_ PART THREE CHAPTER I
In January David took his seat in the House of Representatives, of which he was the youngest member. It was not intended by that august body that he should take any rôle but the one tacitly conceded to him of making silver-tongued oratory on the days when the public would crowd the galleries to hear an all-important measure, the "Griggs Bill," discussed. The committee were to give him the facts and the general line of argument, and he was to dress it up in his fantastic way. They were entirely willing that he should have the applause from the public as well as the credit of the victory; all they cared for was the certainty of the passage of the bill.
David's cool, lawyer-like mind saw through all these manipulations and machinations even if he were only a political tenderfoot. As other minor measures came up he voted for or against them as his better judgment dictated, but all his leisure hours were devoted to the investigation and study of the one big bill which was to be rushed through at the end of the session. He pored over the status of the law, found out the policies and opinions of other states on the subject, and listened attentively to all arguments, but he never took part in the discussions and he was very guarded in giving an expression of his views, an attitude which pleased the promoters of the bill until it began to occur to them that his caution came from penetration into their designs and, perhaps, from intent to thwart them.
"He has ketched on," mournfully stated an old-timer from the third district. "I'm allers mistrustful of these young critters. They are sure to balk on the home stretch."
"Well, one good thing," grinned a city member, "it breaks their record, and they don't get another entry."
David had made a few short speeches on some of the bills, and those who had read in the papers of the wonderful powers of oratory of the young member from the eleventh flocked to hear him. They were disappointed. His speeches were brief, forceful, and logical, but entirely barren of rhetorical effect. The promoters of the Griggs Bill began to wonder, but concluded he was saving all his figures of speech to sugarcoat their obnoxious measure. It occurred to them, too, that if by chance he should oppose them his bare-handed way of dealing with subterfuges and his clear presentation of facts would work harm. They counted, however, on being able to convince him that his future status in the life political depended upon his coöperation with them in pushing this bill through.
Finally he was approached, and then the bomb was thrown. He quietly and emphatically told them he should fight the bill, single handed if necessary. Recriminations, arguments, threats, and inducements--all were of no avail.
"Let him hang himself if he wants to," growled one of the committee. "He hasn't influence enough to knock us out. We've got the majority."
The measure was one that would radically affect the future interests of the state, and was being watched and studied by the people, who had not, as yet, however, realized its significance or its far-reaching power. The intent of the promoters of the Griggs Bill was to leave the people unenlightened until it should have become a law.
"Dunne won't do us any harm," argued the father of the bill on the eventful day. "He's been saving all his skyrockets for this celebration. He'll get lots of applause from the women folks," looking up at the solidly packed gallery, "and his speech will be copied in all the papers, and that'll be the reward he's looking for."
When David arose to speak against the Griggs Bill he didn't look the youngster he had been pictured. His tall, lithe, compelling figure was drawn to its full height. His eyes darkened to intensity with the gravity of the task before him; the stern lines of his mouth bespoke a master of the situation and compelled confidence in his knowledge and ability.
The speech delivered in his masterful voice was not so much in opposition to the bill as it was an exposure of it. He bared it ruthlessly and thoroughly, but he didn't use his youthful hypnotic periods of persuasive eloquence that had been wont to sway juries and to creep into campaign speeches. His wits had been sharpened in the last few months, and his keen-edged thrusts, hurled rapier-like, brought a wince to even the most hardened of veteran members. It was a complete enlightenment in plain words to a plain people--a concise and convincing protest.
When he finished there was a tempest of arguments from the other side, but there was not a point he had not foreseen, and as attack only brought out the iniquities of the measure, they let the bill come to ballot. The measure was defeated, and for days the papers were headlined with David Dunne's name, and accounts of how the veterans had been routed by the "tenderfoot from the eleventh."
After his dip into political excitement legal duties became a little irksome to David, especially after the wedding of Joe and Janey had taken place. In the fall occurred the death of the United States senator from the western district of the state. A special session of the legislature was to be convened for the purpose of pushing through an important measure, and the election of a successor to fill the vacancy would take place at the same time. The usual "certain rich man," anxious for a career, aspired, and, as he was backed by the state machine as well as by the covert influence of two or three of the congressmen, his election seemed assured.
There was an opposing candidate, the choice of the people, however, who was gathering strength daily.
"We've got to head off this man Dunne some way," said the manager of the "certain rich man." "He can't beat us, but with him out of the way it would be easy sailing, and all opposition would come over to us on the second ballot."
"Isn't there a way to win him over?" asked a congressman who was present.
The introducer of the memorable measure of the last session shook his head negatively.
"He can't be persuaded, threatened, or bought."
"Then let's get him out of the way."
"Kidnap him?"
"Decoy him gently from your path. The consul of a little seaport in South America has resigned, and at a word from me to Senator Hollis, who would pass it on to the President, this appointment could be given to your young bucker, and he'd be out of your way for at least three years."
"That would be too good to be true, but he wouldn't bite at such bait. His aspirations are all in a state line. He's got the usual career mapped out,--state senator, secretary of state, governor--possibly President."
"You can never tell," replied the congressman sagaciously. "A presidential appointment, the alluring word 'consul,' a foreign residence, all sound very enticing and important to a young country man. The Dunne type likes to be the big frog in the puddle. This stripling you are all so afraid of hasn't cut all his wisdom teeth yet. It's worth a try. I'll tackle him."
The morning after this conversation, as David walked down to the Judge's office he felt very lonely--a part of no plan. It was a mood that made him ripe for the purpose of the congressman whom he found awaiting him.
"I've been wanting to meet you for a long time, Mr. Dunne," said the congressman obsequiously, after the Judge had introduced him. "We've heard a great deal about you down in Washington since your defeat of the Griggs Bill, and we are looking for great things from you. Of course, we have to keep our eye on what is going on back here."
The Judge looked his surprise at this speech, and was still more mystified at receiving a knowing wink from David.
After some preliminary talk the congressman finally made known his errand, and tendered David the offer of a consulship in South America.
At this juncture the Judge was summoned to the telephone in another room. When he returned the congressman had taken his departure.
"Behold," grinned David, "the future consul of--I really can't pronounce it. I am going to look it up now in your atlas."
"Where is Gilbert?" asked the Judge.
"Gone to wire Hilliard before I can change my mind. You see, it's a scheme to get me out of the road and I--well I happen to be willing to get out of the road just now. I am not in a fighting mood."
"Consular service," remarked the Judge oracularly, "is generally considered a sort of clearing house for undesirable politicians. The consuls to those little ports are, as a rule, very poor."
"Then a good consul like your junior partner will loom up among so many poor ones."
Barnabas was inwardly disturbed by this move from David, but he philosophically argued that "the boy was young and 't wouldn't harm him to salt down awhile."
"Dave," he counseled in farewell, "I hope you'll come to love some good gal. Every man orter hev a hearth of his own. This stretchin' yer feet afore other folks' firesides is unnateral and lonesome. Thar's no place so snug and safe fer a man as his own home, with a good wife to keep it. But I want you tew make me a promise, Dave. When I see the time's ripe fer pickin' in politics, will you come back?"
"I will, Uncle Barnabas," promised David solemnly.
The heartiest approval came from Joe.
"That's right, Dave, see all you can of the world instead of settling down in a pasture lot at Lafferton." _