by Thomas Dixon
CHAPTER XVII
A SKIRMISH
Norton's fighting blood was up, but he was too good a soldier and too gooda commander to rush into battle without preparation. Cleo's mask was off atlast, and he knew her too well to doubt that she would try to make good herthreat. The fire of hate that had flamed in her greenish eyes was not asudden burst of anger, it had been smoldering there for years, eating itsway into the fiber of her being.
There were three courses open.
He could accept her demand, acknowledge Helen to his son, establish her inhis home, throw his self-respect to the winds and sink to the woman'slevel. It was unthinkable! Besides, the girl would never recover from theshock. She would disappear or take her own life. He felt it withinstinctive certainty. But the thing which made such a course impossiblewas the fact that it meant his daily degradation before the boy. He wouldface death without a tremor sooner than this.
He could defy Cleo and pack Helen off to Europe on the next steamer, andrisk a scandal that would shake the state, overwhelm the party he wasleading, disgrace him not only before his son but before the world, and setback the cause he had at heart for a generation.
It was true she might weaken when confronted with the crisis that wouldmean the death of her own hopes. Yet the risk was too great to act on sucha possibility. Her defiance had in it all the elements of finality, and hehad accepted it as final.
The simpler alternative was a temporary solution which would give him timeto think and get his bearings. He could return to the campaign immediately,take Tom with him, keep him in the field every day until the election, askHelen to stay until his return, and after his victory had been achievedsettle with the woman.
It was the wisest course for many reasons, and among them not the leastthat it would completely puzzle Cleo as to his ultimate decision.
He rang for Andy:
"Ask Mr. Tom to come here."
Andy bowed and Norton resumed his seat.
When Tom entered, the father spoke with quick decision:
"The situation in this campaign, my boy, is tense and dangerous. I want youto go with me to-morrow and stay to the finish."
Tom flushed and there was a moment's pause:
"Certainly, Dad, if you wish it."
"We'll start at eight o'clock in the morning and drive through the countryto the next appointment. Fix your business at the office this afternoon,place your men in charge and be ready to leave promptly at eight. I've someimportant writing to do. I'm going to lock myself in my room until it'sdone. See that I'm not disturbed except to send Andy up with my supper.I'll not finish before midnight."
"I'll see to it, sir," Tom replied, turned and was gone.
The father had watched the boy with keen scrutiny every moment and failedto catch the slightest trace of resentment or of hesitation. The pause hehad made on receiving the request was only an instant of natural surprise.
Before leaving next morning he sent for Helen who had not appeared atbreakfast.
She hastened to answer his summons and he found no trace of anger,resentment or rebellion in her gentle face. Every vestige of the shadow hehad thrown over her life seem to have lifted. A tender smile played abouther lips as she entered the room.
"You sent for me, major?" she asked with the slightest tremor of timidityin her voice.
"Yes," he answered gravely. "I wish you to remain here until Tom and Ireturn. We'll have a conference then about your future."
"Thank you," she responded simply.
"I trust you will not find yourself unhappy or embarrassed in remaininghere alone until we return?"
"Certainly not, major, if it is your wish," was the prompt response.
He bowed and murmured:
"I'll see you soon."
Tom waved his hand from the buggy when his father's back was turned andthrew her an audacious kiss over his head as the tall figure bent to climbinto the seat. The girl answered with another from her finger tips which hecaught with a smile.
Norton's fears of Tom were soon at rest at the sight of his overflowingboyish spirits. He had entered into the adventure of the campaign from themoment he found himself alone with his father, and apparently withoutreservation.
Through every one of his exciting speeches, when surrounded by hostilecrowds, the father had watched Tom's face with a subconscious smile. At theslightest noise, the shuffle of a foot, the mutter of a drunken word, orthe movement of a careless listener, the keen eyes of the boy had flashedand his right arm instinctively moved toward his hip pocket.
When the bitter struggle had ended, father and son had drawn closer thanever before in life. They had become chums and comrades.
Norton had planned his tour to keep him out of town until after the pollsclosed on the day of election. They had spent several nights within fifteenor twenty miles of the Capital, but had avoided home.
He had planned to arrive at the speaker's stand in the Capitol Square intime to get the first returns of the election.
Five thousand people were packed around the bulletin board when theyarrived on a delayed train.
The first returns indicated that the leader's daring platform had swept thestate by a large majority. The negro race had been disfranchised and theballot restored to its original dignity. And much more had been done. Theact was purely political, but its effects on the relations, mental andmoral and physical, of the two races, so evenly divided in the South, wouldbe tremendous.
The crowds of cheering men and women felt this instinctively, though it hadnot as yet found expression in words.
A half-dozen stalwart men with a rush and a shout seized Norton and liftedhim, blushing and protesting, carried him on their shoulders through theyelling crowd and placed him on the platform.
He had scarcely begun his speech when Tom, watching his chance, slippedhurriedly through the throng and flew to the girl who was waiting withbeating heart for the sound of his footstep.
