CHAPTER XIII.
FEELING THE ENEMY.
Edward Morgan plunged into the campaign with an energy and earnestnessthat charmed the younger Montjoy and astonished the elder. Headquarterswere opened, typewriters engaged, lists of prominent men and partyleaders obtained and letters written. Col. Montjoy was averse to writingto his many personal friends in the district anything more than a formalannouncement of his candidacy over his own signature.
"That is all right, father, but if you intend to stick to that idea theway to avoid defeat is to come down now." But the old gentlemancontinued to use his own form of letter. It read:
"My Dear Sir: I beg leave to call your attention to my announcement in the Journal of this city, under date of July 13, wherein, in response to the demands of friends, I consented to the use of my name in the nomination for congressman to represent this district. With great respect, I am, sir, your obedient servant,
"Norton L. Montjoy."
He dictated this letter, gave the list to the typewriter, and announcedthat when the letters were ready he would sign them. The son looked athim quizzically:
"Don't trouble about that, father. You must leave this office work tous. I can sign your name better than you can. If you will get out andsee the gentlemen about the cotton warehouses you can help uswonderfully. You can handle them better than anybody in the world." Thecolonel smiled indulgently on his son and went off. He was proud of thesuccess and genius of his one boy, when not grieved at his departurefrom the old-school dignity. And then Norton sat down and began todictate the correspondence, with the list to guide him.
"Dear Jim," he began, selecting a well-known friend of his father, and a companion in arms. "You have probably noticed in the Journal the announcement of my candidacy for the congressional nomination. The boys of the old 'Fire-Eaters' did eat. I am counting on you; you stood by me at Seven Pines, Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville and a dozen other tight places, and I have no fear but that your old colonel will find you with him in this issue. It is the old south against the riffraff combination of carpetbaggers, scalawags and jaybirds who are trying to betray us into the hands of the enemy! My opponent, Swearingen, is a good man in his way, but in devilish bad company. See Lamar of Company C, Sims, Ellis, Smith and all the old guard. Tell them I am making the stand of my life! My best respects to the madam and the grandchildren! God bless you. Do the best you can. Yours fraternally,
"N. L. Montjoy."
"P. S. Arrange for me to speak at your court house some day soon. Get an early convention called. We fight better on a charge--old Stonewall's way.
"N. L. M."
This letter brought down the house; the house in this instance standingfor a small army of committeemen gathered at headquarters. Norton wasencouraged to try again.
"The Rev. Andrew Paton, D. D.--Dear Andrew: I am out for congress and need you. Of course we can't permit you to take your sacred robes into the mire of politics, but, Andrew, we were boys together, before you were so famous, and I know that nothing I can bring myself to ask of you can be refused. A word from you in many quarters will help. The madam joins me in regards to you and yours. Sincerely.
"N. L. Montjoy."
"P. S. Excuse this typewritten letter, but my hand is old, and I cannot wield the pen as I did when we put together that first sermon of yours.
"M."
This was an addendum in "the colonel's own handwriting" and it closedwith "pray for me." The letter was vociferously applauded and passers-bylooked up in the headquarters windows curiously. These addenda in thecolonel's own handwriting tickled Norton's fancy. He played upon everystring in the human heart. When he got among the masons he staggered alittle, but managed to work in something about "upright, square andlevel." "If I could only have got a few signals from the old gentleman,"he said, gayly, "I would get the lodges out in a body."
Norton was everywhere during the next ten days. He kept four typewritersbusy getting out "personal" letters, addressing circulars and markingspecial articles that had appeared in the papers. One of his sayingsthat afterward became a political maxim was: "If you want the people tohelp you, let them hear from you before election." And in this instancethey heard.
Within a few days a great banner was stretched across the street fromthe headquarters window, and a band wagon, drawn by four white horses,carried a brass band and flags bearing the legend:
"Montjoy at the Court House Saturday Night."
Little boys distributed dodgers.
Edward, taking the cue, entered with equal enthusiasm into the comedy.He wanted to do the right thing, and he had formed an exaggerated ideaof the influence of money in political campaigns. He hung a placard atthe front door of the Montjoy headquarters that read:
"One thousand dollars to five hundred that Montjoy is nominated."
He placed a check to back it in the secretary's hands. This announcementdrew a crowd and soon afterward a quiet-appearing man came in and said:
"I have the money to cover that bet. Name a stake-holder."
One was named. Edward was flushed with wine and enthused by the friendlycomments his bold wager had drawn out.
"Make it $2,000 to $1,000?" he asked the stranger.
"Well," was the reply, "it goes."
"Make it $10,000 to $5,000?" said Edward.
"No!"
"Ten thousand to four thousand?"
"No!"
"Ten thousand to three thousand?"
"No!" The stranger smiled nervously and, saluting, withdrew. The crowdcheered until the sidewalk was blockaded. The news went abroad: "Odds of300 to 100 have been offered on Montjoy, and no takers."
Edward's bet had the effect of precipitating the campaign in the homecounty; it had been opening slowly, despite the rush at the Montjoyheadquarters. The Swearingen men were experienced campaigners and workedmore by quiet organization than display. Such men know when to make thegreat stroke in a campaign. The man who had attempted to call youngMorgan's hand had little to do with the management of the Swearingencampaign, but was engaged in a speculation of his own, acting upon ahint.
But the show of strength at the Montjoy headquarters was at once used bythe Swearingen men to stir their friends to action, lest they be bluffedout of the fight. Rival bands were got out, rival placards appeared andhandbills were thrown into every yard.
And then came the first personalities, but directed at Edward only. Anevening paper said that "A late citizen, after half a century ofhonorable service, and although but recently deceased, seemed to havefallen into betting upon mundane elections by proxy." And elsewhere: "Acertain class of people and their uncle's money are soon divorced." Manyothers followed upon the same line, clearly indicating Edward Morgan,and with street-corner talk soon made him a central figure among theMontjoy forces. Edward saw none of these paragraphs, nor did he hear thegossip of the city.
This continued for days; in the meantime Edward took Norton home withhim at night and generally one or two others accompanied them. Finallyit came to be settled that Norton and Edward were old friends, and thefriends of Montjoy senior looked on and smiled.
The other side simply sneered, swore and waited.
Information of these things reached Mary Montjoy. Annie, thesister-in-law, came into the city and met her cousin, Amos Royson, thewild horseman who collided with the Montjoy team upon the night ofEdward's first appearance. This man was one of the Swearingen managers.His relationship to Annie Montjoy gave him entrance to the familycircle, and he had been for two years a suitor for Mary's hand.
Royson took a seat in the vehicle beside his cousin and turned thehorse's head toward the park. Annie Montjoy saw that he was in an uglymood, and divined the reason. She possessed to a remarkable degree thepower of mind-reading and she knew Amos Royson better than he knewhimself.
"Tell me about this Edward Mor
gan, who is making such a fool ofhimself," he said abruptly. "He is injuring Col. Montjoy's chances morethan we could ever hope to, and is really the best ally we have!"
She smiled as she looked upon him from under the sleepy lids, "Why,then, are you not pleased?"
"Oh, well, you know, Annie, the unfortunate fact remains that you areone of the family. I hate to see you mixed up in this matter and asharer in the family's downfall."
"You do not think enough of me to keep out of the way."
"I cannot control the election, Annie. Swearingen will be elected withor without my help. But you know my whole future depends uponSwearingen. Who is Edward Morgan?"
"Oh, Edward Morgan! Well, you know, he is old John Morgan's heir, andthat is all I know; but," and she laughed maliciously, "he is whatNorton calls 'a rusher,' not only in politics, but elsewhere. He hasseen Mary, and--now you know why he is so much interested in thiselection." Amos turned fiercely upon her and involuntarily drew thereins until the horse stopped. He felt the innuendo and forgot thethrust.
"You cannot mean----" he began, and then paused, for in her eyes was atriumph so devilish, so malicious, that even he, knowing her well, couldnot bring himself to gratify it. He knew that she had never forgiven himfor his devotion to Mary.
"Yes, I mean it! If ever two people were suddenly, hopelessly, foolishlyinfatuated with each other that same little hypocritical chit and thisstranger are the two. He is simply trying to put his intendedfather-in-law into congress. Do you understand?"
The man's face was white and only with difficulty could he guide theanimal he was driving. She continued, with a sudden exhibition ofpassion: "And Mary! Oh, you should just hear her say 'Ilexhurst'! Shewill queen it out there with old Morgan's money and heir, and we----"she laughed bitterly, "we will stay out yonder, keep a mule boardinghouse and nurse sick niggers--that is all it amounts to; they raise cornhalf the year and hire hands to feed it out the other half; and thewarehouses get the cotton. In the meantime, I am stuck away out of sightwith my children!" Royson thought over this outburst and then saidgravely:
"You have not yet answered my question. Who is Edward Morgan--where didhe come from?"
"Go ask John Morgan," she said, scornfully and maliciously. He studiedlong the painted dashboard in front of him, and then, in a sort of awe,looked into her face:
"What do you mean, Annie?" She would not turn back; she met his gazewith determination.
"Old Morgan has educated and maintained him abroad all his life. He hasnever spoken of him to anybody. You know what stories they used to tellof John Morgan. Can't you see? Challenged to prove his legal right tohis name he couldn't do it." The words were out. The jealous woman tookthe lines from his hands and said, sneeringly: "You are making a fool ofyourself, Amos, by your driving, and attracting attention. Where do youwant to get out? I am going back uptown." He did not reply. Dazed by thefearful hint he sat looking ahead. When she drew rein at a convenientcorner he alighted. There was a cruel light in his gray eyes.
"Annie," he said, "the defeat of Col. Montjoy lies in your information."
"Let it," she exclaimed, recklessly. "He has no more business incongress than a child. And for the other matter, I have myself and mychildren's name to protect."
And yet she was not entirely without caution. She continued:
"What I have told you is a mere hint. It must not come back to me norget in print." She drove away. With eyes upon the ground Royson walkedto his office.
Amos Royson was of the new south entirely, but not its bestrepresentative. His ambition was boundless; there was nothing he wouldhave left undone to advance himself politically. His thought as hewalked back to his office was upon the words of his cousin. In whatmanner could this frightful hint be made effective without danger ofreaction? At this moment he met the man he was plotting to destroy,walking rapidly toward the postoffice with Norton Montjoy. The lattersaluted him, gayly, as he passed:
"Hello, Amos! We have you on the run, my boy!" Amos made no reply toNorton, nor to Edward's conventional bow. As they passed he noted thelatter's form and poetical face, then somewhat flushed with excitement,and seemed to form a mental estimate of him.
"Cold-blooded devil, that fellow Royson," said Norton, as he ran overhis letters before mailing them; "stick a knife in you in a minute."
But Royson walked on. Once he turned, looked back and smiledsardonically. "They are both in a bad fix," he said, half-aloud. "Theman who has to look out for Annie is to be pitied."
At home Annie gave a highly colored account of all she had heard in townabout Edward, made up chiefly of boasts of friends who supposed that herinterest in Col. Montjoy's nomination was genuine, of Norton's reportand the sneers of enemies, including Royson. These lost nothing in theway of color at her hands. Mary sought her room and after efforts sealedfor Edward this letter:
"You can never know how grateful we all are for your interest and help, but our gratitude would be incomplete if I failed to tell you that there is danger of injuring yourself in your generous enthusiasm. You must not forget that papa has enemies who will become yours. This we would much regret, for you have so much need of friends. Do not put faith in too many people, and come out here when you feel the need of rest. I cannot write much that I would like to tell you. Your friend,
"Mary Montjoy."
"P. S. Amos Royson is your enemy and he is a dangerous man."
When Edward received this, as he did next day by the hand of Col.Montjoy, he was thrilled with pleasure and then depressed with a suddenmemory. That day he was so reckless that even Norton felt compelled,using his expression, "to call him down."
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