at the
capital."

"Oh, you do?"

"Yes. I thought maybe you could give me a good word. I know you're a
leading light in Montana politics. I seen by the papers that you was
State senator."

"Oh, you did?" Little encouragement could be gathered from the
noncommittal responses. Hall's restless, drumming fingers and lowered
gaze threw the suppliant out of countenance. McDevitt, in turn, grew
silent and drank the last of his mild refreshment. Hall looked up, with
shifty eyes.

"Can you pray?"

"Now?" gasped the startled ex-preacher.

Joe relaxed in spite of himself. "Well, not just now. This is not a
church." The jingle of glasses in the adjoining bar corroborated his
statement. "When were you in Macleod last?" The question came suddenly,
with intent to surprise truth.

"Oh, some little time ago," evaded McDevitt, deftly. Why tell that he
had been caught smuggling whiskey, and after serving his sentence had
left Canada?

Hall looked at him, thoughtfully, with a curious cunning in his eyes.

"Then you don't happen to know where Bob Burroughs' squaw is?"

"Pine Coulee? Why--she's--that is--perhaps I could find out? What do you
want to know for?" The caution of a possible bargain appeared.

Hall did not answer immediately, but went back to McDevitt's request.

"So you want a job? Why don't you go to Burroughs? He isn't in the
Legislature, but he seems to be promising 'most everything to 'most
everybody these days." Joe spoke bitterly, and light dawned on the not
over acute McDevitt.

"H-m-m! _Me_ asking Bob Burroughs for anything! I see myself!"

"Or him giving it!" supplemented Hall, remembering the rivalry of the
traders. Again he did deliberate thinking. If he should place McDevitt
it would be a small but irritating way to annoy Burroughs. He was not
above seeking even infinitesimal means of stinging, and this chance
encounter might lead to something more to his set purpose. So he went
on: "Get you a job, eh? Se-ve-ri-al others want sinecures." He grew
facetious as his thought took shape. "I'm out of it this year, Mac.
Still, I think I've influence enough to help an old friend if----" His
look suggested an exchange of favors.

McDevitt was shrewd enough to wait. Joe mused an appreciable time,
beating his tattoo on the table. "Yes," he finally said, "they've got to
give the minority something, and I know one of the members who can get
what I want. He's owing me a little favor--see? I needn't figure in the