“Wait till we get ready for ’em,” counselled Leech. “We’ll bring their pride down. We’ll be more than a match for the whole tribe. Wait till I get in the Legislature; I’ll pass some laws that will settle ’em.” His blue eyes were glistening and he was opening his hands and shutting them tightly in a way he had, as if he were crushing something in his palms. “That’s it—that’s it,” said Still, eagerly. CHAPTER XVIII LEECH AS A STATESMAN AND DR. CARY AS A COLLECTOR OF BILLS When Leech arrived at the capital in the capacity of statesman he found the field even better than he had anticipated. It was a strange assembly that was gathered together to reconstruct and make laws for a great State after years of revolution. The large majority were negroes who, a few years before, had been barbers, porters in hotels, cart-drivers, or body-servants, with a few new-comers to the State, like Leech himself: nomadic adventurers, who, on account of the smallness of their personal belongings, were termed “carpet-baggers.” Besides these, a few whites who, in hope of gain, had allied themselves with the new-comers; and a small sprinkling of the old residents, who had either been Union men or had had their disabilities removed, and represented constituencies where there were few negroes. They were as distinguishable as statues in the midst of a mob. But the multitude of negroes who crowded the Assembly halls gave the majority an appearance of being overwhelming. They filled the porticos and vestibules, and thronged the corridors and galleries in a dense mass, revelling in their newly acquired privileges. The air was heavy with the smoke of bad cigars, which, however, was not wholly without use, as the scent of the tobacco served at least one good purpose; the floors were slippery with tobacco-juice. The crowd was loud, pompous, and good-natured. Leech looked with curiosity on the curious spectacle. He had had no idea what a useful band of coadjutors he would have. He took a survey of the field and made his calculations quickly and with shrewdness. He would be a leader. “Looks like a corn-shuckin’,” said Still, who had accompanied his friend to the capital to see him take his seat. “A good head-man could get a heap of corn shucked.” “Does look a little like a checker-board,” assented Leech, “and I mean to be one of the kings. It’s keep ahead or get run over in this crowd, and I’m smart as any of ’em. There’s a good cow to milk, and the one as milks her first will get the cream.” His metaphors were becoming bucolic, as befitted a man who was beginning to set up as a planter. “The cream’s in the drippin’s,” corrected Still. “Not of this cow,” said Leech.