spicious farmers of the county. Year after year
they saw these gentlemen building new houses, opening banks, and buying
in farm mortgages "all out of the county," many grangers asserted.

Year after year the convention assembled, and year after year the
delegates from the rural townships came down to find their duties
purely perfunctory, simply to fill up the seats. They always found the
slate made up and fine speakers ready to put it through with a rush of
ready applause, before which the slower-spoken, disorganized farmers
were well-nigh helpless. It was a case of perfect organization against
disorganization and mutual distrust. Banded officialism fighting to
keep its place against the demands of a disorganized righteous mob of
citizens. Office is always a trained command. The intrenched minority
is capable of a sort of rock-like resistance.

Rock River and its neighboring village of Cedarville, by pooling
together could tie the convention, and in addition to these towns they
always controlled several of the outlying townships by judicious
flattery of their self-constituted managers, who were given small
favors, put on the central committee, and otherwise made to feel that
they were leading men in the township; and it was beginning to be
stated that the county treasurer had regularly bribed other influential
whippers-in, by an amiable remission of taxes.

"Why don't you fight 'em?" asked Milton, after Mr. Jennings had covered
the whole ground thoroughly.

Councill laughed. "We've been a-fightin' um; suppose you try."

"Give us a chance, and we'll do our part. Won't we, Brad?"

Bradley nodded, and so committed himself to the fight. He was fated to
begin his political career as an Independent Republican.

On the street they met other leading grangers of the county, and it
became evident that there was a deep feeling of resentment present.
They gathered in knots on the sidewalks which led up under the splendid
maples that lined the sidewalks leading toward the court-house.

The court-house was of the usual pseudo-classic style of architecture,
that is to say, it was a brick building with an ambitious facade of
four wooden fluted columns. Its halls echoed to the voices and
footsteps of the crowd that passed up its broad, worn and grimy steps
into the court-room itself, which was grimier and more hopelessly
filthy than the staircase with its stratified accumulations of cigar
stubs and foul sawdust. Its seats were b