mostly lied to me--they're not for
me--excepting, maybe, Captain Morton, who tried to say he was opposed to
me--but couldn't--quite. No--Doctor--no--Market Street didn't fool me."

He was so suave about it, so naive, and yet so cock-sure of his success,
that the Doctor was impatient: "Tom," he piped, "I tell you, they're too
strong to bluff and too many to buy. You can't make it."

The younger man shut one eye, knocked with his tongue on the roof of his
mouth, and then said as he looked insolently into the Doctor's face:

"Well, to begin--what's your price?"

The Doctor flushed; his loose skin twitched around his nostrils, and he
gripped his chair arms. He did not answer for nearly a minute, during
which the Judge tilted back in his chair beside the desk and looked at
the elder man with some show of curiosity, if not of interest.

"My price," sneered the Doctor, "is a little mite low to-day. It's a
pelt--a hound pup's pelt and you are going to furnish it, if you'll stop
strutting long enough for me to skin you!"

The two men glared at each other. Then Van Dorn, regaining his poise,
answered: "Well, sir, I'm going to win--no matter how--I'm going to win.
I've sat up with this situation every night for six months--Oh, for a
year. I know it backwards and forwards, and you can't trip me any place
along the line. I've counted you out." He went on smiling:

"What have I done that is not absolutely legal? This is a government of
law, Doctor--not of hysteria. The trouble with you," the Judge settled
down to an upright position in his chair, "is that you're an old maid.
You're so--so" he drawled the "so" insolently, "damn nice. You're an old
maid, and you come from a family of old maids. I warrant your
grandmother and her mother before her were old maids. There hasn't been
a man in your family for five generations." The Doctor rose, Van Dorn
went on arrogantly, "Doctor James Nesbit, I'm not afraid of you. And
I'll tell you this: If you make a fight on me in this contest, when I'm
elected, we'll see if there isn't one less corrupt boss in this state
and if Greeley County can't contribute a pompadour to the rogues'
gallery and a tenor voice to the penitentiary choir."

During the harangue of the Judge, the Doctor's full lips had begun to
twitch in a smile, and his eyes to twinkle. Then he chirped gaily:

"Heap o' steam for the size of the load and weight of your biler, Tom.
Better hoop 'em up!"

And with a laugh, shakin