lieutenant, he pecked with thumb and forefinger at the end of a cigar
protruding from his chief's waistcoat-pocket. He wrenched off the tip
between snaggy teeth. He spat the tip far.

"Yes, sir, by jehoshaphat, a caucus!"

Chairman Presson's ear had caught the sound of politics. He felt that he
was entitled, ex officio, to be present at any conference. He hurried to
the end of the porch.

"We ain't had a caucus in this district for more'n forty years," stated
the new arrival, accepting the chairman as a friend of the cause.
"Except as the chairman catches the seckertery somewhere and then
hollers for some one to come in from the street and renominate the
Honor'ble Thornton. But, dammit, this is going to be a _caucus_." The
word seemed suddenly to have acquired novel meaning for him. "They must
have been pussy-footin' for a month. You could have knocked me down with
your cigar-butt, Squire, when I got in here to-day and found how she
stood. If it hadn't been for War Eagle Ivus and his buck sheep breakin'
out, they'd have ambuscaded ye, surer'n palm-leaf fans can't cool the
kitchen o' hell. But even as it is--hoot and holler now, and
tag-gool-I-see-ye, they say they've got you licked, and licked in the
open--that's what they say!" The man's tone was that of one announcing
the blotting-out of the stars.

"Walt Davis bragged about it," said the old man, outwardly calm, but
eyes ablaze. "It must be a pretty sure thing when he's got the courage
to crawl out from under the wagon and yap."

"Good God!" blurted the chairman of the State Committee, "you don't mean