The group before the fire turned toward him, attracted by the long silence which followed the exclamation. They saw a look of puzzlement on his face which gradually gave place to a broad grin.
“What's up?” asked somebody.
“By George,” he exclaimed, lowering the glass, “that's funny.” He raised the glass again and this time his shoulders shook.
“I didn't know anybody out on the links could be as funny as that,” one of the girls observed.
“He isn't on the links,” answered the man with the glass, “he's on the bridge. And the horse is turning round and going back.” With which singularly lucid preface, the young man told what he had seen of the General's victory at the Oakwood bridge.
It was about fifteen minutes later when Sporty appeared, dripping and mud bespattered, but kept warm by glowing fires of indignation, and vigorously demanded of the attendant the use of the telephone. At the sound of his voice one of the older men turned quickly and approached him with a word of greeting. “But what's the matter with you, man?” he added, noting the Senator's sorry condition.
“They're having a riot on the railroad,” answered Sporty. “Can I use your 'phone?”
“Sure,” answered the other. “Right this way,” and the two men crossed the hall and disappeared in the office. A few minutes later the man came back and rejoined the group.
“He's State Senator Jones, Sporty Jones, you know. He says they're having no end of a time over on the railroad. When I left him he seemed to be trying to telephone all over the State at once.”
“I've heard of him,” said Katherine, “but I've never met him. I wish you'd bring him here after he gets through telephoning.” And the man with some surprise said he would.