Lydia stared up at him.  He looked very elegant to her in his frock coat and gray trousers.  She was filled with pride at the thought of how close and dear he was to her.  She wished that the folk about her realized that she and her shabby father were intimate with the hero of the evening.

The first part of the address interested Lydia very little.  It concerned the possibility of a new Post Office for Lake City and made numerous excursions into the matter of free trade.  It did not seem to Lydia that in spite of their attitude of tenseness, the people around her were much more interested than she.

Then of a sudden Levine launched his bolt.

“But after all,” he said, “my friends, what is free trade or a new Post Office to you or me?  Actually nothing, as far as our selfish and personal interests go.  And who is not selfish, who is not personal in his attitude toward his community and his country?  I frankly admit that I am.  I suspect that you are.

“Ladies and gentlemen, twenty miles north of this old and highly civilized city, lies a tract fifty miles square of primitive forest, inhabited by savages.  That tract of land is as beautiful as a dream of heaven.  Virgin pines tower to the heavens.  Little lakes lie hid like jewels on its bosoms.  Its soil is black.  Fur bearing animals frequent it now as they did a century ago.

“Friends, in this city of white men there is want and suffering for the necessities of life.  Twenty miles to the north lies plenty for every needy inhabitant of the town, lies a bit of loam and heaven-kissing pines for each and all.

“But, you say, they belong to the Indians!  Friends, they belong to a filthy, degenerate, lazy race of savages, who refuse to till the fields or cut the pines, who spend on whiskey the money allowed them by a benevolent government and live for the rest, like beasts of the field.

“Why, I ask you, should Indians be pampered and protected, while whites live only in the bitter air of competition?

“I am not mincing words to-night.  I do not talk of taking the lands from the Indians by crooked methods.  You all know the law.  An Indian may not sell the lands allotted to him.  I want you to send me to Congress to change that law.  I want the Indian to be able to sell his acreage.”

Levine stopped and bowed.  Pandemonium broke loose in the Square.  Clapping, hisses, cheers and cat-calls.  Lydia clung to her father’s arm while he began to struggle through the crowd.

“Well,” he said, as they reached the outer edge of the Square and headed for the trolley, “the battle is on.”

“But what will the Indians do, Daddy, if they sell their land?” asked Lydia.

“Do!  Why just what John intimated.  Get out and hustle for a living like the rest of us do.  Why not?”

Why not indeed!  “What did some of the people hiss for?” asked Lydia.