and
now he threw the leg back, kicked for his stirrup twice, spat once, and
turned his horse's head.

"I reckon you will, stranger," he said sadly, "with that gift o' gab
o' yourn." He turned without another word or nod of good-by and started
back up the creek whence he had come.

"One gone," said the Hon. Samuel Budd grimly, "and I swear I'm right
sorry for him." And so was I.

An hour later we struck the river, and another hour upstream brought
us to where the contest of tongues was to come about. No sylvan dell
in Arcady could have been lovelier than the spot. Above the road, a big
spring poured a clear little stream over shining pebbles into the river;
above it the bushes hung thick with autumn leaves, and above them stood
yellow beeches like pillars of pale fire. On both sides of the road sat
and squatted the honest voters, sour-looking, disgruntled--a distinctly
hostile crowd. The Blight and my little sister drew great and curious
attention as they sat on a bowlder above the spring while I went with
the Hon. Samuel Budd under the guidance of Uncle Tommie Hendricks, who
introduced him right and left. The Hon. Samuel was cheery, but he was
plainly nervous. There were two lanky youths whose names, oddly enough,
were Budd. As they gave him their huge paws in lifeless fashion, the
Hon. Samuel slapped one on the shoulder, with the true democracy of the
politician, and said jocosely:

"Well, we Budds may not be what you call great people, but, thank God,
none of us have ever been in the penitentiary," and he laughed loudly,
thinking that he had scored a great and jolly point. The two young men
looked exceedingly grave and Uncle Tommie panic-stricken. He plucked the
Hon. Sam by the sleeve and led him aside:

"I reckon you made a leetle mistake thar. Them two fellers' daddy died
in the penitentiary last spring." The Hon. Sam whistled mournfully,
but he looked game enough when his opponent rose to speak--Uncle Josh
Barton, who had short, thick, upright hair, little sharp eyes, and a
rasping voice. Uncle Josh wasted no time:

"Feller-citizens," he shouted, "this man is a lawyer--he's a corporation
lawyer"; the fearful name--pronounced "lie-yer"--rang through the crowd
like a trumpet, and like lightning the Hon. Sam was on his feet.

"The man who says that is a liar," he said calmly, "and I demand your
authority for the statement. If you won't give it--I shall hold you
personally responsible, sir."

It was a strike