The Ramrodders | Page 2

old man lifted his gaze from his reading and eyed the
dusty wayfarers benignantly. He liked to know that the boys were
turning out to the caucus. His perch was a lofty one. He could see that
the one long street of Fort Canibas was well gridironed with
teams--horses munching at hitching-posts, wagons thrusting their tails
into the roadway.
It was quiet at Thornton's end of the village. There was merely twitter
of birds in the silver poplar that shaded his seat, busy chatter of
swallows, who were plastering up their mud nests under the eaves of
the old blockhouse across the road from him. It was so quiet that he
could hear a tumult at the other end of the village; it was a tumult for
calm Fort Canibas. A raucous voice bellowed oratory of some sort, and
yells and laughter and cheers punctuated the speech. Thornton knew the
voice, even at that distance, for the voice of "War Eagle" Niles. He
grinned, reading his paper. The sound of that voice salted the article
that he was skimming:
"--and the fight is beginning early this year. The reform leaders say
they find the sentiment of the people to be with them, and so the
reformers propose to do their effective work at the caucuses instead of
waiting to lock horns with a legislature and lobby controlled by the old
politicians of the State. There is a contest on even in that impregnable
fortress of the old regime, the 'Duchy of Canibas.' It is said that the
whole strength of the State reform movement is quietly behind the

attempt to destroy Thelismer Thornton's control in the north country.
His is one of the earliest caucuses, and the moral effect of the defeat of
that ancient autocrat will be incalculable."
Still more broadly did Thornton smile. "War Eagle" Niles, down there,
was a reformer. For forty years he had been bellowing against despots
and existing order, and, for the Duke of Fort Canibas, he typified
"Reform!" Visionary, windy, snarling, impracticable attempts to smash
the machine!
Therefore, in his serene confidence--the confidence of an old man who
has founded and knows the solidity of the foundations--Thelismer
Thornton smoked peacefully at one end of the village of Fort Canibas,
and allowed rebellion to roar at its pleasure in the other end.
Then he saw them coming, heard the growing murmur of many voices,
the cackle of occasional laughter, and took especial note of "War
Eagle" Ivus Niles, who led the parade. A fuzzy and ancient silk hat
topped his head, a rusty frock-coat flapped about his legs, and he
tugged along at the end of a cord a dirty buck sheep. A big crowd
followed; but when they shuffled into the yard of "The Barracks" most
of the men were grinning, as though they had come merely to look on
at a show. The old man in his aureole of roots gazed at them with
composure, and noted no hostility.
Niles and his buck sheep stood forth alone. The others were grouped in
a half circle. Even upon the "War Eagle," Thornton gazed tolerantly.
There was the glint of fun in his eyes when Niles formally removed his
silk hat, balanced it, crown up, in the hook of his elbow, and prepared
to deliver his message.
"The dynasty of the house of Thornton must end to-day!" boomed Niles,
in his best orotund.
Thornton found eyes in the crowd that blinked appreciation. Quizzical
wrinkles deepened in his broad face. He plucked a cigar from his
waistcoat-pocket and held it down toward Mr. Niles.

"No, sir!" roared that irreconcilable. "I ain't holding out my porringer to
Power--never again!"
"Power," repulsed, lighted the cigar from the one he was smoking, and
snapped the butt at the sheep.
"I'm a lover of good oratory, Ivus," he said, placidly, "and I know
you've come here loaded. Fire!" He clasped his upcocked knee with his
big hands, fingers interlaced, and leaned back.
The crowd exchanged elbow-thrusts and winks. But the ripple of
laughter behind did not take the edge off Mr. Niles's earnestness.
"Honorable Thornton, I do not mind your sneers and slurs. When I see
my duty I go for it. I'm here before you to-day as Protest walking erect,
man-fashion, on two legs, and with a visible emblem that talks plainer
than words can talk. The people need visible emblems to remind them.
Like I'm leading this sheep, so you have been leading the voters of this
legislative district. The ring has been in here"--Mr. Niles savagely
pinched the cartilage of his nose--"and you have held the end of the
cord. That's the way you've been led, you people!" The orator whirled
and included his concourse of listeners as objects of arraignment.
"Here's the picture of you as voters