"It's all right, it's all right, Jerry," Rankin protested, waving his hand assuringly toward Garwood. "I only wanted to know that you felt all right about it, that's all." His great red face smiled on Garwood like a forgiven boy's. But suddenly it hardened again into the face of a man. "You were right--I couldn't 'a' done nothin' 'ith Pusey, damn him. My way's different from yourn. Maybe yourn's right. You believe in conciliatin' 'em; I believe in killin' 'em off. An' your way won, that's all. What 'id you have to promise him?" Garwood was leaning back again, and had pressed the tips of his fingers together. "Jim," he said, beginning slowly, "I've learned a good deal about politics. I learned a good deal from you, and I picked up a good deal down at Washington during the session, and the chief thing I've learned is to go slow on promises. I told him, of course, that I'd take care of him. I told him that there was no use in our being enemies, none whatever; that we could just as well work together for the party's good, and accomplish more that way than by keeping up a bitter factional war here in the county, because the first thing we knew we'd wake up some cold morning in November to find that the other fellows were all in and we were all out." Rankin's gaze was fixed afar. His brows had knitted themselves into a scowl. "You had to tell him that, did you?" "I did tell him that, yes. Why?" "Well--I don't jus' like this thing o' gettin' thick 'ith him, so sudden, that's all. Who's goin' to run the campaign fer you this time?" "Why, who would run it but you?" "Me?" said Rankin, smiling again all over. "You want me? An' what's Pusey goin' to have to do?" "Oh, we'll let him print editorials," laughed Garwood. "That's all right," said Rankin, "jus' so's I don't have to see him, that's all." Garwood scrutinized Rankin closely an instant, and once more he leaned over in his persuasive way and laid his hand on Rankin's knee. "Look here, Jim," he said, "I want you and Pusey to be friends." Rankin shrank from the thought. "Yes, you must--now listen to me--I demand it. I want no mistakes made. I want you all to work harmoniously this fall, and a little ill-feeling right here in our camp may beat us. We've got a fight on our hands; I'm half afraid of those Sprague fellows. They'll have their knives out, and we've got to hold together; above all we've got to keep Pusey in line, for the Sprague fellows here don't feel any too good about his having come over to me, and Pusey has a following. More than that, he's got a newspaper, and he can make it tell. We've got to keep in with him, and I want you to patch up a truce with him. You must, do you hear?" Garwood gave Rankin's knee a shake. "Do you hear?" "Well, if you say so, Jerry," he consented presently, "it'll have to be. Whatever you say goes, o' course, but the truce'll be a damned sight more out'ard than in'ard 'ith me, I tell you that." "No, you mustn't feel that way, Jim; you mustn't."