"Let the matter drop here, you understand? Col. Montjoy is not in the trade. I am acting upon my own responsibility. Call on me in town to-morrow; I will put up the money. Now, not a word. We will go back." They strolled forward and the discussion of the situation went on. Robley grew hopeful and as they parted for the night whispered a few words to Norton. As the latter carried the lamp to Edward's room, he said: "What does this all mean; you and Robley----" "Simply," said Edward, "that I am in my first political campaign and to win at any cost." Norton looked at him in amazement and then laughed aloud. "You roll high! We shall win if you don't fail us." "Then you shall win." They shook hands and parted. Norton passing his sister's room, paused in thought, knocked lightly, and getting no reply, went to bed. Edward turned in, not to sleep. His mind in the silent hours rehearsed its horrors. He arose at the sound of the first bell and left for the city, not waiting for breakfast. CHAPTER XIII. FEELING THE ENEMY. Edward Morgan plunged into the campaign with an energy and earnestness that charmed the younger Montjoy and astonished the elder. Headquarters were opened, typewriters engaged, lists of prominent men and party leaders obtained and letters written. Col. Montjoy was averse to writing to his many personal friends in the district anything more than a formal announcement of his candidacy over his own signature. "That is all right, father, but if you intend to stick to that idea the way to avoid defeat is to come down now." But the old gentleman continued to use his own form of letter. It read: "My Dear Sir: I beg leave to call your attention to my announcement in the Journal of this city, under date of July 13, wherein, in response to the demands of friends, I consented to the use of my name in the nomination for congressman to represent this district. With great respect, I am, sir, your obedient servant, "Norton L. Montjoy." He dictated this letter, gave the list to the typewriter, and announced that when the letters were ready he would sign them. The son looked at him quizzically: "Don't trouble about that, father. You must leave this office work to us. I can sign your name better than you can. If you will get out and see the gentlemen about the cotton warehouses you can help us wonderfully. You can handle them better than anybody in the world." The colonel smiled indulgently on his son and went off. He was proud of the success and genius of his one boy, when not grieved at his departure from the old-school dignity. And then Norton sat down and began to dictate the correspondence, with the list to guide him.