Thelismer Thornton forged through the crowd in that direction. He paid
his respects publicly and heartily. In that hour when congratulations
sugared the surface of conditions, after he had pump-handled men until
his arm ached, Everett forgot that he ever had entertained doubts.

"There's nothing to this!" he had been assuring the State chairman over
and over, catching opportunity for asides. "They're all coming into
line. The sight of you and Thornton backing me has reminded them all
that they can't afford to rip the party open. There's nothing to it!"

Presson agreed amiably. But studying his men, searching for insincerity,
he saw what Everett closed his eyes to. He exchanged a significant
glance with the Duke as the latter turned to resume his promenade.

Above the continual, distracting babble one sonorous voice rose
insistently. Laughter and applause broke in upon it occasionally. There
was a din in that corner of the lobby that attracted many of the
curiosity-seekers in that direction.

"There's Fog-horn Spinney holding forth," Thornton informed Harlan,
ironically. "Come along. We mustn't slight any of the candidates."

They made way for him. Men grinned up into his face as he passed. They
scented possible entertainment when the big boss met the demagogue. Many
of the men wore badges--long strips of ribbon with this legend printed
thereon, running lengthwise of the ribbon:

HONEST ARBA

Candidate Spinney had a thick packet of ribbons in one of his
gesticulating hands. He was flushed, vociferous, and somewhat insolent.
Like Everett, he was not analyzing the acclamation that greeted
everything he said; applause had made him drunk. But under the hilarity
of his listeners there was considerable enthusiasm for the man himself.
The Duke perceived it, for he realized what times had come upon the
State. Spinney's bombast expressed the protest that was abroad.
Rebellion, thirsty, does not seek the cold spring of Reason. It fuddles
itself with hot speech, it riots--it dares not pause to ponder.

"The men that are running this State to-day are running it for
themselves," he declaimed, as Thornton and his grandson came into the
front rank of his listeners. "They want it all. I brand 'em for what
they are. I could take glue and a hair-brush and make hogs out of every
one of 'em!"

A shout of laughter! There was more zest for the mob in the point of Mr.
Spinney's remarks, with the Duke of Fort Canibas, lord of the no