To the candidate the three days were as ten years crowded into as many

hours. Down at his headquarters in the _Gray Picket_ rooms he stood firm

and met wave after wave of fluctuating excitement that surged around him

with his head up, a ring in his laugh and an almost superhuman tact.

As late as Wednesday noon there appeared before him three excited

Anti-Saloon League matrons with plans to put committees of ladies at all

the polls to hand out lemonade and entreaties--perhaps threats--to the

voters as they exercised their civic function. They had planned banners

with "Shall The Saloon Have My Boy?" in large letters thereon inscribed

and they were morally certain that without the carrying out of their plan

the day would be lost. It took David Kildare one hour and a quarter to

persuade them that it would be better to have a temperance rally at the

theater on Wednesday night at which each of the three should make most

convincing speeches to the assembled women of the city, thereby

furnishing arguments to their sisters with which to start the men to the

polls next day.

He promised to come and make a short opening speech and they left him

with their plans changed but their enthusiasm augmented. David sank into

a chair and mopped his shining brow. The major had been witness to the

encounter from the editorial desk and Cap Cantrell was bent double with

laughter behind a pile of papers he was searching for data for Andrew.

"I'm all in, Major," said David faintly. "Just pick up the pieces in a

basket."

"David, sir," said the major, "your conduct of that onslaught was

masterly! If the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world why not the

hand that flips the batter-cake rock the ballot-box--cradle out of date?

That's a little mixed but pertinent. I'm for letting them have the

try. They're only crying because they think we don't want 'em to have

it--maybe they'll go back to the cradle and rock all the better for being

free citizens!"

"And not a cussed one of those three old lady cats has ever shown a

kitten!" exploded Cap from behind his pile of papers.

"Anyway, the worst is over now--must be!" answered David as he began to

read over some bulletins and telegrams. But he had troubles yet to come.

In the next two hours he had a conference with the head of the chamber of

commerce which heated his blood to the boiling-point and brought forth an

ultimatum, delivered in no uncertain terms but with such perfect courtesy

and clean-sightedness that the gentleman departed in haste to look into

certain matters which he now suspected to have been cooked to lead him

astray.

This event had been followed by the advent of five of the old fellows who

had obtained furloughs and ridden in from the Soldiers' Home for the

express purpose of assuring him of their support, as the vindicator of

their honor, wringing his hand and cheering on the fight. They retired

with Cap into the back room and emerged shortly, beaming and refreshed.

They had no votes to cast in the city, but what matter?




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