The reputable old gentleman had grounds for hesitation. Our enemy, the Chief, was not without his allies among the dailies of that hour. The Chief was popular in certain glutton circles. He still held to those characteristics of a ready, laughing, generous recklessness that marked him in a younger day when, as head of a fire company, with trousers tucked in boots, red shirt, fire helmet, and white coat thrown over arm, he led the ropes and cheered his men. But what were excellent as traits in a fireman, became fatal under conditions where secrecy and a policy of no noise were required for his safety. He was headlong, careless; and, indifferent to discovery since he believed himself secure, the trail of his wrongdoing was as widely obvious, not to say as unclean, as was Broadway. “Yes,” said the reputable old gentleman, “the great thing is to pitch upon a proper paper.” “There's the _Dally Tory?_” suggested Big Kennedy. “It's a very honest sheet,” said the reputable old gentleman approvingly. “Also,” said Big Kennedy, “the Chief has just cut it out of th' City advertisin', d'ye see, an' it's as warm as a wolf.” For these double reasons of probity and wrath, the _Daily Tory_ was agreed to. The reputable old gentleman would put himself in touch with the _Daily Tory_ without delay. “Who is this Chief of Tammany?” asked the reputable old gentleman, towards the close of the conference. “Personally, I know but little about him.” “He'd be all right,” said Big Kennedy, “but he was spoiled in the bringin' up. He was raised with th' fire companies, an' he made th' mistake of luggin' his speakin' trumpet into politics.” “But is he a deep, forceful man?” “No,” returned Big Kennedy, with a contemptuous toss of the hand. “If he was, you wouldn't have been elected to Congress. He makes a brash appearance, but there's nothin' behind. You open his front door an' you're in his back yard.” The reputable old gentleman was bowing us out of his library, when Big Kennedy gave him a parting word. “Now remember: my name aint to show at all.” “But the honor!” exclaimed the reputable old gentleman. “The honor of this mighty reform will be rightfully yours. You ought to have it.” “I'd rather have Tammany Hall,” responded Big Kennedy with a laugh, “an' if I get to be too much of a reformer it might queer me. No, you go in an' do up th' Chief. When he's rubbed out, I intend to be Chief in his place. I'd rather be Chief than have th' honor you tell of. There's more money in it.” “Do you prefer money to honor?” returned the reputable old gentleman, somewhat scandalized. “I'll take th' money for mine, every time,” responded Big Kennedy. “Honor ought to have a bank account. The man who hasn't anything but honor gets pitied when he doesn't get laughed at, an' for my part I'm out for th' dust.”