Part 87

“You ought to have listened a little more closely to us, Colonel,” insisted the committeeman. “Every once in a while there comes forward a man whom the people will follow. And he is never the rich man nor the proud man, but he is one who knows how to reach the hearts of the crowd. A shrewd politician can get power by building up his machine. And then some fellow in overalls who has some kind of a God-given quality that has never been explained yet so that we can understand, smashes into sight like a comet. It may be his way of talking to men, it may be his personality--it is more likely a divine spark in him that neither he himself nor other men understand. But every now and again some humble chap like that has changed the history of the world, and I reckon it's pretty easy for such a man to change the politics of a mere state.”

His associates were staring at him and Colonel Dodd was giving him furious glances. He had spoken with enthusiasm. He broke off suddenly.

“I beg your pardon. I don't mean to go quite so far. But I'm a student of history and I've read a lot about natural-born leaders.”

“You evidently know more about history than you do about politics,” growled the colonel. “This whole state committee doesn't seem to know much politics. If you have allowed that Farr to slime his way around under cover and do you up in your own counties, I'll see to it that we have a new state committee.”

“I have an idea that that convention out there will attend to the matter of a new state committee for us.”

The new speaker's voice was very soft. His nickname in state politics was “Whispering Saunders.” He was known as being the most artistic political “pussy-foot” in the party. It was averred that he could put on rubber boots and run twice around the State House on a fresh fall of light snow and not leave a track.

“If I'm any kind of a smeller--and I reckon it's admitted that I am,” purred Saunders, “we are walloped before the start-off in every county delegation out on that floor.”

“But what has been the matter with you fellows all the time?” blazed the boss. “Up to now you have been reporting simply that the soreheads were growling and were not getting together so as to be dangerous.”

“Did you ever try to shovel up soft soap from a cellar floor with a knitting-needle?” inquired the politician. “That's how it's been in this case. Every man I talked with was slippery. I know slippery times when I see 'em. I've been afraid, but I hoped for the best. Now that they are here, with this convention due to be called to order, they are not slippery any longer. They don't need to be. I've just been through the convention hall. They are out and open--and they're against us.”

“That Farr has a proxy from a delegate in the Eleventh Ward and is on the floor,” stated another.

“But he isn't a voter.”

“He wasn't a little while ago, but he is to-day, Colonel. The board of registration had to put his name on the books--he has lived here long enough to become a voter.”

Colonel Dodd glared from face to face. It was plain that he was angered rather than dismayed; he was like a bull at bay, shaking the pricking darts out of his shoulders. He took a hasty glance at his watch. 'Twas twenty minutes past the hour appointed for the calling of the convention. He could hear the distant band still bellowing bravely to kill time.

A giant of a man stood up--a cool man, rather cynical. He was the chairman of the state committee.

“I have been waiting till all these gentlemen got the panic worked out of their systems--or, at least, had said all they could think of about that panic, Colonel. Now we can go ahead and do real business. We have not had a battle in this state for a long time, and this panic may be excusable. They say that the men who are the worst frightened before the battle do the best fighting after they get into the real scrap. I will admit that the situation in the state has been a little slippery, as Saunders has said. And some men have dared to do a lot of loud talking since they have arrived here in this city. It is so strange a thing that it has got everybody in a panic. The Chinese are wise--they show dragons to the enemy, but the dragons are only paper. Wouldn't think the enemy could be scared that way, eh? But look at this bunch of state committeemen! A pasteboard 'natural-born leader' set up, and Archer Converse puffing smoke through the nostrils of that effigy! Gentlemen, you ought to be ashamed of yourselves!”

Colonel Dodd snorted emphatic approval.

“You are talking like children. Guff and growls can't carry this convention. That crowd hasn't even got a candidate for governor. Have you heard one mentioned?”

“I don't suppose they would dare to go as far as that,” said one of the committeemen. “Governor Harwood, by party usage, is entitled to a renomination, of course. What they figure on is a new state committee and a platform that will include reforms.”

“Huh! Yes! So much striped candy! Give it to 'em. Then we've got only twenty-four men to handle in the way we have always handled state committees--and even that crowd can't find saints and archangels for their candidates! And as for a political platform--bah!”

It was the practical politician's caustic estimate of conditions.

Then the chairman joined in, bolstering this supercilious view: “As for that legislature--how many bills were ever passed in our legislature over a governor's veto after we had got in our work? We are going to have a safe man for governor. That band's lungs won't last for ever. Colonel Dodd, are you ready?”

If revolt and the spirit of resentment and rebellion did exist in that assemblage, which the magnates of the party faced when they marched upon the platform, the tumult of applause covered all sinister outward aspects. The routine of the convention was entered upon: the secretary read the convention call, the organization was perfected without protest, and the orator of the day, as president pro tem, a conservative United States Senator, began his “key-note speech.” It was a document which had been in proof slips for a week, and which all the party workers from Colonel Dodd down had read and approved. Therefore, when Richard Dodd entered from one of the side doors and came tiptoeing across the platform and touched the colonel's arm and jerked energetic request for the colonel to follow, the colonel followed, glad of an excuse to be absent while the Senator fulminated.

Young Dodd's face was flushed and working with excitement. He hurried his uncle into a small retiring-room and locked the door.

“I've got your man, uncle,” he declared.

“What man?” The colonel was grouchy and indifferent.

“Your man Farr.”

“I don't claim him.”

“But you said you wanted him. You said you wanted to hang him like a dead crow in the political bean-patch.”