that Churchill was absent. The
descending sun had just touched the crests of the distant mountains, and
they swam in a tremulous golden glow. The sunset radiance over nature in
her mighty aspects affected all on the porch, used as they were to it,
and that was why they were silent. But they turned inquiring eyes upon
Harley when he joined them.

"What has become of Heathcote?" asked Barton.

"He is engaged upon an important task just now," replied Harley.

"And what is that?"

"He is editing Jimmy Grayson's speech."

Twenty chairs came down with a crash, and twenty pairs of eyes stared in
indignant astonishment.

"King" Plummer's effort to hold himself in his chair seemed to be a
strain.

"He may not be doing that particular thing at this particular moment,"
continued Harley, "but he told me very distinctly that he was here for
that purpose, and he has also just told me that I could not see Jimmy
Grayson, that he intended henceforth to act as an intermediary between
the candidate and the press."

"And you stood it?" exclaimed Hobart.

"For the present, yes," replied Harley, evenly; "and I did so because I
thought I saw a better way out of the trouble than an immediate quarrel
with Heathcote--a better way, above all, for Jimmy Grayson and the
party."

The Western men said nothing, though they looked their deep disgust, and
presently they quitted the porch, leaving it, rocking-chairs and all, to
the correspondents.

"Boys," said Harley, earnestly, "I've a request to make of you. Let me
take the lead in this affair; I've a plan that I think will work."

"Well, you are in a measure the chief of our corps," said Warrener, one
of the Chicago men. "I don't know why you are, but all of us have got
to looking on you in that way."

"I, for one, promise to be good and obey," said Hobart, "but I won't
deny that it will be a hard job. Perhaps I could stand the man, if it
were not for his accent--it sounds to me as if his voice were coming out
of the top of his head, instead of his chest, where a good, honest voice
ought to have its home."

"Now you listen," said Harley, "and I will my tale unfold."

Then they put their heads together and talked long and earnestly.

The shaggy mountains were in deep shadow, and the sunset was creeping
into the west when Jimmy Grayson came out on the porch where the
correspondents yet sat. Harley at once noticed a significant change in
his appearance; he looked troubled. Before, i