“It is certainly not your voice that I take down to the State House with me,” broke in their representative.  “Freight charges on it would more than eat up my mileage allowance.  Now let’s call off this bass-drum solo business.  Pull down your kite.  To business!” He snapped his fingers under Mr. Niles’s nose.

One of those in the throng who had not smiled stepped forth and spoke before the disconcerted “War Eagle” had recovered his voice.

“Since I am no orator, perhaps I can talk business to you, Representative Thornton.”  He was a grave, repressed, earnest man, whose sunburned face, bowed shoulders, work-stained hands, and general air proclaimed the farmer.  “We’ve come here on a matter of business, sir.”

“Led by a buck sheep and a human windmill, eh?”

“Mr. Niles’s notions of tactics are his own.  I’m sorry to see him handle this thing as he has.  It was coming up in the caucus this afternoon in the right way.”  Thornton was listening with interest, and the man went on with the boldness the humble often display after long and earnest pondering has made duty plain.  “When I saw Niles pass through the street and the crowd following, I was afraid that a matter that’s very serious to some of us would be turned into horseplay, and so I came along, too.  But I am not led by a buck sheep, Mr. Thornton, nor are those who believe with me.”

“Believe what?”

“That, after fifty years of honors at our hands, you should be willing to step aside.”

The Hon. Thelismer Thornton dragged up his huge figure into the stiffness of resentment.  He ran searching eyes over the faces before him.  All were grave now, for the sounding of the first note of revolt in a half century makes for gravity.  The Duke of Fort Canibas could not distinguish adherents from foes at that moment, when all faces were masked with deep attention.  His eyes came back to the stubborn spokesman.

“Walt Davis,” he said, “your grandfather put my name before the caucus that nominated me for the legislature fifty years ago, and your father and you have voted for me ever since.  You and every other voter in this district know that I do not intend to run again.  I have announced it.  What do you mean, then, by coming here in this fashion?”

“You have given out that you are going to make your grandson our next representative.”

“And this ain’t a dynasty!” roared Mr. Niles.

“Is there anything the matter with my grandson?” But Davis did not retreat before the bent brows of the district god.

“The trouble with him is, that he’s your grandson.”

“And what fault do you find with me after all these years?” There was wrathful wonderment in the tone.

“If you’re going to retire from office,” returned Mr. Davis, doggedly, “there’s no need of raking the thing over to make trouble and hard feelings.  I’ve voted for you, like my folks did before me.  You’re welcome to all those votes, Representative Thornton, but neither you nor your grandson is going to get any more.  And as I say, so say many others in this district.”