Wint laughed and said: “Good Lord, Jack; I guess there’s no fear of that.”
“By God, I knew you’d say so!” Routt exclaimed. “Just the same. I was leary. You know what kind of a fellow I am. When I go into a thing, I go in with both feet. If I run against you, Wint, I’ll give you a fight.”
“Go to it. We’ll show Hardiston some action.”
“I’ll lam it into you, Wint.”
“Well, I can give as good as you send,” Wint promised cheerfully.
“The only thing is,” Routt explained, “I just want an understanding with you first; that is, I want you to know there’s nothing personal in anything I may say. It’s politics, Wint; and if I go in, it will be hot politics. If you’ll promise to take it as that and nothing else.”
Wint said easily: “I don’t suppose you can tell Hardiston anything about me that it doesn’t already know.”
Routt grasped his hand. “Attaboy, Wint,” he exclaimed. “You’re a good sport. By God, I believe I’ll go into it!”
“Come ahead. It’s no private fight,” Wint assured him.
“The only thing is, I wanted to know first. I want you to know I’m on the level with you personally.”