early as possible that night, because he would
need all his strength for the next day, which was to be a
record-breaker. A tremendous programme had been mapped out for Jimmy
Grayson, and Harley, although aware of the candidate's great endurance,
wondered how he would ever stand it. They were to cut the state from
southeast to northwest, a distance of more than four hundred miles, and
twenty-four speeches were to be made by the way. Fresh from war, Harley
did not remember any more arduous journey, and, like an old campaigner,
he prepared for it as best he could.

It was not yet daylight when they were awakened for the start of the
great day. A cold wind moaned around the hamlet as they ate their
breakfast, and then hastened, valise in hand, and still half asleep, to
the train, which stood steam up and ready to be off. They found several
men already on board, and Churchill, when he saw them, uttered the brief
word, "Natives!" They were typical men of the plains, thin, dry, and
weather-beaten, and the correspondents at first paid but little
attention to them. It was common enough for some local committeeman to
take along a number of friends for a half-day or so, in order that they
might have a chance to gratify their curiosity and show their admiration
for the candidate.

But the attention of Harley was attracted presently by one of the
strangers, a smallish man of middle age, with a weak jaw and a look
curiously compounded of eagerness and depression.

The stranger's eye met Harley's, and, encouraged by his friendly look,
he crossed the aisle and spoke to the correspondent.

"You are one of them newspaper fellers that travels with Grayson, ain't
you?" he asked.

Harley admitted the charge.

"And you see him every day?" continued the little man, admiringly.

"Many times a day."

"My! My! Jest to think of your comin' away out here to take down what
our Jimmy Grayson says, so them fellers in New York can read it! I'll
bet he makes Wall Street shake. I wish I was like you, mister, and could
be right alongside Jimmy Grayson every day for weeks and weeks, and
could hear every word he said while he was poundin' them fellers in Wall
Street who are ruinin' our country. He is the greatest man in the
world. Do you reckon I could get to speak to him and jest tech his
hand?"

"Why, certainly," replied Harley. He was moved by the little man's
childlike and absolute faith and his reverence for Jimmy Grayson as a
demigod. It