“In 1906, Mark Smith, a voteless delegate to Congress from Arizona, told this story: ‘Once,’ commented Smith, ‘a couple of my friends were riding through a desolate bit of country in Arizona near the Mexican border. Presently they came upon a man who was hanging by the neck from the limb of a tree. A couple of buzzards were roosting above him, but they made no attack upon him. My friends drove away the buzzards and discovered on the breast of the dead man a placard bearing these words: “_This was a very bad man in some respects and a damn sight worse in others._“ “‘My friends accounted for the moderation of the buzzards on the theory that they had read the placard.’ “That was all Smith had to say, but it was assumed that he agreed with the opinion of the other men about the subject of their discussion. Well, I beg to say of science that it is very bad in some respects, and a damn sight worse in others, and its present conclusion in regard to the Isthmus of Panama is one of the latter.” The audience, long before this denoument to the Senator’s retort was reached, had arisen; the President had arisen also, and stood with his back to the stage, facing the Senator, steadily growing more unrestrained and angry. Leacraft and Dr. M-- were half standing, their hands supporting them on the backs of the chairs of the men in front of them. The scene was interesting, and the first movement toward repression of the Senator succumbed to curiosity, and in all directions, the intelligent faces about them were variously disturbed by symptoms of vexation or amusement. It was uncommonly entertaining. Mr. Binn and Dr. Smith, with becoming smiles of moderation, were drawn to the front of the platform, and no one, after the Senator had swung into the torrential flow of his remonstrance, thought of anything else but to catch, almost breathlessly, his words. When he concluded, a wave of laughter, genuine, but a little nervous, went through the assembly. Then the President stepped to the aisle, turned a moment to shake the hand of the lecturer, and offer him his congratulations, and bowed to Dr. Smith. In an instant the aisle way was clear. The President moved on between the applauding people, and as he came opposite Senator Tillman, who had himself pressed toward the egress, as if to intercept him he stopped. There was a quick, instinctive restraint. Everyone waited for his word. “Senator Tillman,” the President spoke with sharp emphasis, “I thank you for restoring our spirits. I remember Mark Smith. I remember he took my advice in accepting the Statehood Bill. You may have misapplied his story, but you have at least furnished us with a novel reason for encouragement.” Again the applause broke out, and the President disappeared, the audience decorously dispersed and followed him, and Leacraft and Dr. M-- soon found themselves on Pennsylvania avenue, walking rapidly and silently. CHAPTER III. BALTIMORE, MAY 29, 1909.