"I had a dog once, Luke, that was snapping at flies in general as he was lying on the porch here, and he snapped at a brown hackle fly that was hitched onto a fish-line. And he ran off down the road with a hook in his mouth and sixty yards of line and a pole following him. You'd better spit out that last fly, Luke. Now will you take a little advice from me, on the condition that I'll follow up that advice with some practical help?" "That's what I'm waiting for." "Then you get back onto your job, and leave Everett just where he is--not one word to him or his friends. That's the advice part. The help will come when I've got a few things straightened out a little more." "The convention is less than three weeks off. What's your plan? I want to know it now." "Well, you won't." "Do you think for a moment that I, the chairman of the Republican State Committee, am going into a convention with blinders on?" "You can go in any way you want to," retorted the Duke, calmly. "But that's all you're going to hear from me to-day, Luke. Faith without works is no good. You furnish the faith, and I'll furnish the works." "I never heard of any such devilish campaign management as this," grumbled the chairman. "You're talking to me as though I didn't know any more politics than a village hog-reeve." "Well, I'm the doctor in this case, providing I'm called," said the old man. "Just now I'm feeling of the pulse and making the diagnosis, and am getting ready to prescribe the dose. I'll call you into consultation, Luke, when the right time comes, and I'll guarantee that nothing will leak out to wound your pride or your political reputation. But I want to say that if you stand here to-day waiting to hear any more about what I intend to do, you'd better shut off that automobile. You won't be leaving for quite a spell." The chairman knew his man. He trotted down the steps and got into his car. "When you get ready to let me know how you're running this campaign, you'll find me at headquarters," he said, wrathfully, by way of farewell. Then he departed, with the news of how Thelismer Thornton was still boss of the northern principality--but that Thelismer Thornton, Nestor of State politicians, had calmly arrogated to himself the sole handling of the biggest question in State politics, the chairman kept to himself. He was in too desperate straits to rebel at that time. Furthermore, he knew that Thelismer Thornton in the years past had served as kedge for many a political craft that a lee shore threatened. He was measurably contented, after reflection, to have the old man take the thing into his own hands in that masterful fashion. The Duke pulled his chair to the end of the porch, where he could look across to the far hills beyond the river. He lighted one of his long cigars, put his feet on the rail, and began to smoke, squinting thoughtfully, pondering deeply.