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Updated: June 23, 2025
No more dynasties, Sir Duke of Fort Canibas! You'll be having a coat of arms next!" This last was said in rude jest the public horseplay of a man anxious to win his laugh at any cost. "I've got a coat of arms, Arba; I won the decoration when I retired from hard work at the age of fifty. That was about the time you were starting in life by selling fake mining stock around this State.
They left Fort Canibas the next morning, travelling humbly by mail stage to the railroad terminus. The branch line took them to a populous junction, and by that time Harlan Thornton began to appreciate that his grandfather was rather more of a figure in State politics than he had dreamed.
His tone had been severe, but there was humor in his eyes. "This is Principal Tute, of the Canibas Seminary, Luke. You remember the cussing I got from the Finance Committee for holding up the bill till I got the Professor's appropriation doubled. He's trying to tell me how much obliged he is." Mr. Tute looked very miserable.
There was merely twitter of birds in the silver poplar that shaded his seat, busy chatter of swallows, who were plastering up their mud nests under the eaves of the old blockhouse across the road from him. It was so quiet that he could hear a tumult at the other end of the village; it was a tumult for calm Fort Canibas.
Niles savagely pinched the cartilage of his nose "and you have held the end of the cord. That's the way you've been led, you people!" The orator whirled and included his concourse of listeners as objects of arraignment. "Here's the picture of you as voters right before your eyes. Do you propose to be sheep any longer?" He put his hat on his head, and shook a hairy fist at the Duke of Fort Canibas.
Still more broadly did Thornton smile. "War Eagle" Niles, down there, was a reformer. For forty years he had been bellowing against despots and existing order, and, for the Duke of Fort Canibas, he typified "Reform!" Visionary, windy, snarling, impracticable attempts to smash the machine!
The caucus in Fort Canibas exposed the methods of "so-called reformers" as the report of it was set forth in print. And that news was a tocsin for town committeemen who had been dozing. Thelismer Thornton, House leader, party boss, knight of the old regime, and representative of all that the reformers had been inveighing against, still controlled his district. That fact was impressed upon all.
He could see that the one long street of Fort Canibas was well gridironed with teams horses munching at hitching-posts, wagons thrusting their tails into the roadway. It was quiet at Thornton's end of the village.
Secretly he had been offended by Thornton's high-handed assumption of control, ever since their talk on the morning after the Fort Canibas caucus. He had promptly recognized the political sagacity of the old man's plan.
There are fifty thousand straddlers in this State ready to jump into the camp of the men that can lick the Duke of Fort Canibas it gives a h l of a line on futures! I thought you had your eye out better."
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