In Seven Districts
Warrington 1,262
Donnelly 1,196
Roars. It was, going to be close. Between times local advertisers used the sheets, or there were pictures of presidents past and present, crowned heads (always greeted with jeers), funny pictures, or returns from other states.
In Nine Districts
Donnelly 1,821
Warrington 1,800
The crowds surged and billowed, and there was pandemonium.
The newspaper offices were having a busy time. This period proves the man; he is a newspaper man or he is not. There was a continuous coming and going of messengers, bringing in returns. The reporters and editors were in their shirt-sleeves, most of them collarless. Figures, figures, thousands of figures to sift and resift. A fire-bell rings. No one looks up save the fire reporter, and he is up and away at once. Filtering through the various noises is the maddening rattle of the telegraph instruments. Great drifts of waste-paper litter the floors. A sandwich man serves coffee and cigars, and there is an occasional bottle of beer. Everybody is writing, writing.
McQuade and his cohorts haunted the city room of the Times. Things did not look well at all. There were twelve more districts to hear from. Donnelly seemed to be the coolest man in that office.
Warrington started home at nine. Up to this time he had been indifferent, but it was impossible not to catch the spirit of this night. Win or lose, however, he wanted to be alone. So he went home, lighted the fire in his working-room, called his dog, and sat there dreaming.
Down town the clamor was increasing. The great throngs round the bulletins were gathering in force. Bonfires were flaring on corners.
In 15 Districts
Warrington 9,782
Donnelly 9,036
Close, terribly close. But those districts upon which the fight really depended had not yet turned up. The big labor vote had not been accounted for.