Part 43 (1/2)

”Nothing? Maybe so, but it won't remain nothing long. You just wait and see.”

Sylvia, to whom these men were, of course, polite, summed them up very accurately in a remark that she made to Harley.

”It is impossible to teach them anything,” she said, ”because they know everything already.”

An hour later the candidate spoke at a small station to a large audience composed of people typical of the region--miners, farmers, and cowboys, variously attired, but all quiet and peaceful. There was not a sign of disorder, there was nothing even remotely resembling the toughs of the great Eastern cities. This seemed to be a surprise to the members of the committee, who sat in a formidable semicircle on the stage behind the candidate. But as the surprise wore away a touch of disdain appeared in their manner; they seemed to doubt whether the region and its people were of any importance.

To Harley the speech of the morning was of particular interest, and he watched Jimmy Grayson with the closest attention. He wanted to see whether he would venture upon the treacherous ocean of the tariff, and he had been unable to draw from his manner any idea of his intention.

But Jimmy Grayson did not launch his bark upon those stormy waters. He handled many issues, and never did he allow any one in the audience to doubt his meaning; it was a plain yea or nay, and he drew applause from the audience or a disapproving silence, according to its feelings.

But the committee was satisfied, the faces of the members shone with pleasure, and Harley, reading their minds, saw how they told themselves of the quick effect their presence had upon Jimmy Grayson. It was well for men of weight to surround a Presidential candidate; despite himself, with strong, grave faces beside him he would put a prudent restraint upon his words. The long trip from the East and the temporary sacrifice of important interests was proving to be worth the price. When the speech was over, they congratulated him upon his caution and wisdom.

But that afternoon they were caught under a deluge of Eastern newspapers, and in them all the tariff discussion loomed formidably.

There was every indication, too, that this big storm-cloud was moving westward; already it was hovering over the Missouri River Valley, because the newspapers of Kansas City and Omaha, like those of Chicago and New York, fairly darkened with it.

And the telegrams, too, continued to fall on Jimmy Grayson thick and fast. They came in yellow showers; all the correspondents received orders to get long interviews with him upon the subject, if possible, and the leaders in every part of the country were telegraphing to do this and to do that, or not to do either. It was evident that a great population wanted to know just how Jimmy Grayson stood on the tariff.

The members of the committee took alarm; Harley saw them bustling in uneasily to Jimmy Grayson, and whispering to him much and often.

”It's begun! It's begun! The war is on!” said Hobart, gleefully. ”I hear the dropping bullets of the skirmishers!”

”Hobart, you'd exult over an earthquake!” exclaimed Harley, wrathfully.

But he knew Hobart's words to be true, and presently he drifted back to Jimmy Grayson.

”Mr. Harley is my intimate personal friend,” said the candidate to some of the members of the committee who looked askance at the correspondent; ”and what you say before me you can say before him. He knows what to print and what not to print.”

”It is this,” said Mr. Goodnight, and Mr. Crayon nodded violently in affirmation; ”all the news shows that this tariff agitation is growing fast. But it is only a trick of the enemy to force an expression from us. They are united in favor of the tariff and we are not. There is a division within our ranks. Many of us, and I may say it is the more solid and conservative wing of the party, the men who really understand the world, know that it is not wise to meddle with the question. Leave well enough alone. We are interested in this ourselves, and, as you know, we furnish the sinews of war.”

He stopped and coughed significantly, and Mr. Crayon also coughed significantly. The remaining members of the committee did likewise.

Jimmy Grayson looked thoughtful.

”Gentlemen,” he said, ”I confess to you that my mind has been upon this subject for several days past.”

”But you will listen to advice,” said Mr. Goodnight, hastily.

”Certainly! Certainly!” said Jimmy Grayson. ”But you see the time is coming when I must decide upon some course in regard to it. I appreciate the self-sacrifice of you gentlemen in leaving your business interests to come so far, and I shall be glad if we can co-operate. We reach Philipsburg to-night; I make a speech there, but it will be over early.

Suppose we have our talk immediately afterwards.”

The committee at once accepted the offer and expressed satisfaction. Mr.

Grayson showed every sign of tractability, and they began to feel again that their valuable time had not been expended in vain.

Harley told Sylvia that the affair was now bound to come to a head very soon, but she repeated her confidence in her uncle.

Hobart, however, was gloomy; his joy of the morning seemed to have pa.s.sed 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?”