Part 8 (1/2)

”You've got to fight the devil with fire!” roared the War Eagle.

”You mustn't steal my own plan of campaigning, Ivus. I've got a copyright on that.”

He had been studying the situation there outside the town hall while he talked. Two men from the s.h.i.+re town, wearing the nickel badges of deputy sheriffs, stood at the foot of the stairs. A group of men that he knew to be his loyal supporters from his own village were standing at one side. He strolled over to them.

”Squire Thornton,” said one, ”we're barred out of this caucus. They won't let us up.”

And still their leader was imperturbable. He turned inquiring gaze on the Reverend Dudley, and that gentleman declared himself with suspicious haste.

”This is going to be a strictly Republican caucus, and the check-list has been marked,” he said. ”We don't propose to have Democrats come in and run our affairs for us.”

It was a challenge thrown down in good earnest.

In spite of the warning that his scout had brought to him, the Duke had hardly believed that amateur politicians would go to this extreme. More than ever he realized that unscrupulous men higher up were using these tools. And it was plain that the instruments had been tutored to believe that the end justified the means. What Ivus Niles said about the devil and fire betrayed them.

The Duke walked over to the minister, and took him by the lapels of his coat.

”Elder,” he protested, ”I don't like to see a good man used for tongs in politics. There's a lot you don't know about this game. You're in wrong.”

”You're not the right man to tell me so, Mr. Thornton. I represent reform. It's time we had it. And _your_ gospel in politics isn't _my_ gospel.”

”You've got the revised version, Parson Dudley, if you find a text in it about splitting a caucus at the door of the hall.”

”The sheep shall be divided from the goats, sir.”

”You've got this caucus and the Judgment Day mixed, elder.” He released the minister and stepped back. ”I never yet talked rough to a parson.

But you've cut loose from common sense. When you get down on a level with me at a caucus door you're no parson--you're a politician, and you'll have to let me say that you're a blasted poor one. You're Enoch Dudley, now. And I want to tell you, Enoch, that neither you nor any bunch of steers you happen to be teaming can keep legal voters out of that hall. As to whether this or that man can vote in the caucus, that will be settled when we get in there. But these men of mine are going in. It's up to you to decide whether they shall go in as lions or lambs.”

”Violence shall rest on your own head!” cried the minister. ”I'll see that the world knows about it.”

”We'll see whose case shows up best when the report is made,” retorted the Duke. ”But I'm done arguing. Pull off those deputies.” Sheriff Niles appeared at that moment. He had left his subalterns to store the confiscated liquors.

”Niles, pull your men off the door, here,” commanded the Duke. ”Your county politics hasn't any business at our caucus here to-day.”

”I've been asked to keep this caucus regular, and I'm going to do it,”

insisted the sheriff.

”So am I,” agreed Thornton. ”So when the story goes out it will have to be said that you and I were working together to keep politics pure.” The faithful Sylvester was hovering on the outskirts of the crowd. Thornton beckoned to him and he came. The Duke had probed the scheme and understood the stubbornness of the opposition. He was ready to act now.

”Sylvester, you're a constable of this town. Take those fifty woodsmen over there as a special posse. I'm going to stand here at the foot of these stairs, and see to it that this caucus isn't packed. If you see hand laid on me or on a respectable voter going up these stairs, you pile in with those men. Go ahead up, boys, one and all!” He stepped between the deputies and beckoned to the voters. He stood there like a lighthouse marking safe channel. He challenged both the sheriff and the minister with his gaze. ”We've got peace in stock and fight on tap, gentlemen,” he declared. ”Full a.s.sortment, and no trouble to show goods.”

The village loyalists trooped forward promptly and flocked up. The deputies made no effort to stop them. Niles did not issue orders.

Threats and badges might cow voters. But he knew woodsmen. He was not prepared to fight fifty of them.

The opposition hurried up also. Men streamed past on both sides of the old man, looming there in his wrinkled suit of crash.

”Let 'em go. We've got him licked in the caucus anyway,” growled Niles to one of his deputies. ”The back districts are here two to one against his village crowd.”

Chairman Presson stood at one side and waited. Harlan Thornton came to him, leading his horse through the crowd.