“Why, Ivus, I suppose the chaps that have paid you to go around this district shooting your mouth off about ‘tyrants’ have supplied you with plenty of ammunition.  Go ahead!  I’d like to know how it was arranged, according to their notions.”

“Who was that man that drove up to your house this morning in his devil machine, that cost more than my whole stand of farm buildings twice over—­that man that’s standing there beside you now, sneering at the voters of this State that he’s been teaming?  That’s the Honor’ble Presson.  He’s chairman of the State Committee.  He runs the big hotel down to the capital city.  And where does he get money to buy automobiles with?  I know.  It’s out of selling rum over his bar—­and there’s a law in the State constitution that makes selling rum a jail offence.  But you don’t see him in jail, do you?”

Astonishment that changed to fury nearly paralyzed the honorable chairman’s tongue while Niles proceeded that far.  When he did find his voice to protest, the War Eagle turned from him to the Duke like one who finds a weapon in each hand and becomes reckless.

“And no one sees you coming up and paying taxes on what you’re really worth.  It’s all:  ‘You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours!’ among the big fellows in this State.  You can break all the laws you want to if you’re in the right ring.  And it’s going to have a stop put to it!”

“Go ahead, Ivus!” encouraged his object of attack.

“If she’s as sick as all that, she needs medicine quick.  Get out your dose.”

“The people is going to be reckoned with now,” declaimed Niles, banging his knotted fist against the boarding.

“You mean of course The People—­spelled with a capital T and a capital P, the same as you see it in those reform newspapers you’ve mentioned!  Now, boys, I want you all to listen to me just one moment.  You know I’m no hand to make speeches.  But just let’s talk this over.  It’ll take only a jiffy.  There’s a little time to kill while we’re getting this caucus started regular.  Now, some of these newspaper editors, who never get anywhere out of their offices except home to dinner, are writing a lot just now about THE PEOPLE—­in capital letters, understand!  Talking about ’em like as though they were a great force in politics—­always organized and ready to support reform.  Only needed to be called on.  Fellows like Ivus here, that read and read and never bump up next to real things outside, get to think that The People make up an angel band that’s all ready to march right up to the ballot-box and vote for just the right thing.  Only have to be called on!”

The voters were crowding closer and listening.  There was a half-smile on his face while he talked.  He was not patronizing.  But he took them into his confidence with simple directness.

“Boys, I don’t know where you’ll go to find that angel band!”

“The people of this State are gettin’ woke up enough to know!” cried a voice.  The man stepped forward.  It was Davis.  “I say to you again, Mr. Thornton, don’t put us all on the plane of Ivus Niles.”