The judge had been talking this for two presidential campaigns and didn't take himself at all seriously. "What are you going to do?" "I don't know, yet." "Do you want 'o study law?" "I don't know, sir. Do you think I can be a lawyer?" "If you're not too damned honest. If you want 'o try it, I'll make an arrangement with you, that will be better than sawing wood anyhow, this winter, and you can keep right on with your studies. We'll see what can be done next year." The old man had taken a liking to Bradley on account of his oratory, and the possibilities of making him a Democratic leader had really taken possession of him. He had no son of his own, and he took a deep interest in young men of the stamp of Milton and Bradley. After he reached home that night, Bradley extended his ambitions. He dared to hope that he might be a lawyer, and an orator, which meant also a successful politician to him. Politics to him, as to most western men, was the greatest concern of life, and the city of Washington the Mecca whose shining dome lured from afar. To go to Washington was equivalent to being born again. "A man can do anything if he thinks so and tries hard," he thought, following Radbourn's words. He bustled about cheerily, cooking his fried potatoes and scraps of meat, and boiling his tea. The dim light made his large face softer and more thoughtful than it had appeared before, and his cheerfulness over his lonely meal typed forth the sublime audacity, profound ignorance, and pathetic faith with which such a man faces the world's millions and dares to hope for success. VI. BRADLEY ATTENDS A CONVENTION. On a dreamful September day of the following year, Bradley was helping Milton Jennings to dig potatoes. It was nearly time for his return to school and to Judge Brown's office, and the two young men were full of plans. Milton was intending to go back for another year, and Bradley intended to keep up with his studies if possible, and retain his place with Brown also. "Say," broke out Milton suddenly, "we ought to attend this convention." "What convention?" "Why, the nominating convention at Rock. Father's going this afternoon. I never've been. Let's go with him." "That won't dig taters," smiled Bradley in his slow way. "Darn the taters. If we're goin' into politics we want 'o know all about things." "That's so. I would like to go if your father'll let us off on the taters." Mr. Jennings made no objection. "It'll be a farce, though, the whole thing." "Why so?" "I'll tell you on the way down. Git the team ready and we'll take neighbor Councill in." Bradley listened to Mr. Jennings' explanation with an interest born of his expanding ambition. His marvellously retentive mind absorbed every detail and the situation cleared in his mind.