He had been afraid that she had killed herself; that her body was dead. He was afraid now, as he watched her move down the street, that something more important was dead in the girl. It was at this moment that he realized for the first time that a man had been responsible for what had come to Hetty. He wondered who the man was; and he thought it would be satisfying to say a word or two to the fellow. CHAPTER III POLITICS Jack Routt was as good as his word to Wint. Early in October, he announced his candidacy for Mayor; and he proceeded to push it. In their talk at the Caves, he had warned Wint what to expect. But in spite of that warning, Wint had looked for no more than a polite and friendly rivalry, a congenial conflict, a good-natured tussle between friends. He was to find that Routt had meant exactly what he said; that Routt as a political opponent and Routt as a friend were two very different personalities. On the heels of his open announcement that he was a candidate, Jack began a canvass of the town, and a direct and virulent assault upon Wint. Wint heard what Routt was doing first through his father. The elder Chase came home to supper one evening in a fuming rage; and he said while they were eating: “Wint, this Routt is a fine friend of yours!” Wint looked at his father in some surprise. “Why, Jack’s all right,” he declared. “All right?” Chase demanded. “Do you know what he’s doing?” “I know he’s out for Mayor. That’s all right. I’ve no string on the job. I want to be re-elected, just as a sort of a--testimonial that I’ve made good. And I intend to be re-elected. But at the same time, any one has a right to run against me.” “Nobody denies that,” his father exclaimed. “But no one has a right to hark back a year for mud to throw at you.” Wint said: “Pshaw, there’s always mud-throwing in politics.” Chase challenged: “Do you mean to say you think Routt has a right to do as he is doing?” “Well, just what is he doing?” Wint asked good-naturedly. “What is he doing? He’s saying you’re a common drunkard; that you always have been; that you are still, in secret.” Wint flushed with slow anger. “Well,” he said, “if any one believes that, they’re welcome to.” “But damn it, son, you’re not!” Chase exclaimed; and there was such a fierce rush of pride in his father’s voice that Wint was startled, and he was suddenly very happy about nothing; and he said: “I’m glad you know it, anyway, dad.” “Damn it!” Chase repeated. “Don’t you suppose I can see? Don’t you suppose I have a right to be proud of my own son, when he does something to be proud of? Your mother and I have.... Well, Wint, we’re--we’re a good deal happier than we were a year ago.” Wint said gently: “I’m only sorry I didn’t make you happy a year ago.”