him.
Everywhere was an air of security. Men moved slower. Their faces were
less anxious and more placid; they had leisure to talk as they met at
the shop door. The _boss_ seemed farther away. But all this security
did not conceal the poverty which he now saw everywhere. The houses
were mainly low, unpainted buildings, containing only three or four
cramped rooms. They were a little smarter in appearance than the
country type, but not much more commodious.

"I wonder if you are one of the speakers here to-day," said a voice
behind him.

Bradley turned, and saw a small man with a stubby mustache, under whose
derby hat-rim a pair of round black eyes shone with a keen glitter.

"No, sir, I'm not."

"Beg pardon, no harm done. Saw you get off with your valise; knew you
weren't a native by the cut o' y'r jib. Excuse me, I hope?"

"Certainly; I'm just on to see some friends here."

"_Pre_cisely; I'm up from Kansas City to see the big 'round up,' as
they call it. Here's my card. I represent what our Alliance friends
call the 'plutocratic press.'" His card stated that his name was Mr.
Davis, and that he represented the _Chronicle_. "I'm afraid the parade
must be over by this time, but I missed my train. Perhaps we had better
step along a little."

They had reached the main street, a broad avenue which ran north and
south across a gentle swell in the prairie. There were a great many
people on the sidewalks, and teams were moving in various directions
slowly and in apparent confusion.

"Let's go over here to the Commercial House; that's the headquarters of
all the brethren," said Davis.

They went across the street to the Commercial House, which they found
full of men in groups, talking very earnestly, but quietly. Most of
them were farmer-like looking figures, big and brown, and dressed in
worn, faded clothing, but here and there a young man stood, wearing a
broad white hat, and with a gay handkerchief knotted loosely about his
neck. On all sides could be heard the slightly-drawling speech of the
Kansan.

They went up to a little balcony which projected over the walk. Four or
five other young fellows were already seated there. Some of them were
magnificent-looking fellows, keen, wholesome, and picturesque in their
dress.

"Excuse me now, gentlemen," said Davis, whipping out his note-book.
"I'm a reporter, and here they come!"

Up the broad street, under that soaring sky, from their homes upon a
magnificently ferti