campaign was hanging fire he did not realize.
For the General, who knew politics, did not complain to him. The veteran
was a little whiter, a bit more dignified, and directed the movements of
his modest force of office assistants with a curtness he had not shown
at first; but no other sign betrayed that he knew his State Committee
had "lain down on him."

The Duke sauntered up the walk, whipping off his hat and swinging it in
his hand as soon as he arrived under the trees of the old garden. He
came into the house without knocking. The front door was swung inward,
and only a screen door, on the latch, closed the portal.

"I'm making myself at home as usual, Vard," he said, walking to the
General and stroking his shoulder as the veteran leaned over his table
above his figures. "I've been waiting for an invitation to come up here.
But I didn't dare to wait any longer. It's getting too near election."

General Waymouth looked up at his old friend, studying his face. He
found only the bland cordiality of the ancient days.

"I've been waiting, myself, Thelismer," he returned. "And I'll add that
I don't intend to wait much longer. I'm not referring to you, now. I
refer to Presson and his gang. I presume you are still close to them.
Will you inform them that I don't intend to wait much longer?"

Thornton did not lose his smile. He sat down. He nodded across the room
to Harlan with as much nonchalance as though he had been seeing him
every day.

"I would have run in before this, Varden, but somehow I got the
impression from you and the boy that you were fully capable of operating
things yourself. But with election only three weeks off I'm getting
ready to change my mind. What are you going to do with that steer
team--no, mule team--that's better?"

"Meaning?"

"Meaning Luke Presson and the members of the State Committee. I'm a
politician, Varden. I'm out of a job just now. Both crowds of you seem
to think you can get along all right without me. Probably you can. Luke
knows _he_ can, so he says. He doesn't seem to like my management or my
advice--not after that convention! But I can't help being a politician.
I can't sit on that hotel piazza any longer and see this mess scorch.
I'm too good a cook to stand it." He hitched forward in his chair and
spoke low. "Varden, it sounds like the devil making a presentation copy
of the Ten Commandments on asbestos, but I can't help that! I'm giving
it to you straight. We've got bod