“I’m a-gwine to walk about until Saturday,” answered Stamps, with a grin. “I’m lookin’ arter my own claim—an’ Abner Linthicum. Arter Saturday I’ll lie up for a spell.”
“You’d better do it before Saturday,” Tom remarked as he left him.
Stamps stood and watched him walk away, and then turned into a drug-store and bought a cheap bottle of cough mixture. He was passing through the early stages of pneumonia, and was almost too weak to walk, but he had gone from place to place that morning like a machine. Linthicum had driven him. So long as he was employed in badgering other men he was not hanging about the agent’s office. Linthicum was not anxious that he should be seen there too frequently. After the payment of the five hundred dollars there would be no more to be wrung from him, and he could be dropped. He could be told that it was useless to push the claim further. Until the five hundred was secured, however, he must be kept busy. Consequently, he went from one man to the other until he could walk no more. Then he crawled back to his room and sent a note to Latimer.
“I cayn’t git the papers tel Saturday afternoon. Ef ye bring the money about seven ye ken hev them. ’Tain’t no use comin’ no earlier.”
Latimer found the communication when he returned to his rooms in the evening. He had been out on business connected with Baird’s final lecture. It was to be a special event, and was delivered in response to a general request. A building of larger dimensions than the hall previously used had been engaged. The demand for seats had been continuously increasing. The newspaper and social discussion of the prospects of the De Willoughby claim had added to the interest in Baird. This brilliant and popular man, this charming and gifted fellow, had felt such a generous desire to assist the claimants that he had gone South in the interest of their fortunes. He had been detained in Delisleville and could barely return in time to appear before his audience.
The enthusiasm and eagerness were immense. Every man who had not heard him felt he must hear him now; everyone who had heard him was moved by the wish to be of his audience again. Latimer had been besieged on all sides, and, after a hard day, had come home fagged and worn. But he was not worn only by business interviews, newspaper people, and applicants for seats which could not be obtained. He was worn by his thoughts of the past days, by his lack of Baird’s presence and his desire for his return. His influence was always a controlling and supporting one. Latimer felt less morbid and more sane when they were together.
This same night Senator Milner and Judge Rutherford called in company at the house near the Circle. When Uncle Matt opened the door for them Judge Rutherford seized his hand and shook it vigorously. The Judge was in the mood to shake hands with everybody.
“Uncle Matt,” he said, “we’re going to get it through, and in a week’s time you’ll be a rich man’s servant.”
Matt fled back to Miss Burford trembling with joy and excitement.
“Do ye think we is gwine t’rough, ma’am?” he said. “D’ye think we is? Seems like we was the Isrilites a-crossin’ the Red Sea, an’ the fust of us is jest steppin’ on de sho’. Lordy, Miss Burford, ma’am, I don’t know how I’se gwine to stan’ dat great day when we is th’ough, shore enuff. Wash‘n’ton city ain’t gwine be big enuff to hol’ me.”