After ordering cigars for the party, Miller prepared to leave the place; pausing at the door and striking an attitude, he said: "Boys, I hope you will all attend the caucus to-morrow evening, using your prerogatives as free citizens to help sustain an honest man—the people's candidate—against the monopolies that are trying to overthrow the individual rights of every man here." Then taking the red fist of Paddy, he whispered: "Well done, old friend; you are a power, and the Senator knows it, and won't forget it either."
Seizing the staggering editor by the arm, Miller left the saloon. This was the last visit the pair made that night, every drinking-place in town having been previously visited, and all hands treated to whiskey and cigars, Miller privately slipping a ten or twenty dollar bill into each proprietor's hand.
Leaving "The Shades," Rawlings was assisted home by lesser political lights, Miller going directly to Senator Hamblin's residence, where several persons were in consultation, concluding arrangements for the morrow's caucus.
The day opened lively, Miller and aids being on duty bright and early, while Daley and his friends, greatly discouraged, were nevertheless determined not to give up the fight. Their cause was almost hopeless, for on entering the canvass they expected to overthrow Senator Hamblin by the support of the moral portion of the public. Daley, possessing no more virtue than his opponent, had mounted the reform hobby to ride into power, but he found that a majority of voters could not be won to his side. The fight having become bitter—a sort of a "dog in the manger" contest—Daley saw no way to win, so he determined to be satisfied with preventing Senator Hamblin's re-election. Copies of Sargent's statement had been prepared for circulation in every town, but, receiving no explanation of Miller's sudden appearance during the interview at Sargent's, Daley thought something had been done to counteract its effects, and as Sargent had mysteriously disappeared, his anxiety increased.
Cleverdale had seldom before been so excited. Politicians walked the streets, men were button-holed in stairways, offices, or "sample-rooms," and importuned to vote for one or another of the delegates. Daley, feeling the ground slip from under his feet, began working up his friends on the issue that he was a badly used man, and prepared a programme for a grand "bolt" at every caucus in the county where Hamblin delegates might be chosen.
Bolting is the salve to heal wounds caused by disappointed hopes of politicians. It is a prerogative that such men avail themselves of; yet being a "double-ender," the end placed against the shoulder often does the most damage.
Bitterness between opposite parties is nothing compared to the bad blood that exists between factions of the same party. It is a bad time for men to know the misdeeds of each other, for secrets are used after being enlarged and exaggerated to powerful dimensions. Such occasions furnish capital to the opposite party, and many campaigns are carried on by simply using against candidates ammunition that members of their own party have manufactured.
The Cleverdale drinking-saloons were in full blast, the bummers revelling in what to them seemed paradise. Bad whiskey and ice-cool lager were free to all, up to the hour the caucus was to be held. Long before seven P.M. the town hall was filled with men. Air impregnated with onions, garlic, old pipes, and poor whiskey, greeted the olfactory organs of those entering the room. To this was added the exudations from garments of factory hands and laborers, who had worked hard during the excessively hot day and not availed themselves of such cheap luxuries as soap and water. Miller, with aids and assistants well organized for the forthcoming fray, was present, while Daley, flanked by a coterie of followers, was active. Paddy Sullivan was on duty, moving about among the men whom he controlled. Suddenly the chairman of the Town Committee mounted the platform and pounded the table with his fist. The buzzing profanity and coarse jokes of the multitude ceased at once.
Reader, take a careful look across the sea of upturned faces, for here are the men who, choosing delegates, make the officers of the town, the officers of the county, the officers of the State, yes, the chief ruler of the nation. Sprinkled through the crowd are a few intellectual countenances; but observe the majority—coarse, uncultured, ignorant specimens of humanity—many faces stamped with the look of ruffian, while the drunken gibberish of others disgusts one with the thought that the elective franchise has been extended to all.
The chairman, again striking the table before him, said: