There were and parades and “rallies” and sidewalk discussions and even fights, in all of which the boys, and the girls, too, took lively interest.
At school the were given over, for the most part, to debate. Ned’s father was a Republican, Ned was what his father was, and Bob was what Ned was; Mr. Lucas was a , therefore Hal was a Democrat; Tom had no father living, and so he sided with neither cause, but said that he “didn’t care.”
{
“
Eat old dead rats!”
sang Ned and his crowd.
{
“Republicans
Lick old tin pans!”
retorted Hal and his fellow .
Whereupon the Republicans claimed the best of the argument.
Nobody in Beaufort was more faithful in attending the various political meetings than was Ned. With eyes and ears alert he accompanied his father; or else, doing as he pleased, tagged the band about through the streets until it brought up at hall or opera house. He sat or stood, squeezed in, the whole evening through, listening to declare what great and wise things their party had done, and what mean and foolish things the other parties had done. In case it was a Republican meeting he cheered in triumph; in case it was the (for he did not limit himself to the one) he cheered “just for fun.” Thus he was able to do lots of shouting, and went home hot, , and full of enthusiasm.
Of all the meetings in the town during the campaign, the crowning one occurred as follows:
“Hello!” exclaimed Mr. , glancing over The Evening .
“What is it?” inquired his wife, while Ned, near, was at once all ears.
“Why, I see by The Clarion that Senator Lipp is to be here on the twenty-ninth, and we’re going to have the biggest Republican rally ever held in the county,” explained her husband.
“Say——” cried Ned, , and forgetful of his recent promise.
“Gun!” said his mother.
“Oh, I didn’t mean to. It slipped out before I thought,” excused Ned.
“Well, don’t let it slip in again,” laughed his mother.
“There’ll be a big parade around the town, up at the opera house,” continued Mr. Miller, skimming through the article. “All the outside places are to be invited to send marching clubs. It’s the last rally before election, and it will be a whooper.”
“Oh, father! I want to march! Can I?” begged Ned.
“Certainly,” replied his father, unexpectedly. “Go ahead.”
“But I mean march in the parade,” persisted Ned.
“We’ll see,” responded his father.
“But I’m sure they don’t want boys fussing round them,” objected Mrs. Miller.
“Yes, they do, mother,” quickly corrected Ned. “Lots of boys march.”
“I’m afraid that they’ll gladly take anybody large enough to carry a torch,” confessed Mr. Miller.
“The idea!” exclaimed his wife, shocked by this give-away of political methods.
As time wore on, the approaching rally grew to proportions, and kept Ned busy talking about its numerous phases.
The Clarion columns of space to it, and the town was well plastered with posters with points and heavy type.
As to his marching, Ned now had not the slightest doubt. His father said nothing more upon the subject, and silence gave consent.
“My father says we’re going to have a monster rally, too; the night before election,” at last Hal declared, in retort to Ned’s vauntings.
“’Twon’t be as big as ours,” asserted Ned.
“’Twill, I bet,” returned Hal, sticking up for the honor of the Democratic party. “And I’m going to march!”
“Are you?” Ned, feeling as though some of the polish had been taken off his own future.
Of course, there was the remote chance that rain would with the Republicans, or that in some other way the Democrats would be led to outdo them.
“Say—no, I didn’t mean that; but I tell you what,” he proposed, suddenly: “you march with me in our parade, and I’ll march with you in yours!”
“All right,” agreed Hal. “You don’t suppose they’ll care, do you?”
By “they” he referred to Republicans and Democrats in general, who might be disposed to resent such an exchange.
“I guess not,” hazarded Ned. “It evens up, you know. And then, we’re only kids.”
The day of the parade came, and dawned upon a town already gay with bunting and banners. As the sun rose higher, and peeped into the streets, seemingly at the touch of his rays other bunting and banners unfolded. By noon Republican Beaufort was in gala . Democratic Beaufort gazed, and resolved:
“Just wait until our turn, next week.”
of the Republican candidates were displayed on all sides, in windows and attached to flags from upper stories; cheese-cloth, bearing mottoes and portraits, spanned the downtown streets and stretched across corners; through the ordinary channels of business and private affairs ran a current of excitement.
“So you’re going to march, are you, Ned?” remarked his father, that noon, at dinner.
“Don’t, Neddie,” begged his mother. “You’ll get all covered with dirt and grease; and I’m sure the sight of you in the ranks won’t influence many voters.”
“But I’ve promised Hal to march in his parade if he’ll march in mine,” explained Ned. “And he’ll be mad if I back out. I’ll wear my old clothes.”
Mrs. Miller sighed and looked, for support, at her husband. However, not having Ned’s garments to clean, he was filled only with amusement.
As the afternoon wore on, the from outside points began to arrive. In the shape of marching clubs, with wild cheers they tumbled off from incoming trains, and forming at the paraded up town, bands playing and people shouting. Or as farmers’ families they in by wagon-loads, and tying the horses around the court-house square wandered through the streets.
In the schoolroom Ned and his fellow prisoners could hear the cries and music and sound of heavy wheels, and to be free. With the welcome four o’clock bell they poured abroad, quite certain that there were a thousand new things to see.
This afternoon Bob sat at the front gate and waited in vain. He was cut out by politics.
His master, who had found much to do in watching the , and not missing what the streets also had to offer, did not appear until nearly supper time.
“Here you are, Ned,” called Mr. Miller, Clarion in hand. “This means you: ‘Marchers not attached to any organization may obtain their uniforms at Room 6, Shinn Block. It is requested that the uniforms be returned here, either immediately after the meeting, or to-morrow.’”
“Good!” cried Ned. “What kind of uniform?”
“Oh, nothing very extra, you’ll find,” replied his father, destroying Ned’s visions of epaulets and a cocked hat.
“But it will serve to keep your clothes from the oil and , I hope,” voiced the mother.
Ned through his chores, and bolted a hasty supper. Hal whistled for him, and ruthlessly shutting in the barn the luckless Bob—who would have been unhappy, anyway, with so many bands playing in his ears, and so many feet to dodge—he scooted off.
“We’ll watch for you, when the parade comes past the corner,” cried his mother, after him; for the line of march led within a block of the house.
Already streams of people, mostly men and boys, some even now in uniform, were flowing toward the business centre of town; and that business centre itself was a fascinating scene of , as the marchers, in a variety of costumes, strode the walks, or loitered at their points of assembly.
For Ned and Hal, the first thing to do was to get uniforms. Until they had some trappings they could not feel as though they amounted to much.
Room 6, Shinn Block, fairly was with persons after uniforms. In one corner was a pile of , near by was a stack of caps, and in another corner were sheaves of torches. Evidently all that was necessary to do was to walk up, pick out an , and leave.
The two boys sidled in, and had just seized upon a apiece when they were interrupted by a man who from beside the door was overseeing things.
“Hey, you kids! What are you doing with those capes?” he demanded, gruffly.
Ned and Hal, startled and , dropped their spoils.
“We’re going to march,” Ned.
“Oh, that’s all right. It’s Will Miller’s boy,” explained somebody in the room, coming to the rescue. “Let him march.”
“And isn’t that young Lucas?” queried somebody else. “Is your father going to march with us to-night, too, sonny?”
“No, he isn’t!” retorted Hal, hotly. “He’s going to be in a lots bigger parade than this, next week!”
Amid the teasing laughter which greeted this sally the boys snatched cape and cap and torch, and fled lest yet they might be stopped.
The capes were of blue oilcloth, and at the throat. The caps also were of oilcloth, but red, and were round, with a flat top and heavy visor. The torches consisted of a long staff, at the end of which swung a can containing and a wick.
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