ng the crowd and grumbling at the
excitement and bustle of the politicians and hangers-on.

He was something of a power in the political affairs of the State, but
to-night the swarming activity of the candidates for the appointive
offices displeased him mightily. So did the well-organized methods of
one man who wanted to go to Congress--Robert Burroughs. Hall did not
belong to the party in power, although he had been elected from his
county. As he saw Burroughs' friends hobnobbing with the country
legislators he shut his eyes, cursing all men impartially. Like a thorn
in the flesh the memory of Burroughs' trick and the resultant lawsuit
pricked his anger into poisonous hate. Outwardly he showed no enmity,
but revenge would be sweet. To be sure, he had won his suit and
recovered his share of the proceeds from the sale of the mine, but the
cause rankled, and had become a mania, not the less dangerous because it
was nursed secretly.

In the jostling, good-natured throng of senators, representatives, boys
who wanted to be pages, and girls who boldly or coyly tried to interest
unintroduced men in their clerical abilities, Joe Hall saw no one with
whom he cared to speak. Montana was not yet populous enough to make its
leading men unknown to each other, especially the old-timers. As he rose
to go he heard his name spoken, and turned to face a man whom he could
not for the moment place.

"McDevitt!" he finally exclaimed.

"To command," was the fawning response. "May I speak to you for a
moment?"

Hall hesitated; he thought that the man would hardly be seeking an
office at the capital, and he motioned the Canadian to follow. They
passed into a small room reserved for semi-private conversations.

"What shall it be?" he asked as they took seats at a small table.

"Lemonade." McDevitt had never drunk openly. Joe smiled grimly at the
call-boy's amazement. Lemonade was not often called for at that hotel.
Hall's own order was gin.

"Well?"

McDevitt was disconcerted. He had thought to receive a cordial greeting,
forgetting that Joseph Hall had left the North West Mounted Police in
disgrace, and might wish to ignore his past. He hesitated; then, seeing
that there were to be no questionings, he began autobiographically:

"I've been living in Montana for some time. I run a little store. Say,
look here," his voice changed to anxiety as he breathed his desire, "I'm
here looking for a job. I'm no lobbyist, but I want a position