THE HONEYBIRD
In the African jungle dwells a pretty little bird that lives on honey.
The saccharine dainty is there found in the hollows of trees and under
the bark, where what is known as the carpenter bee bores and deposits
his extract from the buds and blossoms of the tropical forest.
The bird is called the "honeybird" because it is a sure guide to the
deposits of the delicacy. The bird dislikes the laborious task of
pecking its way through the bark to reach the honey, and so, wise in
the ways of men, it procures help. It locates a nest of honey, then
flies about until it sees some natives or hunters, to whom it shows
itself. They know the honeybird and know that it will lead them to the
treasure store. Following the bird, which flits just in advance, they
reach the cache of dripping sweetness and readily lay it open with
hatchets or knives. Taking what they want, there is always enough left
clinging to the tree and easily accessible to satisfy the appetite of
the clever little bird.
Senator Stevens of Mississippi bears a marked resemblance to the
honeybird--so much so that he has well won the bird's appellation for
himself. Abnormally keen at locating possibilities for extracting
"honey" from the governmental affairs in Washington, he invariably led
Peabody, representing the hunter with the ax, to the repository. He
would then rely on the Pennsylvanian's superior force to break down
the barriers. Stevens would flutter about and gather up the leavings.
Equally as mercenary as "the boss of the Senate," he lacked Peabody's
iron nerve, determination, resourcefulness and daring. He needed many
hours of sleep. Peabody could work twenty hours at a stretch. He had
to have his meals regularly or else suffer from indigestion. Peabody
sometimes did a day's work on two boiled eggs and a cup of coffee.
The senior Senator from Mississippi had been the first to point out to
Peabody the possibilities for profit in the gulf naval base project,
but the morning following the conference with Steinert when he
rejoined them for breakfast at the Louis Napoleon he was far from
comfortable. He did not mind fighting brain against brain, even though
unprincipled methods were resorted to, but indications were that more
violent agencies would be called into play owing to the complications
that had arisen.
Stevens ate heartily to strengthen his courage. Steinert ate hugely
to strengthen his body. Peabody ate scarcely anything at all--to
strengthen his brain.
Waving away the hotel waiter who had brought the breakfast to his
apartment, Senator Peabody outlined the probable campaign of the day.
"If our best efforts to weaken and scare off Langdon fail to-day," he
said, "it will naturally develop that we must render it impossible in
some way for him to appear in the Senate at all, or we must delay his
arrival until after the report of the committee on naval affairs has
been made. In either event he would not have another opportunity to
speak on that subject.
"Of course, later, at 12:30, we will know his plan of action. Then we
can act to the very point, but we must be prepared for any situation
that can arise."
"Cannot the President of the Senate be persuaded not to recognize
Langdon on the floor? Then we could adjourn and shut him off," asked
Stevens.
"No," responded Peabody; "he has already promised Langdon to recognize
him, and the President of the Senate cannot be persuaded to break his
word. I am painfully aware of this fact."
But Stevens was not yet dissuaded from the hope of defeating the
junior Senator from Mississippi by wit alone.
"Can we not have a speaker get the floor before Langdon and have him
talk for hours--tire out the old kicker--and await a time when he
leaves the Senate chamber to eat or talk to some visitor we could have
call on him, then shove the bill through summarily?" he suggested.
"I've gone over all that." answered Peabody, quickly. "It would only
be delaying the evil hour. You wouldn't be able to move that old
codger away from the Senate chamber with a team of oxen--once he
gets to his seat. His secretary, Haines--another oversight of yours,
Stevens"--the latter winced--"will warn him. Langdon would stick pins
through his eyelids to keep from falling asleep."
"I've been thinkin'," put in Steinert, slowly, "that a little
fine-esse like this might keep him away: When Langdon's in his
committee room before goin' to the Senate send him a telegram signed
by one of his frien's' name that one of his daughters is dyin' from
injuries in a automobile collision a few miles out o' town. That
'ud--"
"Ridiculous," snorted Peabody. "He'd know where they were. They're
always--"
"Huh! then put in more fine-esse."
"How? What?"
"Hev some 'un take 'em out a-autoin'--"
"No, no, man!" snapped Peabody. "They'd stick in town to hear their
father's wonderful speech."
"Well," went on the lobbyist, "I'll hev Langd'n watched by a careful
picked man, a nigger that won't talk. He'll pick a row with the
Colonel on some street, say, w'en he's comin' from his home after
lunch. The coon kin bump into Langd'n an' call him names. Then
w'en ole fireworks sails into 'im, yellin' about what 'e'd do in
Mississippi, the coon pulls a gun on the Colonel an' fires a couple o'
shots random. Cops come up, an' our pertickeler copper'll lug Langd'n
away as a witness, refusin' to believe 'e's a Senator. I kin arrange
to hev him kept in the cooler a couple o' hours without gettin' any
word out, or I'll hev 'im entered up as drunk an' disorderly. He'll
look drunk, he'll be so mad."
"But the negro--how could you get a man to undergo arrest on such a
serious charge, attempted murder!" exclaimed Stevens.
"There, there," said Steinert, patronizingly; "coons has more genteel
home life in jail than they does out. An' don't forget the District of
Columbia is governed by folks that ain't residents of it, only durin'
the session. Th' politicians don't leave their frien's in the cooler
very long. Say, Senator Stevens, are you kiddin' me? Is it any
different down in your--"
The Mississippian choked and spluttered over a gulp of unusually hot
coffee, and Peabody again decided Steinert to be on the wrong tack.
"That proceeding would attract too much attention from the
newspapers," he added.
"Well, I thought you wanted to win," grunted Steinert. "I've been
offerin' you good stuff, too--new stuff. None of yer druggin' with
chloroform or ticklin' with blackjacks. Why, I've gone from fine-esse
to common sense. But, come to think of it, how about some woman? I c'n
get one to introduce to--"
"This is the wrong kind of a man," interrupted Peabody.
"Unless you got the right kind of a woman," went on Steinert.
Senator Stevens choked some more.
"The boss of the Senate" sank down in his chair, crossed one knee
over the other and drummed his fingers lightly on the table. He gazed
thoughtfully at Stevens.
"Yes," he observed, slowly, "unless you've got the right sort of a
woman."
Rising, he led the Mississippian to one side.
The lobbyist heard the Southerner give a short exclamation of
astonishment as Peabody whispered to him.
"It's all right. It's all right," he then heard the Pennsylvanian say,
irritably. "She'll understand. She can be trusted. _She expects you_."
Stevens gave a violent start at the last assurance, but his colleague
hurriedly helped him into his coat.
"Go in a closed carriage," was Peabody's final warning. "Be sure to
tell her to get hold of his two daughters on some pretext at once. She
knows them well. Maybe we can influence the old man through his girls,
don't you see?"
And while Senator Peabody and Jake Steinert recurred to a previous
discussion concerning one J.D. Telfer, Mayor of Gulf City, Senator
Stevens started on the most memorable drive of his career on
this bright winter morning, to the house of the fascinating Mrs.
Spangler--who for the past week had been considering his proposal of
marriage.