The Congressman puffed for a while in silence, thinking; and Wint waited for the other man to speak. At last Amos looked at him and asked curiously: “Wint, you dead set on being Mayor?”
Something in his tone put Wint on guard. “Dead set? Why?” he asked.
Amos lifted a hand. “Why, just this,” he explained. “I’ve been talking around, here and there. Far as I hear, they’ve heard about you in Columbus. The way it strikes me, right now, if you was to run for the House, say, you could get it; and you’d have a good start up there. That’s all.”
Wint laughed uneasily. “That can come later. Maybe.”
“Thing is,” said Amos, “if you was to get licked for Mayor, it’d hurt you.”
“I’m not going to get licked,” Wint exclaimed. “I’m going to win.”
“Well—maybe,” Amos agreed. “Only I just want you to know that if you’d rather try for something else, I’d back you to the limit.”
“You mean after election? Next year?”
“I couldn’t do much if you was licked.”
Wint leaned toward him. “Just what do you mean?”