is to prevent a
repetition of our history, now that another crisis has to be faced? Of
the committee there are few who do not feel assured that Trueman will be
capable of fulfilling the duties of the office to which they seek to
elevate him; they are not certain, however, that they can secure the
nomination for him.

Trueman is hopeful; yet he cannot drive from his mind the rumors of
disloyalty that are constantly brought to him.

In the minds of the Plutocrats it seems utterly impossible for Trueman
to even obtain the vice-presidential nomination. It never occurs to them
to regard him as a probable candidate for the higher office. Nevins,
alone of all men, is confident of the result of the morrow.

CHAPTER XV.

CHOOSING A LEADER.

Chicago, the city of immeasurable possibilities, the twice risen
Phoenix, scene of the fairyland of 1893, when the wonders of the world
were assembled for the fleeting admiration of man, is the arena in which
a battle is to be waged that shall be remembered when the other events
that add to the fame of the municipality shall have passed into
oblivion.

To the citizens of Chicago a convention has come to be regarded as an
every-day occurrence. If it is not a convention of one of the great
parties, then some lesser body is in session; always some band of
delegates is reported as either arriving in or departing from the city.
There had been little stir when the Plutocratic convention was in
progress three weeks before. The result of the proceedings was
foreordained.

But with the convening of the delegates of the Independence Party the
apathy of the people gives way to intense interest. They realize that at
least there will be a lively contest over the choice of a leading
candidate.

Political forecasters have been chary of expressing opinions, for the
much depended on precedent is lacking. Here is a new party, which is to
make its second appeal to the people. Where its strength will lay, whom
it will select to be the standard-bearer of its radical platform, these
are questions that baffle the most astute observers.

The morning of the opening session of the convention finds the vast
auditorium of the Music Hall where the meetings are to be held, crowded
with spectators. It is impossible for one-tenth of those present to hear
the speakers; they come not to hear so much as to breathe the surcharged
air of the political storm which it is known will be fostered. The thin
blood