and more as he went about.

The distrust of him, because of his associations, a suspicion fostered
by the paid agents of the opposition, began to give way before his calm,
earnest young manhood. But in every knot of men he found a few bitter
irreconcilables still. They were those whom change invites, and the
established order offends. One man, unable to provoke him by
vituperation, and in a frenzy of childish rage because Harlan's calm
poise was not disturbed by his outpourings, ran at him and struck him.
He was a little man, and though he leaped when he struck, the blow
landed no higher than the shoulder that Harlan turned to him. And when
he leaped again the young man caught him by the wrist and smiled down on
him, unperturbed.

"If that's the way you talk politics, Sam, I'll have to adjourn the
debate," he said, quietly. And the story of that went the rounds,
accompanied by much laughter, and the big, sturdy, serene young man who
was master of his own passions met smiles wherever he went.

Another story preceded him, too. "Fighting" MacCracken, of the Jo Quacca
neighborhood, smarting ever since that day in the yard of "The
Barracks," jealous of his prestige as a man of might, offered obscene
and brutal insult to the name of Thelismer Thornton in the hearing of
his grandson. It had been hinted previously along the border that the
six-foot scion of the Thorntons was a handy man in a scrap, but now his
prowess was surely established. MacCracken went about, a living
advertisement of how effectually righteous anger can back up two good
fists.

Therefore, respect attended on good-humor and went with, or ahead of,