“I’m for the people!” shouted Spinney.  “The old wagon needs a new wheel-horse.  I don’t insist I’m the right one—­or the only one.  I merely say I’m willing to take hold and haul, if the people want me to.  I offer myself, if no better one is found.”

The crowd applauded that sentiment generously.

Thornton did not lose his amiability—­his tolerant yet irritating good-humor.

“Speaking of wheel-horses, Arba—­a man up my way started out to buy a horse the other day.  He found a black one that suited—­but the man who owned that horse was mighty honest, as most of my constituents are.  ’You don’t want him,’ he told the man.  ‘He’s too blamed slow.’  ’That doesn’t hurt him a bit for me,’ said the buyer.  ’I want him to mate another black horse to haul my hearse.  I’m an undertaker!’ ’Then you certainly don’t want him,’ insisted the fellow.  ’The living can wait, but the dead have got to be buried.’”

The Duke had made his way out of the crowd before the laughter ceased.

“Apply it to suit, Arba!” he called over his shoulder.

Arm in arm with his grandson, the Duke traversed the lobby and went up the broad stairs to the State Committee headquarters—­double parlors on the floor above.  The men who were sitting in the main parlor saluted the old man in the offhand manner of intimates.  He drew his grandson into the privacy of the rear room.

“Now, my boy, get your hat, take a carriage and meet General Waymouth at the nine o’clock train.  I’ve had him on the telephone.  He’s coming here to-night.  Between us, he’s grown lukewarm on our proposition.  I want you to talk with him after you meet him.  Take your time on the way from the station.”

“I’m a pretty poor agent to send on such a job as that,” said Harlan, deprecatingly.

“You’re just the one,” insisted the old man.  “Don’t you suppose I knew what I was doing when I took you with me that night?  Talk for the young men of this State!  He’s tired of politics and politicians.  I am, myself, sometimes.  He’s got to dwelling on the political side.  Get it out of his mind.  Thank God, you don’t know enough politics to talk it to him!  You can talk from your heart, boy.  The younger generation in this State does want a change.  I realize it.  But that change has got to be tempered with political wisdom.  It must be managed through politics.  I’ll attend to that part.  It’s your task to make Vard Waymouth see that he ought to stand.  You can do it.  Begin with him where you left off.”

Harlan hesitated.

“Well?” inquired the Duke, a bit petulantly.

“I’ve been used to talking straight out to you, grandfather.  I’m willing to help as far as it’s in my poor power.  But I want you to tell me that I’m not being used as a decoy-duck in this thing.”

“I reckon you’d better explain that, son,” said the Duke, stiffly.

“It’s your own fault that I’m saying a word about it.  But you did some talking after we came away from General Waymouth’s house.  It wasn’t so much what you said; it was what you intimated.  I believe in General Waymouth.  But if I’m any judge of what has been framed up, he isn’t going to be allowed to do what he wants to do.”