“The chances,” he said, “are more than even that this bill passes.  Men we have been able to depend on are refractory.  Siggins is doing his best, but so far he has been able to account for only forty-five per cent of the votes.  The strange thing about it,” he finished, with genuine amazement, “is that the other side doesn’t seem to be spending a penny.”

Which was perfectly true.  Neither in that fight nor in any of the scores of legislative battles in which Scattergood took part in his after life did he spend a dollar to buy a vote or to influence legislation.  Perhaps it was scruple on his part; perhaps economy; perhaps he felt that his own peculiar methods were more efficacious than mere barter and sale.

From end to end, the state was in excitement over the measure.  Skillful work had made it seem a vital thing to the people, and hundreds of letters and telegrams poured in to representatives.  It looked as if public opinion were overwhelmingly with the bill.  It was Scattergood’s first use of the weapon of public opinion.  In this battle he learned its potentialities.  Men who knew him well and were close to him in political matters declare he became the most skillful creator of a fictitious public opinion that ever lived in the state.  It was in keeping with his methods that he always seemed to be acting in response to a demand from the public rather than that he excited the public to demand what Scattergood wanted.  But that was when Scattergood’s hair was touched with gray and his girth had increased by twoscore pounds.

“I can’t find any trace of Scattergood Baines in this matter,” Hammond reported to President Castle.

That was true.  Scattergood stayed at home, tending vigorously to his hardware business.  Representatives did not call on him; he did not call on them.  No trails led to his door.

President Castle had expected overtures from Scattergood, but none materialized.  To a man of Castle’s experience this was more than strange; it was uncanny.  He began to consider the situation really serious.  Was the man so confident as his silence indicated?

“Get the votes,” he wired succinctly to Hammond, and Hammond, reading the message correctly, dipped into the emergency barrel of the railroad with generous hands.  Prosperity had come to that legislature.  Yet he was able, at the end of another two weeks, to guarantee six votes less than a majority.  The opposition had captured one more vote than he, and needed but five to pass their measure.  Hammond faced the task of acquiring those five unplaced legislators, and of weaning one away from Scattergood—­and the bill was due to come up in the House in two days.

That day President Castle himself arrived in the capital, and, after discussing the situation with Hammond, wired Scattergood, asking for an appointment.  The mountain was going to Mohammed.  Scattergood replied not a word.

“I calc’late,” he said to Mandy, “that President Castle’s raisin’ him a blister.”