Chase flushed. He started to speak. Kite interrupted: “Now don’t get mad. Course, he’s your son, but he does like his drop now and then, Chase.” “I tell you, Amos is planning to do it.” There was something so deadly sure in Chase’s tone that Kite sobered and looked toward him. “Say, what makes you say that?” he demanded. “How do you know?” “Amos has sense. He sees this question is the big one in this state. He’s out for Congress again. He’s not going to have it thrown at him that his man let this town soak itself illegally.” For the first time, Kite began to look worried. “Amos wouldn’t do that. He told me--” “Told you? He told me many things, too. But none of them were true.” Kite, suddenly, burst into flame like an oily rag. He threw up a clenched fist. “By God, Chase, he don’t dare try it!” “Dare? He’ll dare anything.” Kite stammered with the heat of his own anger. “He don’t dare!” he insisted. “Why, Chase--if he tries that--I’ll--I’ll--” With no sense that his words had been said before, he exclaimed: “I won’t live in the town, Chase. I’ll get out! I’ll shoot him! Or myself.” Chase leaned forward. “I tell you, he’s aiming to do it,” he said steadily. “So sit down.” Kite gripped his arm. “Chase, you got to drill some sense into that son of yours. You got to tell him--” “He’s not my son now; he’s Amos’s. Living with Amos, doing what Amos says. Don’t forget that.” There was a bitterness in Chase’s voice which silenced Kite for a moment. Then the little man touched Chase on the arm. “See here,” he said softly, “you don’t like Amos any better’n I do.” Chase smiled mirthlessly. “I’m out for his hide,” he declared. Kite nodded, chuckling grimly. “He thinks he’s a big man,” he said. “He thinks he can run over us, play with us, use us and then give us the brad. But I tell you right now, Chase....” He lifted his open hand as one who takes an oath. “I tell you right now, Chase, if he tries that little trick--you and me’ll get together, and we’ll hang his old hide in the sun to dry.” “He’ll try it,” said Chase steadily. Kite stuck out his hand. “Then we’ll skin him.” “That’s a bargain,” Chase declared, and gripped the other’s dry and skinny fingers. It was in this fashion that these two enemies joined hands against the common foe. CHAPTER VI THE WHISTLE BLOWS The festivities in Wint’s honor on the night before his inaugural were a great success, from every point of view. There was nothing formal about them. They occurred in an upper room in one of the newer business blocks on Main Street. Only half a dozen young fellows attended them; but these were all chosen spirits, and congenial.