Recovering his luggage at the junction with the main line, and traveling
an additional forty miles after such a strenuous day, predisposed the
indefatigable Mr. Gollop for a long night's rest. Finding himself again
in a modern little city with a first class hotel, and a luxurious bed
aided the ministrations of nature, so that it was after ten o'clock in
the morning when he whistled his way to his bath and then carefully
selected a clean outfit for the day's work. He hummed like a
particularly lucky hummingbird while he shaved, and felt like
hoppity-skipping down to the grill room, where his healthy appetite
might have full play. He found himself a nicely cushioned alcove through
whose window he could look out on the clear, brilliant morning with its
dazzle of snow, and at the same time luxuriate in the steam heated
atmosphere within. The world seemed turning very well and happily, as
far as Mr. James Gollop could observe and feel, and he gave his order
and was rendered grateful when an excellently trained waiter laid before
him the morning papers. And then Mr. Gollop sat up and grinned with the
culminating joy of the morning!
The paper he had first glanced at was rabidly Democratic and sported a
huge headline completely across the front page which read:
"Gubernatorial Candidate Mobbed in Yimville."
Then followed a series of banks and subheads:
"Loses temper and offers insults to women voters! Excoriates his
own profession whilst in violent temper and ridicules bench of
which he is member! Admits that all he seeks is office. After
amazing outburst, proving unfitness for any public trust, narrowly
avoids tar and feathers and escapes. Present whereabouts unknown."
Special passages from the now famous speech were carefully selected,
duly edited to make them sound the worst, and printed in black-faced
pica. Other passages in the speech were in italics. The whole plant of
the newspaper had been utilized to give adequate expression to this
unparalleled forensic outburst. A much garbled report "in full" was
given of the wording, and as lurid yellow as was ever mixed went to make
up the account of the incidents in Yimville. According to the report the
mob numbered thousands and strong men of both parties wept and gnashed
their teeth in their frantic craving to wreak vengeance on the orator
for the insults offered to their mothers, wives, daughters, and
sweethearts. Indignant women, forgetting the softness of sex, had arisen
in just wrath to execute this brazen-faced apostle of mammon. Half a
column was devoted to the mystery of the Judge's disappearance from the
scene and it was stated that he was believed to have terrorized a boy
into driving him away into the mountains, in which case, it was feared,
owing to the blizzard, that unless they found refuge in some isolated
farm house they might have perished. Jimmy noticed that most of the
concern expressed by the newspaper was for the welfare of the boy. He
was chuckling gleefully to himself when interrupted by the return of
the waiter.
"Pity they didn't get that buzzard and hang him, isn't it, sir?" he
commented indignantly.
"It certainly is," agreed Jimmy.
"Not as I believe in votes for women myself," added the waiter, "but I
don't believe in openly insultin' 'em in public. And think of the likes
of him sayin' as all he wanted was to get elected and as if he didn't
care how! Why he ought to be in that Tammany Hall gang back in New York!
That's the only place in all this United States, I reckon, where folks
stand for that sort of stuff. It's understood back there that all they
want is a fat job and the people be damned, but people out here ain't
educated up to looking at things that way. They ain't any people in the
world that'd stand for what them people in New York does! I worked there
one time for about three year and I know. I'll bet that galoot murdered
that boy. Probably took him as far as he wanted to, then threw the poor
little feller out of the sled into the snow to freeze. All that they'll
ever find of that poor little kid'll be an icicle."
"I'll bet you're right!" agreed Jimmy, again, vociferously. "This paper
says the Judge said some nasty things about Union Labor. I should think
some of you chaps would start something on what Union Labor thinks of
him and his kind."
"By jingoes! You're right about that!" the waiter declared, and then
added, as if overcome by the brilliant opportunity for advertising
himself, "I'm president of the local Waiters' Union, and I'll lay off
this afternoon and look after that myself. We'll show them that thinks
they can knock us a thing or two before we've done with 'em! Down on
honest labor, is he? And he thinks he can get elected if all of us is
agin' him!"
Jimmy read a column on the weather in which it was stated that the storm
was the most unprecedented in twenty years and that on nearly all the
branch lines, where wires were down and a snow blockade complete,
conditions would have to remain as they were until traffic was restored
on the main trunks; but that the railway company hoped to clear the
branch lines within twenty-four hours, and that already telephone and
telegraph linemen were out on snow shoes.
At four o'clock that afternoon Jimmy boarded the train bound for the
last city he would visit in the state, and attracted by the cries of a
newsboy, "All about Judge Granger! Latest news from Yimville," bought a
paper and settled himself down to read.
The latest advices from the scene of his latest escapade told of the
return of Tim. They were published in a Republican paper which began by
stating that the reports of the Judge's speech were mangled distortions
of what the speaker had, in his well known eloquent manner, expressed,
or deliberate lies manufactured by his enemies; that there had been no
riot at all, and that neither had there been a demonstration save a
small uproar created by a branch of the Militant Suffragettes, headed by
that modern prototype of Carrie Nation and her hatchet, the state leader
of that body, whose previous records of disturbances were sufficient in
themselves to convince all thoughtful-minded women, as well as men, that
probably the speaker was justified in whatever he had said to this
professional heckler. Furthermore, as evidence of the depths to which a
totally unscrupulous and irresponsible press could descend in its
efforts to ridicule a great leader, the whole story of flight was, from
the beginning to end, a malicious controversion of fact. This was proven
by the statement of the driver, Timothy Jones, who had that morning
returned to Yimville. The driver was known as completely trustworthy and
honest, and, furthermore, his statements were fully corroborated by his
employer, Mr. Wade, general manager of the Emporium, one of the most
prominent business men in that part of the state.
Judge Granger, after making a most eloquent, lucid, and brilliant speech
which had been unduly prolonged by his patience in replying to questions
addressed by the disturbing element, had found his time for boarding the
regular train so curtailed that he had but a few minutes in which to
reach the station. He had very courteously asked young Jones if he could
drive him thither, there having been an unfortunate lack of foresight in
providing an equipage for his return. Jones drove him to the station,
where, to the Judge's distress, he learned that, owing to the storm,
there would be no train through for an indefinite time. Having other
highly important engagements, he found it necessary to drive to Mountain
City, where he could be more certain of catching a train near midnight.
"All those who are familiar with the great punctiliousness and
responsibility of Judge Woodworth-Granger will therefore not be
surprised to learn that, despite all the fatigues of the day, and the
hardships of such traveling, he courageously braved the blizzard,
fearless in his sense of duty to be performed. That he made such a
difficult night drive merely to keep his pledged word and engagements,
when others might have quailed, or accepted the storm as sufficient
excuse for remaining comfortably in shelter, is in itself a sufficient
tribute to the sterling worth of this distinguished man's character. He
must have inherited from those ancesters of his, who with bleeding feet
trudged through the snows of Valley Forge, some of that patriotism and
high fealty to duty which has ever been the stamp of the true American.
This courageous self-sacrifice to public duty alone is sufficient
evidence that he is the man to guide the destinies of one of the
greatest states in the Union, and those who are to meet in convention
for the choice of a leader will do well to reflect upon what must be
considered as a sterling achievement bespeaking the character of this
honored and distinguished jurist who has somewhat reluctantly yielded to
the demands of his fellow citizens. Those who mendaciously accused him
of office seeking, should hide their heads for shame. Failing to find a
single flaw in the private, public, or professional life of this
distinguished man, his political enemies now seek by ridicule and
innuendo to attack him. To such depths as these has the Democratic party
in this state fallen. Had there ever been the slightest doubt that the
Hon. J. Woodworth-Granger will be the nominee for governor of this
state, it is now dissipated by the scurrilous attack made upon him--an
attack of desperation that must and shall inevitably bring its own
reward. Verily a man is known by the enemies he makes!"
After reading this editorial Jimmy reverted to the news page where the
faithful Tim's defense was given. It was eulogistic. It was colorful. It
told of the vicissitudes of the trip, although it neglected to mention
the episode of losing their way and what was said by the farmer's wife.
Jimmy thought that either Tim or the reporter who wrote the alleged
interview had shown tact in that suppression. But it was beautifully
written! There was no doubt of that. Stinging sleets, biting winds,
desperately fatigued horses, valiant and persistent battles with snow
drifts, icy cold temperatures and everything pertaining to heroism in
the Arctics were there.
"Tim and I have got Scott, Peary and Admunsen all looking like a lot of
pikers!" thought Jimmy as he read. "If the fellow who wrote this can
write stuff as warm, comforting and appetizing on chocolates as he can
about coldness, courage and cramps on that trip to Mountain City, he'll
make a world-beater in the advertising line! He's a whirlwind--no--a
cyclone--when it comes to throwing the guff."
The interview told of the great man's magnanimity and generosity. Not
even his solicitude for old Bill's comfort was overlooked. In fact the
great man wouldn't trust the hostler, but fed Bill bran mash with a
spoon. The suit of clothes he bought "Mister Timothy Jones" was lined
with silk. The underwear might have been of red gold instead of red
flannel. Thus did a brave man reward those who served him in time of
stress. It even intimated that Timothy Jones might retire for life on
his monetary rewards.
It was the next day at luncheon when the cheerful James was given reason
to think less happily of his exploit, and to wonder what happened to a
worm that turned once too often. The newspapers contained the statements
that the wires were now open to Princetown and that in that flourishing
city dwelt a man whose feelings were outraged, who was indignant, who
asserted he had not been in Yimville on the day of the speech, in fact
had never in his life made a speech in Yimville, and that if he had made
a speech in Yimville he most certainly would not--never, never,
never--have expressed the sentiments so brazenly attributed to him. He
was an office seeker in the interests of public rather than personal
welfare, and for no other reason. He had yielded to the overwhelming
petitions of his friends, indeed, not without considerable pain. And
then Jimmy read something that for the first time caused him to
appreciate the possible grave consequences of his ebullient imposture:
"'I am not at the moment in a position to make any definite and
specific charges,' his Honor told the representative of the
_Morning Star_: 'but I have certain well-defined grounds for
believing that the citizens of Yimville, for whom I have the most
profound respect and admiration, knowing that they include some of
the most intellectual and patriotic ladies and gentlemen in the
whole of the United States, have been imposed upon by an individual
who (I have been told) faintly resembles me as far as personal
appearance is involved. Yet how this person, who is, I regret to
say, but a common, vulgar ignoramus, could have the barefaced
effrontery to address an intelligent audience either in his own or
an assumed character, I can not comprehend. Needless to say I shall
at once take steps to learn the truth, and the impostor shall be
made to suffer the extreme penalties of the law providing for the
punishment of such flagrant acts against the public and private
welfare of duly constituted citizens. The world must be made safe
for Democracy. Those who are guilty of lack of observance for those
common and well-defined and closely stipulated rules that govern
the intercourse existing between individuals or those collections
of individuals which are in turn by mutual consent formed into
committies, must hereafter be consistently regulated by those able
to dictate either by force of arms or the divine influence of
reason, until they can no longer prove a menace to the rules
governing, by consent of the governed and the voice of the
governed, human relations in general, in particular, and in
private.'"
Jimmy pondered over the last sentence a long time.
"I suppose he means 'The guilty shall be punished,'" he said, and then
added, admiringly, "By gosh! If he were a Democrat he'd be president of
the United States yet. He surely would! He can use more words to say
less than any other man living, and, come to think of it, he has the
greatest assets of stupidity, which are pompous silence, and a
patronizing grin. The art of so obfuscating his expression with words
that neither his friends nor his enemies can come to any positive
conclusion as to what he means. But if I'm not mistaken, this same J.
Woodworth-Granger, Judge by election, is after the scalp of one James
Gollop, drummer for a living, and--humph!--wonder when the next train
leaves that will take me out of this state's jurisdiction? It seems to
me, Jim, that you should be on your way. Good Lord! Some men can never
take a joke! The idea of raising such a fuss over a little thing like
that!"
And, so potent was his increasing apprehension, Mr. James Gollop did not
actually smile again until seven-thirty that evening, when he received a
reply to a question addressed to the conductor of the eastbound train.
"Are we over the state line yet?" was the question asked.
"By about thirty miles, I should reckon," was the reply.
"Thank heaven for that!" said Mr. Gollop, resuming a placid mental
attitude, and the celebrated Gollop grin. "It's a wise man who knows
where he's not welcome. Both celebrity and notoriety are distinctions to
be shunned. A mud-cat is the most secure of all fish because nobody
wishes to either catch and eat, or play with and caress him. His sole
virtue is his obscurity, the sharpness of his bones his only protection.
I'd rather be a catfish than a salmon after all!"
And the conductor, passing on his way with his nickel-plated lantern
deftly anchored by his arm and his nickel-plated punch industriously
working in his hand, mumbled, "Happy man! He's got just what he wants.
Wish I was general passenger agent of this line. I'm not a catfish
because I want to be one. He seems to be--just that!"