xpedient that this errand should not smell
of haste.

"I was goin' to see Cutter on Friday," he answered.

"Er--if you should happen to meet Heth--"

"Yes," interrupted Jake.

"If by chance you should happen to meet Heth, or Bije" (Jethro knew that
Jake never went to Clovelly without a conference with one or the other of
these personages, if only to be able to talk about it afterward at the
store), "er--what would you say to 'em?"

"Why," said Jake, scratching his head for the answer, "I'd tell him you
was at Coniston."

"Think we'll have rain, Jake?" inquired Jethro, blandly.

Jake wended his way back to the store, filled with renewed admiration for
the great man. Jethro had given him no instructions whatever, could deny
before a jury if need be that he had sent him (Jake) to Clovelly to tell
Heth Sutton to come to Coniston for instructions on the occasion of his
Brampton speech. And Jake was filled with a mysterious importance when he
took his seat once more in the conclave.

Jake Wheeler, although in many respects a fool, was one of the most
efficient pack of political hounds that the state has ever known. By six
o'clock on Friday morning he was descending a brook valley on the
Clovelly side of the mountain, and by seven was driving between the
forest and river meadows of the Rajah's domain, and had come in sight of
the big white house with its somewhat pretentious bay-windows and Gothic
doorway; it might be dubbed the palace of these parts. The wide river
flowed below it, and the pastures so wondrously green in the morning sun
were dotted with fat cattle and sheep. Jake was content to borrow a cut
of tobacco from the superintendent and wonder aimlessly around the farm
until Mr. Sutton's family prayers and breakfast were accomplished. We
shall not concern ourselves with the message or the somewhat lengthy
manner in which it was delivered. Jake had merely dropped in by accident,
but the Rajah listened coldly while he picked his teeth, said he didn't
know whether he was going to Brampton or not--hadn't decided; didn't know
whether he could get to Coniston or not--his affairs were multitudinous
now. In short, he set Jake to thinking deeply as his horse walked up the
western heights of Coniston on the return journey. He had, let it be
repeated, a sure instinct once his nose was fairly on the scent, and he
was convinced that a war of great magnitude was in the air, and he; Jake
Wheeler, was probably the first in