Part 31 (1/2)
”The youthful and flamboyant qualities must be eradicated from Mr.
Grayson. Our young republic cannot afford to be discredited in the eyes of Europe by the sensational or frivolous actions of one who is nominated by a great party for the high office of President.
This last adventure with brigands in the mountains is really more than our patience will bear, and our readers know that our patience is great. We have suggested, we have advised, and we have even threatened by indirection, but thus far it has all been futile.
”Now we mean to speak with the bluntness and decision demanded by the circ.u.mstances. A committee of men, mature in years and solid in judgment, some of whom we can name, must be put in control of the campaign. Mr. Grayson must be kept within strict limits; he must take advice before delivering his speeches, and he must not be permitted to turn aside for irrelevant issues. And since the _Monitor_ speaks reluctantly, and in the utmost kindness, we suggest that he become a faithful reader of our columns. A word to the wise is sufficient.”
The day this issue of the _Monitor_ arrived Sylvia said to Churchill:
”Mr. Churchill, I want to thank you in behalf of my uncle for that beautiful editorial in the _Monitor_. It was put in the very way that would appeal to him most.”
”Do you really think so, Miss Morgan?” said Churchill, blus.h.i.+ng with borrowed pride.
”Oh yes, but it was so typical, it had so much of a certain personal quality in it, that I am sure you must have telegraphed it to the _Monitor_ yourself.”
”King” Plummer, who stood by and who had very little to say these days, smiled sourly.
XVI
BY THE FIRELIGHT
The special train now entered one of the most mountainous portions of Utah, and, as the strenuous nature of the campaign continued, its exigencies permitted little time for other things. Personal feelings, fears, and hopes had to be buried, or at least hidden for the time, and Harley, like all the rest, was absorbed in work. Nevertheless, his feeling of confidence, even exhilaration, remained. He believed that he would yet discover a way.
He found this part of the campaign pleasant, physically as well as mentally. The alternation of huge mountain and fertile valley was grateful to the eye, and, however severe the day's journey might be, they knew there would be good rest at the end.
It had been nearly a week since the episode of the dead city, when Hobart bustled back to Harley and said:
”Harley, we shall have the n.o.ble red man to hear us to-night. We stop just at the edge of the Indian reservation, and a lot of the braves, with their squaws, too, I suppose, will attend. Of course they will be duly impressed by Jimmy Grayson's oratory.”
Sylvia Morgan was present when this news was announced, and Hobart suddenly stopped short and glanced at her. She had turned pale, and then, remembering that old tragedy in her life when she was a little child, he ascribed her pallor to her horror at the mention of Indians.
But Hobart did not know that they were approaching the scene of the memorable ma.s.sacre.
The train now curved southward and entered a fertile valley lying like a bowl among the high mountains. They saw here fields that had been golden with wheat, ripe fruit yet hung from the trees, and the touch of green was still visible, although autumn had come. By the railway track a clear mountain stream flowed, sparkling in the thin, pure air, and there was more than one full-grown man in the candidate's party who, with memories of his youth before him, longed to pull off shoes and socks and wade in it with bare feet.
The sight was most refres.h.i.+ng after so much mountain and arid expanse, and the tired travellers brightened up visibly.
”One of the states has the motto, 'Here we rest'--I've forgotten which it is--but it ought to be Utah,” said Hobart, ”and now's the time.”
He was not disappointed. They came before noon to Belleville, the metropolis of the valley, the place where the candidate was going to speak, one of the prettiest little towns that ever built its nest in the Rocky Mountains. They were all enthusiastic over it, with its trim houses, its well-paved streets, the clear water flowing beside the curbs, and its air of completion. The people, too, had all the Western courage and energy, without its roughness and undue expression, and so the candidate and his party luxuriated.
”You wouldn't think that this gem of a town was harried more by Indians in its infancy than perhaps any other place in the West, would you?”
said Hobart to Harley.
”Hobart, what a nuisance you are!” replied Harley; ”you are always prowling around in search of useless facts. Now, I don't want to hear anything about bloodshed and ma.s.sacre, when Belleville is the picture of neatness and comfort that it is to-day. Look at that little opera-house over there! You couldn't find anything handsomer in a city of fifty thousand in the East.”
”Harley,” said Hobart, with emphasis, ”I wouldn't have your lack of curiosity for anything in the world,” and he wandered away in disgust to pour his ancient history into the ears of a more willing listener.
At twilight they ate an admirable dinner, and then Harley, Hobart, who had returned from his explorations, Blaisdell, and two or three others, after their custom, filled in the interval between supper and the speeches with a stroll through the village, Mr. Plummer going along as a sort of mentor. The keeper of the hotel informed them that many of the Indians already were in town and were ”tanking up.” Harley found this to be true, and the red men failed to arouse in him either respect or admiration. If they had ever had any n.o.bility of the wilderness, it was gone now, and they seemed to him a sodden, depressed, and repellent race. A half-dozen or so, in various stages of drunkenness, through whiskey surrept.i.tiously obtained, increased the feeling of aversion.