The 13th District: A Story of a CandidateWhitlock, Brand
General
The 13th District: A Story of a Candidate
Whitlock, Brand
Didactic fiction; Elections -- Fiction; Political campaigns -- Fiction; Political fiction; Social problems -- Fiction
"Yes, you're right, but that time's gone by now, no use cryin' over
spilt milk. We've got to face the present. We owe a good many bills,
some fer printin', an'--"
"Can't they wait till after election?"
"Oh, maybe they might, but I hate to ask 'em; it wouldn't help us any.
The postage--well, I've paid all that out o' my own pocket."
"You know how I appreciate that, Jim, don't you?"
"Oh, that's all right," said Rankin, waving his gratitude aside. "Then
there's the _Citizen_ an' some other papers over the district, they're
beginning to clamor fer the'r money."
"It's a regular hold-up, isn't it?" said Garwood.
"That's what you've got to expect in politics," said Rankin. "But
if that 'as all we might take care of it. The situation has taken a
curious turn this last week."
"How's that?" asked Garwood, who had suffered from a candidate's
myopia, and could not note the numerous turns a situation takes during
a campaign.
"Well, it's this way. The committees is all kickin' because your
assessments hasn't been paid. I've been tryin' to make a poor man's
campaign fer you, an' I've succeeded pretty well so fur, if I do say
it myself. But the boys needs money everywhere; they want to finish up
the'r poll, and over in Moultrie, where we had to deal with the Sprague
kickers, a little money has just _got_ to be used, that's all."
"I thought you'd fixed Sprague?"
"Well, I made him come down, o' course, but I wouldn't trust the dirty
whelp out o' my sight on'y when I could see him, as the old widow woman
said of her grandson, an' I think we ought to pay the assessment over
there anyway."
"How much is it?" asked Garwood, with the pain an unrendered bill can
give one.
"Two hundred," said Rankin. "The boys over there say--shall I tell you
what they say?"
"Yes; go on, I can stand anything nowadays."
"Well, they say that now you're goin' to marry ol' man Harkness's
daughter, you'd ought to get him to put up fer you."
Garwood, in his hoarse voice, swore an oath.
"Well, I'm just tellin' you what they say. They're sayin' that right
here to home, an' they're sayin' it pretty much all over the district.
They think Harkness is made o' money, an' that it 'uld be easy fer him
to put up some."
"Have they ever known him to put up any for a campaign?" asked Garwood
with a sardonic smile that Rankin could not see in the gloom.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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