to him.

"We're just starting for your place," said the doctor. "Your wife got me
on the phone."

"Thank God!" replied Bronson. "Don't fool any time away on me. Drive!"

"Get in here, Ez," said the sheriff. "Doc knows how to drive, and I'll
come on with your team. They need a slow drive to cool 'em off."

"Why didn't you phone me?" asked the doctor.

"Never thought of it," replied Bronson. "I hain't had the phone only a few
years. Drive faster!"

"I want to get there, or I would," answered the doctor. "Don't worry. From
what your wife told me over the phone I don't believe the boy's eaten any
more strychnine than I have--and probably not so much."

"He was alive, then?"

"Alive and making an argument against taking the emetic," replied the
doctor. "But I guess she got it down him."

"I'd hate to lose that boy, Doc!"

"I don't believe there's any danger. It doesn't sound like a genuine
poisoning case to me."

Thus reassured, Mr. Bronson was calm, even if somewhat tragic in calmness,
when he entered the death chamber with the doctor. Newton was sitting up,
his eyes wet, and his face pale. His mother had won the argument, and
Newton had lost his dinner. Haakon Peterson occupied an armchair.

"What's all this?" asked the doctor. "How you feeling, Newt? Any pain?"

"I'm all right," said Newton. "Don't give me any more o' that nasty
stuff!"

"No," said the doctor, "but if you don't tell me just what you've been
eating, and doing, and pulling off on us, I'll use this"--and the doctor
exhibited a huge stomach pump.

"What'll you do with that?" asked Newton faintly.

"I'll put this down into your hold, and unload you, that's what I'll do."

"Is the election over, Mr. Peterson?" asked Newton.

"Yes," answered Mr. Peterson, "and the votes counted."

"Who's elected?" asked Newton.

"Colonel Woodruff," answered Mr. Peterson. "The vote was twelve to
eleven."

"Well, dad," said Newton, "I s'pose you'll be sore, but the only way I
could see to get in half a vote for Colonel Woodruff was to get poisoned
and send you after the doctor. If you'd gone, it would 'a' been a tie,
anyhow, and probably you'd 'a' persuaded somebody to change to Bonner.
That's what's the matter with me. I killed your vote. Now, you can do
whatever you like to me--but I'm sorry I scared mother."

Ezra Bronson seized Newton by the throat, but his fingers failed to close.
"Don't pinch, dad," said Newton. "I've been using that neck an' it's