it.

But now this random pleasantry of Solon Denney's set our minds to
working in another direction.

In the broad, pleasant window of the post-office, under the "NO LOAFING
HERE!" sign, half a dozen of us discussed it while we waited for the
noon mail. There seemed to be a half-formed belief that Potts might
adroitly be made to perceive advantages in leaving us.

"It's a whole lot better to manipulate and be subtle in a case like
this," suggested the editor of the _Argus_. "Threats of violence,
forcible expulsion, disbarment proceedings--all crude--and besides they
won't move Potts. Jonas Rodney may not be gifted with a giant intellect,
but he is cunning."

"The cunning of a precocious boy," prompted Eustace Eubanks, who was one
of us. "He is well aware that we would not dare attempt lawless
violence."

"Exactly, Eustace," answered Solon. "I tell you, gentlemen, this
thriving little town needs a canning factory, as we all know; but more
than a canning factory it needs a Boss,--one of those strong characters
that make tools of their fellow-men, who rule our cities with an iron
hand but take care to keep the hand in a velvet glove,--a Boss that is
diplomatic, yet an autocrat."

That careless use of the term "Boss" was afterward seen to be
unfortunate for Solon. They remembered it against him.