man mount to a cli-
 
 130 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 max in his life. From the beginning the audience was 
 caught in the man's spell, by something that breathed 
 through his voice and that had been absent from 
 Whittredge's perfervid periods. He had a clear, flexi 
 ble voice and knew how to use it, but it was not his 
 oratory that wove the spell. His speech represented 
 much thought and preparation, yet there was in it 
 nothing theatric, nothing insincere. He spoke simply, 
 without rhetorical flourish, but with a restrained pas 
 sion to which his hearers, vaguely wondering but un 
 resisting, yielded. They soon ceased to wonder, for 
 he had that gift of the true orator, the ability to make 
 his listeners forget the speaker in what he said. 
 
 The speech had been skilfully planned. At first he 
 confined his argument to the jury and the case at 
 bar. Logically he marshaled the evidence against the 
 defendant and analyzed the defense. Then, when he 
 felt that he had brought intellectual conviction to all, 
 be began to direct his words at the audience, not for 
 the telepathic effect on the jury but because he be 
 lieved a verdict of guilty would be worthless unless it 
 aroused a common horror for the crime. He painted 
 it in livid outline; he made them see it through his 
 eyes. It ceased to be merely technical, assumed a 
 moral significance, became a treachery, a blow against 
 the vital institution of government; it meant political 
 retrogression, anarchy, government not by the social 
 body but by dishonest individual craft. 
 
 Never afterward, in a speech, did John reach quite 
 the same heights as on the afternoon when the bright 
 blade of his young indignation cut into the consciences 
 of his hearers. The matter became deeply personal 
 with them. Each man suddenly felt himself ag-
 
 THE CRUSADER 131 
 
 grieved, felt that a shameful attempt had been made 
 to take advantage of his good faith and trust. And 
 then, even while they were condemning Sheehan, John 
 seemed to arraign them. He set them to asking the 
 question, What part have I in this crime? Such of 
 fenses are possible only among a people asleep, whose 
 conscience is inactive, who have ceased to care for the 
 honesty of their institutions. They were both ag 
 grieved and aggressors. . . 
 
 . . . Senator Murchell sat to all outward seem 
 ing impassive. He listened, as astonished as the rest, 
 but with understanding and he was himself amazed 
 to mark it sadly. For he read in the ardent face 
 and words a passion for a hopeless ideal. He felt 
 a genuine pity for the young man whom despite his 
 apostesy he still liked and would have been glad to 
 spare even, since this revelation of power, to lift 
 into high places but who had, he believed, with 
 the reckless, impractical chivalry of dreamers of all 
 times, given himself to a forlorn cause. He saw 
 whither John's argument led. He thought he saw, 
 too, what must come afterward when the young 
 dreamer, rapt eyes fixed on an ideal too tenuous, 
 too distant to be realized, encountered the skepticism 
 and unresponsiveness of a practical, workaday world. 
 So much power, he thought, going to waste! For 
 he knew, better than did those who possessed it, the 
 power of moral passion controlled but always 
 properly controlled ! Was there not some way to bind 
 this force to his interest? 
 
 John came to the end of his argument. There was 
 no reason to believe Sheehan's crime unique. The 
 nonchalant, matter-of-fact manner in which it had
 
 132 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 been committed, the genuine indignation aroused in 
 certain quarters by the prosecution, indicated that it 
 was an established practice of the organization that 
 profited by the crime. And indeed bribery at the 
 polls, falsification of election returns were familiar 
 weapons of Machine politics, so long used that they 
 had ceased to arouse horror and revolt in the care 
 less, calloused hearts of the people. They explained 
 the continuance of the Machine in power. They shed 
 a bright light, too, on the so-called genius of certain 
 political leaders at which men marveled as at some 
 miraculous manifestation of godlike mind it was 
 not genius, merely crude, primitive dishonesty requir 
 ing the direction of no commanding intellect, needing 
 nothing but the will to debauch others' honor. 
 
 The senator, grim veteran as he was of a hundred 
 battles with just such " unpractical dreamers," caught 
 himself wincing under the scornful thrusts. Never 
 before had he been told that his power and the means 
 of its attainment were not the splendid badge 
 of unusual strength but the booty of contemptible 
 craft. 
 
 " You have been told," cried the young orator, " that 
 this is a case of my ambition seeking a sacrifice. I and 
 my ambition have nothing to do with it. Neither has 
 the defendant, save that his safety and silence mean 
 the safety of those guiltier men whose tool he is. 
 This is a case of the greedy horde that, hungry for 
 our dollars, steals or corruptly buys the power which 
 honest men can not be duped into giving, against those 
 upon whom they prey. It is a case of the organiza 
 tion, parading under the name of a great party, for a 
 purpose whose reach we can not yet measure, against
 
 THE CRUSADER 133 
 
 the people. It is the case " He paused sharply, to 
 look squarely at Senator Murchell. All eyes followed 
 his. " It is the case of government by individual craft 
 and greed against government by the law that is the 
 expression of the moral sense of the people." 
 
 He sat down. The audience stirred uneasily. 
 Murchell smiled grimly. 
 
 " Splendid daring! " Whittredge whispered to Mur 
 chell. " A magnificent actor." 
 
 " That," said Murchell, " is not acting. He means 
 it." 
 
 " In our day ! " Whittredge raised his eyebrows 
 skeptically. " We've lost but he risked a good deal 
 by bringing in extraneous matter." 
 
 " It isn't extraneous matter," Murchell answered 
 dryly. " He isn't thinking of this case." 
 
 " You know him better than I do, of course. I 
 fancy, judging from the surprise depicted on the faces 
 of our bucolic friends, that we've brought out an un 
 expected Jack Cade in these trials. I fancy you'll find 
 him difficult for a while. I'm rather sorry for 
 him. I," the famous lawyer smiled, " I was that sort 
 myself once." 
 
 The voice of the judge, cold and even, devoid of 
 emotion, as he began to instruct the jury, broke 
 the tension. Critical listeners observed that his 
 charge favored the defendant rather more strongly 
 than the evidence seemed to require. They at 
 tributed it to his anxiety not to be biased by the 
 fact that the district attorney was his son ; Judge Dun- 
 meade was said to possess an admirably judicial tem 
 perament. The jury, importantly led by the fat bailiff, 
 filed out of the court-room. There were no other
 
 134 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 cases on the day's list and the judge stalked down 
 from the bench to await the verdict in his chambers. 
 John went to his office. Senator Murchell and 
 Whittredge conducted the drooping Sheehan to the 
 witness-room away from the curious eyes of the 
 crowd. A buzz of excited conversation rose, unre- 
 buked by the tipstaff. Most of the spectators waited 
 to see the end of the drama. 
 
 A half hour later the buzz of conversation suddenly 
 ceased. The judge was returning to the bench. 
 Sheehan with Whittredge and Murchell took their seats 
 by the table. They were followed by John. Then 
 the jury filed back into the box. The room became 
 absolutely still; the atmosphere suddenly funereal, 
 painful. Sheehan leaned forward nervously, half 
 raising himself from his chair. 
 
 The foreman gave a paper to the bailiff, who handed 
 it to the clerk. He glanced at it eagerly ; then his face 
 became very solemn. He passed the verdict on to 
 the judge, who looked at it coldly and returned it. 
 The clerk faced the jurors. 
 
 "Gentlemen of the jury, harken to your verdict as 
 the court hath recorded it. You find the defendant 
 guilty as indicted. And so say you all ?" 
 
 The jurors nodded. Sheehan fell back in his chair 
 with an audible groan. Two big tears coursed ludi 
 crously down his fat cheeks. But nobody laughed. 
 He plucked anxiously at Murchell's sleeve. 
 
 "Have I got to go to jail?" he whimpered. 
 
 Murchell drew away from the touch. "Not unless 
 our friend Whittredge has forgotten how to delay 
 justice."
 
 THE CRUSADER 135 
 
 At the word Sheehan's face was twisted into an 
 ugly sneer. 
 
 "Justice!" he whispered bitterly. His clutch on 
 Murchell's arm tightened. " You got to get me out 
 of this, see? " 
 
 Murchell looked at him without answer. Some 
 thing in the glance made Sheehan cower back sullenly 
 in his chair. 
 
 The jury was discharged. Whittredge informed 
 the court that the defense would move for a new trial, 
 bail was renewed, and the court was adjourned. The 
 audience slowly made its way out into the Square, 
 where little knots of noisy, excited men gathered. 
 
 Whittredge stepped up to John, holding out his hand. 
 " I congratulate you," he smiled genially. " You took 
 exactly the right tack." John quickly disengaged his 
 hand; he felt that the congratulation was in poor 
 taste. 
 
 He saw Sheehan standing forlornly by the table. 
 The big, ponderous figure with the misery shining out 
 of its eyes seemed very pathetic. And, after all, Shee 
 han was the worst victim of the system. Impulsively 
 John went over to him. 
 
 " Sheehan," he said, " I'm sorry. I I don't like 
 to hurt any one." 
 
 The convicted man eyed him in almost childlike re 
 proach. " After all I've done for you ! " Whittredge 
 stroked his mustache to conceal a broad smile. Shee 
 han suddenly seized one of John's hands in both his 
 own. " Johnny, can't you get me out of this let me 
 off? I'll get out of here never go into politics again, 
 so help me ! "
 
 136 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 John's heart gave him a wrench as he shook his 
 head. " I wish I could, Sheehan," he replied hon 
 estly. " But you're out of my hands now." 
 
 He turned away sadly, no sense of triumph in his 
 victory. He caught up his hat and went slowly out 
 of the court-room, unaware that Murchell was follow 
 ing him. 
 
 When he appeared at the door of the court-house 
 some one raised a cheer. It passed along from group 
 to group, until all in the Square had joined in a short, 
 sharp salute. It was not an hysterical demonstration, 
 but unusual for calm, self-contained New Chelsea. It 
 lasted only a few seconds. 
 
 John, startled, deeply moved by this the first cheer 
 that he had earned and received campaign salutes 
 did not count shrank back from the doorway : to 
 face Murchell. Not until later did John realize the 
 kindly quality of the smile on the older man's face; 
 when he did, he was puzzled by it. He had not ex 
 pected magnanimity from the big politician whom he 
 had chosen to attack. 
 
 " Young man," said the senator, " enjoy this mo 
 ment. It won't last long. You are at your apex 
 you are a hero among your neighbors." 
 
 John's face reflected the tumult of feeling within 
 him. " Ah ! they are good people ! " he cried, more 
 to himself than to Murchell. " They pay in advance 
 what I have yet to earn." 
 
 Murchell laughed cynically. " You won't earn what 
 you think you will. They won't let you. They are 
 cheering you, not what you said." 
 
 " Not me, but what I said. They see a principle." 
 
 " You're not the first man who has held that de-
 
 THE CRUSADER 137 
 
 lusion to his sorrow. But I won't spoil your tri 
 umph by croaking even though," he smiled again, 
 " even though you find me such a crook." 
 
 He passed on out into the Square. There was no 
 cheer.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 CRITICISMS AND WILES 
 
 SENATOR MURCHELL paused for an instant on 
 the court-house steps, surveying the garrulous, 
 excited groups scattered over the Square. A faint 
 twinkle came into his eyes as he perceived the hostile 
 glances cast toward him. The twinkle was kindlier 
 than one might have expected. People said that he 
 maintained his legal residence in New Chelsea only 
 because an unwritten law required each end of the 
 state to be represented in the senate, and the vacancy 
 which he had been elected to fill had been from the 
 western district. This was only half a truth. He 
 really liked these men and women among whom his 
 youth had been spent, who looked upon him half fa 
 miliarly, half in awe, and who, until the late uprising 
 and the advent of John Dunmeade, had followed un- 
 questioningly his political gospel. Most of the time 
 he spent, from the exigencies of his position, in Wash 
 ington or in the big house in Adelphia; but as he 
 grew older he came to look forward more and more 
 eagerly to the summer months that supported his 
 " legal residence." That his neighbors had turned 
 aside after other gods did not lessen his liking; he 
 tolerantly, somewhat cynically, believed that they 
 w r ould soon return to their old faith. 
 
 Another mistake which diagnosticians of the man 
 138
 
 CRITICISMS AND WILES 139 
 
 often made was in saying that he dissembled when he 
 showed friendliness to his opponents. Politics he kept 
 a rigidly impersonal matter; he was able genuinely to 
 like many men who fought him. Dislikes and hates 
 he had in abundance, but they did not arise from the 
 bare circumstance of opposition. On the other hand, 
 he never confused friendship with policy. 
 
 He looked, hesitating, toward the old colonial house 
 across the street. Then he started toward it. Must 
 the habit of a lifetime be broken merely because a son 
 of that house had leveled a lance against him? And, 
 besides, there was a small matter of business to trans 
 act. He perceived the figure of an old woman on a 
 bench under the trees, darning industriously, and he 
 smiled, at first in amusement. Then the smile became 
 gentler. After all, there was something pathetic in 
 the sight of an old lady who had given her life to 
 " doing for " a pompous, opinionated old soldier and 
 a stubborn young dreamer. 
 
 She looked up as he approached. He held out his 
 hand. " Good afternoon, Miss Roberta." 
 
 " Good afternoon, Will Murchell." She continued 
 her darning. " I'll not shake hands," she answered 
 his gesture calmly. " I don't think I'll ever shake 
 hands with you again." 
 
 "And why?" The senator always enjoyed their 
 tilts. 
 
 " John says you're a dangerous man. John is 
 right."_ 
 
 " I inferred from his speech," he answered with a 
 twinkle, " that he held some such opinion. Were you 
 at the trial ? " 
 
 " I was not ! You may sit down," she commanded,
 
 140 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 making room for him," because I want to ask you a 
 question." He obeyed. " What have you been doing 
 to Hugh and our John ? " 
 
 " You think I've been doing something? " 
 
 " Don't evade ! Aren't you always at the bottom of 
 some mischief? This house has been like a funeral 
 ever since these trials began. Hugh has been as 
 grumpy as as a dog with a boil. And John he 
 doesn't say much, but he feels it. It's this politics! 
 I wish," she concluded vengefully, " a plague'd carry 
 off all you politicians." 
 
 " But, Roberta, who'd run the country ? " 
 
 Miss Roberta sniffed. " I guess the country could 
 run itself better than you politicians do." 
 
 " You know something of politicians, then? " 
 
 " Don't take that amused tone with me, Will Mur- 
 chell! I know more than you think. I've watched 
 you. All you politicians are hard and cruel and self 
 ish. I wonder you trust each other ! " 
 
 " We don't ! " he laughed. Then he became 
 thoughtful. " H-m-m ! So there's coolness between 
 the judge and John, eh? " 
 
 " Don't you know it? I suppose," she discontinued 
 her darning long enough to look at him angrily, " I 
 suppose you're wondering how you can turn it to your 
 advantage. What have you done to them ? " 
 
 " My dear Roberta," he protested humorously, " I 
 decline to assume responsibility for all the ills in the 
 world. I'm willing to leave something to the Al 
 mighty. I suppose they've fallen out over the trials. 
 Naturally! John is just a hot-headed idealist, while 
 the judge is a practical man." 
 
 " A practical man! " she sniffed tartly. "If you'd
 
 CRITICISMS AND WILES 141 
 
 been doing for the judge for nearly thirty years, you 
 wouldn't call him that, I guess. Why, he even be 
 lieves that you're going to put him in the supreme 
 court." 
 
 "And you don't?" 
 
 "Of course not ! I tell him so, but he won't be 
 lieve me. He's so puffed up with his own importance 
 and selfishness, he won't listen to sense and tries to 
 make his son's life miserable. But I guess," she 
 added, " that's what you mean by ' a practical man.' ' 
 
 " I am a practical man." 
 
 " You are. That's been your trouble all your life. 
 And by that you mean you've let nothing honor, 
 kindness stand between you and what you want. 
 Aren't you satisfied yet? Haven't you got all you 
 want?" 
 
 " Why, no, Roberta," Murchell answered. " I hope 
 not," he added slowly. " Once a man has all he 
 wants, life is emptied for him." 
 
 " Then you've paid for more than you've gotten." 
 
 " I didn't know you were a philosopher." He 
 looked his surprise. He paused, then asked abruptly, 
 " Is it because I'm a politician you've always disliked 
 me, Roberta? " 
 
 She looked at him suspiciously. Then, seeing that 
 he was in earnest, she answered, " Because I found 
 you out long ago. You've never given the good man 
 Murchell a chance." 
 
 " I'm glad you think there is a good man Mur 
 chell." 
 
 " There was such a man. He starved to death." 
 
 " Roberta," he smiled wryly, " your powers of 
 divination are truly marvelous."
 
 142 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 He stared reflectively out over the sleepy, quaint old 
 Square, with its trees and flag-pole and out-of-date 
 cannon and shabby court-house: peaceful scene of the 
 late battle. The battle, he knew as others did not 
 know, had been but an opening skirmish in the greater 
 campaign that was in many quarters being prepared 
 against him. ... It suddenly struck him as a 
 jest a grim, mirthless jest that he, an old man, 
 should still be fighting for his power. It did not 
 strike him as humorous that he, the great politician, 
 the powerful senator, should be sitting there under the 
 chestnut tree, taking a scolding from an old woman 
 whom the tide of life had tossed aside to wither on 
 the beach of this tiny, obscure cove. 
 
 " Roberta," he said abruptly, " try to keep John out 
 of politics." 
 
 " Because he is fighting you? " 
 
 " That," he said sententiously, " might be a suffi 
 cient reason. But I'm not thinking of that. It isn't 
 the game for a man of his sort." 
 
 " You didn't think of that when you believed you 
 could use him." 
 
 She sighed. " I wish I could keep him out. But 
 we Dunmeades are set in our opinions. He'll go on 
 fighting, now he's started, until he breaks himself 
 against your hardness or becomes like you." 
 
 " I guess you're right. You Dunmeades have al 
 ways been a good fighting breed. But don't you 
 think," he queried mildly, " you could have a little 
 charity for a harassed old man fighting for his life? " 
 
 " Old man ! " She dismissed with another sniff 
 this appeal to sympathy. " Old man, what are you 
 going to do to John ? "
 
 CRITICISMS AND WILES 143 
 
 " A more pertinent question," he grunted, " just 
 now is, what is John going to do to me ? " 
 
 He got up abruptly and went into the house. In 
 the library he found Judge Dunmeade before his desk, 
 scratching away at an opinion. With that heavy dig 
 nity which he imparted even to the smallest actions 
 of life the judge waved Murchell to a seat. Most 
 people, in the presence of this dignity, immediately be 
 came conscious of their inferiority. It did not so 
 affect the present guest. The judge's pen was care 
 fully wiped and laid down. 
 
 "Well, Judge?" 
 
 "Well, Senator?" 
 
 " That son of yours gave us something of a sur 
 prise to-day." 
 
 " He is a good trial lawyer," the judge answered 
 colorlessly. 
 
 " Looks as though Sheehan would have to go over 
 the road. Unless," Murchell added inquiringly, 
 " there's a chance to win on appeal ? " 
 
 " No. John tried his case carefully. There were 
 no errors." 
 
 " At least, that the defense can take advantage of," 
 Murchell completed the sentence. The point, how 
 ever, was lost on the judge. " Whittredge agrees with 
 us on this. Er about what ought to be the sentence, 
 do you think? " 
 
 It would not be correct to say that the judge as 
 sumed a judicial air; that, consciously, he always wore. 
 It merely became heavier. 
 
 " It is a matter for some thought." He paused 
 contemplatively. "What should you suggest?" 
 
 Murchell made a slight motion with his hand to
 
 144 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 indicate that any suggestion from him was a negligible 
 matter. And answered, " Would four months be too 
 much?" 
 
 " H-m-m ! One must remember, of course, that 
 four months for Sheehan would be a heavier sentence 
 than a year for another." The judge cleared his 
 throat. " I'll take it under consideration." 
 
 ' Yes, some men like the penitentiary better than 
 others do," Murchell agreed soberly. " But think it 
 over think it over, Hugh. I suspect Sheehan will 
 chafe against being lodged at the public expense. Too 
 bad, I suppose John would suggest, we can't devise 
 some penalty that would break the monotony of his ex 
 istence," he smiled. 
 
 " I should imagine, however, he would almost pre 
 fer working for a living in this case." The judicial 
 smile was impressive. 
 
 " O, Sheehan has always worked hard. All poli 
 ticians do. The same time and effort spent in some 
 other lines would be more profitable. The emolu 
 ments of politics are a little money sometimes ; a 
 few fair-weather friends and many enemies, some un 
 pleasant notoriety, a modicum of uncertain power 
 and in the end very few politicians die in power, 
 Hugh." 
 
 The judge smiled skeptically. " A strange saying 
 on your lips, William ! " 
 
 The senator made no immediate answer. A queer 
 smile softening the lines of his mouth, he sat staring 
 at the portrait of Thomas Dunmeade. " John," he 
 said at last, " made a good speech, eh, Judge ? " 
 
 " The elocution was good," was the carefully con 
 sidered answer.
 
 CRITICISMS AND WILES 145 
 
 " Don't seem very proud of your son." 
 
 " I am not To think that a Dunmeade should 
 voice such rabid radicalism, such wild sentimentali 
 ties!" 
 
 " No one will blame you for inspiring it." 
 
 "I should hope not!" the judge exclaimed virtu 
 ously. " After more than sixty years of respectable, 
 conservative living." 
 
 There was a trace of anxiety in his next words. 
 " John's course will not affect the matter we discussed 
 last winter, will it?" 
 
 " You mean the justiceship? Afraid the scriptural 
 order will be reversed and the sins of the sons visited 
 on the heads of the fathers, eh? Have you consid 
 ered that I may not be able to land that ? My influ 
 ence in the organization is a little uncertain just at 
 present. These trials haven't helped, either." 
 
 " I have that also against my son," the judge said 
 angrily. " He has made it more difficult for his father 
 to realize a lifelong ambition. Besides," he added, 
 " attacking my best friend." 
 
 "Yes," Murchell assented. "Don't forget that. 
 Didn't tell John of your ambition, did you? " 
 
 " Not that it has been definitely discussed. But he 
 knows that I have always looked forward to ending 
 my work on the supreme bench of the state. But it 
 would have made no difference," he said bitterly. 
 " He has no filial affection, it seems, no sense of grati 
 tude for the advantages I have given him. He is too 
 selfish and set in his opinions to consider his father's 
 interest. He doesn't get it from me. He is," the 
 judge concluded, " his mother's son." 
 
 The senator did not smile. " His mother's son ! "
 
 "146 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 He was not a sentimental man. He did not read 
 novels or poetry and he did not believe that love could 
 reach from young manhood to age, especially when 
 the loved one had been long dead. Reasoning from 
 his own experience, he was correct. He did not " love 
 the memory " of Anne Dunmeade nor indulge in 
 sweetly sad retrospection. He thought of her now 
 merely as marking one stage of his develop 
 ment. He remembered her as a gentle yet high- 
 spirited thing full of ardent enthusiasms and with 
 an unshakable belief it struck him now as al 
 most pathetic in the goodness of her fellows 
 and the ultimate triumph of " the right." There 
 must have been, he thought, unsuspected possibilities 
 possibilities that had not been realized in him, 
 since he could love this woman. He was far from 
 ready to admit that their realization would have been 
 profitable. 
 
 He looked again at the portrait of the founder of 
 New Chelsea, whose hard, arrogant face the forgotten 
 artist had not tried to soften. Then he looked at the 
 likeness of Robert; one had to look more closely here 
 to discern in the smooth, priestlike countenance the 
 crafty insincerity that could embrace and profit by a 
 great moral propaganda when triumph was in sight. 
 Then he turned to the present head of the house of 
 Dunmeade, the cold presentment of complacent re 
 spectability. 
 
 " His mother's son ! I guess that explains him." 
 He rose. " About that justiceship I'll see what can 
 be done. But I promise nothing definitely so far 
 ahead. You understand that ?" 
 
 " Certainly," the judge assented. " But I expect
 
 CRITICISMS AND WILES 147 
 
 you to do your best. I feel," he added with dignity, 
 " that my services to my country and to my party war 
 rant my expectation. And I ought to draw the old 
 soldier vote to the ticket." 
 
 " And, Judge," Murchell concluded, " think over 
 the Sheehan sentence think it over." He went out 
 of the room. 
 
 He was decidedly relieved to find Miss Roberta 
 gone from her bench under the chestnut tree. 
 
 On the next Saturday morning James Sheehan, 
 found guilty of conspiracy to falsify election returns, 
 was summoned to bar and sentenced to four months' 
 " hard labor " in the county workhouse. But before 
 the appeal which he took had been refused by the 
 higher court, he had left Benton County for parts un 
 known.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE PICKET 
 
 JOHN sought refuge in the cubbyhole that Benton 
 County provides for its district attorneys. With 
 a sense of relief he filed away his notes on the Shee- 
 han case in a cabinet marked " Finished Business." 
 Then he threw himself into a chair and began to take 
 stock. . . . 
 
 Sheehan's eyes haunted him. John was a normal 
 young man and he was capable of knowing the 
 joy of a task well done. But not this sort of 
 task! He could find no elation in a triumph won at 
 the cost of direct personal misery to others. There 
 was Slayton, for example : a handsome, pleasant young 
 man who looked the criminal not at all. He had not 
 had the courage to stand trial and he had broken bail 
 and fled, leaving behind a sick wife. She and the 
 child born since the father's flight now lay together 
 in a grave. Slayton had not dared to return; per 
 haps he did not even know of the double tragedy. In 
 his dreams John often saw Slayton's hunted face as it 
 must now appear. Thus early in his career John was 
 learning the lesson that he who sets out to reform the 
 world must keep his heart stern within him. But he 
 was glad to believe that the next stage would be less 
 sanguinary. 
 
 The next stage ! During the trials a time too full 
 148
 
 THE PICKET 149 
 
 of action for investigation of the future they had 
 seemed the beginning and the end of his task. Now 
 the task was done. So many rascals were suffering 
 or soon would be sent into imprisonment. A ma 
 chine no, one comparatively unimportant part of a 
 machine was badly shaken. What then? Of what 
 use this punishment and destruction unless some one 
 provided something better in its stead ? Some one ! 
 
 He became conscious that his head was aching, that 
 he was tired all over, every nerve in his body throb 
 bing. For more than six months, ever since his elec 
 tion, he had been working incessantly, feverishly to 
 ward this day. The release from strain allowed his 
 maltreated, protesting body to be heard. He got up 
 and left the office, as though fleeing from the prob 
 lem. 
 
 He laid a roundabout course away from Main 
 Street, out into the country. He tramped de 
 terminedly along the pike, rilling his lungs with the 
 tonic air. It had been a good " growing season." 
 His way took him between fields of clean young corn 
 and barley and oats and occasional cool, green wood- 
 lots. The face of the land was instinct with life 
 riotous, superabundant, thrilling life. He shut the 
 gates of his mind on all serious questions and let him 
 self bathe in the beauty around him. . . 
 
 A farmer, driving a pair of heavy farm horses 
 doing duty at the tongue of a squeaky spring-wagon, 
 rattled up behind him. 
 
 "Howdy, Johnny! Want a lift?" 
 
 " Howdy, 'Ri ! No, thank you. Just taking a little 
 exercise and soaking in all this." 
 
 Cranshawe reined in his team. John stopped.
 
 150 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 " The country ? 'Tis kind o' purty, ain't it, come 
 to think of it! Though I guess, if ye had to grub 
 away in it, year in an' year out, fer a livin', ye 
 wouldn't see it so quick. When I'm huntin' excite 
 ment, I go to see some young feller kickin' up his 
 heels at the machine. Little mite too smart fer 'em 
 to-day, weren't ye ? " 
 
 " They had been so bold, they made it easier." 
 
 Cranshawe nodded. " Be smarter next time, I 
 reckon 'f we give 'em a chanct. 'F we give 'em a 
 chanct," he repeated reflectively. " Us farmers, we're 
 feelin' purty good about these trials. Feel like we 
 didn't make any mistake last fall. I've b'en talkin' 
 to a good many of 'em lately. We b'lieve we got 
 somebody to tie to. We ain't had anybody like that 
 hereabouts since the war." Cranshawe smiled kindly 
 down on John. 
 
 " Murchell says they'll forget," John smiled back. 
 
 " Be'n at ye a'ready, has he?" Cranshawe asked 
 shrewdly. " He'll be at ye harder, before ye're 
 through. Ye got 'em scared. Mebby we'll fergit an' 
 then mebby we won't. But I guess that's our look 
 out, not yours. So fur's ye're concerned, all ye got 
 to do is go ahead an' try to finish up the job ye've 
 started. 'F we don't do our part, I guess we won't 
 have nobody to blame but ourselves." 
 
 " The question is, am I big enough for the job? " 
 
 " No, that ain't the question," Cranshawe contra 
 dicted quickly. " Because that can't be answered, till 
 ye've tried. The question is, are ye goin' to be scared 
 out by a job because it's big, or are ye goin' to keep 
 up what ye've started? 'F ye don't, there ain't any-
 
 THE PICKET 151 
 
 body else to do it. An' we'll soon be back where we 
 started." 
 
 John did not reply. He looked thoughtfully over 
 the oat-field beside them, which was waving and toss 
 ing in the breeze like a green lake ruffled by the storm. 
 Cranshawe looked at the troubled face, shrewdly es 
 timating what lay behind it. 
 
 " That's the way things was meant to be, I expect 
 every feller 'tend to his own part an' do the thing that 
 comes next. 'F he does the best he can, I guess we 
 can't ask any more." 
 
 John nodded slowly. Cranshawe did not pursue 
 the point. 
 
 " I see Steve Hampden's back," he remarked casu 
 ally. " That girl o' his was at the trial. Came in 
 late an' had to stand by the door where I was standin'. 
 She was with some young city feller. Seen her at 
 the rally last fall, too. She seems," he grinned quiz 
 zically, " to take consider'ble intrust in ye." 
 
 John became aware of a slight disturbance in the 
 cardiac region, but with an effort he achieved an an 
 swering grin. " It isn't to be taken very seriously, 
 though." 
 
 " I expect not," 'Ri agreed, still grinning. " Well, 
 since I can't spell ye, I'll be movin'. Comin' out 
 hayin' time? We'll give ye plenty of exercise, if 
 that's what ye're needin'. So long! " He clucked to 
 the horses and the wagon resumed its leisurely, squeak 
 ing journey. He clucked again and the team broke 
 into a heavy trot. Soon he was out of sight around 
 a turn in the road. 
 
 John swung rapidly along for an hour, until the
 
 152 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 sweat oozed from every pore of his body. Then he 
 threw himself tinder a tree by the roadside. The 
 breeze, filtered clean through fifty leagues of cedar 
 and pine, fanned his hot, damp face and filled his 
 lungs. Already his nerves, steadied and rested by 
 play of muscle, were resuming their wonted healthy 
 tone. 
 
 He pondered his problem. Yet he knew that it was 
 answered, not by 'Ri Cranshawe's homely wisdom, 
 but by the inscrutable purpose of the Force which had 
 impelled him into the fight. He could not withdraw 
 from the task to which he had been set. Whither? 
 was a question that he needed not to answer, so long 
 as a straight piece of road lay ahead. . . . There 
 was less of the crusader's fire than when, in the Oc 
 tober moonlight, he had taken his first resolve. He 
 knew more of the complexity of the task, of the 
 strength required of him who would perform it, of 
 the insidious, far-reaching power exercised by Mur- 
 chell. Being young, his knowledge still incomplete, 
 he thought in terms of persons, not of systems. He 
 thought sadly of his father's displeasure. . . . 
 And he thought of Katherine, whom, it appeared, the 
 winter had not taught to forget him. He had not 
 learned to forget. Work could dull, it could not 
 wholly stifle, the longing for her. And yet he had 
 not been unhappy. . . . He knew that he could 
 not say no to that which was calling him into service. 
 
 He walked home through the calm of sundown. 
 Once he halted, listening intently. The leaves on the 
 trees hung motionless, but from the earth came a 
 faint, indistinct murmur the voice of the growing 
 things. While the petty creature man scrambled and
 
 THE PICKET 153 
 
 battled for what she brought forth, Nature worked on 
 serene, immutable, producing the eternal Force. 
 He thrilled, as though he heard a prophecy. 
 
 This time he did not avoid Main Street. At the 
 corner where stands the Farmers' Bank he met War 
 ren Blake and a companion. Warren stopped him to 
 introduce the stranger, Haig, a lanky, cadaverous in 
 dividual who, as the introduction developed, was the 
 author of a much criticized novel, The Brethren. 
 
 John acknowledged his hearty greeting. " I have 
 read your book, Mr. Haig with interest," he said 
 politely but cautiously. 
 
 Haig grinned genially. " Great Scott ! You don't 
 think I expect you to say you like it, do you? No 
 body likes it. What would be the use of writing a 
 novel, if people liked it?" 
 
 " I don't know, I'm sure so long as people buy 
 it," John ventured, liking the man. 
 
 " Precisely ! " Haig drawled. " I heard you twist 
 ing Murchell's tail this afternoon. If you don't mind, 
 I'd like to congratulate you on your nerve. I've 
 been wondering whether you are merely a brave man 
 or a specimen of that splendid genus, the fool. Brother 
 Blake inclines to the latter notion." 
 
 " Yes, Warren would," John smiled. 
 
 " I do," said Warren solemnly. " I don't believe in 
 agitation. It hurts business and the agitator." 
 
 " Warren," John laughed, " will undoubtedly be 
 come a pillar of the state he has no sense of hu 
 mor." 
 
 " No, I'm not a joker," Warren answered. " And 
 you'll find it no joke to attack the Republican party as 
 you did to-day. You might as well turn Democrat."
 
 154 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 " Or a mugwump ? Which is even worse. In New 
 Chelsea, Mr. Haig, we daily offer thanks for prosperity, 
 good weather and the Republican party. We're a re 
 ligious community. Our only doubt is whether Provi 
 dence is Republican or the Republican party Provi 
 dence." 
 
 " You oughtn't to be irreverent," Warren reproved. 
 " They voted for you." 
 
 " I'm in some doubt," John mused, " at what my 
 irreverence is supposed to be aimed." 
 
 " Neither the works of Providence nor the Repub 
 lican party is matter for levity, I suppose." Haig's 
 ready grin broadened, as he placed a hand on War 
 ren's shoulder. " Here, Mr. Dunmeade, but for the 
 grace of God, stand I. My people wanted to make 
 me a banker." Warren merely blinked good-naturedly 
 at the familiarity. 
 
 " A dollar, Mr. Haig," John put in, " held close 
 enough to the eye, will hide the rest of creation." 
 
 Haig chuckled. " Now that's good. That's very 
 good. Wish I could have thought of it. Do you 
 subscribe, Brother Blake ? " 
 
 " I do," said Warren unexpectedly. " What do 
 you do with your royalties ? " 
 
 The chuckle became a roar. " Do you get that, Mr. 
 Dunmeade ? Right where I live ! " 
 
 " Good for New Chelsea's pride ! " John laughed. 
 " As we put it in New Chelsea, are you leaving soon, 
 Mr. Haig?" 
 
 rt Lord ! no. I'm here for my health. Doctor told 
 me I'd been working too hard or not hard enough 
 I forget which and that I needed fresh air for my
 
 THE PICKET 155 
 
 liver. So I trailed up here after the Hampdens 
 where, by the way, Brother Blake and I are dining 
 this evening." 
 
 " Yes, and we'd better start," Warren suggested 
 patiently. 
 
 " Ah ! these fiery lovers ! Come around and see me, 
 Mr. Dunmeade. That damn doctor has interdicted 
 tobacco, but I've brought along a brand I can recom 
 mend." 
 
 John promised to come around, and they parted. 
 
 He reached home to be soundly scolded by Miss 
 Roberta for his tardiness at supper. None the less 
 faithfully, however, did she minister to the needs of 
 his physical man, when he had returned from his tub 
 bing, clad in fresh, cool-looking flannels. Miss 
 Roberta, who would not have admitted it to him, took 
 a secret pride in his attractiveness; she probably ex 
 aggerated it. 
 
 After supper he strolled into the library. He was 
 feeling rather at a loss in his idleness ; not for months 
 had he had an evening free from work. And he was a 
 bit lonesome; he could not help thinking of the two 
 young men dining at the Hampdens. The judge was 
 reading by the desk, the light from the lamp throwing 
 his cold, heavy features into sharp relief. He looked 
 up inhospitably, as John entered. 
 
 "Busy, Judge?" John generally called him 
 " Judge," feeling not without reason that his father 
 took more pride in his office than in his paternity. Of 
 late he had had especial reason for this belief. 
 
 " Not too busy if you have anything of impor 
 tance to discuss."
 
 156 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 " O, no. Just dropped in for a little gossip. I 
 won't disturb you." John turned to leave the room, 
 but his departure was arrested by the judge's reply. 
 
 " I suppose you expect me to pat you on the back 
 because you've sent another man on the road to 
 prison?" One might have called his expression a 
 sneer, had the word been compatible with the judicial 
 dignity. 
 
 " Is this a congratulation, Judge ? " 
 
 " It is not. I do not regard your course as matter 
 for congratulation." 
 
 " I have felt that you weren't in full sympathy with 
 it." 
 
 " I am not." The judge laid his book on the desk 
 and sat stiffly erect. John was immediately enabled 
 to sympathize with those unfortunates who were ar 
 raigned before his father. " Now that the case is 
 ended, I may speak frankly. As a judge I, of course, 
 approve of the punishment of crime. But I don't ap 
 prove your going out of your way to attack Senator 
 Murchell, a fine, clean-living gentleman who has al 
 ways showed the warmest friendship for your family." 
 Judge Dunmeade spoke with restrained emphasis. 
 
 " And has created a pernicious machine," John 
 added incautiously. 
 
 " Which elected you to the office you now hold." 
 
 " Your memory isn't good, Judge. The machine 
 nominated me. The people of Benton County elected 
 me, you may remember." 
 
 " You couldn't have been nominated without Mur- 
 chell's endorsement." 
 
 " That, I'm sorry to say, is probably true," John 
 said, wishing that he had not ventured into the room.
 
 THE PICKET 157 
 
 " You admit it? You show a strange sense of grat 
 itude for favors received ! I have been deeply hurt by 
 your recent attitude. I can understand a Dunmeade 
 being ambitious and trying to attain his ambition by 
 regular, faithful service to his party. I can't under 
 stand one of us seeking notoriety through the sensa 
 tional methods of the political agitator." 
 
 John flushed resentfully. Then the resentment died 
 down. Already he had learned enough to know that 
 this, the climax of six months' coldness, was but a bit 
 ter foretaste of the bitterer misunderstanding with 
 which a slothful world pays its trail-makers. 
 
 " I hope, father," he said, with almost boyish wist- 
 fulness, " you don't think that of me. It seems we 
 can't get the same point of view. But I'd like you to 
 believe in my good faith." 
 
 A soft answer does not always turn away wrath. 
 "What can you expect? Your methods are those of 
 the unsuccessful without the excuse of having been 
 repudiated by your party " 
 
 " But I was repudiated by part of it." 
 
 " Only after you had publicly disowned it ! You 
 have tried to stir up a baseless prejudice against a man 
 who is respected and considered throughout the nation. 
 You have aimed a blow at your party." 
 
 " But, after all, I'm an official of Benton County, 
 not of the Republican party," John demurred. " You 
 can see that." 
 
 "Of course! But you don't serve the people when 
 you deliberately set out to injure the party that has 
 given this nation a prosperity unprecedented " the 
 judge's arm swept out in a magnificent gesture 
 " unparalleled in history."
 
 158 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 John turned away to hide a smile, not a very happy 
 smile. " I don't want to injure the party, if by party 
 you mean the great body of men who compose it." 
 
 " You injure the party, sir," his father exclaimed 
 hotly, " when you try to create prejudice against the 
 leaders whose genius and character have made it the 
 powerful agency it is. And you will find that both 
 they and the party will outlive your attacks, sir." 
 
 " I see no reason to doubt that." 
 
 " Then I suppose you will be content, now that Shee- 
 han is convicted? " 
 
 John paused thoughtfully. " I have to be honest 
 with you. I am not content," he said slowly. " I 
 shall not be content until I have done my best to de 
 stroy boss rule in this state at least, in this county." 
 
 " That's a school-boy sentiment, its implication as 
 ungrounded as school-boy generalities mostly are." 
 
 John pointed to a saber hanging over the mantel. 
 " Judge, you were a soldier a very fine one, I'm 
 told. You risked life and health for a cause. Senti 
 ment, wasn't it, Judge?" 
 
 " No, sir ! Duty to a principle. A fundamental 
 principle was at stake. It was the duty of all re 
 spectable men to defend it." 
 
 " It seems to me that a fundamental principle is in 
 volved here." 
 
 "No such thing!" Judge Dunmeade exclaimed 
 angrily. "No such thing! You can't judge a sys 
 tem by its incidental errors, but by its large results. 
 The strong must always lead, and they will go to the 
 front by the shortest path. The fittest will survive." 
 
 " That question, who is fit ? has caused a good deal 
 of trouble in the world, hasn't it?" John slowly
 
 THE PICKET 159 
 
 walked the length of the room. He did not wish to 
 quarrel with his father, and he realized the futility of 
 argument ; they had no common ground on which they 
 could meet, he remembered that they had never had 
 much in common. And the judge's prejudice was not 
 unique. There were many men good men, too 
 to whom party loyalty was nothing short of a religion; 
 and for " party " they accepted Sheehan's definition. 
 
 He went back to his father. " We don't need to 
 quarrel over it, do we? After all, we're father and 
 son. I I ask you to remember that it would be 
 easier all round for me to go along with the old 
 order." 
 
 But the judge was not to be mollified. " Old order ! 
 Think you know more than your old, behind-the-times 
 father, do you? Think one blast of your school-boy: 
 eloquence will create a new system, do you? You 
 have a poor way of showing affection. Your attitude 
 is a personal affront to me, a criticism of my honor 
 and intelligence. I am not one of those who consider 
 themselves better than their party. I'm proud to say 
 I belong to the old order as you call it. Good 
 night ! " he concluded shortly. 
 
 " I'm sorry you feel so about it. Good night 
 father." 
 
 Judge Dunmeade resumed his book. 
 
 Now the judicial temperament is not given to im 
 pulse. But, as John went slowly out of the room 
 Judge Dunmeade experienced a novel sensation which 
 in the brief moment allowed for reflection he was at 
 loss to define. Later he decided that it was his gen 
 erous nature asserting itself to give his son another 
 chance. He may have been mistaken.
 
 i6o HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 Be that as it may, before John had passed quite out 
 of the room he was recalled by an unexpected 
 " Wait ! " The tone, it is true, was not precisely pro 
 pitiatory. 
 
 He returned. "Yes, father?" 
 
 " I suppose," said the judge gruffly, " your father's 
 interest can have no weight with you. It ought to be 
 clear to you without suggestion from me that if you 
 persist in attacking Senator Murchell you make my 
 lifelong ambition impossible." 
 
 " Are you still taking that seriously ? The senator 
 has been teasing you along with the promise of a jus 
 ticeship for ten years. Don't you know by this time 
 that he has no intention of giving it to you? " 
 
 " He gave you a nomination." 
 
 " Yes, he Happened to believe he could make use of 
 me." 
 
 " But your old-fashioned father, with nothing but 
 his four years' service in the nation's battles and 
 twenty years on the bench, has no value. Is that it? " 
 
 " It isn't a question of merit or talent. If it were 
 that, I should say," John replied gently, his conscience 
 generously keeping silence, " I should say you have 
 the right to ask big things. But it seems to be solely 
 a question of the senator's political necessities. I 
 I doubt that he needs you, father." 
 
 " That means, I presume," the judge said bitterly, 
 " that I count for nothing against your notions ? But 
 I might have known it ! " 
 
 " I have already paid something for the privilege of 
 having ' notions.' I shall probably have to pay more. 
 But we haven't the right to consider one man against 
 a principle "
 
 THE PICKET 161 
 
 But the judge had done all that a generous nature 
 could ask. 
 
 " You needn't explain. Your refusal to consider 
 your father speaks for itself. Good night ! " he re 
 peated. 
 
 And John, smiling helplessly, left the judge. The 
 latter consumed many minutes pondering the perti 
 nence of a certain proverb in which a serpent's tooth 
 and an ungrateful child are compared. 
 
 Out in the clear night John walked slowly about. 
 More than ever he realized the price which they must 
 pay who would be Voices. His sense of loneliness 
 deepened: the loneliness of the picket standing guard 
 under the stars.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 APPLES OF EDEN 
 
 IF the summer before had been gay, what shall we 
 say of that which now opened? The center of 
 gaiety was East Ridge. The Italian villa was the 
 scene of one continuous house party. Certain gilded 
 families from the Steel City, advance guard of the 
 colony that was to come, " camped out " experi 
 mentally in hastily remodeled farm-houses pending 
 the erection of the proposed " cottages." Thither ar 
 riving summer residents immediately began to cast 
 longing glances ; but the Ridge, sad to relate, thought 
 itself sufficient unto itself. A whole volume might be 
 filled with the serio-comic adventures of the family 
 of Bates, tin-plate manufacturer from Castleton 
 twenty miles south who bought and moved into a 
 Ridge farm-house in the innocent belief that neigh 
 bors were always neighborly; late in the summer he 
 sold his farm at a loss to Hampden. 
 
 It was inevitable that John and Katherine should 
 meet. It happened one morning a few days after the 
 Sheehan trial when John was leaving the post-office 
 with his daily mail. A trap drew up in which sat 
 Katherine and a young man. There was no trace of 
 self -consciousness as she cordially greeted John and 
 introduced her companion. John remembered a say 
 ing of hers concerning one whom "people were apt 
 
 162
 
 APPLES OF EDEN 163 
 
 to sneer at as a speculator," but whom she thought 
 " splendid because he had had the brains and courage 
 to make his own fight and win." He had no difficulty 
 in identifying that man with Gregg, of whom he had 
 heard more than once. Gregg was an attractive fel 
 low, a few years older than John, of athletic build 
 and pleasant manner. He looked the pirate of the 
 stock exchange even less than did Hampden; if the 
 dollar madness had gripped his soul it had as yet set 
 no mark on his frank, nicely-browned countenance. 
 He joined Katharine in congratulating John on his 
 recently acquired fame; they insisted on "fame." 
 She laughingly chided him on his failure to run down 
 to the Steel City to see her during the winter. 
 
 " But you must make up for it, now we're here. 
 We expect to see you often on the Ridge. There will 
 be tennis. He will make you play," she said to Gregg, 
 who responded pleasantly. 
 
 " I'd like to have the chance, Mr. Dunmeade. I've 
 been hearing about your game." 
 
 John murmured a promise to put in an appearance 
 in the indefinitely near future and broke away, mop 
 ping his brow and wondering at the perverse fate that 
 made people, whose ideals were so far from his, so 
 attractive to him. 
 
 But, although Gregg spent nearly every week-end 
 on the Ridge, John did not keep his promise. Indeed, 
 he had little time for recreation ; and that little was 
 put in with Haig, with whom he was rapidly cementing 
 a friendship. The June primaries were at hand. 
 John felt less pride than responsibility when he found 
 that he was expected to lead the campaign to capture 
 the county nominations from the machine and that,
 
 164 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 by tacit consent of friends and enemies alike, upon 
 him devolved the task of choosing the reform ticket. 
 He gave much thought to this task. It was not sim 
 ple. There were many unworthy gentlemen, he dis 
 covered, willing to be swept into office by the wave of 
 popular protest. And he could have learned here, had 
 he been so minded, that even a reformer must em 
 ploy the wisdom of the serpent. He achieved results 
 at which a politician might have sneered but that were 
 on the whole very promising in the light of his inex 
 perience. 
 
 One day he summoned Jeremy Applegate to his of 
 fice. 
 
 i( Jeremy, you're the recorder's chief clerk." 
 
 " Yes," answered Jeremy anxiously, wondering 
 what blunder had been unearthed. 
 
 " Know how the office ought to run ? " 
 
 " I guess so." 
 
 " Do you think you could run it yourself? " 
 
 " I been runnin' it for twenty years, what runnin' 
 it's had. Tain't much." 
 
 " Jeremy, how would you like to run for the nom 
 ination ? " 
 
 "Me recorder?" Jeremy stared at John in 
 amazement. His withered old face turned red, then 
 pale. His stooping shoulders became suddenly 
 straight and stiff. 
 
 " Yes. How would you like it ? " 
 
 Jeremy's pride died as suddenly as it had been born. 
 " I I'm afraid," he muttered. 
 
 " But we're going to win." 
 
 " I think you're goin' to win. But I I've seen
 
 APPLES OF EDEN 165 
 
 'em pull through so often. S'pose you lose. I'd be 
 done for. They'd throw me out." 
 
 " Can't you chance it? " John urged. " You'd make 
 a good candidate. You've lots of friends and," he 
 smiled, " you've proved that you're a good vote-getter. 
 You'd be working for a man at last." 
 
 " Yes," Jeremy said dully, " I'd be workin' for 
 you." 
 
 " No. I meant you'd be working for yourself, 
 Jeremy." 
 
 Tears stood in Jeremy's eyes. " Me ! " he cried bit 
 terly. " Me a man ! I'm just a poor critter with 
 out any backbone. They've beat it out of me with 
 their power and their orders. I'm just man enough 
 to be ashamed but not to fight 'em. I'm afraid of 
 'em. Sheehan's gone yes, but Murchell's left. An' 
 if they was both gone, there'd be somebody to take 
 their place. I been takin' their orders too long to 
 b'lieve you can win. They've got me, body an' soul. 
 They get everybody. They'll get you in the end. No, 
 you don't want me you need a man." 
 
 John turned away, with a sickening sensation, from 
 the beaten, hangdog look in Jeremy's eyes, realizing 
 that the generous, impulsive suggestion had been un 
 wise indeed. The old soldier rose and stumped 
 heavily to the door. There he paused. 
 
 " But I thank you kindly for thinkin' of me," he 
 said humbly. " I hope you win. And I hope you 
 won't hold it against me, Johnny ? " 
 
 " No, I shan't hold it against you, Jeremy," John 
 said gently. Jeremy left. As always when he saw 
 the old clerk's pathetic plight, John felt anger, hot, bit-
 
 166 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 ter anger, rise against the Thing the " they " 
 that crushed the pride and courage out of its servitors, 
 made them cringing, fearing creatures even in the face 
 of possible release from servitude. 
 
 In Haig John found an unexpected but invaluable 
 aide. The novelist had once been a political reporter 
 on a Steel City newspaper and he knew the game of 
 politics as John did not know it. He gave much 
 shrewd advice by which John profited. And the re 
 form ticket was nominated. Murchell, cynically will 
 ing to let the reform wave run its brief course, with 
 held his hand. The machine, headless and broken, 
 struggled, but cautiously, its arm palsied by fear and 
 the certitude that defeat was to be its portion. Bereft 
 of its familiar weapon fraud it was easily conquered 
 by a people thoroughly angered. Even Plumville 
 gave the reformers a small majority. Haig hailed 
 John as a little " boss." 
 
 John indignantly rejected the title. " My work is 
 done or, at least, will be when they're elected. I 
 can't interfere with them then." 
 
 " Say, aren't you afraid the cows will take you for 
 a bunch of nice, green, succulent clover? Just wait," 
 Haig grinned, " until they're in office. Make no mis 
 take, sonny you'll need to keep a tight rein on them. 
 About a year from now I expect to see some pretty 
 little, home-made illusions badly busted." 
 
 There were others who saw in John a power that 
 could bestow or withhold. 
 
 A few days after the primaries John met Jeremy, 
 a patently-worried Jeremy, whose eyes would wander 
 away. 
 
 " I'm glad you won, Johnny," he declared. " I
 
 APPLES OF EDEN 167 
 
 didn't work for you, but I didn't work ag'in' you 
 neither not very hard." 
 
 " I know that, Jeremy." 
 
 Jeremy fumbled the button in the lapel of his coat. 
 "A about my job I " 
 
 " Yes, Jeremy," John said hurriedly. " You can 
 still have it, if we win in the fall and I have any influ 
 ence." He walked away to escape the old man's grati 
 tude. He was becoming accustomed to this sort of 
 interview. 
 
 And the promised journey to the Ridge had not yet 
 been made. 
 
 One afternoon Haig found him in his office. 
 "How's the bosslet? Had a shave to-day? Feeling 
 conversational ? " Haig's questions and remarks were 
 usually poured out with the rapidity of a machine 
 gun. 
 
 " Get out ! I'm busy." John gave the intruder a 
 brief glance and turned his attention again to the paper 
 he was drawing. 
 
 " Because," Haig continued, " you and I are going 
 out for a little drive this afternoon." 
 
 " We're not. I hope you are. I've got things to 
 do." 
 
 " This American habit of industry is becoming a 
 positive mania. I'll write a novel about it. I'm told 
 the critics haven't had any one to roast lately. Are 
 you coming peaceably or will you go anyhow ? " 
 
 " I'll do neither." John continued his writing. 
 
 "All right!" Haig seated himself, deposited his 
 feet on the desk beside John and commenced an ap 
 parently interminable monologue on the apocryphal 
 cleverness of a dog he once had owned.
 
 i68 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 " You're an infernal nuisance sometimes, Haig! " 
 
 " Coming along ? No ? All right ! As I was say 
 ing, when Moses had learned to carry a stick I taught 
 him to play the drum, and after that to use a knife 
 and fork was easy. You ought to have seen " 
 
 John threw down his pen in disgust. " I surren 
 der," he groaned. " I'll go to get rid of you." 
 
 " Thought I could persuade you. Come right 
 along. I've got a buggy outside." 
 
 John put his papers away and meekly followed to 
 the waiting vehicle. Haig drove, chattering volubly 
 of whatever came into his mind. John leaned back 
 lazily, an audience of whom nothing was expected but 
 occasional assent. This was not the first excursion 
 of the kind into which Haig had seduced him; its 
 predecessors had all been enjoyable. 
 
 But when Haig turned into the Ridge road, John 
 stirred uneasily. When, at the crest of the Ridge 
 they turned toward the north, his anxiety found 
 words. 
 
 " Going anywhere in particular ? " 
 
 " Anywhere you'd like to go ? " 
 
 " No-o, I guess not." 
 
 " Then we'll go to the Hampdens. There's al 
 ways somebody there." 
 
 " O, no, we won't. Let's go back the other direc 
 tion. I like the south road better." 
 
 " The devil you do ! Why not Hampdens ? " 
 
 " Well, you see," John began to explain lamely, 
 " Hampden and I aren't on very good terms and " 
 
 "Lord! Don't I know that? He spends most of 
 his time enumerating the different kinds of damn fool 
 you are. I sometimes think his list is incomplete.
 
 APPLES OF EDEN 169 
 
 But what difference does that make? We aren't 
 going to see him. There's a fellow up there 
 Gregg that I want you to play tennis with." 
 
 " I haven't had a racket in my hand all summer," 
 John protested. 
 
 " Macht's nichts aus! I've never seen you play, but 
 you can beat him. You've got to. He's got my 
 scalp so often, I have to take revenge by proxy. Be 
 sides, you need a little frivolity. You're beginning 
 to take yourself seriously, and that's a bad sign. And 
 I've been feeling selfish all summer, having no one to 
 share her with her air of being a perfect lady and 
 her silly little affectations " 
 
 " No one," John interrupted coldly, " could accuse 
 Katherine Hampden of affectation." 
 
 " Eh ? O, these youngsters ! " Haig groaned, he 
 might have been two or three years older than John, 
 " who can't hear the rustle of a skirt without at once 
 suffering love pangs and can't understand that a sen 
 sible, experienced man gets more fun out of the safe 
 old uns! I don't mean her. I mean the mother. 
 Isn't she a pippin? The picture of sleek health 
 with her constant look of a dying calf. I fooled her 
 the other day," he chuckled. " She thought she was 
 going to faint. At least, she said she was. She 
 clutched at me. I dodged. She sat plump down on 
 the grass. I helped her up and she walked away, the 
 maddest old hen in Benton County." 
 
 " I must say you've a pleasant way of appreciating 
 hospitality ! " John protested indignantly. " Let's 
 not go there not this afternoon, anyway." 
 
 " Why not ? Don't work that Hampden excuse 
 again now."
 
 170 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 " Well, I'm not fixed up for it." He looked at his 
 shoes upon which a thin coating of dust had settled. 
 
 Haig surveyed him and then stretched out over the 
 dashboard a lean shank, the trouser of which had not 
 felt an iron for many a day. " You're a regular dude 
 beside me." 
 
 ' Yes," John grinned, " but then I'm not posing as 
 an eccentric." 
 
 " O, these witty rubes ! " Haig broke into a gale 
 of shrill laughter that caused even their staid livery 
 horse to prick up his ears. " Why don't you want 
 to go? Hm-m-m! I scent mystery here perhaps 
 some unsuspected romance. Is it possible that you 
 and" 
 
 " O, have it your own way," John agreed with as 
 good grace as possible. " No wonder you could 
 write that fool book ! " He could not well explain 
 that he and Katherine had been in love, that he was 
 still in the same case though she had probably re 
 covered, that he had persistently stayed away from 
 her for the sake of his peace of mind, and Almost 
 any excuse for yielding will serve, when one is re 
 sisting a weakness to which one both wishes and does 
 not wish to succumb. 
 
 On the shaded eastern terrace they found a small 
 group of young people of both sexes. Haig saluted 
 them with a triumphant hail, " I've brought him ! 
 Now, you broker man, I'll bet you ten dollars he can 
 beat you, best two out of three sets." 
 
 Katherine rose and came forward to meet them. 
 Gregg accompanied her, almost with the air of a host, 
 it seemed to John. They greeted the new-comers cor 
 dially, Katherine with such a notable absence of con-
 
 APPLES OF EDEN 171 
 
 straint that John, who had nerved himself for an 
 ordeal, was rather heavily let down. He could almost 
 have believed that she had forgotten the ride home 
 under the October moon. 
 
 When the greetings were over, " Now, Gregg," 
 Haig began, " how about that bet? " 
 
 " Of course, Mr. Dunmeade," Gregg said cour 
 teously, " I shan't bet on your performance without 
 your consent. But I'll be glad of a match. I can rig 
 you out." 
 
 " Very well," John agreed helplessly. " And," he 
 muttered vengefully to Haig, " I hope you lose your 
 bet." Haig merely grinned. John followed Kath- 
 erine to be introduced to the rest of the group. 
 
 Yet, once a member of the group, his reluctance 
 passed away, not suddenly but slowly, driven out by 
 a sense of exhilaration that gradually stole in on 
 him: much the sort of exhilaration, one must sup 
 pose, felt by the tight-rope artist or by him 
 who treads the edge of a precipice. The proximity 
 of danger challenged him; yet he told himself there 
 was no danger. Katherine had evidently decided to 
 ignore as a negligible episode, if she had not for 
 gotten, the last summer. Doubtless her brief interest 
 had been a temporary aberration induced by the moon 
 light. And, since he must pay in equal coin in any 
 case, why not have something for which to pay? Et 
 cetera! Love always has its sophistries, which con 
 vince without deceiving. 
 
 And it was undeniably pleasant to loll luxuriously 
 in the comfortable wicker chair, watching the play 
 of animated young faces from whose freshness 
 neither work nor worry had subtracted, against the
 
 172 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 background of greensward and flowering shrubbery; 
 listening to the tinkle of ice in glasses and the hum 
 of well-bred voices in small talk, not very witty nor 
 wise perhaps, but relaxing, soothing; breathing in the 
 heavy fragrance of honeysuckle and hyacinth with 
 which the aroma from his very good cigarette mingled 
 deliciously. Occasionally he tossed a light word on 
 the eddy of conversation. He noticed that when he 
 spoke, all, especially the men, showed interest. That, 
 too, was pleasant. 
 
 " I don't greatly want, I certainly don't need, but 
 I can enjoy this sort of thing," he thought. " A 
 little of it, that is. And I can understand that one 
 brought up in it might think it indispensable." This 
 was not so pleasant. 
 
 Later, Gregg reminded him of the promised match 
 and, when they had donned flannels, it was played. 
 John lost, although after the first set he gave his 
 opponent a hard game. Gregg proved a generous 
 conqueror, finding more excuses for his victory than 
 John could have devised. The latter enjoyed every 
 point, especially when Haig, grumbling something 
 about a " thrown match," paid his bet Afterward, 
 in the physical contentment consequent upon hard 
 exercise and a good tubbing, he stayed to dinner, a 
 very gay, informal affair served on the terrace by 
 candlelight. He sat between pretty Mrs. Gilbert, who 
 he understood had a husband somewhere, and little 
 Miss Haines, who adored Persian cats and was very 
 much interested in his account of a " smoke " that 
 Miss Roberta possessed. Then more luxurious loll 
 ing and smoking into the gathering night. After
 
 APPLES OF EDEN 173, 
 
 which there was music, furnished principally by 
 Mrs. Gilbert, who sang really well, and by Haig, who 
 had a fair tenor voice. John was almost regretful 
 when the time came to leave. 
 
 Late that night, going over the day, he found that 
 he had talked a great deal with Katherine, but never ' 
 alone. If she had manceuvered, she had accomplished 
 it so cleverly that he could not perceive the intention. 
 Just once had he excuse to believe that she still thought 
 of the last summer. He was leaving. 
 
 " I am very glad you came," she said brightly. 
 " You will come again? " 
 
 " And I am glad. I certainly shall." 
 
 Then it was he thought he caught a question flick 
 ering momentarily in her eyes. But the question, if 
 there at all save in his imagination, was gone before 
 he could make sure. 
 
 "Good night!" 
 
 He was silent during the drive homeward, and Haig, 
 busily humming the pilgrims' chorus motif, did not 
 try to interrupt his thoughts. They were nearing the 
 town when Haig abruptly broke the silence. 
 
 " It's a shame, isn't it? " he said musingly. " Na 
 ture evidently intended her for a mother. With that 
 superb body and health she ought to bring a dozen 
 or so equally superb children into the world and give 
 her life to bringing 'em up." 
 
 " Haig," John said shortly, " you have a most dis 
 gusting fashion of discussing women." 
 
 " Now, Polly Ann dear ! " the novelist jeered, " don't 
 fly off the handle. Where's the harm in discussing 
 an event that is repeated oftener than any other in
 
 174 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 all nature ? But she won't. She'll probably marry 
 that Gregg, shirk her manifest destiny and devote her 
 life to turning herself into a selfish pig. 
 
 " Unless," he chuckled, " you take the field for her 
 salvation and the honor of New Chelsea. There's 
 your chance. Go it, my son ! " 
 
 John's laugh may have convinced himself. " Sup 
 pose I were fool enough to try, I'd have a lot to 
 offer against the apparently irresistible Gregg, 
 wouldn't I?" 
 
 " Well, now," Haig repeated the chuckle, " I hadn't 
 thought of that. You'd have nothing. I'll tell you 
 what we'll do. We'll go to my rooms and throw 
 cold hands, quarter a throw, until I've won back that 
 ten dollars you lost me." 
 
 " And I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll drive right 
 home and go to bed. I'm too sleepy to endure more 
 of your clatter to-night." 
 
 Haig's parting shot as they separated was, " Now 
 I've shown you the way, go up there often. You'll 
 be a brighter and nobler man for it." 
 
 John went, not often and always in Haig's com 
 pany, it is true, but often enough to keep burning 
 brightly the fires within him. 
 
 If John's love affairs remained in statu quo, those 
 of another advanced, at least to a climax. Amid the 
 cares of bank and divers trusteeships W T arren Blake 
 found time to contribute to the gaiety of the Ridge. 
 That is to say, he was frequently to be found on the 
 Hampden terrace, an inconspicuous, often half-for 
 gotten listener to the nimble gossip and badinage. 
 Had he been more obtrusive, it is probable that 
 he would have been snubbed into staying away; but
 
 APPLES OF EDEN 175 
 
 one does not greatly resent the attentions of a 
 shadow. 
 
 Sometimes Katherine let him ride with her, finding 
 his infrequent, prosaic utterances almost a comfort. 
 She did not admit to herself that she needed com 
 fort, but there were times when the monotony of 
 familiar faces and the unvarying chatter chafed and 
 she had a need to get away into the hills alone. To 
 be with Warren was to be practically alone. They 
 were on such an excursion late one afternoon. Ap 
 parently the reflections in which she had lost herself 
 did not concern him, for she did not hear a question 
 that he addressed to her. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Warren. I wasn't listen- 
 ing" ' 
 
 He repeated the question. " Will you marry me? " 
 
 She gasped in astonishment. " Why, Warren, I 
 I have never considered " 
 
 " I thought you wouldn't." His tone, almost de 
 void of feeling, misled her into a smile. 
 
 " Why did you ask, then? " 
 
 " I owed it to myself to try." 
 
 " I don't think you care very much, Warren." It 
 was difficult to take this proposal seriously. 
 
 " Yes, I do," he answered quietly. Then she saw 
 his eyes and knew that she was in the presence of a 
 real suffering. Instantly she became gentle. 
 
 " I am sorry I didn't think " 
 
 " You needn't be sorry over something you can't 
 control," he interrupted. " One loves or one doesn't. 
 We don't have much to do with it." 
 
 " At least," she said gently, " one can suppress an 
 unhappy love. I hope "
 
 176 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 " You know better than that." 
 
 She knew better than that! . . . Somehow his 
 quiet words sent the blood rushing to her cheeks. 
 
 " Why don't you marry John Dunmeade? " he asked 
 abruptly. 
 
 She turned on him angrily. " Warren ! That is 
 an" 
 
 "An impertinence?" he interrupted again, evenly. 
 lt You will allow me this time. I'm not likely to 
 bother you much again. You were in love with him 
 last summer. And you aren't the sort that forgets. 
 Nor is he, I think. He will go further than any of 
 us he'll go better. He is what you need. With 
 me with Gregg you would be merely a pleasant 
 incident. You know that yourself. I think you're 
 fighting against that knowledge. Don't do it." It 
 was the longest speech she had ever heard from his 
 lips. 
 
 " I think," she said with more bitterness than she 
 realized, " women are always just a pleasant incident 
 in the lives of men. That is truer of John Dunmeade 
 than of any man I know." 
 
 Characteristically, he made no reply; he had said 
 what he had to say. For more than a mile they rode 
 without speaking. She was struggling to regain the 
 wonted outward serenity he had so unexpectedly dis 
 turbed, and to silence the questions her heart per 
 sisted in asking. It was not a new struggle for her. 
 All summer she had been engaged in it, in the effort 
 to hold firmly to a resolution she had made. 
 
 When they were nearing home she turned to him 
 again. " I didn't know you and he were friends."
 
 APPLES OE EDEN 177 
 
 " We are not," he replied simply. " He doesn't 
 care for me." 
 
 " You are mistaken about him and me," she said 
 steadily. " But that you could plead for him, when 
 you O, I call that fine, Warren ! " she ended im 
 pulsively. 
 
 " I'm thinking of you," he said. " Since I can't 
 have what I want, I want you to have what you 
 need." 
 
 When they reached the house, he helped her to 
 alight and would have left with merely a formal 
 " Good afternoon." But she held out her hand. " I 
 I have done you an injustice," she said kindly. 
 " We all have. I think you are a very fine gentle 
 man. I can't give you what you want. But I can 
 give a sincere respect and the hope that you will 
 find happiness." 
 
 He smiled faintly and rode away, leaving her with 
 the sense of having done an unintended cruelty. 
 
 She waited until the groom came to take her horse 
 and then walked slowly to a shaded seat in a secluded 
 corner of the garden. For more than an hour she 
 sat, chin cupped in one hand, gazing out over the 
 green hills. Once, " It's such a jumble," she sighed, 
 " what I want. I wish I weren't so I wish he " 
 She did not indicate what she wished, and she was not 
 referring to Warren Blake.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE PRIME MINISTER 
 
 SENATOR MURCHELL, after several weeks' ab 
 sence, had returned to his " legal residence." On 
 his roundabout journey homeward he had been in 
 terviewed by many reporters concerning a rumored 
 revolt in the organization. His answers, they had 
 noticed, were marked by an irritable quality strange 
 indeed, coming from the man who " played politics 
 twenty- four hours of every day." 
 
 A few days after the senator's return, New Chel 
 sea was visited by a monarch. But he came incognito, 
 with a notable absence of regal splendor. To Silas 
 Hicks, at the station, appeared a short, square-whis 
 kered, alert man who asked to be taken to Senator 
 Murchell's home. 
 
 " Senator's out to the farm," Silas responded in the 
 omniscience of hackmen. 
 
 " Then take me to the farm." 
 
 Arrived at the farm, he received another command 
 to wait. A hired man was repairing a broken 
 place in the fence. From him royalty demanded to 
 know the whereabouts of the prime minister. 
 
 The hired man leisurely drove a nail before an 
 swering; he recognized no power higher than the 
 premiership and was accustomed to the arrival of 
 gentlemen in a hurry. " 'Low ye'll find the senator," 
 
 178
 
 THE PRIME MINISTER 179 
 
 he drawled, pointing with his thumb, " in the potato 
 patch back of the barn." 
 
 Before the words were out of his mouth, the visitor 
 had started, with quick, decided steps, in the direction 
 indicated. 
 
 " Seems to be some in a hurry," the hired man com 
 mented. 
 
 Silas sighed. " Guess I can't charge him more'n 
 two dollars fer the trip." Silas had this in common 
 with his passenger : his motto was, " Charge all the 
 traffic can bear." 
 
 In the middle of the potato patch the visitor beheld 
 the figure of his minister, arrayed in a pair of the 
 hired man's overalls and a straw hat of enormous 
 brim, busily hoeing. Toward this truly rural figure 
 Sackett for our monarch is no other than the presi 
 dent of the great Atlantic Railroad made his way, 
 considerably to the damage of the vines beneath his 
 feet. 
 
 "Careful!" admonished the senator. "Walk be 
 tween the hills." 
 
 Sackett became more careful. " How are you, 
 Senator?" 
 
 "How're you, Sackett?" 
 
 Their hands met, to part instantly. 
 
 " I was in Plumville and thought I'd drop over to 
 see you." 
 
 " Yes ? " One might have perceived in the sena 
 tor's tone a lack of that eager interest to receive which 
 is a royal prerogative. 
 
 " Raising quite a crop, aren't you of farmer 
 votes? Didn't Lincoln say something about the man 
 who raises two votes where one grew before? "
 
 i8o HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 To which facetious remark the senator vouchsafed 
 no answer but a grunt. Sackett looked out over the 
 young corn in the neighboring field. 
 
 " Sorry you missed me in Adelphia. I was in New 
 York." 
 
 " Didn't miss you," Murchell grunted again. " I 
 didn't look for you." 
 
 There was a pause during which he resumed his 
 hoeing. 
 
 " What," Sackett demanded, " is the matter with 
 Sherrod?" 
 
 The senator's hoe hovered over a crawling bug. 
 " Nothing more'n usual," he answered. " Seems to 
 be a good many bugs this year. I must get some bug- 
 killer." The descending hoe cut the bug into two 
 squirming pieces. Sackett looked up inquiringly; he 
 wondered if the senator were speaking in parables. 
 
 " Can't we get out of this sun? " He mopped his 
 red face. 
 
 Murchell dropped the hoe and led the way to a 
 lone walnut tree at the corner of the patch and they 
 sat down. 
 
 " About Sherrod," Sackett began, " why can't you 
 patch up things with him? " 
 
 " He wants too much," Murchell answered briefly. 
 
 " I was talking to him last week." 
 
 Murchell turned on him suddenly. " Told you I 
 ought to get down from the head of the organization, 
 didn't he? Told you that Adelphia and the Steel 
 City are turning against me, that he wants to be gov 
 ernor and that the steel people want Parrott for my 
 job in the senate, didn't he?"
 
 THE PRIME MINISTER 181 
 
 Sackett was astonished at this apparent omnis 
 cience. 
 
 " Did you deal with him, Sackett? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " But you sent him away in a good humor, eh ? 
 Like to be friends with both sides, don't you ? " 
 
 " You fellows," Sackett exploded irritably, " had 
 better settle your squabbles, or you'll give some in 
 cendiary the chance to step in and raise Cain. The 
 trouble is, Sherrod is close to the Steel City organiza 
 tion and the Michigan is trying to get into the 
 city." The secret of the royal irritation is out; a 
 competing monarch is making ready to invade his 
 dominion ! 
 
 Murchell smiled bitterly. "So that's it? For 
 twenty years I've been doing your dirty work. And 
 now at the first threat of competition you're ready to 
 throw me over without a scruple if you think it's 
 safe! It isn't safe, Sackett. Lord! what cowards 
 you rich men are ! You're rotten rotten as last 
 year's apples." 
 
 Sackett's eyes snapped angrily. " I've my duty to 
 my stock-holders of whom you are one. Can you 
 keep the Michigan out ? " 
 
 " I don't know, so I won't promise. But have I 
 ever failed you yet? " 
 
 "How are you going to do it?" 
 
 " I don't know yet. I'll let you know later how 
 much it'll cost you. This reform crowd in the Steel 
 City," he added without humorous intent, " comes 
 high." 
 
 " I don't believe you can do it. You're too unpop-
 
 182 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 ular with the organization. You've been too strong- 
 handed. Things are ripe for a revolt. Why, you 
 can't even control your own county! " 
 
 " When I give up hope for this county,' 5 the sena 
 tor answered sharply, " you can talk. AH that's been 
 said before. How do you expect me to keep these 
 hungry coyotes in line by quoting golden-rule 
 Scripture at 'em ? Do you want to go back to the old 
 guerrilla days, Sackett ? " 
 
 Sackett stared moodily at his feet. Murchell took 
 off his old straw hat and leaned against the tree. He 
 waited until Sackett was ready to speak. 
 
 " About Parrott," Sackett said, after a long pause. 
 " MacGregor and Flick want him for senator." 
 
 " He's slated for governor. I like rny job." 
 
 " But Sherrod wants to be governor." 
 
 " He'll take what he's earned and can get," Mur 
 chell said shortly. " Parrott can have Roseben's place 
 four years from now maybe we'll see." 
 
 " But they want him to have your place. They 
 say," Sackett explained with that brutal frankness 
 which we naturally associate with royalty, " that 
 you're nothing but a politician and have been identified 
 with a lot of unpopular things, while Parrott is a 
 fine lawyer and could easily work up a reputation as 
 a statesman. They figure he could get 'em more. 
 And they don't care whether the Michigan gets in or 
 not; they think they'd get better rates. And they're 
 afraid that you and Sherrod with your squabbles will 
 spill the milk. I'm afraid of that, too," he added 
 gloomily. 
 
 He looked at the senator inquiringly. Murchell 
 was staring listlessly at a brown-winged butterfly that
 
 THE PRIME MINISTER 183 
 
 hovered near them, his mouth relaxed in a smile, the 
 quality of which Sackett could not understand. 
 
 " Senator, you're getting to be an old man. You've 
 had enough. Why don't you retire? " 
 
 Murchell sat up suddenly as though he had re 
 ceived an electric shock. He caught Sackett's knee 
 in a grip not exactly senile. 
 
 " Old, am I ? " he exclaimed harshly. " Want me 
 to retire, do you? Well, I won't. And I'll tell you 
 why because the organization, the power, is mine. 
 Mine, not yours! Not your money, but my brain, 
 put it together. I'm nothing but a disreputable poli 
 tician, I'm not a polished lawyer because I've been 
 a slave to the organization, because I've used my 
 power and talents for you, first to protect you from 
 the blackmailers and then from the people. Set your 
 mind easy. I'm too old to learn new tricks. I'll 
 not turn agitator like these dreamers and fellows with 
 a grievance. The Michigan won't come in, if I can 
 help it. But Sherrod won't be governor and Parrott 
 won't get my seat. I'm not going to give up what 
 I've worked for all my life." He sank back against 
 the tree. His grip on Sackett's knee relaxed. The 
 energy died out of his voice, the gleam from his 
 eyes. 
 
 " I guess," he said dryly, " you've said what you 
 came to say. And you've got my answer." He 
 looked at his watch. "If you're going to take that 
 three o'clock train, you'd better hustle. You shouldn't 
 have come at all." 
 
 Sackett frowned, not at the absurdity of the mon 
 arch being dismissed by his premier. " I'll think over 
 what you've said." They rose.
 
 184 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 Murchell gripped him again, this time by the shoul 
 der. " You tell 'em that I like my job and that I'm 
 not too old to run it. And, Sackett," he added, " play 
 fair play fair! " 
 
 Sackett left, wondering if in an enlightened, up- 
 to-date monarchy a prime minister could have more 
 power than his liege. Had he looked back, he would 
 have seen the man who had never worked up a repu 
 tation as a statesman, industriously plying his hoe. 
 Sackett would have been surprised, had he known that 
 the senator's mind was not on the conversation just 
 ended ; he was seeing very clearly the gray- 
 green eyes of a young woman and measuring himself 
 against a young man who once had been. 
 
 After a while the senator discovered that he was 
 digging up vines as well as weeds. He straightened 
 up. 
 
 " I'm a sentimental old fool," he growled com- 
 plainingly, " to let ghosts of the past disturb me." 
 
 He plucked a handful of grass and carefully cleaned 
 his hoe, then walked slowly to the house. 
 
 " I guess," he said to the hired man, " you may as 
 well hitch up. I'm going into town." 
 
 " Mighty smart-lookin' feller," the hired man sug 
 gested, " was here just now." 
 
 " That," answered Murchell, " was a gentleman 
 who believes in the divine right of kings." 
 
 The hired man considered this statement. " Snakes ! 
 Guess he ain't a Republican then." And went to 
 hitch up. 
 
 John was standing at the window of his court-house 
 office. The sense of loneliness was upon him again.
 
 THE PRIME MINISTER 185 
 
 It is a fact that exalted moments, when a man's ears 
 are attuned to the voices of the growing things, come 
 very infrequently. Between them are periods when 
 purpose, when impulse to be a Voice, are not enough ; 
 when the task looms large and the man seems small, 
 unequal, presumptuous. It may be that the sight of 
 Katherine Hampden sauntering down Main Street in 
 company with a beflanneled summer gentleman had 
 something to do with his mood. 
 
 Then another vision was accorded him, of a fat 
 white horse lazily drawing an ancient top-buggy in 
 which sat Senator Murchell, for all the world a pros 
 perous farmer passing into age amid peace and plenty. 
 John grinned ironically at what he regarded as an 
 obvious affectation ; an injustice to the senator. The 
 horse stopped. John watched Murchell while he tied 
 the beast to the hitching-post and strode toward the 
 court-house. Then the grin died away. Somehow 
 the rugged, practical face, the big, loosely built, 
 slightly stooping figure clad in the flowing alpaca coat 
 seemed the very expression of power and of some 
 thing which John believed William Murchell was not. 
 John tried to measure himself against the older man, 
 and sighed. He turned away from the window. 
 
 A minute later came a knock at his door. " Come ! " 
 he said. 
 
 The senator entered. " Afternoon, John." 
 
 " What can I do for you ? " 
 
 " Humph ! don't seem very glad to see me. You 
 might ask me to sit down." 
 
 John pointed to a chair, " Why hesitate ? It's 
 your court-house, isn't it ? " 
 
 " Understood you'd taken a mortgage on it your-
 
 i86 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 self, lately." Murchell sat down, looking genially at 
 John. The latter smoked in silence, wondering what 
 this call might portend. 
 
 " So you think I'm a disgrace to the state ? " the 
 senator inquired at last. 
 
 " Well, just about that," John said pleasantly. 
 
 " Told Miss Roberta I'm a bad man, didn't you? " 
 
 " I could have put it stronger." 
 
 " How could you have put it ? " 
 
 John did not answer at once. He stared thought 
 fully at the smoke curling from his pipe. 
 
 " You aren't afraid to say it, are you? " 
 
 " No, I was just thinking how to put it," John said 
 quietly. " I could have said that you are a shameful 
 force in politics, that you have exploited a great party 
 and the ignorance of the people, that you have built 
 up a machine for the sole purpose of looting the 
 state, that you have got and held power by com 
 pelling public servants to use the influence of their 
 office to perpetuate your machine and by buying the 
 votes of the corruptible. There's probably a lot more, 
 if I only knew it. I've never heard that you have 
 used your power for any good thing. Without pro 
 fession or business you are a rich man how ? Yet 
 you expect people to respect, to obey you without 
 question, as though it were your right. I suppose 
 you are honestly astounded, hurt perhaps, because I, 
 the fellow you graciously offered to make a cat's-paw 
 of, have turned against you? " 
 
 " Humph ! " grunted Murchell, who had listened 
 without display of feeling. " Doesn't mean much. 
 You'd have hard work proving any of it."
 
 THE PRIME MINISTER 187 
 
 " I have proved part of it. Isn't it true? " 
 
 " That isn't quite a fair question. If I say yes, I'm 
 condemned out of my own mouth. If I say no, 
 you won't believe me." 
 
 " Can you give me a reason for believing it isn't 
 true?" 
 
 " You wouldn't believe my reason. Young men," 
 said the senator sententiously, " are always pig 
 headed." 
 
 They relapsed into silence. John looked out of the 
 window, awaiting in cold silence the senator's next 
 words. Murchell preserved his usual impassive front. 
 It was not the first time he had encountered the in 
 tolerance of youth. But never before, save during 
 the Sheehan trial, had the intolerance pierced the 
 crust of the man. He measured himself against the 
 younger man. He did not sigh, as John had done; 
 but that dull regret felt during the trial he told 
 himself it was because of so much power going to 
 waste began again. 
 
 He broke the silence. " What do you want ? " 
 
 " I'm not for sale," John answered contemptuously. 
 
 " I didn't mean that. I know," Murchell said 
 grimly, " a fool when I see one. What do you want 
 to do?" 
 
 John turned to face him. " A good many things 
 you wouldn't understand. Principally, I suppose, to 
 smash you and your organization. That probably 
 sounds funny to you." 
 
 It is on record that Goliath, meeting the belligerent 
 David, laughed. Murchell did not laugh. He merely 
 felt pity for an unpractical young dreamer.
 
 i88 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 " You can't smash the organization." 
 
 " It must be smashed. Because it exists to deprive 
 the people of the right of self-government." 
 
 " A pretty phrase ! It's common-sense politics. 
 The people don't want to govern themselves they 
 can't. They need some one to take the burden from 
 them. Popular government," he spoke as one gen 
 tleman to another, in confidence, " is a farce, a dream 
 of the millenium, an ideal, impracticable. Govern 
 ment by a headless mob would be little short of an 
 archy. The men that founded this nation didn't want, 
 didn't prepare for popular government. They wanted 
 just what we've got government by those capable 
 of governing." 
 
 John remained skeptically mute. 
 
 " How are you going to smash us ? " 
 
 " It may be simpler than you think, Senator Mur- 
 chell. When the people understand what you are, 
 they'll smash you." 
 
 The other smiled pityingly. " You think because 
 you've sent a few poor devils to jail you're a man 
 of destiny, don't you? You think I'm merely a 
 wicked old fellow who's got power and is using 
 it for his own selfish ends. If I were just that, you 
 could smash me. But I'm more than that. I am an 
 institution a part of a necessary institution. One 
 that society, that property, that business can't get 
 along without. The power is mine yes ! But I 
 hold it only because it serves to protect business from 
 the little blackmailers on the one hand and the whims 
 of the people on the other. I'm what you call a boss. 
 Sentimentalists gag at the name rather than the fact. 
 But the boss is a logical evolution. He has always
 
 THE PRIME MINISTER 189 
 
 existed in some form or other he always will. For 
 he is the flywheel that gives stability to government 
 and makes possible industrial development. You 
 can smash William Murchell that is, put some one 
 in his place. But you can't smash the institution." 
 He spoke sincerely. Also he forgot certain words 
 spoken to Sackett earlier in the day. " And," he con 
 cluded, " you can't judge a system by its incidental 
 errors." 
 
 John smiled, not very happily. " I've heard that 
 before. The weakness of your argument is that the 
 errors seem to be essential. Government isn't or 
 shouldn't be merely a matter of force, nor exist only 
 as the servant of property even if all you say is 
 true. 
 
 " I don't call you a wicked old fellow," he went on 
 gravely. " I don't suppose any man is altogether bad 
 or even wholly worthless. But we have no right to 
 accept more of it than we must. We certainly 
 oughtn't to compromise with it or build upon it. 
 And I've got to go on." 
 
 " And where'll you come out? " 
 
 " I ? You will try to break me. You may suc 
 ceed. But you will observe that I have little to lose. 
 If I had much you won't understand this I hope 
 I'd lose it gladly." 
 
 "Did I say I was going to break you?" Murchell 
 demanded testily. " Why do you think I came here 
 to-day?" 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " To suggest that you come out for Wash Jenkins' 
 seat in Congress." 
 
 John's reply was almost bitter. " So I have im-
 
 190 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 pressed you as a hypocrite trying to get kicked up 
 out of the way. I repeat, I'm not for sale." 
 
 Murchell suddenly rose and put a heavy hand on 
 John's shoulder. " You said you have little to lose. 
 You have much a future. You've gone out of 
 your way to attack me you're a fool. But I I 
 like you, man. And I'd like to save that future for 
 you." 
 
 For a moment John stared at him, incredulous. 
 Was it possible that in the old politician lay some 
 thing good, something gentle? He shook off the 
 hand and rose. He went to the window, staring out 
 wonderingly. . . . He saw a strange thing 
 Jeremy Applegate stumping across the Square and 
 pausing under the flag, looking up. The veteran's 
 hand rose, as though in salute ; then, arrested midway, 
 it fell limply and Jeremy marched on. 
 
 John pointed. " There, Senator, is one who en 
 tered the service of your institution. I think he was 
 a man once. He must have been, for he risked his 
 life for a cause you were playing politics at the 
 time, I believe. Now he is a broken-spirited old man 
 with just enough soul left to be ashamed. If I be 
 came part of your machine, in the end I'd become 
 like that different in size perhaps, but the same in 
 kind. I," he said quietly, "prefer your enmity; it's 
 safer." 
 
 Murchell made no answer. He looked out of 
 the window, no flicker of feeling on the set, rugged 
 face. After a few moments of silence he turned and 
 walked, still without speaking, to the door. 
 
 " You're forgetting your hat." John took it across 
 to him. Murchell accepted it without comment.
 
 THE PRIME MINISTER 191 
 
 " And," John said, " I think I begin to under 
 stand. You represent an institution. I stand for a 
 principle, a fundamental principle. You can smash 
 John Dunmeade O, very easily, no doubt ; but, 
 Senator Murchell, you can't smash the principle ! " 
 
 The senator did not often permit himself the luxury 
 of losing his temper, but he was exceedingly close to 
 it just then. He was angry, very angry. He was 
 sure it was merely impatience with the short 
 sighted pig-headedness that would not listen to reason 
 his reason ! the impudence that dared to lec 
 ture him, the master. He would not have admitted 
 that it was because the friendship he had offered to 
 a young man whom he liked strangely well had been 
 so contemptuously rejected and the hurt was all the 
 deeper because he had broken the rule of a lifetime to 
 make the offer. He carefully waited until the emo 
 tion had subsided, before speaking. 
 
 " It's a good deal simpler to state a principle than 
 to follow it in practice. Any man sitting in his 
 library can tell you how politics ought to be run; it 
 isn't so easy when he gets out into it. And you can't 
 judge politics by one year's experience. However " 
 
 He stopped long enough to put on his hat. 
 
 : ' You went out of your way to denounce me. You 
 took a time when I'm needing friends to do it, too. 
 In spite of that I made you an offer in good faith. 
 If there's anything in you, I'd have given you the 
 chance to prove it. 
 
 " I," he concluded, and he spoke as of some divine 
 edict, fixed and immutable, " I rarely offer friendship 
 to those who fight me never twice." 
 
 He went out.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 WITH A GREAT PRICE 
 
 THE East Ridge colony was gone, scattering its 
 charms broadcast from Lakewood to Bar Har 
 bor. Only the Hampdens were left and they were 
 soon to depart, Katherine and her mother to go abroad 
 for the latter's health which, to be sure, was so good 
 as to be worth preserving. John and Haig had ar 
 ranged to make together their farewell pilgrimage to 
 the Ridge. 
 
 That evening John spent a great deal of care over 
 his toilet. It could not have been out of vanity, since 
 he surveyed very dubiously the results reflected in 
 the mirror, and since Miss Roberta had lately been 
 taking him to task for his careless dressing. She had 
 merely sniffed when he gravely informed her that it 
 did not behoove a politician to be too nattily attired. 
 This evening, however, when she carefully inspected 
 him, she was pleased to approve, and smilingly sped 
 him on his way. She did not need to inquire whither 
 that way led. 
 
 He drove to the home of Silas Hicks, where Haig, 
 wisely avoiding the hospitality of the hotel, had his 
 rooms. Somewhat to his dismay he was informed 
 that Haig had discovered some mysterious errand 
 requiring his attention, had departed a half hour 
 earlier and had left word that he would later meet 
 
 192
 
 WITH A GREAT PRICE 193 
 
 John at their Mecca. Mrs. Hicks did not say, 
 " Mecca." In New Chelsea it is a landlady's preroga 
 tive to know the comings and goings of her guests. 
 
 " That's funny," muttered John as he drove away. 
 
 It had been one of those oppressive days which Sep 
 tember often brings, and in the valley the sultriness 
 lingered. As his horse slowly climbed the Ridge 
 Road, where some air was stirring, John ought to have 
 felt relief. But he was decidedly uncomfortable. 
 He strongly suspected the validity of Haig's errand 
 and debated seriously the advisability of turn 
 ing back and sending his farewells by note, pleading 
 as excuse for his non-appearance some unexpected 
 business matter. He solemnly assured himself that 
 he was a fool, both for having dallied with unhappi- 
 ness all summer and for going now on a journey that 
 could only intensify futile longings. 
 
 He sustained the indictment by continuing his jour 
 ney. 
 
 Unmindful of the heat, Stephen Hampden was 
 pacing swiftly up and down the terrace. He was in 
 a very irritable mood. He had that day received a 
 message that a " pool " in which he was interested 
 had unexpectedly gone to smash. It was not a fatal 
 matter, but he hated to lose money. His cigar blinked 
 rapidly. When John, having entrusted his modest 
 " rig " to the groom, appeared on the terrace, Hamp 
 den confronted him. 
 
 " Good evening! " said John pleasantly. 
 
 "Evening!" growled Hampden. "Where's that 
 crazy Haig who's always tagging around with you ? " 
 
 " Isn't he here ? He'll be along later, then had 
 some errand."
 
 I 9 4 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 " I suppose you want to see Katherine? " Hamp- 
 den's tone was so ungracious that John flushed. 
 
 "Have you any objections?" he asked quietly. 
 
 Hampden stared. "Objections? Lord, no! D'you 
 think I'm a fool and you the hero in a dime novel? 
 Katherine sees whoever she wants, whether I like 
 it or not. Does that mean you're on a love-making 
 expedition ? Much good may it do you ! " he grunted. 
 " You're not my style, but I'm not worrying. She's 
 my daughter you get that? And Don Quixotes 
 have gone out of fashion." Hampden spoke with 
 more confidence than he felt, but John could not know 
 that. 
 
 John withheld the retort that sprang to his lips. 
 While they stood there in a silence that was exceed 
 ingly awkward for him Katherine appeared around 
 the corner of the house. She greeted him very 
 kindly. 
 
 "Talking to father? I'm sorry for you," she 
 laughed. " He's cross as a bear to-night." Hamp 
 den gave a good imitation of that ill-natured animal's 
 growl and, wheeling, resumed his pacing. 
 
 " Suppose," she suggested to John, " we find a cool 
 place. It's so hot indoors. Mother thinks she is worn 
 out and won't be down." 
 
 John assented, thinking, uncomfortably, that he was 
 alone with her for the first time since their moonlight 
 ride. He searched through the dusk for signs of 
 Haig. They strolled, Katherine chatting unconcern 
 edly, to a seat in a retired corner of the grounds, 
 only the fact would not have been significant to 
 John where she had sat so long after her ride with 
 Warren Blake.
 
 WITH A GREAT PRICE 195 
 
 She leaned back in one end of the seat. He sat at 
 the other, as far away from her as he could, half 
 facing her. . . . She was not really beautiful 
 her features were too firm for that yet even an 
 other than John might have been excused for think 
 ing her so in the softening light of the rising moon. 
 She was wearing a gown of some soft pale-green 
 stuff that did not hide the graceful lines of her figure. 
 The filmy scarf that she wore merely called attention 
 to the smooth white of her neck and shoulders. Her 
 hair, never conforming to the absurdities of style, was 
 braided in the simple fashion that best became her. 
 Only her eyes, softly lustrous in the pale light, marked 
 her suppressed excitement. Her arm, bare to the 
 elbow, rested on the back of the seat; he saw its easy 
 grace, the gentle curve of the relaxed fingers. 
 
 He shifted uneasily. " I wonder where that Haig 
 is?" 
 
 " You're very solicitous for your new friend. Do 
 you know, I'm rather jealous of your attractiveness. 
 He came up here presumably to be near us and he 
 has found you far more interesting. I suspect he's 
 not coming to-night. I fancy," she laughed dar 
 ingly, " he rather thinks there's something between 
 us." 
 
 " There isn't, of course." 
 
 "Of course! So there's no reason why you 
 shouldn't, at least, sit more comfortably." He man 
 aged a short laugh. " Do you realize this is the first 
 time we've been alone this summer? You have really 
 managed it very awkwardly." As though she had 
 not done all the managing ! 
 
 He had nothing to say.
 
 196 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 "Am I such an ogress? Or have you been afraid 
 that I'd propose to you again? " 
 
 " I haven't been fool enough to take that seriously," 
 he said quickly. " And I'm old enough to know the 
 danger of playing with fire. At least," he added, " I 
 ought to have known it." 
 
 "Am I fire, then?" 
 
 " I think I'd better go home," he muttered. 
 
 "You're not afraid of me, are you, John?" 
 
 " No but I see no good in adding to one's un- 
 happiness." 
 
 " Ah! Do I mean that to you? I I am sorry." 
 
 . . . He did not go. He sat, staring straight 
 ahead of him. It was true, he was not afraid of 
 her. But he could not help thinking of the months 
 to come when, with less engrossing tasks to take his 
 mind from the ache, he must renew the loneliness, 
 grown more poignant, of the last winter. He won 
 dered now at his weakness in letting himself, despite 
 his knowledge of her and of what she meant to him, 
 be drawn again within the circuit of her charm. 
 
 He became aware that she was speaking, with that 
 amazing courage which was always hers. 
 
 " I am sorry," she repeated. " I haven't been fair 
 to you. I overheard what father said to you. And 
 it's true, what he meant when he said I am his daugh 
 ter. The. things he works for are what appeal to me, 
 not the things you dream of. The prestige, the power 
 yes, the luxury the knowledge that I belong to 
 the men who are conquering, not dreams or ideals, 
 count with me. It isn't very pretty, is it, from your 
 point of view? But it's true. I I could wish it 
 were different. Last summer it was differ-
 
 WITH A GREAT PRICE 197 
 
 ent. I was trying to decide what I wanted. Since 
 one can not have everything, one must choose the 
 things that mean most to one. I I have always 
 been more or less in love with you, ever since I can re 
 member. And I saw you were beginning to care. I 
 unsexed myself, I pursued, to learn whether you were 
 what I wanted. I tried to believe, to make you be 
 lieve, that I could have you and the rest. And I don't 
 greatly blame myself for that. Because I am a 
 woman, must I sit passively by and wait for happi 
 ness to come? ... I was drifting between two 
 ideals, but struggling against it, of course to 
 ward you. Do you know, it's your fault I didn't drift 
 further? You wouldn't take me. You made a mis 
 take the night of that rally being so finical in your 
 notions of a poor man's honor. You ought to have 
 taken me in your arms and made me go to you. I 
 should have gone gladly faithfully, too. . . . 
 But you wouldn't." 
 
 He listened unresponsive to her words that, halting 
 sometimes, fell in low, measured tones with a curious, 
 underlying regret fulness. Her words could not add 
 to desire, nor the knowledge that he had mistakenly 
 held back, deepen sadness. He wondered dully if that 
 were true: that, had he taken her, she would have 
 gone to him? 
 
 ". . . Now it is too late. I've had time to 
 think, to weigh you against the other things. Last 
 winter taught me how much they mean to me. And I 
 find you wanting. This summer has not changed 
 that. What you ask costs too much." 
 
 " I ask nothing." 
 
 " True ! I forget you ask nothing. Last sum-
 
 ^198 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 mer you need not have asked. You will do me the 
 credit to remember that I ask you nothing that would 
 cost more than you are willing to pay." 
 
 " That isn't true," he said in sudden roughness. 
 " You it is why I'm a fool for having come near you 
 
 are tempting me with every word you speak." 
 "Am I tempting you, I wonder?" Her voice be 
 came uncertain. "I I beg you to believe that I 
 haven't meant it to remember that I shouldn't be 
 good for you. I have no wish to to be a Delilah." 
 
 The tremor in her voice set him to trembling. He 
 saw the hand lying in her lap clench tightly. He 
 raised his eyes to hers, holding them greedily. She 
 made a sudden shrinking movement away from him, 
 as though what she saw in his was overcoming her 
 resolution. . . . Then without conscious in 
 tention he was holding her in a close, rough clasp 
 and crying to her to go with him. She did not re 
 sist and she did not respond. She lay inert in his 
 arms, passively suffering his hot kisses, her eyes 
 closed, her face white. 
 
 "My dear, my dear! Don't you see? You're 
 fighting against the thing that means your happiness. 
 These other things that seem so big and beautiful now 
 
 in the end they'll seem small and worthless beside 
 the one supreme thing that you want, that you need. 
 I'm not afraid to ask now, for I know I can give you 
 far more than you'll ever have otherwise. And you 
 have been listening to those who don't understand. 
 What I want to do isn't so terrible. It is very sim 
 ple I can't see why a few are so strongly against it. 
 And it doesn't mean the sacrifice you think; already 
 it has brought victory and the consideration of men
 
 My dear, my dear! Don't you see?"
 
 WITH A GREAT PRICE 199 
 
 you so much desire. In the end if we have the 
 spirit to fight and wait it will bring us a thing that 
 exceeds mere power. It doesn't mean your hated 
 mediocrity. My dear, can't you see it's your chance 
 to escape my dear ! " His stammering phrases 
 halted. He became aware of her closed eyes, her un- 
 responsiveness. She opened her eyes and looked 
 at him. His rough clasp relaxed. 
 
 She shook her head and pushed herself away, lean 
 ing back in the seat. He did not try to hold her. He 
 sat awkwardly beside her, the arms that had held her 
 falling heavily, passionate eyes clinging to hers. 
 
 " Ah ! " she murmured, " I gave you the cue for 
 that, didn't !?...! am glad you did it. But 
 it is too late you can't make me want you enough." 
 
 " It isn't too late, if you care " 
 
 "Is caring everything? You know it isn't. If it 
 were, you wouldn't make conditions. You would use 
 your brains, your talents, to work out a career, you 
 would have accepted Senator Murchell's offer " 
 
 "You know of that!" 
 
 " We see him often. Do you think I haven't been 
 interested enough to find out all about you? Senator 
 Murchell is right you should have taken his ad 
 vice." 
 
 "You think that?" he cried. "Then you don't 
 care ! " 
 
 "Ah!" she said resentfully, "you can say that? 
 Do you think I could unsex myself, as I have for you, 
 for a fancy? I But you wouldn't understand." 
 The resentment died down. " If I cared less, I could 
 risk more. You make it all a matter of sentiment. 
 It is a very practical matter. Life isn't all moon-
 
 200 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 light. It is all very beautiful to give one's life to an 
 ideal. And you're very splendid now in the flush of 
 your first victory. You would be still splendid fight 
 ing a brave losing fight while you were young. But 
 when you were a broken-down, middle-aged failure, 
 cast aside, a career out of the question, do you think 
 that I It wouldn't be romantic then. I'd be al 
 ways looking up at the men I once knew, the men who 
 were conquering, doing big things, and I'd regret. 
 And I'd hate you then." 
 
 " It seems," he cried bitterly, " I inspire little confi 
 dence. I'm told by every one, before I have tried long, 
 while I am still winning, that I'm doomed to be a 
 failure!" 
 
 " Now it is you who will not see." She became 
 more gentle. " Do you think I could care for a weak 
 ling? It isn't you we distrust, but your ideal. I 
 know more of politics than I did a year ago. I've 
 read everything I could find and quizzed all the men 
 I know until they're all laughing at my interest in you. 
 I could bear that, because the interest is real. And 
 I know what every one but you sees your dream 
 will get you only disappointment. No man ever went 
 the way I know you will go in spite of me, and found 
 anything but bitterness. Even the big men who have 
 done the fine, good things for this country used the 
 forces they found at hand, compromised with evil to 
 create good. And their good stands." 
 
 Suddenly she leaned toward him and placed a hand 
 on his arm. " Look, John ! " She pointed to the 
 North Star gleaming palely in the moonlight. ' That 
 star is beautiful but it is very, very high. Can't
 
 .WITH A GREAT PRICE 201 
 
 you understand ? Ask me to go with you to the moun 
 tain top and I will go, I will help you climb; but 
 to that star and I can't." 
 
 She had shaken him, as she could always shake him, 
 set him to questioning the real value of the purpose 
 that through forces over which he had no control, as 
 it seemed, had grown until it rilled his life, excluding 
 all else. Her face, as she leaned toward him, seemed 
 very beautiful. In her eyes was the added luster of 
 waiting tears. Her hand still rested on his arm, 
 yet he found strength to answer: 
 
 " You've said it yourself caring isn't every 
 thing." 
 
 She remained in the same eager posture for a mo 
 ment, as though waiting for other words to fall; but 
 none came. Her hand fell from his arm. She sat 
 back, sighing. He leaned forward and buried his face 
 in his hands. Around them rose the shrilling of the 
 crickets and the whispering of the leaves, in the night 
 hymn. Once it had been to them a glad, inspiring 
 song ; now they heard no music in it. For a time that 
 seemed to be endless they sat thus. 
 
 At last he got to his feet, slowly. She, too, rose. 
 He stood gazing away over the hills, face uplifted 
 to the moonlight, as though he beheld some transfig 
 uring vision; he seemed almost to have forgotten her. 
 With a sudden jealous contraction of her heart she 
 realized how little of the grief she had thought to see 
 was in his look. Strength was there, the strength to 
 suffer and to withstand; and something else, almost 
 a glow, the reflection of a spirit handed down to this 
 man across the generations from an age of martyrs
 
 202 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 who were glad to pay for their faith. With a great 
 price he was paying for his faith, and it became the 
 more precious to him. 
 
 She, with her narrow experience among those to 
 whom consecration is a meaningless word and martyr 
 dom a consummation devoutly to be shunned, under 
 stood but dimly. It meant little to her; yet she saw 
 enough to know that the clean-minded, sunny-tem 
 pered young man whom she had touched had passed 
 beyond her, was then proof against her lure. In after 
 years, when understanding had come, she would often 
 think wonderingly upon him as he stood there, a Naz- 
 arite undefiled, listening with soul finely sensitive to- 
 his call. 
 
 She found the need to justify herself before him. 
 
 " At least," she said unsteadily, " you will remem 
 ber that I didn't pretend until it was too late for you 
 to escape me, and then worry you into going my way, 
 as many women have done. I'm not quite so selfish 
 as that. Am I wholly contemptible?" 
 
 He judged her generously. 
 
 " You aren't contemptible. It is only that you don't 
 love. Love doesn't haggle or try to drag down. You 
 have mistaken, honestly mistaken, something else for 
 it. If you cared but you don't. You will find that 
 out soon." 
 
 For a little she looked at him unwaveringly. Then 
 her strength seemed to wilt. 
 
 " You are right, I suppose. And I have missed a 
 great deal." 
 
 She turned and walked wearily toward the house. 
 He followed, one pace behind her. At the terrace she 
 stopped, whispered " Good-by," and went in.
 
 BOOK TWO 
 FIGS AND THISTLES
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 LOCUSTS AND WILD HONEY 
 
 A SON of the old regime, returning to New Chel 
 sea after four years, would have found vast 
 changes wrought. To begin with, he could have come 
 on the express, and he would have alighted at the new 
 yellow-brick station. Probably, being human, he 
 would have succumbed to the representations of the 
 uniformed Jehu and been whirled in the highly 
 varnished 'bus, over paved streets, to the new five- 
 story hotel, where a room with bath could be had. 
 The business " block " had expanded into a " section." 
 A prodigal quantity of paint had given the older town 
 the air of having donned its Sunday best. To the 
 north, in Blake's first addition, stood many new dwell 
 ings, more or less smart, homes of toilers in Plum- 
 ville who traveled to and from their vocations on the 
 trolley and on the way read in the daily Globe the 
 news of " our city " and of the world. The summer 
 colony on East Ridge had passed beyond the experi 
 mental stage and become a sure source of pride and , 
 income to New Chelsea. Only the court-house square 
 and the colonial mansion across Main Street, touched 
 by the pathos with which landmarks of old regimes 
 are always invested, had escaped the hand of trans 
 formation. 
 
 Nor was the prosperity thus attested merely the 
 
 205
 
 206 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 crumbs from the table of thriving Plumville. It was 
 all New Chelsea's own and it had come by the avenue 
 of Stephen Hampden's speculation. For the coal 
 company, despite the rules of the game, was a success 
 for all concerned; already it was paying dividends. 
 Hence the lifting of many mortgages and the build 
 ing of new barns in the townships. One who had re 
 fused a share in that epoch-making promotion often 
 thought with secret chagrin upon the fallibility of his 
 judgment. 
 
 But a great deal more than a " boom " can happen 
 in four years. That number of cycles saw William 
 Murchell's power shaken, totter and crash to the earth. 
 
 Ministries have been resuscitated, if not resurrected 
 from the grave. But it is indubitably true that there 
 was a period during which Murchell's hands held not 
 the reins of power. Most people credited this fact to 
 the craft of Mark Sherrod, state treasurer and the 
 new minister, and his able lieutenant, Governor Par- 
 rott. Murchell would have placed the credit or 
 blame elsewhere. Had he had the habit of dis 
 cussing his mistakes, he would have added a year to 
 our calculation and said that the initial blow had been 
 struck at his power when on a certain June day, in 
 company with Jim Sheehan, he had sought to press a 
 bright-faced young man into his service. It was well 
 he did not give voice to such an opinion ; probably, as 
 illustrating his failing powers, it would have precipi 
 tated the crash. The young man himself would have 
 smiled skeptically. 
 
 If it was your good fortune to be a resident of New 
 Chelsea at that time, you will remember how John 
 Dunmeade appeared when he was thirty-five. A
 
 LOCUSTS AND WILD HONEY 207 
 
 grave, quiet man looking older than his years, as care 
 lessly dressed as men are apt to be who are dreaming 
 of big things. His hair was beginning to thin at the 
 temples. The gray-green eyes were set deeper in their 
 sockets, over which the heavy brows hung lower. His 
 wide orator's mouth was less mobile than it had been 
 when he set out to destroy an institution. He walked 
 with a slight stoop and with less spring the long, 
 slow stride of a man who thinks much on his feet. 
 
 If you stopped to speak to him, he would smile 
 pleasantly and chat cheerfully, in a voice from which 
 much speaking in open air and draughty halls had 
 taken the " silver," about the weather or the state of the 
 crops, or, if you gave him the opening, very earnestly 
 about politics. He made it a point, however unhap 
 pily his Cause was progressing, never to seem down 
 cast. You would leave him, probably thinking it a 
 pity that such an attractive man should be so unprac 
 tical and the object of so many bitter and powerful 
 enmities. Express this thought to the next passer-by, 
 and you would be answered with a shrug of indiffer 
 ence, angry denunciation or cautious defense, repre 
 senting the divisions of public opinion. If the truth 
 must be told, New Chelsea was more than a little dis 
 appointed in John Dunmeade. 
 
 His health was not always good. He had suffered 
 a serious illness during one winter and, between the 
 duties of office, the cares of a growing private prac 
 tice and the incessant labors of politics, his body had 
 been sadly overtaxed. He was still district attor 
 ney, last trophy of the reform wave that had swept 
 over the shattered machine. He had suffered many 
 disillusionments. The ticket nominated so easily and
 
 208 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 subsequently elected had proved a disappointment; its 
 mutual jealousies, conceited unreasonableness and sus 
 ceptibility to machine blandishments had aroused a 
 general disgust. Under the leadership of Greene, an 
 ex-gambler and former lieutenant of Sheehan, less 
 obviously the brute and far shrewder than the deposed 
 boss, the Plumville organization had risen from its 
 ashes. New Chelsea and the townships remained di- 
 minishingly loyal to John, but with the majorities from 
 Plumville, which had sunk back into characteristic 
 lethargy, Greene had recaptured all the county offices, 
 except when John, a candidate for reelection, had 
 won through personal popularity and by scant margin 
 for himself what he could not obtain for his other can 
 didates. 
 
 Politics is a hard taskmaster. John found poor 
 compensation in the fact that he had become well 
 known throughout the state. The year after the Ben- 
 ton County reform he had joined himself to the cause 
 of Judge Gray, an honest and capable lawyer who 
 dared to ask the Republican nomination for governor 
 against the organization's choice. With the judge 
 John made a vigorous stumping campaign in every 
 county of the state. He was new, he was enthusias 
 tic, he was daring. People listened. Parrott was 
 nominated easily according to the " slate." But here 
 and there, especially in the farm counties, interest had 
 been awakened in the young fellow who spoke so well 
 and so forcefully. A few even carried interest to 
 the extreme of thinking seriously of what he had 
 said. 
 
 Judge Dunmeade was not nominated to the su 
 preme court that year; hence the breach of a lifelong
 
 LOCUSTS AND WILD HONEY 209 
 
 friendship, increased bitterness against his son and 
 many I-told-you-sos from Miss Roberta. 
 
 Before long others began to take an interest in the 
 man who, " crazy as Jerry Brent," so persistently at 
 tacked the bosses of his party, who spoke and wrote in 
 season and out, preaching his gospel of political right 
 eousness. The interest was not always friendly. Oc 
 casional ironical editorials appeared with him as the 
 target ; politicians sneered at him ; nasty rumors, which 
 after a few futile attempts he ceased to answer, bobbed 
 about concerning his personal life. 
 
 But John preached on. He did more than attack; 
 he devised and proffered remedies with a naive dis 
 regard of the conservative habit of the American mind 
 that incited mirth in some, apprehension in others and 
 bewilderment in still others. He was not narrow; 
 when other Voices devised other remedies, he cheer 
 fully substituted them for, or added them to his own. 
 " Dunmeade's platform " became a standing joke 
 among the politicians. It is not necessary here to 
 enumerate its articles. They have since become re 
 spectable. 
 
 His understanding of politics was far deeper than 
 when he chose a smooth, round pebble for his sling 
 and went forth to slay a giant. He now saw beyond 
 the champion into the Philistine camp. He was learn 
 ing, in common with other young iconoclasts, some 
 thing of the existence and character and aims of the 
 personal government which lay behind the formal, 
 and of the marvelously woven system by which the 
 dominant personalities twisted the form of govern 
 ment to their purpose. Being a young man who 
 thought himself inspired, he was aghast and the
 
 2IO 
 
 more determined to destroy that system. Not wholly 
 lacking a sense of proportion, he realized the temerity 
 of him who undertook such wholesale destruction. 
 
 But his youthful optimism had not failed, and he 
 had evolved a simple theory from which neither at 
 tack, argument nor failure could lure him. The peo 
 ple were really good and supremely desired good ; 
 political and social ills were accidents and existed only 
 because of popular ignorance of their import; the ills 
 in question were extremely evident to any one looking 
 in their direction. Ergo, all that was necessary was 
 to call the people's attention to the machine and its 
 relation to wealth, and the people would do the rest; 
 an enlightened public conscience was an invincible 
 and unerring force. His task was to expound the 
 machine to the people of his state. 
 
 He was, it must be confessed, rather staggered at 
 times, receiving some fresh evidence of the reluctance 
 of the public conscience to be enlightened. 
 
 Nevertheless he held on. And he used characteris 
 tic means. Compromises and deals he rejected as 
 scornfully as he had rebuffed Murchell. His weapon 
 was truth; its brightness must not be stained nor its 
 edge dulled by dalliance with evil! For, he said, 
 grapes do not grow on thorns nor figs on thistles. 
 
 Always he saw victory just one year ahead. 
 
 In those days to be exact, three years after the 
 destruction of the Sheehan machine the political 
 seas began to toss angrily. Heavy, ominous clouds 
 hung over the horizon. There was strife in the or 
 ganizations of both parties. Upon the devoted heads 
 of Murchell and Duffy, the respective bosses, hurtled 
 abuse from strange quarters. Anxious cries rang
 
 LOCUSTS AND WILD HONEY 211 
 
 from the deck of the ship Murchell had steered so 
 long. Then the storm burst. 
 
 The biennial election of a state treasurer was at 
 hand. There appeared to John one day a plausible 
 gentleman who discussed the troubled waters. He 
 was in a state of righteous indignation. Murchell's 
 domination had continued too long! Patience with 
 his tyrannical ways had ceased to be a virtue. His 
 unfitness had been proved by his breach of contract to 
 let Sherrod succeed Beck. And he, the messenger, 
 was glad to say, in confidence, that those able and dis 
 tinguished patriots and leaders, Mark Sherrod and 
 Philander Parrott, were organizing a revolt and pro 
 posed to make the treasurership nomination a test of 
 strength. And they had commissioned him to urge 
 that other able, etc., John Dunmeade, the man who 
 had " licked Murchell in his own backyard," to join 
 the reform. He was deeply hurt when John refused. 
 
 Haig, who also had made New Chelsea his legal 
 residence, invented sundry lurid epithets to describe 
 John's folly and urged reconsideration. John shook 
 his head. 
 
 " But I thought you wanted to put Murchell out of 
 business ? " 
 
 " Not Murchell. I've grown past that. I'm rather 
 sorry for him just now. And I'd rather have him 
 run things than Sherrod. It's the institution we've 
 got to destroy as he told me himself once. Noth 
 ing's gained if we substitute one boss for another." 
 
 " Then what are you going to do, my destructive 
 friend?" 
 
 " Try to slip in between them, I think put up an 
 independent candidate."
 
 212 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 " Ouch ! " Haig's hands gave a pantomimic illus 
 tration of the grinding upper and nether millstones. 
 
 "Do those gyrations perhaps mean something?" 
 
 " I'm thinking," Haig grinned, " what'll happen to 
 you when you're caught between them. There won't 
 be enough left of you to bring home." 
 
 " I suppose not," John grinned back. 
 
 Haig stared. " You suppose not ! Then why the 
 devil are you going into it ? " 
 
 " Somebody's got to keep on fighting," John said, 
 almost shamefacedly; oft-encountered skepticism was 
 rendering him reluctant to put his ideals into words. 
 " And there isn't likely to be anybody else." 
 
 " O sugar ! " With which mild expletive Haig 
 left him. 
 
 John made his campaign. When the primaries had 
 been held, he was himself astonished to discover that 
 nearly a quarter of the delegates chosen were pledged 
 to his independent candidate. 
 
 He went to the now historic convention. The night 
 before it convened he spent in his modest rooms try 
 ing to keep his Spartan band intact against the two- 
 sided attacks made upon it. But he could not give 
 the quality of encouragement they required. In par 
 lor A of the State Hotel sat Murchell and in parlor 
 B of the Lochinvar sat Sherrod, recklessly bidding 
 against each other for votes. In thronged, smoke- 
 reeking lobbies excitement and avarice ran high. 
 Men boasted almost openly of the amounts they had 
 received for their pledges. The most admired was 
 he who, slapping first one fat pocket and then another, 
 fatter, declared, " This is Murchell and this Sher- 
 rocM " Rumors of a coup d'etat planned for the
 
 LOCUSTS AND WILD HONEY 213 
 
 morning were rife; and coups d'etat meant plunder! 
 Between the two headquarters the delegates, in a sick 
 ening frenzy of greed, hovered like flies between two 
 honey-pots. Before daylight John learned that he had 
 been used to draw delegates from Murchell for Sher- 
 rod's purpose; he saw his band dwindle to a faithful 
 handful. 
 
 When the convention met, Sherrod was in control. 
 After the preliminaries John, answering to the roll- 
 call of counties, placed his candidate in nomination 
 in a speech that could hardly be heard for jeers and 
 cat-calls. It was brought to an abrupt conclusion by 
 a yell from the gallery, " Sit down, sonny. Only 
 money talks in this convention ! " Even the delegates 
 joined in the roar of laughter. And then the coup 
 was accomplished. The Parrott-Sherrod candidate 
 was withdrawn and Sherrod himself substituted. 
 Amid confusion that mounted almost to a riot he was 
 nominated. As the chairman announced the result, 
 the tumult subdued. All eyes sought Murchell. 
 There was a momentary hush, as though even the 
 greed-sodden delegates felt a pathos in this overthrow 
 of a strong man. Then riot broke out anew. . . . 
 
 A non-partizan candidate was put up that fall. 
 John and Jerry Brent were most active in his support. 
 They made what was said to be a remarkable cam 
 paign. A cartoon, representing them as two long- 
 legged boys leaping over mountains and valleys and 
 scattering speeches broadcast with both hands, did 
 not much overdraw. And in every county they were 
 met with tremendous enthusiasm. People flocked by 
 thousands to hear them and cheered themselves hoarse 
 as the young orators excoriated the bosses.
 
 214 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 John, who had entered the campaign with little 
 thought of victory, found hope rising within him, 
 came to believe they would win. On the night before 
 election he was quoted in the newspapers as saying 
 solemnly, " The people will win. They have dis 
 cerned a principle." . . . It is one thing to se 
 cure an audience ; it is quite another to get votes. On 
 election day the people marched to the polls, voted as 
 they had always done and elected the Republican 
 ticket by a majority of more than one hundred thou 
 sand. 
 
 That campaign fixed John's place firmly in the pub 
 lic mind. This place, one that a practical man would 
 have thought twice before seeking, was won at the 
 cost of much of his buoyant optimism. It almost cost 
 him his life also. A heavy cold contracted during the 
 last days of the campaign eventually settled into a 
 stubborn case of pneumonia. There were many anx 
 ious days in the Dunmeade home. Nor was Miss 
 Roberta's anxiety unshared. Through three consecu 
 tive nights Hugh Dunmeade never sought his couch, 
 but kept a constant vigil by his son's bedside, listening 
 to the painful breathing and, without protest, to the 
 reproaches of an inner voice. Exposure in the cold 
 room aggravated his rheumatism, but Miss Roberta, 
 strangely enough, did not scold him. When the 
 Christmas holidays arrived John was still confined to 
 his room. 
 
 That winter Senator Murchell varied his program 
 by spending the congressional recess at his legal resi 
 dence. 
 
 And one Sunday morning he came face to face with 
 the judge and Miss Roberta in the vestibule of the
 
 LOCUSTS AND WILD HONEY 215 
 
 Presbyterian Church. It was the first meeting in more 
 than two years. 
 
 "Why, how do you do, Roberta?" said the sena 
 tor. " How are you, Judge ? " 
 
 There was none of the season's good will in the 
 answers. 
 
 " How do you do?" echoed Miss Roberta. 
 
 " Good morning, sir," said the judge. 
 
 " I'm not sure," smiled the senator genially, with 
 conciliatory intent, " whether your greeting, Judge, is 
 judicial or extrajudicial." 
 
 But the pun was lost on his audience and the olive 
 branch ignored. 
 
 The judge glared glacially. " I should like nothing 
 better than to meet you judicially, sir." 
 
 " I don't doubt it," replied the senator meekly. 
 He turned to Miss Roberta. " How is John? " 
 
 " He is better." 
 
 " The doctor tells me he ought to go South and 
 won't. If it's on account of er money matters," 
 the senator looked carefully out into the street, " I'll 
 be glad to help out." 
 
 Miss Roberta seemed to add several inches to her 
 stature. " We hardly expected this from you." 
 
 " This is personal only," Murchell hastened to de 
 fend himself. " I wouldn't lift a finger for him po 
 litically. But I want him to live long enough to reap 
 the reward of his folly." His tone implied that John's 
 life would not be brightened by the prospect of that 
 reward. 
 
 " No, sir," the judge put in stiffly. " If John needs 
 money, it is my right to provide it." It had not oc 
 curred to him before to exercise the right.
 
 216 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 "Stuff!" said the senator. "I know how you're 
 fixed, Hugh. You can't afford it. I can." 
 
 " We Dunmeades, Senator Murchell, don't accept 
 charity from our political enemies." 
 
 " Our political enemies ! Have you turned re 
 former, Judge ? " Murchell inquired innocently. " I 
 thought you didn't believe in agitation." 
 
 " At least, my son is an honorable gentleman," the 
 judge retorted. " He doesn't go about deceiving his 
 friends with promises he has no intention of keeping." 
 Here the- judge certainly scored. 
 
 " He deceived me. Or rather," Murchell corrected 
 himself honestly, " he let me deceive myself." 
 
 " Both of you," Miss Roberta interpolated, " are 
 taking too much for granted. John isn't a pauper." 
 
 " His kind of politics doesn't cost much money." 
 Beyond a doubt it was a field day for the judge. 
 
 " Maybe his kind isn't worth much," Murchell re 
 turned sententiously. 
 
 "If you old children want to stand here quarreling 
 in the house of God, you may," said Miss Roberta im 
 patiently. " I'm going in. Good morning, Will Mur 
 chell." 
 
 The judge stiffly followed her, leaving the breach 
 wider than ever. Neither gentleman, we may suspect, 
 heard much of the sermon that morning. 
 
 Later, Miss Roberta and her brother were sitting 
 before their library fire, waiting for dinner. Conver 
 sation had lagged. 
 
 " Did you notice," she broke the silence abruptly, 
 " how poorly Will Murchell was looking this morn 
 
 ing? 
 
 She was astonished at the mildness of the reply.
 
 LOCUSTS AND WILD HONEY 217 
 
 " I was thinking of that, Roberta. Do you sup 
 pose his offer was his way of holding out a flag of 
 truce ? " 
 
 " I have a suspicion that it was, Hugh." 
 
 " I wonder," he continued, " how far we ought to 
 distinguish between the politician and the man?" 
 
 " The politician is the man." 
 
 " Not always," the judge contradicted. " Often he 
 is just the man bent out of shape by his environ 
 ment." 
 
 " Humph! John isn't bent out of shape." 
 
 This was incontrovertible, and the judge turned 
 the drift of the discussion. " I wish," he sighed, 
 " they could work in harmony. It looks as though 
 Sherrod has beaten William. And Sherrod is a 
 a damned rascal, Roberta. It's a terrible condition 
 when the Republican party falls into the hands of 
 such a man. I suppose," he added irrelevantly, " after 
 all, I'm not big enough to fill a justiceship." 
 
 " Can you be as charitable to your son ? " she de 
 manded. 
 
 " John," declared the judge, with ill-concealed 
 pride, " doesn't need charity from me or any one else. 
 Only justice. He's an honest but misguided man." 
 
 At another time Miss Roberta narrated the two 
 conversations to John. His only comment was a 
 shake of the head and, "If only human nature could 
 be reduced to thumb rules ! " 
 
 " It can't," said Miss Roberta wisely. " Don't try 
 it." 
 
 " Haig," John smiled, " says that's my weakness 
 trying to explain and convince people by the obvious. 
 I'm sometimes afraid he's right."
 
 218 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 Others than Senator Murchell overstepped a cus 
 tom to spend the Yule-tide in New Chelsea. To John, 
 by way of Haig and Miss Roberta, came rumors of a 
 very gay House party on the Ridge that had been led 
 by some strange whim to experience the novelty of a 
 country Christmas. 
 
 John was alone in his room one day, reading, when 
 his aunt, nose and ears still tingling from the Decem 
 ber frost, entered. In her arms reposed a bulky, 
 heavily-wrapped parcel. Without explanation and 
 with an air of deep mystery she knelt before the fire 
 and began to undo the numerous wrappings. At last, 
 to John's curious eyes was revealed an armful of red 
 roses. He exclaimed his pleasure with all the empha 
 sis demanded by the occasion and her evident delight 
 in the offering. 
 
 " But where did you get them ? You haven't been 
 breaking into somebody's greenhouse, have you? Or 
 my gracious, Aunt Roberta ! have you taken to 
 beaux again ? " 
 
 She ignored both suggestions as beneath contempt. 
 
 " I've been up on the Ridge." 
 
 "On the Ridge!" 
 
 " Such goings on ! Grown-ups sliding down hill 
 on a bobsled. And enjoying it!" The offense 
 against good taste evidently lay in the enjoyment. 
 
 " Maybe that's why they do it," he laughed. " Did 
 I understand you to say," carelessly, " the flowers 
 came from up there? " 
 
 " I went to call," she explained, " on Katherine 
 Hampden. They were asking about you and some 
 body suggested sending flowers. So that little Miss
 
 LOCUSTS AND WILD HONEY 219 
 
 Haines went over the house and got together all they 
 had." 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 " Katherine helped her," she added. " She sug 
 gested it." 
 
 " That was very good of her." 
 
 Miss Roberta, still on her knees, straightened up 
 suddenly. 
 
 " John, she isn't engaged yet." 
 
 " Isn't she ? Now that's an interesting and impor 
 tant piece of news," he answered briskly. " How do 
 you know it ? " 
 
 " I asked her." 
 
 " Undoubtedly," he laughed, " you have the cour 
 age of your curiosity." 
 
 " Why isn't she engaged ? " Miss Roberta de 
 manded. 
 
 " Is that a conundrum ? Probably, I should say, 
 because she hasn't found any one with the required 
 combination of talents and possessions. Or it may 
 be she has found him and he let us not be too un- 
 gallant doesn't know it. Such things happen, you 
 know." 
 
 " John, it isn't too late for you." 
 
 " It isn't too why, my gracious ! Aunt Roberta, 
 have you been mistaking me all this time for the love 
 lorn hero of the melodrammer? You're a very persist 
 ent person, I see. But it was always too late. She likes 
 nice, sleek, prosperous gentlemen. Honestly now, 
 you could never fit that description to me, could you ? " 
 He laughed very heartily. 
 
 She looked at him keenly, rose to her feet and went
 
 220 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 down-stairs to procure a vase for the flowers. When 
 she returned, he was staring oddly at them. What 
 she read in his expression was not at all mirth. She 
 began to fill the vase. 
 
 " Suppose," he interrupted the operation, abruptly, 
 " you take the flowers down-stairs. They the odor 
 is a little too heavy." 
 
 " I thought," she said quietly, " your laugh was 
 overdone. John, how much had your politics to do 
 with it?" 
 
 " A little. She thinks I am a fool. I've found," 
 he added, " that that opinion isn't peculiar to her." 
 
 " John," she pleaded wistfully, " why won't you 
 quit? You've done enough." 
 
 " Down in your heart, do you want me to quit, 
 Aunt Roberta?" 
 
 " Politics has been the ruination of our family. It 
 made your grandfather a scheming, selfish hypocrite. 
 It's made Hugh a bumptious, egotistic place-seeker 
 and a disappointed, saddened old man. And it's mak 
 ing you " 
 
 "What is it making me?" 
 
 " O, we Dunmeades are all fools ! " 
 
 " We ' Dunmeades ' ! You know you never did a 
 foolish thing in your life, Aunt Roberta," he smiled. 
 
 " Yes, I did," she answered grimly. "I I like 
 your kind of foolishness." 
 
 Reckless of scratching thorns and fragile stems, she 
 snatched up the roses, so roughly as to send a shower 
 of crimson petals to his feet, and started to leave him. 
 But he reached out and caught her by the arm. 
 
 " Aunt Roberta," he said, with a flash of the boy 
 ishness he had almost lost, " you're the worst hum-
 
 LOCUSTS AND WILD HONEY 221 
 
 bug in Christendom. You think you're crabbed and 
 cranky and practical, when really you're just a gen 
 erous, great-hearted, romantic old dear. You think 
 you've missed something big and wonderful and you're 
 afraid I'm missing it, too. Maybe you have. Maybe 
 I am. But there are more ways than one of finding 
 romance and happiness. Just because one of them 
 fizzles out is no excuse for going through life posing 
 the grand, gloomy and peculiar. So leave me to my 
 reforming and don't fret about me. I have confuted 
 all the poets. I solemnly declare, I am not an un 
 happy man." 
 
 " Are you telling the truth ? " she asked quietly. 
 
 The flash of boyishness subsided. " I think I am," 
 he answered gravely. 
 
 But afterward, when she had gone, he carefully 
 gathered up the fallen petals and tossed them into the 
 fire. He watched them quickly shrivel and disappear..
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE FORERUNNER 
 
 HE went South. The doctor had prescribed three 
 months' rest. John was back in New Chelsea 
 in one, preparing with dogged energy to begin a new 
 campaign against the state machine. That the giant 
 he must attack was now Sherrod, not Murchell, to his 
 mind but increased the need for fighting. 
 
 The campaign that followed was but a weary repe 
 tition of other years, without the stimulus of hope. 
 The spasm of enthusiasm past, the people had sunk 
 back into habitual lack of interest. Vainly John 
 struggled to impress upon the state the vitality of his 
 issue; toward the end of the campaign close observers 
 began to detect a tinge of personal bitterness in his 
 charges against Sherrod and Murchell. The only 
 notable political feature of that year was the quiet 
 contest within the organization between the old boss 
 and the new ; a struggle in which Murchell was forced 
 to yield. 
 
 It is easy enough to cite the length of time required 
 for the building of Rome. But when a man sees the 
 best years of his life slipping away with no accomplish 
 ment ; when he has suffered not only denunciation and 
 misrepresentation, which are not easy to bear, but also 
 treachery and ridicule, which are harder, and misun 
 derstanding and indifference from the people he is 
 
 222
 
 THE FORERUNNER 223 
 
 trying to serve, which are hardest of all; when he has 
 seen a few promising harvests wither fruitless to the 
 earth: he needs more than old saws to sustain his 
 courage. He can not be greatly blamed for wanting 
 sometimes to " chuck the game," as Haig put it to 
 John one evening. 
 
 It was early winter again. Haig and John were in 
 the latter's office. The rows of books and battered, 
 easy furniture, lighted up by the student lamp and 
 the fire in the open iron stove, made a very com 
 fortable lounging-place for men who were not 
 sybaritic in tastes, and they often foregathered there. 
 The bantering friendship between them, grown deeper 
 as the years passed, had been worth more to John than 
 he quite realized. 
 
 " Why don't you chuck the game ? " 
 
 "Politics?" 
 
 " Yes. What's the use ? You've given up the five 
 best years of your life for nothing. You've got 
 just far enough to be hated, but not feared, by both 
 gangs. You're laughed at as a freak, denounced as 
 dangerous, lied about Why, do you know, the 
 other day in the Steel City I heard you were keeping 
 a woman " 
 
 John flushed. " There isn't any truth " 
 
 " Don't I know that ? But others are willing to be 
 lieve it. We're all glad enough to think ill of a good 
 man, nasty, greasy hypocrites that we are, with our 
 surreptitiously vicious lives ! Bah ! " Haig spit dis 
 gustedly. " And where's it brought you ? Nowhere ! 
 You're further back than you were four years ago. 
 The novelty's worn off, the dear pee-pul's tired of 
 hearing you and they believe that somehow you're
 
 ^224 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 worse than an anarchist. And you're even going 
 to be kicked out of office here next spring 
 do you know that ? You're breaking down your 
 health. You're doing the work of three men and a 
 small boy for nothing ! This county is growing 
 there's going to be plenty of law business. And you 
 could be the biggest lawyer around here you are 
 that now in point of ability, though the Lord 
 knows where you find time to study your cases. Why 
 don't you chuck it ? " 
 
 John merely shook his head, smiling. 
 
 " I don't mean, to go over to one of the gangs. 
 Throw the whole thing overboard. Stick to business, 
 save money and grow old comfortably and lazily in 
 stead of by leaps and bounds, as you are now. Why, 
 you're only thirty-five and you look forty-five ! " 
 
 " I know all that. I might think of it, if there 
 was any one to take my place." 
 
 " Your place ! What right have you to think you're 
 the Lord's Anointed ? " 
 
 " None at all, judging by my lack of success, I sup 
 pose." 
 
 " Exactly ! It gets nothing either for you or your 
 cause. Serving the people is the most worthless, 
 thankless job in the world." 
 
 "You besotted cynic!" John laughed. "What if 
 we don't get any farther forward? We can't let 'em 
 have the state by default, can we? And it isn't alto 
 gether thankless. Once in a while I run into men like 
 Cranshawe or Criswell or Sykes. When I see how 
 they depend on me, I I have to stick it out. It isn't 
 necessarily worthless, either. I've generally found 
 that if you hold on to the breaking-point, and then
 
 THE FORERUNNER 225 
 
 hold on a little longer, things get easier all of a sud 
 den." 
 
 " Sunday-school aphorisms ! When you're holding 
 on to the tail of a mule and it begins to kick, you 
 don't hold on, do you? The trouble with you is, you 
 don't know when you're kicked out. But I suppose," 
 Haig growled his disgust, " there's no use talking to 
 a fanatic. What's to be the next slaughter of the in 
 nocents? " 
 
 " We elect a governor next year." 
 
 "And where'll you find a candidate?" 
 
 " Well," John said cheerfully, " I could run my 
 self, you know." 
 
 " And offer 'em more bread pills, eh ? " He re 
 ferred to " Dunmeade's platform." Haig was trying 
 to decide whether he was a socialist or not, hence was 
 critical of all remedies and theories. 
 
 " I suppose you are thinking of your brotherhood 
 as a substitute ? " 
 
 " Not my brotherhood ! " Haig snorted. " I 
 wouldn't have the dolts you call the people as my 
 brothers. They're interesting to me only as a study 
 in asininity. You're more of a socialist than I am, 
 with your notions of service and reward measured by 
 social value. Only you're afraid of the name. No 
 wonder nobody wants your pellets! If there's any 
 thing wrong at all, it's in our vitals and requires real 
 medicine. The trouble with this nation is, we were 
 suckled on the sanctity of the individual, gilded self 
 ishness. We've gone daft on the rights of individual 
 strength. We're every man thinking only of his own 
 desires which we call rights consequently we 
 don't give a hang about the rights of other individuals.
 
 226 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 What can you expect of a people whose very ideal is 
 concentrated selfishness?" 
 
 " But, Haig, most of us earn all we get," John in 
 terposed mildly. 
 
 " More, man, more ! But that's because the strong 
 individuals who run things compel us to, so they may 
 reap our sowing. We protect, make it easy for 
 those men, because we all think we're strong and hope 
 to follow their example. We're afraid to cramp the 
 other fellow for fear we bind ourselves. Your dainty 
 nostrils are offended because some men take bribes, oth 
 ers misuse government and a few boss the rest of us. 
 And you offer the initiative, direct primaries, pub 
 licity of campaign funds, government control and 
 more tommyrot! You can't see that political corrup 
 tion is the logical, inevitable result in a nation where 
 nobody is thinking of anybody but himself." 
 
 " But the people don't understand that's all." 
 
 " Not understand ! You can say that ! Do you 
 suppose there's an intelligent man in the state who 
 doesn't know that you have as much brains and ca 
 pacity for government, and far more character, than 
 either Murchell or Sherrod or any of their tribe? 
 Yet they turn you down for them every time. Why? 
 Because the Murchells and the Sherrods represent the 
 people. You don't. Ninety-nine out of a hundred 
 men, all over the nation, have a pretty clear notion of 
 what's going on in politics and government, and they 
 have a rudimentary social instinct that tells them it is 
 wrong. Sometimes that incipient sense gets them in 
 terested in a reform, but the interest lasts only for 
 about one campaign. Just as you have found it. We 
 don't really care. We don't want things changed.
 
 THE FORERUNNER 227 
 
 Because politics as it is, exactly represents the national 
 and personal ideals of the people. The trouble is, we 
 are living in a social state when we can't think, much 
 less feel, socially." 
 
 "But" 
 
 " Here, I have the floor. Things are rotten 
 yes! There's a stink in every plane of our national 
 life. You can better them in two ways. You can 
 choose the brotherhood and we may put that aside 
 as possible only after a process of civilization as slow 
 as the one that evolved that polished egoist, the Amer 
 ican citizen. Or you can use the means you find to 
 hand the only way the world has ever been bettered 
 by the big despots who looked at means in the 
 light of the end and kicked the people forward. You 
 think you have a purpose in life, to clean up this 
 state and help make government in fact the social 
 agency it is in theory. Well, then play the game 
 as you find it, make of yourself a despot. And when 
 you have your power, use it to win compromises from 
 the other strong ones, and to give the people just as 
 much as they are able to use and enjoy. Among a 
 selfish people only a supreme, practical egoist can lead. 
 Selfishness is the only thing they understand, therefore, 
 it is the only thing they will follow." 
 
 Haig sat back, relighting his pipe. " Gosh ! " he 
 grinned. " Reminds me of my college debating so 
 ciety. But I mean it," he added earnestly. 
 
 John smiled faintly. He leaned forward and 
 caught up the poker, absently jabbing the coals in the 
 stove. The flames leaped, lighting up the thought- 
 lined face, both refined and strengthened by the years. 
 Haig, whose business it was to read faces, thought he
 
 228 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 saw in John's almost sadness; he wondered if the fu 
 tile battling had meant more suffering than had ap 
 peared. John was thinking of another time when, 
 out of her ignorance, a young woman had stumbled, 
 far less cleverly, upon the same theory. 
 
 He stirred the fire, without speaking, until the 
 poker was red hot and the dancing flames hummed in 
 the iron stove. "Can you add to that?" he said at 
 last. 
 
 " I can elaborate." 
 
 " You needn't. I have thought of it all and more. 
 I think you have hit upon the root of the matter. Our 
 politics does reflect our national aspirations or lack 
 of them. And a boss such as you speak of, a man 
 who could hold and use power without succumbing 
 to its temptations, could accomplish much. At least, 
 I think so ; we have none of the sort. But not all 
 one must build from the bottom upward. The na 
 tion can be saved from its sins neither by strong indi 
 viduals nor by mechanical systems. Only by the 
 aroused moral sense of the people, a realization and 
 acceptance of political responsibility. And a man 
 can't very successfully preach political morality un 
 less he practises it." 
 
 Haig threw up his hands in a gesture of desperation. 
 " You're so stuck on your job of being a voice in the 
 wilderness that you won't listen to common sense. 
 You're too infernally near perfection to be true. Will 
 you kindly step outside and steal a chicken or cut a 
 throat or commit some other little human sin ? " 
 
 John did not seem to notice the interruption. 
 " After all," he said slowly, as though he were think 
 ing aloud, " a man has to serve in the way for which
 
 THE FORERUNNER 229 
 
 he's best fitted. I don't think I'm cut out for a boss, 
 Haig. And we can never be a brotherhood until we 
 are made to feel it and a few men are willing to 
 live it." 
 
 Haig growled again. " Brotherhood piffle ! 
 Service who wants your service ? What you need 
 is some woman to come along and marry you out of 
 hand and teach you common sense. Why didn't you 
 marry Katherine Hampden when you had the 
 chance? " 
 
 " I never really had the chance," John replied 
 calmly. 
 
 " O, go to the devil ! " And with characteristic 
 abruptness Haig rose and walked out of the office. 
 
 A minute later he reappeared, to demand, " Do you 
 still want to?" 
 
 " Want to what ? " said John, so blankly that Haig 
 again recommended the devil as his ultimate destina 
 tion and withdrew. 
 
 Out in the street he stopped long enough to look 
 back through the window. John was still absently 
 jabbing the coals. It seemed to the man outside that 
 the hint of sadness in the firelit face had deepened, as 
 though John, left alone, were facing and yielding to 
 the dejection he never let others see. Haig shook his 
 head and passed on, muttering to the snowy night: 
 
 " I have seen a miracle. A man who has tested yet 
 believes in the people, and who has loved the same 
 woman through five years. I wonder how long his 
 courage will hold out ? " 
 
 John drew up to the desk and began a letter. It 
 did not progress rapidly. His pen had gone as far as, 
 " Replying to your favor of the 2Oth inst.," when it
 
 230 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 fell unnoticed from his fingers. He returned to his 
 contemplation of the fire. 
 
 He was thinking of Katherine Hampden. He had 
 been thinking of her a great deal lately, after a long 
 period in which he had kept the remembrance of her 
 in the secret, rarely-opened chamber of his innermost 
 consciousness. 
 
 Strong men and women, romanticists to the con 
 trary notwithstanding, do not die from disappoint 
 ment in love; they do not permit it to wreck their 
 lives nor even allow themselves the weak indulgence 
 of sorrowful brooding. They turn to work, that 
 panacea of all ills of the heart, and in absorbing other 
 interests find surcease from suffering. Thus had 
 John ruled himself and he had been amazed to 
 learn, in infrequent moments of relaxation and self- 
 examination, how heavy a load a man can carry with 
 out staggering. It did not occur to him that he might 
 find elsewhere a more fruitful love. 
 
 It had been the easier to bury, if not completely 
 to forget the past, because Katherine's life and his 
 had not often crossed. One summer she and her 
 mother had been abroad. During other summers, 
 not wholly by design, he had found it convenient to 
 be away most of the time. They had met once in 
 New Chelsea, a casual, brief meeting on the street in 
 the presence of others. The incident of the flowers 
 has been told. Another time he and Haig, going 
 down to the city for the luxury of an evening of 
 opera, had seen her in one of the boxes; he had re 
 sisted Haig's importunities to present themselves. 
 And then one day, a week before the conversation 
 just narrated, they had accidently met.
 
 THE FORERUNNER 231 
 
 He was in the Steel City to deliver his lecture on 
 Civic Responsibility before one of the reform bodies 
 that discussed but did nothing to alleviate the city's 
 ills. For early luncheon he went into a restaurant 
 where elaborate trappings and service enabled the 
 patron to ignore the moderately well cooked food and 
 immoderately high prices. 
 
 As he was passing through the foyer, he came face 
 to face with Katherine Hampden and another lady, 
 whose attire proclaimed her one of fashion's elect. 
 There was a moment's hesitation and then impulsively 
 Katherine held out her hand. Mutual inquiries con 
 cerning each other's health followed, were satisfac 
 torily answered, and Katherine introduced him to 
 her companion. Mrs. Deland nodded distantly, as 
 from a great height, down upon the rather countri 
 fied-looking man who carried the queer, black slouch 
 hat. 
 
 " This is the Mr. Dunmeade," Katherine explained. 
 
 " O, indeed ! " was the murmured answer, accom 
 panied by a vacuous smile. Mrs. Deland, it was 
 clear, had never heard of " the Mr. Dunmeade." 
 Just then another group entered the foyer and with 
 scant ceremony she escaped to join them. 
 
 Katherine flushed slightly and her head went up 
 a little higher defiantly, John thought. " Cat ! " 
 she said spitefully. "You don't mind, do you?" 
 
 His answer was sufficiently careless to satisfy her 
 on this point, and the inquiries were extended to in 
 clude the members of their respective families. 
 
 " Rose in bloom," he thought with truth. He did 
 not give the credit to the beautiful hat or the per 
 fectly tailored suit or the expensive furs. He was
 
 232 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 thinking only of the woman. There was about her 
 still the same splendor of health and strength; also, 
 he told himself, a deeper womanliness. In her man 
 ner was more repose, less of the suggestion of hard 
 ness that, even in moments when he had most felt 
 her attraction, had been so palpable. He wondered 
 at it. He knew that she had had all those things 
 which she desired, for which she had chosen against 
 him. 
 
 The inquiries were exhausted. There was another 
 moment of uncertainty. John was getting ready to 
 leave, when Katherine perhaps she saw the curious 
 glances from Mrs. Deland's group said with a sud 
 den frank friendliness, " There isn't any reason why 
 we shouldn't have a nice, chummy little chat, is there? 
 I am not with her. I am waiting for Mr. Gregg 
 who is always late. Shall we sit down somewhere ? " 
 
 He assented, and they ensconced themselves on a 
 luxurious davenport with which the foyer was 
 equipped. 
 
 " He is still faithful, you see," she laughed. Ob 
 viously she referred to Gregg. 
 
 " That is a sufficiently rare quality to be a dis 
 tinction, isn't it?" His smile, she noted, if less lu 
 minous, was as pleasant as ever. 
 
 " In my case, he is an isolated distinction, then," 
 she laughed again. " They are preparing to lay me 
 on the shelf. I am almost twenty-nine, you may re 
 member. And they are beginning to put me on boards 
 and committees and things already!" 
 
 " I hardly know whether to call that an exaggera 
 tion or an understatement." 
 
 " It is the literal truth."
 
 THE FORERUNNER 233 
 
 He did not see how that could be. 
 
 " O, very easily!" she assured him. "In spite of 
 old sayings about beauty being only skin deep, men 
 still prefer youth and freshness in women. And their 
 idea of youth is extreme immaturity. It is suspected 
 in some quarters that I rouge." 
 
 He smiled his skepticism. 
 
 " No, I don't, though no doubt I'll come to it in 
 time. About yourself. You have had some very 
 interesting experiences, haven't you? I keep tab on 
 you through the newspapers. Only I fear I don't 
 get a very fair notion of what you are doing, as I see 
 only the Gazette. Do you ever read it ? " 
 
 " Sometimes, as a sort of penance for my sins." 
 
 "You have sins, then?" Her mock surprise was 
 good. 
 
 " You can read the Gazette and doubt it ? Very 
 many," he replied promptly. 
 
 " O, that reminds me ! " She became grave. " I 
 heard a very unkind story about you the other day. 
 It was absurd, of course. I wish to say, I did not 
 believe a word of it. Can't men be just in politics? " 
 
 " O, one gets used to that sort of thing." He 
 thought of a retort he might have made. 
 
 Apparently she, too, thought of it, for she went on 
 hastily. " It was in answering that story that a man 
 paid you a very fine compliment. Ought I to tell 
 you, I wonder? Or do you receive so many that one 
 more wouldn't interest?" 
 
 " It is when we get few that a compliment is dan 
 gerous. I'm not sure but I'll risk it," he said 
 idly. 
 
 '"' He said, ' A man can't keep on preaching decency
 
 234 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 as earnestly and bravely as Dunmeade does unless 
 he's a pretty decent sort of chap himself.' I don't 
 mind telling you it was Mr. Gregg who said that." 
 She did not add that it was her father who, with 
 evident enjoyment, had narrated the story, or that 
 Gregg had qualified his compliment with, " Of course, 
 he's a crank." 
 
 " That was kind of Gregg." 
 
 " He often speaks of you. He admires you and is 
 very much interested in your career. We may call 
 it that, mayn't we ? " 
 
 " If you can't think of a better word." He wished 
 it were not necessary to bring Gregg's name so often 
 into the conversation. 
 
 They talked for a few minutes longer, on uninter 
 esting, impersonal subjects until they saw Gregg ap 
 pear at the entrance. John caught up the hat 
 Mrs. Deland had eyed so uncharitably; it was a very 
 good hat of its kind. But that lady effusively way 
 laid Gregg, and there was an awkward pause which 
 John did not know how to bridge. 
 
 While they were waiting in silence for Gregg to 
 make his escape, Katherine said, on an impulse, the 
 wisdom of which may be regarded as doubtful, 
 " About what you said of your career I don't like 
 to hear you speak so so lightly of it. I think you 
 have been very brave and splendid. Not many men 
 would have held out as you have." 
 
 He was taken off his guard. " I didn't expect you 
 to think so ! " 
 
 "My my notions of values and things have 
 changed a good deal, I find. And I may I go 
 on?" She looked at Gregg; he was still in Mrs.
 
 THE FORERUNNER 235 
 
 Deland's clutches. " I was a very selfish, thoughtless 
 girl then. I deliberately no, carelessly, which is 
 worse jeopardized your happiness in the search for 
 my own. I have been heartily ashamed of it. I 
 I hope it did not mean serious unhappiness to you." 
 
 He looked at her steadily. " I have not been un 
 happy." Then he rose to greet Gregg, who had ex 
 tricated himself. 
 
 The latter was very cordial. He deeply regretted 
 that John could not join them at luncheon and hoped 
 that the renewed acquaintance would not be discon 
 tinued. " Any time you're in town, call me up and 
 we'll lunch at the club. Any time, remember ! " 
 
 But he did not miss Katherine's tone as she said 
 to John, "Good-by! And I am very glad of what 
 you have just told me." 
 
 Later, when they were at their table and the waitei" 
 the same who had ministered to John, but ah! 
 how different his mien ! had brought his cocktail, 
 Gregg remarked, " I like that man Dunmeade. He's 
 the kind I'd be glad to do a favor for, on general 
 principles." 
 
 " I should think," she said, " he is the kind any 
 man would be glad to do a favor for. Then, why is 
 he so unsuccessful?" 
 
 " O, that's simple he's so far ahead of his time. 
 That's a much greater mistake than to be behind. 
 He is an unusual man. And do you know," Gregg 
 sipped his cocktail leisurely, " I have a notion he is the 
 reason you have kept me waiting so long." 
 
 Under his gaze the tinge of color in her cheeks 
 deepened. She made no reply. 
 
 " Does it ever occur to you," he asked, carefully
 
 setting down the glass, " that I might get tired of 
 waiting? " 
 
 " Does it ever occur to you," she answered, " that 
 I shouldn't care very much ? " 
 
 But of this John could know nothing. 
 
 That was the picture the dancing flames painted 
 for him Katherine in the glory of her full-blown 
 womanhood. He wished he had not met her. It was 
 true, he had not been painfully unhappy. But he 
 saw no profit in reopening old wounds. 
 
 The wish was repeated many times, 'as the winter 
 sped by and the vision persisted undimmed.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE FORK OF THE ROAD 
 
 THE ceremony of exchanging ministers was not 
 an elaborate court function. Fifty-odd gentle 
 men, representing each his principality, met in a hotel 
 parlor and elected Mark Sherrod to succeed William 
 Murchell as chairman of the Republican state execu 
 tive committee. As the latter retired from the chair 
 which, symbol of his undisputed sway, he had occu 
 pied for twenty years, and his enemy took his place, 
 there was nothing to indicate that the seals of do 
 minion had been formally transferred. The mon 
 arch was not present in person. 
 
 Many of the committeemen were surprised at Mur- 
 chell's presence. They had thought that he would 
 stay away to escape the last humiliation of beholding 
 the formal ratification of his accomplished defeat. 
 But he was there and presided, grimly defiant, over 
 the deliberations until his successor was chosen and 
 took up the seals. Then he remained, an apparently 
 unmoved spectator of the proceedings, until the meet 
 ing was adjourned. Afterward, first shaking hands 
 warmly with those who had supported him, far 
 gloomier than he in his defeat, he went away alone. 
 
 He had gone to the meeting in a carriage because 
 the weather was rough and his physical condition 
 was not good. But when he left he forgot the car- 
 
 237
 
 238 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 riage and started to walk to the house that he called 
 home. He walked aimlessly, head lowered as though 
 he were pondering some deep problem. But he was 
 not thinking profoundly. He was feeling feeling 
 the weight of his years; they had never until recently 
 seemed heavy. The defiant front that he had main 
 tained before the committee had been a pose. Not 
 that he felt defeat as stingingly as others might have 
 supposed; rather, it had seemed to him a relief. He 
 was merely feeling old old! 
 
 His course took him past a house of state, where 
 the monarch sat enthroned amid his court, directing 
 the affairs of his kingdom. What Murchell saw was 
 the office building of the Atlantic Railroad. He 
 passed on, then paused suddenly, his face lighting 
 up with a kind of humor. He would go back and 
 enter, boldly and openly as he had never before 
 dared to go, into the royal presence. He retraced 
 his steps, entered an elevator and was rapidly hoisted 
 to the proper story. A page of ebony skin took his 
 card. 
 
 Murchell did not have to wait long. Soon he was 
 before his former liege. 
 
 " How are you, Senator? " 
 
 "How're you, Sackett?" 
 
 Their hands met, to part instantly. Murchell took 
 the chair indicated by the royal gesture. 
 
 The royal brow wrinkled. " Isn't this a little in 
 discreet considering the present state of public 
 sentiment ? " 
 
 " What difference does it make now ? I've just 
 come from the committee meeting."
 
 THE FORK OF THE ROAD 239 
 
 " Yes? " Sackett understood. " Sherrod's elected, 
 I suppose? " 
 
 " Yes. Thanks to your influence." 
 
 " I'm sorry." Sackett's regret was genuine. Mon- 
 archs are always sorry to have to change ministers. 
 It is expensive. And deposed ministers are apt to 
 hold resentment. " But I have my duty " 
 
 " To your stock-holders, of whom I am one. Yes, 
 I know. I'm not complaining," Murchell interrupted 
 mildly. " Do you think I came to bark at you for 
 not playing fair, Sackett ? " 
 
 "Then what did you come for?" Sackett pulled 
 out his watch and looked at it significantly, a hint 
 that two years before he would have hesitated to 
 give. Murchell did not seem to observe the action. 
 
 " I came to tell you to keep an eye on the Michi 
 gan. I've kept them out of the Steel City for you 
 so far. But they're coming in. They ought to get 
 in, too. At any rate, they're getting ready to spend 
 a million in the attempt. I don't believe Sherrod can 
 keep them out. Keep an eye on him, Sackett." 
 
 " We're counting on you to help there." 
 
 Murchell shook his head. " I'm through." 
 
 " Look here ! What's the use of your getting your 
 back up over this business? You understand per 
 fectly well that we must stand in with whoever's on 
 top. You put Sherrod out and we'll back you as 
 strong as ever. I wish," Sackett said persuasively, 
 " you'd keep an oversight of the Michigan matter. 
 I doubt myself that Sherrod can keep them out." 
 
 "Little late thinking that, aren't you? He can't. 
 Don't trust him to do it. Sherrod won't last, Sackett.
 
 240 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 He has no self-control. He's too greedy. But I'm 
 through. I don't want to put him out." 
 
 " We'll make it worth your while, if that's the 
 trouble." 
 
 " You can't make it worth my while." 
 
 " You politicians," Sackett exclaimed angrily, 
 " make me tired, with your infernal bickerings and 
 jealousies. I'd as soon be back in the old days " 
 
 " No, you wouldn't," Murchell interrupted again 
 dryly. " You wouldn't go back to those days for 
 many times the millions it'll cost you to keep the 
 Michigan out if you keep it out. You know that 
 I know it. You railroaders have grown hog-fat 
 the last few years, just because in every state of the 
 union there's been a man like me, willing to prostitute 
 himself in your service." 
 
 Sackett looked a real astonishment and sus 
 picion. 
 
 " You needn't be afraid," Murchell grimly an 
 swered the suspicion. " It's too late for the leopard 
 to change his spots. I'm not going to fight you. I'm 
 going to quit." 
 
 He slouched back in his chair, half closing his eyes 
 as though he were very tired. He sat for several 
 minutes without speaking, forgetting that Sackett's 
 time was precious. Sackett, too, seemed to have for 
 gotten this important fact. He was wrinkling his 
 brow over the problem, what means to devise to in 
 duce an old, pigheaded, betrayed minister to remain 
 in the service in a minor capacity. He was too 
 shrewd to argue; for many years he had had in 
 timate knowledge of Murchell's inflexibility. In his 
 perplexity he drew out a cigar, lighted it, took a
 
 THE FORK OF THE ROAD 241 
 
 few whiffs, absently tossed it into the polished brass 
 cuspidor and, as absently, produced a second; and 
 Sackett's hobby, as any railroad man of the period 
 will tell you, was economy. 
 
 " I'll tell you what I'll do," he began at last. " I'll 
 see Sherrod and " 
 
 Senator Murchell looked up sharply, as though he 
 had forgotten the other's presence. " Eh ? Still try 
 ing to play both ends against the middle, Sackett?" 
 He shook his head and rose ; it seemed to be an effort. 
 " I'm through. I've earned a rest, and my health's 
 gone back on me. I'm going back to the farm to raise 
 potatoes the farmer vote crop has petered out. 
 And if I ever do come back into politics, I'll make my 
 own terms." 
 
 He nodded a careless good-by and went slowly out 
 of the office. Apparently he had forgotten to shake 
 hands. Sackett did not remind him of the omission. 
 He remained with the impression of having beheld a 
 broken, hence harmless, old man. 
 
 It was characteristic of Murchell to give the world 
 no inkling of his illness. He granted one interview 
 in which his part consisted of a curt, " I am out of 
 politics ? " and thereafter refused to be seen. He 
 was supposed to be sulking over his defeat. In the 
 hostile press appeared triumphant and quasi-posthu 
 mous summaries of his deeds creditable and discred 
 itable, chiefly the latter; to these, it was implied, finis 
 had been written. Not until after the fact did the 
 surgeons, unable to refuse the opportunity for self- 
 advertisement, announce that a critical operation had 
 been performed from which there were hopes of a 
 partial recovery. Interest in his condition persisted;
 
 242 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 extraordinarily, considering that he was out of poli 
 tics. Meager accounts, drawn largely from baffled 
 reporters' fancy, sketched him as a spiritless, feeble 
 old man. The sentimental were inclined to believe 
 that his heart was broken by his defeat. 
 
 When his convalescence permitted it, he was re 
 moved to New Chelsea. That community, as you 
 may believe, was properly excited, intrusively inter 
 ested and somewhat apprehensive lest he pass unsea 
 sonably into the beyond and rob it of the distinction 
 of being his " legal residence." To have lost the 
 prestige of being capital de facto was bad enough. 
 John Dunmeade, as a collaborator in this disaster, 
 was made to feel a sudden atmospheric frigidity and 
 was led into further sorrowful reflections on the fickle 
 ness of the public. The mystery, only partially solved 
 by his sickness, of the grim old warrior whose most 
 spirited fights had always been made in the face of 
 defeat, now passively yielding to his foes, continued 
 unreasonably to vex the public. But Murchell, in 
 very ungracious fashion, kept himself secluded from 
 his neighbors and the stream of pilgrims that knocked 
 at his gates. 
 
 These pilgrims were of three classes: those who 
 had not wandered away after new gods; those who 
 had followed the new to find them unprofitable idols 
 and to return; and those who, clinging to the new, 
 sought through dissimulation to test the potency of 
 the old. Their plaints were divers; Sherrod was too 
 arbitrary, he was too lax, he permitted himself and 
 his friends to shake the plum trees of the cities so 
 vigorously as to court failure of the crop, he greedily 
 refused to divide the plums. From which it will
 
 THE FORK OF THE ROAD 243 
 
 appear that Sherrod, even thus early in his ministry, 
 showed an incomplete mastery of the subtle science 
 of suiting the word to the man. Murchell was urged 
 to intervene, to resist, to destroy. For one and all 
 he had only the irritable reiteration, " I am out of 
 politics." The dissimulants joyously, and the com 
 plainants despairingly, almost came to believe that he 
 meant it. But the pilgrimages continued. 
 
 In the midst of this uncertainty the Michigan Rail 
 road began secretly to undermine the Steel City, that 
 hitherto impregnable fortress of the rival monarch. 
 And John Dunmeade's announcement was made that, 
 whether renominated as district attorney or not, he 
 would be a candidate, anti-Sherrod and anti-Murchell, 
 for the gubernatorial nomination. Jerry Brent was 
 already well into a campaign for the Democratic 
 nomination, theretofore regarded as an empty honor. 
 
 We may not go so far as to declare that Miss 
 Roberta turned the course of history. But it is cer 
 tain that she was first to foresee, though not with 
 her bones, the fork of the road. Miss Roberta had 
 scornfully refused to gratify her curiosity by asking 
 questions, but to her had come tales of a doddering 
 old creature living alone yet without scandal 
 with a uniformed nurse and two servants. So touch 
 ing were the pictures presented that at length, after 
 a protracted struggle with herself, her heart relented. 
 She filled a basket with the following comestibles : 
 one dozen glasses of her own crabapple jelly, two 
 jars of chicken gumbo made after a recipe which she 
 alone knew, and a perfectly innocuous pudding de 
 signed to tempt the appetite of the most jaded in 
 valid. This basket on her arm, she set out, on a day
 
 244 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 when the March wind blustered and stung her face, 
 toward Murchell's home. 
 
 She presented herself, stiffly upright as a grenadier, 
 to the black-skinned man-servant. 
 
 " I've brought some things for Senator Murchell," 
 she announced. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am. Ah'll give 'em to 'im." He made 
 as though to relieve her of her burden. 
 
 " I'll give them to him myself." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, but the senatoh he ain' 'lowed " 
 
 " Tell him," she commanded, " that Miss Dun- 
 meade wishes to see him." 
 
 He obeyed. Almost immediately he returned with 
 a summons to the library. She followed him, re 
 fusing to relinquish her burden. She found Murchell 
 reading before the open fire, his cheeks slightly pale 
 and sunken, but his eyes clear and bright. He rose, 
 with an ease that did not betoken approaching dis 
 solution, to relieve her of the basket, shaking hands 
 warmly. 
 
 " I'm very glad to see you, Roberta. Take a 
 chair." 
 
 She seated herself primly. " You don't look as 
 bad as they say." She observed him suspiciously. 
 
 " I'm as well as can be expected, I suppose." 
 
 Suspicion deepened. "What are you reading?" 
 
 "Marcus Aurelius" 
 
 " Then you can't be very sick ! " 
 
 " Roberta," he said lugubriously, " the doctors tell 
 me that even with the best of care, I can live only 
 a few years, and that's thanks to my good constitu 
 tion."
 
 THE FORK OF THE ROAD 245 
 
 " A few years ! " she sniffed. " What did you ex 
 pect, at your time of life?" 
 
 " Eh ! But I suppose," he sighed, " I needn't ex 
 pect much sympathy from you." 
 
 " A nice time it is," she responded tartly, " for 
 you to be asking sympathy! You who never in your 
 life had any for anybody else." 
 
 He thought it wise to change the subject, and hur 
 riedly leaned over, raised the napkin and peered into 
 the basket. 
 
 "Why! Did you bring all these for me, Roberta? 
 That was very thoughtful of you." 
 
 " I guess you don't need them." 
 
 " O, yes, I do. My cook isn't very competent." 
 He inwardly prayed that the slandered lady was not 
 within hearing. " And I can't eat everything yet." 
 
 " I think," she said sharply, " you're just malinger 
 ing. Pretending to be sick to get people's sympathy 
 because you've been beaten." 
 
 " Now, Roberta," he protested mildly, " haven't I 
 a right to rest up after sixty-five years of hard 
 work?" 
 
 " No man has the right to rest, so long as he's 
 able-bodied. And you're that." 
 
 He smiled, not in amusement at her asperity. " It's 
 like you to cover up a kind act with sharp words. 
 Your bark's worse than your bite, Roberta. But you 
 would have led a man a life!" He shook his head 
 humorously. " What an escape the men had that you 
 wouldn't marry ! " 
 
 " There weren't any to escape." 
 
 " Yes, there were. I remember that. You were
 
 246 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 what they call a beauty, weren't you? Why," he 
 asked in sudden curiosity, " didn't you marry some one 
 of them?" 
 
 " Because," she said simply, " you were too busy 
 being in love with Anne Dunmeade to notice me." 
 
 "Eh! I why, Roberta !" He stared at her 
 blankly. Then his manner quickly softened. To 
 him, as she sat there before him, primly upright, 
 hands folded passively in her lap, there came a sense 
 of something pathetic, almost tragic. He had an un 
 comfortable feeling of responsibility. 
 
 She perceived his change of manner and drew her 
 self up even more stiffly, if that were possible. Her 
 lips straightened in a severe, thin line. 
 
 " You needn't be sorry for me. I have been glad 
 I escaped, ever since I found out the kind of man you 
 were." 
 
 " I am surprised," he said weakly. " I never 
 supposed you looked at me. Do you know," he added 
 slowly, " I have a notion I missed a good deal by not 
 knowing." 
 
 " I'd have made a man out of you." 
 
 " I guess," he smiled grimly, " you'd have found it 
 a hard job, as you seem to measure men. But I guess 
 you could have, if any one could." 
 
 She turned on him in a little unexpected gust of 
 fierceness. " But not the kind of man you are! Not 
 a coward to quit fighting the very first time you are 
 beaten. I thought you were one when you left your 
 regiment before Gettysburg, but I excused you on the 
 plea that we needed men at home, too. But now " 
 Her unfinished sentence was eloquent. 
 
 His astonishment was genuine. " Eh ! I believed
 
 THE FORK OF THE ROAD 247 
 
 you thought me a bad man. You ought to be glad I 
 was beaten." 
 
 " But John says you're a better man than Sherrod." 
 
 " Only," Murchell amended, shrewdly guessing, 
 " he put it that Sherrod is a worse man than I am, 
 didn't he? I don't believe I'm a coward. A few 
 months ago I did intend to quit I was very tired 
 and my sickness was coming on. But now Ro 
 berta, can you keep a secret ? " 
 
 " I've kept one for forty years." 
 
 " So you have ! Well, the other day I got my doc 
 tor to tell me the things I must eat and must not 
 eat to keep alive as long as possible and then told 
 him to go to the devil. Roberta, it was the first time 
 I've sworn since I joined the church." 
 
 Miss Roberta kept her smiles for rare occasions. 
 " I wish I could have heard you ! " Which conces 
 sion she immediately negatived by adding, " I sup 
 pose you're going to do the same kind of thing over 
 again." 
 
 " Roberta, you're the most consistently inconsistent 
 person in the world. You mean, am I going to turn 
 reformer? You can't teach an old dog new tricks." 
 
 " Not if he doesn't want to learn, I expect." 
 
 She rose to go. He followed her example, though 
 urging her to remain. She went a few steps toward 
 the door, then suddenly turned and walked back to 
 face him. 
 
 " Why don't you help John? " 
 
 It was his turn to stiffen, angrily. " You ask that, 
 after the way he attacked me and created a sentiment 
 against me that paved the way for Sherrod to beat 
 me? He's responsible for Sherrod's getting on top,
 
 248 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 do you know that? I gave him a chance five years 
 ago and he wouldn't take it. I will do nothing -for 
 him. 
 
 " And besides," he added, more mildly, " he 
 wouldn't let me help him in the only way I could." 
 
 She looked at him strangely for a moment. He 
 would have said, had not the notion been so incredi 
 bly absurd, that there was pity in her eyes. She spoke 
 with unusual quietness for her. " I wasn't thinking 
 of him. He doesn't need you. You need him." 
 
 Again his astonishment was genuine. 
 
 She turned and went to the door, on her way tak 
 ing up the basket. Recovering himself, he hastened 
 after her. 
 
 " Aren't you going to leave the basket, Roberta ? " 
 
 " I am going to take it," she flung back as she 
 passed out of the room, " to a sick man who needs 
 it and deserves it. And I can find the door my 
 self, Will Murchell." 
 
 He did not accompany her farther. He went to 
 a window where he could watch her, still stiffly up 
 right as a grenadier, breasting the March gale. He 
 tried to recall how sKe had appeared when she was 
 young; for she, too, all unknown to him, must have 
 marked a phase in the life of the young man who 
 once had been. When she had passed out of sight, 
 he returned to his chair. 
 
 Marcus Aurelius was forgotten. 
 
 One of the pilgrims we have met before, casually, 
 during the course of this chronicle, the Honorable 
 G. Washington Jenkins. He had been of the faith 
 ful at a time when heresy was profitable. Hence his
 
 THE FORK OF THE ROAD 249 
 
 tall, Lincoln-like figure was one of the few that were 
 not turned inhospitably away from Murchell's door. 
 
 He was in New Chelsea a few days after Miss 
 Roberta's neighborly errand, having had to return 
 from Washington in connection with the Plumville 
 post-office. He had " run over," as he explained to 
 Editor Harvey, " to inquire after the health of Sena 
 tor Murchell." 
 
 The inquiries made, he consumed a whole hour ex 
 patiating on the necessity of recapturing a lost leader 
 ship. Murchell listened with few interruptions. 
 Then: 
 
 " Wash," he asked abruptly, " how'd you like to be 
 a candidate for governor?" 
 
 " I'd like it," said Wash honestly. 
 
 " Suppose," Murchell suggested, " you begin a 
 campaign for delegates. We could use the dele 
 gates, even if we couldn't use you," he added thought 
 fully. 
 
 The congressman smiled faintly. They discussed 
 the matter at length. 
 
 As Jenkins was leaving, his host remarked ear 
 nestly, " Hereafter consult only with Greene. Don't 
 come here. I'm out of politics." 
 
 Neither gentleman smiled. 
 
 When the Honorable Jenkins returned to Washing 
 ton, he reluctantly admitted to an interrogative re 
 porter, " No, I'm afraid the senator is in a bad way. 
 I don't think he'll ever go back into politics."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 HISTORY 
 
 THE tablets of history are scrawled with the 
 names of many gentlemen who are supposed to 
 have made it. Probably they had something to do 
 with it. Yet how incomplete and haphazard the rec 
 ord, how many names, sign..icant if we but knew their 
 relation, are lacking! Let us here raise a tablet upon 
 which shall be inscribed : " To those who, having 
 had a finger in the historical pie-making, modestly 
 refused or were unhappily unable to record their 
 names and performances on its register." 
 
 There was, for example, John Heath. Of him 
 you have never heard. Unhonored and unsung until 
 this hour, he has remained in that shadowy obscurity 
 for which he was designed. And no man ever saw him. 
 He was, like chaos before it became a cosmos, with 
 out form and void. And yet, in a crisis when history 
 was in the making, at the very psychological moment 
 as you may say, he put forth his unsubstantial hand 
 and But let that appear in due course. 
 
 It was at a crucial time for those whom this chron 
 icle concerns, when Jerry Brent and John Dunmeade 
 were marching from Dan to Beersheba and back, and 
 laboring, with a patience worthy of larger results, 
 to rally the slender hosts of reform; when Stephen 
 Hampden was risking his all in one wild throw for 
 
 250
 
 HISTORY 251 
 
 vast fortune and Warren Blake was following that 
 daring example; when the Consolidated Coal Com 
 pany was making many happy by declaring a dividend 
 of seven per cent. 
 
 In the kingdom things were awry. Among the 
 subjects, whose interest in kingly affairs after two 
 years of slumbering was due to awake, a murmur 
 not a cry of protest nor even a whisper, but a 
 barely audible murmur was to be heard; a rousing 
 yawn, a rubbing of eyes. The rival monarch was 
 thundering at the gates. Worse still, there was dis 
 affection in the very source of dominion, in the army. 
 A time truly when the master strategy of a Richelieu 
 or the feline hand of a Mazarin, at the very least the 
 resolution and diplomacy of a Wolsey, were required. 
 And the minister in power chose this hour to get 
 drunk! Anxious glances were being cast toward the 
 deposed minister in his self-exacted exile. Royal 
 messengers were being sent galloping post-haste to 
 him to urge him, with fine, unconscious irony, for the 
 sake of past favor to speak the word that would re 
 store concord among the mutinous regiments. But 
 the ominous silence continued unbroken. 
 
 At such a juncture, we say, John Heath stepped in 
 to deflect the course of history. 
 
 Came to the exile, not many days after Miss Ro 
 berta had come and departed with her basket, a mes 
 senger not under royal seal. Secretary, we may call 
 him, to the new minister, having curried favor by 
 desertion of the old. He was visibly perturbed and 
 would not desist from his importunities until admitted 
 to the presence of the exile. Even then, such was his 
 feverish haste, he did not notice in his host, as Miss
 
 252 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 Roberta had done, a vigor inconsistent with certain 
 rumors rife. 
 
 He plunged at once into the matter in hand. 
 
 " Come," he besought, " to the capital." 
 
 "I will not," was the answer. "What's wrong?" 
 
 " I don't know," sighed the messenger. " Some 
 thing's wrong." 
 
 " Draw a chair to the fire," ordered the exile, " and 
 cool off." 
 
 This extraordinary command the messenger did his 
 best to obey. 
 
 " Take a cigar on the table behind you," Mur- 
 chell continued. 
 
 This also the messenger did, puffing rapidly until 
 Murchell, to see him, had to pierce a thick blue 
 nimbus. 
 
 " Now then," was the next command, " imitate a 
 sane man as far as possible, and tell me what you 
 want." t 
 
 " We've got Sherrod locked up in a room at the 
 hotel. He's drunk as a lord and threatens to throw 
 himself into the river! " 
 
 " Well let him ! " said Murchell, grimly heart 
 less. 
 
 " But there'll be scandal. There's something 
 wrong." 
 
 " Then let there be scandal." 
 
 "But," cried the messenger, " it may be something 
 to bring on a revolution that will sweep us all 
 Sherrod, Parrott, me you off the face of the 
 earth." 
 
 " I," responded Murchell calmly, " am out of poli 
 tics, and don't care. What do you want me to do ? "
 
 HISTORY 253 
 
 " Come with me to the capital, find what's wrong 
 and straighten it out." 
 
 " Is that all? Why come to me? Why don't you 
 do it yourself? Go to Parrott." 
 
 " There's nobody else to go to. I can't. Par- 
 rott's a fourflusher. This is critical." , 
 
 " I won't do it. It's trouble of your own making. 
 Get yourselves out of it." 
 
 The messenger sprang to his feet and began to 
 pace the floor swiftly. He assumed to instruct a 
 master. With wild gesticulation and passionate 
 phrase he sketched the impending calamity. The 
 times were ripe for a revolution. These unutterable 
 fools, Dunmeade and Brent, with their incessant clack 
 about bosses and graft were getting the people stirred 
 up. There was trouble in the air he, the speaker, 
 could feel it. The organization was falling to pieces. 
 That magnificent army, monument to the incompara 
 ble genius of Murchell, faced total destruction. Mur- 
 chell's old friends, who had stood by him so faith 
 fully during all his victorious career and had fled 
 only before the approach of defeat would be swept 
 from power and into a profitless obscurity. The 
 messenger implored the exile to " come over and help 
 us." 
 
 Murchell listened, unemotional as the chair in , 
 which he sat, until the despairing appeal came to a 
 period. 
 
 " Do you think," he inquired calmly, " Sherrod's 
 short in his accounts? " 
 
 " I don't know. There are books I can't see with 
 out exciting suspicion. And I can get nothing out of 
 him."
 
 254 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 The swift pacing ceased abruptly. The messenger 
 confronted Murchell. 
 
 " Who," he demanded, " is John Heath? " 
 
 " I don't know," answered Murchell truthfully. 
 
 " Within less than two years he has received from 
 the state more'n nine hundred thousand dollars 
 for special services ! " 
 
 " Nine hundred thousand dollars ! What is John 
 Heath?" 
 
 " I don't know. But I think he may be hell." 
 
 The messenger flopped into his chair, helping him 
 self, uninvited, to another cigar. Murchell, as though 
 taking up a task that the other had left unfinished, rose 
 and in his turn began to pace the floor ; not excitedly, 
 but leisurely, hands thrust into trousers' pockets, and 
 without words. The guest watched him anxiously. 
 But neither smile of triumph nor frown of per 
 plexity rufHed the contemplative calm of the old man's 
 face. 
 
 Only once did the guest interrupt. " A train leaves 
 in half an hour, Senator." 
 
 Murchell ignored the interruption and continued 
 his pacing. After a few minutes he went out of the 
 room, still without speaking. He did not reappear 
 for almost a quarter of an hour. But then he wore 
 a hat and an overcoat and was carrying a light leather 
 
 grip- 
 
 " Come along," he commanded. " The hack's 
 waiting." 
 
 The guest went along with alacrity. 
 
 He would have given much to know what was go 
 ing on in Murchell's brain, what hopes and plans 
 were being born. But it was not his to know. Dur-
 
 HISTORY 255; 
 
 ing the ride to the Steel City Murchell talked prin 
 cipally of a severe snowstorm that had visited New 
 Chelsea during the winter. 
 
 Once his companion interrupted to say, suggestively, 
 " Senator, this matter might change things consider 
 ably, eh?" 
 
 " It isn't ended yet," Murchell remarked dryly. 
 
 "But when it's over ? You know, I hope, you 
 can count on me for anything, Senator." There 
 was a question in his statement. 
 
 Murchell shook his head in curt finality. " I want 
 nothing. I am out of politics." 
 
 When they had reached the Steel City and had 
 changed cars for the capital train, he went to their 
 stateroom and was soon, to all outward appearances, 
 sound asleep. The messenger regretted that this op 
 portunity for a confidential chat should be wasted. 
 
 At that mystic hour which we are told is the dark 
 est of all, two men were sitting in a hotel room. One 
 sat stretched out before the dying fire, yawning wist 
 fully for the sleep of which twenty- four hours' guard 
 duty had robbed him. A litter of newspapers on the 
 floor around him showed how he had beguiled the 
 slow vigil. The other was slouched in a rocker by 
 the table, head dropped forward on his breast and 
 hands hanging inertly at his sides. His face, past the 
 flush of mere intoxication, was a livid white; deep 
 rings were under his eyes, and his stupidly parted lips 
 were purple; the red-rimmed eyelids were half closed. 
 Drunk evidently, and more than that ; the wonder was, 
 when one saw the number of empty bottles on the 
 table, that a man could consume as much whisky as 
 he apparently had swallowed and still live. Oc-
 
 256 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 casionally his lips moved; senseless mutterings came 
 from them. 
 
 The sober one rose, stretched himself wearily and, 
 taking up the coal-scuttle, replenished the fire. 
 
 At the noise the other stirred, straightened up with 
 an effort. The half -closed lids opened, revealing the 
 glassy, bloodshot orbs, in one of which was the sin 
 ister cast. 
 
 " Wha'zhay ? " he muttered thickly. He made a 
 futile attempt to rise. " Wakinzh, I'm go'n out. 
 Go'n throw m'zhelf over over brizh." 
 
 " Shut up, you fool ! " Only Watkins defined the 
 kind of fool more specifically. " Here, take another 
 drink." 
 
 From a half -emptied bottle he poured out a glass 
 of liquor and held it to the other's lips. Sherrod 
 drank it obediently and sank back into his former 
 limp attitude. Watkins returned to his seat before 
 the fire. 
 
 A few minutes later he heard steps along the hall 
 and a guarded knock at the door. He opened a cau 
 tious crack, peeped out, and then threw it open eagerly. 
 Murchell and the messenger entered. Watkins 
 seized Murchell's hand joyfully. 
 
 "Thank the Lord!" he exclaimed. "I couldn't 
 have stood it much longer." 
 
 " How is he ? " the messenger asked, nodding to 
 ward Sherrod. 
 
 " I've kept him drunk only way I could keep him 
 quiet. The hotel people think it's just one of his 
 periodicals." 
 
 Sherrod seemed to hear their voices. He opened 
 his eyes again and stared at the new-comers glassily.
 
 HISTORY 257 
 
 Then a lightning flash of intelligence seemed to pene 
 trate his stupor. 
 
 "Murchell!" 
 
 He managed to stagger to his feet, stumbling to 
 ward Murchell with hands outstretched as though 
 obedient to some primal instinct to throw himself at 
 the feet of the man who could save him. Then a last 
 wave of drunkenness swept over him. He fell, 
 sprawling unconscious on the floor. 
 
 The three men looked disgustedly down on the thing 
 before them. Watkins nudged it roughly with his 
 foot. 
 
 " Hog ! " he sneered in disrespect he would not have 
 dared to show to Sherrod sober. " He ought to be 
 kicked." 
 
 " He ought," said Murchell, more practical, " to 
 have a Turkish bath. Is there one open at this time 
 of night?" 
 
 " In the hotel. They keep it open," Watkins 
 grinned, " for all-night statesmen." 
 
 " Then take him there." 
 
 Ten hours later Sherrod opened his eyes. After a 
 struggle with a soggy, unresponsive brain he won a 
 vague recollection of a long nightmarish period in 
 which a Thing scorched and seared his soul, a blank 
 in which it vanished, and of being roasted and steamed 
 and pounded back into a hazy semblance of conscious 
 ness. He was too old for his body to recover quickly, 
 even with efficient help, from the effects of the outrage 
 he had put upon it, as the throbbing head and violent 
 nausea eloquently proclaimed. He closed his eyes and 
 lay very still, sending memory on a long, wandering
 
 258 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 search after the Thing which had driven him to this 
 indiscretion. Then suddenly came recollection. 
 
 He started up with a groan and beheld the man 
 who sat by the window. The man Murchell 
 heard the movement and came to the bedside. He 
 stood looking down pitilessly at the half-recumbent 
 sick man. Sherrod stared back with bewildered, fear 
 ful eyes for a moment. Then, with another groan, 
 he fell back. His parched lips tried to frame a ques 
 tion, but nothing came of the effort save a dry, croak 
 ing sound. 
 
 Then Murchell spoke. " Who," he demanded, " is 
 John Heath?" 
 
 A spasm of fear even more acute contracted Sher- 
 rod's face. He could not take his eyes from Mur- 
 cheil's, which held him as if in a physical grip and 
 seemed to be drawing the secret out of him. He 
 moistened his lips with his tongue. 
 
 " Wh what do you know ? " 
 
 " Who," Murchell repeated, still in the pitiless tone, 
 "who is John Heath?" 
 
 " He is the political account." 
 
 "Of which you're the receiving end?" 
 
 Sherrod's lips formed a soundless, " Yes." 
 
 " How much are you short ? " 
 
 There was a moment's pause, of inward struggle, it 
 seemed. " All the account." 
 
 " Nine hundred thousand dollars ? " 
 
 " About that." 
 
 " What have you got to show for it ? " 
 
 " Some securities oil stocks." 
 
 "Worth what?"
 
 HISTORY 259 
 
 " Three hundred thousand about. I don't know 
 1 exactly." 
 
 "Where are they?" 
 
 " In my private safe at the office." 
 
 Murchell turned sharply and left the room. Almost 
 at once he was back, accompanied by Watkins. " Give 
 Watkins the combination," he commanded. 
 
 There was another moment of hesitation, of inward 
 struggle. Sherrod's soul seethed with hate of the 
 merciless man who glared so icily down upon him; 
 he felt angrily that a shameful advantage was being 
 taken of his weakness to wring from him what in 
 strength he could have withheld. But a great fear 
 was upon him, swallowing up even hate and anger. 
 He mumbled the combination. 
 
 "Have you got that, Watkins? Then you and 
 Paine fetch here all the securities in the safe. Every 
 thing you can find. Be quick." 
 
 Watkins obeyed, as promptly and unquestioningly 
 as the soldier on the field of battle obeys his superior 
 officer. As he went he found time to wonder how the 
 impression had ever got abroad that this man of in 
 stant decision, of crisp orders, was a useless victim 
 of the decrepitude of age. 
 
 Murchell remained looking silently down at the man 
 on the bed. Sherrod tried to glare back defiantly, but 
 the fear that was upon him would speak. He reached 
 up and clutched Murchell by the arm. 
 
 " Wli what," he quavered, " are you going to 
 do?" 
 
 Murchell shook his arm free. " I am going to get 
 you out of the muddle you have got yourself into,
 
 26o HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 you " He left the sentence uncompleted, as though 
 he could think of no adequate epithet. 
 
 Sherrod gaped foolishly, trying to comprehend the 
 incomprehensible that the man above him, who least 
 of all the world owed him service, would lift him 
 over the impasse around which no way appeared. 
 Then suddenly he broke into tears and maudlin bab 
 blings explanations, contrition, gratitude, promises 
 mingling disconnectedly. He longed, he declared, to 
 prove his gratitude, he would give his life to repay 
 him who would do this mercy. 
 
 Murchell listened in cold contempt. " You don't 
 mean a word you say," he interrupted the flow at last. 
 " You're only a coward frightened out of his wits. 
 You'll be the same treacherous hound when it's over. 
 I'm not doing it for you." 
 
 " Then why are you doing it? And how? " Sher- 
 rod's fear rushed back upon him. 
 
 " Never mind why," was the curt answer. " I'll 
 tell you how when it's done." 
 
 He turned and went out of the room, not to return 
 until Watkins and Paine, the messenger, arrived with 
 the securities. 
 
 An afternoon train, rolling down out of the hills 
 into the flat lands, bore William Murchell to the city 
 that had witnessed the last step in his overthrow. A 
 cab took him, by appointment, to the home of Philip 
 Wilder, where he lay overnight. Philip Wilder was 
 not a monarch, to be sure, but he was a prince of the 
 blood and he ruled over a province of street railways. 
 Many things did this princely gentleman desire and
 
 HISTORY 261 
 
 for them he was willing to pay the least price that 
 must be paid. 
 
 He, like Miss Roberta and Watkins, was astounded 
 when he beheld, not a shuffling, harmless shadow, but 
 a man who showed the marks of age's battering, yet 
 was clear-minded, hale and hearty, who had not for 
 gotten how to drive a close bargain, who knew exactly 
 what he wanted and who got it. So pleased was he 
 by his discovery that the next morning, breaking a sol 
 emn promise to Murchell, he reported it to Sackett. 
 " Richard," he declared, " is himself again." 
 
 But by that time Murchell was well on his way back 
 to the capital. 
 
 A rumor that the once great politician was on the 
 train quickly spread among the passengers and many 
 of them found occasion to stroll past his seat. But 
 there was no visible ripple of emotion to betray to 
 their curious eyes the swelling sense of triumph within 
 him. 
 
 When, his energy sapped up by the sickness, the seri 
 ousness of which he did not yet realize, he had con 
 fronted Sackett and declared his purpose to quit, he 
 had spoken in all truth. But, the operation over and 
 strength creeping back into the body whose tissues 
 austere living had never devitalized, the hunger, the 
 need for action reasserted itself. The relief, the doc 
 tors had said, could be but temporary, they commanded 
 abstinence from work and worry. But in his heart 
 he knew better ; he knew that for him, to whom action 
 the same " work and worry " which so burdened 
 other men had been the very bread of life, to dawdle 
 along to the grave meant a speedier decay. The spirit
 
 263 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 that had grown strong and arrogant on the battle-field 
 would, bereft of the joy of struggle, quickly break. 
 
 Hence he planned, not consciously to reseek his old 
 power and responsibility, but from his castle in the 
 forest to make sudden, unexpected forays to harass 
 those who had deprived him of his glory. Then, even 
 while he thus planned a guerilla warfare, came the 
 opportunity to wreak the sweetest of all revenges, to 
 save those who had thrown him over, to torture his 
 enemy with the sense of inferiority and obligation, 
 perhaps the warrior soul leaped to make of re 
 venge also a lever to open the gates in the road back 
 to supremacy. Almost for the first time in his life, 
 he acted on an impulse. Yet his action was not wholly 
 unconsidered. During the few minutes in which he 
 listened to and pondered the Macedonian cry, he 
 thought much more of what he would do than of 
 why. 
 
 And now it was done it was done ! Under the 
 stimulus of sharp, successful action he felt almost the 
 strength of his prime. He looked out of the window 
 on flying meadow and plowed land, and saw them not. 
 He was beholding a vision on which, with savage 
 contempt, he had looked, and over which, with yet more 
 savage joy, he would gloat the quivering, fear-shot 
 countenance of his enemy. Whirring wheel struck 
 from rail an iron song of triumph in which his soul 
 joined the mad, exultant shout of the viking return 
 ing victorious. 
 
 But he found, what Murchell with his experience 
 of men ought to have known he would find, a different 
 Sherrod from that he had left, a Sherrod who had 
 had time to think, to measure the situation, who had
 
 HISTORY 263 
 
 recovered his nerve. And of Sherrod this may be 
 written : he was a great fighter. Cunning and daring, 
 he knew how to strike and where, and strike he gen 
 erally did with a brilliancy of execution no other poli 
 tician of his day shared. Conscienceless, disloyal 
 yes but even his treacheries were accomplished with 
 a certain reckless grace and decision that gave them 
 the seeming of the born master's instinctive strategy. 
 One got the impression from him of a man to whom 
 all things were unmoral, in whom ethical sense was 
 naturally lacking. And he had what Murchell had 
 not, a personal magnetism that often won faith even 
 where interest failed; though he lacked what made 
 Murchell great, inflexibility and self-control. Coward 
 he was not. Almost any man, beaten by the same 
 knowledge of crime and imminent discovery, with so 
 much to lose, would have suffered a lapse from cour 
 age. But the hour of cringing and weakness was past. 
 He was ready, every faculty alert, to fight to keep 
 what he had won. And he was that most bitter of 
 men, a proud, passionate soul upon whom had 
 been put the shame of having his enemy behold his 
 shame. 
 
 Murchell found him in the same hotel room, through 
 the open windows of which a biting wind had swept 
 the last trace of the fetid fumes of tobacco and whisky. 
 He was sitting, wrapped in an overcoat, by the table, 
 slowly sipping from a glass of iced sour lemonade. 
 White he was still, with deep rings under his eyes. 
 But only the compressed lips and the barely percepti 
 ble tremor of the hand that set down the glass denoted 
 anxiety. Murchell carefully closed and locked the 
 door and, without speaking, sat down across the table
 
 264 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 from him. Sherrod's eyes, cool, not defiant but ag 
 gressive, menacing almost, locked with Murchell's 
 steady ones. 
 
 There was a moment of silence, during which Sher- 
 rod caught on the other's face a glimmer of astonish 
 ment. He knew the reason and he braced himself 
 the more tensely. 
 
 " Well ? " The voice was cool. 
 
 " I went to Wilder," said Murchell, almost in a 
 whisper. " He is selling your securities to-day at the 
 market. He will lend jou the balance. To-morrow 
 a man will come with the cash." 
 
 "And in return?" Sherrod knew the prince. 
 
 " He wants some charters in Adelphia and some 
 traction legislation. He will explain in detail when 
 you see him. I have promised him what he wants. 
 You will see that he gets it." 
 
 " Yes. The balance you say it is a loan. How 
 am I to repay? " 
 
 " That is for you to say." Murchell paused, then 
 added, " I understand banks are still paying for the 
 privilege of state deposits." 
 
 " How much do Paine and Watkins know ? " 
 
 " As much as I guessed." 
 
 " I can keep their mouths shut." 
 
 Again silence. Neither's eyes had wavered. Put 
 a chessboard between them, and you would have said 
 that they were two men intent upon their game, save 
 that they looked so steadily at each other. Each 
 was the chessman that the other would move. And 
 each seemed determined to break the other's gaze, as 
 though upon that hung the issue of some struggle in 
 which they engaged.
 
 HISTORY 265 
 
 The silence was broken first by Sherrod. His lips 
 twisted in a faint sneer. 
 
 " Are you waiting for my gratitude ? I have none. 
 I'm sick still, but I'm not afraid, as I was yesterday. 
 And I understand the situation. You haven't done this 
 for me." 
 
 " Is there any reason why I should do it for you ? " 
 
 Sherrod began to feel that he could no longer endure 
 the other's contemptuous, relentless gaze, that in spite 
 of his will his own was wavering. To cover it he 
 made a convulsive movement with his arm that knocked 
 over the glass. He looked away as he righted it. 
 The discomfiture worked a sudden change in his man 
 ner. The coolness vanished. Hate, anger, boiled over 
 in his heart, blazed out through his eyes as they re 
 turned to Murchell's. He almost hissed out his 
 words. 
 
 " You came here expecting to gloat over me, didn't 
 you? You think, because you've caught me with the 
 goods on, you're a superior being. You needn't. 
 Everything I am, Bill Murchell, you are ! " 
 
 Murchell permitted himself to smile. It added fuel 
 to the rising flames. 
 
 "Don't try to come the pure and lofty over me! 
 Everything I am, you are. Only worse you whited 
 sepulcher! You're an elder in the church, ain't you? 
 I s'pose, when you were sick, you had the parson 
 around to pray over you, didn't you? " (As a matter 
 of fact, precisely that had happened.) "When you 
 were praying, did you tell the parson how you got to 
 be so rich ? " 
 
 " At least," Murchell said quietly, " I didn't steal it 
 from the treasury of the state."
 
 266 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 Under the taunt Sherrod seemed to lose all hold 
 on himself. He sprang to his feet. His face was 
 convulsed, his voice and the pointing hand shook in a 
 very hysteria of hate. 
 
 " You dare call me a thief ! You! How about the 
 market tips you got for your votes in the senate, the 
 bribes you authorized to be given, the blackmail you 
 levied for your influence in the legislature? Maybe 
 you called them legal fees? You a lawyer! when 
 there isn't a business man in the country would trust 
 you with a case. Yesterday you called me a treacher 
 ous dog remember that? How did you get your 
 seat in the senate, if it wasn't by treachery to the poor 
 fool that made you and trusted you ? You thought me 
 a coward yesterday. I'm a braver man than you. 
 You're the kind of coward that hides himself from 
 himself under a cloak of sanctimonious hypocrisy and 
 sophistry. I've heard your preacher's talk about insti 
 tutions and larger good. You're not man enough to 
 admit to yourself that you're like us all on the 
 make in any way you can get it." He stopped, glar 
 ing at Murchell, his breast heaving in the stress of his 
 emotion. 
 
 Into Murchell's eyes had come a steely gleam that 
 in a saner moment would have restored Sherrod to 
 self-control, but now was unheeded. But his voice 
 continued cold, cuttingly contemptuous. 
 
 " Well, are you convinced ? " 
 
 "That you" 
 
 " Don't talk so loud. That you're a better and 
 stronger man than I am ? " 
 
 " I'm convinced I know you, my friend. And I'm 
 not afraid of you. Thought you'd come into this af-
 
 HISTORY 267 
 
 fair and use the knowledge as a club to bully me out 
 of politics with, didn't you ? Well swing your club. 
 I'm not afraid. I know why you did it, not for me, 
 but for yourself. You're trying to sneak back into 
 the game after you've been thrown out and you know 
 that this thing, if it came out, would kill your chances 
 as well as mine. The state's all upset, thanks to your 
 underhand work, and this would start a revolution 
 that would wipe you me all our kind, off the 
 map would help nobody but that fool Dunmeade. 
 And by helping me, you've made yourself an acces 
 sory. So then crack your whip, if you dare ! " 
 
 Murchell got slowly to his feet. Never once, from 
 the moment he sat down, had his eyes left Sherrod's. 
 In them now, lights came and went, like heat lightning 
 on a summer horizon. In him, too, words were burn 
 ing to be cried aloud; he had heard much truth that 
 afternoon and it had stung into life something which 
 in William Murchell had never stirred before. With 
 an effort that rendered him momentarily voiceless and 
 rigid he beat down the surging passion. Then he 
 spoke, still in the cold, even voice that cut. 
 
 " Just why I have done this isn't important at pres 
 ent. I had a good many reasons some, probably, 
 that you aren't qualified to understand. And I'm not 
 trying to sneak back into the game. I've never been 
 out of it. As to whether I want or dare to swing my 
 club, that remains to be seen. You'll have to chance 
 it, Sherrod." 
 
 Sherrod laughed, a harsh, sneering cachinnation that 
 must have carried into the adjoining room. " I'll 
 chance it ! You're not the kind of man in whose hands 
 such knowledge is dangerous. And I know all about
 
 268 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 your game do you think I've been fooled by your 
 pretense? I know all about Wash Jenkins' gumshoe 
 campaign for delegates." He leaned over the table 
 and thrust out an index finger that almost struck Mur- 
 chell's face. " You tell Wash Jenkins from me to go 
 straight to hell. I can be nominated governor even 
 from behind the bars of the penitentiary!" 
 
 Murchell was fully master of himself once more. 
 He calmly pushed the threatening hand away from his 
 face. " That," he remarked, " would be a fitting resi 
 dence for you. In the meantime, we'll put it out of 
 your power to seek the nomination from that quarter." 
 
 He left the room abruptly, returning immediately 
 with Watkins. He carefully closed the door behind 
 them. Then he faced the two men. 
 
 " Watkins, it's fortunate that you're cashier in the 
 treasurer's office." 
 
 Watkins agreed. 
 
 " Because from this minute / am state treasurer. 
 Sherrod will be allowed to sign vouchers that I ap 
 prove that's all. You will report to me once a week 
 in person. And not a voucher must be cashed until 
 O. K.'d by me. You understand ? " 
 
 Watkins looked at Sherrod, then back to Murchell. 
 He nodded. 
 
 " Sherrod will do nothing to disturb this arrange 
 ment. If he tries let me know. Good day!" 
 
 He went out of the room, quietly closing the door. 
 
 This is how John Heath, of whom you shall hear 
 more anon, put his finger into the historical pie. Many 
 will not believe it. But it happened, just as you have 
 been told.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 A DESERTED JORDAN 
 
 WAR! Which is all that General Sherman and 
 Jeremy Applegate described it. And civil war, 
 which is worse. The earth shaking under the feet of 
 many armies. The populace flocking wonderingly 
 about two great camps, between them a mighty breach 
 that might never be healed. And O ! the consternation 
 in the royal palace when news came that the belea 
 guered stronghold had fallen, and all because, no one 
 doubted, the Warwick who had fled from his castle of 
 exile to take the field with the advancing Lancastrians 
 had revealed the pregnable place in the city wall ! The 
 Michigan had won into the Steel City. 
 
 Two men were scrambling over each other, turning 
 the state upside down, because each lusted for power 
 and hated the other. Victory by either, if one might 
 judge by the past, meant corruption, thievery, oppres 
 sion, injustice, and it would be won by characteristic 
 means. The people knew it. 
 
 Between the two camps wandered a lonely Voice, 
 preaching honesty, decency, liberty, equity. He was 
 worthy to preach. He was the sort of man to whom 
 other men gladly entrust their most important private 
 affairs. He was fitted by capacity, by study, by ideals, 
 for the pure function of government. He had put 
 aside preferment, money, love the trio of rewards 
 
 269
 
 2/o HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 for any one of which men daily sell their souls 
 that he might be the fitter for his task. He had la 
 bored diligently, with enthusiasm, then steadfastly, 
 then doggedly, believing in his people with little to 
 justify the faith that was in him. He had come into 
 the full splendor of manhood, bearing up under a load 
 of discouragement that would have staggered many 
 strong men. 
 
 And as he went about that spring, preaching his cru 
 sade, scanty audiences listened carelessly or with sus 
 picion bred of many deceptions and systematic 
 miseducation ; let us be just indifferently responsive. 
 One who had reached that degree of discouragement 
 where he had ceased to seek for encouraging signs 
 might well have believed there was no response. He 
 preached purity ; they called him a futile dreamer. He 
 preached honesty and common sense; they said he 
 would " hurt business." And Quaker and German 
 and Scotch-Irish all with one accord lovingly clutched 
 their dollars, wagged their heads, shrugged their shoul 
 ders and veered to windward of him as though he 
 were the plague. He saw the last vestige of youth 
 slip profitless away. A stoop came into his shoulders 
 that ought not to have come for many years, a sadness 
 into his eyes. Worst of all, his faith began to waver, 
 in his people, in himself, in his ideal. 
 
 He was in the Steel City one night, speaking at a 
 public meeting. He was often laughed at for proffer 
 ing old-fashioned oratory in the day of the ubiquitous 
 newspaper. But it was the only way in which he 
 could reach the people, since the columns of the sub 
 sidized press were not open to him or his crusade.
 
 A DESERTED JORDAN 271 
 
 He went away from the hall, heavily downcast. The 
 audience had been small, anything but enthusiastic, 
 and he had spoken poorly. There is no discourage 
 ment like unto that of the man who believes he has a 
 message to give and knows that he has delivered it in 
 adequately. 
 
 His way to the hotel took him along the city's prin 
 cipal street. He walked slowly, scrutinizing the 
 passers-by with that interest in city throngs which 
 the country-bred man never quite loses. He came to 
 a corner where another crowded thoroughfare crossed. 
 He stopped and leaned against the wall of the bank 
 that stood there. A score or more arc lights turned 
 night into day. A hundred intermittent electric signs 
 in all colors, advertising shoes, soap, dry goods, thea 
 ters, saloons and what not ? cast over the scene 
 a glamour as unreal as that of any stage. 
 
 The theaters were just letting out, and around him 
 swirled a stream of humanity, the sound of many 
 voices, and twice as many feet rising in a peculiar, un 
 musical roar. All sorts : top-hatted clubmen, drab 
 shopkeepers, loudly-attired clerks, swaggering youths, 
 slouching loafers whose intended intoxication was as 
 yet only half accomplished; on their arms their wives, 
 their sisters, their sweethearts, their harlots; and all 
 in a hurry, hastening to crowd every minute of every 
 hour full to forget? He thought it might be so. 
 For he knew that throughout the day these men all 
 raced madly to win ahead of care; perhaps the multi 
 colored night was the same mad rush to forget the 
 gaunt mistress. He caught, as he always did, in their 
 eyes a look one sees not in country people a restless-
 
 272 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 ness, a f everishness, an intensity, a was it fear ? 
 He thought of something that Haig, who knew them, 
 had once said. 
 
 " Gradual reform by an awakened people? By the 
 time they're awakened, it'll be too late. It's too late 
 now. Because why the cities hold the balance of 
 power. Do you know that in the cities nine hundred 
 and ninety-nine are directly or indirectly dependent on 
 the thousandth for their incomes ? And do you know 
 that there are six men who can bring on a panic on 
 twenty- four hours' notice not a toy panic such as 
 we've had, but a man-size one that would paralyze 
 every industry in every city of the nation? The same 
 men through control of transportation can glut or 
 starve the cities at will. If the people get cantanker 
 ous, all they need to do is to turn on a panic. A 
 city man at best has no more sand than a bunny cot 
 ton-tail. Put on the screws, give him a taste of 
 hunger, then promise him three meals a day if he'll 
 fall in line, and he will fall in line or " There Haig 
 had stopped. 
 
 " Or violent revolution? " 
 
 " I hope so. But have you ever been hungry? " 
 Here Haig's voice had grown bitter. " I don't mean 
 an edge to your appetite, but really hungry, with the 
 ache in your belly, the dizziness in your head and the 
 weakness crawling up your legs. I have. And I tell 
 you, it makes a coward out of the strongest, a cringing 
 cur, who'll beg or lick the foot that kicks him, for a 
 crust." 
 
 " But they'd never dare put the screws on in that 
 fashion!" 
 
 " Dare ! " the pessimist had sneered. " What can
 
 A DESERTED JORDAN 273 
 
 put the fear of God or man into the heart of a rich 
 man?" 
 
 John wondered, as the endless stream of humanity 
 swept by him, if that were true. What, if the screws 
 were put on, would these men do fight or submit ? 
 
 But it was not that which made the load of despond 
 ency hang heavier. Once, seeing a thousand men 
 gathered in the Square at home, he had thought of 
 the power there, " the power and the glory." Now 
 he saw the people, not in their immensity but in their 
 infinite multiplicity: so many men with so many in 
 terests, each living in his own restricted sphere of 
 linen-measuring, iron-making, cracker-selling, pen- 
 pushing, money-changing, seeing only his own worldlet 
 and its needs, able to brush elbows with his neighbor 
 on the street without interest or sense of relation. 
 Was Haig then right ? How could a dreamer, or a 
 thousand dreamers, by word of mouth teach these men 
 to think what their lives taught them not to feel 
 that a social problem was their problem, that political 
 putrefaction was their peril, that the masses' interest 
 was their interest? In vain he recalled historical epi 
 sodes when the people, for brief moments, had seemed 
 to thrill with a sense of the oneness of humanity and 
 its common need. He saw only, through the magnify 
 ing glass of many disappointments, their infinite multi 
 plicity the apparent hopelessness of stamping on 
 their consciousness the sense of intimate relation and 
 social responsibility without which substantial reform, 
 genuine progress, were empty dreams. 
 
 He walked on, tortured by doubts, yet clinging, as 
 the shipwrecked mariner clings to his raft, to his 
 dwindling faith in the people.
 
 274 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 As he was passing through the lobby of his hotel 
 the clerk motioned him to the desk. " Say, there's 
 been a big tough guy in three times to-night, asking 
 for you. Says it's important and he'll be back again. 
 Name is Maley. I guess," he laughed, knowing his 
 guest, " it's some political bum wanting to make a 
 touch." 
 
 Butch Maley, doubtless! John, curious, found a 
 seat in the lobby and waited. He laughed inwardly, 
 not pleasantly, at the recollections called forth by the 
 name, which he had almost forgotten. Butch Maley, 
 the first to be convicted in that crusade of nearly six 
 years ago it seemed like a generation had been 
 the first milestone in a path, the end of which the 
 young crusader in his innocent optimism had thought 
 he clearly saw. The path now seemed endless, tor 
 tuous and painful. 
 
 He had not long to wait. Maley was the same 
 bestial creature who had demanded money at the rally, 
 stood trembling in the dock and marched away, mouth 
 ing imprecations and large threats, to the penitentiary. 
 Even prison life could not leave its imprint on his 
 coarse fiber or further taint his spirit. He swaggered 
 still, no peril confronting him. That he was prosper 
 ous, the yellow diamond in his necktie loudly pro 
 claimed. He rolled toward John, grinning affably. 
 
 " Howdy, Johnny ? " He did not offer to shake 
 hands, for which John was thankful, although he was 
 too tired in spirit to resent the familiarity of the 
 greeting. 
 
 " How are you, Maley ? " 
 
 " Me? " Maley drew up a chair and deposited his 
 huge bulk in it. " O, I'm livin' on Number One, Easy
 
 A DESERTED JORDAN 275 
 
 Street. These here is good times fer fellers like me." 
 With an apparently unconscious gesture he lovingly 
 stroked his paunch. 
 
 " So I should say. Same old profession? " 
 
 " I got a half intrust in a booze joint. That's my 
 business. As fer profesh' I'm still a statesman. 
 Only yuh'd have a helluva time gittin' the goods on 
 me now. I learnt," he grinned, " a lot from yuh." 
 
 " There seems to be a demand for your peculiar 
 talents." 
 
 " They's alwuz a chanct fer the feller wot's out fer 
 the coin an' ain't squeamish. Say," he leaned for 
 ward and placed a propitiatory hand on John's knee. 
 " They ain't no hard f eelin's, is they ? " 
 
 " Not on my part." 
 
 " They ain't on mine, nuther, not now anyways. 
 'Cos," he chuckled coarsely, " I'm wantin' sump'n." 
 
 " What can I do for you ? " 
 
 " 'Tain't fer me." He assumed an air of extreme 
 caution. " S'posin' they wuz a feller wot never done 
 yuh no dirt, and at the same time, not bein' in yer 
 game, yuh got him foul. An' then, s'posin' he beat it, 
 not wantin' to serve time, an' then, bein' up against it 
 in a pertickler way, he wanted to see yuh. Would yuh 
 see him? " 
 
 " Slayton or Sheehan? " 
 
 " Sheehan." 
 
 " I guess I'd see him. Where is he? " 
 
 Maley winked solemnly. " I don't know nuthin' 
 till I know yuh won't have him pinched. That's the 
 point will yuh have him pinched ? " 
 
 John thought a moment before replying. " Well. 
 I guess I wouldn't, so long as he stays out of my
 
 276 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 jurisdiction. I couldn't make him more harmless now 
 by having him arrested." 
 
 " Is this all on the level ? " Maley looked at John 
 as though suspicious of this prompt concession. 
 
 " It is." 
 
 " Then go in the little room back o' the bar, an' I'll 
 have him with yuh in no time. He's waitin', not fur 
 away." 
 
 Maley swaggered out of the lobby with a tri 
 umphant air as though he had accomplished some deli 
 cate diplomatic manoeuver. John made his way into 
 a stuffy little room behind the hotel bar. It contained 
 a half dozen small tables, at two of which were noisy, 
 half-drunken groups. John sat down at the table 
 farthest away from them and waited. 
 
 Maley was as good as his word. In a few min 
 utes he entered, leading the fugitive. There was an 
 embarrassed moment as John rose to greet the man 
 whom he had broken. He hesitated, hardly knowing 
 how to address him. Sheehan's hand started forward 
 in an uncertain gesture, then dropped back to his side. 
 On a kindly impulse John held out his. The other 
 caught it almost eagerly in a soft, damp clasp. 
 
 " I hope you are well, Sheehan." 
 
 "I look it, don't I?" The fugitive gave a half 
 hearted laugh. 
 
 John was obliged to confess to himself that he did 
 not look it. If to Maley conviction and imprisonment 
 had been merely an unfortunate accident not permitted 
 to disturb the serene course of his destiny, Sheehan 
 had not accepted calamity so philosophically. He had 
 suffered, really suffered, John thought; he bore the 
 marks. His cheeks, once so rubicund, were sallow
 
 A DESERTED JORDAN 277 
 
 and pimply. Flabby pouches had gathered under his 
 eyes, which were furtively restless, as though contin 
 ually on the watch for some pursuer. He was fatter 
 than ever. But whereas his stomach had formerly 
 been of the graceful rotundity of semi-active prosper 
 ity, it had now become a paunch, like unto Maley's 
 own. But it was the fat of unhealth, and as waist 
 had protruded chest had fallen in. His hands shook 
 slightly. The suffering must have come from within, 
 since John had never tried very hard to have him 
 traced and recaptured. 
 
 " Sit down," said Maley hospitably, " an' have a 
 drink on me." 
 
 John sat down, but declined the drink. Sheehan 
 and Maley ordered whisky. While they were waiting 
 for it, there was another awkward moment, during 
 which Maley developed a loquacious interest in the 
 weather. 
 
 The whisky seemed to restore to Sheehan a part of 
 his nerve. Without further preliminaries he blurted 
 out, " I want to go back." He stopped, as though 
 waiting for an answer. 
 
 John waved his hand and remarked, " The railroads 
 are still running," a pleasantry that seemed lost on 
 Sheehan. 
 
 " It's that cursed sentence that's troubling me." 
 
 " That's nuthin'," Maley interposed cheerfully. 
 " It's only four months in the workhouse. I got a 
 year in the pen." His tone might have led one to be 
 lieve him boasting of a distinction. 
 
 " I should think," said John gravely, " you would 
 find it almost a relief to have it served and over." 
 
 " So I would," answered Sheehan, with an emphatic
 
 278 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 sincerity that was not to be doubted. " But I've got a 
 family." 
 
 "A little late to think of them, isn't it? The sen 
 tence would have to be served." 
 
 " It wouldn't, if you said the word." 
 
 John shook his head. " Besides, I'll not be district 
 attorney much longer and my successor mightn't be 
 complaisant." 
 
 Sheehan leaned over the table and clutched John by 
 the arm, his face twitching nervously. " I guess you 
 think fellers like me haven't got any heart? Let me 
 tell you something. I've got a wife and two kids that 
 I think as much of as if I was an educated reformer. 
 I haven't seen them in nearly five years, for fear you 
 would trail me through them. But now they're in 
 trouble. Money affairs are all balled up. And the 
 wife's got to go under an operation I don't know 
 whether she'll pull through or not. I ought to be 
 there to take care of them." 
 
 A doubtful blessing to them, John thought, study 
 ing the dissipation-marred countenance. Still he was 
 not there to pass on Sheehan's value to his family. 
 And he remembered having heard that in former days 
 Sheehan had been very proud and fond of his wife 
 and children and eccentric virtue among his kind 
 faithful to them. 
 
 " I didn't think you'd let me off. You reformers," 
 here was bitterness, " are always bent on sendin' some 
 body to jail. But will you do this give me two or 
 three months, until the wife gets out of the hospital 
 and I've got things straightened out some? Then I'll 
 take my medicine." 
 
 John thought rapidly. In the beginning of his cru-
 
 A DESERTED JORDAN 279 
 
 sade he would have enforced the law rigorously and 
 mercilessly, believing that in punishment lay healing 
 virtue for the state. Now he had learned its futility. 
 And the broken man in front of him had already been 
 punished enough. Surely he could show so much 
 leniency and harm no one. 
 
 " I'll do that much for you," he said. " Gladly." 
 
 Sheehan did not try to thank him. He leaned back 
 in his chair, sighing as though from his shoulders a 
 heavy load had fallen. 
 
 " And if you need any legal help," John continued 
 kindly, " in straightening out your affairs, I'll be glad 
 to help you." 
 
 Sheehan suddenly sat bolt upright, the red rushing 
 to his sallow face. " It's that sanctimonious Blake," 
 he said angrily. " He's gettin' after me because they 
 think I'm afraid to come back. Dirty crook! The 
 bank's tryin' to collect some old notes of mine that 
 wasn't supposed to be paid." 
 
 "Not to be paid? Why?" 
 
 " Political notes. Look here ! " Sheehan's face 
 lighted up in a slow, cunning smile that boded no good 
 for Warren Blake. " Do you want to make a big 
 pfay?" 
 
 John, too, sat up, suddenly alert. " Just what do 
 you mean ? " 
 
 " Have you been percolatin' around in politics for 
 six years an' not known about the Farmers' ? There's 
 always a few easy banks for the politicians. They 
 get state deposits, see? An' then dish them out to the 
 politicians on notes. Sometimes the notes are paid an' 
 sometimes they're just carried along. My notes 
 wasn't to be paid, because I helped get the Farmers'
 
 280 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 its deposits. It used to be one of the easy banks. 
 An' I guess it is still. Else why is a bank that's 
 friendly to Murchell carryin' deposits under Sherrod? 
 I guess they must be gettin' pretty shaky, because I 
 ain't the only one they're after. I've been skirmishin' 
 around here, seein' some men I used to know, an' they 
 tell me Blake's pushin' a good many old notes hard." 
 
 " But Hampden and Blake, with their stock, 
 wouldn't let " 
 
 " Stock! I bet they haven't ten shares apiece. If 
 you want to find that stock, you've got to look in the 
 tin boxes of the farmers or in the estates of the wid 
 ows an' orphans." 
 
 " But their last report was fine." 
 
 " That's easy. You just carry the notes as assets. 
 Assets!" 
 
 " See here, Sheehan ! " John was stern. " Have 
 you anything but suspicion for this ? " 
 
 "Ain't suspicion, the kind I've got, enough? You 
 go after 'em an' show 'em up. I bet you'll find 'em 
 rotten. Those easy banks always do bust up sooner 
 or later. I s'pose I've got to pay. I've got property 
 an', if they sue, I can't make any defense. But," he 
 concluded venge fully, " somebody else has got to pay, 
 too." 
 
 " Sheehan," John said coldly, rising, " you're letting 
 your desire to get even get away with your common 
 sense. I'll not destroy confidence in a bank, ruin it, 
 by going after it on mere suspicion. As for your 
 self," he added, more kindly, " if you report at my 
 office next Saturday morning with new bail, I'll go be 
 fore the court and ask that execution of your sentence 
 be postponed until your affairs are easier."
 
 A DESERTED JORDAN 281 
 
 With that he left them. 
 
 He went up to his room on the top floor of the hotel. 
 From the open window he could look down on the 
 street, on which the ebbing tide of humanity had left 
 its deposit of drunken men and late pleasure-seekers. 
 But above the sound of their voices and shuffling feet, 
 to him in his eyrie came the ceaseless, confused roar of 
 the life and toil of the city, speaking its awesome 
 immensity, its epic struggle and its infinite variety. 
 Yet this was but a fraction of the complex, incom 
 prehensibly vast organism which he, one infinitesimal 
 unit, had set out to repair. He laughed bitterly in 
 the poignant loneliness which has ever been the lot of 
 Voices. 
 
 He thought also of what Sheehan had said. And he 
 was not so unconvinced as might have seemed from 
 his reproof of the wanderer.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 SHADOWS 
 
 BUT other things crowded the Farmers' Bank for 
 the time out of his mind. 
 
 Only a few days remained before the primaries. 
 During the two terms of office he had acquitted him 
 self with skill and fidelity. Fear of him had doubtless 
 restrained the machine from many characteristic depre 
 dations, but victory was well-nigh hopeless. He had 
 become a candidate again only that the fight might go 
 on, in the faint hope that something might occur to 
 turn the tide in his favor. In the absence of the un 
 foreseen he would carry the townships by a slight ma 
 jority, but New Chelsea and Plumville 'would go 
 strongly against him. The little city had grown re 
 markably in population and importance. A Sheehan 
 could not have controlled it; the day of bosses of his 
 sort, primitive, merely brutal and dishonest, had 
 passed. But Greene, his successor, was of the newer 
 and more dangerous type, subtle, secretive, resource 
 ful, cautious, permitting no untimely excesses, careful 
 to bind the business interest of the city to his ambi 
 tion. 
 
 For three years he had been educating Plumville for 
 this campaign. He could employ that most effective 
 of all political weapons, ridicule. Who had given 
 John Dunmeade a life mortgage on his office ? What 
 
 282
 
 SHADOWS 283 
 
 was he anyhow but a kicker, a sorehead, a perpetual 
 office-seeker, a fanatic, a fourflusher, a demagogue? 
 What had he done during the six years of his noise- 
 making in the county and state? Greene shot to the 
 mark here. Plumville, like most of the American peo 
 ple, despised unsuccess. And John was an old story 
 in which it had lost interest. It got the impression 
 that in turning deaf ears to his plea it was righteously 
 squelching a shallow, impudent, self-seeking upstart. 
 
 Even among the farmers John met with the unre- 
 sponsiveness of discouragement. They would vote 
 for him, most of them, but it would be perfunctorily, 
 hopelessly. They were disappointed. The reform 
 that had begun so auspiciously six years before was 
 ending in dismal failure, with no other fruit than to 
 evolve a new and stronger machine. John was no 
 longer a herp. He could not be the man they had 
 thought him ; else would he not now be triumphant in 
 stead of in the last ditch? 
 
 Not even the unexpected reappearance of Sheehan, 
 reminder of former victories, could revive enthusi 
 asm. Sheehan had been almost forgotten, he had lost 
 his significance. About the only interest he aroused 
 was hostile criticism because John had been so soft 
 hearted as to consent to postponement of sentence. 
 
 Well it was for John's melting trust in himself and 
 his fellows that he could meet an occasional Cran- 
 shawe or Sykes or Criswell. Their faith survived. 
 
 He met the trio, the night before the primaries, at 
 Cranshawe's home on the pike. They did not pre 
 tend a vain optimism; they knew that they faced de 
 feat. 
 
 " At any rate," remarked Criswell, at the close of
 
 284 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 the discussion, " ye've had six years of good fight- 
 in'." 
 
 He spoke as though it were the end. 
 
 " Why, so we have six good, full years ! " said 
 John with an assumption of cheerfulness that he did 
 not feel and that did not deceive. 
 
 " I guess," said Cranshawe kindly, " ye think it 
 hasn't paid. In one way mebby it hasn't. An' then 
 again in another it has. It's like what I once told ye. 
 Ye've showed us the way. If we hain't follered, it's 
 our own lookout. Ye've done your part." 
 
 " Ye have," agreed Sykes solemnly. 
 
 And when he left, all three made a point of shaking 
 hands with him. 
 
 " There," said Cranshawe, as the three stood in the 
 stable yard, Sykes and Criswell making ready to go 
 their ways ; " there goes a man that's ready to quit. 
 It's been a long time comin', but it's come sudden. It 
 begun 1 ^st winter. I guess we've got to wait for an 
 other leader." 
 
 " Don't blame him," said Criswell briefly. 
 
 "D'ye know what I think?" Sykes' high, nasal 
 voice rose shrilly. " Damn the Amurrican people 
 that's what I think. They ain't fitten fur self-govern 
 ment. They ain't fitten to foller an honest leader. 
 I'm done." 
 
 " I won't go so fur as to swear about it," echoed 
 Criswell. " But that's my sentiments." 
 
 They drove away. 'Ri Cranshawe stood looking 
 up to the stars. In their faint light the big, toil- 
 hardened body towered majestic, a figure of strength 
 and patience and faith. 
 
 " How long, O Lord, how long? "
 
 SHADOWS 285 
 
 In the bank, behind closed blinds, Warren Blake 
 was working at his desk. He had been seen coming 
 out of the bank every night for weeks. It did not 
 cause comment. It was like Warren Blake, people 
 thought, to be working early and late. No one who 
 had not the key would have detected in the widened 
 eyes and imperceptibly twitching nostrils a hint of the 
 racking anxiety within. His pallor would have been 
 attributed to the garish gaslight overhead. Quite de 
 liberately he added up the column of figures before 
 him. They spelled his crime. 
 
 Very cleverly, very characteristically, he had gone 
 about it. Hampden, he knew, caught in the big deal 
 into which Warren had followed him, had drifted into 
 it; had hardly realized, as in the heat of necessity he 
 asked the cashier to certify checks for which there 
 were no funds, that it was crime. Not so with War 
 ren. In cold blood, with a nice calculation of the 
 chances, he had stepped over the line that he had never 
 before crossed. Once over, he had gone far. It had 
 been a gambler's chance, the kind that many men take 
 safely, and, when taken, had seemed all in his favor. 
 But now the luck was running the other way. If the 
 market sagged further, he would be done for. 
 
 No one, if told, would have believed why he had 
 done it because the bank was breaking anyhow 
 under the load of worthless paper, most of it a legacy 
 from his predecessor, and only a great deal of money 
 could save it. It had been his pride to carry along an 
 institution for the shakiness of which he was not re 
 sponsible; it had become his life. He had risked all, 
 even his own little carefully accumulated fortune, to 
 save all, though he had made it a point of honor not
 
 286 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 to risk the trust properties in his keeping, he some 
 how made a distinction. It struck him now as a most 
 absurd reason. He felt vaguely that to a normal man 
 there would have been something almost mirth-pro 
 voking in it. But then, he reflected, he seemed to be 
 different from any man he had ever known. 
 
 If the market should sag, how should he pay? 
 Hampden, though bankrupt, would be able to work out 
 of the hole; he could always get money somewhere. 
 But Hampden could not, hence would not try to, save 
 both. How then should he, Warren Blake, pay? 
 With shame, certainly. With money out of the 
 question. How should he pay? He carefully tore 
 the paper into tiny bits and threw them into the waste- 
 basket. He had no need to preserve the record. The 
 figures were burned into his memory. He rose to 
 put the books away in the vault. 
 
 If the market should sag! . . . Suddenly came 
 to him the sure foreknowledge that it would sag. For 
 an instant panic filled him. The books fell with a crash 
 from his nerveless arms. He stared wildly. How 
 should he pay? . . . Then he recovered himself. 
 He picked up the books and bore them to the vault. 
 
 He put the books in their places, then began fum 
 bling around a dusty shelf in a dark corner of the 
 vault until his fingers found and drew forth an oblong 
 pasteboard box. He opened it and looked at what 
 lay within. He took it out and played with it. The 
 gleaming, blue-black thing seemed to hold a horrible 
 fascination for him. It cost him an effort to put it 
 away. 
 
 He set the time-lock, closed the vault. Then he
 
 SHADOWS 287 
 
 went to a sink and carefully washed the dust from his 
 hands. Afterward he went into the street. 
 
 John Dunmeade, having reached home, put his horse 
 away in the stable. It was past eleven o'clock and he 
 was tired. But he was not sleepy and he hated to go 
 in out of the clear, still night. So he strolled up-town, 
 intending to have a pipe with Haig before going to 
 bed. His way took him past the bank just as Warren 
 stepped out The latter stopped. 
 
 " Hello, Warren." 
 
 " Good evening, John." 
 
 " Working late, aren't you? " 
 
 " I often do." He hesitated. " Are you out for a 
 walk?" 
 
 "Down to Haig's. Will you go along?" John 
 asked politely. 
 
 " A part of the way, if you don't mind. Some 
 times, when I've been working hard, I like to talk 
 to someone to forget myself." 
 
 John stared. " Can you ? " 
 
 " Forget myself ? Not readily. Can you?" 
 
 " Well, now you raise the question, I don't suppose 
 I can. I don't suppose any of us can, this side of 
 intoxication." John laughed as he said it. 
 
 " Was there anything funny in what I said? " 
 
 John achieved gravity with some difficulty. " Why, 
 no, Warren, not that I'm aware of. I just had a 
 vision of the pride of New Chelsea going on a jag in 
 order to forget himself and of course I laughed." 
 
 " But I did once." 
 
 "You did!"
 
 288 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 " Only once. The next day I had to think of my 
 self harder than ever." Warren's tone was absolutely 
 matter-of-fact. John laughed harder than before. 
 
 " There's something," Warren continued imperturb- 
 ably, " I've always wanted to ask you. Why do you 
 laugh at me? " 
 
 " Eh ? Why, Warren why, 'pon my word, I 
 don't know. And really," John added quickly, " I 
 haven't laughed at you lately. I used to, because you 
 took yourself so seriously. But recently I've con 
 tracted the same bad habit so I can't afford to laugh 
 at others. I hope you haven't been offended ? " 
 
 " I'm not offended," Warren answered quietly. 
 " I'm merely envious. You always seem able to laugh, 
 however things go with you. I suppose it's a good 
 thing to be able to laugh externally, even if one doesn't 
 feel really mirthful. People who can do it seem to 
 find in it an escape valve when the pressure is too 
 high." And, as if to change the subject, he asked, 
 " What are the prospects for to-morrow ? " 
 
 " The primaries ? Bad. In fact, they couldn't be 
 worse." 
 
 " I thought as much. I'm sorry. I'd like to see 
 you win." 
 
 John was thoroughly surprised. " I supposed your 
 sympathies were with the. other side." 
 
 " I've always voted for you." Warren reverted 
 suddenly to their former topic. " You ought to take 
 yourself seriously because others take you seri 
 ously." 
 
 " They form a distinguished minority, however," 
 John said grimly. 
 
 " Your enemies. I judge by the violence of their
 
 SHADOWS 289 
 
 attacks. I should say you are one of the men who 
 have won the secret respect of their enemies." 
 
 John said nothing. 
 
 " I think," Warren went on, " I understand that si 
 lence. You're thinking of the people, who have 
 turned you down. When we offer in good faith and 
 affection a friendship or a service to another or to a 
 people and it is rejected with ridicule and misunder 
 standing, that hurts. You think you're going to quit, 
 I imagine. But do you think you can? There are 
 calls to which one can't say no. Sometimes it's weak 
 ness and often it's strength the strength of some 
 thing outside, stronger than ourselves." 
 
 John smiled in the darkness. " I've heard you could 
 reconcile the doctrines of free will and foreordination. 
 But I didn't know you were a fatalist." 
 
 " Is that fatalism ? I don't know," Warren said 
 calmly. " I don't think you will quit. What a man 
 is fitted for, he must do, whether he wants to or not. 
 You are fitted for public service. You have some 
 thing apart from mere intellect and ability, and, far 
 rarer, the capacity to feel what we all accept in theory 
 but not in fact your relation to other men. I wish 
 I could feel could have felt it. Whatever gave you 
 that fine sixth sense won't let you quit. It will carry 
 you to the end through weakness and strength." 
 
 Something in the man's voice rather than in what 
 he said arrested John's interest. " Do you really 
 think that, Warren ? " 
 
 " There are things that one knows." 
 
 They halted, having reached the home of Silas 
 Hicks, where Haig had his rooms. The cigar War 
 ren had been smoking had gone out. He struck a
 
 290 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 match to relight it. He held the flaming taper before 
 him for an instant longer than was necessary and 
 John could see his face. It was composed but pale, 
 the eyes extraordinarily bright. 
 
 The match fell, burnt out. " This is the second 
 thing I have known to-night. I'm glad to have had 
 the chance to say it. And I hope you will remem 
 ber that I said it and that I wish, have always 
 wished you well. But I am keeping you. Good 
 night." He walked on. 
 
 " Good night. And thank you, Warren," John 
 called after him. 
 
 He did not go up to Haig's rooms. Instead, he 
 turned and walked slowly homeward, thinking of what 
 Warren Blake had said and of the man who had said 
 it 
 
 Primary day ! 
 
 From one end of the state to the other the battle 
 raged between red rose and white. When darkness 
 put an end to the sanguinary conflict, both sides were 
 claiming and neither side had the victory. The issue 
 must be removed for decision to the convention. 
 
 Benton County, a Murchell stronghold, chose its 
 complement of delegates instructed for the Honorable 
 G. Washington Jenkins. Also it gave, as it thought, 
 John Dunmeade his quietus. 
 
 Senator Murchell and his guest, Jenkins, received 
 the returns at the former's home. During the even 
 ing Greene drove down from Plumville. Jeremy Ap- 
 plegate, too, was there, not overwhelmed as he should 
 have been by the honor, to help tabulate reports. 
 Other politicians of the county dropped in, smoking
 
 SHADOWS 291 
 
 Murchell's cigars and feeling very important in the 
 nearness to their general and distinguished neighbor. 
 
 Once, about midnight, Jeremy answered a ring of 
 the desk telephone, listened to the message and hung 
 up the receiver without saying a word. 
 
 " What is it ? " asked some one. 
 
 " John Dunmeade's beaten," Jeremy answered 
 shortly. 
 
 Greene smiled contentedly. Murchell looked at the 
 clerk. 
 
 " Don't seem overjoyed, Jeremy? " 
 
 Jeremy muttered something unintelligible, his eyes 
 on the desk. 
 
 "What did you say?" Murchell leaned over, as 
 though to listen more closely, smiling quizzically. 
 
 Jeremy pushed back his chair and got to his feet. 
 He faced Murchell. 
 
 " I was sayin'," he said quaveringly, " I was sayin', 
 it's a damn shame." Then, as he looked at the other 
 old man, who had won the trophies as well as endured 
 the service of the game, all the smoldering resent 
 ment of years blazed forth. The worn old body and 
 the cracked, shrill voice shook with passion. " Over 
 joyed? No, I ain't overjoyed. If you want to know, 
 I voted fur him. It's the only man's job I ever done 
 since I come to be your heeler. You've beaten an' 
 broken him, the best man this county ever had an' 
 an' you can have me kicked out of my job, if you 
 like." 
 
 The politicians were too amazed at this unbelieva 
 ble instance of lese majeste even to laugh. Open- 
 mouthed, they watched him as, quivering with defiance 
 and the hate of the oppressed, he glared at Murchell
 
 292 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 much as in a former time he must have confronted 
 the gray charge. Only Greene's smile continued. 
 
 They expected nothing less than that the lightnings 
 would blast Jeremy where he stood. Hence, inten 
 sified stupefaction when Murchell said gravely, 
 " Jeremy, you'd better go home. We'll talk about 
 your job another time." 
 
 The old clerk turned and slowly stumped out of the 
 room. 
 
 " Jeremy," commented the senator, " seems to have 
 unearthed an unsuspected backbone." 
 
 The politicians, uncertain whether this was senatorial 
 humor or not, chose silence as the course of discre 
 tion. 
 
 Later still, after the small fry had left, came the 
 news that the Democratic party had freed itself and 
 that Jerry Brent would control its convention; which 
 meant that he would be nominated for governor. 
 And this was matter for grave concern. Until nearly 
 morning the three men discussed candidates. The 
 tenor of their conversation seemed to indicate that 
 Wash Jenkins was not assured of the Murchell sup 
 port. Nor did he seem unduly resentful because of this 
 fact. Wash was a model retainer, humbly willing to 
 take what he could get. 
 
 It was in the course of this discussion that Senator 
 Murchell said, "If John Dunmeade weren't such a 
 stubborn fool, he would be just the man to meet Brent 
 with." He spoke angrily. 
 
 Greene and Jenkins gave respectful if surprised as 
 sent.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 GOLDEN FLEECE 
 
 EVEN the city seemed to feel and respond to June. 
 One might have detected a slight retardation of 
 the hurrying of the streets, a relaxation of care-taut 
 faces. Men walked with coats flapping open to the 
 warm breeze, straw hats at jaunty angles. Messenger 
 boys dawdled and whistled, discussed blithely the 
 Steel City's prospects for the pennant. Amid the 
 roar of traffic and a multitude of shuffling feet the 
 twittering of the ubiquitous sparrow rose incongru 
 ously. 
 
 But in the financial district was no relaxation. In 
 the exchange was a howling, frenzied mob, struggling 
 desperately to speed advancing fortune or to retain 
 that which was vanishing. Clerks walked with nerv 
 ous haste from 'change to office, to bank, talked in 
 the loud voice of hysteria. Occasionally from some 
 broker's office, a man would emerge, unnoticed in the 
 general excitement, dazed and stumbling or walking 
 swiftly as though in flight from some terrible mon 
 ster. He would be one of those caught in the Ala 
 bama Iron and Coal squeeze. 
 
 A glutton, by methods that would have done credit 
 to the robber barons, had raped the treasure developed 
 by weaker brethren. And now greater barons, more 
 gluttonous, springing upon him in an unguarded mo- 
 
 293
 
 294 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 ment, by like methods were tearing the spoils from his 
 grasp. But no one saw a joke. Before it could end 
 two great banking-houses would be bankrupt, at least 
 one daring, arrogant speculator sensationally ruined 
 and a thousand little greedy ones made penniless. 
 
 The mad scramble rose to a climax. In his office 
 the man who was the storm center stood over the 
 ticker. He had struggled, with the unthinking valor 
 born of desperation, against the unwavering, relent 
 less attacks made upon him. They had forced him 
 back, farther and still farther back to his inner lines 
 of defense, into the last ditch. Driven out of that, 
 he had made a last vain stand. Now he awaited the 
 slaughter. He glared fixedly at the tape in his hand. 
 There was not a quiver in his strong, stocky body, but 
 his mouth was distorted in an unconscious evil grimace 
 that bared his teeth, as the coiling tape recorded his 
 ruin. 
 
 Suddenly the fixity broke up in an insane, helpless 
 rage that demanded physical expression. From his 
 twisted mouth came an inarticulate, wolfish cry. 
 With a convulsive jerk he snapped off the tape, kicked 
 the ticker until it fell with a crash. A clerk in the 
 outer office heard the noise and rushed in ; immediately, 
 frightened by what he saw, he withdrew, closing the 
 door behind him. 
 
 Stephen Hampden was not good to look upon as he 
 rushed up and down the room, striking and kicking 
 at the objects in his way. In an instant, it seemed, 
 all the veneer of humanity and self-control had been 
 stripped from him. He had become stark savage, a 
 primitive beast balked of his prey. His face was 
 purple, convulsed; he poured out unintelligible im-
 
 GOLDEN FLEECE 295 
 
 precations on the " curs," the " crooks," the " traitors" 
 who had broken him. He had no thought for those 
 upon whom he in his turn had fallen. He was ob 
 sessed by the passion of his defeat. 
 
 The paroxysm spent itself. He flung himself, 
 panting and still glaring, into a chair. The telephone 
 rang. He paid no attention to it. 
 
 The clerk, trembling, opened the door. " You're 
 wanted on long distance, Mr. Hampden. It's " 
 
 " I won't talk to them! " Hampden snarled back. 
 
 The clerk withdrew. Hampden made an effort to 
 recover himself, to steady his whirling brain. His 
 rage had left him weak and shaking all over. 
 
 The clerk reappeared. " Beg pardon, Mr. Hamp 
 den," he insisted timidly, " but it's Mr. Blake of New 
 Chelsea. He says he must talk to you." 
 
 "What's the fool want?" 
 
 "I I don't know, sir." 
 
 " All right." Hampden caught up the telephone. 
 He waited until the click told him that the clerk's re 
 ceiver had been hung up, then snapped. " This is 
 Hampden. What do you want? " 
 
 The precaution was unnecessary. The message was 
 strangely worded ; it would have meant nothing to an 
 outsider. But Hampden had the key. 
 
 He hung up the receiver. And for a moment he 
 allowed himself to be beaten down. Fear before a 
 danger incurred in the heat of battle, and now become 
 imminent, terrible, through the folly of another, ousted 
 rage. Mere defeat, bankruptcy, paled before this new 
 penalty which he must pay. And fear steadied him, 
 cleared his brain. He wasted no time in futile re 
 grets. His mind darted hither and thither, swift and
 
 296 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 calculating, pondering and rejecting a hundred ave 
 nues of escape from the peril which must be averted 
 before he could set out to recoup his losses. There 
 was no thought of saving Warren Blake only him 
 self. 
 
 Late in the day he went out to beg the mercy 
 he had never shown. 
 
 Katherine Hampden was alone that evening. She 
 was often alone nowadays, but not entirely because, 
 as she had told John Dunmeade, she had been as 
 signed a berth on the shelf reserved for unmarriagea- 
 ble females. There were many men who would have 
 gladly undertaken to relieve her solitude. But these 
 found her extremely unapproachable. Those whom 
 she would have welcomed most gladly had least time 
 for dalliance in drawing-rooms. Among her own sex 
 she had less opportunity for companionship. The 
 women of her uncertain set regarded her as " strong- 
 minded " and a little queer ; in their barbed gossip 
 they attributed her queerness to failure to effect a 
 well-advertised and socially advantageous marriage. 
 She in turn, not unaware of their attitude, regarded 
 them as tawdry, trifling creatures, wholly negligible, 
 a feeling which she had the good sense not to put 
 into speech. She herself was secretly skeptical of the 
 strong-mindedness so doubtfully looked upon, but she 
 was sufficiently vigorous of mind honestly to face the 
 truth. 
 
 Very gradually, very logically, in no dramatic fash 
 ion, had it dawned upon her. 
 
 And the truth was she was disappointed. Ma- 
 turer perception, quickened by a glimpse of a different
 
 GOLDEN FLEECE 297 
 
 ideal of life, had seen beyond the false setting of 
 romance behind which men seek to hide the ugliness 
 of the scramble for gold. She saw that scramble 
 as it is, not the splendid instinct of a strong 
 man joying in the match of strength against 
 strength, but unlovely, inordinate greed, before 
 which a man's soul shrivels as dry grass be 
 fore the prairie fire. She had learned, too, that 
 in the life was no place for her save that of spender, 
 of a lay figure upon whom the scrambler could hang 
 his trophies for exhibition. She would have mar 
 ried Gregg, had it not been for this and for the 
 fact that the acid of his calling was etching more and 
 more clearly upon his frank, clean exterior a picture 
 of what lay within. As it was, she had sent him 
 away. 
 
 The very vitality which a few years before had 
 demanded splendor of outlook and environment now 
 required usefulness of her. Hence membership in 
 those boards and committees of which she had spoken 
 so lightly to John Dunmeade had been sought, with 
 a smile for their triviality, not thrust upon her as a 
 social memento mori. But health and vigor of body 
 and mind called, not merely for occupation, but for 
 something vital to do. And that her life did not 
 provide. 
 
 She was waiting for her father's home-coming. 
 While she waited, she glanced through the evening 
 paper. In it the day's doings on the stock exchange 
 were featured. The account had it that Hampden 
 had been hard hit, even vaguely hinted that he might 
 have to fail. She was amazed at the lack of emotion 
 with which she read that their fortune, hitherto so
 
 298 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 potent and all-sufficing, had in a day been sadly shaken, 
 if not totally destroyed. She tried to picture to herself 
 what it must mean to them the economies, the pri 
 vations even, the loss of caste among a set that 
 measured worth by stocks and bonds. Somehow the 
 picture could not profoundly alarm; partly, perhaps, 
 because she knew too little of want to draw convin 
 cingly. She could not even feel deeply for her father, 
 although she had for him a genuine daughter's 
 affection and knew what a blow failure would be to 
 him. 
 
 "Poor father!" she smiled, half pityingly. "I 
 suppose nothing can persuade him that it isn't a hor 
 rible calamity. I ought to feel so, too, but Heigho ! 
 is this Katherine Hampden?" 
 
 She went on turning the pages of the paper, until 
 her casual glance was caught by a familiar name in 
 a satirical editorial under the caption, " A Fool 
 Errant." The fool errant was John Dunmeade, re 
 cently and happily, in the editor's opinion dis 
 posed of at the primaries. She began to read. There 
 was really nothing to the effusion more than a few bit 
 ing witticisms at the expense of a beaten man, but the 
 lack of pith and logic did not lessen the sting. Kath 
 erine did not read to the end. She suddenly tossed the 
 paper aside and sat bolt upright, a fair presentment 
 of wrath, quite unconscious that she was flushing an 
 grily. 
 
 "What a shame!" 
 
 Then the color deepened suddenly, and for another 
 reason. Memory had recalled to her something she 
 had once said to this man. " When you were a 
 broken-down, middle-aged failure. ... I should
 
 GOLDEN FLEECE 299 
 
 be looking up at the men who were conquering. 
 . . . And I should regret." 
 
 Well, her prophecy had been fulfilled sooner than 
 she had expected. He had been cast aside, even by 
 his own neighbors. She remembered how he had 
 seemd to her when they had so unexpectedly met, 
 patently discouraged, a man upon whom defeat had 
 set ineffaceable marks, and yet for all that, with 
 something large and fine about him which forbade 
 pity and commanded respect, made even such men as 
 Gregg, with their vitiated ideals, want to do him favors 
 " on general principles." 
 
 " To think that I could have said that to him ! " she 
 cried to herself. "What a cad I was! If only I 
 hadn't said ' up at the men who were conquering ' ! 
 John Dunmeade, you tower above them all." 
 
 The crimson ebbed and rose again, as she thought 
 of how she had unsexed herself before him. At the 
 time she had called it courage, had felt almost an 
 exhilaration in defying tradition. Now she was 
 ashamed, because she had lowered her woman's pride 
 ,and, even more, because it had been in the attempt 
 to lure him into the very life against which she was 
 now rebelling. It had not been courage, but a greedi 
 ness that asked for both the good and the glittering in 
 life. She had asked the impossible. . . 
 
 She was still dreaming when her father came in. 
 
 His face was haggard, set in an ugly, bitter scowl. 
 Yet something in his attitude, as he flung himself wear 
 ily into a chair, gave the lie to the defiant expres 
 sion. There was liquor on his breath, and she knew 
 that he drank only when under severe mental strain. 
 The sympathy that had lagged as she read of the
 
 300 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 wiping out of a fortune leaped when she saw the man 
 who had lost it 
 
 " Why, father, is it as bad as that ? " 
 
 " Cleaned out," he said curtly. 
 
 She went to him quickly, laying an impulsive hand 
 on his shoulder. And demonstrations of affection 
 were rare in the Hampden family. " O, well, dear, 
 never mind. It might be so much worse." 
 
 "Worse!" 
 
 " You might have been taken sick or had an acci 
 dent or or anything. O, I know that sounds fool 
 ish! And I am sorry, just for you. I know how 
 you hate to lose. But I've just been thinking how 
 nice it would be to go back home to New Chelsea 
 and start all over again in in something that 
 wouldn't take all your time. I I'd be so glad to 
 get acquainted with you again." She gave a little 
 laugh. 
 
 " You talk like a fool ! " he replied roughly. " What 
 could I do in that rube town run a grocery store ? 
 Here's where I can make money. And I can make 
 all we need, once I get things straightened out. I've 
 been broke before. The immediate question is to 
 keep out of jail." 
 
 She started back from him with a gasp. " Out 
 of jail! Father!" 
 
 Hampden, nerves on edge, himself suffering more 
 cruelly than he was ready to admit, took an unnatural 
 joy in making another suffer with him. " Out of 
 jail, I said. I'm ' into ' the New Chelsea bank and 
 I've nothing left to pay with." 
 
 " O, father, how could you? " 
 
 " Drop that tragedy-queen act ! " he rasped out. " I
 
 GOLDEN FLEECE 301 
 
 could do it very easily. It's just what every banker 
 does in a pinch. Only I'm caught." 
 
 "Is is it much?" 
 
 " It wasn't, but it is now." 
 
 " But we must pay it back. There are the bonds 
 you gave me. And the New Chelsea houses that i 
 mother owns she'll give those up. And " 
 
 " Not a third enough." 
 
 She dropped weakly into a chair, staring at him 
 foolishly. She was very pale, dazed by the sudden 
 new calamity that had fallen. Like most women 
 of her kind, she had no idea of what going to jail 
 meant, save that some vague, terrible disgrace was 
 implied. 
 
 " Quit looking like that ! " he snarled. " You're 
 shocked, ain't you? Stephen Hampden, pampering 
 and spoiling you with everything you want, is differ 
 ent from Steve Hampden broke and in danger of go 
 ing to jail, isn't he? " 
 
 That restored to her the use of her faculties. She 
 saw that the roughness was only the expression of 
 his suffering. " What you imply," she said gently, 
 " is only partly true. The rest of the truth but 
 that isn't important now. Won't some one lend you 
 the money. Henry Sanger or Mr. Grainger or Mr. 
 Flick or " She named several men of their ac- ' 
 quaintance who, she knew, had been his business as 
 sociates in the past. 
 
 " I've been to 'em all, whining and begging 
 y'understand, begging gone down on my knees to 
 'em. And they won't do a thing unless I give security. 
 The hounds! They're all in the conspiracy against 
 me. They know they've cleaned me out, haven't left
 
 302 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 me one dollar to rub against another. And they have 
 the gall to ask for security ! " 
 
 " They have been your friends and they will let 
 you go to jail ? " 
 
 " Do you think I told 'em that ? I'd as soon do 
 time as let 'em know. But it wouldn't have made 
 any difference they'd want security just the same." 
 
 " Have you seen " she hesitated " have you 
 seen Mr. Gregg? " 
 
 " Ah ! " he turned on her fiercely. " That's where 
 you come in. If you hadn't been so high and mighty 
 with your new uplift-novel notions and thrown him 
 over, he'd have been with me in this deal and between 
 us we could have stood 'em off. You can blame your 
 self for this." 
 
 " Do you," she asked quietly, " want me to go to 
 him for you now? " 
 
 " Bah ! Do you think he'd listen to you ? This 
 isn't a novel, it's real life. And besides, I've tried to 
 find him and he isn't in town. He saw what was 
 coming and sneaked away, so he wouldn't have to 
 say no if I asked him to help. He's like the rest of 
 'em." 
 
 " But surely," she insisted anxiously, " the bank 
 won't press you. They know you'll pay it all back 
 when you can." 
 
 " What do you know about it ? It isn't the bank, 
 it's the government that will make the trouble. That 
 fool Blake is in worse than I am. The bank's gutted, 
 cleaned out. And the bank examiner is overdue. If 
 he comes around now " With a gesture he sketched 
 the impending catastrophe. 
 
 Then she broke down. " O, father," she quavered,
 
 GOLDEN FLEECE 303 
 
 " how could you how could you ? Hadn't you 
 enough without st " 
 
 " Don't you ! " he growled furiously. " Don't you 
 say that. Nobody ever had enough." 
 
 " Stephen, what is the matter now? " came a languid 
 voice from the doorway. " And please, for my sake, 
 lower your voice. It's so vulgar to quarrel before 
 the servants." Mrs. Hampden entered and, with an 
 air of utter exhaustion, deposited her substantial self 
 in an easy chair. 
 
 " Father," Katherine explained, with cruel brevity, 
 " has lost his money." 
 
 It was an unexpected tonic. The invalid suddenly 
 sat bolt upright and, quite forgetting the vulgarity of 
 quarreling within the hearing of servants, almost 
 shrieked. "Lost our money? Do you mean to say, 
 Stephen Hampden, that you've been selfish enough to 
 gamble our money away after all I've suffered and 
 denied myself " 
 
 " Yes, madam, you're as poor as you were when I 
 married you. Or, at least, you will be when you've 
 signed over the properties I gave you." 
 
 " I won't do it. You gave them to me and they are 
 mine and I won't " 
 
 " Yes, you will," he interrupted savagely. " You'll 
 sell your last petticoat, if I tell you to." 
 
 She threw her hands aloft and fell back, moaning, 
 " O, in my weak condition, when my heart " 
 
 " Maria, you're a fraud." 
 
 " You say that ! When you know the doctor said " 
 
 " That you ought to eat less and walk more. And 
 even with your laziness and indulgences you're the pic 
 ture of vulgar health."
 
 304 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 " Mother," said Katherine impatiently, " I think 
 you'd better go up-stairs. Father has other things to 
 do than talk to hysterical women." 
 
 " And now my own child, for whom I've sacrificed 
 my life, turns against me! " 
 
 " Rot ! " snarled Hampden. " You've never done 
 anything for anybody except let them pet and humor 
 you all your life. Go 'way, both of you. I want to 
 be by myself." 
 
 Mrs. Hampden rose. She managed a stagger that 
 would have done credit to Bernhardt. Then, as 
 neither husband nor daughter went to her assistance, 
 she made her way, clutching at tables and chairs for 
 the doubtfully necessary support, out of the room. 
 
 Hampden growled again, unintelligibly. 
 
 "Father, isn't there something to be done?" 
 
 " Murchell. I've an appointment with him in New 
 Chelsea to-morrow. Some of his rascally politicians 
 are in as deep as Blake and I. If the bank fails, it 
 will kick up a rumpus that won't suit him a bit, I can 
 tell you." 
 
 "Can he help?" 
 
 " He can. And he's got to." 
 
 " Do you mind if I go up with you to-morrow? " 
 
 " All right. And I wish," he exclaimed queru 
 lously, " you'd go away and let me alone." 
 
 She obeyed. But at the door she stopped and 
 looked back. She saw his rough, defiant attitude dis 
 solve into one of unutterable weariness. 
 
 In her darkened room she sat by the window for 
 a long time, thinking with a feeling of sickening dis 
 gust on the sordid scene just enacted : husband and 
 wife, at a crisis when each should be giving the other
 
 GOLDEN FLEECE 305 
 
 the tender sympathy and support of those whom the 
 life force has made one, thinking only of self; her 
 father, with no sense of guilt, with no thought that 
 the shame lay in the fact and not in the discovery, 
 unreasonably bitter as though his plight were the re 
 sult of others' injustice and not of his own greed. 
 This was the other side, the unlovely other side, of 
 that splendid life of conquest for which she had put 
 the best of all aside. Thus it made victims of its vo 
 taries. 
 
 Through the open window came the whispering of 
 trees, the fragrance of flowering vine and shrubbery, 
 heavy on the damp, night air, sweet as though it came 
 not from the heart of a vast ugly city. It set her to 
 thinking of the countryside, of the town among the 
 hills she had called it home and of the man whom 
 others had cast aside.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE HONEY POT 
 
 JOHN DUNMEADE had thought that anticipation 
 would rob defeat of its sting. Not until the 
 event, until Benton County, his own neighbors, had 
 repudiated him, could he measure the hurt. There 
 was in it more than mere disappointed ambition. A 
 vital spot, he dumbly felt, had been reached. There 
 was one thing which he would do ; deep down within 
 him was the unworded resolve that it should be his 
 valedictory. 
 
 " There's something," he told Haig, a week after 
 the primaries, " that has been haunting me." 
 
 And he told the other what Sheehan had said con 
 cerning the bank. 
 
 " Old wives' tales ! " Haig grunted. 
 
 " But it might well be true." 
 
 "Well, what of it?" 
 
 " It ought to be looked into." 
 
 " Even so, what business is it of yours? You aren't 
 the guardian of the public morals. Even if you want 
 to be, the people have just clearly declared that they 
 don't. Keep out of what isn't your affair." 
 
 " But I'm still district attorney." 
 
 " All right. If anything happens or any one makes 
 official information before the end of your term, prose 
 cute." 
 
 306
 
 THE HONEY POT 307 
 
 " But I understand my duty to include uncovering 
 crime as well as prosecuting what others expose." 
 
 " How will you do it in this case? " 
 
 " I'll ask Blake to let me go over the books." 
 
 " He won't let you, of course." 
 
 " I think he will," said John thoughtfully, " if noth 
 ing is wrong. Especially when he understands that, 
 if he doesn't, I'll subpoena him with the books before 
 the grand jury. You know something about banking. 
 I want you to come along with me." 
 
 " Well, I won't do it," said Haig flatly. " And see 
 here ! Don't you make a blooming ass of yourself 
 by sticking your nose into other people's business. 
 Especially on the mere suspicion of a discredited, re 
 venge-seeking old grafter. Besides, banks are tick 
 lish affairs. First thing you know, you'll precipitate a 
 crash." 
 
 " And maybe prevent a bigger one later on. You 
 miss the point, Haig. If there's nothing wrong, there 
 will be no crash. But I have friends who have money 
 and stock in the bank. And if our political bank his 
 tory is repeating itself, they and the public have the 
 right to know it." 
 
 " John," Haig argued earnestly, " don't you do it. 
 Haven't you had enough? What's the use of making 
 more trouble and enemies for yourself?" 
 
 " I know," John said patiently. " I've gone over 
 all that. This is my last crusade. But it goes 
 through. Because, if there's anything amiss, now is 
 the time for it to come out, while it can help Jerry 
 Brent." 
 
 " Great Scott ! Have you still faith in the people ? 
 Don't you know what they'll do, if you uncover any-
 
 3o8 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 thing? Just sniff daintily around and then walk off 
 to vote for Sherrod or Jenkins or whomever the gangs 
 nominate. And as for Jerry Brent, a bumptious, ar 
 rogant, hot-headed, theatric, jealous boor " 
 
 " And an honest man," John interrupted, smiling. 
 " Why do you object so strenuously, if you think 
 there's nothing out of the way? " 
 
 " Because," said Haig bluntly, " I think it very pos 
 sible that things aren't straight at the bank. But I 
 like you and I don't want you to start a stink that 
 will end the Lord knows where and can accom 
 plish nothing. And I like Warren Blake he's a 
 good friend of yours, too and I don't want to see 
 him in trouble. Besides," he grinned, " none of my 
 money is deposited in the bank." 
 
 " Is that all you have to offer for the defense? If 
 it is are you coming along or not ? " 
 
 " I suppose," Haig grumbled, " I'll have to. You 
 need a guardian angel. Your nose is as impertinently 
 intrusive as Mrs. Hicks'. My own opinion is, the 
 people of Benton County knew exactly what they were 
 about when they decided to throw you out of your 
 job." 
 
 So it happened that at a critical time in the fortunes 
 of the bank and its officers John and Haig set out 
 on their mission. They chose an hour early in the 
 evening, after supper. They tried the bank first; it 
 w r ould be closed, but within, as all New Chelsea knew, 
 Warren Blake was apt to be found, faithfully at the 
 work that never seemed to end. 
 
 The dark green window shades had been pulled 
 down closely, but a glimmering around the edges
 
 THE HONEY POT 309 
 
 showed that a light was burning within. At the en 
 trance Haig stopped short. 
 
 " I tell you," he grumbled, " I don't like this. It 
 isn't too late to change your mind. Let's put it off, 
 anyhow." 
 
 For an instant John hesitated, then rapped on the 
 door. 
 
 Blake might have been expecting them, so promptly 
 was it thrown open. Surprise, however, was de 
 picted on his face when he beheld the visitors. 
 
 " Good evening, gentlemen. Can I do something 
 for you ? " 
 
 " We'd like to have a little talk with you, Warren," 
 said John. 
 
 " I'm pretty busy to-night," he answered. "If it 
 isn't important, can't you put it off until Monday or 
 Tuesday." 
 
 " But it is important," John insisted gravely. " It 
 concerns the bank." 
 
 "The bank?" 
 
 Suddenly Warren, by some strange intuition, knew, 
 as he had known that the market would sag, what 
 this untimely visit portended. He felt the blood leave 
 his face, rush to his heart. His hands and feet be 
 came icy cold. He stared stupidly at the visitors, as 
 though his faculties were benumbed. 
 
 "I I'm pretty busy to-night," he repeated dully. 
 " Can't you put it off until Monday ? " 
 
 " I think we'd better talk it over now, Warren," 
 John answered. 
 
 The sense of shock seemed to pass away. The 
 cashier threw the door wider open to admit them.
 
 3io HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 " Come in," he said quietly. They entered and he 
 closed and locked the door behind them. Then he 
 straightened up, all composure, to face them. 
 
 " I'll have to ask you to be brief. I'm preparing 
 some papers for Senator Murchell and Mr. Hampden, 
 and they'll be here soon." 
 
 " I'll come right to the point," John answered. 
 " Warren, I want to see the books of the bank." 
 
 " That is an unusual request," Warren said calmly. 
 "Why?" 
 
 " I've heard that you are carrying a good deal of 
 worthless political. paper and that the bank is in dan 
 ger. I want to verify or disprove that." 
 
 " That's absurd. The bank is perfectly safe. And, 
 of course, we can't let you see the books. You aren't 
 even a stock-holder and have no interest in them." 
 
 " Warren," said Haig hastily, putting his hand on 
 the cashier's shoulder, " I beg you to do as he asks. 
 We're here in a wholly friendly way. And, of course, 
 the bank is sound. You can rely on Dunmeade and 
 me to do absolutely nothing, in that case, to harm it." 
 
 Warren shook his head. " You ought to know that 
 it is out of the question." 
 
 " Then," said John regretfully, " I'll have to sub 
 poena you to appear with the books before the grand 
 jury on Monday." He drew forth two documents, 
 one of which he gave to Blake. " Is it necessary for 
 me to go through the formality of reading it to you? " 
 
 Blake did not reply. He seemed to be reading the 
 summons with his usual painstaking slowness. There 
 was not a tremor in the hand that held the paper. 
 Haig, watching with an odd sense of misgiving, saw 
 the cashier's lips curve in a queer smile.
 
 THE HONEY POT 311 
 
 John repeated the question. Blake looked up, the 
 strange smile persisting. 
 
 " Before you make this service final," he said, " I 
 suggest that you wait and explain your errand to Mur- 
 chell and Hampden. They will be here soon. Just 
 take chairs in the cage. While we're waiting, I'll fin 
 ish my work." 
 
 Haig sighed in relief. " Now that's sensible, War 
 ren. You can wait, can't you, John? " 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 Blake ushered them into the cage, found chairs, 
 offered cigars and, politely excusing himself, retired 
 into the cashier's office and settled himself at the 
 desk. Haig and John, too held by an uneasy 
 curiosity they did not try to explain, watched him. 
 For a few minutes he worked, with a speed that was 
 not nervous haste, transcribing figures from the book 
 before him and adding up columns. The latter task 
 he repeated, as though to verify the results. Then 
 he wrote a few lines and carefully blotted them. 
 
 This done, he seemed to have come to the end of 
 his work. But he did not return to John and Haig; 
 he seemed to have lost consciousness of their prox 
 imity. The pen fell from his fingers. His folded 
 hands rested passively on the desk. He sat motion 
 less, staring straight ahead into nothingness. Under 
 the gaslight his face showed very white. A heavy, 
 uncanny silence descended upon the three men. 
 
 Haig felt his misgivings return, trebly acute. 
 " Let's get out of here," he whispered. " There's 
 something horrible about that." 
 
 John's face, too, was pale. He had seen men, not 
 lacking in physical courage, receive the sentence of
 
 312 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 death in the same fixedness of attitude and gaze. " It 
 must be worse than I suspected," he muttered. He 
 wanted to accede to Haig's request. 
 
 While he hesitated, there came a rap on the door. 
 
 As though he had been waiting for just that, War 
 ren rose, went to the door and admitted the new 
 visitors. They were Hampden and Murchell. Hamp- 
 den was the first to notice the presence of John and 
 Haig. 
 
 "What are they doing here?" he demanded sus 
 piciously. 
 
 " Come back into the office and we'll explain," War 
 ren answered. " You come, too," he nodded to the 
 men within the cage. 
 
 The five men gathered in the little office. No one 
 sat down or offered to shake hands. There was a 
 tense, silent moment, during which the new-comers sur 
 veyed the others keenly; they seemed to sense some 
 thing dramatic, dangerous, impending. Warren broke 
 the silence, calmly. 
 
 " Dunmeade wants to examine the books." 
 
 " Well, he can't do it," Hampden said quickly. 
 
 " So I told him," Warren continued. " And he 
 followed the request up by serving me with a sub- 
 pcena to appear with the books before the grand jury." 
 
 " You've no right to do that." Hampden wheeled 
 sharply on John. 
 
 " Do you want to contest my right in court ? " John 
 asked quietly. 
 
 Hampden turned with a look of nervous apprehen 
 sion to Murchell. 
 
 " Why are you doing this ? " the senator demanded 
 of John.
 
 THE HONEY POT 313 
 
 " Because I have information that the bank is carry 
 ing worthless political paper and is rotten. I have 
 it from one who has helped manipulate such paper. 
 From one, in fact, whose notes, supposed to be in- 
 collectible, the bank is now trying to collect." 
 
 " And on general suspicion you would take an action 
 that might ruin the soundest bank in the country? " 
 
 " Not on general suspicion," John returned. " But 
 on absolute knowledge. There ! " He pointed to 
 Blake's face. 
 
 " And there ! " Haig's dry, shrill voice was like 
 the crack of a whip, as he aimed a long, lean fore 
 finger at Hampden. The latter recoiled as from a 
 blow. 
 
 Murchell did not look at Blake or Hampden. From 
 under wrinkled brows his eyes were boring deep into 
 John's, seeking to test the strength of the latter's de 
 termination. His mind, like a startled deer in the 
 forest, every faculty alert to. sense and locate danger, 
 too swiftly to put his thoughts into words, marshaled 
 the situation and the peril, calculated the chances. He 
 saw only one way out ; boldly he took it. 
 
 " You can see the books. Now ? " 
 
 " We may as well begin now. It will take some 
 time, I suppose." 
 
 Hampden., vainly trying to regain an appearance 
 of composure, tremblingly sat down. For a minute 
 Warren said nothing. When he did speak, it was in 
 a low, lifeless voice. 
 
 " I can save you the trouble. The statement I have 
 been preparing for Senator Murchell contains what 
 you want, I think. This is it." He pointed to the 
 papers lying on his desk.
 
 314 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 Slowly, mechanically, as one walking in sleep, he 
 gathered up the books on the desk and carried them 
 from the office to the vault. John will never know 
 why he followed, a few steps behind. He saw War 
 ren put the books in their places, then fumble around 
 in a corner of the shelf. Warren seemed to feel his 
 presence, for, hand still resting on the shelf, he turned 
 to face John. The strange smile returned. Then 
 the hand, grasping a black, shining thing, leaped 
 from the shelf to his head. John's cry and the shot rang 
 out together. 
 
 For an instant the body swayed, then crumpled in 
 a heap on the floor. 
 
 Four stunned men, held in a horrible fascination, 
 knelt by the ghastly thing, dumbly watching the 
 struggle of that which is called Life to free itself 
 from its prison of flesh. Of these men, three of them, 
 each in anguish, was calling himself murderer. The 
 twitching, greenish-white skin the half-closed, 
 bulging, glazing eyes the open mouth through which 
 the slow, convulsive breath bubbled hoarsely the 
 little hole from which blood and brains oozed like mat 
 ter from a suppurating sore, burned into each man's 
 memory, seared his soul, a picture never quite to be 
 erased. 
 
 For nearly an hour an eternity shaken to the 
 very center of their beings, they kept the death watch. 
 Sometimes one of them spoke, in some senseless sug 
 gestion to which he received no answer, expected none. 
 The hoarse, shuddering breath grew fainter, slower. 
 The twitching of the face ceased. There was a shiver 
 that passed over the whole body then stillness. No
 
 THE HONEY POT 315 
 
 one remembered to close the eyes. It lay there, more 
 awful in its staring immobility even than in the un 
 conscious contortions of the death struggle. 
 
 Haig was the first to recover himself. He caught 
 John by the arm and drew him away. He tried to 
 speak in his ordinary brisk tone. " Dead as a rab 
 bit." But his voice was harsh and quavering. 
 
 John recoiled from the grisly jest. Haig shook him 
 roughly. 
 
 " I've got to do something to brace you up 
 there's no whisky. Quit looking at it and pull your 
 self together, or you'll go to pieces. You'll think you 
 did it." 
 
 John stared at him wildly. "I I did," he mut 
 tered hoarsely. 
 
 " Put that out of your mind," Haig commanded 
 sternly. "We'll identify the murderer later. We've 
 got other things to think of now." 
 
 John released himself from Haig's clutch and 
 started for the door. Haig caught him again. " Come 
 back here." He drew John into the office and forced 
 him to sit down. " And you two, come." 
 
 Murchell seemed to come out of his daze. He 
 touched Hampden, who followed him docilely and fell 
 into a chair. 
 
 " I seem to be the only one with a trace of sanity 
 left. And I," said Haig grimly, mopping his brow 
 with a shaking hand, " I am pretty far gone. God ! 
 I didn't know it could be so awful. But we've got to 
 decide whether we'll let this how and why it hap 
 pened come out. By some miracle nobody seems 
 to have heard. If the luck holds, we may be able to 
 keep it quiet." He looked at Murchell.
 
 316 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 But a great change seemed to have come over the 
 politician during the racking hour. His face was 
 ashen; he looked old as he never had before. All the 
 firm self-reliance, the habit of domination, justified 
 through so many crises, seemed to have broken down 
 in the presence of sudden, violent death. He shook 
 his head in a hopeless negative. 
 
 " There's no use trying," he said wearily, " if you 
 go ahead with this investigation." He turned to John. 
 " It's for you to decide. If this is kept quiet and you 
 don't go on, I can save the bank maybe. But if 
 you do go on, there'll be a great scandal and I can do 
 nothing. And you've got to understand the situa 
 tion you'll have to prosecute Hampden here." 
 
 John did not answer. He was staring at the face 
 of Warren Blake. 
 
 Haig mopped his forehead again. " Let's get out 
 of here," he muttered nervously. " If I stay much 
 longer with that I'll be a gibbering idiot." 
 
 He took the dead cashier's keys from the desk, 
 turned out the light and went to the door. The others 
 followed. 
 
 They forgot to close the vault. But it was well 
 guarded. 
 
 New Chelsea had been long asleep, the streets 
 emptied, when Haig and Murchell, accompanied by the 
 doctor and undertaker stock-holders in the bank and 
 frightened into secrecy drove a roundabout course 
 by side streets and alleys to the rear door of the bank. 
 Like thieves, they entered and carried what lay there 
 out to the carriage. Then they drove away, praying
 
 THE HONEY POT 317 
 
 that no untimely passer-by had chanced to observe 
 them. 
 
 But the luck held. 
 
 Later still, with another picture a little, faded old 
 woman become in an instant a foolishly smiling child 
 burnt into their memories, Haig and Murchell 
 emerged from the home of Warren Blake. Haig 
 stopped, looking up into the sky. 
 
 " I wonder what John Dunmeade is going through 
 just now ? I can see the end. The good have no luck. 
 But how the forces of love and hate, good and ill, life 
 and death play into the hands of an evil man! But 
 sometimes he has to pay. At another time, when I 
 have settled upon the price, you and I will talk of 
 payment." He raised his hands to the stars. " And 
 there's a curse on the man responsible for this night. 
 Old man, do you say Amen ? " 
 
 He caught the other by the shoulders, peered closely 
 into his face and, laughing harshly, turned away.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 THE VULNERABLE HEEL 
 
 THROUGH a night that seemed endless, a man 
 fought a battle old as sin itself. He had sought 
 the solitude of the fields in a blind, vain wish to escape 
 the issue and the thing that filled his eyes. Now he 
 walked, now halted, now almost ran, in the struggle 
 to regain clarity of vision, to restore calm to his tor 
 tured soul. But he could not escape. And, though 
 he saw clearly how clearly, as the night wore on! 
 calm eluded him. The roadside was alive with 
 ghastly, grinning objects. 
 
 Other men might not have struggled so hard, even 
 in the weakness following shock might have yielded, 
 seeing no vital issue involved. But he, in his lonely 
 struggle, had thought so long and deeply on a great 
 underlying principle that it had become real to him, a 
 breathing, pulsing being that had a life to be taken 
 or nourished, a trust to be kept or betrayed. He had 
 come so near to greatness. And now, at an hour when 
 it seemed most to need stimulus and support, he was 
 brought face to face with the temptation to desert. It 
 was one thing in a moment of disheartenment to cry, 
 as he had cried to himself, " I have come to the end." 
 It was far different, when opportunity had come to 
 revive a sinking cause, to stay his hand. He knew 
 he had but to reach out to disclose, not an Ex- 
 
 318
 
 THE VULNERABLE HEEL 319 
 
 calibur rising out of the waters to lend invincibility 
 to him who would wield it, but a new prod for a cal 
 loused people, one fact the more to add to the knowl 
 edge, whose cumulative power in the end would 
 must carry the people forward, upward. 
 
 He had learned, too, that justice is ofttimes cruel. 
 Words of his own, now seeming almost prophetic, rang 
 insistent in his ears, "When the eternal Force, im 
 pelling humanity to its ultimate purpose, moves, many 
 individuals, blindly or by intention standing in its way, 
 must be swept aside." A magniloquent, empty phrase, 
 or a living truth ? he had that to answer and apply. 
 War could not be waged without shedding of blood. 
 A soldier dared not retreat merely because in the op 
 posing ranks were those whom he would not harm. 
 
 And he was not his own man. The knowledge he 
 had won of the vast, intricate network of crime 
 and iniquity overspreading the nation, often parading 
 under the guise of respectability, the inspiration that 
 had been given him, the fine sense that enabled him 
 to perceive the wider human relations, set him apart. 
 He assumed no exaggerated importance in believing 
 this. Whether he had or had not the splendor of in 
 tellect and temperament to incite and command revolu 
 tions and he knew he lacked that mattered not ; 
 he must serve in the capacity for which he had been 
 fitted, and with the high courage which hesitates not 
 before the necessary sacrifice. In the very fashion in 
 which he had stumbled into this crisis the chance, 
 cloudy suspicion at which he had scoffed as absurd, 
 unjustified, but that yet had impelled him to discov 
 ery he felt a command from the all-controlling 
 Force in which he believed, to go forward. He saw
 
 320 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 in the crisis a supreme test of himself, his purpose, 
 his ideal. 
 
 But there were other truths that flayed and scorched. 
 
 Vague notions of using his unshared knowledge as 
 a club to win some advantage he hastily put aside. 
 The temptation of expediency had never pressed him. 
 But there were other senses, other instincts than those 
 which revealed to him the universal brotherhood. 
 Through them the man, not the brother, spoke. 
 
 It was Hampden, Katherine and John Dunmeade 
 against the people. 
 
 And what did he owe the people, the calloused fools 
 whose knowledge, if not complete, was yet full enough 
 to show them whither they were going and whither 
 they must turn, but who trudged contentedly on, in 
 different to all but the present profit, thinking only of 
 self, repudiating and sneering at those who offered 
 honest service and counsel? The balance was all 
 against them and in his favor. And, after all, what 
 reason had he to believe that the knowledge he could 
 give would pierce their indifference? He had already 
 given them facts, the significance of which no sane 
 man could deny, and with no result save to win him 
 bitter enemies and bitterer discouragement. There 
 were exceptions yes, the Cranshawes and Criswells 
 and Sykeses; and he loved them for their simple, 
 rugged honesty. But he had already given them 
 much. Six years is not a long time measured against 
 the ages, but when they were taken from the golden 
 period of a man's life and spent in endeavor made fu 
 tile by others' unresponsiveness, they were enough, far 
 more than he owed. Let some one else now take up 
 the task to which John Dunmeade had been unequal!
 
 THE VULNERABLE HEEL 321 
 
 He saw Stephen Hampden cowering, a suddenly 
 broken, fear-palsied man, before the death agony, look 
 ing with a kind of wistfulness on the dying man's face, 
 as though in Warren Blake's example he saw a way 
 out of the tangle. A troop of miserable, pitiable fig 
 ures marched before him Slayton, Brown, Parsons, 
 Sheehan, Blake men whom he had punished, whose 
 lives he had shattered or taken in his crusade to 
 what end ? Their places had been taken by other men 
 of like kind, the world no better, no wiser, so far as 
 he could see. Must he add Hampden to the list? He 
 was not inhuman, his heart cried out against inflicting 
 further misery in behalf of a futile cause. And be 
 hind the troop marched a regiment of men and women, 
 his neighbors, whose little savings would be lost, did 
 the bank fail through his disclosures, but might be 
 preserved if Murchell's promise to intervene were kept. 
 Was there not more virtue in mercy than in punish 
 ment? 
 
 For long, in the fear of the man who knows himself 
 weakening, he refused to face the crucial fact. But 
 he had to come to it to her at last. He saw 
 her as he had last seen her, the rose in bloom, a 
 strong woman refined and softened by some heart 
 process of which he knew nothing. If he went for 
 ward, he must cloud the splendor and beauty of her 
 womanhood with disgrace and suffering. He revolted 
 against the thought why must she, innocent, and at 
 his hand, be made to suffer the penalty that others had 
 earned? Could he strike the blow? It made no dif 
 ference that she had flouted him for unworthy things. 
 As once before nothing that she could say had added 
 to the temptation that lay in her very existence, so
 
 322 -HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 now nothing that she had done could take from the 
 fact of his love. For it lived. He could find through 
 the years in unceasing work an anodyne to deaden the 
 ache, but on this his Mount Olivet it lived again, a 
 throbbing passion that submerged all things else. He 
 had not the strength of God, he told himself; he could 
 not be so merciless to her, to himself. 
 
 And he had he not through many failures earned 
 the right to show mercy? Those failures passed in 
 review before him. He had hewed close to the line, 
 and he had nothing to show for it. His finicalness 
 had not always been wise. There was the case of the 
 coal company. He had refused to share in it, seeing 
 it a besmirched transaction, and it had resulted in 
 nothing but good. A great natural storehouse had 
 been opened, the world made richer, and the 
 friends for whom he had feared had been given sub 
 stantial release from care. He clung tenaciously to 
 this evidence of his fallibility; he arraigned himself 
 under a charge of incompetence and conceit. What 
 right had he to think that his lips had been touched 
 by a live coal from the altar, his heart granted infalli 
 bility of inspiration? 
 
 And always, even while the habit of years answered 
 the pleas of his temptation, he saw the faces of Kath- 
 erine, of her father and of Warren Blake. Espe 
 cially the face of Warren Blake. He tried to shake 
 himself free of it and could not. It leered at him 
 from the roadside, danced ghastly before him, sprang 
 out at him from behind tree and stump, torturing, ac 
 cusing him. It became an obsession. To escape it, 
 he fled homeward in the waning night. The thing 
 followed, racking his nerves with the vision : the
 
 THE VULNERABLE HEEL 323 
 
 twitching, livid skin the starting, glazing eyes 
 the open mouth through which the spasmodic breath 
 came stertorously the little hole oozing bloody mat 
 ter. It was one thing too many; he felt it was driv 
 ing him to the end of endurance. 
 
 He prayed feverishly for daylight. 
 
 By his window, as once he had watched a dawn of 
 promise, he saw it come, but without promise. The 
 sky over the eastern hills began to whiten. In the 
 valley night became twilight. Gradually, like order 
 coming out of chaos, the vague black mass before him 
 took form as the blue-green hills that he knew. It 
 was day, the grisly vision dimmed. 
 
 At last, the battle ended, too tired to seek his bed, 
 he fell asleep in the chair. 
 
 He was awakened by the ringing of the church- 
 bells. 
 
 It was a clear morning, the sun shining brilliantly. 
 The peace of the Sabbath lay over all. The mellow, lin 
 gering resonance of the bells and the twittering of the 
 birds served only to deepen the calm that had fallen. 
 Along Main Street moved, with sedate stride, the 
 weekly procession of church-goers, clad in sober Sun 
 day raiment and wearing the grave aspect required 
 of those about to engage in divinely-appointed rites. 
 Not even the news which they would receive in church, 
 that Warren Blake had dropped dead of heart failure 
 grim jest! would disturb their gravity. For the 
 news would be accompanied by assurances from Sena 
 tor Murchell and Stephen Hampden that the bank 
 would be in nowise affected. 
 
 The bells became silent, the hush deepened. From
 
 324 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 the neighboring church, so near that he could almost 
 hear the words, came the voice of the congregation 
 in the doxology, Praise God from whom ail blessings 
 flow. It called forth no response from him. 
 
 He rose from his seat by the window and, obedient 
 to the command of habit, made his morning toilet. 
 When he was dressed he returned to the window. 
 He was very tired. His will, as though worn out by 
 the scene and struggle of the night, could not shake 
 off the heavy mental and physical lassitude that op 
 pressed him. Once he tried to recall the horror he 
 had seen, but his inert mind balked. He did not think 
 of what he would or would not do. He was con 
 scious of no sensation, save the desire to drink in the 
 sunshine; it seemed as though he could never again 
 have enough sunshine. And he wondered how long 
 it must be before darkness would cease to revivify the 
 horror for him. 
 
 With sluggish curiosity he watched the figure of a 
 woman walking down the street. Not until she turned 
 in at the gate did he recognize her. There was no 
 glad start. On the contrary a muttered, querulous 
 protest escaped him. He did not wish to see her just 
 then. 
 
 He waited until there was a knock on the door and 
 the voice of the Dunmeades' only servant called him, 
 " Mr. John, you're wanted down-stairs." 
 
 Reluctantly he rose and went down to the library. 
 She was standing at a southern window through which 
 the sun poured its golden flood. She heard him enter 
 and turned. He halted, just within the door. For a 
 moment, silent, they looked at each other across the 
 sunlit room.
 
 THE VULNERABLE HEEL 325 
 
 The inward protest died. Neither amid the mists 
 of the morning nor facing the sunset glory nor be 
 neath the white splendor of the moon, had she ever 
 seemed to him so desirable as now, framed by the 
 morning radiance. Yet she was less beautiful, as men 
 measure physical charm. She, too, had had her night of 
 horror and it had left its mark upon her. There was 
 no color in her face save the shadows under her eyes. 
 She seemed very tired, though she held herself firmly 
 erect. But there was about her a new something 
 the humility of a strong, chastened woman, whose 
 pride, but not whose courage, has been touched. And 
 there was in her look that which he was glad to believe 
 for a little while. He thought it could not last 
 long. But in an instant it raised to life the burning 
 hopes and longings which for five years he had sup 
 pressed, had believed dead, even if that which evoked 
 them still lived. 
 
 He could not understand then that the look spoke 
 something which neither his strength nor his weak 
 ness could alter, which would glow the stronger for 
 weakness, because she understood. And he did not 
 know that her look was the answer to what he was 
 mutely telling her. 
 
 There was no other greeting. 
 
 It was she who, with the brave directness that had 
 always been hers, first broke the silence. 
 
 " I have heard what what happened last night. 
 And I have come to ask you to do nothing that will 
 harm my father." 
 
 Unconsciously his face darkened. It was not be 
 cause of her request, but because of the picture she 
 recalled. " I supposed it was for that. You have "
 
 3 26 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 He would have said, " no need to ask." But she mis 
 understood and interrupted quickly. 
 
 " I have no right to ask this or anything of you? 
 I know that, more clearly than you can tell me. I put 
 you in the way of unhappiness and then chose against 
 you for things for things of no value. It may give 
 you some satisfaction to know that they are gone 
 though you can hardly believe that the taste for them 
 went first." 
 
 " I am not so small as to find satisfaction in that. 
 I didn't mean what you think, but that " 
 
 " Please hear me out. I have no right to ask it on 
 any account. I realize how much I am asking of you. 
 I made them explain the situation fully to me, and I 
 understand your point of view. You have an oppor 
 tunity to advance the cause you have worked so hard 
 for, and you believe you have no right to hold back to 
 save unworthy men. I I think you are right." 
 
 " You think me right ! " 
 
 " Yes. Last winter I told you you have doubt 
 less forgotten " 
 
 " I have not forgotten." 
 
 " I told you my notions of many things have 
 changed. That is true. You are right and yet I 
 ask it." 
 
 " I don't understand " 
 
 " How I can be so inconsistent? " she smiled wanly. 
 " That should be very easy for you to understand. I 
 my father and Senator Murchell, the men who will 
 profit by your silence, deserve nothing at your hands, 
 at anybody's. I can't pretend that they would show 
 mercy to you. But my father, at least, is a broken
 
 THE VULNERABLE HEEL 327 
 
 man. Last night took away his courage. He believes 
 that he is responsible for Warren Blake's " 
 
 " No ! " She saw him shudder and draw back. 
 " No ! I, with my rashness, am to blame for that." 
 
 " Ah ! you mustn't say that." She took a step for 
 ward, eager in his defense. " I know what you've 
 been through and how it must have given you the 
 horrors. But you mustn't say that. Nobody could 
 think it. You only did your duty. The men who 
 led him into temptation are to blame, my father most 
 of all. And I have no defense for him. I I don't 
 think I can ever greatly respect him again or even 
 deeply love him. He isn't worthy of your considera 
 tion. But I don't think he will ever commit another 
 crime, even if he has the chance. And he is my 
 father. 
 
 " You think," she went on steadily, " that it is only 
 my own selfish vanity that is concerned. It is partly 
 that, I suppose. But it is more that I'm afraid for 
 him. He is half-crazed from fear and shock, I think 
 I couldn't endure many more nights like last night. 
 I didn't dare leave him alone. Even to come here I 
 had to call in Senator Murchell. And I'm afraid, if it 
 all comes out, he'll take Warren Blake's way out " 
 
 " Don't ! " he cried roughly, as if in pain. " I've 
 gone over it all." 
 
 " I'm not trying to frighten you. And I didn't 
 want to to come to you." The steadiness was leav 
 ing her. She thought she saw in his lack of response 
 a hostile determination. " I have no right to ask a 
 man such as you are to sacrifice himself, his con 
 science for such a man. I can offer no no adequate
 
 328 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 return. But he is my father, and it is not it can 
 not be so very wrong to err on the side of mercy. 
 And once you said you cared " 
 
 " It was true. It has always been true ! " 
 
 His voice was dull, hopeless. But her pallor was 
 suddenly lost in the rush of crimson. Her hands be 
 hind her clutched at the curtains. 
 
 '' You said once I a rich woman would have to 
 come to you willingly on your terms. We are 
 no longer rich. But I I do not find it so easy to 
 unsex myself " 
 
 He misunderstood, but he took pity on her. " You 
 don't unsex yourself," he said wearily, " since I've 
 just told you I care. But we don't need to introduce 
 melodrama, do we? What I will do will not be be 
 cause you ask it, but because it is for you. And not 
 for a price. And you haven't thought it out very 
 clearly, have you ? what you mean is impossible in 
 any case. If I went on with the investigation, you 
 couldn't love the man who was prosecuting your 
 father. And, just because you understand what is 
 right in the case and are what you are, you couldn't 
 respect and so couldn't love the man who weakly did 
 what was wrong to him even for you. And just 
 now you are very anxious to save your father." 
 
 The flood of crimson ebbed. She looked at him 
 strangely. " Do you believe that ? " 
 
 " I know it. But you needn't be afraid any longer. 
 Your father is safe, so far as I am concerned. That 
 was settled before you came." 
 
 She turned from him, in an immeasureable relief, 
 to look out of the window. The voice of the congre 
 gation rose again in the closing hymn, Onward,
 
 THE VULNERABLE HEEL 329 
 
 Christian Soldier! She listened. Her brave, up 
 right carriage relaxed, her head drooped, .as though, 
 the strain of suspense released, the fatigue of two 
 sleepless nights had suddenly made itself felt. He 
 filled his eyes and heart with the picture of her there, 
 the golden radiance streaming about her and striking 
 the answering glint of fire from her hair. Uncon 
 sciously he moved toward her, until he could almost 
 have touched her arm. They listened in silence as the 
 strains of the battle-song that all can sing rose tri 
 umphant. But to him it seemed the very refinement 
 of irony. She guessed what he was thinking. 
 
 The hymn ended. She raised her head and faced 
 him, unshed tears in her eyes. 
 
 " John Dunmeade," she cried, " I don't know yet 
 how much of what you have said is true. And I don't 
 know whether you have been weak or strong. But 
 there are finer things than the strength of heartless 
 justice. One of them is must be to be merciful, 
 to want to show mercy where you owe none, where 
 you believe you can gain nothing; as you have done. 
 I can't I shan't try to thank you. But I shall al 
 ways be praying for you all the good things you have 
 earned, as you go and you will go onward." 
 
 He merely repeated an old saying, " I haven't 
 thought as far ahead as to-morrow." 
 
 " And now," he added quietly, " you'd better go, 
 before church lets out. If people saw you here, it 
 might set them thinking." 
 
 He followed her to the door.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 WHO PAYS? 
 
 WARREN BLAKE'S body was buried, and his 
 tragedy with it. The luck had held to the last ; 
 no suspicion of a lurking mystery had been breathed. 
 And William Murchell returned from the funeral to 
 a birth. 
 
 His enemies have called him inhuman, lacking in 
 moral sensibility ; there are episodes in his career which 
 support the charge. But deep down within him had 
 always lain something that, long pregnating, now 
 fought to win to the light. He had felt it move first 
 when a hot-eyed young reformer with more passion 
 than truth had declared the strategy, of which the 
 master was so proud, to be nothing but the furtive 
 workings of primitive, dishonest craft. It had 
 stirred again in a moment of resentment when with 
 bitter cynicism he had recounted his services to a 
 treacherous monarch; and again in the depression of 
 unaccustomed defeat and illness ; and yet again when 
 a humiliated, rage-shaken enemy had drawn an ugly 
 comparison. And as, keen mind tracing back with 
 lightning swiftness to prime causes, he had watched 
 the death-throes of Warren Blake, it had begun the 
 final struggle for complete, distinct life. New life is 
 not brought forth without agony. And the soul of 
 Murchell writhed in labor. It was not physical hor- 
 
 330
 
 WHO PAYS? 33 r 
 
 TOT; that, though older and weaker in body than John 
 Dunmeade, he had overcome while the other was being 
 overwhelmed. It was spiritual revolt, and it shattered 
 the smug complacency with which he had always ob 
 served himself, rent the tissues of lies and hypocrisies 
 with which he had defended his achievements. He 
 was suddenly arraigned before himself, become by 
 the tragedy most pitiless of judges. Startled, an 
 gered, protesting as at some gross outrage put upon 
 him, the habit of a lifetime strove to strangle the 
 new being at its very birth in vain. 
 
 The vigorous mentality that had hungered and 
 thirsted for action, lusted for sharp combat, sought 
 insatiably for power and ever more power, now turned 
 upon himself; with precise, merciless strokes dissected 
 his life for him, revealed its essential ugliness, dis 
 closed overlooked potentialities. There is no fact 
 more tragic than the strong man, who has battled un 
 ceasingly, confronted with the truth that his striving 
 has been worthless, purposeless. And not always 
 does the dazzling, white light of revelation come to- 
 men while there is yet time to perceive and serve the 
 new purpose. To Murchell, purpose had not yet come, 
 but the sordidness, the narrowness, the cruelty of 
 strength misused, he saw. 
 
 It was the evening after the funeral. He was 
 alone in his library. But he was not reading. He 
 was angrily watching the gathering of a belated force 
 in his existence. 
 
 He frowned when from the hall came the sounds 
 of altercation, heated on one side and coolly confident 
 on the other. Then the door was thrown open and 
 Haig, followed by the protestant man-servant, entered.
 
 33.2 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 The novelist briskly crossed the room and planted 
 himself in a chair before Murchell. 
 
 The involuntary host greeted him inhospitably. " I 
 told Jim I would see nobody to-night." 
 
 " So the Ethiop told me," said Haig blandly, " but 
 I assured him that I had an appointment. And so I 
 had. I promised myself to come to see you to-night." 
 
 Murchell waved to the servant, who promptly dis 
 appeared. " Well, what do you want ? " 
 
 " You remember, Saturday night I said you and I 
 would have to discuss the matter of payment? ' The 
 time has come, the walrus said.' ' 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Senator Murchell, have you a conscience ? " 
 
 " Are you trying to be impertinent, young man ? " 
 
 "How impertinent? A conscience isn't necessarily 
 disgraceful, though it's often a nuisance. I'm merely 
 trying to verify an impression. The other night, 
 while you were watching Warren Blake die, I got the 
 notion that you had one." 
 
 " No doubt, you were vastly surprised ! " Very 
 sarcastic, this. 
 
 " Since you ask me, I was. I have always shared 
 the present popular opinion of you." 
 
 "Humph!" 
 
 " Exactly! Senator, you have the gift of using the 
 right word. A thousand Solomons couldn't have ap 
 praised the value of public opinion more nicely than 
 that * Humph ! ' However, your conscience is prob 
 ably so minute as to be inconsiderable." 
 
 He leaned back comfortably, placed his finger-tips 
 accurately together and began to unburden himself. 
 " Well, it's all over. Warren Blake is out of the
 
 WHO PAYS? 333 
 
 way. Hampden won't be disgraced. There's to be 
 no scandal. Your plans to save the bank are under 
 way. Other plans of yours are no longer in jeopardy. 
 So it's time to think of payment. I just dropped in 
 to inquire, what is the market price of souls at pres 
 ent?" 
 
 "Souls?" 
 
 " Precisely. They're a chief article of commerce 
 among you politicians, I believe. There's Dun- 
 meade's, for instance. I have just come from him. 
 He isn't a very happy man, Senator Murchell. He's 
 oppressed by the knowledge that he has been weak. 
 He has lost his pride, his belief in himself, his sense 
 of absolute honesty call it soul for short. The 
 poor fool even thinks he is to blame for Warren 
 Blake's shooting himself. Ah! you smile? " 
 
 " I wasn't aware of smiling," said Murchell shortly. 
 
 " Well, you ought to. The notion is absurd, of 
 course. You and I know better. We know who 
 killed Cock Robin." Haig laughed insinuatingly. 
 
 " You have a strange sense of humor. Just what 
 are you trying to insinuate ? " 
 
 " I mean that we know that the man who killed 
 Warren Blake was the man who killed Creighton, 
 Hawkins, Delehanty, Burns, Schneider and Larkin. 
 And he's the fellow that created an atmosphere of dis 
 honesty in political banks and public treasuries, made 
 opportunities for thievery, encouraged and profited by 
 peculation in short, the man who devised and built 
 the machine whose creatures and victims have paid 
 the penalty of their crimes with suicide. Do I make 
 myself clear? I'd hate to have that list of suicides 
 on my conscience Creighton, Hawkins, Delehanty,
 
 334 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 Burns, Schneider, Larkin, each with the messy little 
 hole in his head, the starting, glazing eyes, the 
 Ugh! You know what it looks like now. And you 
 can cut another notch in your gun, Senator Murchell 
 for Warren Blake." 
 
 Murchell sat up angrily. " That isn't true. I'm 
 not responsible if a few weaklings aren't able to resist 
 temptation and take the easiest way out." 
 
 " It was Cain, I believe," Haig purred, " who first 
 pleaded that excuse." 
 
 " See here, Haig! I'm a patient man." His man 
 ner hardly supported this statement. " But there are 
 limits to my patience, even when talking to a rattle 
 brained eccentric. If you have anything important to 
 say, say it. Otherwise " 
 
 Haig leaned over, interrupting. " When he can't 
 help himself, a patient man listens to whatever is said 
 to him. Just now you can't help yourself. And," 
 he added menacingly, tapping the senator's knee to 
 emphasize his words, " I'd advise you to listen. Will 
 you?" 
 
 " Go on." 
 
 " That's sensible." Haig resumed his easy attitude. 
 " All this is important as leading up to our discussion 
 of the value of souls. Let's take up Dunmeade's case. 
 We have a brave, if not very successful, fighter for a 
 Cause a Cause, you understand, with a capital C. 
 He stumbles upon a bit of information that seems to 
 require certain action. He enters upon that action 
 and finds worse than he expected. Warren Blake 
 shoots himself. A scandal impends. Hampden is 
 threatened with disgrace perhaps worse. And 
 Dunmeade stops. He pays for the privilege of stop-
 
 WHO PAYS? 335 
 
 ping with some peace of mind and self-respect. That 
 ought to be worth something to you, oughtn't it? " 
 
 " He didn't do it for me." 
 
 " You anticipate the argument, Senator. It is true, 
 he didn't do it for you. He did it for Katherine 
 Hampden. You and I don't think much of her, a 
 mannish, passionate, forward thing with the savage's 
 weakness for brilliant gewgaws. But the man's in 
 love with her. Still, that isn't the point. It is 
 something of value has been rendered, and the one 
 who profits most by it will have to pay for it. You 
 see that, don't you?" 
 
 " Get on with what you have to say." 
 
 " Dunmeade's mouth is closed. The question now 
 is, who profits most by his silence and hence will have 
 to pay? It isn't Hampden. I think I understand the 
 political situation pretty well. Just now, when you're 
 trying to scramble back into power and Jerry Brent 
 has taken their convention out of the hands of your 
 Democratic friends, for another bank in which you 
 politicians have had your dirty fingers to fail, with 
 another cashier putting a messy little hole in his head, 
 would be most inopportune. Also, you've put up 
 money to cover Hampden's shortage. I've never 
 heard you accused of doing anything for anybody 
 without return. And since you've put up a lot of 
 money without security, it must be because silence 
 just now is peculiarly valuable to you. Now do you 
 get the point ? Are you ready to pay ? " 
 
 " Haven't I paid enough? " 
 
 " Can you ever pay enough to balance what Warren 
 Blake and John Dunmeade have paid? " 
 
 " What do you want then ? "
 
 336 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 " Well, you're trying to get back into power through 
 the convention. The general impression is that you 
 can't beat Sherrod. But I guess differently. You're 
 not the kind of man to go back into the scramble un 
 less the chances for a win are pretty good. Well 
 nominate John Dunmeade." He paused in astonish 
 ment. " Eh ? You're not surprised ? You've thought 
 of it yourself, then! " 
 
 " The thing," exclaimed Murchell, and extreme irri 
 tation was speaking, " is preposterous ! " 
 
 "You have thought of it as much as that, then? 
 But why preposterous to nominate a fine, big, honest 
 man? He has ability. His record is flawless, or will 
 be so long as this bank business doesn't come out. 
 He has the respect of everybody, even yours, though 
 a stiff-necked and rebellious generation has cast him 
 aside. Measure him against Wash Jenkins or any 
 one of your kind you choose; his character is some 
 thing you haven't been able to go to the people with 
 for many a year in this state. And his nomination 
 would pull the teeth of dangerous Jerry Brent." 
 
 " Power," said the senator virtuously, " isn't to be 
 taken lightly. Even if I could do it, which isn't 
 probable, I certainly don't propose to make a joke, a 
 fool, of myself before the political public by helping 
 a narrow, pig-headed, unpractical romancer to a pow 
 erful office. The wrong man in power can do a ter 
 rible amount of damage, young man." 
 
 " Yes, that's been proven," said Haig dryly. " But 
 ' unpractical ' and ' romancer ' you need a new point 
 of view, Senator. Just what is romance? Gilding 
 the truth, of course, to make it seem beautiful when 
 it is ugly, giving the appearance of value to what has
 
 WHO PAYS? 337 
 
 none. And what is a practical man but one who sees 
 and understands the needs of men and honestly tries 
 to serve them, offers an easy, simple avenue to hu 
 manity's goal, which, I take it, is happiness. Your 
 man of wealth, continually grabbing for more than he 
 can possibly consume or wisely use, is the true ro 
 mancer. Your boss, who sees something beautiful in 
 naked, purposeless power, is another. You are a ro 
 mancer, Senator Murchell. John Dunmeade is the 
 most practical man I know, because he sees true, sees 
 evil as evil and good as good. If the world were to 
 adopt his ideal of subordination of self, happiness, 
 universal happiness, would be attained in a day. To 
 be more specific, if this state were to follow his ideal 
 of simple, straightforward, common-sense honesty, 
 political corruption would cease to exist, a vast amount 
 of injustice would be corrected and popular govern 
 ment justified." 
 
 " It can't be done." 
 
 " You mean it won't be done. It can be. It won't 
 be done because the world is so full of romancers, for 
 ever chasing the valueless, that a really practical man, 
 offering a natural, logical solution of its difficulties, 
 isn't listened to. You'll have to find another excuse, 
 Senator Murchell." 
 
 " Well, then," said the senator grimly, " you may 
 put it that I, a seeker after the valueless, don't propose 
 to help a practical man who has rejected my honest 
 offer of friendship and spent six years villifying me 
 before the people of this state." 
 
 " So that's why it's preposterous ? That's the meas 
 ure of your sort, is it ? Fighting you, telling the truth 
 about you, are what disqualify a man for public office.
 
 338 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 You grind everybody, everything life, death, trag 
 edy, love in the mills of your greedy ambition, and 
 you are willing to pay only the least penny you must. 
 Blake the suicide, Hampden the embezzler, Dunmeade 
 the lover, are but so many pawns in the game of Mur- 
 chell the can you give me the word ? " 
 
 " Your vivid imagination ought to be equal to that." 
 But the senator began to feel that he was nearing the 
 point where patience ceased to be a virtue. 
 
 " For once it balks. But that's of incidental im 
 portance. I have seldom received so low a compli 
 ment. I am overlooked in this situation. I, too, am 
 a passive pawn in the game of Murchell, to be moved 
 or disregarded as he chooses! Dunmeade's mouth is 
 closed. But, Senator Murchell, I know as much as 
 he." He sprang to his feet. " What's to hinder me 
 from publishing the scandal, from telling the people 
 that another bank has been looted by the politicians, 
 another added to the list of Creighton, Hawkins, Dele- 
 hanty " 
 
 " I thought we'd come to that. I'm not easily 
 frightened, Haig. You won't do it." 
 
 Haig seated himself on the table, the homely, ca 
 daverous features lighting up in a sardonic grin. 
 " Now the funny part of it is, you aren't sure whether 
 I'm bluffing or not. Let me assure you, I am not. 
 We're a pretty triangle, each with the drop on the man 
 in front of him. You hold over Dunmeade's head 
 the fact of Hampden's disgrace, he gets me with his 
 friendship, and I can bring you down with my knowl 
 edge of this bank business. I'd hate to lose Dun 
 meade's regard by confronting him with the necessity 
 of prosecuting his lady-love's father. But, by the
 
 WHO PAYS? 339 
 
 Lord! I'm not afraid to fire first. And I think you 
 believe that." 
 
 Murchell did not answer. He was making a strong 
 effort to control his rising irritation. But he listened 
 intently because he did not know Haig well enough 
 to decide whether the latter was really dangerous. 
 
 " You think my motive is lacking, perhaps? " Haig 
 inquired coolly. " I'll come to that in time. Do you 
 know how I'd figure out the situation, if I were you? 
 I'd say to myself, ' Here am I, a dry-veined old Phari 
 see, trying to climb back into power after the people 
 and the interests I've lied, thieved and corrupted for 
 have kicked me out. Out of all the years of my po 
 litical life I haven't one fine piece of statesmanship, 
 one great, substantial thing done for the people whose 
 government I have stolen, to justify my career.' You 
 haven't such a justification, have you? I'll let you be 
 the judge. Name it and I'll walk right out of this 
 room, taking my request with me." 
 
 " When I undertake to defend myself," said Mur 
 chell with such coldness as he could achieve, " it will 
 be before a less prejudiced judge." 
 
 " You're to be the judge, not I. Name the one 
 fine, decent, vital thing that will clear your path." 
 
 He waited. 
 
 Murchell was angry now, far angrier than when 
 Sherrod had drawn his comparison. And he needed 
 anger, not as a defense to Haig's assault on his com 
 placency, but because what he had just heard was an 
 echo of what the new-born inner monitor had been 
 declaring. 
 
 " He can't ! He can't justify himself ! " Haig had 
 a nasty, sneering laugh that grated on the nerves.
 
 340 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 " And then," he went on remorselessly, " I'd say, 
 ' In the little time left me I can't make up with good 
 for the evil I've done. Death-bed repentance isn't 
 worth much. But there's John Dunmeade. I am 
 what I call a practical man that last refinement of 
 the type, a practical politician and I can't under 
 stand it, but I know that Dunmeade is a man to whom 
 honesty, decency, patriotism empty words to most 
 men really have a meaning. There are a few such 
 men. He has fought honestly in the face of defeat 
 for something I have no use for, an ideal, a thing that 
 only such fools as dreamers, poets and novelists be 
 lieve in. And now, through love for a woman who 
 isn't worth while, he has committed what to him is a 
 weakness. I can't understand how compromise with 
 conscience should bring suffering to a man, but I know 
 it means that to him. And I profit by it. I can't 
 rub out the record of the six no, seven men, each 
 with the messy little hole in his head, nor of the 
 thousands of others who have sold their souls to 
 make me rich and powerful. But, instead of 
 sneaking back into my old place as corrupter-in-chief 
 to Big Money, I can make Dunmeade's weakness worth 
 something. I can enter one decent achievement on 
 the blank side of my ledger. I can put an honest man 
 where he can accomplish a little of the good he has 
 dreamed of doing/ 
 
 " And then, even if the thought of having some 
 justification for my existence didn't stir me, I'd say, 
 * And here's Haig, the melodramatic, rattle-brained 
 eccentric, who has come here thinking he could arouse 
 what I haven't got a conscience. And Haig has 
 an old grudge against me to wipe out.' '
 
 WHO PAYS? 341 
 
 " What have I ever done to you ? " 
 
 " Now for my motive. Do you remember Wrenn 
 George Wrenn of Clarion? Or have there been so 
 many Wrenns that you can't keep track of them? Let 
 me tell you his story. He was a preacher, not a very 
 strong man, but a fine, big, clean-hearted fellow 
 something like John Dunmeade who believed in his 
 fellowmen and loved them, the kind that would sit 
 up all night with any poor, suffering wretch or share 
 his last dollar with those who needed it less than he 
 did. Everybody loved him. He married a widow 
 who had one son. He was a good husband, and a 
 perfect father to that boy. I know, because I was 
 the boy. They had a reform wavelet in Clarion and 
 sent Wrenn to the legislature. That was the year 
 you almost failed of reelection to the senate. It cost 
 you a million and a quarter to win, you may remem 
 ber. There was a point where you needed just one 
 vote, and your decoys got after Wrenn. He held out 
 for a while, but O, you know how it works. He 
 was poor, there was more money in sight than he had 
 ever heard of, and they found his price at seven 
 teen thousand dollars. And he was cheap, too, com 
 paratively. I think he must have been temporarily 
 out of his mind, for he didn't really care for money. 
 He went home, a shame-broken man. They couldn't 
 prove it on him, but everybody knew he had taken 
 money. They turned against him, his wife died 
 broken-hearted and he had to leave Clarion. The 
 money was soon spent; that kind never lasts. He 
 went down-hill fast and finally, a miserable, drunken 
 wretch, he put a bullet through his head. I saw him 
 do it just as Warren Blake did it. So you can cut
 
 342 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 still another notch in your gun. Eight on the list now 
 Creighton " 
 
 "Quit that!" 
 
 "Good God!" Haig jeered. "I believe he has a 
 conscience, after all. Can you sleep o' nights, Senator 
 Murchell?" 
 
 Murchell got slowly to his feet, in his eyes a light 
 so terrible that even Haig for a moment was startled. 
 
 "You you " 
 
 Haig laughed insolently. " Go on, Caiaphas, say 
 it. Say the thing that will restore your smug com 
 placency." 
 
 But it was not said. 
 
 White heat consumes quickly. The dumb passion 
 soon burned itself out. The rigid pose melted into 
 one of utter weariness. 
 
 Haig watched, incredulous yet pitiless. " I sup 
 pose," he said, " if I put it in a book, nobody would 
 believe it. I don't know that I believe it myself, yet. 
 But you can understand now that I am sufficiently 
 dangerous to er merit your consideration?" 
 
 " He wouldn't take it at my hands." The arro 
 gant habit of a lifetime had ceased to protest. 
 
 "Dunmeade? O, that's a problem in psychology. 
 I think he will. In fact, I know it, since I came here 
 with full power of attorney from him. With men 
 like Dunmeade the first compromise is the crucial one. 
 As to means, you will find him more tractable, I fancy. 
 My own opinion is, he will be a more useful man for. 
 it. He won't be very happy at first, though. I'll be 
 saying good night." 
 
 He took a few steps toward the door, then stopped,
 
 WHO PAYS? 343^ 
 
 hesitating. He turned back. His insolent, overbear 
 ing manner fell from him. 
 
 " Senator," he said quietly, " I may have overdone 
 it. Wrenn, Blake, all those fellows, aren't worth a 
 qualm. Dunmeade is " 
 
 But Murchell was not listening. He had forgotten 
 Haig. He was watching the second birth of a young 
 man who once had been. 
 
 Not the next day, nor the next, but on the third, 
 the travail ended, William Murchell emerged from his 
 brief, mysterious retirement, to place himself at the 
 head of his clamorous troops. It has been said that 
 the campaign which followed was the most brilliant 
 of his career.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 THE BIG LIFE 
 
 day John Dunmeade stood before the people 
 of his state a lonely figure, almost forgotten amid 
 the tumult of discussion that raged over the respective 
 merits of Sherrod and Jenkins. On the next a few 
 heads turned questioningly toward him, a few news 
 papers began darkly to hint that his candidacy might 
 be more formidable than had been supposed. The exi 
 gencies of the Republican case, it seemed, demanded 
 that Jerry Brent be met with a candidate of equal or 
 greater fitness ; and neither Jenkins nor Sherrod were 
 entirely palatable to the people. Other molders of 
 opinion followed suit. Soon a small host of them 
 were shrieking that John Dunmeade must be nom 
 inated. The times required it, the people demanded 
 it, no one else could beat Jerry Brent; in short, if these 
 members of the press were to be believed, the Repub 
 lican party was in danger of defeat and had experi 
 enced a timely conviction of sin. Within a few days 
 half the newspapers of the state were loudly trumpet 
 ing that Dunmeade's services to his party must be re 
 warded ; the other half laboriously denying that service 
 had been rendered and sneeringly pointing to the late 
 primaries in Benton County as evidence of his popu 
 lar weakness. In the general uproar the plaintive 
 
 344
 
 THE BIG LIFE 345 
 
 piping of the New Chelsea Globe, veraciously claim 
 ing to have been first to support the Dunmeade boom, 
 was almost lost. 
 
 No one suspected a prompter. 
 
 The people, so insistently told that they demanded 
 the choice of the young reformer, began to believe it. 
 A surprising number suddenly discovered that they 
 " had always been for Dunmeade anyway " ; they were 
 exceedingly proud of the fact. The thing was con 
 tagious. Gradual but swift as the rising Chinook, it 
 swept over the state, a flood of enthusiasm. Part 
 of it was genuine; far down in their hearts, beneath 
 the calloused crust, the moral sluggishness that hated 
 change, lay a germinating civic consciousness im 
 planted by the very man who had become a hero over 
 night. Now it spoke and without fear because when 
 all were shouting courage was not needed. With an 
 impulsive generosity as kindly as illogical, they re 
 membered the years of his discouragement and pro 
 ceeded to the other and more dangerous extreme 
 of raising him on a pedestal. The politicians all 
 but a few were astounded ; supporters of Jenkins 
 and Sherrod alike were profoundly alarmed. One 
 would have said that somebody, finding dry wood and 
 tinder already laid and the wind blowing high, had 
 struck the spark and set the pile ablaze. 
 
 Somebody had. But that somebody kept out of 
 sight as long as possible. 
 
 Two days before the convention the Honorable G. 
 Washington Jenkins bowed to the storm. 
 
 " I yield," he said, " to a spontaneous demand of 
 the people." 
 
 " Sentiment," declared Murchell solemnly, " has
 
 346 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 crystallized. Dunmeade's the man." He explained 
 that this decision had been reached by him in view of 
 the evident wish of the people, and he added truth 
 fully that he had not seen nor discussed the approach 
 ing convention with John Dunmeade. The Murchell 
 men in the organization whooped with delight. A 
 stroke of genius this, the master allying himself with 
 the popular candidate. Politicians dislike to run coun 
 ter to the people, save when stern necessity compels. 
 
 The day before the convention the delegates began 
 to gather at the capital, picked men if not wisely 
 picked of their clans ; and chieftains of high and 
 low degree come to view, to participate in, perhaps 
 to share the spoils of, the impending battle of giants. 
 In parlor A of the State Hotel sat Murchell and in 
 parlor B of the Lochinvar sat Sherrod, playing 
 against each other for votes. Between them fluttered 
 the delegates and those who had delegates to sell, like 
 hungry summer flies. But they found the little 
 fellows at least no honey-pot at Murchell's end ; 
 no scandal must mar the nomination of Dunmeade. 
 (As for the captains of tens and captains of hundreds, 
 that is another matter, into which we may not in 
 trude. ) 
 
 In crowded streets and sweltering, smoke-clouded 
 lobbies excitement ran high. Men forgot the op 
 pressive heat of the night in the more fervent heat of 
 conflict. The din of vociferous argument, brazen 
 prophecy and equally loud speculation rose. Through 
 it was a new undercurrent of fear. If, as Sherrod 
 was proclaiming, Murchell had started the conflagra 
 tion, he had made a risky move. For if Sherrod 
 were now successful in the convention, what seer so
 
 THE BIG LIFE 347 
 
 bold as to foretell victory over Jerry Brent in the 
 elections ? Neutrals anxiously strove to learn whither 
 the tide of battle ran. 
 
 They wondered, as did friends and spies, at the 
 air of confidence that reigned in the Murchell camp, 
 now become the Dunmeade rallying ground. It was 
 the only quiet spot in the capital, contrasted signifi 
 cantly with the nervous atmosphere of the Sherrod 
 headquarters. Such contentment with the situation 
 could not be feigned! It was infectious; it spread 
 out among the delegates who had pledged themselves 
 to vote for Dunmeade, and nullified the frantic efforts 
 of Parrott (nominally managing Sherrod's cam 
 paign) to start a stampede; it kept the neutrals waver 
 ing. 
 
 Those delegates and captains who met the leader 
 perceived not that since Sherrod had defeated him 
 two years before a new Murchell had been born. 
 They saw only the same resourceful, compelling, 
 steadfast general riding back into power. They re 
 peated credulously the popular fiction, always en 
 couraged by him, that he had never gone back on a 
 deal; many were present who could testify otherwise 
 of Sherrod. They would not have believed that in 
 this battle, in which his skill shone brightest, the old 
 warrior spirit joyed not at all. 
 
 And over the scene of conflict hovered a formless 
 one, unseen, unheard, unfelt, as spirits always are, 
 waiting but for the crucial moment to swoop down 
 and decide the issue. 
 
 Came a lull in the battle, an hour toward morning 
 when the delegates had retired to allotted cots or 
 halves of beds or, more often, to woo Fortune over
 
 348 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 some table of chance, when the reeking lobbies were 
 depopulated and the headquarters of the generals de 
 serted by all but their respective staffs and the yawn 
 ing reporters. In parlor A of the State Hotel quiet 
 yet reigned, the quiet of men resting on their arms. 
 Greene and the half dozen other men present, hollow- 
 eyed and pale but under too heavy strain for sleep, 
 conversed by fits and starts. Their chieftain sat by 
 a paper-strewn table, eyes closed and head bent for 
 ward as though he were dozing. His companions 
 had urged him to seek his bed for a few hours' rest, 
 but he had refused ; he seemed to be waiting for some 
 thing of which they had no inkling. 
 
 His waiting was not in vain. 
 
 There was a knock on the door and Greene ad 
 mitted a messenger, him who once before had lured 
 Murchell from his retreat on an errand, if not of 
 mercy, at least of salvation. Murchell was instantly 
 awake. Paine went to him and whispered his mes 
 sage. Murchell shook his head. 
 
 " Tell him," he said aloud, " if he wants to see me, 
 he'll have to come here." 
 
 Paine whispered a protest. 
 
 " Tell him," Murchell cut him short, " John Heath 
 will meet him here." 
 
 The messenger started, looked hastily around at 
 the others and grinned in sickly fashion. But he 
 departed immediately, leaving the men in the room to 
 wonder what charm lay in the unfamiliar name of 
 John Heath. 
 
 In less than five minutes, rumor outrunning the 
 fact, the hotel was alive; Sherrod had asked for a 
 conference with Murchell! The reporters ceased to
 
 THE BIG LIFE 349 
 
 yawn. Poker games were brought to an abrupt end. 
 In the corridors, in various stages of disarray, gath 
 ered a knot of excited delegates whom the news had 
 mysteriously reached. 
 
 Murchell men smiled triumphantly when they saw 
 Parrott and Sherrod, wearing an air of confidence 
 not wholly convincing, emerge from the elevator and 
 make their way along the corridor to parlor A. The 
 delegates pressed eagerly behind them to the door. 
 
 Sherrod and Parrott entered, carefully closing the 
 door behind them to the intense disappointment of the 
 delegates outside. Parrott went jauntily up to Mur 
 chell and shook hands. 
 
 " Well," he grinned, " we've been having a fine 
 little shindy, eh ? " This for the reporters. 
 
 " Glad," grunted Murchell, " you're enjoying it." 
 There was a laugh in which Parrott did not join. 
 Neither Sherrod nor Murchell offered salutation to the 
 other beyond a brief nod. 
 
 The senator waved his hand and all but Greene left 
 the room, reluctant but obedient. 
 
 "Well?" Murchell looked past Parrott to Sher 
 rod. 
 
 " See here," said the last. " Can't we get together ? 
 You've got to admit that we've got you beaten." 
 
 "If you think the delegates you've been buying 
 will stick, you're mistaken, Sherrod. I've sold you 
 more than fifty myself." 
 
 " I don't believe it," snapped Sherrod, and added, 
 inconsistently, " Who are they ? " 
 
 " That," answered Murchell, " you'll find out in the 
 morning." 
 
 " Quit blurring and get down to cases. You know
 
 350 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 damn well you can't beat us in the convention. You 
 aren't trying to. You started all this racket over Dun- 
 meade just to work up a sentiment that will make 
 it harder for me to beat Brent. You're so anxious 
 to get even," he exclaimed bitterly, " that you don't 
 see you're in danger of stirring up a revolution. 
 What will you take to quit? " 
 
 " The revolution has started, Sherrod. And you'll 
 never beat Brent." 
 
 "Won't I? We'll attend to that when the time 
 comes." 
 
 " Because," Murchell continued calmly, " you won't 
 be nominated." He turned to the governor. " Par- 
 rott, how much have you paid Sherrod to support you 
 for senator ? " 
 
 " What's that got to do with this convention? " de 
 manded Sherrod. 
 
 " I just want to show Parrott the kind of men he's 
 working with. How much, Parrott ? " 
 
 " Nothing," lied Parrott, albeit with evident un 
 easiness. 
 
 " Then you're lucky," Murchell commented. " Dan 
 Hasland paid him two hundred thousand for the same 
 promise." 
 
 " That's a lie," Sherrod declared hotly. 
 
 " Greene," commanded Murchell, " call Hasland 
 in, will you? He's in the room next to mine. That 
 is, if Parrott and Sherrod think it necessary?" He 
 turned inquiringly toward them. 
 
 " I guess," Sherrod growled, " Parrott knows I'll 
 not go back on him." 
 
 "Does he?" Murchell inquired dryly. " Look at 
 him!"
 
 THE BIG LIFE 351 
 
 And, indeed, Parrott's face just then showed any 
 thing but implicit confidence in the good faith of his 
 leader. 
 
 " You needn't go, Greene. And," Murchell added, 
 " I may announce right here that Hasland will suc 
 ceed me as senator." 
 
 " Doesn't that depend," sneered Sherrod, " on who 
 controls the legislature?" 
 
 " We'll control it." Murchell's brevity was impres 
 sive. 
 
 Greene could have hugged himself with delight as 
 he saw Parrott visibly perturbed, and Sherrod strug 
 gling to repress the rising passionate hate and fear 
 of the man before him. Greene had been a gambler 
 and he felt a profound reverence for the man whose 
 nerve in so big a game showed no tremor. Even he 
 thought Murchell's air of contemptuous confidence, 
 of weariness as though he had a distasteful but not 
 at all difficult task to perform, assumed. 
 
 A long pause was broken by Parrott anxiously. 
 " Senator, what have you got up your sleeve? " 
 
 " Sherrod's withdrawal." 
 
 " Who is going to make me withdraw ? " Sherrod 
 sneered again. 
 
 " Didn't Paine give you my message ? John 
 Heath!" 
 
 "Who," demanded Parrott, "is John Heath?" 
 
 Murchell pointed to Sherrod's face, which had sud 
 denly turned pale. " He is a gentleman of whom 
 Sherrod is very much afraid. Parrott, did you ever 
 hear why I came to the capital last March? I came 
 because I heard that Sherrod here was drunk and 
 threatening to throw himself into the river. I found
 
 352 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 out why he had embezzled nine hundred thousand 
 dollars of state moneys. We fixed the matter up 
 temporarily." He paused, straightened up in his 
 chair, eyed Sherrod for a moment, and went on 
 quietly, " If your name goes before the convention, 
 I will take the floor and tell all about that transac 
 tion. I don't think you will be nominated. And, if 
 you are, I'm quite sure you won't be elected. Do you 
 withdraw ? " 
 
 Parrott was staring open-mouthed at Sherrod, who 
 was not good to look upon just then. "My God!" 
 He took a step forward and caught Sherrod by the 
 shoulder, roughly. "Mark, is that true?" 
 
 "What if it is?" Sherrod snarled. "He's only 
 bluffing. He daren't use " 
 
 " You covered that ground once before," Murchell 
 interrupted evenly. " The argument had some force 
 at the time, because I had plans which this exposure 
 would disturb. The circumstances are different now. 
 I want to do just two things nominate John Dun- 
 meade, and put you out, clear out, of politics. John 
 Heath will accomplish both for me, I think. And 
 for anything else I don't care. You may believe this. 
 Do you withdraw ? " 
 
 "I do not!" 
 
 " Very well." Murchell rose to indicate that the 
 conference was at an end. 
 
 " Come on, Parrott." Sherrod wheeled and 
 marched toward the door. But Parrott did not fol 
 low. Instead, he dropped weakly into a chair, his 
 glance shifting uncertainly from Murchell to the de 
 parting Sherrod and back again. 
 
 Sherrod's hand was already on the door-knob, when
 
 THE BIG LIFE 353 
 
 he noticed Parrott's defection. He stopped, looking 
 back. 
 
 " Come along," he repeated impatiently. 
 
 "I think," said Parrott slowly, "I'll stay here. 
 I've had one gold brick too many." 
 
 " What ! " Sherrod turned sharply and strode 
 over to the vacillating governor. ' You booby ! 
 Scared by a cheap bluff like that! Do you think he 
 means it? He daren't use it. Here, I'll prove it to 
 you." He whirled to face Murchell, pointing. 
 " There is the door, Bill Murchell, and on the other 
 side of it a half dozen reporters. Don't wait for the 
 convention. Call 'em in. Make good your bluff, if 
 you dare ! " 
 
 For a moment the senator looked intently at the 
 ugly, passionate face. 
 
 " Call them in, Greene," he said quietly. 
 
 Greene went to the door, opened it and beckoned to 
 the reporters. They filed into the parlor promptly. 
 Murchell turned to them. 
 
 " Gentlemen, I want to dictate a statement." 
 Note-books were flashed forth and pencils poised. 
 But Murchell did not continue, and the reporters did 
 not look at him. Their eyes were riveted on Sherrod, 
 upon whose face had fallen a look of unbelieving 
 wonderment. The wonderment became fear. Beads 
 of sweat stood out on his forehead. He shook visi 
 bly. The defiant attitude suddenly dissolved. 
 
 " Perhaps," said Murchell grimly, " Mr. Sherrod 
 would prefer to make this statement himself." 
 
 There was an instant of painful silence. Sherrod's 
 mouth worked as though he were trying to speak. 
 But no sound fell.
 
 354 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 Parrott came to his relief. " Gentlemen," he said 
 solemnly, " Mr. Sherrod has withdrawn his candi 
 dacy." 
 
 " In favor of Dunmeade," supplemented Greene. 
 
 The reporters looked inquiringly at Senator Mur- 
 chell. 
 
 He nodded. "That's the statement." 
 
 Without a single backward glance he went out of 
 the room. Greene and the reporters followed him, 
 leaving Sherrod and Parrott alone to get what com 
 fort they could out of their plight and to settle cer 
 tain accounts, a scene upon which we considerately 
 draw the curtain. 
 
 In the corridor Murchell was accosted again by one 
 of the reporters. 
 
 " Senator, I know when to stop asking questions. 
 But I'll bet a hat that wasn't what you expected to 
 say when you called us in." 
 
 Murchell smiled for the first time since coming to 
 the capital. 
 
 " Then you lose, young man/' 
 
 A man around whom a battle had been fought 
 leaned on a rail fence, gazing off at the undulating 
 line where the azure of sky curved down to meet the 
 green of hills. He rendered no acknowledgment of 
 the lengthening shadows other than to pull his hat 
 down to shield his eyes from the westering sun. 
 Near by stood a tree, but he had avoided its shade to 
 bathe in the sunlight, as though its life-giving warmth 
 might rekindle a burnt-out ardor. He looked out 
 upon the hillsides wistfully, as when a man about to 
 depart on a long journey takes leave of some familiar
 
 THE BIG LIFE 355 
 
 and well-loved scene. He had been there most of the 
 afternoon, in flight from the kindly but obtrusive in 
 terest of his neighbors. 
 
 A state was acclaiming him, and he was not up 
 lifted. He had read the news of the morning and 
 knew that at that very hour several hundred of his 
 fellow-citizens in convention assembled were naming 
 him to a high honor, and he took no joy in it. For 
 the acclamation was but the schooled chorus of a 
 tractable stage mob. And the victory was not for him, 
 nor for the principle he had served, but for a man 
 whom he had condemned, for an institution he believed 
 to be wrong. He was big enough or small enough, 
 if you prefer to resent being catapulted into power 
 by the strength of another's arm, and he was honest 
 enough to hate the means he knew must have been 
 used. The power itself did not dazzle him, in the 
 shadow of fear and self-distrust. And it was a shat 
 tering of his notions of just reward. Out of a weak 
 ness, a recession, a yielding, by a unique accident of 
 circumstance he had found an advancement for which 
 in rigorous honesty he might have striven a lifetime 
 vainly. He could not exult. The advancement had 
 come too late ; the fiery eagerness of youth was gone. 
 Those who have known defeat often have no zest for 
 battle. From the new, unwon honor, he foresaw 
 must come an added necessity for strife. 
 
 He longed not for a sword but for peace, the peace 
 of the hills, of the growing things, of the common 
 place from which once he had fled. 
 
 A sound, strange for that hour and place, slowly 
 pierced his abstraction. He raised his head, startled, 
 listening. It was the court-house bell. Another
 
 356 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 joined in, and another, until all the bells of the town 
 were ringing, their notes, mellowed by the distance, 
 winging across the hills to a man who needed their 
 summons more than he knew. He started hastily to 
 ward the town. Only once before within his mem 
 ory had there been such a ringing of bells in New 
 Chelsea, when fire threatened to destroy it wholly. 
 
 Then he halted suddenly, the reason for the bells 
 dawning upon him. The iron choral was for him! 
 
 He walked slowly on. 
 
 As he rounded the foot of the knob, he heard an 
 other sound rising to mingle with the clamor of the 
 bells cheering voices. He had a strong desire to 
 turn back and flee to some hiding-place in the hills, but 
 he forced himself to march forward. 
 
 At the northernmost edge of the town he perceived 
 a rapidly limping figure. It was Jeremy Applegate, 
 a panting, sweating Jeremy, who, when he saw John, 
 waved his hat and broke into the peculiar elabora 
 tion of hop-skip-and-jump that, with the peg-leg, 
 passed for running. 
 
 " Heard you came out this way," Jeremy gasped, 
 " an' I wanted to be first to tell you." He halted 
 sharply, threw back head and shoulders, his hand 
 went up in a military salute. 
 
 "Governor!" 
 
 This was anticipating the fact, but Jeremy in his 
 exultation could see no clouds on the horizon 
 
 " The convention's over, then ? " 
 
 " Nominated by acclamation at three forty-five this 
 afternoon! I hain't felt so good since Appomattox." 
 John, beholding the tears shining in honest Jeremy's 
 eyes, felt the moisture rise to his own. His heart
 
 THE BIG LIFE 357 
 
 leaped sharply; it was something to receive, even if 
 one has not earned, such loyalty ! 
 
 Down Main Street, at a speed never before ap 
 proximated in their staid lives, galloped a team draw 
 ing a double-seated spring-wagon. Jeremy stumped 
 out into the middle of the street, waving his arms to 
 command this chariot for a triumphal entry. But 
 the hail was not needed. The astonished steeds were 
 pulled up as sharply as a minute earlier they had been 
 urged to speed. From the wagon descended a silent 
 trio whose handclasp eloquently told what awkward 
 lips could not phrase. 
 
 " Druv into town to git the news of the conven 
 tion," 'Ri explained. " They said ye'd gone out the 
 pike, so we druv out to fetch ye in. They're wait- 
 in' for ye, consider'ble excited." 
 
 " They've found out," said Dan Criswell dryly, 
 " all at oncet that ye're a great man." 
 
 " 'Low I damned the Amurrican people a mite too 
 soon," confessed Sykes, which caused Cranshawe and 
 Criswell to laugh. 
 
 " Git in," commanded 'Ri. " Come right along, 
 Jeremy." 
 
 They all climbed into the wagon, John with lips 
 compressed as if he faced an ordeal. And indeed he 
 did. 'Ri was quick to perceive what Jeremy in the 
 hysteria of his joy had overlooked. His great, hairy 
 hand fell on John's knee in a tight grip. 
 
 " I want to say something while I got the chancet. 
 I guess there's more to this than appears to be. But 
 I have faith in ye, John Dunmeade. I have faith that 
 ye'll govern this state in the fear of God and the love 
 of your fellowmen."
 
 358 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 "Whatever ye do," supplemented Sykes, "I'll be 
 lieve that." 
 
 " An' so long as we got faith in ye, ye needn't lose 
 faith in yourself," Criswell concluded. 
 
 John did not answer. He was past speaking just 
 then. 
 
 So, in a squeaky spring-wagon, amid a group of 
 men whose rugged living, homespun wisdom and 
 simple faith had not suffered from the blight of a 
 golden age, John Dunmeade, by the irony of circum 
 stance raised on high through a force evolved by 
 and for that age, began his triumphal progress. 
 And what a progress! The subtle wine of it, despite 
 his former dejection, stole into his veins. There was 
 no city wall to breach, but New Chelsea would cheer 
 fully have supplied the omission, had it lain in its 
 power. 
 
 Main Street was lined with happy crowds, called 
 out by the bells, and to number them, if we may be 
 lieve the Globe, would have been to take a census of 
 the town. Unemotional men for once letting them 
 selves go to cheer wildly one toward whom many of 
 them had claimed the neighbor's privilege of sneering 
 criticism and upon whom they now looked as at a 
 stranger with sudden new respect; women with hand 
 kerchiefs aflutter; small boys as feverishly exultant 
 as when the New Chelsea nine shut out the Plumville 
 " leaguers." They flocked around the chariot at 
 imminent risk to toes from the wheels eager to 
 shake hands with their pale, shaken neighbor, fell in 
 behind the wagon, debouched into the Dunmeades' 
 front yard, sadly to the impairment of the lawn that
 
 THE BIG LIFE 359 
 
 was Miss Roberta's pride. There they stood and 
 cheered again and again, even after he had bowed his 
 thanks and disappeared within the house. Then they 
 departed to prepare for the real celebration. 
 
 Within took place another wonder, Judge Dun- 
 meade almost forgetting the judicial dignity, slapping 
 John on the back and exclaiming, " My son, this is 
 a happy hour. I always knew you would make your 
 mark." 
 
 At which Miss Roberta sniffed. But when she 
 tried to convey her felicitations, her tongue refused 
 the unaccustomed office and she broke away to pre 
 pare a supper that should do justice to the occasion. 
 
 " I wish," she cried to herself, " I'd learned to say 
 nice things when I was young! I'm only an old cat 
 with claws to scratch." 
 
 That evening Benton County made holiday. 
 
 Long before darkness had fallen a hundred and 
 more boys were dashing madly about, waving torches 
 and redfire under the noses of the incoming farmers' 
 teams. A huge bonfire was lighted in the Square, a 
 pyramid of flame that rose to the level of the tree- 
 tops. Around it gathered those who had not gone 
 to the station to meet the Plumville " special." 
 Through the shifting, excited crowd Grocer Bellamy 
 and Cobbler Marks wended a devious way, arm in 
 arm, the breach of five years' standing healed the 
 former narrating with infinite circumstantiality to all 
 who would listen how he had given Johnny Dun- 
 meade his first case and what had been said by each 
 party to that historic transaction and Jeremy Ap- 
 plegate stumped jubilantly about, dispensing good
 
 360 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 cigars with all the prodigality of campaign time. 
 Watches were frequently consulted; the special was 
 due at a quarter to eight. 
 
 Prompt on the hour the shriek of the locomotive 
 announced the arrival of the train. There was an 
 expectant pause, then a long roll of snare drums, and 
 out upon the summer night floated the martial strains 
 of Marching Through Georgia. The music grew 
 louder, clearer. Around the corner into Main Street 
 wheeled the drum-major, magnificent in bearskin hat, 
 and the red jackets of the Plumville Brass Band. The 
 baton was raised in imperious gesture, and the air 
 changed to one that called forth a roar of delight, 
 When Johnny Comes Marching Home! No one 
 remembered another time when that song had been 
 played. 
 
 Down Main Street they came, the wizard of the 
 baton outdoing himself, so that to this day New Chel 
 sea youth, speaking of a lost art, recall with awe 
 the miracles performed that night. The big bass 
 horns brazenly emphasized the declaration that they 
 would " all get blind drunk when Johnny 
 came marching home " ; a promise, be it regretfully 
 recorded, which several theretofore respectable citi 
 zens of New Chelsea generously kept ere the night 
 had waned. After them came the Plumville Fourth 
 Ward Marching Club, twirling red, white and blue 
 umbrellas and smoking unanimously, their souls no 
 whit expanded. They had marched and voted and 
 vociferated against John Dunmeade. Now, at the 
 command of their chieftain, they marched for him; 
 theirs not to reason why. Followed a nondescript 
 regiment of farmers and townsmen, politicians and
 
 THE BIG LIFE 361 
 
 citizens, joyfully marching in honor of the man whom 
 a few weeks before they had rejected. 
 
 Without a quiver Miss Roberta witnessed the total 
 destruction of her velvety lawn as they gathered 
 around the house, a close-packed throng that reached 
 across the street and into the Square. Volley after 
 volley of cheers rose. But when John Dunmeade ap 
 peared on the porch it was clear that all previous 
 demonstrations had been merely a preliminary testing 
 of vocal powers. Before the prolonged roar had sub 
 sided a young woman under a tree at the edge of the 
 crowd discovered unashamed tears coursing down he* 
 cheeks. 
 
 John made a speech; not much of a speech, it is 
 true, but his audience was not hypercritical. It lasted 
 just three minutes. And then, since so memorable 
 an occasion could not be thus summarily concluded, 
 Judge Dunmeade was called upon for " a few words." 
 His speech, beginning, " Half a century ago the im 
 mortal Webster stood in yonder Square," was ac 
 counted for the last time we cite the Globe a 
 classic of old-school oratory. The judge made it evi 
 dent that he attributed his son's rise to those sound 
 principles of Republicanism early instilled in his heart 
 and mind by a fond father. Perhaps the most en 
 thusiastically acclaimed period was that in which he 
 compared those two great statesmen, Daniel Web 
 ster and William Murchell, to the disadvantage of 
 neither. He spoke for nearly an hour, but the crowd 
 listened patiently, even applauded his sentiments so 
 generously that a stranger might have been hard put 
 to decide whether father or son were the hero of the 
 hour.
 
 362 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 When the sonorous peroration was brought to a 
 close, the band began to play America. For a little 
 a deep hush fell. Then some one later identified 
 as a one-legged, hysterically happy old soldier be 
 gan to sing, in a cracked, quavering voice. Some 
 thing that passed beyond mere jubilation stirred. 
 With one accord the crowd lifted up its voice and 
 sang: 
 
 " My country, 'tis of thee. . . ." 
 
 The solemn, stately measures died away. A last 
 cheer was given, and the famous celebration passed 
 into history. 
 
 The band moved off, trumpeting the latest popular 
 air and followed by the Plumville celebrants. The 
 crowd dispersed, enthusiasm spent. The bonfire 
 burned down, only a few cooling embers remained. 
 Over the town settled its accustomed nocturnal quiet. 
 
 At his window John Dunmeade looked with 
 troubled eyes up into the silent, starry night. It was 
 ungenerous perhaps, but he could not help thinking 
 of the lean years of defeat and discouragement. And 
 he wondered; was the hymn still ringing in his ears 
 the voice of an abiding passion or hysteria?
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 SILENCED 
 
 / "T"*HE next day John's office was besieged by a stream 
 * of neighbors, calling with a new-born diffidence 
 to say in person what they had said in mass the even 
 ing before. A few, of course, generously offered to 
 advise him as to the conduct of his future office. No 
 one doubted that he would receive the usual enormous 
 Republican majority. 
 
 It was not until the middle of the afternoon that 
 Haig found him alone. 
 
 " Well, Cato," he grinned, " they tell me they're a 
 little exercised down Carthage way." 
 
 John smiled faintly. " Not much, I suspect. I've 
 been thinking of Cato. I'm not even a relative. 
 Poor Jerry Brent ! " 
 
 " Great guns! You can think of him? Guess you 
 haven't read his interview." 
 
 " Yes, I have." 
 
 They alluded to Brent's comment on the Republican 
 convention, in which he made numerous sarcastic ref 
 erences to the " lofty-souled uplifter who had sold out 
 to the gang for an office." 
 
 " It's the cry of a bitterly disappointed man. 
 Brent's chance of a lifetime is gone. He knows he 
 can't beat you and he's sore. I wouldn't mind it." 
 
 " I don't. I'm sorry for him. He could have 
 beaten Sherrod, I really believe." 
 
 363
 
 364 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 "Do you hear him?" Haig indignantly apostro 
 phized the engraving of Daniel Webster. " I ex 
 pected to find him strutting on air after last night. 
 And here he is, feeling sorry for a cheap, jealous 
 demagogue the state's well saved from. Can't you 
 feel any elation?" he transferred his remarks to 
 John. " It isn't often the people get up on their 
 hind legs to yell for a man the way they did for you 
 last night." 
 
 " I'm humanly vain, I suppose." John shrugged 
 his shoulders. 
 
 " I'm glad to hear," Haig laughed, " it's no worse 
 than that. I've sometimes thought you so damnably 
 vain that you wouldn't let your little stunt of saving the 
 nation be performed except by some way bearing your 
 own private brand." 
 
 " I suppose that's true," said John, with surprising 
 meekness. 
 
 " No, it isn't," Haig growled quickly. " I was 
 talking through my hat. Look here, old man! I 
 think I understand how you're feeling over this. 
 You're not very happy because you think it isn't your 
 victory, that you have it only by blackmailing a man 
 you dislike " 
 
 " I don't dislike Murchell personally." 
 
 "At least, you don't approve of him politically. 
 Down at the bottom of your heart you're a little 
 peevish because a bit of tricking has got what your 
 theory of fighting couldn't win. And you feel that 
 in sacrificing, for merely personal considerations, what 
 you conceive to be a duty to the general scheme of 
 things, you have been weak. Well, you're right. 
 You have been weak. And I'm glad I'm durned
 
 SILENCED 365 
 
 glad of it. It will help you to understand that no 
 cold, abstract ideal of duty that ignores the primitive 
 selfish instincts in men can attract, much less impel, 
 them. The truly good inspires no sympathy. The 
 point of this matter is, out of your weakness has come 
 nothing but good. The bank will eventually become ; 
 a sound institution, and you I suppose you'll admit 
 that you'll make a better governor than Sherrod or 
 Brent?" 
 
 " I hope so. But that has come about only through 
 an accident over which I have had no control." 
 
 " Perhaps. But my idea of a useful man is one 
 who knows how and is willing to take advantage of just 
 such accidents. And I'm not sure it has been an ac 
 cident. You've illustrated what I believe to be a 
 law of life. Progress always moves along the line 
 of least resistance. Even the pioneer works through 
 the gaps and along the river beds, not over the moun 
 tains. And the most complicated and difficult thing" 
 in life is to steer a simple, straightforward course, 
 because human motives are always so complex. Re 
 member that. 
 
 " And remember another thing," he continued. 
 " Three weeks ago this county cast you aside. Now 
 it is yelling its fool head off for you. The American 
 people worship the great god, Success. Keep success- ' 
 ful. You've been promoted from a lofty-souled up- 
 lifter to a practical politician for the glory of God. 
 Accept the promotion." He was relieved to note that 
 John could laugh. " And here," he grinned, " endeth 
 the reading of my last lesson. It's one thing to share 
 my vast store of wisdom with John Dunmeade, the 
 visionary reformer, and quite another to lecture the
 
 366 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 next governor. Funny thing what a difference a 
 prospective office makes in one's attitude toward a 
 man." 
 
 John smiled absently. He was thinking, " It is an 
 easy road to travel." 
 
 " Haig," he said abruptly, " I suppose I'm an ob 
 stinate prig. But, honestly, I'd give all I hope to 
 possess to be able to answer you. If only they'd re- 
 nominated me as district attorney! I'd earned that. 
 Or if I could believe that the present hullabaloo were 
 not artificially manufactured " 
 
 He did not pursue the thought, aloud at least. 
 
 " It takes genius to make a state pull itself up by 
 the bootstraps." 
 
 " What a pity the genius that can so mold and con 
 trol public sentiment can't be directed to wholesome 
 ends!" 
 
 " Are you sure it can't ? I'm not, and I have no 
 reason to love Murchell. Have you seen him yet? 
 He got back this morning." 
 
 And even while Haig spoke, footsteps sounded in 
 the outer office and there was a knock. John 
 opened the door to admit Murchell. 
 
 "Good afternoon!" was the latter's unsmiling 
 greeting. 
 
 " Won't you come in and sit down ? " 
 
 Murchell accepted the invitation. There was a 
 moment of uncertainty. Then Haig reached for his 
 hat and rose to leave. 
 
 ' l You needn't go on my account," Murchell an 
 swered the move. " In fact, I'd like you to stay." 
 
 Haig resumed his seat. He and John kept the 
 silence of surprise.
 
 SILENCED 367 
 
 But the senator recognized no occasion for con 
 straint. 
 
 " I see," he said, glancing around, " you keep the 
 old office just the same. I remember when your 
 grandfather built it." 
 
 " Yes," John replied courteously; " though Aunt Ro 
 berta thinks it would be the better for a general over 
 hauling. She has a mania for cleanliness." 
 
 "Of more sorts than one," Murchell smiled queerly. 
 " I've noticed that. Your Aunt Roberta is a fine 
 Woman. You come of a good stock your grand 
 father was a mighty smart man. He used to say " 
 
 " That there's no man so good and none so bad 
 that he can't be made useful? " 
 
 " Yes. And also, ' The noblest sacrifice, because 
 the hardest, is that of the sincere man who gives up 
 part of his ideal to secure a little of it/ ' 
 
 " My grandfather," John remarked dryly, " seems 
 to have been given to high-sounding platitudes." 
 
 " He was a man who accomplished things." 
 
 " And I am not. Is that your point? " 
 
 " Have you the right to be bitter? " Murchell asked 
 quietly. " When a man still young has in six years 
 so impressed himself and his ideals on seven million 
 people that they demand him for governor, and de 
 mand with an enthusiasm I have rarely seen " 
 
 " Manufactured by you! " 
 
 " Stimulated," Murchell corrected briefly, and con- 
 tined, " and through him are beginning to realize, 
 even vaguely, their political responsibility, he has 
 something to his credit, I think. A good many men 
 who think well of themselves reach old age without 
 accomplishing so much."
 
 368 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 " Do you mean," John exclaimed, incredulous, " that 
 / have done that ? " 
 
 " Do you know any one else whom the description 
 fits?" Murchell asked. "I don't mean that the mil 
 lennium is at hand. Perfection isn't attained by one 
 sharp, impetuous dash up the hill. It is a slow, grad 
 ual climb, with many halts and detours and truces, even 
 retreats. It's a good thing it's so. If progress came 
 simply and quickly, it wouldn't be worth having." 
 
 " Exactly what I have been telling him," Haig in 
 terpolated eagerly. 
 
 " Then it must be true." There was a flash of 
 Murchell's old grim self. " I wish there were some 
 other way." 
 
 For a few moments he seemed to forget the others' 
 presence, as he gazed out through the window toward 
 the sleepy Square with its dingy court-house, its list 
 lessly swaying trees, its out-of-date cannon and bril 
 liant flag, a scene in nowise changed since the day; 
 when he had come with what fateful miscalcula 
 tion ! to press an ardent young man into his service. 
 John, too, remembered that former time and thought 
 wonderingly, with a sudden new hope, on the subtle, 
 indefinable change he felt, rather than saw, in the old 
 man. 
 
 They waited until Murchell began again. 
 
 " I speak now as a politician, not as a philosopher. 
 There are two ways of serving a reform. One is as 
 the preacher, the dreamer. He is useful, because he 
 points out the way we shall go. The other is as the 
 constructive leader, the man who takes the forces he 
 finds ready to hand and uses their power to change
 
 SILENCED 369 
 
 conditions as the people are prepared for change. And 
 he is necessary, because new systems are built on the 
 old and the people are like children they require 
 coaxing and the encouragement of success. The 
 preacher has the easier task; he has only to contend 
 with ignorance and discouragement. The builder 
 must suffer misunderstanding and compromise and 
 the temptation of power. Not many men withstand 
 that." Infinite sadness spoke. 
 
 " You," he turned to John, " have got to decide now 
 which you will be. You are going to hold a great 
 office. Public office I think you've found this out 
 already isn't as simple as it seems to those who 
 haven't held it. The man who would fill it with un 
 failing wisdom and justice, with exact honesty and 
 still be useful must be as stern and unyielding as the 
 forces of nature, and as strong." 
 
 " And I am not that." But the bitterness was lack 
 ing now. 
 
 " No man is," Murchell said gently. " I've got 
 you the nomination through methods you won't con 
 sider clean. I've made promises you won't like, but 
 that you must keep, or we'll both be destroyed po 
 litically." 
 
 Without excusing or concealing a single manceuver, 
 he narrated the story of the short campaign and the 
 convention. 
 
 " My motives in doing this aren't important," he 
 concluded. ' You perhaps aren't justified in crediting 
 me with worthy ones. But you can believe this 
 for what you desire I wish nothing but success. And 
 I want to help you. What knowledge and influence
 
 370 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 I have are yours, if you will accept and use them. A 
 day may come when compromise and intrigue won't 
 be necessary." 
 
 The shuffling of feet in the outer room gave John 
 the excuse to leave. He was heard dismissing the vis 
 itor. But many minutes flew by before he returned. 
 
 It was little enough time for what he had to decide. 
 
 A marvel had been wrought. To Murchell had 
 been given a new purpose. But Murchell, the work 
 man, could never change; he was too old. His lack 
 of respect for the people and popular impulse, the 
 habit of judging means by the end, fixed through a 
 lifetime, would persist. His was not the crusader's 
 spirit, white hot, impatient of compromise, caring less 
 for achievement than that his cause be kept unsullied. 
 And he was the stronger man, his the greater genius. 
 The instinct for mastery must be served. Who joined 
 him did so as a follower, to be dominated by the lead 
 er's ideal and philosophy. 
 
 " If only I could answer him! " John cried within 
 himself. 
 
 But his experience, silencing inspiration, had not 
 taught him that answer. 
 
 There was but one way for him to decide. The 
 trap of circumstance, sprung by his own weakness, held 
 him fast. Having accepted advancement at the hands 
 of that which he believed to be wrong, he might no 
 longer openly fight against it. As an enemy to the 
 machine, whose beneficiary he had become, he would 
 be discredited, unconvincing. His only hope for use 
 fulness lay in the proffered alliance, in Murchell's new 
 purpose.
 
 SILENCED 371 
 
 For a little Haig sat in the unwonted silence of em 
 barrassment. Then he said abruptly : 
 
 " Senator Murchell, I'd like to apologize, if you will 
 let me." 
 
 " For telling the truth ? It isn't necessary." 
 
 " No, for believing my impertinent, theatric inter 
 vention responsible for your action." 
 
 " You don't believe that now? " 
 
 " I do not. And " Haig hesitated in the mascu 
 line awkwardness before sentiment. " And I know 
 Dunmeade can trust your offer." 
 
 " It is more important that he keep faith in himself. 
 He can trust me. I There are enough George 
 Wrcnns to remember." 
 
 Haig looked swiftly away, having glimpsed in what 
 coin payment for the Wrenns and that for which they 
 stood was being made. He wished that he had with 
 held his tale of the weakling. And he wondered that 
 a golden age should bring forth one man with whom 
 abstract right was a passion and another with the 
 greatness of soul to begin in age to undo what a life 
 time had worked, and at the force that had brought 
 these two together. 
 
 Soon John returned. He held out his hand to Wil 
 liam Murchell. 
 
 " I haven't the right to refuse." 
 
 He was no longer a Voice. He had passed from the 
 wilderness to the haunts of men, where action, not 
 preachments achievements, not prophecy are the 
 currency of life.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 THE PRICE 
 
 WAS he weak, the theory of life and growth he 
 accepted wrong? To this day John Dunmeade 
 often asks the question. Sometimes he doubts. But 
 then, looking back over what has been done and fore 
 seeing a fuller triumph, he puts away the question. 
 For the compact, that day struck, held. Under Mur- 
 chell's tutelage he learned to compromise, to substi 
 tute craft and intrigue for the honorable, open methods 
 he loved. But he has never lost sight of his pur 
 pose and, though there have been halts and detours 
 and even retreats, the general direction has been for 
 ward. When his time came William Murchell died, 
 not greatly honored by a cynical world that looked 
 for no good thing from Nazareth, but content in the 
 belief that the forces by him set in motion would in 
 the end undo his evil. As for Dunmeade, he is still a 
 compromiser, but still fighting, an able lieutenant in a 
 new movement whose end is not yet. He is glad to 
 believe that upon his foundation other men shall be 
 able to build with clean hands. 
 
 But he draws no moral from his story. 
 
 And he found one source of happiness over which 
 no cloud has hovered. 
 
 When Murchell and Haig left him that afternoon, 
 to escape kindly intruders he went out into the coun- 
 
 372
 
 THE PRICE 373- 
 
 try. He took a circuitous route that avoided Main 
 Street and brought him to the bridge at the conflu 
 ence. He crossed it and tramped slowly along the 
 dusty road, flanked by a riot of ragweed, wild rose 
 and tufts of wind-sown grain, between cool, damp 
 wood-lots and acres of clean young corn and oat- fields 
 that rippled and tossed under the breeze. It was the 
 time of day when the farm bells were calling the labor 
 ers to supper. Their minor resonance seemed to him 
 the echo of the jubilant clamor of the day before. He 
 thrilled, as he had not on that yesterday. 
 
 At first he walked slowly, sluggishly. But grad 
 ually his step lengthened, quickened, until he was 
 striding along with a springiness he had not known 
 for years, his head uplifted as though, the problem 
 answered, a burden had rolled from his shoulders. 
 He drank in the beauty around him, an inspiriting 
 draught, and pondered not eagerly as at another 
 time, but steadily and with mounting courage the 
 task ahead of him. He heard again the thunder of 
 his neighbors' cheers and, listening, he caught a note 
 that had eluded him the night before but that now 
 rebucklered his faith. He thought of the power of 
 Murchell, pieced together by a lifetime of selfish effort 
 and rising out of the ashes of defeat stronger than 
 ever to what end, if not for this hour? And who 
 was he, to examine carpingly and throw aside the 
 weapons the life-force placed in his hand? As the 
 prophet blessed the murderous sword of the Israelites, 
 so might an unclean instrument be consecrated by its 
 ultimate service. As the earth brought forth her fruits 
 abundantly, so might the earthy passions and desires 
 af men be made to yield a glorious harvest.
 
 374 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 Once he halted, asking himself sharply, " Have I 
 gone down hill? I said it was an easy road to travel." 
 
 Then he left the doubt behind him. The die was 
 cast. He accepted the service assigned him. He 
 thought he discerned a purpose higher than his own. 
 The power against which he had fought existed, would 
 exist until the people whose condition had called it into 
 being outgrew it. Surely better that it serve, how 
 ever unwillingly, than that it continue to thwart, the 
 higher purpose ! 
 
 He walked for two miles or more and then, turning, 
 went swiftly homeward. 
 
 But as he skirted the foot of the knob, he was 
 brought to an abrupt halt. For there, tethered to a 
 bush stood a horse that he recognized Crusader, 
 less fiery than of yore, but sleek as ever and with 
 many a fast gallop left in his sturdy muscles. 
 
 For a moment John looked, hesitant, at the path up 
 which she doubtless had climbed. Then in sudden 
 resolution he went up. 
 
 She was standing by the big boulder, looking away 
 at the hills that rose, rank upon rank, until the last, 
 become mountains, were lost in the blue haze. But 
 he saw not the hills, only her, the strong, supple figure 
 limned against the sky, her hair red-gold under the 
 slanting sunshine. He caught his breath at sight of 
 her, sense of all else obliterated. 
 
 She seemed to feel his nearness, and turned. For 
 an instant, without greeting, they looked at each other, 
 these two whose romance was almost as old as life 
 itself. But to them it was unique, all their own. To 
 him the love had been one ardor that had not burned 
 out in the years of failure. To her it had been a
 
 THE PRICE 375 
 
 growing thing that could not be killed, reaching out 
 its tendrils until it possessed her wholly, casting out 
 vanity and fear, making her his through weakness and 
 strength, in victory and defeat. Shaken, they looked 
 away quickly; on the face of each had been written 
 what the other most desired to see. 
 
 She waited for him to speak. But the tongue that 
 had held thousands silent under its spell stubbornly 
 refused to be eloquent at this supreme moment. 
 
 " I saw Crusader," he said lamely, " and I came 
 up." 
 
 " Obviously ! " She laughed nervously. " I came 
 up here because it is the highest point in the county 
 but, of course, you know that and you can see 
 so far. It gives one a faint idea of the immensity of 
 things and of one's own insignificance. It is very 
 good for the soul, I assure you. I needed it, feeling 
 so important because I had been working " 
 
 "Working!" 
 
 "Does the notion seem so absurd?" She tossed 
 her head girlishly. "/ think it fine. I didn't know 
 time could pass so quickly and happily. Only my 
 task was very simple and unimportant, I fear, helping 
 father straighten out some of his papers. This morn 
 ing, you know, he turned the bank over to the new 
 cashier, and to-morrow he becomes manager of the 
 coal company. Our affairs are all settled. The Ridge 
 house is sold and next week we move into the old 
 one. We are to live here always. It seems like com 
 ing home. 
 
 " See ! " she went on breathlessly, as though to hold 
 back the flood of words that she knew was gathering 
 on his lips. She held up a hand, two pink finger-
 
 3 ;6 HIS RISE TO POWER 
 
 tips of which were sadly ink-stained. " My badge of 
 honor! It isn't very tidy, is it? But then I had to 
 hurry into my riding things. We workers haven't 
 time to make elaborate toilets You aren't listen- 
 ing!" 
 
 "Katherine!" 
 
 And she who, unasked, had twice dared to avow 
 her love now trembled violently before that of which 
 she was not afraid. While she was looking at the 
 hills, before he came, she had been doubting a last 
 faint doubt raised by words of his own. But his com 
 ing had banished that. She held her eyes bravely to 
 his. 
 
 " That Sunday I said you couldn't love a man who 
 had been weak even for your sake. It isn't true, is 
 it ? " His voice was hoarse with anxiety. 
 
 " Are you sure you want me, in spite " 
 
 " In spite of everything, I want you above all things 
 else." 
 
 "Ah! no. It can't it mustn't be that. You 
 are not your own. And I can be content with much 
 less than first place " 
 
 He would have taken her in his arms, but she held 
 him off, even while quivering with the longing to be 
 caught, as once before he had held her, in a rough, 
 close embrace. 
 
 " Are you sure I'd not be a drag, a continual re 
 minder of something you'd rather forget? And that 
 I could help you? I I'd have to help " 
 
 " Once I wanted you now I need you. I have 
 just been asking, have I gone down hill? I do 
 not know. But if I have, I need you who can' under 
 stand "
 
 THE PRICE 377 
 
 Then she knew of a certainty that the doubt was 
 gone for ever. With love's keen perception she saw 
 that already from him had gone a little of that fine 
 beauty and courage of manhood which had been be 
 fore her during the years of separation, but which the 
 dreamer must lose to become a " practical man." But 
 her love rose strongest when the need of it was great 
 est. In quick desire to shield his loss from him she 
 stretched forth her hands to meet his. 
 
 " Ah ! I will always understand. I do not believe 
 you have gone down. But if you have let us go 
 back up hill together ! " 
 
 And a little later, " I have not congratulated you 
 yet ! " she cried. 
 
 " Do you think I am to be congratulated ? " 
 
 She perceived his lingering doubt and hastened to 
 dispel its shadow. 
 
 " I was glad glad ! I stood at the edge of the 
 crowd I couldn't shout but I could cry. I be 
 lieve I am crying now please let me." 
 
 Tears of joy do not last long. 
 
 The sun sank behind the hills, leaving a sky of rose 
 that swiftly changed to the crimson of conflict, a 
 prophecy. The breeze died down. The leaves hung 
 motionless on the trees. Over the face of the earth 
 rested the deep hush of sundown. 
 
 "Listen!" 
 
 She, too, in awe, thought she heard the voice 
 another prophecy the eternal Force, bringing forth 
 weed and flower and fruit, immutable, ever victorious. 
 
 THE END
 
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