The lawyer did not immediately reply. He was not ordinarily at a loss for words or decisions in his dealings with men, but this rude, uncouth rustic, with his confident air and his fund of primordial cunning, puzzled him. There was some uneasiness in the feeling, too, for he could not remember the exact limits of his confidences with Milton. Moreover he could not afford, at any price, to quarrel with him now on the eve of the Convention. “After the election we’ll clip your wings, my fine fellow,” he thought to himself, but he gave the words upon which he finally decided a kindlier turn. “Yes, I hear you. Almost anybody on the side-hill could, the way you are talking. There is no reason why you should lose your temper. If you couldn’t fix Beekman, why that’s all there is to it. We must go at it in a different way. I can see through him. He’s standing out for a cash payment. The old fox wants money down.” “Well, you’ve got it fur him, hain’t yeh? Go ’n’ give it to him, straight aout!” “But that’s it--I wanted you to bring back an idea of his figure.” “His figger. How much hev yeh got?” “Never mind that--it’s a d----d sight more than the office is worth; but when a man gets into a fight of this sort, he’s got to force his way through, cost or no cost.” “Air yeh sure it can’t be traced? Wuz yeh careful to raise it so nobuddy cud spot yeh, and give aout that yeh got so much money together for purposes o’ bribery?” “Yes, it is perfectly safe. There is no record.” “’N’ nobuddy on airth knaows yeh’ve got th’ money?” “Not a living soul!” The two men communed together as to the importance of immediate action. The Convention was to reassemble at Tyre, fifteen miles away, at eleven the following forenoon. The political master of Jay County, Abe Beekman, who held in his hands the deciding power, lived near Tyre, but in the valley some miles further on. The first train from Thessaly in the morning would be too late, for Beekman would have already arrived on the ground at Tyre, coming from the opposite direction, and would have begun work on his own hook. He must be seen at his home, early in the morning. The question was--how to encompass this. “You might drive across to-night,” Albert suggested; “it can’t be more than twenty miles. It’s a bad, up-hill road, but four or five hours ought to do it, easily enough. By George--I believe I’ll go myself--start at once, see Beekman about daybreak, and then come back to Tyre by breakfast time; as if I had just driven over from here. No one will suspect a thing.” “Yes, thet’s a fust-rate idee,” assented Milton; “only be keerful ’n’ put yer money in a safe place.” The lawyer again slapped his breast with a confident “Never fear about that,” and went to the house to get some wraps for the night ride, leaving Milton to harness the grays, and drag out the sidebar buggy with the pole. The hired-man hummed to himself as he moved quietly, dextrously in the semi-darkness in the performance of this task.