To all practical intents and purposes he was holding there on the porch of "The Barracks" the next State convention of the Republican party. The birds were busy about the old blockhouse opposite, coming and going. He seemed to be studying their movements through his half-open eyes, as though they were prospective delegates. And at last a grim smile of satisfaction fixed itself upon his face. His grandson found him in this amiable mood when he came with the losers by the Jo Quacca fire. Each man submitted his list rather defiantly. They sat down and scowled while Harlan told what he had discovered in his investigation of the circumstances. "I have not tried to beat them down," he concluded. "I even reminded them of a few items they had overlooked. What happened yesterday was enough to make almost any man forget things." He was inclined to be a little defiant, too, fighting the battles of the property owners, even though his own pocket must suffer by the settlement. But the Duke preserved his unruffled demeanor. He slowly made some figures on the bottoms of the papers and passed the sheets to his grandson. "Fill in the checks and bring them out here and I'll sign 'em," he directed. And as Harlan bent over him, he whispered: "You're playing good politics now, boy. Stand up for the under dog. I see you're remembering that you're a candidate." "I'm only doing what's right," protested the young man. "When you can be right and still play politics, you're getting ahead fast," murmured the Duke. "Fill in the checks!" "But you've increased their own appraisal! You're giving them more than they've asked for!" Harlan was careless of the presence of the three farmers. "Well, wasn't it your own suggestion that we use these men right?" demanded his grandfather. He gazed benignantly on the claimants. "I'm square, myself, when it comes to my debts, boys. You all know that. But Harlan argued your case last night in a way that's worth the extra money. If he can do that here at home, first crack out of the box, when it's our own money at stake, don't you think he'll do a pretty good job for you down at the State House, where it'll be a case of the public money?" His grandson had gone into the house. He had found himself at a loss for words, suddenly. "Harlan is as straight as a stilya'd, and allus has been," admitted one of the men, gratefully. He was wondering how much the Duke had added to the amount. "All of you think now that a fellow like that will make a pretty good sort of a representative, don't you?" They muttered assent. "Well, why did you back-district chaps come in here yesterday and try to lick him in the caucus?" They had no answer ready. They looked at the porch floor, and rasped their hard hands together and cracked their knuckles in embarrassment. The old man kept his complacency.