Harley flushed at his patronizing tone, and for a moment he was tempted to thrust him out of his way and proceed with his errand to Jimmy Grayson's room, but he reflected that it was better to let the committeeman make the rope for his own hanging, and he turned away with a quiet, "Very well, I shall forego the interview." But as he went back down the stairs he could not help asking himself the question, "Does Jimmy Grayson know? Could he have consented to such an arrangement?" and at once came the answer--"Impossible." He returned to the porch, where all the chairs were filled, although the talk was slow. He noticed, with pleasure, that Churchill was absent. The descending sun had just touched the crests of the distant mountains, and they swam in a tremulous golden glow. The sunset radiance over nature in her mighty aspects affected all on the porch, used as they were to it, and that was why they were silent. But they turned inquiring eyes upon Harley when he joined them. "What has become of Heathcote?" asked Barton. "He is engaged upon an important task just now," replied Harley. "And what is that?" "He is editing Jimmy Grayson's speech." Twenty chairs came down with a crash, and twenty pairs of eyes stared in indignant astonishment. "King" Plummer's effort to hold himself in his chair seemed to be a strain. "He may not be doing that particular thing at this particular moment," continued Harley, "but he told me very distinctly that he was here for that purpose, and he has also just told me that I could not see Jimmy Grayson, that he intended henceforth to act as an intermediary between the candidate and the press." "And you stood it?" exclaimed Hobart. "For the present, yes," replied Harley, evenly; "and I did so because I thought I saw a better way out of the trouble than an immediate quarrel with Heathcote--a better way, above all, for Jimmy Grayson and the party." The Western men said nothing, though they looked their deep disgust, and presently they quitted the porch, leaving it, rocking-chairs and all, to the correspondents. "Boys," said Harley, earnestly, "I've a request to make of you. Let me take the lead in this affair; I've a plan that I think will work." "Well, you are in a measure the chief of our corps," said Warrener, one of the Chicago men. "I don't know why you are, but all of us have got to looking on you in that way." "I, for one, promise to be good and obey," said Hobart, "but I won't deny that it will be a hard job. Perhaps I could stand the man, if it were not for his accent--it sounds to me as if his voice were coming out of the top of his head, instead of his chest, where a good, honest voice ought to have its home." "Now you listen," said Harley, "and I will my tale unfold." Then they put their heads together and talked long and earnestly.