The Ramrodders Part 24

SITTING IN FOR THE DEAL

On the second floor of the hotel Thelismer Thornton was pacing the corridor, hands behind his back, puffing his cigar. He was paying no heed to the men who were streaming past him in both directions, going and coming from the rooms of the candidates. Everett and Spinney were in their suites, extending hospitality with questionable cigars and ice-water.

Delegates were flocking up from the hotel bar in squads. They were meeting other delegates, forming new combinations which offered fresh opportunities for "setting 'em up," and after paying their respects were hustling back downstairs again to interview the gentlemen in white jackets.

Out from open transoms over the doors of sleeping-rooms floated cigar smoke and voices. There were boys running with ice-water and gla.s.ses to the noisiest rooms. From some of these rooms the familiar baccha.n.a.lian songs were resounding even at that early hour of the evening. The chorus of "We're here because we're here" mingled with the words of that reminiscent old carol, "When we fit with Gineral Grant, by gosh."

The Duke, towering, abstracted, swaying along ponderously, close to the wall of the corridor, eyes on the head of the stairway, was as indifferent to the uproar as he was to those who pa.s.sed.

A man who was somewhat flushed and a bit uncertain in his gait came out of the State Committee headquarters. He planted himself in front of Thornton.

"Thelismer," he said, familiarly, "I've been trying to get something out of Luke. He won't say. Now what do you know about it? Is the party going to be honest? Are we going to get that resubmission plank in the platform this year?"

"They haven't asked me to write the platform, Phon."

"I tell you, the people want a chance to vote on this prohibitory question. It's been stuck into our const.i.tution where the people can't get at it. I ain't arguing high license, but I tell you the people want a chance to vote on the question, and the Democrats are going to offer 'em a chance."

"That's a Democratic privilege," said the Duke, calmly, preparing to push past his interlocutor. "The Republican party stands for prohibition, and hasn't had any trouble in rounding up the votes for the last twenty-five years."

But the disputant caught hold of him when he started away.

"Look here, Thelismer, you ain't so much of a hypocrite as the most of 'em. Why don't you help us make a break in this thing? d.a.m.n it, let's be decent about it! Rum enough running in that bar-room downstairs to drive the turbine-wheel in my woollen-mill! Half the delegates to this convention with a drink aboard, and a third of 'em pretty well slewed! I am myself. But I'm honest about it. They're drinking rum in about every room in this hotel. And they're going into convention to-morrow and nail that prohibitory plank into the platform with spikes. By Judas, I'm honest in my _business_; now I want to have a chance to be honest in my _politics_!"

The Duke gazed down on him good-humoredly. He was accustomed to overlook the little delinquencies of his fellows on such festal occasions as State Conventions.

"You're asking too much out of party politics, Phon," he declared.

"There are drawbacks to all the best things; seeing that the National platform won't let you vote as you think, you can hardly ask the State platform to be perfect and let you vote as you drink."

But his friend was not in the mood for jovial rallying.

"By the G.o.ds, if you old bucks that have been running things ain't going to give us a show--if we ain't going to get our rights from our own party--I know what I can do! I can vote the Democratic ticket, and I know of a lot more that will. You're asleep, you managers!"

"Well, Phon, when you vote as you drink--voting the Democratic ticket--you'll vote for a popocratic tax on corporations that will make your woollen-mill look sick. And that's only _one_ thing!"

"I know what I will do," insisted the rebel.

The Duke took him by his two shoulders.

"So do I," he returned. "You'll have a bath, a shave, four hot towels, and a big bromo-seltzer--all in the morning, and you'll go into the State Convention and stick by the party, just as you always have done.

But as for to-night--why, Phon, I wouldn't be surprised to see you pledge yourself to Arba Spinney."

He gayly shoved the man to one side and went on.

"Well, even Fog-horn is getting more votes corralled than you old blind mules realize!" shouted the other after him. "This party is sick! You're going to find it out, too!"

"Sick it is, but I reckon here's the doctor," muttered the old man, hurrying toward the top of the stairs.

General Waymouth had appeared there, Harlan close behind him.

The Duke forestalled those who hastened to greet the veteran. Taking his arm, he marched him promptly across the corridor and into the rear room of State Committee headquarters. He locked the door behind them after Harlan had entered.

"I don't think we're exactly ready for that public reception yet," he observed with a chuckle, turning from the door. He glanced at the General, anxious and keen in his scrutiny.

"Vard!" he cried, heartily, noting the resolution in the countenance, the light in the old soldier's eyes, "you're looking better, here, than you sounded over the telephone a few hours ago. You're going to stand--of _course_ you're going to stand!"

"I'll take the nomination, Thelismer--that is, providing you want me to stand as a candidate who will go into office without a single string hitched to him."

"I guess the party isn't running into any desperate chances, Vard, with you in the big chair. Sit down now and take it easy. I'll call Luke in.

After we've had our talk with him, we'll begin to enlarge our circle a little--it's a pretty close combination up to now."

The porter at the door summoned the chairman of the State Committee.

"The Senator is just in from Was.h.i.+ngton," he announced, after his enthusiastic greeting of the General. "I took him right up to Room 40, where the Committee on Resolutions is at work. He wanted to attend to that first. Then he'll be down here."

The chairman was referring to the United States Senator who would, by party custom, preside at the convention next day for the purpose of tinkering his own fences.

"Is Senator Pownal dictating the platform?" inquired the General, rather icily.

"He's got a few little ideas of his own he wants to work in," affably explained the chairman. "Nothing drastic. A little endors.e.m.e.nt of some things he's gunning for. It'll be all safe and sane. We backed those resubmission fellows out of the room."

"By-the-way, keep a sharp eye out for those chaps, Luke," counselled the Duke. "I've been hearing around the hotel this evening that they're going to introduce a resubmission plank from the floor to-morrow."

"I'll rush an early vote in the convention, providing that all resolutions shall be presented to the Committee on Resolutions without argument," stated the chairman. "All that foolishness can be killed right in the committee-room. We've got trouble enough on hand in the party this year without letting the convention express itself on the liquor question, even if the split only amounts to a sliver."

He pulled his chair to the table, spread some papers there, and commanded attention by tapping his eyegla.s.ses on the sheets.

"Here's the programme for the routine: Called to order at ten-thirty by chairman of State Committee. Call read by secretary. On motion of Davis Bolton, of Hollis, proceed to effect temporary organization--Senator Walker Pownal, chairman--and so forth. On motion of Parker Blake, of Jay, ten minutes' recess declared for county delegations to choose vice-president, member of State Committee, and member of the Committee on Resolutions."

As he read on, Harlan opened his eyes as well as his ears. The convention of the morrow had been blocked out to the last detail. Every motion that was to be made, every step that was to be taken, had its man a.s.signed to it--and that man had already been notified and tagged.

Fifteen hundred men, a.s.sembled presumably as free and independent agents to take counsel for the good of the party, were here bound to the narrowest routine, with programme cut and dried to such an extent that one who dared to lift his voice to interrupt would be considered an interloper. And he knew that even then, from what Presson had said, the little band of the select were formulating the resolutions that the committee would take in hand as delivered--accepting that platform as the dictum of the party, and free speech on the convention floor denied.

"Now," said the chairman, at the close, "let's fill in the rest, and finish this thing now. Spinney's name will be presented by Watson, of his county, and seconded by three other counties. I'm limiting the seconding speeches to three. And you know the men Everett has picked out! Of course, I've left the--the big matter in your own hands, Thelismer." Presson glanced over his gla.s.ses at General Waymouth with a significant smile. "Have you decided? Are you going to let both the other candidates be put in nomination before you spring the trap?"

"Sure!" snapped Thornton. "I want that convention to realize how little good can be said of either of them. By the time that gets through those fifteen hundred skulls, they'll be in a state of mind to appreciate the man of the hour!"

General Waymouth was leaning back in his deep chair, his head on the rest, his eyes upturned to the ceiling, fingers tapping the chair's arm.

He was offering no comment.

"Vard," said the Duke, "we've got to let a few more into the case now.

Overnight is short notice, at that, for a man to get his nominating speech ready. But we're safe. It won't be the speech that will take that convention off its feet. It'll be your name--and the fact that you're willing to stand. Who've you got in mind?"

"No one," replied the General, briefly.

"Any choice?"

"No."