o the last gasp."

"Don't blame ye a mite," said Scattergood. "If them Congregationalists
rule this town meetin' you might's well throw up your hands. They'll
rule the town forever."

"It's got to be pervented."

"And nobody but you kin manage it," said Scattergood. "The hull thing
rests with you. Why, if you was sick so's to be absent from that meetin'
the Congregationalists 'u'd win, hands down."

"I b'lieve it," said the deacon, "and nothin' on earth'll keep me
away--nothin'. If I was a-layin' at my last gasp I'd git myself carried
there."

"Deacon," said Scattergood, solemnly, "much is dependin' on you.
Coldriver's fort'nit to have sich a man at the helm."

Even the cribbage game under the barber shop was suspended, and the
cribbage game was an institution. It was the deacon's one shortcoming,
but even there he strove to get the better of the enemy, for the two men
who were considered his only worthy antagonists at the game were
Congregationalists. The three bickered and quarreled and threatened
each other with violence, but they played daily. There were few
afternoons when a ring of spectators did not surround the table,
breathlessly watching the champions. It was the great local sporting
event, and who shall quarrel with the good deacon for touching cards in
the innocent game of cribbage? Certainly his pastor did not do so, nor
did the fellow members of his congregation. Indeed, there was even pride
in his prowess.

But the game was discontinued, and Hamilcar Jones and Tilley Newcamp
were loud in their excoriations of their late antagonist. The
Congregationalists had no hotter adherents than they, nor none who
entered the conflict with more bitterness of spirit. Scattergood saw to
it that he encountered them on the evening before the momentous town
meeting.

"Evenin', Ham. Evening Tilley."

"Howdy, Scattergood?"

"How's things lookin' for to-morrer?"

"Mighty even, Scattergood. If 'twan't for that ol' gallus Pettybone,
we'd git that sidewalk with votes to spare."

"Um!... If he was absent from the meetin' things might git to happen."

"Ho! Tie him to home, and there wouldn't even be a fight."

"Got a wooden leg, hain't he?"

"Wisht he had three."

"Got two, one hangin' in the harness room. Harness room's never locked.
If 'twas a boy could squirm through the window."

"What of it?"

"Nothin'. Jest happened to think of it.... Ever stop to think what a
comical thing it 'u'd be if somebody was