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Updated: June 24, 2025
He came down from his chair, carefully stepping on the roots, and loomed above Mr. Niles, amiable, tolerant, serene. His wrinkled crash suit, in whose ample folds his mighty frame bulked, contrasted oddly with the dusty, rusty black in which Mr. Niles defied the heat of the summer day. "Now I am down where I can talk business, Ivus. What's the matter with you?"
And it's going to have a stop put to it!" "Go ahead, Ivus!" encouraged his object of attack. "If she's as sick as all that, she needs medicine quick. Get out your dose." "The people is going to be reckoned with now," declaimed Niles, banging his knotted fist against the boarding.
The word seemed suddenly to have acquired novel meaning for him. "They must have been pussy-footin' for a month. You could have knocked me down with your cigar-butt, Squire, when I got in here to-day and found how she stood. If it hadn't been for War Eagle Ivus and his buck sheep breakin' out, they'd have ambuscaded ye, surer'n palm-leaf fans can't cool the kitchen o' hell.
Thornton, don't put us all on the plane of Ivus Niles." The Duke was not ruffled by the interruption. "Walt, I've been in politics a good many years. I was in the House in this State when Jim Blaine was there reporting for his newspaper. I want to tell you that when you get next to the real thing in politics you'll find that this people thing the capital-letter idea is a dream. Yes, it is, now!
As a politician older than any of them, a man who had served his district fifty years in the legislature, he refused to believe intrenched there in his fortress in the north that there was danger abroad in the State. "Reformers, eh?" He sneered the word aloud in the big room of echoes. "Well, I can show them one up here. There's Ivus Niles!"
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