crowd was solid for Wilson," cried the angry boss, pounding the long
table before which Langdon sat.

"I'll answer you almighty quick," retorted the now thoroughly aroused
Senator-elect, rising and shaking his clenched fist at Sanders. "Those
twelve votes you say were yours--yours?"

"Yes, mine. Them noble legislators that cast 'em was an' is mine,
mine. I tell you, jest like I had 'em in my pocket, an' that's where I
mostly carry 'em, so as they won't go strayin' aroun' careless like."

"You didn't have to vote those men for me. I told you at the Capitol
that I would not make you or anybody else any promises. You voted them
for me of your own accord. That's my answer."

At this point the gentlemen of the county present when Sanders entered
and who had no desire to witness further the unpleasant episode, rose
to leave, in spite of the urgent request of Colonel Langdon that they
remain. The only one reluctant to go was Deacon Amos Smallwood, who,
coming to the plantation to seek employment for his son, had not been
denied of his desire to join the assemblage of his neighbors.

Last to move toward the door, he stopped in front of Sanders,
stretched his five feet three inches of stature on tiptoe, and shook a
withered fist in the boss' firmly set, determined face.

"Infamous!" shrieked the deacon. "You're a monster! You're
unrighteous! You should have belonged to the political machine of
Cataline or Pontius Pilate!"