ver, was gloomy; his joy of the morning seemed to have
passed quickly.

"I don't like it," he remarked to Harley. "Jimmy Grayson seems to have
followed the lead of these men without once saying: 'I am the nominee
and it is for me to say.'"

"And why not? Every dictate of prudence requires that he should. What is
the use of taking up such a troublesome question at this late day of the
campaign?"

"But there will be no fight!" This was said very plaintively.

Harley smiled.

"I sincerely hope we will escape one," he said.

Mr. Grayson, after the brief talk, retired to his state-room, and for a
long time did not see anybody. Harley knew that he was thinking deeply,
and when the time came for the next speech at another way-station, he
followed close behind and was keenly watchful.

Again the members of the committee arranged themselves on the stage in a
formidable semicircle behind the speaker, and surveyed the audience with
an air that bore a tinge of weary disdain. They were in one of the most
barren parts of the country, a section that could never be developed
into anything great, and Mr. Crayon looked upon a speech there as a
sheer waste of time.

The candidate spoke upon many important issues, and then he began to
skirmish gingerly around the edge of one that hitherto had been
permitted to slumber quietly. He did not show any wish to make a direct
attack, just a desire to worry and tease, as it were, a disposition to
fire a few shots, more for the sake of creating an alarm than to do
damage.

The committee at once felt apprehension. This was forbidden ground. The
candidate was growing entirely too frivolous; he should be reminded of
his duty to the country and to great business interests. Yet they could
do nothing at the moment; Mr. Grayson was speaking, and it was
impossible to interrupt him.

But Harley, attentive and knowing everything that passed in their minds,
enjoyed their uneasiness. He saw them quiver and shrink, and then grow
angry, as Mr. Grayson skirmished closer and closer to the forbidden
ground, that area sown with traps and pitfalls, in which many a man has
broken his political limbs, yea, has even lost his political life. He
watched the massive Mr. Goodnight as he swelled with importance and
indignation. He knew that the great manufacturer was on pins to get at
the candidate, to tell him the terrible mistake that he was so near to
making, and perhaps to lecture him a little on the indiscre