Landers saw further: not a single man, but a type; the concrete illustration of a vague ideal he had long known. He realized as the others did not, that the speaker was merely practising on them––training, as the man himself would have said. When Landers was critically conscious, he was not deceived; yet, with this knowledge, at times he forgot and moved along with the speaker, unconsciously.
It was all deliriously intoxicating to the farmer––this first understanding glimpse of things he had before merely dreamed of––and he waited exultantly for those brief moments when he felt, sympathetically with the speaker, the keen joy of mastery in perfect art; that joy 29 beside which no other of earth can compare, the compelling magnetism which carries another’s mind irresistibly along with one’s own.
The speaker finished and sat down wearily, and almost simultaneously the hairy faces left the windows. The shuffling of feet and the murmur of rough voices once more sounded through the room; again the odor of vile tobacco filled the air. Several of the older men gathered around the speaker, in turn holding his hand in a relentless grip while they struggled bravely for words to express the broadest of compliments. Young boys stood wide-eyed under their fathers’ arms and looked at the college man steadily, like young calves.
The reaction was on the slender young speaker, and though the experience was new, he shook hands wearily. In spite of himself a shade of disgust crept into his face. He was not bidding for these farmers’ votes, and the big sweaty men were foully odorous. He worked his way steadily out into the open air.
Landers, in response to a motive he made no attempt to explain even to himself, walked over and touched the chairman on the shoulder. 30
“’Evening, Ross,” he greeted perfunctorily. “Pretty good talk, wasn’t it?” Without waiting for a reply he went on, “Suppose you’re not hankering for a drive back to town to-night? I’ll see that”––a swift nod toward the departing group––“he gets back home, if you wish.”
Ross looked up in pleased surprise. He was tired and sleepy and only too glad to accept the suggestion.
“Thank you, Guy,” he answered gratefully. “I’ll do as much for you some time.”
Landers waited silently until the last eulogist had lingeringly departed, leaving the bewildered speaker gazing about for the chairman.
“I’m to take you to town,” said Landers, simply, as he led the way toward his wagon. He then added, as an afterthought: “If you’re tired and prefer, you may stay with me to-night.”