A Knight of the Cumberland | Page 8

First, it would not be fair to my
constituents; secondly, it would hardly be seeming to barter the noble
gift of the people to which we both aspire; thirdly, you might lose with
me out of the way; and fourthly, I'm going to win whether you are in
the way or not.''

The horseman slowly collapsed while the Hon. Samuel was talking,
and now he threw the leg back, kicked for his stirrup twice, spat once,
and turned his horse's head.
``I reckon you will, stranger,'' he said sadly, ``with that gift o' gab o'
yourn.'' He turned without another word or nod of good-by and started
back up the creek whence he had come.
``One gone,'' said the Hon. Samuel Budd grimly, ``and I swear I'm right
sorry for him.'' And so was I.
An hour later we struck the river, and another hour upstream brought us
to where the contest of tongues was to come about. No sylvan dell in
Arcady could have been lovelier than the spot. Above the road, a big
spring poured a clear little stream over shining pebbles into the river;
above it the bushes hung thick with autumn leaves, and above them
stood yellow beeches like pillars of pale fire. On both sides of the road
sat and squatted the honest voters, sour-looking, disgruntled--a
distinctly hostile crowd. The Blight and my little sister drew great and
curious attention as they sat on a bowlder above the spring while I went
with the Hon. Samuel Budd under the guidance of Uncle Tommie
Hendricks, who introduced him right and left. The Hon. Samuel was
cheery, but he was plainly nervous. There were two lanky youths
whose names, oddly enough, were Budd. As they gave him their huge
paws in lifeless fashion, the Hon. Samuel slapped one on the shoulder,
with the true democracy of the politician, and said jocosely:
``Well, we Budds may not be what you call great people, but, thank
God, none of us have ever been in the penitentiary,'' and he laughed
loudly, thinking that he had scored a great and jolly point. The two
young men looked exceedingly grave and Uncle Tommie
panic-stricken. He plucked the Hon. Sam by the sleeve and led him
aside:
``I reckon you made a leetle mistake thar. Them two fellers' daddy died
in the penitentiary last spring.'' The Hon. Sam whistled mournfully, but
he looked game enough when his opponent rose to speak --Uncle Josh
Barton, who had short, thick, upright hair, little sharp eyes, and a

rasping voice. Uncle Josh wasted no time:
``Feller-citizens,'' he shouted, ``this man is a lawyer--he's a corporation
lawyer''; the fearful name--pronounced ``lie-yer''--rang through the
crowd like a trumpet, and like lightning the Hon. Sam was on his feet.
``The man who says that is a liar,'' he said calmly, `` and I demand your
authority for the statement. If you won't give it--I shall hold you
personally responsible, sir.''
It was a strike home, and under the flashing eyes that stared
unwaveringly, through the big goggles, Uncle Josh halted and
stammered and admitted that he might have been misinformed.
``Then I advise you to be more careful,'' cautioned the Hon. Samuel
sharply.
``Feller-citizens,'' said Uncle Josh, ``if he ain't a corporation
lawyer--who is this man? Where did he come from? I have been born
and raised among you. You all know me--do you know him? Whut's he
a-doin' now? He's a fine-haired furriner, an' he's come down hyeh from
the settlemints to tell ye that you hain't got no man in yo' own deestrict
that's fittin' to represent ye in the legislatur'. Look at him-- look at him!
He's got FOUR eyes! Look at his hair--hit's PARTED IN THE
MIDDLE!'' There was a storm of laughter--Uncle Josh had made
good--and if the Hon. Samuel could straightway have turned
bald-headed and sightless, he would have been a happy man. He looked
sick with hopelessness, but Uncle Tommie Hendricks, his mentor, was
vigorously whispering something in his ear, and gradually his face
cleared. Indeed, the Hon. Samuel was smilingly confident when he
rose.
Like his rival, he stood in the open road, and the sun beat down on his
parted yellow hair, so that the eyes of all could see, and the laughter
was still running round.
``Who is your Uncle Josh?'' he asked with threatening mildness. ``I
know I was not born here, but, my friends, I couldn't help that. And just

as soon as I could get away from where I was born, I came here and,''
he paused with lips parted and long finger outstretched, `` and--I--came
--because--I WANTED--to come--and NOT because I HAD TO.''
Now it seems that Uncle Josh, too, was not a native and that he had left
home early in life for his State's good and