The man who had been bought sat not far from Uncle Billy. He was a
furtive, untidy slouch of a man, formerly a Republican; he had a great
capacity for "handling the coloured vote" and his name was
Pixley. Hurlbut mistrusted him; the young man had that instinct, which
good leaders need, for feeling the weak places in his following; and
he had the leader's way, too, of ever bracing up the weakness and
fortifying it; so he stopped, four or five times a day, at Pixley's
desk, urging the necessity of standing fast for the "Breaker," and
expressing convictions as to the political future of a Democrat who
should fail to vote for it; to which Pixley assented in his husky,
tough-ward voice.

All day long now, Hurlbut and his lieutenants, disregarding the
routine of bills, went up and down the lines, fending off the
lobbyists and such Republicans as were working openly for the bill.
They encouraged and threatened and never let themselves be too
confident of their seeming strength. Some of those who were known, or
guessed, to be of the "weaker brethren" were not left to themselves
for half an hour at a time, from their breakfasts until they went to
bed. There was always at elbow the "_Hold fast_!" whisper of
Hurlbut and his lieutenants. None of them ever thought of speaking to
Uncle Billy.

Hurlbut's "work was cut out for him," as they said. What work it is to
keep every one of fifty men honest under great temptation for three
weeks (which time it took for the hampered and filibustered bill to
come up for its passage or defeat), is known to those who have tried
to do it. The railroads were outraged and incensed by the measure;
they sincerely believed it to be monstrous and thievish. "Let the