Harley loved
each other and belonged to each other, "King" Plummer had gone to Idaho
for a while, but he rejoined them on the homeward journey, and his
spirits seemed fully recovered. He drifted easily in conversation about
her into the old paternal relationship with Sylvia which became him so
well, and he never again alluded to that vain dream of his that he might
be something else. Moreover, after his temporary alienation he had
become a more ardent Graysonite than ever, and would not hear of
anything except his triumphant election, despite the immense power of
the forces allied against him.

While they changed cars often in the West, the one that bore them to the
candidate's town had been their home for several weeks, and even the
engine was the same; thus the train attendants fell under the spell of
Jimmy Grayson, and when he walked down their car-steps for the last time
they came around him in their soiled working clothes and wished him
success. It was scarcely dawn then, the east was not yet white, but
Harley could see sincerity written all over their honest faces, and
Jimmy Grayson, who had listened to ten thousand words of the same kind,
some true and some false, was much moved.

"Sir," said the engineer, "at midnight, when the tale is told, I shall
be three hundred miles from here, but if you are not the man, then it is
a tale that I shall not care to hear."

"Friends," said Jimmy Grayson, gravely, "I am glad to have your good
wishes; the good wish is the father of the good act, and whatever tale
the coming night has to tell let us endure it without vaunting or
complaint."

As Mr. Grayson and his friends walked away in the growing dawn, the
railroad men raised a cheer. A little later Harley heard the puff, puff
of a locomotive followed by the grinding of wheels, and the train which
had been their home whirled away into that West where they had seen and
done so many strange things. Harley tried to follow it awhile with his
eyes, because this was like a parting with a human being, an old and
faithful friend; he felt, too, that the most vivid chapter yet in his
life was closing. Unconsciously he raised his hand and waved good-bye;
the others, noticing the act, understood and were silent.

All were under the influence of the morning, which was dawning slowly
and ill. There are fine days in November, yet we cannot depend upon it,
and now the month was in one of its bad humors. An overcast sun was
struggling t