“Of course the Blake crowd swept everything at the election to-day?”
“Well, on the whole, their majority wasn’t as big as they’d counted on,” returned Old Hosie.
They rode on, Bruce sunk in his bitter, rebellious dejection. The carriage turned into the street that ran behind the Court House, then after rattling over the brick pavement for a few moments came to a pause. Hosie opened the door and stepped out.
“Hello! what are we stopping here for?” demanded Bruce. “This is the Court House. I thought you said we were going home?”
“So we are, so we are,” Old Hosie rapidly returned, an agitation in his manner that he could not wholly repress. “But first we’ve got to go into the Court House. Judge Kellog is waiting for us; there’s a little formality or two about your release we’ve got to settle with him. Come along.” And taking his arm Old Hosie hurried him into the Court House yard, allowing no time for questioning the plausibility of this explanation.
But suddenly Bruce stopped short.
“Look at that, won’t you!” he cried in amazement. “See how the front of the yard is lighted up, and see how it’s jammed with people! And there goes the band! What the dickens——”
At that moment some one on the outskirts of the crowd sighted the pair. “There’s Bruce!” he shouted.
Immediately there was an uproar. “Hurrah for Bruce! Hurrah for Bruce!” yelled the crowd, and began to rush to the rear of the yard, cheering as they ran.