“Well, they won’t,” blurted a voice from a knot of men at the foot of the stairs.  “We’re getting woke up in this district.  And it ain’t going to be an empire any longer.”

“I’m rather too humble a man, sir, to associate with the high lords of politics,” Mr. Dudley remarked to the chairman.  “The Honorable Thornton has always been up there.  I’m simply one of the plain people.”

“And it’s time for the plain people to have their innings,” declared another in the crowd.

“The pack is off!” muttered the Duke in Presson’s ear.

“Why don’t you introduce him right,” called another.  “Reverend Dudley is the next representative from this district, Mr. Chairman.  And we know where he stands!”

“An humble little platform is mine,” stated the minister.  “But it’s down where all can step aboard with me.  That’s all I can say.”

There was a growl of approval in chorus from the larger group at the foot of the stairs.  Thornton’s men were at one side and looked troubled.

“War Eagle” Ivus Niles stepped forth then.  He had recovered his buck sheep.  He was hoarse, but still full of zeal.

“I want to ask you this, Tyrant Thornton:  You ain’t quite so sure that you’re Lord Gull, monarch of all you survey, since my brother Bartholomew showed you the power of the law triumphant, are you?” But the taunt did not alter the tolerant smile on the Duke’s face.

“Go ahead and get in all your yelps,” he said, under his breath.  “A hound loves company.”

“When we start in to purify, we propose to purify in good shape!” cried another.  “And a reverend elder ain’t a mite too good for us as representative to the legislature.”

“Some people think they are purifying when they burn a rag,” observed the Duke, serenely.  He lighted another cigar, beaming through the smoke on the glowering minister.

“Don’t take that wrong, elder.  I respect decency in politics.  I respect men who are trying to clean things up.  But before I’ll let you disinfect me, I’ll have to see your license and know what system you’re using.”

“You’ve got to fight the devil with fire!” roared the War Eagle.

“You mustn’t steal my own plan of campaigning, Ivus.  I’ve got a copyright on that.”

He had been studying the situation there outside the town hall while he talked.  Two men from the shire town, wearing the nickel badges of deputy sheriffs, stood at the foot of the stairs.  A group of men that he knew to be his loyal supporters from his own village were standing at one side.  He strolled over to them.

“Squire Thornton,” said one, “we’re barred out of this caucus.  They won’t let us up.”

And still their leader was imperturbable.  He turned inquiring gaze on the Reverend Dudley, and that gentleman declared himself with suspicious haste.

“This is going to be a strictly Republican caucus, and the check-list has been marked,” he said.  “We don’t propose to have Democrats come in and run our affairs for us.”