Hundreds partook of the delicious pig which had been roasted whole, that meat of which the poet wrote, “Send me, gods, a whole hog barbecued.”
Animals spitted on pointed sticks sputtered and fizzled over a hole in the ground filled with live coals. Mindful attendants shifted the appetizing viands from side to side, seasoning them with salt, pepper, vinegar or lemon as the case might require, and when set forth, offered a feast as close to primitive nature as the trees under which it was served.
CHAPTER VI.
Very soon after the feast was ended, Elliott saw John Holmes and a party of men coming toward him.
To a casual reader of the human countenance, it would be evident at a first glance that Holmes was a man of no small worldly knowledge, and as he now appeared with his companions one could discern that this superiority was recognized by them and that he held a certain position of authority, in fact that he was a man accustomed to rule rather than be ruled.
As he approached Elliott, he addressed him with a pleased smile, saying: “I am glad to see you here, Mr. Harding. Maybe you can help us out of a difficulty.”
“In what way?” asked Elliott, surprised.
“My political opponent was to have been here and we were to briefly address the people this afternoon, but, so far, he has failed to put in an appearance. The toiling folk have come here to-day, even laying aside important work in some instances, to hear a ‘speaking,’ and unless they hear some sort of an address (they are not particular about the subject) it will be hard to bring them together again when we need them more.
“I, as a representative of the committee, request you to lend us a helping hand. It is generally desired that you be the orator upon this occasion.”
“What! address this gathering offhand and wholly unprepared? It would blight my prospects forever with them,” laughed Elliott.