Clive sat down again. He realized that the little heeler, for his own interest, was telling the truth in disclaiming all share in the riot’s later stages. He was curious, too, to learn what else Shevlin had to say. “So it was a Pyrrhic victory for you after all, you think?” suggested Standish. “Pyrrhic?” mused Billy, thoughtfully. “Must ’a’ run on some of the Western tracks. No skate of that name ever won a vict’ry here in the East. Someone’s been stringin’ you about that, I guess, Mr. Standish.” “Perhaps so. And you’ve come to suggest that I withdraw? Why should I?” “’Cause you ain’t got the chance a snowball has on the south slopes of Satanville. Come! Drop out an’ let’s have no hard feelin’. Conover’s got ten times your strength everywhere. An’ the strong man’s always the man that’ll win. You can dope that out——” “Not always. There was David’s fight with Goliath, for one, and——” “David who?” “A little chap who won out against a man double his size,” smiled Clive. “Goliath was what you’d call a heavyweight.” “An’ what was David’s manager doin’, puttin’ a bantam into the ring with a heavyweight? He’d ’a’ had that David person asleep in the first round. Say, Mr. Standish, I seen to-night you’re a first-rate scrapper, an’ you handle your hands fine for an amachoor. But what you don’t know about prizefights an’ racehorses’d fill a City Record. Someone’s sure been guying you good an’ plenty.” “Well, all that has nothing to do with what you came here about. You’ve got something on your mind. Speak out, can’t you?” “It’s just this,” replied Shevlin, edging his chair nearer, and lowering his voice, “you’re beat. An’ you’ve been to consid’ble expense in the campaign, an’——” “Yes?” “An’ Mr. Conover’s set his heart on bein’ Gov’nor by a good majority. An’ when he sets his heart on a thing he’s willin’ to pay well for it.” “Yes?” “So,” continued Billy, emboldened by Clive’s calmness, “what’s the matter with you an’ him fixin’ this thing up peaceable?” “How?” “I’ve got a blank check here. It was give me for expenses. Shows how the Boss trusts me, eh? Well, I’m willin’ to fill this out for $5,000 if you say, an——” Then Clive Standish picked up his caller very gently by the nape of the neck, carried him tenderly to the door, opened it and deposited him in the hall outside. Returning, he shut the door, crossed over to his bath-room and washed his hands. “Beaten?” he murmured to himself, all his fatigue and discouragement forgotten. “Not yet! When they find it worth while to try to buy me off it shows they’re still afraid. I’m in for another try at this uphill game. But first of all I’ll see Caleb Conover face to face and have it out with him. I wonder,” he speculated less belligerently, “I wonder if Anice will happen to be in when I go there?” CHAPTER VII CALEB UNDERGOES A “HOME EVENING”