The Candidate: A Political Romance
travellers, but it was clear that there were now two parties following
the candidate, since the old and the new did not coalesce. The members
of the committee showed at once that they knew themselves to be the
mainstay of the country, while the others were merely frivolous and
unstable politicians.
Sylvia, of course, was eager to know what they had said and how they
bore themselves, and Harley was anxious to gratify her.
"They said they were very great men, and they bore themselves
accordingly."
"Uncle James is a greater man than all of them put together."
"I foresee trouble," said Hobart, joyfully, to Harley a little later. "I
can feel it in the air around me, I breathe it, I can even see it."
"Hobart," said Harley, pityingly, "you only obey your instincts."
"Wherein I am a wise man," replied Hobart, with satisfaction. "I am out
here to get news, and the livelier the news the better. Now I think
that these gentlemen will soon furnish us something worth writing
about."
"I am afraid so," said Harley, despondently.
The committee was in no haste to speak. Its members dined luxuriously in
their private car, and invited to join them those whom they thought
worthy of the honor--only a very few besides the ladies. Among these was
Harley; but it was Jimmy Grayson who took him.
The conversation was exclusively commercial and financial. Mr.
Goodnight, Mr. Crayon, and their associates were well aware that the
whole science of government pertained to the development of trade, and
it was the business of a people, as well as of a man, to stick to the
main point. It was for this reason, too, that Mr. Crayon incidentally
let it be understood that he did not value a college education. He had
several university graduates working for him on small salaries, while he
had never been inside the walls of a university, and that was the
beginning and end of the matter; there could be no further discussion.
"I understand you are connected with the press," he said to Harley, who
sat in the next chair. "I should think there was not much in that; but
still, with careful, diligent man, it might serve as opening into
financial circles. You must come in contact with men of importance. I
know a man, originally a writer for press, who has risen to be a bank
cashier. Worthy fellow."
"I am sure that he must be," said Harley, and Mr. Crayon's opinion of
him rose.
The atmosphere of which Hobart spoke with such emphasis did not permeate
the special car. There was no sign of trouble around the bountiful
dining-table. The committee had its own way and did all the talking,
leaving Mr. Grayson, Mr. Heathcote, and the others in silence. Hence
there was no chance of a disagreement, and, as Harley judged, Mr.
Goodnight and Mr. Crayon were assured that this pleasant state of
affairs would continue.
Mr. Crayon, who was pleased with his neighbor, again gave Mr. Harley
enlightenment. He asked him about the country through which they were
passing, and was kind enough to consider his information of some weight.
But he permitted Harley to furnish only the premises; it was reserved
for himself to draw the conclusions; he predicted with absolute
certainty the future of this region and the amount of revenue it would
yield through its threefold interests--agricultural, pastoral, and
mineral. He added that only the trained mind could make these accurate
estimates.
"Well, what happened?" asked Hobart, when Harley returned to his own
car.
"Nothing."
"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
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 indiscretions of
youth and inexperience. But, perforce, he remained silent until Mr.
Grayson concluded, and then as the crowd was leaving, he approached him.
The candidate seemed to be in a light and joyous humor, and he lifted
his hand in a gesture that was a dismissal of care.
"Remember our coming conference to-night, Mr. Goodnight," he said. "We
will discuss everything then."
He smiled as he spoke, and walked on, but Mr. Goodnight felt himself
waved aside in a manner that was not pleasing to his sense of dignity;
he was sixty years old, and he had done great things in the world.
Harley and Hobart saw it all, and light began to appear on Hobart's
gloomy countenance.