Will was a little startled, but he steadied himself soon and said again:—
"That's the same thing. You were all the same crowd."
"No; that wasn't so," I remonstrated, "and you ought to know it."
The men in the room had stopped their talking and were craning their heads to look at us. Will and I eyed each other for a time; then I turned to the crowd and made the first and last real public speech of my life.
"That's all a d——d lie about the beef we sold the Government. I know it because I inspected it myself. And I gave my own money, too, to support men at the front, and that is more than any of you fellows ever did. And the rest of the talk these gentlemen have been giving you is just about as wrong, too. Let me tell you one thing: if you folks were honest, if you didn't send rascals to Springfield and to Congress, if you weren't ready to take a dollar and club a man if he didn't hand it over, there wouldn't be this bribery business. I know it, because I've got the club over and over again. And one thing more, it's no more use for you and I to kick about the men who put their money into trusts than it would be to try to swallow all the water in the lake. That's the way business has got to be done nowadays, and if it weren't done you folks would starve, and your wives and children would starve—"
"Who are you?" some began to shout, interrupting me.
"I am E.V. Harrington!" I called back.
Then they hooted: "Hello, Senator. Put him out!"
I turned toward Will, and called to him:—
"Come on! I want to have a word with you, Will."