“No crowned heads, no rings in the noses of the people,” declared Niles, yanking the cord and producing a bleat of fury from his emblematic captive.

“I don’t stand for Niles and his monkey business,” protested Davis.  “I’m on a different platform.  All is, we propose to be represented from now on; not mis-represented!”

Something like stupefaction succeeded the anger in the countenance of the Duke of Fort Canibas.  Again he made careful scrutiny of the faces of his constituents.  Then he turned his back on them and climbed up the twisted roots to his chair, sat down, faced them, caught his breath, and ejaculated, “Well, I’ll be eternally d——­d!”

He studied their faces for some time.  But he was too good a politician to put much value on those human documents upraised to him.  There were grins, subtle or humorous.  There were a few scowls.  One or two, tittering while they did it, urged the “War Eagle” on to fresh tirade.  It was a mob that hardly knew its own mind, that was plain.  But revolt was there.  He felt it.  It was one of those queer rebellions, starting with a joke for an excuse, but ready to settle into something serious.  It was not so much hostility that he saw at that moment as something more dangerous—­lack of respect.

“Look here, boys, I’ve been hearing that some of those cheap suckers from down State have been sneaking around this district.  But I’ve never insulted you by believing you took any stock in that kind of cattle.  We’re neighbors here together.  What’s the matter with me?  Out with your real grouch!”

“Look at this emblem I’ve brought,” began Niles, oracularly, but Thornton was no longer in the mood that humored cranks.  He jumped down, yanked the cord away from Niles, kicked the sheep and sent it scampering off with frightened bleats.

“If you fellows want an emblem, there’s one,” declared their indignant leader.  “I’m all right for a joke—­but the joke has got to stop when it has gone far enough.”

He had sobered them.  His disgusted glance swept their faces, and grins were gone.  He went among them.

“Get around me, boys,” he invited.  “This isn’t any stump speech.  I’m going to talk business.”

They did crowd around him, most of them, but Mr. Niles was still intractable.  “You’re right, it was your emblem just now!  It has always been a kick from you and the rest of the high and mighty ones when you didn’t want our wool.”

“You’re an infernal old liar and meddler, torched on by some one else!” retorted the Duke.  “Now, boys, I see into this thing better than you do.  Any time when I haven’t used my district right, when I’ve betrayed you, or my word of advice isn’t worth anything, I’ll step out—­and it won’t need any bee of this kind to come around and serve notice on me.  But I understand just what this shivaree means.  Sneaks have come in here and lied behind my back and fooled some of you.  Fools need to be saved from themselves.  There are men in this State who would peel to their political shirts if they could lick Thelismer Thornton in his own district just now when the legislative caucuses are beginning.  But I won’t let you be fooled that way!”