The train slowed up, and stopped at a watertank, two hundred yards east of
the station, and their uncertainty was at an end.

From somewhere down the track came the detonating boom of a cannon. There
was a dash of brass, and the travellers became aware of a band playing
"Marching through Georgia." Meredith laid his hand on his companion's
shoulder. "John," he said, "John----" The cannon fired again, and there
came a cheer from three thousand throats, the shouters all unseen.

The engine coughed and panted, the train rolled on, and in another minute
it had stopped alongside the station in the midst of a riotous jam of
happy people, who were waving flags and banners and handkerchiefs, and
tossing their hats high in the air, and shouting themselves hoarse. The
band played in dumb show; it could not hear itself play. The people came
at the smoker like a long wave, and Warren Smith, Briscoe, Keating, and
Mr. Bence of Gaines were swept ahead of it. Before the train stopped they
had rushed eagerly up the steps and entered the car.

Harkless was on his feet and started to meet them. He stopped.

"What does it mean?" he said, and began to grow pale. "Is Halloway--did
McCune--have you----"

Warren Smith seized one of his hands and Briscoe the other. "What does it
mean?" cried Warren; "it means that you were nominated for Congress at
five minutes after one-o'clock this afternoon."

"On the second ballot," shouted the Judge, "just as young Fisbee planned
it, weeks ago."