“You are talking about the dead past, Gaston. I’m surprised at a man of your brain living under such a delusion. How can there be Negro supremacy when they are in a minority?” “Supremacy under a party system is always held by a minority. The dominant faction of a party rules the party, and the successful party rules the state. If the Negro only numbered one-fifth the population and they all belonged to one party, they could dictate the policy of that party.” “You know that a few white brains really rule that black mob.” “Yes, but the black mob defines the limits within which you live and have your being.” “Gaston, the time has come to shake off this nightmare, and face the issues of our day and generation. We are going to win in this campaign, but I want you. I like you. You are the kind of man we need now to take the field and lead in this campaign.” “How are you going to win?” “We are going to form a contract with the Farmer’s Alliance and break the backbone of the Bourbon Democracy of the South. The farmers have now a compact body of 50,000 voters, thoroughly organised, and combined with the negro vote we can hold this state until Gabriel blows his trumpet.” “That’s a pretty scheme. Our farmers are crazy now with all sorts of fool ideas,” said Gaston thoughtfully. “Exactly, my boy, and we’ve got them by the nose.” “If you can carry through that programme, you’ve got us in a hole.” “In a hole? I should say we’ve got you in the bottomless pit with the lid bolted down. You ’ll not even rise at the day of judgment. It won’t be necessary!” laughed McLeod, and as he laughed changed his tone in the midst of his laughter. “And what is the great proposition you have to make to me?” asked Gaston. “Join with us in this new coalition, and stump the state for us. Your fortune will be made, win or lose. I ’ll see that the National Republican Committee pays you a thousand dollars a week for your speeches, at least five a week, two hundred dollars apiece. If we lose, you will make ten thousand dollars in the canvass, and stand in line for a good office under the National Administration. If we win, I ’ll put you in the Governor’s Palace for four years. There’s a tide in the affairs of men, you know. It’s at the flood at this moment for you.” Gaston was silent a moment and looked thoughtfully out of the window. The offer was a tremendous temptation. A group of old fogies had dominated the Democratic party for ten years, and had kept the younger men down with their war cries and old soldier candidates, until he had been more than once disgusted. He felt as sure of McLeod’s success as if he already saw it. It was precisely the movement he had warned the old pudding-head set against in the preceding campaign in which they had deliberately alienated the Farmer’s Alliance. They had pooh poohed his warning and blundered on to their ruin.