The Ramrodders Part 6

"Take fifty of those men out behind there," his thumb jerked over his shoulder. "Give every man a shovel, and see that it doesn't get away from you. More smoke than fire, see!"

Mr. Cobb hastened away.

The duller comprehension of the chairman of the State Committee had not grasped the significance of the conversation.

"I'd let business wait till politics are finished, Thelismer," he chided.

"There is such a thing as running the two on a double track," returned Mr. Thornton, serene but non-committal. He whirled on Sylvester, his mien that of the commander-in-chief disposing his forces in the face of the enemy: "Talleyrand, you'll find fifty more quedaws out there after Cobb takes his pick. Take them down to Aunt Charette's and have her set out her best. And keep 'em well bunched and handy!"

He reached through an open window and filled the pockets of his crash suit with cigars from a box on a stand.

"Now, Luke," he invited, blandly, "let's go to a legislative district caucus. I haven't bothered to attend one for a good many years, but this one on the docket now gives signs of being interesting."

They walked down the dusty road toward the village. The State chairman was silent, with the air of a man pondering matters he does not understand; but the Hon. Thelismer Thornton beamed upon all he met.

Having a certainty to deal with, and a tangible enemy in sight, he seemed at ease. He felt like one who has recovered from dizzying blows and is on trail of the enemy who dealt them. He was himself again.

A few of those he met he greeted with especial cordiality. To some he gave cigars, not with the air of one seeking favor, not with the cheap generosity of the professional politician, but with the manner of one taking paternal interest in the conduct of a good child. It was an act that seemed to go with his handclasp and smile. He caught the State chairman looking at him rather doubtfully on one of these occasions.

"The folks understand this thing up here," he said. "When those chaps were young ones I used to give them a stick of candy. Now that they are grown up I hand 'em a cigar--got into the habit and can't stop. Or else I send 'em around to Aunt Charette's and have it put on my account.

Wicked performance, I suppose, and so the old ladies tell me. But I was born in the old rum-and-mola.s.ses times, Luke, when the liquor thing sort of run itself, and didn't give so many cheap snoozers a job on one side or the other."

"What's this Aunt Charette's you're talking about?" asked the chairman.

"An inst.i.tution!" The Duke enjoyed the puzzled stare the little man rolled up at him. "I reckon you think you've solved the liquor question in this prohibition State at that hotel bar of yours, Luke. I've solved it in my own way up here. Aunt Charette's is an inst.i.tution that I've founded. Come and look at it."

He led the way off the main street. There was a cottage at the end of a lane, tree-embowered, neat with fresh white paint and blinds of vivid green. An old man sat in an arm-chair under one of the trees. He wore gold earrings and an old-style coat with bra.s.s b.u.t.tons.

"Uncle Charette," explained the Duke, as they pa.s.sed him. "Simply a lawn ornament."

He led the way into the house without knocking.

"And this is Aunt Charette," he volunteered. In the centre of the spotless fore-room a ponderous woman rocked in her huge chair and knitted placidly. She was a picture of peaceful prosperity in black silk gown and gold-bowed spectacles.

"And here's the nature of Aunt Charette's inst.i.tution." He pointed to an open cupboard in which there were many bottles.

"Oh! your local liquor agency," hazarded the chairman.

"No, sir! Aunt Charette's own dispensary for the ills of the mind and fatigues of the body, and run according to my own notions. It beats your bar and white jackets, Luke, or that solemn farce of cheap liquors and robber prices of the State agency system. You come in here, if you are not a drunkard or a minor or a pauper--and Aunt Charette knows 'em all--and you go to the cupboard and get your drink, or you go out there in the store-room and get your bottle, and hand the change to Aunt Charette and walk away. No other rumshop tolerated in the section, and pocket peddlers run out of town on a rail! No treating, no foolishness, no fraud. Pays her fine twice a year without going to court, the same as you. And no extras!" He smiled at the chairman significantly.

"No extras, eh!" mused Mr. Presson, enviously. "You must have a different crowd of county officers than we've got down our way."

"Perhaps so," admitted the old man, and then he allowed himself a bit of a boast; "but the secret is, you see, this little inst.i.tution is something I've taken under my own wing."

It was an ill-starred moment for that honest boast. There came a thumping of feet in the hall. The man who burst in was flushed and sweating and excited.

"I'm glad you're here, Squire," he panted. "You're just in the nick o'

time. They're going to jump on the old lady."

"Who's going to jump?"

"High Sheriff Niles and his posse. They ain't more'n ten rods behind, jigger wagon and all."

The Duke of Fort Canibas stared a moment at the herald. Aunt Charette raised her eyes to her protector with the air of one secure under the wings of a patron saint, and went on knitting.

"Gad!" hissed the State chairman. "They certainly do mean you this time, Thelismer! Discrediting your pull in county politics an hour before your caucus! Some one is showing brains!"

Thornton did not answer.

"How in blazes have they pulled over the sheriff?" demanded Presson. But the old man merely stared at the door.

High Sheriff Niles entered at that moment. He stood on the threshold and scowled. He was a stocky man, who had been a butcher. His face was blotched by ruddiness resembling that of raw meat. Behind his c.o.c.kaded silk hat pressed the faces of his aids. The little yard was filled with men who peered in at the windows. A big truck wagon was creaking as its horses backed it to the door.

"What are you after here, Niles?" demanded Thornton. "After this stock of rum."

The Duke took another swing across the room, licked his lips, and set his extinguished cigar hard between his teeth. He was striving to control the wrath that came boiling up into his purple face and blazing eyes.

"There's the warrant!" The sheriff clapped the paper across his palm.

"Take the stuff, boys!" He waved his hand at the cupboard.

"But the most of it's in the cellar," shrilled the voice of a tattler in the hallway. "There's where she keeps it!"

"I don't need any advice," growled the sheriff. His men trudged into the room and made for the cupboard.

Now at last Aunt Charette understood that her stores were threatened.

She did not leave her chair. She fumbled frantically at her big bag that hung at her waist.

"Non, non!" she cried. "Yo' may not to'ch! I have pay! I have pay for nex' sax month."

She flapped a paper at the sheriff. He took it perfunctorily. "That's all right, old woman, but it hasn't got anything to do with my business here. I'm after your stuff on a warrant." He gave back the paper and started for the stairs leading to the cellar.

"But I have pay," she vociferated. "You tell them I have pay, M'sieu'

Thornton! You' told me if I have pay twice in ye'r I have de privilege--de privilege!"

The sheriff turned and grinned over his shoulder into the convulsed face of the Honorable Thelismer.

"There's a lot of bargains in politics, marm," he stated, dryly, "that takes more'n two to put 'em through when the pinch comes." He enjoyed the discomfiture that her artless confession brought to the Duke. The old man looked him up and down. That this Niles whom he himself had helped into office, who had been taking private toll from the liquor interests of the county as his predecessors had before him, a procedure condoned by the party leaders of whom the Honorable Thelismer was one--that this person should whirl on him in such fashion was a performance that Thornton could not yet fully understand. But there was the fact to contend with. A man he had helped to elevate was engaged in humiliating him in the frankly wondering gaze of his own community.

Those who peeped in at doors and windows were not, all of them, enemies.

There were friends who sympathized and were astonished. Their murmurings told that.

"You infernal Hereford bull!" roared Thornton; "don't you dare to slur me before my people. You're making this raid because I haven't b.u.t.tered you with ten-dollar bills to keep your hands off. You've taken 'em from all the other rumsellers--but this isn't one of your regular rumshops."

"That's right, Squire. Give it to him," muttered men at door and windows.

"We all know how the sheriff's office is run in this county." This statement was made by Talleyrand Sylvester, who came thrusting through the jam of the hall into the fore-room. "Squire," he whispered, hoa.r.s.ely, "I've brought down them quedaws as you told me to. They're outside. Say the word and we'll light on that old steer in the plug-hat!"

For an instant there was a glint in the old man's eyes which hinted that the word would be given. But the impulse was merely the first reckless one of retaliation. a.s.sault on law, even as represented by such an unworthy executive as he knew Niles to be, would make too wicked a story for slander to handle. Slander would be busy enough as it was.

He pushed the eager Sylvester to one side.