The legislator shook hands again. “I ain't going to forget what you're doing for me. No, sir!” Jeff laughed his thanks easily. “That's all right. I reckon you would have done as much for me. Sam Killen isn't the man to throw his friends down.” “That's right,” returned the other with a sudden valiant infusion of courage. “I stand pat. I'm not going to lie down before the Transcontinental. Not on your life, I ain't.” They were walking toward the outer door as Killen's speech overflowed. “The Transcontinental doesn't own this state yet. No, sir! Nor Frome and Merrill either. We'll show 'em--” The valor of the big voice collapsed like a rent balloon. For the office door had opened to let in Big Tim O'Brien. His shrewd eyes passed with whimsical disgust over Killen and rested on Farnum. The situation made for amusement, since Jeff knew that Big Tim had heard over the transom enough to show that Killen's vote had been recaptured for Hardy. “You've stumbled on a red hot Hardy ratification meeting. Did you come to get into the bandwagon while there is time, Tim?” Jeff asked with twinkling eyes. “No sinking ship for mine. I guess I wouldn't ratify yet a while if I were youse, Farnum.” He stood aside to let the editor of the _World_ pass. Jeff laughed. “Go to it, Tim.” “I haven't got anything to say to you, Mr. O'Brien,” the mill man announced with heightened color. “Maybe I've got something to say to youse, Mr. Killen.” Jeff passed out smiling. “Well, I'll not interrupt you. See you to-morrow, Sam.” Big Tim sat down heavily in a chair and pulled from his vest pocket a fat black cigar. “Smoke, Killen?” “No, thanks.” The legislator spoke with stiff dignity. Big Tim looked at the other man and his paunch shook with the merriment that appeared to convulse him. “What's the matter?” snapped the mill man. “I'm laughin' at the things I see, Killen. Man, but you're an easy mar-rk.” “How?” “Can't you see they're stringin' youse for a sucker?” “No, I can't see it. I've made up my mind. I'm going to stand by Hardy.” “Fine! Now I'll tell youse one thing. We're goin' to elect Frome to-morrow.” O'Brien rose as one who has no time for unprofitable talk. “Your friends have sold youse out. I'm going to call on one of thim right now.” “I don't believe it.” “Of course you don't.” Tim's projecting balcony shook with the humor of it. “But you'll be convinced when they take your mill from youse, me boy. It's a frame-up--and you're the goat.” With which shot he took his departure, too shrewd to attempt any argument. He had left behind him a doubt. That was all he could do just now.