Maine -- Fiction; Political fiction; Politicians -- Fiction
"Let me see your warrant, Niles," he requested. The officer passed it
over, with a touch of sudden humility in his demeanor. "I'm only doing
my duty as it's laid out by the statutes," he muttered. He quailed under
the old man's eyes. He did not like the sound of the mumbling at the
windows nor relish the looks of the men who had just come flocking into
the yard at the heels of Sylvester.
"'Twas sworn out and passed to me," stated the sheriff.
"Sworn out on complaint of Tom Willy." He looked above the document and
saw in the doorway the man who had cried information regarding the
liquor in the cellar. "Tom Willy, the cheapest drunkard we've got in the
town, taking sneaking revenge because he has been shut off from
privileges here that decent men haven't abused! But I tell you,
gentlemen, even Tom Willy isn't as cheap as the men who have sneaked
behind him and prodded him on to do this. There's some one behind him,
for Tom Willy hasn't got brains enough nor sprawl enough to do this all
by himself."
He gave the warrant back to the sheriff. He had recovered his
self-possession. He was again their Duke of Fort Canibas, who could
retire with dignity even from such a position as this. "Go ahead and
train with your crowd, Sheriff Niles," he drawled, sarcastically--"Tom
Willy, and whoever they are behind him that are too ashamed to show
themselves!"
He started for the door, Luke Presson at his heels. Aunt Charette, not
exactly understanding, realized that the protecting aegis was departing.
"But I have pay!" she wailed. "You have de power, M'sieu' Thornton! They
take my properties!"
He patted the shiny silk of the old woman's shoulder as he passed her.
"Keep your sitting, Aunt Charette," he advised, "and let them take it.
It will be a good investment for you--leave it to me."
He lighted a fresh cigar out-of-doors.
"Luke," he declared quietly between puffs, "this is developing into
quite a caucus day--take all trimmings. I'm glad you are here to look
on!"
CHAPTER V
A CAUCUS, AS IT WAS PLANNED
The town house of Fort Canibas needed no guide-board that day. All roads
led to it. Thelismer Thornton walked down the main street, his following
at his heels. His hands were behind his back, and he sauntered along
like one who was at peace with the world. His face was serene once more.
He seemed to have recovered all the genial good-nature that men
associated with Thelismer Thornton. The chairman trotted on short legs
at his side, looking up at him sourly. Thornton smiled down at him.
"Finding your old State campaign sicker than you thought for, hey,
Luke?"
He was now as Presson had always known him, but the little man did not
seem to be consoled thereby.
"I'd like to know what's come over you to-day?" he complained. "Giving a
helpless little girl hell-an'-repeat, and then standing for what you did
back there right now!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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