“Just what I say.”
“Are you asking me to withdraw?” Wint asked. His heart was in his mouth. “I know you and Routt have always worked together. Do you want me to get out and let him have it?”
“I’m not asking you to do a thing. I’m offering you a good excuse to—maybe—dodge a licking.”
“I’m not going to get licked,” Wint insisted. “And if there’s a licking waiting for me—by God, I won’t dodge!”
Amos looked at him curiously. “Well, that’s all right. I just put the thing up to you.”
“But I owe you enough,” said Wint, “so that if you asked me to quit—I’d do it.”
“I’m not asking you.”
“Then,” Wint declared, “I stick; and I win.”
Amos moved a little in his chair; and he sighed. “Well,” he drawled, “I’m watching you.”
Wint left Amos, a little later; and he walked home with a weight on his shoulders. He had counted on the Congressman; but—this was half-hearted support at best that Amos was offering. Wint was puzzled, he could not understand; and he was depressed, and worried, and unhappy. He had an impulse to get out, throw the whole matter to one side, forget it all; but on the heels of the thought, his jaw hardened and he shook his head.