ll I said? Give Corkey two wards---if he can
get the sailors up."

Such are the day's injunctions of the political boss. It is only a
special election in one district. It is practically settled already.
The boss has a thousand other matters of equal moment.

This is a day on which the prominent citizen stays out of politics.
The polling booths are built of stout timber in front of some saloon.
The line which is in possession votes all day. Every vote counts one.

The sailors arrive and form in line before the various polls of the
Second and Third wards.

A stranger--a tenderfoot--that is, a resident party man, entitled to
vote--takes his place in the line.

"What did you tell me I lied for?" asks a very tough politician.

"I didn't tell you you lied."

"I lie, do I?"

Several toughs seize the infuriated politician and hold him while the
resident escapes.

These wards will be carried for Corkey. In twice as many other
precincts the situation is precisely the same, except that Harpwood and
Lockwin, the recognized rivals, have the polls.

At three o'clock the wagons begin to unload, vote and reload. A place
is made at the head of the line for these "passengers."

The "passenger" sailors vote at all of Corkey's precincts. They start
for the other wards.

Now we may see the man Lockwin as commandant. He has the police and
the touching committees. He is voting his own "passengers" by the
thousands.

The sailors arrive in wagons.

"You can't unload here!" says Lockwin.

The sailors unload.

Eight men seize a sailor and land him back in the wagon.

Corkey sits on the wagon in front. He draws his revolver.

"Put up that gun!" cries Lockwin.

"Put up your pop, Corkey," cry a half-dozen friendly toughs.

"I hate to do it," says Corkey, "but I guess them fellers has got the
drop on me."

The battle is over. The sailors are all in the wagon. They drive off
toward another precinct.

Corkey is pronounced a white-flag man. It is recalled that he let a
partner play in his faro bank and did not kill the traitor.

"Oh, Corkey ain't no good at all," say the bad men from Bitter Creek.

It heats their blood. They shake hands with Lockwin and deploy on the
threatened precincts.

When the sailors unload at the next precinct of the Fourth ward the
emissaries who have arrived with notice of Corkey's surrender--these
great hearts lead the fight. A saloon-keeper rushes out with a
bung-starter and hi