ve been he that gave
the orders and Rawson who jumped to execute them. Now he had slipped
back to second place.

He caught Jeff on the line and repeated Rawson's orders without comment
of his own, after which he went back from the committee room, gathered
up Reilly and Ashton, and took them on a pretext to the library.

It must have been nearly an hour later that a messenger boy handed James
a note. It was a hasty scribble from Rawson.

Euchred, by thunder! Both Jeff and I missed them. Big Tim butted in with
a car at Grover Street before we could make connections. Am waiting
at the House for them. Don't bring A. & R. in till time to vote. FROME
CAN'T WIN IF YOU MAKE THEM BOTH STICK.

James stuck the note in his pocket and flung himself with artificial
animation into the story he was telling. Once or twice the others
suggested a return to the House, but he always had just one more good
story they must hear. Since only routine business was under way there
was no urgency, and when at length they returned to the House chamber
the clock pointed to five minutes to twelve.

Rawson and two or three of the staunchest Hardy men relieved Farnum of
his charge in the cloak room and took care of the two doubtfuls. The
seats of Bentley, Miller, Pitts and Killen were still vacant, and there
was a tense watchfulness in the room that showed rumors were flying of a
break in the deadlock.

Already the state senators were drifting in for the noon joint sessions,
and along with them came presently the missing assemblymen flanked by
O'Brien and Frome adherents.

The President of the Senate called the session to order and announced
that the eleventh general assembly would now proceed to take the
sixty-fourth ballot for the election of a United States Senator.

In an oppressive silence the clerk began to call the roll.

"Allan."

A raw-boned farmer from one of the coast counties rose and answered
"Hardy."

"Anderson."

In broken English a fat Swede shouted, "Harty."

"Ashton."

"Hardy." The word fell hesitantly from dry lips. The man would have
voted for the Transcontinental candidate had he dared, but he was not
sure enough that the crucial moment was at hand and the pressure of his
environment was too great.

"Bentley."

Three hundred eyes focused expectantly on the gaunt white-faced
legislator who rose nervously at the sound of his name and almost
inaudibly gulped the word "Frome."

A fierce tumult of rage and triumph