Part 74

Dick gazed ruefully out of the window. “It's true. It's terribly true,” he said. “The people don't want anything better than they have. The saloon must continue to be the dominant influence here for a time. But you hear me, Daggett, a better day is coming, and if you want an opportunity to do, not the heroic thing only, but the wise thing, jump into a campaign for reform. Do you think Canadians are going to stand this long? This is a Christian country, I tell you. The Church will take a hand.”

Daggett smiled a superior smile. “Coming? Yes, sure, but meantime The Pioneer spells Church with a small c, and even the Almighty's name with a small g.”

“I tell you, Daggett,” said Dick hotly, “The Pioneer's day is past. I see signs and I hear rumblings of a storm that will sweep it, and you, too, unless you change, out of existence.”

“Not at all, my dear sir. We will be riding on that storm when it arrives. But the rumblings are somewhat distant. I, too, see signs, but the time is not yet. By the way, where is your brother?”

“I don't see much of him. He is up and down the line, busy with his sick and running this library and clubroom business.”

“Yes,” replied Daggett thoughtfully, “I hear of him often. The railroad men and the lumbermen grovel to him. Look here, would he run in this constituency?”

Dick laughed at him. “Not he. Why, man, he's straight. You couldn't buy him. Oh, I know the game.”

Daggett was silenced for some moments.

“Hello!” said Daggett, looking out of the window, “here is our coming Member.” He opened the door. “Mr. Hull, let me introduce you to the Reverend Richard Boyle, preacher and moral reformer. Mr. Boyle--Mr. Hull, the coming Member for this constituency.”

“I hope he will make a better fist of it than the present incumbent,” said Dick a little gruffly, for he had little respect for either of the political parties or their representatives. “I must get along. But, Daggett, for goodness' sake do something with this beastly gambling-hell business.” With this he closed the door.

“Good fellow, Boyle, I reckon,” said Hull, “but a little unpractical, eh?”

“Yes,” agreed Daggett, “he is somewhat visionary. But I begin to think he is on the right track.”

“How? What do you mean?”

“I mean the West is beginning to lose its wool, and it's time this country was getting civilized. That fool editor of The Pioneer thinks that because he keeps wearing buckskin pants and a cowboy hat, he can keep back the wheels of time. He hasn't brains enough to last him over night. Boyle says he sees the signs of a coming storm. I believe I see them, too.”

“Signs?” inquired Hull.

“Yes, the East is taking notice. The big corporations are being held responsible for their men, their health, and their morals. 'Mexico,' too, has something up his sleeve. He's acting queer, and this Boyle's brother is taking a hand, I believe.”

“The doctor, eh? Pshaw! let him.”

“Do you know him?”

“Not well.”

“You get next him quick. He's the coming man in this country, don't forget it.”

Hull grunted rather contemptuously. He himself was a man of considerable wealth. He was an old timer and cherished the old timer's contempt for the tenderfoot.

“All right,” said Daggett, “you may sniff. I've watched him and I've discovered this, that what he wants to do he does. He's an old poker player. He has cleaned out 'Mexico' half a dozen times. He has quit poker now, they say, and he's got 'Mexico' going queer.”

“What's his game?”

“Can't make it out quite. He has turned religious, they say. Spoke here at a big meeting last spring, quite dramatic, I believe. I wasn't there. Offered to pay back his ungodly winnings. Of course, no man would listen to that, so he's putting libraries into the camps and establishing clubrooms.”

“By Jove! it's a good game. But what do the boys, what does 'Mexico' think of it?”

“Why, that's the strangest part of it. He's got them going his way. He's a doctor, you know, has nursed a lot of them, and they swear by him. He's a sign, I tell you. So is 'Mexico.'”

“What about 'Mexico'?”

“Well, you know 'Mexico' has been the head centre of the saloon outfit, divides the spoil and collects the 'rents.' But I say he's acting queer.”