Now let's call off this bass-drum solo
business. Pull down your kite. To business!" He snapped his fingers
under Mr. Niles's nose.
One of those in the throng who had not smiled stepped forth and spoke
before the disconcerted "War Eagle" had recovered his voice.
"Since I am no orator, perhaps I can talk business to you,
Representative Thornton." He was a grave, repressed, earnest man, whose
sunburned face, bowed shoulders, work-stained hands, and general air
proclaimed the farmer. "We've come here on a matter of business, sir."
"Led by a buck sheep and a human windmill, eh?"
"Mr. Niles's notions of tactics are his own. I'm sorry to see him handle
this thing as he has. It was coming up in the caucus this afternoon in
the right way." Thornton was listening with interest, and the man went
on with the boldness the humble often display after long and earnest
pondering has made duty plain. "When I saw Niles pass through the street
and the crowd following, I was afraid that a matter that's very serious
to some of us would be turned into horseplay, and so I came along, too.
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