e good of the party. Now Bud he
wants to be auditor, and he's got Joe to go in with him, because, if he
gits there, Joe's brother-in-law, Tim Dolan, will be his debbity. Bud
is weak in the Third Ward, and he knows it, and he knows that Jake
Runckel can swing that ward like a dead cat; and so they have fixed it
all up to give the next vacancy to Jake for his sister. She's been
turned out of the school for some skylarking, and weighs pretty heavy
on Jake's hands. Very well. That's the game, and I'm a-kickin'! Do you
hear me? I'm a-kickin'!"

Pennybaker pushed up his hat and looked Farnham fairly in the face. The
assertion of his independence seemed to give him great gratification.
He said once more, slowly closing one eye and settling back in his
former attitude against the wall, while he aimed a deluge of
tobacco-juice at the base of the wall before him: "I'm a-kickin' like a
Texas steer."

He waited a moment to allow these impressive words to have their full
effect, while Farnham preserved a serious and attentive face.

"Well, this bein' the case," continued Pennybaker, "I comes to you, as
one gentleman to another, and I asks whether we can't agree against
this selfish and corrupt game of Merritt and Dorman. For, you see, I
don't get a smell out of what they're doin'. I'm out in the cold if
their slate goes through."

"I don't see that I can be of any service to you, Mr. Pennybaker. If I
have any influence in the matter, it shall be given to Miss Matchin,
whom I proposed once before."

"Exactly! Now you're talkin'. Miss Matchin shall have it, on one little
proviso that won't hurt you nor me nor nobody. Say the word, and it's a
whack."

And he lifted up his hand to strike the bargain.

"What is it?" asked Farnham, in a tone which was severe and
contemptuous, in spite of him.

"Namely, just this," answered Pennybaker, "You ain't on the make;
you're fixed. You don't care about these d---- little things except to
help a friend once 'n awhile," he said, in a large and generous way.
"But I ain't that kind yet. I've got to look out for myself--pretty
lively, too. Now, I'll tell you what's my racket. You let me perpose
Miss Matchin's name and then go and tell her father that I put it
through, and it'll be done slick as a whistle. That's all solid, ain't
it?"

Farnham's brow clouded. He did not answer at once. Pennybaker repeated
his question a little anxiously:

"That's all solid, ain't it?"

"You will excuse me