"Precious little you know about either," retorted Blair.

"You're a poor man," said Moore, abruptly. The announcement struck the
senator as superfluous. He nodded.

"I am familiar with the fact."

The Honorable William resolved to strike. He had never thought to speak
to Charlie, but if Mrs. Latimer could not bring him to the point he
would have to do it himself. One more member must be secured, and Blair
was the only possible man. The other legislators who had not already
succumbed seemed impregnable.

Moore became impatient as he remembered how easy it had seemed at first
to secure enough votes to elect his chief.

"Charlie," he began, clearing his throat, "we want you in this fight we
are making, and we want you hard. We are going to win. We are going to
get the votes; if we don't get them one way, we're going to get them
another."

"So I've understood."

The host felt on unstable ground at the noncommittal answer, but he
boldly pushed ahead. No time to fear quicksands--the end of the session
was too near! He dwelt on the good that Burroughs could do the State if
he went to Congress, and finally repeated:

"Bob's going to be elected. He's gaining votes every day. But we need to
get the thing over with, and--it will be to your financial interest to
work with us." Moore played nervously with his teaspoon.

Senator Blair watched his smoke rings fade, and made no response. Both
men were silent for a time. Moore occupied himself by placing, with
infinite exactness, three cubes of sugar on his spoon and pouring brandy
over them. When the liquor was fired the blue flame lighted his face
weirdly. So might _Mephistopheles_ have looked when tempting _Faust_. He
was thinking that Blair had always been a failure, and always would
be--slow, methodical, too dull to see his best interests. He was a
plodder, content with moderate means, when infinite opportunities in
Montana waited a man's grasp--if he was sharp enough.

But silent Charlie was thinking that his opportunity had come. During
the past weeks he had observed, with his usual calm, the trend of
events. He had been inclined to promise Mrs. Latimer the boon she asked,
for he would be glad to promote Judge Latimer's advancement
(remembering the fine that Latimer had paid at Fort Macleod), even if
in doing so he should aid the man he hated for stealing his squaw. But
Charlie was beginning to forget the judge's kindness in his passion for
the judge's wife. He realiz