"What are you thinking of? Of course we can't get him. He's the head of the opposition. We won't even try. I've had one experience with him in that Hall case. That's enough for me, and," defiantly, "I rather admire him." Burroughs lifted his eyebrows. "Besides——"
"How about Joe Hall?" Burroughs interrupted.
"Joe will be in this evening. First time I've been able to get him to promise to come here. He's sore yet, Bob."
"That's all right. Better be liberal with him. I always liked Joe well enough. But he's sold out so often in politics that he's a little risky, after all. Weren't you out with him last night?"
Moore laughed admiringly. So Burroughs knew of a drive to a roadhouse and a convivial night. His chief kept an omniscient eye on everybody with whom he was dealing.
"Well, yes. I thought that I'd jolly him up a little without any hint of trying to get his vote. I had half a mind to commit suicide this morning, but my head was so sore that I hated to shoot a hole in it."
Burroughs grinned. "Joe's always telling of what he's done. According to his talk he's developed the State from cattle to copper—from sheep to sapphires. A man who's always telling what he's done isn't doing very much now. I'll bet he'll be the easiest in the bunch if you tackle him right."
"Don't be too sure. A man that's been everything from a Populist to a justice of the peace is likely to be hard to convince. Queer how McDevitt turned up this winter," Moore went on, after a drink. "Chaplain of the House, too!"
"I don't much like that!"