in the business part of
politics had been with tangible foes, with material things; and his
weapons had been material things: coercion, bribery (more or less
sugar-coated), cheating, and often in these later years the roar of
his voice or the power of his name. But now, facing the formless,
impersonal thing called public opinion, hitherto unknown in his scheme
of things, he was filled with uncertainty and indecision.

One autumn day, after sending three stenographers home limp and weary
with directions for his battles, Barclay strayed into McHurdie's shop.
The general and Dolan were the only members of the parliament present
that afternoon, besides Watts. Barclay nodded at the general without
speaking, and Dolan said:--

"Cool, ain't it? Think it will freeze?"

Barclay took a chair, and when Dolan and Ward saw that he had come for
a visit, they left.

"Watts," asked Barclay, after the others had gone, and the little man
at the bench did not speak, "Watts, what's got into the people of this
country? What have I done that they should begin pounding me this
way?"

McHurdie turned a gentle smile on his visitor, knowing that Barclay
would do the talking. Barclay went on: "Here are five suits in county
courts in Texas against me; a suit in Kansas by the attorney-general,
five or ten in the Dakotas, three in Nebraska, one or two in each of
the Lake states, and the juries always finding against me. I haven't
changed my methods. I'm doing just what I've done for fifteen years.
I've had lots of lawsuits before, with stockholders and rival
companies and partners, and millers and all that--but this standing
in front of the mob and fighting them off--why? Why? What have I
done? These county attorneys and attorneys-general seem to delight in
it--now why? They didn't used to; it used to be that only cranks like
old Phil Ward even talked of such things, and people laughed at them;
and now prosecuting attorneys actually do these things, and people
reelect them. Why? What's got into the people? What am I doing that I
haven't been doing?"

"Maybe the people are growing honest, John," suggested the harness
maker amiably.

Barclay threw back his head and roared: "Naw--naw--it isn't that;
it's the damn newspapers. That's what it is! They're what's raising
the devil. But why? Why? What have I done? Why, they have even
bulldozed some of my own federal judges--my own men, Watts, my own
men; men whose senators came into my office with