He saw these men believed that he and Ben Davison were not on terms of good friendship; on that they based their hope that he would become their candidate. They were not to be dissuaded easily, and they surrounded him, and plied him with appeals and arguments. “We’ll give you till Thursday to think it over,” they said, still hoping to win him. “We’re going to put some one up against Ben, and you’re the one we want.” Though Justin did not retreat from his declaration that it was a thing he should not consider, they observed that he did not say he would not consider it. The stirrings of ambition, the flattery of their words, and the gratifying discovery that the world regarded him now as a full-grown man, kept him from saying that. Just beyond the town, as he proceeded homeward, he was overtaken by Ben Davison, who had ridden hard after him on his pony. Ben’s face was white, his eyes unnaturally bright, and his hand shook on his bridle-rein. “I’ve been hearing that talk in town,” he began, “and I want to know about it!” Justin felt the hot blood sing in his ears. With difficulty he crowded down the violent temper that leaped for utterance. “What did you hear?” he asked. “That you intend to run against me.” Justin gave him a look that made the shining eyes shift and turn away. “Some of the farmers, and others, want you to run,” said Ben. “Yes, that is true.” “And do you intend to?” “I haven’t said that I did.” “Well, I want to know!” “What if I decline to answer?” Ben changed his tone. “It will make trouble for me, if you run. If you keep out of it I’ve got the thing cinched—they can’t beat me, for I will pull the cowboy vote. You might split that vote. I don’t say I think you could be elected, for I don’t; but it would make me a lot of trouble, and would kick up bad feeling all round.” “In what way?” said Justin, speaking coldly. He was studying Ben closely; he had never seen his face so white nor his eyes so unnaturally bright. “Well, with father, for one thing. He wouldn’t like it; he wants me to be elected, and has already spent a lot of money.” “Ben,” said Justin, speaking slowly, “you have yourself to blame largely for this stirring up of the farmers. You have made them hate you. They will put up some one against you, whether I run or not.” “They can’t beat me, unless they run some fellow who can swing the cowboy vote, and they know it. That’s why they came to you.” “Yes; they said it was.” “You told them you wouldn’t run?” “I told them I ought not consider it.” “Well, that’s right; you oughtn’t.” “But I want you to understand, Ben, that I have just as good a right to run as you have!” “I don’t think so; not while you’re working for father, and when I’m already in the race.” Mentally, Justin acknowledged that this was a point well taken. “You won’t run?” said Ben, anxiously. Justin hesitated, shifting uneasily on the high spring seat. “N-o, I hardly think I ought to.” “Thank you! I wanted to make sure.”