and denounce.

He slipped off his horse, and led him toward the porch. But before he
could speak his grandfather hailed him.

"Run in to your supper, bub. The boys are holding it hot for you. Luke
and I were too hungry to wait."

"I can't eat now--not with what's on _my_ mind."

"Oh, bub--bub! Run along with you! There's plenty of time for talk. I'll
be here when you come out. Get something to eat, now! That's a good
boy!"

Somehow he couldn't begin the attack just then. That tone was too
affectionate, too matter-of-fact. And even then his hand seemed to feel
the pressure of the little fingers that had released him at the bridge,
and the choking feeling was still in his throat.

He gave his horse over to the hostler, and went into the house.

The lamp in the old mess-room thrust its beams only a little way into
the gloom. It shone over the table and left the corners dark. The cookee
brought the food from the kitchen, poured the tea, and then wiped his
hands briskly on his canvas apron.

"I want to shake with you, Mr. Harlan!" He put out his hand, so frankly
confident that he was doing the proper thing that the young man grasped
it. "It was done to 'em good and proper. They tried to pull too hot a
kittle out of the bean-hole that time--sure they did! I congratulate
you! I knowed you'd get into politics some day."

Harlan pulled his hand away, and began to eat.

"Served up hot to 'em--that mess was," chuckled the cookee, on the easy
terms of the familiar in the household. "Nothing like a rousin' fire if
you're going to make the political pot bile in good shape."

He chuckled significantly.

The man pushed the food nearer, for Harlan did not seem to be taking
much interest in his supper.

"I suppose you'll be boardin' at Mr. Presson's hotel when you get down
to the legislature. I had a meal there once. They certainly do put it up
fine. Say, Mr. Harlan, what do you say? Can't you use your pull, and get
me a job as waiter or something down there for the session? Excuse me
for gettin' at it so quick, but I thought I'd hop in ahead of the
rush--they'll all be after you for something, now that you're
nominated."

The young man could not discuss with this cheerful suppliant his
indignant resolve not to be a legislator.

"You'll have to stay home here and look after Grandfather Thornton,
Bob," he hedged.

"Oh, thunder! He's goin' right down to spend the winter with you. Was
tellin' Mr. Presson so when they et