Jasper County Democrat, Volume 14, Number 95, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 9 March 1912 — THE MAN HIGHER UP [ARTICLE]

THE MAN HIGHER UP

By HENRY RUSSELL MILLER

CHAPTER XXVIII. THE TRIUMPH OF THE FORCE. SOMETIMES the two on the veranda spoke in low, hushed tones they had not used even at Murchell’s bedside, broken, detached sentences of what they could not have told. They came very near to each other in that hour. Up the street tramped a figure, still powerful- if a bit too large of girth, with the rolling, swaggering gait that misfortune never taught. He puffed as he walked, his wind not being what it had been when he pommeled the &reat Donnelly to a draw. Bob saw him. “It’s' Haggin. Something’s' wrong.” The hushed, gentle tone had given place to the crisp, curt voice of the man of affairs. ‘jSlornin’, governor. Miss Flinn sent me”— “Kathleen! What’s wrong? Is Patrick”— “Naw! Nothin’s wrong. Everything’s right Pat’s all right, too. except that he’s in a split stick whether to bang crape on his buzzom because he’s dead or fly a flag because you’re the boss now.” Bob smiled sadly. “We may all be sorry, Tom.” “Right!” Haggin answered, sobering instantly. “He was a big man But you’re a bigger.V Bob shook his head. He turned to Eleanor. “Mrs. Gilbert, I want to introduce one of my best friends.” Haggin’s hat came off awkwardly, his red'face turned purple. “Pleased to meet ye, ma’am,” he managed to stammer. She held out her hand, which Haggin first surveyed doubtfully, then took gingerly into his own big fist. “I am very glad to meet you, Mr. Haggin. And I think, from what I’ve heard, you’re a friend worth having." “Oh, we’re all glad enough to be his friends down our way.” Haggin grinned. “It pays, though that ain’t the only reason. on the square, There ain’t many men I’d say that for, an’ he knocked me out once too.” The grin returned. “Knocked you out? I’m afraid 1 don’t understand”— “Put me into the clear,” Haggin defined, illustrating by punching himself lightly on the point of the jaw. “Oh, he hit you hard!” “Yes, ma’am,” he answered soberly. “He hit me awful hard.” He winked ponderously at Bob. “But he was generous enough to forgive me.” Bob smiled. “I had to. an’ 1 ain’t ever been sorry fer it neither.” Haggin returned to his awkward embarrassment. “He’s been on the square with me always.” I “Sit down. Tom.” .Bob commanded, “and tell us what you came for. Please don’t go,” he said to Eleanor. And his eyes added, “1 can’t bear to lose these minutes with you.” Haggin deposited himself in a chair and leaned back comfortably. “Pretty, ain’t it?” He waved his hand toward the lawn. “You’ll like it when you come here next term.” Then he added casually, “Paul Remington Came back last night.” ‘Paul Remington!” cried two voices. And Haggin suddenly became aware of two white, strained faces turned toward him. He has come home,” Bob repeated slowly, dazedly. “How?” Haggin shook his head. “On the bum. Too much”— He executed a gesture that was intended to indicate the act of taking a drink. “I’ve been afraid of that,” Bob muttered. “Tell us.” “Well, last night Miss Flinn called me up an’ told me to come up to the house quick. When I got there I found him. Guess I was kind o’ rough With him. Asked him what he was doing there.” Haggin grinned ruefully. “Miss Flinn told me where to get off at. Said where should he go but to his friends. 1 guess you’ll back that up?” “Yes. Go on.” ' “I’m glad o’ that. I always did like him—he was such a nervy, good lookin’ cuss. An’ I always had a notion they got him foul, on that convention business somehow.” Bob 'heard Eleanor draw a quick, gasping breath. Impulsively he put out his hand and let it rest on hers for a moment. Haggin discreetly looked the other wav. He had a kid with him—his sister’s —a little girl that—ahem !-that ought not to ’a’ been born. It seems as he’d been hittih' it up gay when be run into his sister. She was sick an’ broke, an’ be tool' care o' her till she died; Then he took care o’ the kid awhile. An’ then. I guess, he couldn’t stand it no longer, so he brought her over to Miss Flinn.” “Thank God!” breathed Eleanor. “Yes, ma’am.” Haggin agreed politely. “He ain't all piker, governor. You think so?” “I know he isn’t, man.” “He never says a word while I’m rough housin' him. When 1 got through be says sharp. ‘Haggin. Miss Flinn tells me you bribed those delegates.' 'That’s straight,’, says I. 'What «reyougoin’ to do.about it?’. He nev-

erKatteil an eye—"he ain't a four "flush er, governor. ’There's just one thing to do,’ he says. An’ we done it!” Haggin straightened up triumphantly-

“There won’t be so much talk about that convention business now, I guessl, I took him to a reporter an’ he give anuther interview, tellin' all about that convention an’ about how you took the blame that b’ionged to me. It’s a .bully story. The reporter got it straight an’ knew how to write it up. It’s in ail the mornin’ papers. “When we got back to the house Miss Flinn asked him, ‘Will you stay •now, Paul?' He didn’t say nuthin’ fer awhile. Then he straightened up an’ said, ‘lf Bob will let me.’ These was his very words. You’ll let him, won’t you. governor?” ' Haggin was very earnest. “He’s been up against a tough game.” Bob held out his hand. Haggin took it. ' 1 .

Haggin turned to Eleanor. “Didn’t I say he’s on the square? He’s my kind o’ man!”

Then Haggin noted a singular phenomenon. xVeither Eleanor nor Bob was paying the least attention to his words. They were both standing, each lost in the other’s eyes. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, then arose, coughing loudly. “Well, I guess I’ll be goin’. If you’re goin’ down to see him, governor, I’ll meet you at the ’leven-forty.” “At the 11:40,” Bob mumbled mechanically. “Oh, yes, of course, the 11:40. I’ll be there, Tom.” “Well—why, bless me, I nearly fergot! Before I left Paul said to me: ‘Tell Bob to tell Mrs. Gilbert that there is no reason in the world—none at all—why I should stand between her and happiness. She will understand.’ He made me say it over again. Those was his very words.” Once more Haggin noted that strange forgetfulness of his presence. After a long moment Bob came to his senses to remark:

“Tom, the governor has some very particular, as 1 have heard. If you will go Into the house the butler will attend to your case.” Tom went. Bob turned to her and touched her hand gently, reverently. “I can’t believe it. It has come so soon. Ah. we had 90 little faith! Eleanor! Eleanor!” His voice was low and husky. His hand fell from hers and his head went up bravely. “I have been newsboy, mill hand, heeler, grafter. Please God, that last at least is ended! 1 don’t know what crime stained my birth. I don’t even know that I have a right to the name I bear. But—l love you.” “And that is all I want,” she answered simply. “There is no reason why we should wait, is there, Eleanor?” “There is none. You are all I have In the world. Bob. dear.” As she spoke his name he thrilled. “You never took a vacation, did you. dear?” “Yes, once-when I was sick.” “Oh, that doesn’t count, you know. Will you take one this summer—with me? Just one little week—if the campaign will allow It?” “We’ll make the campaign allow it.” His laugh rang boyi«hlv. “There’s a place 1 know in the woods, it is on a river, such a beautiful river, so cool and clear and deep. The woods are always deliciously fragrant. You sit In your canoe and float and dream all day long. And at night you light your campfire on the water’s edge, and you sit by it and watch the rippling path of gold it lays along the river and count'the‘stars and wonder what they all mean up there and forget that there is any one hi the world—except just we two.” He caught her closely to him. “I haven’t kissed you yet.” They had forgotten death. After a time he remembered. She saw that his thoughts were afar off. She wondered what he was thinking- ? He was looking into the years ahead, looking with the sure knowledge ot the man who has seen the test applied. He saw the struggle, for he knew the enemy. He saw the temptations fought and overcome, for he knew himself at last. He saw the ultimate victory, for he knew Iris people. His heart tilled'with his longing and purpose. He, who had done so little, had received the reward of the faithful servant. Henceforward he would measure his service to the richness of the reward that was his. She saw his lips move, but no sound fell. She read the words: “Let me serve! Let me serve!” “Ah.” she cried, “you are forgetting me already!”

He- looked down into her eyes and drew her more closely to his heart. She was content. “Let us serve!”

The death of Murchell brought to the harassed interests no relief. Neither did it bring fear to the people of that state, for both knew that on guard between them stood Bob McAdoo. THE END.