Knowing the power of Speaking Henry’s lungs the Dockery delegates began to yell “Covington,” “Covington,” “speech,” but in the meantime the Wilmington negro, the Russell chairman, had been deprived of his seat by force. Mr. Long held his with a brace of Colts. I want the reader to understand that the fight then in progress was none of my affair. To tell the whole truth I did look on with considerable satisfaction until I saw two or three men produce pistols; from that time I had one eye on the convention and the other looking for a way to escape. Every fighting man was coming to the rostrum, throwing nervous delegates out of the way as he advanced. Rich Lilly brought first blood. The calls for Henry Covington, the supple man with the oily tongue, were heeded by that gentleman, who was just as fearless as wordy, and while others glared and swore at each other he was making the welkin ring with Dockery thunder. No man ever made more gestures and took longer strides than did Speaking Henry that afternoon. With a quart of mean liquor in his stomach and a cigarette in his mouth, Rich Lilly, the warmest Dockeryite of them all, pranced behind Mr. Covington, following him with his hands and feet as far as he could without injuring himself. Seeing this double-barreled performance I lost sight of the free-for-all fight on the opposite side of the stage. It wasn’t what Mr. Covington said but the way he said it that attracted. Except for the difference in color one would have taken Speaking Henry and Rich Lilly for the Gold Dust twins. “Tell it to ’em!” shouted Rich, every time he hit the floor. “Yes, Lawd, let ’em have it. Dere ain’t no candi-date but Col. Duckery!” Tiring of this, a Russell man in the back section of the hall roared out: “Five dollars for the man who will pull that long-legged devil down from there.” No sooner had the offer been made than did a short, stocky, big-headed negro, with a Van Dyke beard, start from the fifth row of seats toward the stand to catch Covington by the leg. I mounted my chair to see. Having the advantage of the pedestal I could take in everything. Speaking Henry had charged and jumped and squatted and bounced until his trousers, all too short, had climbed nearly to his knees and his heavy home-knit socks had fallen over his shoe tops. He was about ready to fly when the designing negro reached out for his thin, bare shank.