The primaries which were held on Friday elected delegates to the convention of Saturday.  If we scan the large body which is now gathering, it may be seen that the business of to-day is to be done by men who either hold or control office.  The sidewalk inspectors, the health inspectors, the city and county building men, the men of the “institutions;” and the men of the postoffice are delegates.  It may be safely guessed that they have no desire other than to hold their places until better places can be commanded.  The party can trust its delegates.  In this hall is gathered the effective governing force of the whole city.  To these men a majority of the citizens have relinquished the business of public service.  All those citizens who object are in the minority, and a majority of the minority object, only because it is desired that a different set of men should perform the same labors in the same way.

The political boss is not in sight.  Eight delegations of Harpwood men are admitted because they cannot be kept out.  The convention is called to order by a motion that a Lockwin man shall be chairman.

Four saloon-keepers stand upon chairs and shout.

Four bouncers of four rival saloons pull the orators down to the floor.  The saloon-keepers are unarmed—­their bung-starters are at home.  The Lockwin man is in the chair.  He has not been elected.  Election in such a hubbub is impossible, and is not expected.

But the assumption of the chair by anybody is a good thing.  The convention is thus enabled to learn that Corkey is making a speech.  A chair is held on top of another chair.  On this conspicuous perch the hero of the docks holds forth.

Corkey is an oddity.  He is a new factor in politics.  The rounders are curious to hear what he is saying.

“Your honor!” cries Corkey in a loud voice.

There is a sensation of merriment, which angers the orator.

“Oh, I know you’re all no-gooders,” he says.  “I know that as well as any of ye.”

There is a hurricane of cat-calls from the galleries.

There are cries of “Come down!” “Pull down his vest!” “See the sawed-off!”

“Yes, ’come down’!” yells the speaker in a white heat.  “That’s what you bloodsuckers make Lockwin do.  He come down!  I should say he did!  But I’m no soft mark—­you hear me?  You bet your sweet life!”

The merriment is over.  This is outrageous.  The dignity of this convention has been compromised.  There is a furious movement in the rear.  The tumult is again unrestrained.  Corkey has blundered.

The chairman pounds for order.  The police begin to “suppress the excitement.”

“Mr. Corkey, I understand, has an important announcement to make,” cries the chair.

“You bet I have!” corroborates the navigator.

“Spit it out!”

“Make the turn, Corkey!”

“Everything goes as it lays!”