They haven’t any sympathy with you or any one like you. They’re willing to be friendly with you now—just long enough to get something out of you and club me to death. But after that how long do you think they will have any use for you—how long?” “Not very long, maybe,” replied Gilgan, simply and contemplatively, “but the world is the world, and we have to take it as we find it.” “Quite so,” replied Cowperwood, undismayed; “but Chicago is Chicago, and I will be here as long as they will. Fighting me in this fashion—building elevated roads to cut into my profits and giving franchises to rival companies—isn’t going to get me out or seriously injure me, either. I’m here to stay, and the political situation as it is to-day isn’t going to remain the same forever and ever. Now, you are an ambitious man; I can see that. You’re not in politics for your health—that I know. Tell me exactly what it is you want and whether I can’t get it for you as quick if not quicker than these other fellows? What is it I can do for you that will make you see that my side is just as good as theirs and better? I am playing a legitimate game in Chicago. I’ve been building up an excellent street-car service. I don’t want to be annoyed every fifteen minutes by a rival company coming into the field. Now, what can I do to straighten this out? Isn’t there some way that you and I can come together without fighting at every step? Can’t you suggest some programme we can both follow that will make things easier?” Cowperwood paused, and Gilgan thought for a long time. It was true, as Cowperwood said, that he was not in politics for his health. The situation, as at present conditioned, was not inherently favorable for the brilliant programme he had originally mapped out for himself. Tiernan, Kerrigan, and Edstrom were friendly as yet; but they were already making extravagant demands; and the reformers—those who had been led by the newspapers to believe that Cowperwood was a scoundrel and all his works vile—were demanding that a strictly moral programme be adhered to in all the doings of council, and that no jobs, contracts, or deals of any kind be entered into without the full knowledge of the newspapers and of the public. Gilgan, even after the first post-election conference with his colleagues, had begun to feel that he was between the devil and the deep sea, but he was feeling his way, and not inclined to be in too much of a hurry. “It’s rather a flat proposition you’re makin’ me,” he said softly, after a time, “askin’ me to throw down me friends the moment I’ve won a victory for ’em. It’s not the way I’ve been used to playin’ politics. There may be a lot of truth in what you say. Still, a man can’t be jumpin’ around like a cat in a bag. He has to be faithful to somebody sometime.” Mr. Gilgan paused, considerably nonplussed by his own position.