The lobby was full, and rather dirty, since the supply of spittoons was so far behind the demand.  Like the firmament, it was divided into little bodies which revolved about larger bodies.  But there lacked not here supporters of the Little Giant, and discreet farmers of influence in their own counties who waited to hear the afternoon’s debate before deciding.  These and others did not hesitate to tell of the magnificence of the Little Giant’s torchlight procession the previous evening.  Every Dred-Scottite had carried a torch, and many transparencies, so that the very glory of it had turned night into day.  The Chief Lictor had distributed these torches with an unheard-of liberality.  But there lacked not detractors who swore that John Dibble and other Lincolnites had applied for torches for the mere pleasure of carrying them.  Since dawn the delegations had been heralded from the house-tops, and wagered on while they were yet as worms far out or the prairie.  All the morning these continued to came in, and form in line to march past their particular candidate.  The second great event of the day was the event of the special over the Galena roar, of sixteen cars and more than a thousand pairs of sovereign lungs.  With military precision they repaired to the Brewster House, and ahead of then a banner was flung:  “Winnebago County for the Tall Sucker.”  And the Tall Sucker was on the steps to receive them.

But Mr. Douglas, who had arrived the evening before to the booming of two and thirty guns, had his banners end his bunting, too.  The neighborhood of Freeport was stronghold of Northern Democrats, ardent supporters of the Little Giant if once they could believe that he did not intend to betray them.

Stephen felt in his bones the coming of a struggle, and was thrilled.  Once he smiled at the thought that he had become an active partisan—­nay, a worshipper—­of the uncouth Lincoln.  Terrible suspicion for a Bostonian,—­had he been carried away?  Was his hero, after all, a homespun demagogue?  Had he been wise in deciding before he had taught a glimpse of the accomplished Douglas, whose name end fame filled the land?  Stephen did not waver in his allegiance.  But in his heart there lurked a fear of the sophisticated Judge and Senator and man of the world whom he had not yet seen.  In his notebook he had made a, copy of the Question, and young Mr. Hill discovered him pondering in a corner of the lobby at dinnertime.  After dinner they went together to their candidate’s room.  They found the doors open and the place packed, and there was Mr. Lincoln’s very tall hat towering above those of the other politicians pressed around him.  Mr. Lincoln took three strides in Stephen’s direction and seized him by the shoulder.

“Why, Steve,” said he, “I thought you had got away again.”  Turning to a big burly man with a good-natures face, who was standing by, he added.  “Jim, I want you to look out for this young man.  Get him a seat on the stands where he can hear.”