ogress. We've been going
it, hell bent, ever since."

He tossed his handsome head and was about to launch into an angry
defense of himself. But my manner checked him. He began to plead. "_You_
can stop it, Sayler. Everybody out there says you can. And, if I am
reelected, I've got a good chance for the presidential nomination.
Should I get it and be elected, we could form a combination that would
interest you, I think."

It was a beautiful irony that in his conceit he should give as his
reason why I should help him the very reason why I was not sorry he was
to be beaten. For, although he was not dangerous, still he was a rival
public figure to Burbank in our state, and,--well, accidents sometimes
happen, unless they're guarded against.

"What shall I do?" I asked him.

"Stop them from passing any more black bills. Why, they've got half a
dozen ready, some of them worse even than the two they passed over
Burbank's veto, a week ago."

"For instance?"

He cited three Power Trust bills.

"But why don't _you_ stop those three?" said I. "They're under the
special patronage of Dominick. You have influence with him."

"Dominick!" he groaned. "Are you sure?" And when I nodded emphatically,
he went on: "I'll do what I can, but--" He threw up his hands.

He was off for the West that night. When he returned, his face wore the
look of doom. He had always posed for the benefit of the galleries,
especially the women in the galleries. But now he became sloven in
dress, often issued forth unshaven, and sat sprawled at his desk in the
Senate, his chin on his shirt bosom, looking vague and starting when any
one spoke to him.

Following my advice on the day when I sent him away happy, Burbank left
the capital and the state just before the five worst bills left the
committees. He was called to the bedside of his wife who, so all the
newspapers announced, was at the point of death at Colorado Springs.

While he was there nursing her as she "hovered between life and death,"
the bills were jammed through the senate and the assembly.

He telegraphed the lieutenant governor not to sign them, as he was
returning and wished to deal with them himself. He reached the capital
on a Thursday morning, sent the bills back with a "ringing" veto
message, and took the late afternoon train for Colorado Springs. It was
as good a political "grand-stand play" as ever thrilled a people.

The legislature passed the bills over his veto and adjourned