A little later, the agitated town marshal, flanked by the town drunkard and the one-legged Mr. Fryback, viewed with no little dismay a group of women congregated in front of Parr's drygoods store. In the centre of this group was the new candidate for town marshal. Alf Reesling stopped short and said something under his breath. His wife was one of Miss Stitzenberg's most attentive listeners. [Illustration: _In the centre of this group was the new candidate for town marshal_] Marshal Crow was not disheartened. He knew that Minnie Stitzenberg could not defeat him at the polls. The thing that rankled was the fact that a woman had been selected to run against him. It was an offence to his dignity. The leaders of the People's Party made it quite plain that they did not consider him of sufficient importance to justify anything so dignified as masculine opposition! On the day of the Republican Convention, which was to be held in the town hall in the evening, Anderson went in despair and humility to Harry Squires, the reporter. "Harry," he said, "I been thinkin' it over. I can't run ag'in a woman. It goes ag'in the grain. If I beat her, I'd never be able to look anybody in the face, an' if she beats me--why, by gosh, I couldn't even look myself in the face. So I'm goin' to decline the nomination tonight." He was rather pathetic, and Harry Squires was touched. He had a great fondness for the old marshal, notwithstanding his habit of poking fun at him and ridiculing him in the _Banner_. He laid his hand on the old man's arm and there was genuine warmth in his voice as he spoke to him. "Anderson, we can't allow you to withdraw. It would be the vilest thing the people of this town could do if they turned you out of office after all these years of faithful service. We--" "Can't be helped, Harry," said Anderson firmly. "I won't run ag'in a woman, so that's the end of it." Harry looked cautiously around, and then, leaning a little closer, said: "I know something that would put Minnie in the soup, clean over her head. All I've got to do is to tell what I know about--" "Hold on, Harry," broke in the marshal sternly. "Is it somethin' ag'in her character?" "It's something that would prevent every man, woman and child in Tinkletown from voting for her," said Harry. "Somethin' scand'lous?" demanded Anderson, perking up instantly. "Decidedly. A word from me and--" "Wait a second. Is--is there a man in the case?" "A _man_?" cried Harry. "Bless your soul, Anderson, there are fifty men in it." Anderson fell back a step or two. For a moment or two he was speechless. "Sakes alive! _Fifty?_ For goodness' sake, Harry, are you sure?" "Not exactly. It may be sixty," amended Harry. "We could easily find out just how many--"