The Election
Danvers did not hear the clerk of the Senate as he began the roll-call
of the senators after the presiding officer had rapped for order. The
first three men in the A's were irrevocably opposed to Burroughs and
Danvers concentrated his whole thought on Senator Blair's change of
heart.
While the men preceding Charlie were voting, Winifred whispered to her
brother. He did not seem to hear, and his dazed eyes were still fixed
straight ahead. The flaming red of the scar made his face look still
more ghastly, and at times his form swayed dizzily.
"Do not vote for Mr. Burroughs," Winifred entreated. "For my sake,
Charlie. You've always been willing to please me. Vote for any one
else. Philip expects your loyalty. Vote for him, even. Show him that
you, if no one else, appreciate his courage in facing these men and
denouncing them before the entire Assembly."
"Blair!" came the stentorian voice from the desk. Necks were craned and
men rose to whisper and to look as this man's name was called. How would
he vote? Burroughs' throat grew dry to suffocation. Moore's gaze was
imperturbable, but the muscles in his neck twitched perceptibly, while
sweat beaded his upper lip. Danvers still kept his eye on the miserably
shaken Blair, and still hoped.
Suddenly Charlie turned and threw him one look. Then he rose, slowly,
with painful effort, holding his sister's supporting arm. He showed the
effect of stormy weeks of passion as he stood a moment, silent.
"Vote for Philip, Charlie," whispered Winifred, under cover of assisting
him. Blair looked around the room.
"Mr. President," he began, in a trembling voice. "Before I cast my vote
in this ballot, I wish to say that I have listened to my honored
colleague from Chouteau County with mingled feelings of shame at my own
unworthiness and admiration for the courage which had dared to say what
every man of us should have said six weeks ago. Senator Danvers
beseeches us to send to Washington a man who will guard the fair name of
Montana, who will work for our best interests, and reflect honor on
every inhabitant of the State. He asks us to vote for one above
reproach, one who would accept no position at the expense of his
fellows. I am inclined to give his plea serious consideration. But
before I cast my ballot," his voice gained in strength and firmness, and
he stepped forward with a gesture of irrevocable decision and placed
upon the speaker's desk a long white envelope, "I will place here thirty
thousand dollars, to be redeemed by the party who shoved it under my
door two days ago.
"And now," turning to the gasping assembly, "as the senator from
Chouteau has unconsciously suggested the very man to represent our State
in Congress--the man on whom, I am sure, we can all agree--I take great
pleasure, Mr. President, in casting my vote, the first vote, for the
Honorable Philip Danvers of Fort Benton!"
Quick applause rang out as Blair took his seat, and Winifred kissed his
hand as it lay trembling on his desk.
Danvers gasped in dismay. Had Blair's sickness quite turned his head?
But, no! Never had his eye been clearer; never had he looked more the
man as he returned full and strong Philip's amazed gaze.
Danvers half rose to protest, but the doctor pulled him down. Winifred
began to cry behind her veil as the applause continued. A responsive
note had been struck. When quiet was somewhat restored, the automatic
clerk called the next name--the name of the senator who had promised Eva
his vote. Since Latimer's death he had heartily wished for some excuse
to be absolved from that promise. Here was his opportunity.
"Philip Danvers!" he called loudly, defiantly, perhaps. He owed
Burroughs nothing. But as a rolling stone gathers momentum, so did this
unexpected addition to the new name on the list of candidates give
impetus to a stampede which soon made itself understood, as much to the
surprise of Blair as Danvers.
"Never mind, Bob," whispered Moore, hoarsely. "It's only a spurt that
will die out. They often run like a flock of sheep. You'll get there on
the next ballot."
When Senator Hall's name was called, he rose airily. He not only wished
to hide his hand, but to get even with Danvers for many an upright act
unconsciously done while they two were troopers together at Fort
Macleod.
"I wish to explain my vote," began the lanky senator. "My esteemed
colleague from Chouteau County has made a very pretty speech, intended,
I take it, for the ladies who are honoring us with their fair presence,
and also to enhance his own reputation. His accusations can hardly be
proven. And while I voted for Burroughs for reasons which no man has a
right to question, I wish to state that even if I had not so voted in
the past, I should feel it incumbent on me as a native born American to
vote for him at this time. I do not approve of a foreigner, an
Englishman, a man who has been one of that force across our northern
border which has frequently done grave injustice not only to many of our
citizens, but, I dare say, to Burroughs himself, undertaking to teach us
anything in a political way."
O'Dwyer rose at this. His red face was redder than ever, and he shook
his fist at the speaker; but the doctor pulled him down, and he
reluctantly subsided. For Hall to speak thus of the North West Mounted
Police when he had been drummed out of the force!
"I may also say," went on Hall, "that I believe this thirty thousand
dollars (if there is such a sum of money in the envelope which Senator
Blair has just placed on the desk) was put up for the purpose of
stampeding the Assembly for this man who professes to be so honest and
so upright--Senator Danvers!"
Hisses came from all over the room, but Hall was impervious.
"Mr. President: I hereby make my protest against such spectacular
performances by casting my vote, altogether uninfluenced, for the
Honorable Robert Burroughs," he gave a quick glance to the rear of the
room where a new group had just crowded in, "and I defy anyone to detect
'a blush of shame' on my brow."
The speech and the bravado fell flat. The crowd was not with this
bribe-taker. The voting proceeded, and Danvers' name was spoken with
gusto by many who thought, on the next ballot, to return to their
respective candidates.
"Philip Danvers!" yelled Representative O'Dwyer, hardly waiting for his
name as the representatives were called. "Danvers! Danvers! Danvers!" he
repeated, in a frenzy of friendly fervor. Pounding feet and canes
accentuated the Irishman's cry.
"You've given him the deciding vote, O'Dwyer!" shouted the doctor,
forgetting decorum in the delirium of the moment. He had kept close
check on the various candidates while the angry Moore and Burroughs,
purple and speechless, stood aghast, not believing that this flurry
could abolish the results of their expensive campaign.
"Philip Danvers it is!" yelled O'Dwyer, overjoyed, leaping to the top
of his desk and jumping madly. "Danvers forever! Hooray!"
"Danvers! Danvers! Danvers!" The name was taken up as a slogan by the
cheering legislators and citizens--men and women alike. Shouts and
hisses, congratulations and curses, laughter and consternation mingled
over this unexpected denouement of the long-drawn-out contest.
The speaker's gavel came near to breaking, and the desk was cracked
before the tumult could be quieted sufficiently to proceed with the
balloting.
The remaining numbers, almost to a man, voted for Danvers; and when
O'Dwyer moved that the vote be made unanimous, the noise and enthusiasm
which had preceded was as silence to what followed when the motion was
put, seconded and carried, that Philip Danvers of Fort Benton be
declared unanimously elected as the United States senator from Montana
to fill the vacancy for the four years beginning March four, eighteen
hundred and ninety----.
Even Senator Hall joined the majority--for did he not already have his
money safely invested? Besides, he could be censured by Burroughs no
more than many others who had taken his money and betrayed him.
"Speech! speech!" yelled the crowd. But Danvers could not speak.
"Let us go," whispered Mrs. Burroughs, as the demonstration continued.
She looked half in scorn, half in pity, on her husband, frustrated in
the ambition of years by the man he most hated--her brother. "Let us go,
Robert," she repeated.
The young daughter crept nearer and clasped her father's icy hand. She
did not understand the accusations made against a father who had shown
her nothing but love.
"Better luck next time, Bob," consoled Moore. "Don't let everybody see
how hard hit you are. Danvers is elected only for the short term, you
know--four years."
Choking, Burroughs attempted to force his way through the cheering,
struggling mob, and to clear a path for his wife and daughter. But as
the crowd gave way, in deference to the women, a new obstruction
presented itself.
Robert Burroughs did not recognize the slouching, dirty buck blocking
his way as Me-Casto, the once haughty pride of the Blackfeet federation,
or the obese, filthy squaw as Pine Coulee. The work of civilization had
obviously been in vain. But this tall, strapping 'breed reaching out his
unwashed hand! Burroughs gazed at a replica of himself as he had been at
Fort Macleod.
"Him you father?" questioned the half-breed, addressing the frightened
daughter. He had been well coached by the grinning McDevitt, so close
behind him.
"She you mother?" He pointed to Kate Danvers, high bred and aristocratic
in her scorn.
"She _my_ mother," the 'breed went on, fiendishly, indicating the
toothless, loathsome squaw, whose vindictive eyes never wavered from
Burroughs' craven face. "Him both our father!" The common parent was
given a fillip of a contemptuous thumb and finger.
Burroughs could not look at his wife, but he threw a furtive glance at
the flower-like face of his daughter. Her look of terror and of shame
was more than he could bear. Before all men he had been confounded;
before the wife whose love he had never won, his own passion proving his
torment; before his daughter, the idol of his heart.
As the surge of curious men pressed nearer he saw the malevolent joy of
Joseph Hall and of Chaplain McDevitt, and he knew who had planned his
disgrace. He saw Danvers, vainly striving to reach his sister.
"Let me out!" came in a thick gurgle from his swelling throat. Something
in his face made the throng give way and Moore quickly pushed him
outside into the midnight cold.
"Go back for my wife and daughter," Burroughs commanded. "Go back!"
The street was empty, for everybody had stayed within the capitol to
feast on the sensation of the Indians and the fainting women. Moore
hesitated.
"They'll be right out, Bob. Let me call a cab."
"Go!" The old, imperious fire came from the deep-set eyes.
Moore had no sooner turned his back to obey than a pistol shot broke the
stillness.
The rabble poured from the capitol at the sound of the shot. Moore, the
only friend that Burroughs ever had, raised his companion. The plotting
and planning was over. Robert Burroughs, having forced his way through
life's stockade, stepped out, alone, into the Dark Trail.
In the confusion of that midnight scene Danvers was conscious of but one
desire, held in abeyance by the tragic necessities of the moment. At
last the surging crowd dispersed, the officers of the law performed
their hasty duty, and Moore drove away in a closed carriage with Mrs.
Burroughs and her daughter.
Then Danvers turned wearily, eagerly, like a man famished and athirst,
to the woman who meant peace and rest and inspiration.
She stood in the dim light, clinging to her brother's arm, while the
doctor waited beside the carriage.
Charlie reached out a trembling hand and looked into Philip's face. Then
he bent and kissed his sister, and gently withdrawing his arm, gave her
to Danvers. The doctor hurried the sick man into the carriage, and it
drove into the night.
The lovers clung together like tired, frightened children, and walked
silently.
"It is all over," said Winifred, at last.
"No, dear one; it is just begun!"
* * * * *
TRAILS THROUGH WESTERN WOODS
_By_ HELEN FITZGERALD SANDERS
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EXTRACTS
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THE DESERTED CABIN
How desolate it stands upon the slope
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No curtain sways; no eager welcome waits
From smiling faces there.
The path is overgrown, and through the grass,
Self-sown, the pansies from their border stray;
And thick athwart the door the ivy shade
Grows deeper day by day.
And such my life since you have left; the rain
Unheeded falls, the sun shines as of old,
But lingers not in all the dreary rooms
To touch your hair to gold.
And yet, a little vine of memory
Clings round the doorway where your garments swept;--
Close to the threshold where your footfall passed,
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CHRONICLES _of_ OLDFIELDS
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Transcriber's note
The following changes have been made to the text:
Page 89: "She clnug to him" changed to "She clung to him".
Page 289 "like the the cauterizing" changed to "like the cauterizing".
End of Project Gutenberg's A Man of Two Countries, by Alice Harriman