The Trail Horde

by Charles Alden Seltzer

Hatfield's smile came out—it was sarcastic.

"The wise law-makers of the state, who gave the railroad company a franchise, neglected to provide a punitive clause. There isn't a tooth in the law—I've looked it over from one end to the other, and so has the attorney-general. This office is helpless, Lawler. I would advise you to accept the offer of your resident buyer. It may be that those fellows have an agreement with the railroad company, but we haven't any evidence, and without evidence we couldn't do anything, even if there were teeth in the law."

Lawler smiled and went out. As the door closed behind him Hatfield sank back into his chair and chuckled gleefully.

"Swallowed it!" he said in an undertone; "swallowed it whole. And that's the guy I was most afraid of!"

Lawler walked down the big corridor, across the rotunda, and into another corridor to the door of the governor's office. As he passed through the rotunda he was aware that several persons congregated there watched him curiously; and he heard one of them say, guardedly:

"That's Kane Lawler, of Wolf River. He'd have been governor, right now, if he'd said the word last fall. Biggest man in the state!"

There was truth in the man's words, though Lawler reddened when he heard them. Three times in the days preceding the convention which had nominated Perry Haughton, the present governor, delegations from various sections of the state had visited Lawler at the Circle L, endeavoring to prevail upon him to accept the nomination; and one day the editor of the most important newspaper in the capital had journeyed to the Circle L, to add his voice to the argument advanced by the delegations.

But Lawler had refused, because previously to their visits he had given his word to York Falkner. And he had championed Falkner's candidacy with such energy and enthusiasm that in the end—on the day of the convention—his name was better known than that of his candidate. And at the last minute the convention was in danger of stampeding to him, threatening to nominate him despite his protests. He had been forced to tell them plainly that he would not serve, if nominated and elected, because he had pledged his support to Falkner. And Falkner, at home in a distant county while the convention was in session, remained silent, refusing to answer the frantic requests that he withdraw in favor of Lawler. That attitude had defeated Falkner, as his loyalty to his friend had increased his popularity.

Now, pausing before the door of the governor's office, Lawler was aware of the completeness of the sacrifice he had made for Falkner. His face paled, his eyes glowed, and a thrill ran over him. At this moment—if he had not made the sacrifice—he might have been sitting in the governor's office, listening to Caldwell, or Sigmund, or others from his own section,—perhaps from other sections of the state—advising them, seeking to help them. For one thing, Morgan Hatfield would not have been his railroad commissioner!

As it was, he was going to enter the governor's office as a mere petitioner, not sure of his reception—for Perry Haughton had beaten Falkner, and owed Lawler nothing. Indeed, after his election, Haughton had referred sarcastically to Lawler.