"Thinks he's running with the pack, eh? Well, Briggs, that's hardly
news about Bart Niles."

"Thought I'd warn you, Squire. He says things ain't goin' on runnin' in
this State the way they have been runnin'. Way he talks, him and them
back of him think they've got you layin' with all four paws in the air.
But we in the village here, that's behind you, don't understand it that
way. Nor we can't figger what started it."

"Don't bother your heads about it to-day, Briggs. Simply stand by and be
ready to grab in, you and the boys. That's all."

The post-office was in the lower story of the town house. The walls were
brick to the second story. This upper part was a barn-like structure
propped on the lower walls. Broad outside stairs led up to it.

Thornton and Presson were obliged to push their way through a crowd to
reach the foot of the stairway. They were stopped there by an
obstruction. Some men were lifting off a low wagon a cripple in a
wheel-chair. He had an in-door pallor that made him seem corpselike. A
man in a frock-coat and with a ministerial white tie was bossing the
job.

The Duke stopped and gazed on the work amiably. The man of the white tie
scowled.

"Raising a few reliable Republicans from the dead, are you, elder?"
inquired the Duke, pleasantly.