“Crofts, eh?” he exclaimed. “Say, we will fight this thing. If Crofts has been up here you can depend upon it there is some size to the deal. We will just smash the whole crooked gang for the good of the town.” “How would you do that?” asked Jake. Sam sat down on a log and looked at the river flowing past the mouth of the ravine. “Just fight,” he said. “Let me show you something.” He took a pencil and slip of paper from his pocket, and, with the voices of the men about the beer kegs in his ears and the red-haired man peering over his shoulder, began writing his first political pamphlet. He wrote and erased and changed words and phrases. The pamphlet was a statement of facts as to the value of water power, and was addressed to the taxpayers of the community. He warmed to the subject, saying that a fortune lay sleeping in the river, and that the town, by the exercise of a little discretion now, could build with that fortune a beautiful city belonging to the people. “This fortune in the river rightly managed will pay the expenses of government and give you control of a great source of revenue forever,” he wrote. “Build your millrace, but look out for a trick of the politicians. They are trying to steal it. Reject the offer of the Chicago banker named Crofts. Demand an investigation. A capitalist has been found who will take the water power bonds at four per cent and back the people in this fight for a free American city.” Across the head of the pamphlet Sam wrote the caption, “A River Paved With Gold,” and handed it to Jake, who read it and whistled softly. “Good!” he said. “I will take this and have it printed. It will make Bill and Ed sit up.” Sam took a twenty-dollar bill from his pocket and gave it to the man. “To pay for the printing,” he said. “And when we have them licked I am the man who will take the four per cent bonds.” Jake scratched his head. “How much do you suppose the deal is worth to Crofts?” “A million, or he would not bother,” Sam answered. Jake folded the paper and put it in his pocket. “This would make Bill and Ed squirm, eh?” he laughed. Going home down the river the men, filled with beer, sang and shouted as the boats, guided by Sam and Jake, floated along. The night fell warm and still and Sam thought he had never seen the sky so filled with stars. His brain was busy with the idea of doing something for the people. “Perhaps here in this town I shall make a start toward what I am after,” he thought, his heart filled with happiness and the songs of the tipsy workmen ringing in his ears. All through the next few weeks there was an air of something astir among the men of Sam’s gang and about Ed’s hotel. During the evening Jake went among the men talking in low tones, and once he took a three days’ vacation, telling Ed that he did not feel well and spending the time among the men employed in the plough works up the river. From time to time he came to Sam for money.