as they called him, was manifestly surprised at the
ovation and tried repeatedly to get the crowd quiet. He wanted to be
pleasant and yet he wanted order and so between knocks with his gavel
he smiled. And a very engaging smile it was, too.

"Gentlemen," he pleaded. "Gentlemen, a little order." Finally there
was comparative quiet. "Now let's proceed to the business of the
meeting. The floor is open for nominations for permanent chairman of
this caucus."

Sergeant Jack Sullivan of the State of Washington got the floor.
Sergeant Jack is a husky northwesterner who did his bit in the
intelligence section in Seattle and has seen a lot of the Bolsheviki
out there.

"In behalf of the State of Washington and representing the men of the
rank and file of the Pacific Northwest, it gives me pleasure at this
time to place for your consideration the name of a sterling patriot,"
he shouted. "The man I am going to place in nomination proved himself
to be a one hundred per cent. true blooded American when his country's
honor was assailed. He was among the first who placed himself in the
front-line trenches, he was wounded twice, he was ready and willing to
make the supreme sacrifice in order that this world might be made safe
for democracy. I deem it an honor and a privilege, and the Pacific
Northwest deems it an honor and a privilege to place in nomination the
worthy son of a worthy sire--Theodore Roosevelt."

The crowd seemed to know all along who Jack meant and it held its
enthusiasm in tether as best it could. But when Sullivan got to the
word Theodore, the Roosevelt was drowned out in the mightiest cheer
that is possible for eight or nine hundred throats to utter. The
second to the motion, made by Colonel Luke Lea of Tennessee, wasn't
heard at all. This time it took Colonel Roosevelt more than two
minutes to get order.

"Gentlemen, I want to speak on that now," he shouted and during a
lull in the cheering managed to make himself heard. "I wish to say
that I want to withdraw my name from nomination--"

But the "gang wouldn't hear to it." Somebody raised the old cry:

"We want Teddy!" "We want Teddy!" "We want Teddy!" they chanted in
unison. Bedlam broke loose at that. Men stood on their seats and waved
their hats and handkerchiefs; some took their collars and neckties
off; some wept, some cursed for sheer joy and others--I believe that
when Gabriel blows his horn and all the dead arise that some of the
men who attended tha