his words would make no impression.

But in other matters than those of public life and oratory Jimmy
Grayson's people found young Moore likable enough. He was helpful on the
train; now and then when the telegraph-operators had more material than
they could handle, he gave them valuable aid; he was a fine comrade,
taking good luck and bad luck with equal philosophy, and never
complaining. "If only he wouldn't try to speak!" groaned Hobart, for
whom he had sent a telegraphic message with skill and despatch.

But that very afternoon Moore talked to them on the subject of national
finance, until they fell into a rage and left the car. That evening
Harley was sitting with the candidate, when an old man, bent of figure
and gloomy of face, came to them.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Grayson," he said, "for intruding on you, but
I've come to ask a favor. I'm Henry Moore, of Council Grove, the father
of Charlie Moore, who was the best telegraph-operator in Denver, and who
is now the poorest public speaker in Colorado."

The old man smiled, but it was a sad smile, cut off early. Jimmy Grayson
was full of sympathy at once, and he shook Mr. Moore's hand warmly.

"I know your son," he said; "he is a bright boy."

"Yes, he's nothing but a boy," said his father, as if seeking an excuse.
"I suppose all boys must have their foolish spells, but he appears to
have his mighty hard and long."

The old man sighed, and the look of sympathy on Jimmy Grayson's face
deepened.

"Charlie is a good boy," continued Mr. Moore, "and if he could have this
foolish notion knocked out of his head--there's no other way to get it
out--he would be all right; and that's why I've come to you. You know
you are to speak at Pueblo to-morrow night in a big hall, and one of the
biggest crowds in the West will be there to hear you. Two or three
speakers are to follow you, and what do you think that son of mine has
done? Somehow or other he has got the committee to put him on the
programme right after you, and he says he is going to demolish what he
calls your fallacies."

Harley saw the candidate's lips curve a little, as if he were about to
smile, but the movement was quickly checked. Jimmy Grayson would not
willingly hurt the feelings of any man.

"Your boy has that right," he said to Mr. Moore.

"No, he hasn't!" burst out the old man. "A boy hasn't any right to be so
light-headed, and I want you, Mr. Grayson, when he has finished his
speech, to come righ