edressed, or for which satisfaction has not been demanded, I have,
Senators, in this solemn hour of our parting to offer you my apology--"

The low musical voice died softly away in the silence of tears.

A woman sobbed aloud.

Socola bent toward his trembling companion and whispered:

"Who is she?"

Jennie brushed the tears from her brown eyes before replying:

"The Senator's wife. She's heart-broken over it all--didn't sleep a
wink all night. I've been looking for her to faint every minute."

The leader closed his portfolio. His hollow cheeks, thin lips and white
drawn face were clothed with an expression of sorrow beyond words as he
slowly turned and left the scene of his life's triumphs.

The spell of his eloquence at last thrown off the crowd once more
dissolved into hostile lowering groups.

Stern old Zack Chandler of Michigan collided with Jennie's father in the
cloak room, his eyes red with wrath.

"Well, Barton," he growled, "after the damned insolence of that scene if
the North don't fight, I'll be much mistaken--"

"You generally are, sir," Barton retorted.

"If they don't fight, by the living God, I'll leave this country and
join another nation--the Comanche Indians preferred to this Government."

Barton glanced at his opponent and his heavy jaw closed with a snap.

"I trust, Senator," he said with deliberate venom, "you will not carry
out that resolution--the Comanche Indians have already suffered too much
from contact with the whites!"

Dick Welford heard the shot and gripped the fierce old Southerner's hand
as Chandler turned on his heel and disappeared with an oath.

"You got him that time, Senator!"

Barton laughed with boyish glee.

"I did, didn't I? Sometimes we can only think of our best things when
it's too late. But by Gimminy I got the old rascal this time, didn't I?"

"You certainly plugged him--what did you think of the speeches?"

"Clay said something! Davis is too slow. He's got no blood in his
veins. I don't like him. He'll pull us back into the Union yet if we
don't watch him. He's a reconstructionist at heart. The State of
Mississippi is dragging him out of Washington by the heels. He makes me
tired. The time for talk has passed. To your tents now, O Israel!"

Dick hurried to the gallery and watched Socola talking in his graceful
Italian way with Jennie. He had hated this elegant foreigner the moment
he had laid eyes on him. He made up his mind to declare himself befo