“We’re practical politicians, ain’t we? There’s different kinds of persuadin’. Mind, I’m not confessin’ anything, but I leave it to your judgment if that looks just like an accident. There wasn’t a chance in the world of his being killed, with a guy hidden in the back of the car to stop him if he got to goin’ too fast with his wheel loosened up. “Wasn’t it funny he wasn’t marred up, nothing wrong but a little tap on the head and a couple of broken legs that laid him up proper without any permanent hurt? He never guessed that he got that biff on the bean from a blackjack from behind him, and that his legs was broken nice and quiet by hand afterwards.” “You cold-blooded devil!” Forsythe began, but checked himself on second thought. After all he couldn’t afford to antagonize this crafty little man. “Look here,” he went on. “I haven’t got a thousand on hand just now, and I didn’t mean just that, but here’s a hundred cash on account, and I’ll make good on the two thousand all right if you can show you’ve put over my nomination without any more physical brutality and no danger of a comeback.” There was a little argument over it, but in the end Neenan left with his hundred and a promise that he’d earn the big money yet IV So the novel pre-convention radio campaign opened and developed presently a pitch of excitement seldom exceeded by a closely contested Presidential election. Twice a week alternately the courtesy of the capital city’s broadcasting station was extended to one of the contestants, Hammond reading his speech from his bed in his little farmhouse in the suburbs, Forsythe delivering his from the hotel suite which he had taken as headquarters till after the State convention. Harking back to the famous “Front Porch” campaigns of certain Presidential candidates, this campaign of Hammond’s was facetiously dubbed a “Bedside Campaign.” Forsythe made much of it in his glittering speeches which continued to evade anything but generalities regarding the State water power issue. On the whole the two contestants continued to run neck and neck. They continued to hold their original blocks of instructed or definitely committed delegates, each falling some ten per cent short of the required majority. And the little block of uncommitted delegates from the rural districts who held the balance of power, despite repeated rumors of a break after each radio speech, remained uncommitted and stuck together. There had been no personal mud slinging on either hand. They admired the finished oratory of Forsythe. But equally they admired Hammond’s clear, cold analysis of the power situation. They were suspending judgment until the final summing up of recommendations he promised to make when they assembled for the convention.