; he looked at me inquiringly. "Nothing," said I. "Only an old
joke--as old as human nature. Go on."

"Christmas day," he continued; "I didn't get to him until next morning.
I can't figure out just why they invited me into their combine."

But I could figure it out, easily. If I had died, my power would have
disintegrated and Woodruff would have been of no use to them. When they
were sure I was going to live, they had to have him because he might be
able to assassinate me, certainly could so cripple me that I would--as
they reasoned--be helpless under their assaults. But it wasn't necessary
to tell Woodruff this, I thought.

"Well," said I, "and what happened?"

"Burbank gave me a dose of his 'great and gracious way'--you ought to
see the 'side' he puts on now!--and turned me over to Goodrich. He had
been mighty careful not to give himself away any further than that. Then
Goodrich talked to me for three solid hours, showing me it was my duty
to the party as well as to myself to join him and Burbank in eliminating
the one disturber of harmony--that meant you."

"And didn't they tell you they'd destroy you if you didn't?"

"Oh, that of course," he answered indifferently.

"Well, what did you do?"

"Played with 'em till I was elected. Then I dropped Goodrich a line.
'You can go to hell,' I wrote. 'I travel only with men'."

"Very imprudent," was my comment.

"Yes," he admitted, "but I had to do something to get the dirt off my
hands."

"So Burbank has gone over to Goodrich!" I went on presently, as much to
myself as to him.

"I always knew he was one of those chaps you have to keep scared to keep
straight," said Woodruff. "They think your politeness indicates fear and
your friendship fright. Besides, he's got a delusion that his popularity
carried the West for him and that you and I did him only damage."
Woodruff interrupted himself to laugh. "A friend of mine," he resumed,
"was on the train with Scarborough when he went East to the meeting of
Congress last month. He tells me it was like a President-elect on the
way to be inaugurated. The people turned out at every cross-roads, even
beyond the Alleghanies. And Burbank knows it. If he wasn't clean daft
about himself he'd realize that if it hadn't been for you--well, I'd
hate to say how badly he'd have got left. But then, if it hadn't been
for you, he'd never have been governor. He was a dead one, and you
hauled him out of the tomb."

True enough. But what di