Other candidates there were, too, who used illegal methods to obtain votes. Not that no reputable man was a candidate; not that honest, incorruptible men could not be found in the legislative halls of Montana; but Moore's extravagance in behalf of his chief shattered all precedents, defied integrity and exposure and eclipsed the good that would not be submerged. In fact, his prodigality defeated its purpose; when men found that they could get five thousand dollars for a vote as easily as one thousand, they held their decision in abeyance until the consideration was increased fourfold. This not once, nor twice; not by one man, but by the indefinite many, until it was current talk that certain men had received one, five, ten, even fifteen thousand dollars for their votes. Why should legislators talk of "their duty," or "the principle of the thing," when a lifetime of ordinary business methods and dealings would bring but little more than might be obtained by speaking a man's name in joint assembly? To listen to any group of men discussing the political situation one unacquainted with the law would never mistrust that bribery in legislatures was a state's prison offense. So wary did members become that Burroughs, possessing small faith in the impeccability of his fellow men, grew peevish at the delay in securing the requisite majority, while those who held Montana's best interests at heart breasted the tidal wave of corruption with sinking hearts. As in every contest of its kind, the full vote for Burroughs was not cast at any joint assembly until Moore knew he had the number required to elect. In this way no legislator was sure from day to day of the man sitting beside him; some one known to be pledged to another candidate, or professing himself under no obligations to any man, would swaggeringly or shamefacedly, as the case might be, announce as his name was called from the alphabetical list by the brazen-voiced reader in front of the speaker's desk that his choice for a United States senator was Robert Burroughs. Days went by, with no decisive vote; there was less good-fellowship, more caution; less talking, more secrecy; each member looking askance at his neighbor, wondering if he was or would be bought. Lobbies and halls of capitol, hotels, saloons and offices swarmed with men talking of Burroughs. O'Dwyer, member from Chouteau County, took to walking in the middle of the streets to ward off Burroughs' emissaries--greatly to the amusement of his friends, in days when amusement was seldom indulged in by the small band of honest men in the Legislature. State Senator Danvers grew more grave as time went on. The onus of his party's opposition had fallen on him, for he was working for the governor's election as United States senator as against Burroughs, also a Republican. He felt more alone than at any time since he had lived in the Northwest, for the doctor was back at Fort Benton, and Judge Latimer away on professional matters.