``And you'll begin to make a fight again?''
``Certainly,'' said Davy impatiently.
When he was alone he became once more involved in one of those internal struggles to prevent himself from seeing--and smelling--a hideous and malodorous truth.These struggles were painfully frequent.The only consolation the young reformer found was that they were increasingly less difficult to end in the way such struggles must be ended if a high-minded young man is to make a career in ``practical'' life.
On election day after he had voted he went for a long walk in the woods to the south of the town, leaving word at his headquarters what direction he had taken.After walking two hours he sat down on a log in the shade near where the highroad crossed Foaming Creek.He became so absorbed in his thoughts that he sprang to his feet with a wild look when Selma's voice said, close by:
``May I interrupt a moment, Mr.Hull?''
He recovered slowly.His cheeks were pale and his voice uncertain as he replied:
``You? I beg your pardon.This campaign has played smash with my nerves.''
He now noted that she was regarding him with a glance so intense that it seemed to concentrate all the passion and energy in that slim, nervous body of hers.He said uncomfortably:
``You wished to see me?''
``I wonder what you were thinking about,'' she said in her impetuous, direct way.``It makes me almost afraid to ask what Icame to ask.''
``Won't you sit?'' said he.
``No, thanks,'' replied she.
``Then you'll compel me to stand.And I'm horribly tired.''
She seated herself upon the log.He made himself comfortable at its other end.
``I've just come from Victor Dorn's house,'' said she.``There was a consultation among the leaders of our party.We have learned that your people--Kelly and House--are going to steal the election on the count this evening.They are committing wholesale frauds now-- sending round gangs of repeaters, intimidating our voters, openly buying votes at the polling places-- paying men as much not to vote as they usually pay for votes.''
Davy, though latterly he had grown so much older and graver that no one now thought of him as Davy, contrived to muster a smile of amusement.``You oughtn't to let them deceive you with that silly talk, Miss Gordon.The losers always indulge in it.Your good sense must tell you how foolish it is.The police are on guard, and the courts of justice are open.''
``Yes--the police are on guard--to protect fraud and to drive us away from the polls.And the courts are open--but not for us.''
David was gentle with her.``I know how sincere you are, Selma,'' said he.``No doubt you believe those things.Perhaps Dorn believes them, also--from repeating them so often.But all the same I'm sorry to hear you say them.''
He tried to look at her.He found that his eyes were more comfortable when his glance was elsewhere.
``This has been a sad campaign to me,'' he went on.``I did not appreciate before what demagogery meant --how dangerous it is--how wicked, how criminally wicked it is for men to stir up the lower classes against the educated leadership of the community.
Selma laughed contemptuously.``What nonsense, David Hull--and from YOU!'' she cried.``By educated leadership do you mean the traction and gas and water and coal and iron and produce thieves?
Or do you mean the officials and the judges who protect them and license them to rob?'' Her eyes flashed.``At this very moment, in our town, those thieves and their agents, the police and the courts, are committing the most frightful crime known to a free people.Yet the masses are submitting peaceably.How long the upper class has to indulge in violence, and how savagely cruel it has to be, before the people even murmur.But I didn't come here to remind you of what you already know.I came to ask you, as a man whom I have respected, to assert his manhood--if there is any of it left after this campaign of falsehood and shifting.''
``Selma!'' he protested energetically, but still avoiding her eyes.
``Those wretches are stealing that election for you, David Hull.
Are you going to stand for it? Or, will you go into town and force Kelly to stop?''
``If anything wrong is being done by Kelly,'' said David, ``it must be for Sawyer.''
Selma rose.``At our consultation,'' said she quietly and even with no suggestion of repressed emotion, ``they debated coming to you and laying the facts before you.They decided against it.
They were right; I was wrong.I pity you, David Hull.
Good-by.''
She walked away.He hesitated, observing her.His eyes lighted up with the passion he believed his good sense had conquered.
``Selma, don't misjudge me!'' he cried, following her.``I am not the scoundrel they're making you believe me.I love you!''
She wheeled upon him so fiercely that he started back.``How dare you!'' she said, her voice choking with anger.``You miserable fraud! You bellwether for the plutocracy, to lead reform movements off on a false scent, off into the marshes where they'll be suffocated.'' She looked at him from head to foot with a withering glance.``No doubt, you'll have what's called a successful career.You'll be their traitor leader for the radicals they want to bring to confusion.When the people cry for a reform you'll shout louder than anybody else--and you'll be made leader--and you'll lead--into the marshes.Your followers will perish, but you'll come back, ready for the next treachery for which the plutocracy needs you.And you'll look honest and respectable--and you'll talk virtue and reform and justice.But you'll know what you are yourself.David Hull, I despise you as much as you despise yourself.''
He did not follow as she walked away.He returned to the log, and slowly reseated himself.He was glad of the violent headache that made thought impossible.
