A Spoil of Office Part 9

They found the room full of delegates, among whom there was going on a great deal of excited conversation. From a side room near the Judge's bench there issued, from time to time, messengers who came out among the general mob, and invited certain flattered and useful delegates to come in and meet with the central committee. There was plainly a division in the house.

"The rusty cusses are on their ears to-day," said Milton, "and there's going to be fun." His blue eyes were beaming with laughter, and his quick wit kept those who were within hearing on the broad grin.

"Goin' to down 'em t' day?" he asked of Councill.

"We're goin' t' try."

In one dishonest way or another the ring had kept its hold upon the county, notwithstanding all criticism, and now came to the struggle with smiling confidence. They secured the chairman by the ready-made quick vote, by acclamation for re-election. The president then appointed the committee upon credentials and upon nominations, and the work of the convention was opened.

The committee on nominations, in due course presented its slate as usual, but here the real battle began. Bradley suddenly found himself tense with interest. His ancestry must have been a race of orators and politicians, for the atmosphere of the convention roused him till it transformed him.

Here was the real thing. No mere debate, but a fight. There was battle in the air, now blue with smoke and rank with the reek of tobacco.

There was fight in the poise of the grizzled heads and rusty, yellow shoulders of the farmers who had now fallen into perfect silence. In looking over them one might have been reminded of a field of yellow-gray boulders.

Colonel Russell moved the election of the entire slate, as presented by the nominating committee, in whom, he said, the convention had the utmost confidence. Four or five farmers sprang to their feet instantly and Osmond Deering got the floor. When he began speaking the loafers in the gallery stopped their chewing in excess of interest. He was one of the most influential men in the county.

"Mr. President," he began in his mild way, "I don't want to seem captious about this matter, but I want to remind this convention that this is the eighth year that almost the same identical slate has been presented to the farmers of Rock County and pa.s.sed against our wishes.

It isn't right that it should pa.s.s again. It sha'n't pa.s.s without my protest." Applause. "This convention has been robbed of its right to nominate every year, and every year we've gone home feeling we've been made cat's paws of, for the benefit of a few citizens of Rock River. I protest against the slate. I claim the right to nominate my man. I don't intend to have a committee empowered to take away my rights to"--

The opposition raised a clamor, "Question! Question!" attempting to force a vote, but the old man, carried out of himself by his excitement, shook his broad flat hand in the air, and cried: "I have the floor, gentlemen, and I propose to keep it." The farmers applauded.

"I say to this convention, vote down this motion and set down on the old-fashioned slate-making committee business. It aint just, it aint right, and I protest against it."

He sat down to wild excitement, his supporters trying to speak, the opposition crying, "Question, Question." Several fiery speeches were made by leading grangers, but they were met by a cool, smooth persuasive speech from the chairman of the nominating committee, who argued that it was not to be supposed that this committee chosen by this convention would bring in a slate which would not be a credit and honor to the country. True, they were mainly from Rock River and Cedarville; but it must be remembered that the population of the county was mainly in these towns, and that no ticket could succeed which did not give a proper proportion of representation to these towns. These men could not be surpa.s.sed in business ability. They were old in their office, it was true, but the affairs of the county were pa.s.sing through a critical period in their history, and it was an old and well-tried saying: "Never swap horses in the midst of a stream," anyhow, he was content to leave the matter to the vote of this convention.

The vote carried the slate through by a small majority, leaving the farmers again stunned and helpless, and the further business of the convention was to restore peace and good-will, as far as possible among the members. It was amazing to Bradley to find how easily he could be swayed by the plausible speeches of the gentlemanly chairman of the nominating committee. It was a great lesson to him in the power of oratory. The slate was put through simply by the address of the chairman of the committee.

On the way out they met Councill and Jennings walking out with Chairman Russell, who had his hand on a shoulder of each, and was saying, with beautiful candor and joviality: "Well, we beat you again. It's all fair in politics, you know."

"Yes, but it's the last time," said Jennings, who refused to smile. "We can't give this the go-by."

"Oh, well, now, neighbor Jennings, you mustn't take it too hard; you know these men are good capable men."

"They are capable enough," put in Deering, "but we want a change."

"Then make it," laughed Russell, good-naturedly defiant.

"We will make it, bet y'r boots," said Amos Ridings.

"Let's see yeh," was Russell's parting word, delivered with a jaunty wave of his hand.

The farmers rode home full of smoldering wrath. They were in fighting humor, and only needed an organizer to become a dangerous force.

VII.

THE FARMERS OUST THE RING.

The following Sat.u.r.day Bradley, who was still at work with Milton, saw Amos Ridings gallop up and dismount at the gate, and call Jennings out, and during the next two hours, every time he looked up he saw them in deep discussion out by the pig pen. Part of the time Jennings faced Amos, who leaned against the fence and whittled a stick, and part of the time he talked to Jennings who leaned back against the fence on his elbows, and studied Amos whittling the rail. Mrs. Jennings at last called them all to dinner, and still the question remained apparently unsolved, though they changed the conversation to crops and the price of wheat.

"Brad, set down here and make a lot o' copies of this call. Milt, you help him."

The call read:

"A NEW DEAL. REFORM IN COUNTY POLITICS."

"A ma.s.s convention of the citizens of Rock County will be held at Rock Creek Grove on September 28th, for the purpose of nominating a people's ticket. All who favor reform in politics and rebel against the ring-rule of our county officers are invited to be present.

"Per order,

"AMOS RIDINGS, JOHN JENNINGS, WILLIAM COUNCILL,

"_People's Committee._"

"What's all this?" asked Milton of his father.

"We're going to have a convention of our own."

"We're on the war path," said Amos grimly. "We'll make them fellers think h.e.l.l's t' pay and no pitch hot."

After dinner Amos took a roll of the copies of the call and rode away to the north, and Jennings. .h.i.tched up his team and drove away to the south. Milton and Bradley went back to their corn-husking, feeling that they were "small petaters."

"They don't intend to let us into it, that's dead sure," said Milton.

"All the same, I know the scheme. They're going to bolt the convention, and there'll be fun in the air."

The county woke up the next morning to find its schoolhouse doors proclaiming a revolt of the farmers, and the new deal was the talk of the county. It was the grange that had made this revolt possible. This general intelligence and self-cognizance was the direct result of the work of the grange. It had brought the farmers together, and had made them acquainted with their own men, their own leaders, and when they came together a few days later, under the open sky, like the Saxon thanes of old, there was a spirit of rebellion in the air that made every man look his neighbor in the face with exultation.

It was a perfectly Democratic meeting. They came together that beautiful September day, under the great oaks, a witenagemote of serious, liberty-loving men, ready to follow wherever their leaders pointed.

Amos Ridings was the chairman, tall, grim-lipped and earnest-eyed. His curt speech carried the convention with him. His platform was a wagon box, and he stood there with his hat off, the sun falling upon his shock of close-clipped stiff hair, making a powerful and resolute figure with a touch of poetry in his face.

"Fellow-citizens, we've come together here to-day to organize to oust the ring that has held our county affairs in their hands so long. We can oust them if we'll stand together. If we don't, we can't. I believe we will stand together. The grange has learned us something. It's made us better acquainted with each other. An' the time has come f'r a fight. The first thing is a permanent chairman. Who'll y' have for chairman?"

"I nominate Amos Ridings."

"Second the motion," cried two voices in quick succession.

The chairman's grim visage did not relax. He had no time for false delicacy. "Are y' ready f'r the question?"

"Yes, yes," shouted the crowd.

"All in favor, say 'Aye'."

There was a vast shout of approval.

"Contrary minds, 'No!' It's a vote."