into the blue sky,
Harley and Mr. Heathcote walked back to the hotel together. A strong
friendship had grown up between these two, and each valued the other's
opinion.

"A fine woman," said Mr. Heathcote, looking towards the silky blue of
the sky where the smoke had been.

"Yes, Mrs. Grayson has always impressed me as a woman of great dignity
and strength," said Harley, purposely misunderstanding him.

"That is apparent, but I was not speaking of her. I meant Miss Morgan;
she seems to me to be of a rare and noble type. The man who gets her,
whoever he may be, ought to think himself lucky."

Harley noticed that Mr. Heathcote did not take it for granted that
"King" Plummer would get her, but he said nothing in reply.

XVII

THE SPELLBINDER

An hour after the smoke of the Salt Lake train was lost in the blue sky,
the special car bearing the candidate whirled off in another direction,
deep into the wonderland of the mountains. Now white peaks were on one
side and mighty chasms on the other; then both chasm and peak were lost
behind them, and they shot through an irrigated valley, brown with the
harvest, neat villages snuggling in the centre. But always, whether near
or far, the mountains were around them, blue on the middle slopes, white
at the crests, unless those crests were lost in the clouds and mists.

The people in the car were more quiet than usual, the candidate absorbed
in somewhat sad thoughts, the state politicians respecting his silence,
and the correspondents planning their despatches. But all missed Mrs.
Grayson and Miss Morgan, who, whether they talked or not, always
contributed brightness and a gentler note to their long campaign. "King"
Plummer, too, with his loud laugh and his large, sincere manner, left a
vacancy. Every one felt that there was now nothing ahead but
business--cold, hard business--and so it proved.

Every campaign enters upon successive phases, in which the contestants
advance, through politeness and consideration, first to wary feint and
parry, and then to the stern death-grip of the battle which can mean
nothing but the victory of one and the defeat of the other. They were
now approaching this last stage, and great piles of Eastern newspapers,
which reached them in Utah, reflected all the progress of the combat.

It was obvious to all of those skilled readers and interpreters that the
breach within the party was widening, and that this breach could become
a chasm befo