“Why,” said Mr. Jenney, laying his hand on Austen's shoulder, “I callate he is. Austen's broke in more'n one of my colts afore he went West and shot that feller. He's as good a judge of horse-flesh as any man in this part of the State. Hear Tom Gaylord and the boys wanted him to be State senator.”
“Why didn't you accept, Mr. Vane?”
“Because I don't think the boys could have elected me,” answered Austen, laughing.
“He's as popular a man as there is in the county,” declared Mr. Jenney. “He was a mite wild as a boy, but sence he's sobered down and won that case against the railrud, he could get any office he'd a mind to. He's always adoin' little things for folks, Austen is.”
“Did—did that case against the railroad make him so popular?” asked Victoria, glancing at Austen's broad back—for he had made his escape with the cake.
“I guess it helped considerable,” Mr. Jenney admitted.
“Why?” asked Victoria.
“Well, it was a fearless thing to do—plumb against his own interests with old Hilary Vane. Austen's a bright lawyer, and I have heard it said he was in line for his father's place as counsel.”
“Do—do people dislike the railroad?”
Mr. Jenney rubbed his beard thoughtfully. He began to wonder who this young woman was, and a racial caution seized him.