Get ’em pledged!  Pledged to what?  Mr. Tooting evidently knew, for he wasted no precious moments in asking questions.

There is no time at this place to go into the feelings of Mr. Tom Gaylord the younger when he learned that his bill had passed the House.  He, too, meeting Mr. Crewe in the square, took the opportunity to express his gratitude to the member from Leith.

“Come in on Friday afternoon, Gaylord,” answered Mr. Crewe.  “I’ve got several things to talk to you about.  Your general acquaintance around the State will be useful, and there must be men you know of in the lumber sections who can help us considerably.”

“Help us?” repeated young Tom, in same surprise.

“Certainly,” replied Mr. Crewe; “you don’t think we’re going to drop the fight here, do you?  We’ve got to put a stop in this State to political domination by a railroad, and as long as there doesn’t seem to be anyone else to take hold, I’m going to.  Your bill’s a good bill, and we’ll pass it next session.”

Young Tom regarded Mr. Crewe with a frank stare.

“I’m going up to the Pingsquit Valley on Friday,” he answered.

“Then you’d better come up to Leith to see me as soon as you get back,” said Mr. Crewe.  “These things can’t wait, and have to be dealt with practically.”

Young Tom had not been the virtual head of the Gaylord Company for some years without gaining a little knowledge of politics and humanity.  The invitation to Leith he valued, of course, but he felt that it would not do to accept it with too much ardour.  He was, he said, a very busy man.

“That’s the trouble with most people,” declared Mr. Crewe; “they won’t take the time to bother about politics, and then they complain when things don’t go right.  Now I’m givin’ my time to it, when I’ve got other large interests to attend to.”

On his way back to the Pelican, young Tom halted several times reflectively, as certain points in this conversation which he seemed to have missed at the time—­came back to him.  His gratitude to Mr. Crewe as a public benefactor was profound, of course; but young Tom’s sense of humour was peculiar, and he laughed more than once, out loud, at nothing at all.  Then he became grave again, and went into the hotel and wrote a long letter, which he addressed to Mr. Austen Vane.

And now, before this chapter which contains these memorable events is closed, one more strange and significant fact is to be chronicled.  On the evening of the day which saw Mr. Crewe triumphantly leading the insurgent forces to victory, that gentleman sent his private secretary to the office of the State Tribune to leave an order for fifty copies of the paper to be delivered in the morning.  Morning came, and the fifty copies, and Mr. Crewe’s personal copy in addition, were handed to him by the faithful Waters when he entered his dining room at an early hour.  Life is full of disillusions.  Could this be the State Tribune he held in his hand?  The State Tribune of Mr. Peter Pardriff, who had stood so staunchly for Mr. Crewe and better things?  Who had hitherto held the words of the Leith statesman in such golden estimate as to curtail advertising columns when it was necessary to print them for the public good?