Some of the boys made up fires out in the woods near by, to which they ran whooping whenever the cold became intolerable. They crouched around the flames with a weird return of ancestral barbarism and laughed when the smoke puffed out into their faces. They made occasional forages in company with boys who lived near, after eggs, and apples, and popcorn, which they placed before the fire and ate spiced with ashes. Horsemen galloped up at intervals, bringing encouraging news of other voting places. Teams clattered up filled with roughly-dressed farmers, who greeted the other voters with loud and hearty shouts. They tumbled out of the wagons, voted riotously, and then clattered back into the corn-fields to their work, with wild hurrahs for the granger ticket. The schoolhouse itself roared with laughter and excited talk, and the big stove in the centre devoured its huge chunks of wood, making the heat oppressive near it. No presidential election had ever brought out such throngs of voters, or produced such interested discussion. Bradley had been made clerk. His capital handwriting and knowledge of book-keeping made him a valuable man for that work. He sat behind his desk with the books before him, and impassively performed his duties, but it was his first public appointment, and he was really deeply gratified. He felt paid for all his year's hard study. About two o'clock, when the voters were thickest at the polls, a man galloped up with an excited air, and reining in his foaming horse, yelled: "Deering has withdrawn in favor of Russell!" The crowd swarmed out. "What's the matter?" "Who spoke?" "Deering has withdrawn in favor of Russell. Cast your votes for Russell," repeated the man, and plunged off up the road. The farmers looked at each other. "What the hell's all this?" said Smith. "Who was it?" "I don't know." "He's a liar, whoever he is," said Councill. "Where've I seen him before?" "I know--it's Deering's hired man." "You don't say so!" This seemed like the truth. "I know who it is--it's Sam Harding," shouted Milton. "But that ain't Deering's horse. It's a Republican trick. Jump y'r horse there, Councill." He was carried out of himself by his excitement and anger. The men leaped upon their horses. "Some o' you fellers take his back trail," shouted Councill. "He'll come from Shell-rock and Hell's Corner." The men saw the whole trick. This man had been sent out to the most populous of the county voting places to spread a lying report, trusting to the surprise of the announcement to carry a few indecisive votes for Russell. Other men leaped their horses and rode off on Harding's back trail, while Councill, Milton, and old man Bacon rode away after him. Bacon growled as he rode: "I'm agin you fellers, but by God! I b'lieve in a square game. If I kin git my paw on that houn'"--