The speaker paused and glanced across at Peabody, who, however, was too busily engaged in writing in a memorandum book to notice him.
"Why, Senator Stevens," went on the lobbyist, "only to-day a Down East member held me up to tell me that he was strong for that proposition to give the A.K. and L. railroad grants of government timber land in Oregon. He says to me, he says: 'What'n h--l do my constituents in New England care about things 'way out on the Pacific Coast? I'd give 'em Yellowstone National Park for a freight sidin' if 'twas any use to 'em,' he says. So you see--"
"I must go," broke in Stevens, rising and glancing at his watch. "It will soon be daylight."
"If you must have sleep, go; but you must be here at 9 o'clock sharp in the morning," said Peabody. "Steinert will sleep here with me. We'll all have breakfast together here in my rooms and a final consultation."
"You won't plan anything really desperate, Peabody, will you? I think I'd rather--"
"Nonsense, Stevens, of course not. Our game will be to try to weaken Langdon, to prove to him in the morning that he alone will suffer, because our names do not appear in the land deals. The options were signed and the deeds signed by our agents. Don't you see? Whereas his daughter and son and future son-in-law actually took land in their own names."
"Yes. Such amateurism lowers the dignity of the United States Senate," Peabody answered, dryly.
"But suppose Langdon does not weaken?" asked Stevens, anxiously, as he picked up his hat and coat.
"Then we will go into action with our guns loaded," was the reply.
In the African jungle dwells a pretty little bird that lives on honey. The saccharine dainty is there found in the hollows of trees and under the bark, where what is known as the carpenter bee bores and deposits his extract from the buds and blossoms of the tropical forest.
The bird is called the "honeybird" because it is a sure guide to the deposits of the delicacy. The bird dislikes the laborious task of pecking its way through the bark to reach the honey, and so, wise in the ways of men, it procures help. It locates a nest of honey, then flies about until it sees some natives or hunters, to whom it shows itself. They know the honeybird and know that it will lead them to the treasure store. Following the bird, which flits just in advance, they reach the cache of dripping sweetness and readily lay it open with hatchets or knives. Taking what they want, there is always enough left clinging to the tree and easily accessible to satisfy the appetite of the clever little bird.