Chapter XVI

The Election

Danvers did not hear the clerk of the Senate as he began the roll-call of the senators after the presiding officer had rapped for order. The first three men in the A's were irrevocably opposed to Burroughs and Danvers concentrated his whole thought on Senator Blair's change of heart.

While the men preceding Charlie were voting, Winifred whispered to her brother. He did not seem to hear, and his dazed eyes were still fixed straight ahead. The flaming red of the scar made his face look still more ghastly, and at times his form swayed dizzily.

"Do not vote for Mr. Burroughs," Winifred entreated. "For my sake, Charlie. You've always been willing to please me. Vote for any one else. Philip expects your loyalty. Vote for him, even. Show him that you, if no one else, appreciate his courage in facing these men and denouncing them before the entire a.s.sembly."

"Blair!" came the stentorian voice from the desk. Necks were craned and men rose to whisper and to look as this man's name was called. How would he vote? Burroughs' throat grew dry to suffocation. Moore's gaze was imperturbable, but the muscles in his neck twitched perceptibly, while sweat beaded his upper lip. Danvers still kept his eye on the miserably shaken Blair, and still hoped.

Suddenly Charlie turned and threw him one look. Then he rose, slowly, with painful effort, holding his sister's supporting arm. He showed the effect of stormy weeks of pa.s.sion as he stood a moment, silent.

"Vote for Philip, Charlie," whispered Winifred, under cover of a.s.sisting him. Blair looked around the room.

"Mr. President," he began, in a trembling voice. "Before I cast my vote in this ballot, I wish to say that I have listened to my honored colleague from Chouteau County with mingled feelings of shame at my own unworthiness and admiration for the courage which had dared to say what every man of us should have said six weeks ago. Senator Danvers beseeches us to send to Washington a man who will guard the fair name of Montana, who will work for our best interests, and reflect honor on every inhabitant of the State. He asks us to vote for one above reproach, one who would accept no position at the expense of his fellows. I am inclined to give his plea serious consideration. But before I cast my ballot," his voice gained in strength and firmness, and he stepped forward with a gesture of irrevocable decision and placed upon the speaker's desk a long white envelope, "I will place here thirty thousand dollars, to be redeemed by the party who shoved it under my door two days ago.

"And now," turning to the gasping a.s.sembly, "as the senator from Chouteau has unconsciously suggested the very man to represent our State in Congress--the man on whom, I am sure, we can all agree--I take great pleasure, Mr. President, in casting my vote, the first vote, for the Honorable Philip Danvers of Fort Benton!"

Quick applause rang out as Blair took his seat, and Winifred kissed his hand as it lay trembling on his desk.

Danvers gasped in dismay. Had Blair's sickness quite turned his head?

But, no! Never had his eye been clearer; never had he looked more the man as he returned full and strong Philip's amazed gaze.

Danvers half rose to protest, but the doctor pulled him down. Winifred began to cry behind her veil as the applause continued. A responsive note had been struck. When quiet was somewhat restored, the automatic clerk called the next name--the name of the senator who had promised Eva his vote. Since Latimer's death he had heartily wished for some excuse to be absolved from that promise. Here was his opportunity.

"Philip Danvers!" he called loudly, defiantly, perhaps. He owed Burroughs nothing. But as a rolling stone gathers momentum, so did this unexpected addition to the new name on the list of candidates give impetus to a stampede which soon made itself understood, as much to the surprise of Blair as Danvers.

"Never mind, Bob," whispered Moore, hoa.r.s.ely. "It's only a spurt that will die out. They often run like a flock of sheep. You'll get there on the next ballot."

When Senator Hall's name was called, he rose airily. He not only wished to hide his hand, but to get even with Danvers for many an upright act unconsciously done while they two were troopers together at Fort Macleod.

"I wish to explain my vote," began the lanky senator. "My esteemed colleague from Chouteau County has made a very pretty speech, intended, I take it, for the ladies who are honoring us with their fair presence, and also to enhance his own reputation. His accusations can hardly be proven. And while I voted for Burroughs for reasons which no man has a right to question, I wish to state that even if I had not so voted in the past, I should feel it inc.u.mbent on me as a native born American to vote for him at this time. I do not approve of a foreigner, an Englishman, a man who has been one of that force across our northern border which has frequently done grave injustice not only to many of our citizens, but, I dare say, to Burroughs himself, undertaking to teach us anything in a political way."

O'Dwyer rose at this. His red face was redder than ever, and he shook his fist at the speaker; but the doctor pulled him down, and he reluctantly subsided. For Hall to speak thus of the North West Mounted Police when he had been drummed out of the force!

"I may also say," went on Hall, "that I believe this thirty thousand dollars (if there is such a sum of money in the envelope which Senator Blair has just placed on the desk) was put up for the purpose of stampeding the a.s.sembly for this man who professes to be so honest and so upright--Senator Danvers!"

Hisses came from all over the room, but Hall was impervious.

"Mr. President: I hereby make my protest against such spectacular performances by casting my vote, altogether uninfluenced, for the Honorable Robert Burroughs," he gave a quick glance to the rear of the room where a new group had just crowded in, "and I defy anyone to detect 'a blush of shame' on my brow."

The speech and the bravado fell flat. The crowd was not with this bribe-taker. The voting proceeded, and Danvers' name was spoken with gus...o...b.. many who thought, on the next ballot, to return to their respective candidates.

"Philip Danvers!" yelled Representative O'Dwyer, hardly waiting for his name as the representatives were called. "Danvers! Danvers! Danvers!" he repeated, in a frenzy of friendly fervor. Pounding feet and canes accentuated the Irishman's cry.

"You've given him the deciding vote, O'Dwyer!" shouted the doctor, forgetting decorum in the delirium of the moment. He had kept close check on the various candidates while the angry Moore and Burroughs, purple and speechless, stood aghast, not believing that this flurry could abolish the results of their expensive campaign.

"Philip Danvers it is!" yelled O'Dwyer, overjoyed, leaping to the top of his desk and jumping madly. "Danvers forever! Hooray!"

"Danvers! Danvers! Danvers!" The name was taken up as a slogan by the cheering legislators and citizens--men and women alike. Shouts and hisses, congratulations and curses, laughter and consternation mingled over this unexpected denouement of the long-drawn-out contest.

The speaker's gavel came near to breaking, and the desk was cracked before the tumult could be quieted sufficiently to proceed with the balloting.

The remaining numbers, almost to a man, voted for Danvers; and when O'Dwyer moved that the vote be made unanimous, the noise and enthusiasm which had preceded was as silence to what followed when the motion was put, seconded and carried, that Philip Danvers of Fort Benton be declared unanimously elected as the United States senator from Montana to fill the vacancy for the four years beginning March four, eighteen hundred and ninety----.

Even Senator Hall joined the majority--for did he not already have his money safely invested? Besides, he could be censured by Burroughs no more than many others who had taken his money and betrayed him.

"Speech! speech!" yelled the crowd. But Danvers could not speak.

"Let us go," whispered Mrs. Burroughs, as the demonstration continued.

She looked half in scorn, half in pity, on her husband, frustrated in the ambition of years by the man he most hated--her brother. "Let us go, Robert," she repeated.

The young daughter crept nearer and clasped her father's icy hand. She did not understand the accusations made against a father who had shown her nothing but love.

"Better luck next time, Bob," consoled Moore. "Don't let everybody see how hard hit you are. Danvers is elected only for the short term, you know--four years."

Choking, Burroughs attempted to force his way through the cheering, struggling mob, and to clear a path for his wife and daughter. But as the crowd gave way, in deference to the women, a new obstruction presented itself.

Robert Burroughs did not recognize the slouching, dirty buck blocking his way as Me-Casto, the once haughty pride of the Blackfeet federation, or the obese, filthy squaw as Pine Coulee. The work of civilization had obviously been in vain. But this tall, strapping 'breed reaching out his unwashed hand! Burroughs gazed at a replica of himself as he had been at Fort Macleod.

"Him you father?" questioned the half-breed, addressing the frightened daughter. He had been well coached by the grinning McDevitt, so close behind him.

"She you mother?" He pointed to Kate Danvers, high bred and aristocratic in her scorn.

"She _my_ mother," the 'breed went on, fiendishly, indicating the toothless, loathsome squaw, whose vindictive eyes never wavered from Burroughs' craven face. "Him both our father!" The common parent was given a fillip of a contemptuous thumb and finger.

Burroughs could not look at his wife, but he threw a furtive glance at the flower-like face of his daughter. Her look of terror and of shame was more than he could bear. Before all men he had been confounded; before the wife whose love he had never won, his own pa.s.sion proving his torment; before his daughter, the idol of his heart.

As the surge of curious men pressed nearer he saw the malevolent joy of Joseph Hall and of Chaplain McDevitt, and he knew who had planned his disgrace. He saw Danvers, vainly striving to reach his sister.

"Let me out!" came in a thick gurgle from his swelling throat. Something in his face made the throng give way and Moore quickly pushed him outside into the midnight cold.

"Go back for my wife and daughter," Burroughs commanded. "Go back!"

The street was empty, for everybody had stayed within the capitol to feast on the sensation of the Indians and the fainting women. Moore hesitated.

"They'll be right out, Bob. Let me call a cab."

"Go!" The old, imperious fire came from the deep-set eyes.

Moore had no sooner turned his back to obey than a pistol shot broke the stillness.

The rabble poured from the capitol at the sound of the shot. Moore, the only friend that Burroughs ever had, raised his companion. The plotting and planning was over. Robert Burroughs, having forced his way through life's stockade, stepped out, alone, into the Dark Trail.