Norton took Taylor into his office, adjoining the courthouse, and threw himself into a chair, grumbling profanely. Outside they could see the crowd filing down the street, voicing its opinion of the startling proceeding.
“An election is an election,” they heard one man say—a Taylor sympathizer. “What difference does it make that Taylor’s name wasn’t printed? It’s a dawg-gone frame-up, that’s what it is!”
But Danforth’s adherents were not lacking; and there were arguments in loud, vigorous language among men who passed the door of the Eagle office.
“I could have printed the damned ballots, myself—if I had thought it necessary,” mourned Norton. “And now we’re skinned out of it!”
Norton’s disgust was complete and bitter; he had slid down in the chair, his chin on his chest, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his trousers.
Yet his dejection had not infected Taylor; the latter’s lips were curved in a faint smile, ironic and saturnine. It was plain to Norton that whatever humor there was in the situation was making its appeal to Taylor. The thought angered Norton, and he sat up, demanding sharply: “Well, what in hell are you going to do about it?”
Taylor grinned at the other. “Nothing, now,” he said. “We might appeal to the courts, but if the law specifies that a candidate’s name must be printed, the courts would sustain the governor. It looks to me, Norton, as though Carrington and Danforth have the cards stacked.”
Norton groaned and again slid down into his chair. He heard Taylor go out, but he did not change his position. He sat there with his eyes closed, profanely accusing himself, for he alone was to blame for the complete defeat that had descended upon his candidate; and he could not expect Taylor to fight a law which, though unjust and arbitrary, was the only law in the Territory.
Taylor had not gone far. He stepped into the door of the courthouse, to meet Carrington, who was coming out. Danforth and Judge Littlefield were talking animatedly in the rear of the room. They ceased talking when they saw Taylor, and faced toward him, looking at him wonderingly.
Carrington halted just inside the threshold of the doorway, and he, too, watched Taylor curiously, though there was a bland, sneering smile on his face.