Part 8 (1/2)

”'Well,' says I, 'what of it?'

”'Nothin',' says he. 'Only I've been practisin' a considerable spell. So long. Come in again some time when it's dark and the respectable element can't see you.'

”I went away thinkin' hard. And next mornin' I hunted up Gabe, and says I:

”'Mr. Holway,' I says, 'what puzzles me is how you're goin' to elect the officers for the new club. Put up a Conservative and the Progressives resign. H'ist the Progressive ensign and the Conservatives'll mutiny. As for the billiard-roomers--providin' any jine--they've never been known to vote for anybody but themselves. I can't see no light yet--nothin'

but fog.'

”He winks, sly and profound. 'That's all right,' says he. 'Fisher and I have planned that. You watch!'

”Sure enough, they had. The minister was mighty popular, so, when 'twas out that he was candidate to be fust president of the club, all hands was satisfied. Two vice presidents was named--one bein' Ba.s.sett and t'other Ellis. Secretary was a leadin' Conservative; treasurer a head Progressive. Officers and crew was happy and mutiny sunk ten fathoms.

ONLY none of the billiard-room gang had jined, and they was the fish we was really tryin' for.

”'Twas next March afore one of 'em did come into the net, though we'd have on all kinds of bait--suppers and free ice cream Sat.u.r.day nights, and the like of that. And meantime things had been happenin'.

”The fust thing of importance was Gabe's leavin' town. Our Cape winter weather was what fixed him. He stood the no'theasters and Scotch drizzles till January, and then he heads for Key West and comfort.

Said his heart still beat warm for his native village, but his feet was froze--or words similar. He cal'lated to be back in the spring. Then the Reverend Fisher got a call to somewheres in York State, and felt he couldn't afford not to hear it. n.o.body blamed him; the salary paid a minister in South Orham is enough to make any feller buy patent ear drums. But that left our men's club without either skipper or pilot, as you might say.

”One week after the farewell sermon, Daniel Ba.s.sett drops in casual on me. He was pa.s.sin' around smoking material lavish and regardless.

”'St.i.tt,' says he, 'you've always voted for Conservatism in our local affairs, haven't you?'

”'Well,' says I, 'I didn't vote to roof the town hall with a new mortgage, if that's what you mean.'

”'Exactly,' he says. 'Now, our men's club, while not as yet the success we hoped for, has come to be a power for good in our community. It needs for its president a conservative, thoughtful man. Bailey,' he says, 'it has come to my ears that Gaius Ellis intends to run for that office. You know him. As a taxpayer, as a sober, thoughtful citizen, my gorge rises at such insolence. I protest, sir! I protest against--'

”He was standin' up, makin' gestures with both arms, and he had his town-meetin' voice iled and runnin'. I was too busy to hanker for a stump speech, so I cut across his bows.

”'All right, all right,' says I. 'I'll vote for you, Dan.'

”He fetched a long breath. 'Thank you,' says he. 'Thank you. That makes ten. Ellis can count on no more than nine. My election is a.s.sured.'

”Seein' that there wa'n't but nineteen reg'lar voters who come to the club meetin's, if Ba.s.sett had ten of 'em it sartin did look as if he'd get in. But on election night what does Gaius Ellis do but send a wagon after old man Solomon Peavey, who'd been dry docked with rheumatiz for three months, and Sol's vote evened her up. 'Twas ten to ten, a deadlock, and the election was postponed for another week.

”This was of a Tuesday. On Wednesday I met Bije Simmons, the chap who was playin' pool at Jotham's.

”'Hey, Bailey!' says he. 'Shake hands with a brother. I'm goin' to jine the men's club.'

”'You BE?' says I, surprised enough, for Simmons was a billiard-roomer from 'way back.

”'Yup,' he says. 'I'll be voted in at next meetin', sure. I'm studyin'

up on parchesi now.'

”'Hum!' I says, thinkin'. 'How you goin to vote?'

”'Me?' says he. 'Me? Why, man, I wonder at you! Can't you see the fires of Conservatism blazin' in my eyes? I'm Conservative bred and Conservative born, and when I'm dead there'll be a Conservative gone.

By, by. See you Tuesday night.'

”He went off, stoppin' everybody he met to tell 'em the news. And on Thursday Ed Barnes dropped in to pay me the seventy-five cents he'd borrowed two years ago come Fourth of July. When I'd got over the fust shock and had counted the money three times, I commenced to ask questions.

”'Somebody die and will you a million, Ed?' I wanted to know.