ey's resolution
faltered, but it was only for a moment, and then, taking his key from
the clerk, he went in silence to his room. He understood the position of
Jimmy Grayson, he knew how much the party was indebted to Mr. Heathcote
for payment of the campaign's necessary expenses, but he was determined
to carry out his plan, which he believed would succeed.

But there was one man in Jimmy Grayson's group to whom the appearance of
Mr. Heathcote was welcome, and this was Churchill, who was sure that he
recognized in him a kindred spirit. He sent a long despatch to the
_Monitor_, telling of the very beneficial effect the committeeman's
presence already exercised upon the campaign, particularly the new tone
of dignity that he had given to it. He also cultivated Mr. Heathcote,
and was willing to furnish him deferential advice.

As the special train was to leave early the next morning for the
northern part of the state, they ate breakfast in a dim dawn, with only
the rim of the sun showing over the eastern mountains. Mr. Heathcote
came in late and found every chair occupied. No one moved or took any
notice. Jimmy Grayson looked embarrassed, and said in a propitiatory
tone to the proprietor, who stood near the window:

"Can't you fix a place for Mr. Heathcote?"

"Oh, I guess I kin bring in a little table from the kitchen," replied
Bill Jeffreys, negligently, "but he'll have to hustle; that train goes
in less than ten minutes."

The table was brought in, and Mr. Heathcote ate more quickly than ever
before in his life, although he found time for caustic criticism of the
hotel accommodations in Red Cloud. Just as he put down his half-emptied
coffee-cup the train blew a warning whistle.

"That engineer is at least three minutes ahead of time," said Barton.

"He's a lively fellow," said Hobart. "I was up early, and he told me he
wasn't going to wait a single minute, even if he did have a Presidential
nominee aboard."

The eyes of Barton and Hobart met, and Barton understood.

"We'd better run for it," said Barton, and they hurried to the train,
Mr. Heathcote borne on in the press. As they settled into their seats
Barton pointed out of the window, and cried: "Look! Look! The 'man' is
about to get left!"

John, a valise in one hand and a hat-box in the other, was rushing for
the train, which had already begun to move. But the conductor reached
down the steps, grasped him by the collar, and dragged him, baggage and
all, abo