The Ramrodders. Holman Day
going to vote against me to-day, are you, Tute?"
"I've said right along we ought to bear with you so long as you lived and wanted to be elected."
"Like the seven years' itch, eh?"
"But you are trying to make us mere serfs in politics by dictating our choice, and what I teach of the principles of democracy—"
Thornton tapped the little man on the shoulder.
"What they've done, Tute, is come up here with a dose to fit the palate of every one of you fellows, and you don't know enough to understand that you're being handled. You're going to vote against me, are you?"
"I call on this gentleman to witness that I say you're the best man for the place. You're able, you're efficient, and you have done an immense amount of good for your constituents, and you—"
"But you won't vote for me to-day, eh?" reiterated the old man, pitilessly.
Mr. Tute started again on his line of fulsome praise, but the Duke checked him brusquely.
"That will do, Professor Tute. I like cake. I like it frosted. But I'll be d—d if I want it all frosting. Run up into the hall. Come along, Luke. We'll miss the text if we don't get in."
The last of the stragglers followed them up the stairs.
CHAPTER VI
A CAUCUS, AND HOW IT WAS RUN
The earlier arrivals had pushed the settees of the Fort Canibas town hall to one side. They were piled against an end wall. There were not enough of them to furnish seats for that mob. For that matter, voters seemed to have no inclination to sit down that day. There was barely enough standing-room when all had entered the hall.
Through them, friends and foes jostling each other, the Duke took his leisurely way. Presson was close behind him.
The rostrum, elevated a few feet above the main floor, was enclosed by boarding that came almost to the shoulders of those who stood within. Thornton, arrived at the front of the hall, put his shoulders against the boarding, shoved his hands into his trousers pockets, and gazed into the faces of his constituents. He was still amiable. But Presson sulked. It was hot in there, and the proletariat was unkempt and smoked rank tobacco.
"It's worth your while just the same, Luke," advised Thornton, in an undertone. He was conscious of the chairman's disgust, and it amused him. "They're going to have real caucuses in this State this year, they tell me. And this seems to be a nice little working model of the real thing. Better study it. It'll give you points on 'popular unrest,' as the newspapers are calling it."
The men in the pen above them were having an animated discussion. They were the members of the town committee. Thornton craned his neck and looked up at them. One of his loyal friends was there.
"What's the matter, Tom? Why not call to order?"
The man gave him a cautious wink before replying.
"There don't seem to be any copy of the call here, Squire. Some of 'em says we'll waive the reading of it. I say no. I say we don't want any holler to go out that this caucus wasn't run regular."
"It's only a 'technetical' point, anyway," protested one of the disputants.
"Well, I wouldn't allow too many of those 'technetical' points to get by in a caucus that you're ready to advertise under your reform headlines," advised the Duke. He settled himself against the boarding again. "Better give us straight work, boys."
It was not a threat. But it operated as effectually. A member of the town committee rapped for silence, and explained the situation rather shamefacedly. He asked the voters to be patient until the call could be prepared in the regular way.
"And now comes War Eagle Niles to help us kill time," observed Thornton. The agitator was pushing toward them. Men were urging him forward. It was evident that baiting their autocrat had become the favorite diversion of Fort Canibas' voters that day.
"Perhaps it was all right once for politicians to lead people by the nose, but it ain't all right now," stated Niles, as soon as he had squirmed into a favorable position for attack. "People didn't know, once. They didn't have newspapers, nor grange discussions, nor lecturers, nor anything to keep 'em posted. They let themselves be led."
"Don't let yourself be led, Ivus. You're more interesting as you are now, bolting with your head and tail up. But I wonder whether you know just what it was you shied at?"
"Know? You bet I know!" shouted the demagogue. "How about taxes? I'm paying more to-day on my little farm out back there than you're paying on a whole township of your wild lands. And don't you suppose I know how it's all arranged?"
"Why, Ivus, I suppose the chaps that have paid you to go around this district shooting your mouth off about 'tyrants' have supplied you with plenty of ammunition. Go ahead! I'd like to know how it was arranged, according to their notions."
"Who was that man that drove up to your house this morning in his devil machine, that cost more than my whole stand of farm buildings twice over—that man that's standing there beside you now, sneering at the voters of this State that he's been teaming? That's the Honor'ble Presson. He's chairman of the State Committee. He runs the big hotel down to the capital city. And where does he get money to buy automobiles with? I know. It's out of selling rum over his bar—and there's a law in the State constitution that makes selling rum a jail offence. But you don't see him in jail, do you?"
Astonishment that changed to fury nearly paralyzed the honorable chairman's tongue while Niles proceeded that far. When he did find his voice to protest, the War Eagle turned from him to the Duke like one who finds a weapon in each hand and becomes reckless.
"And no one sees you coming up and paying taxes on what you're really worth. It's all: 'You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours!' among the big fellows in this State. You can break all the laws you want to if you're in the right ring. And it's going to have a stop put to it!"
"Go ahead, Ivus!" encouraged his object of attack.
"If she's as sick as all that, she needs medicine quick. Get out your dose."
"The people is going to be reckoned with now," declaimed Niles, banging his knotted fist against the boarding.
"You mean of course The People—spelled with a capital T and a capital P, the same as you see it in those reform newspapers you've mentioned! Now, boys, I want you all to listen to me just one moment. You know I'm no hand to make speeches. But just let's talk this over. It'll take only a jiffy. There's a little time to kill while we're getting this caucus started regular. Now, some of these newspaper editors, who never get anywhere out of their offices except home to dinner, are writing a lot just now about THE PEOPLE—in capital letters, understand! Talking about 'em like as though they were a great force in politics—always organized and ready to support reform. Only needed to be called on. Fellows like Ivus here, that read and read and never bump up next to real things outside, get to think that The People make up an angel band that's all ready to march right up to the ballot-box and vote for just the right thing. Only have to be called on!"
The voters were crowding closer and listening. There was a half-smile on his face while he talked. He was not patronizing. But he took them into his confidence with simple directness.
"Boys, I don't know where you'll go to find that angel band!"
"The people of this State are gettin' woke up enough to know!" cried a voice. The man stepped forward. It was Davis. "I say to you again, Mr. Thornton, don't put us all on the plane of Ivus Niles."
The Duke was not ruffled by the interruption.
"Walt, I've been in politics a good many years. I was in the House in this State when Jim Blaine was there reporting for his newspaper.