The Candidate: A Political Romance

by Joseph A. Altsheler

"You must not speak in this way to me again," she said, at last, although her tone was not sad, only firm, "because it is not right. I knew that it was wrong, even while you were saying it, but I could not stop you. You know you cannot change what is fixed, and I must marry Mr. Plummer."

Harley laughed joyously. Later he did not know why he was so confident then, but the air of the mountains and a new fire, too, were sparkling in his veins, and at that moment he had no doubts.

"You will not marry Mr. Plummer," he repeated, with energy, "and it is not you that will break the promise. It is he that shall give it back to you."

For the time she felt his faith, and her face glowed, but her courage left her when the "King," who had been ahead with the candidate, dropped back towards the rear and joined them.

"King" Plummer, too, had begun that return journey with feelings of exhilaration. Everything in the trip from Crow's Wing appealed to him, because it was so thoroughly in consonance with his early life in the mountains. The adventure in Queen City had stirred his blood, and around him were familiar things. He, too, wished that an organized band of bandits would come, because in his younger days he had helped to hunt down some of the worst men in the mountains, and the old fighting blood mounted as high as ever in his veins.

He had seen that Sylvia was entirely recovered from the alarms of the night at Queen City, and then, because he felt that it was his duty, and because there was a keen zest in it, too, he rode on ahead with the candidate, to whom he pointed out dim blue peaks that he knew, and to whom he laid down the proposition that those mountains were full of minerals, and would one day prove a source of illimitable wealth to the nation.

The crispness of the morning, the vast expanse of mountain, and the feeling of deep, full life made the "King's" blood tingle. His years of hardship, danger, and joy—and he had enjoyed his life greatly—swept before him, and he laughed under his breath; life was still very good. After a while the thought of Sylvia came to him, and he smiled again, because Sylvia was truly good to look upon. He rode back towards her, and then he received a blow—a blow square in the face, and dealt heavily.

"King" Plummer's was not a mind trained to look upon the more delicate shades of life—he dealt rather with the obvious; but when he saw Harley and Sylvia he knew. Mrs. Grayson's warning, which at first he had only half accepted, had come true, and it had come quickly. His instant impulse was that of the primitive man to raise his fist and strike down this foolish, this presumptuous youth who had dared to cross the path of him, the King of the Mountains; but he did not raise it, because "King" Plummer was a gentleman; instead, he strove to conceal the fact that he was breathing hard and deep, and he spoke to them in a tone that he sought to render careless, but which really had an unnatural sound. Sylvia gave him a glance that was half fear, and had the "King" taken notice it would have filled him with deep pain, but Harley, who alone of the three retained his self-possession, spoke lightly of passing things. The feeling of exulting strength was not yet gone from him; in the presence of this man of great achievement he was not afraid, and, moreover, the desire to protect Sylvia, to turn attention from her, was strong within him.

For these reasons Harley carried the whole burden of the talk, and carried it well. Neither of the others wished to interrupt him; Sylvia being full of these new emotions, half joy and half fear, that agitated her, and Mr. Plummer trying to evolve from chaos a way to act.

Although the "King" had suppressed the muscular manifestation, he was none the less burned by internal fire. Sylvia was his: it was he who had found her in the mountains; it was he who had given her the years of care and tenderness, and by every right, including that of promise, she belonged to him. Nor was he one to give her up for a fancy. He had seen the look of love on her face when she spoke to Harley, but she was only a girl—from the crest of his years the "King" thought that he saw the truth, and knew it—and as soon as this campaign was over, and the Eastern youth had disappeared, she would forget him.