The Landloper: The Romance of a Man on Foot
will stand with the people in this crusade!”
This amazing declaration in open convention produced as much
consternation on the platform as if Farr had dropped a bomb there.
He uttered something which was worse than mere political rebellion: he
was proposing to take for the people properties which constituted the
backbone of the oligarchy's power in state affairs.
Colonel Dodd had been growling behind the chairman, angrily endeavoring
to get the ear of that gentleman. But the chairman seemed to be as
wholly absorbed by this astonishing arraignment as were the delegates.
The head of the state machine, for the first time in his career, was
compelled to come into the open instead of through the mouth of a
lieutenant. He could not wait to give orders.
He rose and stamped to the front of the platform. His voice rang hoarse
and loud.
“There can be no more of this unparliamentary and irregular nonsense.
What has got into this convention? Don't you understand that no speaker
is allowed to break the rules and attack a man under guise of nominating
another? Mr. Chairman, I demand that this slanderer be removed from the
hall and that we proceed to the nomination of a governor.”
There was a hush during which Farr and Colonel Dodd looked at each
other, crossing their stares like long rapiers over the terraced heads.
“I fear I was wrong,” confessed Farr, gently. “But we poor folks down in
the ranks don't know much about the rules, and when we are struggling
to save the ones we love we are apt to forget and talk to the heart of
things. I am not trying to show that I am a skilful orator, gentlemen of
the convention.” He held up his arms. “I am crying for _Justice_!”
The delegates broke into applause once more.
And Walker Farr sent a queer look straight into the eyes of the colonel.
Conviction slapped Colonel Symonds Dodd in his mental face with a
violence that made him blink!
This man was no amateur in understanding how to sway an audience. To be
sure, he had transgressed parliamentary usage, but in those words he had
driven home facts that all knew to be truths--truths which others had
been afraid to voice, but which, once put into words in public, tied
the hideous stamp of ring favoritism upon Governor Harwood, made him a
candidate who could not be trusted.
The colonel understood, and he also saw plainly that the most of the
audience had accepted the apology, and held no prejudice against the
speaker.
“Now that I understand what the rules governing nominations are I will
not break them again,” declared Farr.
But like a shrewd and not over-scrupulous lawyer he had jabbed into
the proceedings a stinging truth which, though excluded by the rules,
nevertheless served vitally the big purpose of his efforts; the colonel
understood that, too, and turned back to his chair fairly livid with
rage.
“There is a man in this state who knows true law,” continued the
speaker, “and that you may be assured that he will sign a bill which is
passed for the good of the people, let me tell you a little about his
character.”
Colonel Dodd cursed without trying to moderate his tones very much.
“There's no telling what tack that renegade will take next. This
infernal convention is getting to be a nightmare. Those fools out there
are listening as if they expected that cheap demagogue to bring 'em a
new Messiah,” he told the committeemen near him.
“There's a funny noise going on out there among 'em,” ventured
“Whispering Saunders.” “Round-up fellows say they hear something like
it when a herd is getting ready to stampede. It's the same thing in a
political convention sometimes. The reason for it is: the crowd is ripe
and the head steer gives the right bellow--and off they go!”
Colonel Dodd grabbed his nephew by the elbow and rushed him off the
stage and into an anteroom.
“Is that matter on the hair-trigger, Richard?” he demanded.
“It's ready to be snapped any minute.”
The colonel whipped out his check-book and began to write. “It's as old
Saunders said,” he muttered as he wrote. “And we've got to rope, throw,
and tie that one steer.”
The check was for five thousand dollars!
Young Dodd seized it, and when his uncle hurried back upon the stage the
nephew, through the door which was left open, beckoned to Mullaney. The
detective came, hurrying past Colonel Dodd, who stared until the door
had closed behind young Dodd and the officer.
“But he's my own nephew!” he assured himself, as if he were replying to
an accusation laid against Richard Dodd. He shook his head and sat down
in his chair. “I wonder how long it has been since old Bob Mullaney put
a price of that size on his secrets! I'm afraid Richard hasn't the Dodd
ability to drive a sharp trade.”
But Richard was showing considerable ability in that line behind the
door of the anteroom.
He jammed two hundred and fifty dollars in crumpled bills into the
detective's hands, cleaning out his pockets for the purpose. He had
slipped the check into his deepest pocket the moment his uncle had
handed it to him.
“It was hard work to screw him up, Mullaney. You have seen how I worked
him. This is all he gave me--two hundred and fifty. Take it and spring
your trap.”
“You don't look honest,” grumbled the detective. “If I'm any kind of a
guesser you're holding out on me.”
“That's your price. You agreed. There isn't any time to argue this. Give
me back the money.” He grabbed the bills from Mullaney's clutch. It was
magnificent bluff. “I'll hand it to my uncle. He isn't very keen on the
thing, anyway.”
“I'll take it--give it back. I'll apologize,” pleaded Mullaney.
“Will you swear to keep all this under your hat--the whole thing? Uncle
says if you dare to speak to him about it--hint to him or anybody that
he paid money for anything on Farr--he'll deny the story and have your
license taken away.”
“I promise--swear it,” Mullaney agreed.
Dodd returned the money, and the detective started out on the trot.
“You come, too, and I'll tell you on the way. Time is short. You'd
better help me,” he advised Dodd. They hurried away together, rushed
out into the alley and around to the front of the hall, the detective
pouring certain information into Dodd's ear as they made their way to
the big door and into the main corridor.
Then they bored through the crowds.
The detective led the way and showed his badge to compel the people to
give them a lane.
They entered the rear of the auditorium.
“You take the left side and I'll take the right,” commanded Mullaney.
“We need to paralyze him first. That's all there's time for just
now--I've had short notice. But get that name to every man of your crowd
you can, and when the howl is started tell 'em all to join in.”
Dodd had had scant time to digest the knowledge which the detective
had imparted on the run. But his eyes gleamed wickedly as he began to
whisper to men among the delegates. And as he moved about he noticed
that the girl in the gallery had marked his activity, even to the extent
of turning her gaze from Walker Farr, whose voice was ringing through
the spacious hall.
XXIX
THE BOMB
Walker Farr, towering over their heads, talked to the men in whose midst
he stood.
Mere eloquence no longer avails in these days of cynical disbelief in
the motives of political orators. But this young man who stood there
was sincerity incarnate. The wonderful and mystic magnetic quality which
wins men and inspires confidence radiated from him. And every now and
then, as he glanced up at one face in the gallery his voice took on new
tones of appeal and pathos. He was one crying from the depths to those
in authority! By the marvel of his language he made the men who sat
there as delegates understand that theirs was the power to make or
mar--to save or sacrifice their state in the crisis which was upon them.
He made them feel their responsibility after he made them understand
their power.
And he also made their duty plain.
The crux of the situation rested on such a man as they should place in
the highest office in the state.
In other times, under other conditions, some pliant and amiable
figurehead might serve them well.
He told them, with outstretched finger and vibrant voice, what must be
the masterful qualifications of the man who should assume the cross of
public service and carry it up the steeps where he would be lashed at
every step of his weary way by the thongs in the hands of privileged
capital.
Colonel Symonds Dodd had come back to the platform, cursing himself for
a fool. The moment the check had left his hands he was angry because he
had allowed circumstances to stampede him.
He wondered what was getting into him and into politics.
Was he afraid of mere talk from a demagogue!
But after he had sat there for a few moments and listened, and had
watched the faces of the delegates, he decided that if five thousand
dollars would stop the mouth of that man he had spent money wisely.
It was borne in upon him that he had spent greater sums many times for
lesser service.
He saw Richard Dodd and Mullaney circulating among the delegates. He
restrained with difficulty an impulse to rise and shout to them to
hurry. He felt that danger to his program and his political structure
was imminent. Because once again were true eloquence and masterly appeal
winning men.
All the listeners in the vast hall were as still as death. All eyes were
on this speaker who seemed to be clothing with effective speech all the
hidden convictions of the delegates themselves who had nursed protest
without being able to put it into force.
Colonel Dodd had seen conventions in similar mood in the old days before
the saddle of party had been as securely cinched as it had been in late
years.
The chairman of the state committee uttered the colonel's rising fears.
The chairman had lost his sneer and his bumptious confidence. His face
was red, he was sweating, he was staring out over the convention and
snapping his fingers impatiently.
“Good gad!” he informed those in hearing on the platform, “what kind of
a turn is this thing taking? We have let this convention get away from
us. That chap has got the whole crowd marching to the mourners' bench.
He can wind up by nominating a yellow dog and they'll rise and howl him
into office by acclamation!”
Farr paused for a moment to give effect to his next words.
“Such in character, in honest impulse, in honor, in ability, in
devotion, and in God-given nobility must be the man who will lead you.
Has God given such a man to this state? He has!”
“Yes and the devil has given us Nelson Sinkler to speak for that man!”
The voice was shrill and agitated and it came from a section of the hall
where the rabid adherents of the machine were massed; it was an amazing
and shocking interruption.
“I said Nelson Sinkler--that's you!” screamed the voice.
And on that, from here and there in the hall, like snipers posted in
ambush, men shouted the name “Nelson Sinkler”--the words popping like
rifles.
There was uproar. Part of it was protest, part hysterical demonstration
of excitement in an assemblage which did not in the least understand.
Then after a time came quiet, for the object of the attack stood in his
elevated position, unruffled, stern, turning bold front to right and
left as men barked at him.
“I am here where all may look on me,” he said. “Let one or all of those
who are attacking me stand forth in view, too.”
No one stood up.
“It's a cowardly man who will not put his name to a letter or show his
face when he makes an accusation,” cried Farr.
“How about a man who doesn't dare to use his own name?” This questioner
remained in ambush.
“Your right name isn't Walker Farr and you know it isn't,” bellowed a