“Oh, all right, Mr. Moderator! I'll keep order all right. But I say to you, Lem, and you, Joe Dimick, that I know who put these smart notions into your heads. We all know, unless we're born fools. Who is it that's been sayin' the Honorable Heman Atkins was shirkin' that appropriation? Who was it said if HE was representative the thing would have gone through afore this? Who's been makin' his brags that he could get it through if he had the chance? You know who! So do I! I wish he was here. I only wish he was here! I'd say it to his face.” “Well, he is. Heave ahead and say it.” Everyone turned toward the door. Captain Cy had entered the hall. He was standing in the aisle, and with him was Bailey Bangs. The captain looked very tired, almost worn out, but he nodded coolly to Mr. Simpson, who had retired to his seat with surprising quickness and apparent discomfiture. “Here I am, Tad,” continued the captain. “Say your piece.” But Tad, it appeared, was not anxious to “say his piece.” He was whispering earnestly with a group of his followers. Captain Cy held up his hand. “Mr. Moderator,” he asked, “can I have the floor a minute? All I want to say is that I cal'late I'm the feller the last speaker had reference to. I HAVE said that I didn't see why that appropriation was so hard to get. I say it again. Other appropriations are got, and why not ours? I DID say if I was a congressman I'd get it. Yes, and I'll say more,” he added, raising his voice, “I'll say that if I was sent to Washin'ton by this town, congressman or not, I'd move heaven and earth, and all creation from the President down till I did get it. That's all. So would any live man, I should think.” He sat down. There was some applause. Before it had subsided Abel Leonard, one of the quickest-witted of Mr. Simpson's workers, was on his feet, gesticulating for attention. “Mr. Moderator,” he shouted, “I want to make a motion. We've all heard the big talk that's been made. All right, then! I move you, sir, that Captain Cyrus Whittaker be appointed a committee of one to GO to Washin'ton, if he wants to, or anywheres else, and see that we get the appropriation. And if we don't get it the blame's his! There, now!” There was a roar of laughter. This was exactly the sort of “tit-for-tat” humor that appeals to a Yankee crowd. The motion was seconded half a dozen times. Moderator Knowles grinned and shook his head. “A joke's a joke,” he said, “and we all like a good one. However, this meetin' is supposed to be for business, not fun, so--” “Question! Question! It's been seconded! We've got to vote on it!” shouted a chorus. “Don't you think--seems to me that ain't in order,” began the moderator, but Captain Cy rose to his feet. The grim smile had returned to his face and he looked at the joyous assemblage with almost his old expression of appreciative alertness.