"We shall follow the wishes of our fellow-citizens," said Parks, with a nod of mystery, importing designs that could not be revealed until the moment of execution. "But the first thing is to have the speeches delivered, and we are away behind time. The meeting ought to have been called to order twenty minutes ago, but the procession is late, of course. I never knew one that wasn’t." And he looked irritably into Market Street, and made some unfavorable comments on the marshals of the parade. "Here it comes now!" exclaimed another member of the group, as a blare of horns, the thump of a drum and a confused sound of cheering disturbed the air. The procession soon came into sight as it advanced up Market Street and turned into the sand-lots. At its head marched a brass band, and scattered here and there in the trailing line were a few hundred torches--spoil from the election campaign of the preceding year. While the attention of all was fixed on the manoeuvers of the marching clubs, I felt my sleeve plucked, and turned to find Clark beside me. Without looking at me he slipped a piece of paper into my hand, and moved away. I held the paper under one of the gasoline torches, and read: Some mischief ahead. Jim Morgan has been hiring men. Had 20 or 30 young fellows cooped up near hdqrs. this p.m. They are marching up with the clubs. I puzzled for a little over the particular variety of mischief that was imported by this activity of Bolton’s agent, and then stepping behind Clark, said: "Keep as close to the gang as you can. If you find out what they are up to, bring me word at once. I’ll be on the platform here." Without appearing to notice me, Clark gave a signal that he understood, and as he moved away Parks tapped me on the shoulder. "Here! We must start this thing now," he said. "We’re over half an hour late. Come up on the platform. Where in the name of Halifax can Kearney be? He hasn’t come up with the clubs, and he hasn’t sent any word." I suggested the theory of sickness. "He’s sick of the job--that’s my opinion," said Parks savagely. "He’s full of fighting talk when there’s no trouble in sight, but when there’s a chance to strike a blow for the people, he’s for hanging back. He hasn’t had any ginger in his talk about this meeting. You heard him last night. He was about as warm as a fish then, and his pulse has been going down ever since. Well, we can’t wait any longer, so here goes." And pushing to the front of the platform, he pounded on an improvised desk and called for order. It was by the eye rather than by the ear that he caught the attention of the throng, for in the babel of amateur oratory that filled the square, his voice was lost. But at his appeals, silence spread in concentric rings about the platform, until the arguing groups melted into the mass of humanity that pressed toward the speakers’ stand.