ittle," whispered the man with
the Devil in him. "They were making too strong a fight. I had to _see_
some of them," putting one hand behind his back and rubbing his fingers
together, to signify that there had been a taking of bribes. "But be
shady about it. For the sake of the good cause, keep quiet. Mum's the
word."

The reader can imagine how briskly the fight between the two capitals
reopened when Mr. Pullwool re-entered the lobby. Slowburg now had its
adherents, and they struggled like men who saw money in their warfare,
and they struggled not in vain. To cut a very long story very short, to
sum the whole of an exciting drama in one sentence, the legislature
kicked overboard the bill to make Fastburg the sole seat of government.
Nothing had come of the whole row, except that a pair of simple little
cities had spent over one hundred thousand dollars, and that the
capital ring, fighting on both sides and drawing pay from both sides,
had lined its pockets, while the great creator of the ring had crammed
his to bursting.

"What does this mean, Mr. Pullwool?" demanded the partially honest and
entirely puzzled Tom Dicker, when he had discovered by an unofficial
count of noses how things were going. "Fastburg has spent all its money
for nothing. It won't be sole capital, after all."

"I never expected it would be," replied Pullwool, so tickled by the
Devil that was in him that he could not help laughing. "I never wanted
it to be. Why, it would spoil the little game. This is a trick that can
be played every year."

"Oh!" exclaimed Mr. Dicker, and was dumb with astonishment for a
minute.

"Didn't you see through it before?" grinned the grand master of all
guile and subtlety.

"I did not," confessed Mr. Dicker, with a mixture of shame and
abhorrence. "Well," he presently added, recovering himself, "shall we
settle?"

"Oh, certainly, if you are ready," smiled Pullwool, with the air of a
man who has something coming to him.

"And what, exactly, will be my share?" asked Dicker, humbly.

"What do you mean?" stared Pullwool, apparently in the extremity of
amazement.

"You said _snacks_, didn't you?" urged Dicker, trembling violently.

"Well, _snacks_ it is," replied Pullwool. "Haven't you had a thousand?"

"Yes," admitted Dicker.

"Then you owe me five hundred?"

Mr. Dicker did not faint, though he came very near it, but he staggered
out of the room as white as a sheet, for he was utterly crushed by this
diabo