“So’m I, then,” cheerfully responded Billy. “D’ye know, Boss, I’m kind o’ glad. Sometimes I’ve suspicioned politics wasn’t—well, wasn’t quite square. Maybe it’s best that two pious men like us is out of it. Now, say, Mister Conover,” he hurried on more seriously, “I know what you mean. You want to shake the whole bunch. You’re sore on ’em all. You’re goin’ to cut out Granite, too, after the lemon you’ve been handed. But whatever your game is an’ wherever you spiel it, it won’t do you no harm to have Billy Shevlin along with you as a ‘also-ran.’ Now, will it? Why, Boss, I’ve worked for you ever since I was no bigger’n—no bigger’n Staatz’s chances of becomin’ a white man. An’ I ain’t goin’ to cut out the old job at this time of day. If it ain’t Caleb Conover, Governor, I work for, then it’ll be Caleb Conover, Something-or-other. An’ that’s good enough for W. Shevlin. So let’s let it go at that. I won’t bother you no more to-night, ’cause I see you’re on edge. But I’m comin’ around in the mornin’. An’ when I come I’m comin’ for keeps. Just like I’ve always done. So long, Boss.” “Poor old Billy!” muttered Conover as the Shevlin slipped out too hurriedly to permit of his Leader’s framing any reply to what was quite the longest speech the henchman had ever made. “He’ll never make a hit in politics till he gets rid of some of that loyalty. Next to gratitood there ain’t another vice that hampers a man so bad.” Then, dismissing the recent events from his mind, the Railroader ran downstairs, lightly as a boy, and to the outer entrance, where Dunderberg was plunging and pivoting in the grip of two grooms. A third groom, mounted on a quieter steed, sat well beyond range of the stallion’s lashing heels. Late as it was, Mrs. Conover was still up. Caleb brushed past her in the hall, cutting short the feeble remonstrances with which she always prefaced one of his wild rides. “Oh, Caleb!” she pleaded as she followed him out on the broad veranda. “Not to-night, dear! Just give it up this once, to please ME! He’s—he’s such a terrible horse. I never saw him so wild as he is now. The men can scarcely hold him. Oh, please——” [Illustration: “All right!” shouted Conover, in glorious excitement. “All right! Let him go! Never mind the hat.” Page 313.] But the Railroader was already preparing to mount. “Don’t you worry, old girl,” he called back over his shoulder; “he’s none too wild for my taste. There never was a horse yet could get the best of me.” The wind was rising again. It whistled across the grounds, ruffling the puddles and stirring the dead leaves. A whiff of it caught Conover’s hat as he fought his way to the plunging stallion’s back. The exultance of coming battle was already upon both rider and horse. “Your hat, sir!” called one of the grooms, as another sprang forward to catch the falling headgear. But Caleb had no mind to wait for trifles. The night wind was in his face, the furious horse whirling and rearing between his vice-like knee-grip.