“You hadn’t any right to do it,” Wint insisted; but he was weakening. Nothing is so disarming as acquiescence; and when a man condemns himself, it is human nature to wish to defend him. “I know it,” Amos repeated. “I ain’t got a word to say, Wint. Except that I’ll help to straighten things out so you won’t have to serve.” Wint looked puzzled for a moment. “I--what’s that?” “I say, I’ll help you fix things so you won’t have to take it.” “What makes you think I don’t want to take it?” Amos spread out his hands like a man who has nothing to conceal. “Why, that’s common sense. I’d ought to have knowed. It’s a hard job. Prob’ly you couldn’t swing it. Anyway, it means work, and stickin’ to the grindstone; and you’re a young fellow. You like your good times. You wouldn’t want to be tied down to anything this way.” Wint laughed derisively. “You think you know a whole lot about me, don’t you?” Amos smiled. “Well, Wint,” he returned. “I’ve seen some of life. I know a lively young fellow like you don’t want to take on a job that means work. And you’re right, o’ course. It ain’t the job f’r you. You ain’t fitted for it. You couldn’t manage it. You’re right. I hadn’t ought to have got you into this. But I’ll help get you out. That’s th’ least I can do.” Wint looked at the Congressman with level eyes for a moment; and then he turned and looked out of window, saying nothing. Amos caught Peter Gergue’s eye, and Peter winked at him. Amos said humbly: “I sure am sorry about this, Wint. It’s made it hard for you. You can’t stay here now. You might go over to Washin’ton, Wint. I c’d get you somethin’ easy, there.” Wint turned back to him abruptly; and there was a catch in his voice. “Congressman,” he said, half laughing, “you owe me something.” Caretall nodded. “That’s right, Wint. ’Nd I’m ready to pay.” “All right. Here’s what I want you to do.” He hesitated, extended his hand. “I know I’m not fit for this job, sir,” he said reluctantly. “But--if you’ll give me a hand and help along--I’d like to tackle it.” Amos looked doubtful. “Now, Wint--don’t you get wrong notions. No sense you’re sticking in this mess. I’ll get you out without any--” Wint interrupted him angrily: “You can’t get me out. Nor any one else. I’m in and I’ll stay in. But--I’d like to have your advice and help when I need it.” And the Congressman yielded. He took Wint’s hand. “All right,” he agreed. “I’ll back you. I don’t know as you’re right, and I don’t know as you’re wrong. If you can get away with it.” “I intend to.” Amos nodded. “Sure you intend to. But can you? Well--we’ve got to see.” He hesitated, seemed to be thinking. “I hear your father and you’ve broke,” he said. “Yes.” “That’s too bad. Where are you living?” “The Weaver House,” said Wint defiantly. But his defiance was misplaced. Congressman Caretall nodded approvingly.