That was, indeed, a wild winter at the state capital,--a "carnival of corruption," the newspapers of other states called it. One of the first of the "black bills" to go through was a disguised street railway grab, out of which Senator Croffut got a handsome "counsel fee" of fifty-odd thousand dollars. But as the rout went on, ever more audaciously and recklessly, he became uneasy. In mid-February he was urging me to go West and try to do something to "curb those infernal grabbers." I refused to interfere. He went himself, and Woodruff reported to me that he was running round the state house and the hotels like a crazy man; for when he got into the thick of it, he realized that it was much worse than it seemed from Washington. In a few days he was back and at me again. "It's very strange," said he suspiciously. "The boys say they're getting nothing out of it. They declare they're simply obeying orders." "Whose orders?" I asked. "I don't know," he answered, his eyes sharply upon me. "But I do know that, unless something is done, I'll not be returned to the Senate. We'll lose the legislature, sure, next fall." "It does look that way," I said with a touch of melancholy. "That street railway grab was the beginning of our rake's progress. We've been going it, hell bent, ever since." He tossed his handsome head and was about to launch into an angry defense of himself. But my manner checked him. He began to plead. "_You_ can stop it, Sayler. Everybody out there says you can. And, if I am reelected, I've got a good chance for the presidential nomination. Should I get it and be elected, we could form a combination that would interest you, I think." It was a beautiful irony that in his conceit he should give as his reason why I should help him the very reason why I was not sorry he was to be beaten. For, although he was not dangerous, still he was a rival public figure to Burbank in our state, and,--well, accidents sometimes happen, unless they're guarded against. "What shall I do?" I asked him. "Stop them from passing any more black bills. Why, they've got half a dozen ready, some of them worse even than the two they passed over Burbank's veto, a week ago." "For instance?" He cited three Power Trust bills. "But why don't _you_ stop those three?" said I. "They're under the special patronage of Dominick. You have influence with him." "Dominick!" he groaned. "Are you sure?" And when I nodded emphatically, he went on: "I'll do what I can, but--" He threw up his hands. He was off for the West that night. When he returned, his face wore the look of doom. He had always posed for the benefit of the galleries, especially the women in the galleries. But now he became sloven in dress, often issued forth unshaven, and sat sprawled at his desk in the Senate, his chin on his shirt bosom, looking vague and starting when any one spoke to him.