“He ain’t got no gumption,” remarked the magistrate tipping himself back in his office chair, and loosening the foil covering of a paper of fine cut. “The old way’s the best. Keep quiet and on the night of the primaries half of them will forget it, and the other half won’t bother their heads. Enough picked people to elect each delegate is all we want; when the whole crowd starts to chip in, it keeps you guessing.” “That’s what! It’s time enough to make a hurrah and shoot off the sky-rockets when the convention’s over and your slate’s all to the good; you’re fresh for the fight, then; but when there’s a preliminary about who’ll carry the flag, it makes hard feelings; and a man who would turn out with the gang, with a torch dropping grease down his back, in the first place, wouldn’t show up in the second even if you promised to put him under a plug hat and on top of a horse ahead of the band.” Moran nodded his approval of this piece of political sagacity; McQuirk buttoned up his coat. “I’ve fixed it,” said the latter, “so that if anybody’s pinched they’ll be run over here in the wagon. Be sure you have somebody to bail them out if you can’t discharge them.” “That’ll be all right. I’ll have Pete Slattery hangin’ around somewhere; he’ll do for a few more, yet.” Here the magistrate laughed, but the boss looked glum. “That young Murphy,” said he, “is bothering me some. I don’t like the way he is jumping into this thing. He’s sore on Kelly, eh?” “I should say so! He’d give him the knife in a minute. Say,” continued Moran, suddenly, “ain’t you on the wrong track, McQuirk? You don’t want to make an enemy of Murphy, he’s growin’ up and beginning to take notice, don’t you know? Keep him in line; one young one’s as good as a half dozen old ones, and they do more and don’t ask as much. Ain’t that right?” The boss looked at his watch, snapped the case shut, and dropped it into his pocket. “I’m going down to the Precinct Club,” said he. “The committee holds a pow-wow there in half an hour, and I must make good.” “But, say,” went on the magistrate tenaciously, “what’s the good word, Mac? Sling me a line on it, so’s I can put the boys next. Is it Kelly or nothin’? Or is it Kelly if we can?” McQuirk cleared his throat and twisted his fingers among the links of his watch chain. He was not revolving a decision--that had been made weeks ago. He merely wanted his honour to draw his answer more from his manner than his words. He had seen political friendships broken before now; and he had also seen men’s words, quoted in fat type, posted upon fences. “We’ll do what we can for Kelly,” said he, “yes, we’ll do all we can for him.” Moran smiled when his visitor left, and caressed his dyed moustache. “Just as foxy!” murmured he. “It’ll be a slick member that ever makes _him_ slip his hold, and that’s no dream. If Murphy draws the most water why Kelly gets entered among the also rans, that’s all.”