“Guess Heth’d like to make him a little present, under the circumstances.  I was goin’ through the barber shop,” Mr. Hartington continued, speaking to Jethro and ignoring the railroad president, “and I heard somebody whisperin’ my name.  Sound came out of that little shampoo closet; went in there and found Bije.  ‘Peleg,’ says he, right into my ear, ’tell Jethro it’s all right—­you understand.  We want Heth to go back—­break his heart if he didn’t—­you understand.  If I’d knowed last winter Jethro meant business, I wouldn’t hev’ helped Gus Flint out.  Tell Jethro he can have ‘em—­you know what I mean.’  Bije waited a little mite too long,” said the senator, who had given a very fair imitation of Mr. Bixby’s nasal voice and manner.

“Well, I’m d—­d!” ejaculated Mr. Balch, staring at Jethro.  “How did you work it?”

“Sent Chauncey through the deestrict,” said Mr. Hartington.

Mr. Chauncey Weed had, in truth, gone through a part of the congressional district of the Honorable Heth Sutton with a little leather bag.  Mr. Weed had been able to do some of his work (with the little leather bag) in the capital itself.  In this way Mr. Bixby’s regiment, Sutton was the honorary colonel, had been attacked in the rear and routed.  Here was to be a congressional convention that autumn, and a large part of Mr. Sutton’s district lay in the North Country, which, as we have seen, was loyal to Jethro to the back bone.  The district, too, was largely rural, and therefore anti-consolidation, and the inability of the Worthington forces to get their bill through had made it apparent that Jethro Bass was as powerful as ever.  Under these circumstances it had not been very difficult for a gentleman of Mr. Chauncey Weed’s powers of persuasion to induce various lieutenants in the district to agree to send delegates to the coming convention who would be conscientiously opposed to Mr. Sutton’s renomination:  hence the departure from the capital of Mr. Sutton; hence the generous offer of Mr. Bixby to put his regiment at the disposal of Mr. Bass—­free of charge.

The second factor on which victory hung (we can use the past tense now) was none other than his Excellency Alva Hopkins, governor of the state.  The bill would never get to his Excellency now—­so people said; would never get beyond that committee who had listened so patiently to the twelve weeks of argument.  These were only rumors, after all, for the rotunda never knows positively what goes on in high circles; but the rotunda does figuring, too, when at length the problem is reduced to a simple equation, with Bijah Bixby as x.  If it were true that Bijah had gone over to Jethro Bass, the Consolidation Bill was dead.

CHAPTER XVIII