The delegations gathering in little groups were polled amid a hum of busy interest. Bailey had seated himself and looked with sleepy unconcern down on the mass of men, tearing up their little slips of paper and dropping them in the black slouch hats of southern Illinois. Once he moved, and beckoned to him a man from his own delegation, and cast his ballot with the Mason fellows. At last the hats were reposing between knees, the ballots were counted. Bailey slowly arose. "Have you all voted?" he asked. The silence acquiesced. "The secretary--will call--the roll--of the counties." And then intensity hung again in the air. Hale called off the names of the counties. "DeWitt?" "Eighteen votes No!" "Logan?" "Thirteen votes Aye, eleven votes No." The Sprague men clapped their hands. "Mason?" "Eighteen votes _Aye!_!" Randolph turned and knit his brows. Then he smiled again. He was keeping tab on his knee. "Moultrie?" "Fifteen--N-o-o!" "Piatt?" "Fifteen votes No!" "Polk?" The silence was absolute. Rankin and Pusey had been wrangling. Pusey announced the vote. "Twenty-two Yeas and twenty-three Nays." There was cheering from the Sprague men and the gavel cracked. "Tazewell?" "Thirty votes--_Aye!_" shouted Carlin, one of Joe Hale's men, drawing out the affirmative unctuously. He was thinking of Joe's job. Then, while the convention awaited the result, Hale figured painfully. Rankin stepped up to help him. The Sprague men howled an objection and Randolph advanced to a place near the secretary. But Hale figured under the shelter of his palm. When he had done, he handed the slip up to the chairman. Bailey examined it attentively an instant, a long instant, then the convention grew impatient and cried: "Give it to us! Give it to us!" Bailey waited, again studying the slip. And at last, holding it in his fingers, he said: "On this vote--the Yeas aire--eighty-three, and the Nays--aire eighty-two, and the motion--" Randolph was standing in the aisle, his finger poised, his lips apart, his eyes blazing. His face glowed with a delight he could not conceal as he cried: "Mr. Chairman! Mr. Chairman! A point of order!" Bailey paused and looked at him inquiringly. "Well," he said, wearily, "the gentleman--may state--his point of order." Again the silence, again the interest in this fencing between the two parliamentarians. "My point of order, Mr. Chairman, is this:" Randolph kept his forefinger in its parliamentary poise. "The delegation from Mason County cast eighteen votes in the affirmative." Bailey nodded. "And I believe, Mr. Chairman," Randolph went on, taking his time, that he might uncover his point slowly and thus make it the more effective in the end, "that the chair is a member of the Mason County delegation." "The gentleman--is eminently--correct," said Bailey.