The squire looked forward to disbursing the fund himself, but the court-house ring still clung to it in indecision. Friday morning, when they met, election was but three days off, and the ring agreed that they must get down to business. Major Turner said, with profound wisdom, that money could be used to best advantage in the saloons. Charley Bassett--he was prosecuting attorney then--asked, with a lawyer’s passion for fine distinctions, in what sense the major employed the word “used.” Before the major could reply--he had knit his brows and was whittling a fresh chew from his plug, to irrigate his thought--old Bill Williams said: “No, that won’t do; we must use it to get out the vote.” “Well,” said Bassett, who always annoyed the old fellows with his young haggling, “how’ll you get out the vote?” The auditor, with an effort at something definite, said: “Why, we must have organization--that’s what wins in elections these days.” He shook his head, in a keen triumph, for the phrase pleased him, as phrases do please politicians. He began to conceive himself--gladly, as a great political leader, as an organizer of victory. “Organization, that’s the word,” he persisted, and then, growing bolder, he brought his fist down on his fat knee, and plunged on heedlessly into detail. “You just give me that fund,” he said, “and I’ll--I’ll show you,” he brought up lamely. “Well, tell us how you’d spend it,” insisted Bassett. “What’d you buy first? Remember, election’s only next Tuesday.” “Why, why,” hesitated Williams, “I’d spend it gittin’ out the vote. I’d git kerriages, and have signs painted to hang on the horses, readin’,” and he lined the imaginary letters on the rough palm of his left hand with the gnarled forefinger of his right, “‘Republican City Committee--Vote for Goddard.’” The old squire, tickled with the sound of the last legend, broke in with: “You’ve got the idee, Billy.” “Course,” said Williams, expanding more and more, “I seen ’em that way when I was in Columbus onct, on ’lection day. Get about five good two-horse kerriages--” But the captious Bassett, remembering that old Bill’s son-in-law, Hi Wellman, kept the livery stable, interrupted him by saying: “Oh, that wouldn’t cost more’n twenty dollars, and, anyway, we can use our own buggies, same as we’ve always done.” Captain Bishop, who had been carefully combing his whiskers with his fingers, then advanced his scheme. “Seems to me,” he said, “that we’d ought to have a campaign committee, with a treasur’ and a finance committee, and let the treasur’ pay out only on warrants drawed by the finance committee--then there’d be no question.” “No, there’d be no question,” said Bassett cynically, “there’d be no question. And the finance committee could draw warrants for their own arrest, while they’re about it.”