Wint looked at the Congressman with level eyes for a moment; and then he turned and looked out of window, saying nothing. Amos caught Peter Gergue’s eye, and Peter winked at him. Amos said humbly: “I sure am sorry about this, Wint. It’s made it hard for you. You can’t stay here now. You might go over to Washin’ton, Wint. I c’d get you somethin’ easy, there.”
Wint turned back to him abruptly; and there was a catch in his voice. “Congressman,” he said, half laughing, “you owe me something.”
Caretall nodded. “That’s right, Wint. ’Nd I’m ready to pay.”
“All right. Here’s what I want you to do.” He hesitated, extended his hand. “I know I’m not fit for this job, sir,” he said reluctantly. “But—if you’ll give me a hand and help along—I’d like to tackle it.”
Amos looked doubtful. “Now, Wint—don’t you get wrong notions. No sense you’re sticking in this mess. I’ll get you out without any—”
Wint interrupted him angrily: “You can’t get me out. Nor any one else. I’m in and I’ll stay in. But—I’d like to have your advice and help when I need it.”
And the Congressman yielded. He took Wint’s hand. “All right,” he agreed. “I’ll back you. I don’t know as you’re right, and I don’t know as you’re wrong. If you can get away with it.”
“I intend to.”
Amos nodded. “Sure you intend to. But can you? Well—we’ve got to see.” He hesitated, seemed to be thinking. “I hear your father and you’ve broke,” he said.
“Yes.”