Wint was surprised; but he didn’t say so. “All right,” he agreed. “Shoot.”
Routt offered him a cigar, and Wint took it, and they walked slowly away from the others, back toward the Caves. Routt came to the point without preliminaries. “It’s like this, Wint,” he said frankly. “A good many people have been telling me I ought to get into politics.”
Wint had ears to hear; and he had heard something of this. But he pretended ignorance, and only said: “I thought you were in politics. Thought you were linked up with Amos.”
“I have been, in the past,” Routt agreed. “But the trouble with that is, if you tie up with a big man, you get only what he chooses to give you. I’ve been advised to strike out for myself.”
Wint said: “I think that’s good advice. It ought to help your law practice, too.”
“Matter of fact,” said Routt. “They’re telling me I ought to run against you.”
“Against me?” Wint seemed only mildly interested. “For Mayor?”
“Yes. On the wet issue. You know my ideas on that. I’m not on your side of the fence there at all.”
“Well, I don’t find fault with any man’s ideas, Jack.”
“The trouble is this,” Routt explained. “You and I are pretty good friends. Always have been. I don’t want to start anything that will spoil that friendship.”