"Lord, David," groaned Cap Cantrell, "they're turning loose kegs of
boodle and barrels of booze--we'll never beat 'em in the world! They've
got this city tied up and thrown to the dogs! What's the use of--"
"David," exclaimed the major excitedly, "we're in for a rally, and look
at them!"
Down the street they came, the news kiddies, a hundred strong, led by
Phoebe's freckle-faced red-headed devil whose mouth stretched from ear to
ear with a grin. They carried huge poster banners and their inscriptions
were in a language of their own, emblazoned in ink-pot script.
"I LOVE MY DAVE--BUT JUMP!" meant much to them but failed to elucidate
the fact that they were referring to the gift of a flatboat, canvased for
a swimming booth which David had had moored at the foot of the bridge
during the dog days of the previous summer so that they might have a
joyous dip in the river between editions. He had gone down himself
occasionally for a frolic with them and "Jump!" had been the signal
for the push-off of any timid diver.
He shouted with glee when he read the skit--he was taking his high dive
in life.
"RUN, DAVE, RUN--TIGER'S LOOSE--NIT!" was another witticism and a crooked
pole bore aloft these words, "JUDGE DAVID KILDARE SOAKS OLD BOOZE THE
FIRST ROUND!"
They lined up in front of the headquarters and gave a shrill cheer that
made up in enthusiasm for what it lacked in volume. They took a few words
of banter from the candidate in lieu of a speech and paraded off around
the city, spending much time in front of the camp of the opposition and
indulging in as much of derisive vituperation as they dared.
They were followed by another picturesque visitation. A dignified old
colored man brought twenty pathetic little pickaninnies from the orphans'
home, to which, the men at headquarters learned for the first time, David
Kildare had given the modest building that sheltered the waifs.
Decidedly, murder will out, and there come times when the left and right
hands of a man are forced into confession to each other about their most
secret actions. A political campaign is apt to bring such a situation
into the lives of the aspiring candidates. The little coons set up a
musical wail that passed for a cheer and marched away munching the
contents of a huge box of candy that Polly had sent down to headquarters
the night before, such being her idea of a flagon with which to stay the
courage of the contestants.