“If I could speak as you can--and hold the crowds--and draw in their votes---- You, a Democrat, elected from this district of shell-back Republicans who talk about the Civil War as if Morgan was still raiding the State.” Bill laughed. “Why don’t you drop politics, George? Why fool with the silly game? The people’ll never learn anything. They can always be buncoed--the asses! What did God make ’em for? To work like hell all day and then hand over most of what they’ve made to some clever chap--and thank him for taking it.” “That used to be so,” replied Helm. “But they’re waking up, Bill. All they need is the right kind of leaders.” “Meaning you?” “Meaning me,” said Helm. And his expression far removed his statement from vanity or egotism. Desbrough puffed at his pipe in silence. Presently he said: “You can count me in, George--if there’s anything I can do.” They did not shake hands. They exchanged no gushing remarks. They did not look at each other with exalted sentimentality. They simply looked--then George grinned and nodded--and said: “All right, Bill. You’re in.” A long silence. Then Desbrough: “Not that I believe in the game, old man. I don’t. I despise the people. I’d go in with the wise boys who rob them if I didn’t happen to have inherited enough to slop along on.” “How much have you got?” said George--a necessary question, as this was to be a partnership. “Nineteen hundred and fifty a year--county bonds and a farm. My law practice--I made seventy-five dollars last year.” “You won’t take anything but people too poor to pay--and then only when you think they’re being wronged by somebody with money. That’s why I asked you in.” “You didn’t----” Desbrough stopped and laughed. “Yes, you did, come to think of it. I’d never have offered if you hadn’t made me feel that you wanted me. I’d not have done it even then, if you hadn’t compelled me. How do you compel people to do things without even asking ’em, George?” For reply Helm laughed. Said he: “Nineteen hundred and fifty a year. That’s enough for you. I must have more--about five thousand a year.” “You can make it at the law.” “If the gang didn’t shut me out of the courts, when I broke with them. And if I’d take crooked cases. I’ve thought that all out. It can’t be done any more. Lincoln and the big fellows of the past could. But that was a different day. Now all the law cases worth-while--all the good fees--come from the very chaps I’ve got to attack. A lawyer who has done any business as a lawyer can go into politics in only one way--and that’s a more or less crooked way. I’ve thought it all out, Bill. I can’t afford to make an independence, and then wash up and go in on the level. I hoped I could see my way clear to do it. But--I can’t.” “But you won’t get money any other way,” said Desbrough. “And if you haven’t got the money to live on and to carry on your campaigns, why, you’re beaten in advance.”