“Th' public,” said Old Mike, “is a sheep, while ye do no more than just rob it. But if ye insult it, it's a wolf. Now this man insults th' people. Better cut loose from him, Jawn; he'll get ye all tor-rn to pieces.” The split came when, by suggestion of Old Mike and Big Kennedy, I refused to give my vote as alderman to a railway company asking a terminal. There were millions of dollars in the balance, and without my vote the machine and the railway company were powerless. The stress was such that the mighty Chief himself came down to Big Kennedy's saloon--a sight to make men stare! The two, for a full hour, were locked in Big Kennedy's sanctum; when they appeared I could read in the black anger that rode on the brow of the Chief how Big Kennedy had declined his orders, and now stood ready to abide the worst. Big Kennedy, for his side, wore an air of confident serenity, and as I looked at the pair and compared them, one black, the other beaming, I was surprised into the conviction that Big Kennedy of the two was the superior natural force. As the Chief reached the curb he said: “You know the meaning of this. I shall tear you in two in the middle an' leave you on both sides of the street!” “If you do, I'll never squeal,” returned Big Kennedy carelessly. “But you can't; I've got you counted. I can hold the ward ag'inst all you'll send. An' you look out for yourself! I'll throw a switch on you yet that'll send you to th' scrapheap.” “I s'ppose you think you know what you're doin'?” said the other angrily. “You can put a bet on it that I do,” retorted Big Kennedy. “I wasn't born last week.” That evening as we sat silent and thoughtful, Big Kennedy broke forth with a word. “I've got it! You're on speakin' terms with that old duffer, Morton, who's forever talkin' about bein' a taxpayer. He likes you, since you laid out Jimmy the Blacksmith that time. See him, an' fill him up with th' notion that he ought to go to Congress. It won't be hard; he's sure he ought to go somewhere, an' Congress will fit him to a finish. In two days he'll think he's on his way to be a second Marcy. Tell him that if his people will put him up, we'll join dogs with 'em an' pull down th' place. You can say that we can't stand th' dishonesty an' corruption at th' head of Tammany Hall, an' are goin' to make a bolt for better government. We'll send the old sport to Congress. He'll give us a bundle big enough to fight the machine, an' plank dollar for dollar with it. An' it'll put us in line for a hook-up with th' reform bunch in th' fight for th' town next year. It's the play to make; we're goin' to see stormy weather, you an' me, an' it's our turn to make for cover. We'll put up this old party, Morton, an' give th' machine a jolt. Th' Chief'll leave me on both sides of th' street, will he? I'll make him think, before he's through, that he's run ag'inst th' pole of a dray.” CHAPTER X--HOW JIMMY THE BLACKSMITH DIED