“All right!” shouted Conover in glorious excitement, signalling to the struggling groom to release the bit. “All right! Let him go! Never mind the hat. Come on, Giles.” Dunderberg, his head freed, leaped forward as from a catapult. Master and man thundered away down the drive, and were swallowed in the blackness. The double roar of flying hoofs grew fainter, then was lost in the solemn hush of the autumn night. CHAPTER XV DUNDERBERG SOLVES THE DIFFICULTY Clive Standish had spent the evening at the Civic League headquarters, awaiting reports of the day’s battle. The rooms were full of the League’s minor candidates and officials, with a fair sprinkling of women. Anice Lanier, chaperoned by her aunt, with whom she now lived, was there, her high color and the light in her big eyes alone betraying the fearful suspense under which she labored. The belated returns, which should have been telegraphed at once to the League headquarters, were still further delayed by the fact that the one wire now running into town had been preëmpted by Conover. Hence, it was not until well after one o’clock that Clive received definite news of his own election. Throngs of friends and supporters had, on receipt of the final figures, flocked about him with congratulations and good wishes. To all he had given seeming heed, yet among the crush he saw but one face, read in one pair of brown eyes the praise and infinite gladness he sought. And as soon as he could he departed with Anice and her aunt for the latter’s home, where a little _souper à trois_ was to celebrate the victory. They formed a jolly trio about the dainty supper table. Late as it was, all were far too excited to feel sleepy or wish to curtail by one minute the little feast of triumph. “To the next Governor of the Mountain State!” proclaimed Anice solemnly, as she lifted her glass. “To be drunk standing, and with—No, no, Clive,” she reproved as the Governor-elect also rose. “_You_ mustn’t drink it. It’s——” “I’m not going to,” retorted Standish indignantly. “I’m getting up to look for a dictionary.” “But what on earth——” “I want to find the feminine for Governor. And——” A whirr of the telephone bell broke in on his explanation. “Some stupid political message for you,” hazarded Anice, taking down the receiver. “Yes, this is 318 R. Yes. Yes, this is Miss La—Oh!” with a changed intonation, “Mrs. Conover?” A longer pause. Then Anice gave a little exclamation of sympathy, listened a moment and said: “Yes, we will come at once. But I hope you’ll find it’s not as bad as you think. Don’t break down. I’m sure it will be all right.” “What is it?” asked Clive and her aunt in a breath.