He had so far freed himself of his habitual indifference that he was displaying an unheard-of energy in promoting Kenyon's interest. Of course he expected to derive certain very substantial benefits from the alliance. The Congressman had made him endless promises, and Ryder saw, or thought he saw, his way clear to leave Antioch in the near future. For two days he had been saying, “Mr. Brown, shake hands with Congressman Kenyon,” or, “Mr. Jones, I want you to know Congressman Kenyon, the man we must keep at Washington.” He had marvelled at the speed with which the statesman got down to first names. He had also shown a positive instinct as to whom he should invite to make the trip across the alley to the Red Star, and whom not. Mr. Kenyon said, modestly, when Griff commented on this, that his methods were modern--they were certainly vulgar. “I guess I'm going to give 'em a run for their money, Ryder. I can see I'm doing good work here. There's nothing like being on the ground yourself.” It was characteristic of him that he should ignore the work Ryder had done in his behalf. “You are an inspiration, Sam. The people know their leader,” said the editor, genially, but with a touch of sarcasm that was lost on Kenyon, who took himself quite seriously. “Yes, sir, they'd 'a' done me dirt,” feelingly, “but I am on my own range now, and ready to pull off my coat and fight for what's due me.” They were seated before the open door which looked out upon the square. Kenyon was chewing nervously at the end of an unlit cigar, which he held between his fingers. “When the nomination is made I guess the other fellow will discover I 'ain't been letting the grass grow in my path.” He spat out over the door-sill into the street. “What's that you were just telling me about the Huckleberry?” “This new manager of Cornish's is going to make the road pay, and he's going to do it from the pockets of the employés,” said Ryder, with a disgruntled air, for the memory of his interview with Dan still rankled. “That ain't bad, either. You know the Governor's pretty close to Cornish. The general was a big contributor to his campaign fund.” Ryder hitched his chair nearer his companion's. “If there's a cut in wages at the shops--and I suppose that will be the next move--there's bound to be a lot of bad feeling.” “Well, don't forget we are for the people.” remarked the Congressman, and he winked slyly. Ryder smiled cynically. “I sha'n't. I have it in for the manager, anyhow.” “What's wrong with him?” “Oh, nothing, but a whole lot,” answered Griff, with apparent indifference. At this juncture Dr. Emory crossed the square from the post-office and paused in front of the _Herald_ building. “How's Dr. Emory?” said Kenyon, by way of greeting. Ryder had risen. “Won't you come in and sit down, doctor?” he inquired. “No, no. Keep your seat, Griff. I merely strolled over to say how d'ye do?”