The instruments are arranged on two plain deal tables. In its appearance the room is more like the editorial room of a hustling Western newspaper than the headquarters of a political organization that is aspiring to elect a President of the United States. The floor is bare; obsolete gas fixtures afford the artificial light that is made necessary day and night. The chairs and benches that are scattered about the room, are of the type commonly seen in cheap music halls. There are no ante-rooms, no council chambers and no secret cabinets. A campaign fund of but two hundred and sixty thousand dollars has been raised through the agency of the labor organizations. This comparatively paltry sum is being doled out in niggardly fashion by a finance committee who feel reluctant to part with a single dollar unless assured that it will have a hundred fold its natural effect on the result. There are some causes that do not need money to make them successful, and the people's fight against Plutocracy is one of this kind. It needs only the awakening of the people's interest to make victory certain. The surest way of gaining the public ear is by sending out speakers. There is no dearth in the supply of brilliant orators who offer their services. They foresee that the crucial test is to be given the Institution of Popular Government and they wisely align themselves on the side of the people. No stream of Millionaires comes to the Independence Party's Headquarters; no line of retainers Stand with open hands to receive the funds of fraud; there is as sharp a contrast between the two headquarters as there is between the platforms and candidates of the parties. Harvey Trueman is the guiding spirit at Drover's Hall. It is Tuesday, a month before election. He visits the Hall for the last time before the verdict of the people shall be recorded. "I am going to New York to-night," he tells his friend Maxwell, the Chairman of the Speakers' Committee. "You had better notify the leaders all along the line that I am prepared to make short speeches at every available place." "Have you made arrangements with the railroads?" asks Maxwell. "It will not be necessary for me to consult with them; I have outlined my route so that I can make connections on one road or another and go through to New York in sixty hours. This will give me time to make twenty short speeches." "When do you reach New York city?" "Friday night. It will be about seven o'clock. I want you to arrange for a meeting in Madison Square Garden. It may cost us two thousand dollars, but it will be money well spent." "We cannot get the Garden; not if we offered five thousand dollars. It has been leased for three months straight by the Plutocrats," Maxwell replies. "Then get the New York Committee to obtain a permit for an out-door meeting. I will speak to twenty thousand people in New York on Friday if I have to address them from a house-top."