fight.

Sylvester elbowed his way to the front, his followers at his back.

"I move, Mr. Chairman, that the check-list be dispensed with. It ain't
ever been used in this caucus, anyway. And I'm in favor of hustling this
thing so that we can all get up there and fight that fire. I don't
believe in staying here caucusing, and let folks' property burn up."

The opposition howled their wrath. They understood all the hypocrisy of
this bland assertion, but protest amounted to nothing. The voters were
behind Sylvester. That gentleman promptly put in nomination the name of
Harlan Thornton for representative to the legislature from the Canibas
class of towns and plantations, and the choice was affirmed by a yell
that made the protesting chorus seem only a feeble chirp. And then the
caucus adjourned tumultuously.

Through it all Thelismer Thornton stood with shoulders against the
boarding, that quizzical half-smile on his face. He walked out of the
hall past the outraged Ivus Niles without losing that smile, though the
demagogue followed him to the door with frantic threats and taunts.

The meeting-house bell still chattered its alarm, an excited ringer
rolling the wheel over and over.

Chairman Presson, who had found speech inadequate for some time,
followed the Duke to the stairway outside, and stood beside him, gazing
up at the conflagration. Smoke masked the hills. Fire-flashes, pallid in
the afternoon light, shot up here and there in the yellow billows
rolling nearest the ground.

"I tell you, Thelismer, you'll never get across with this! It's too
devilish rank!"

Elder Dudley marched past, leading the last stragglers of his following
from the hall. His face was flushed with passion, but he had neither
word nor look for the Duke. Even Niles was silent, bringing up the rear
of the retreat, pumped dry of invective.

"You'll be up against Dudley, there, at the polls, running on an
independent ticket. He's sure to do it!" went on Presson, watching them
out of sight.

"You don't know the district," said Thornton, serenely. "And what's more
important, I've got almost three months to meet that possibility in. I
had only three hours to-day. You needn't worry about the election,
Luke."

With his eyes still on the seething smoke vomiting up from the Jo Quacca
hills he lighted a fresh cigar.

"There's something up there that's worrying me more. Cobb has got fire
enough to break up a State convention."

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