The Ramrodders. Holman Day
you that when you get next to the real thing in politics you'll find that this people thing—the capital-letter idea—is a dream. Yes, it is, now! Don't undertake to dispute me! Here in one town you'll find a man or a set of men handling a bunch. A county clique handles another one. Some especial local interest makes this crowd vote one way; same thing will make another bunch in another town mad and they'll vote against it. It's all factions and self-interest, and you can't make it over into anything different. That's practical politics. Get out and you'll see it for yourself. You can swap and steer—that's politics. But as for uniting 'em into The People—well, try to weld a cat's tail and a tallow candle, and see how you get along!"
"It's high time we had less politics, then," cried Davis, "when politics lets the picked and chosen get rich selling rum or dodging taxes, and takes a poor man and pestles his head into the mortar till every cent is banged out of his pocket!"
"Davis, I'm patient with ramrodders when they're having an acute attack like you're having. It's the chronic cases I get after, the ones who are in it for profit, and have been poking you fellows up because they're paid for doing it. All of a sudden all of you are yapping at me because I've played the game. I'm talking business with you now. I suppose I might spread-eagle to you about our grand old State, and the call of duty and the noble principles of reform; I might fly up on this fence here and crow just as loud as any of those reform roosters, and not have any more sense in what I was saying than they do. I see you've got hungry for that revival hoorah. But I'm not going to perch and crow for the sake of getting three cheers! I'm going to stay right down here on the gravel with you, boys, and scratch a few times, and show you a few kernels, and cluck a little business talk. This district—you and your folks before you—has been sending me to the legislature for a good many years. I'm an ordinary man, and I've been against ordinary men down there at the State House. I should have played the game different with angels, but I couldn't find the angels."
He pointed through a window to a large building that occupied a hilltop just outside the village.
"Half the counties in the State were after that training seminary," he went on. "I beat the lobby, and got it. How much money do you and your neighbors make boarding the scholars? I have pulled out State money for more than a thousand miles of State roads in this county. I got the State to pay every cent of the expense of that iron bridge across the river. I lugged off bigger appropriations for my district than any other man who has been in the House—because I know the ropes and have the pull. I could have played angel, and not brought home a plum. Would that suit you?"
"I ain't detracting from what you got for us. But while you was dipping with your right hand for us, you was dipping with your left hand for yourself and them that trained with you," retorted Davis.
"And I wasn't to take any ordinary, human, business precautions about looking out for myself in any way, then?"
"You wasn't supposed to be representing yourself down there."
"For one hundred and fifty dollars every two years, and my mileage, I was to give up all my own business and my interests, and play statesman, pure and holy, for you up here? Refuse to help those men down there who helped me when I wanted something, and go down in the rotunda twice a day and thumb my nose at the portraits of the fathers of the State because they played politics in their time? That what you wanted me to do?"
"I've only got this to say," retorted Mr. Davis, afraid to argue: "You're proposing to jam your grandson down our throats, now that you've made your pile and got tired. You're going to have a man from this district that will do what you say and keep on flimflamming the people. I and them with me say no, and we'll show you as much in the caucus to-day."
"For the sake of having your own stubborn way—like most of the others that are howling about 'The People' in this State just now—you are ready to tip over this district's apple-cart, are you? Is that what you are trying to do? You take what I have given you, legislation and money that I've paid for labor in this section, and then propose to kick my pride in the tenderest place? I'll show you, Davis!"
"Well, show! We ain't a mite scared."
For some moments the throng in the town hall had shown waning interest in this discussion. There seemed to be matters outside that distracted the attention of those near the windows.
"There's a fire up Jo Quacca way!" called some one. The windows of town hall were high and uncurtained. All could see. Smoke, ominous and yellow, ballooned in huge volumes across the blue sky of the June day.
"There ain't no bonfire in that, gents," declared a man. "That fire has got a start, and if it's in that slash from that logging operation, it ain't going to be put out with no pint dipperful."
There was sudden hush in the big room. All men were gazing at the mounting masses that rolled into the heavens and blossomed bodefully over the wooded hills. Fat clouds of the smoke hung high and motionless. From the earth went up to them whirls and spirals and billowing discharges like smoke from noiseless artillery.
A man had climbed upon a window-sill of the hall in order to see more clearly.
"I tell you, boys," he shouted, "that's a racin' fire, and it's in that Jo Quacca slash! I, for one, have got a stand of buildin's in front of that fire."
He jumped down and started for the door. Several men followed him.
The chairman of the town committee began to shake a paper above his head.
"It's no time to be leaving a caucus," he pleaded. "We've fixed up a new call. We'll get down to business now."
"I know where my business is just this minute!" shouted the man who was leading the first volunteers. "And it ain't in politics."
The chairman tried to put a motion to adjourn, but at that moment the meeting-house bell began to clang its alarm.
"Save your property, you Jo Quacca fellows!" some one cried, and the crowd stampeded.
Thornton remained in his place in front of the rostrum. He noted who were running away. The deserters were the back-district voters—the opposition among whom his enemies had prevailed. The villagers remained. Here and there among them walked Talleyrand Sylvester. He was unobtrusive and he spoke low, but he was earnest.
When at last the chairman made his voice heard, Ivus Niles was shouting for recognition. That stern patriot had remained on guard.
"Maybe my house is burning, gents, but I ain't going to desert my post of duty till a square deal has been given. I call on you to adjourn this caucus till evening."
"Question!" was the chorus that assailed the chairman. The villagers crowded around the rostrum.
The motion to adjourn was voted down with a viva voce vote there was no disputing.
"It ain't just nor right!" squalled the War Eagle. "I'm here to protest! You ain't giving the voters a show! This thing shan't be bulled through this way!"
But that caucus was out of the hands of Mr. Niles and such as he, though some of the staunchest of Thornton's opposition had remained to fight.
Sylvester elbowed his way to the front, his followers at his back.
"I move, Mr. Chairman, that the check-list be dispensed with. It ain't ever been used in this caucus, anyway. And I'm in favor of hustling this thing so that we can all get up there and fight that fire. I don't believe in staying here caucusing, and let folks' property burn up."
The opposition howled their wrath. They understood all the hypocrisy of this bland assertion, but protest amounted to nothing. The voters were behind Sylvester. That gentleman promptly put in nomination the name of Harlan Thornton for representative to the legislature from the Canibas class of towns and plantations, and the choice was affirmed by a yell that made the protesting chorus seem only a feeble chirp. And then the caucus adjourned tumultuously.
Through it all Thelismer Thornton stood with shoulders against the boarding, that quizzical half-smile on his face. He walked out of the hall past the outraged Ivus Niles without losing that smile, though the demagogue followed him to the