go to Congress from this district--could have had it without turning a
hand; but he put in his man and stayed in the state senate. I reckon he
cuts some ice there, but he's mighty quiet. Bassett doesn't beat the
tom-tom to call attention to himself. I guess no man swings more
influence in a state convention--but he's peculiar. You'll find him
different from these yahoos you've been writin' up. I know 'em all."

"A man of influence and power--leading citizen in every sense--" Dan
murmured as he scribbled a few notes.

"Yep. Mort's considered rich. You may have noticed his name printed on
most everything but the undertaker's and the jail as you came up from
the station. The elevator and the bank he inherited from his pap. Mort's
got a finger in most everything 'round here."

"Owns everything," said Harwood, with an attempt at facetiousness,
"except the brewery."

Mr. Pettit's eyes opened wide, and then closed; again he was
mirth-shaken; it seemed that the idea of linking Morton Bassett's name
with the manufacture of malt liquor was the most stupendous joke
possible. The editor's face did not change expression; the internal
disturbances were not more violent this time, but they continued longer;
when the strange spasm had passed he dug a fat fist into a tearful right
eye and was calm.

"Oh, my God," he blurted huskily. "Breweries? Let us say that he neither
makes nor consumes malt, vinous nor spirituous liquor, within the
meaning of the statutes in such cases made and provided. He and Ed
Thatcher make a strong team. Ed started out as a brewer, but there's