“Well, isn’t that worth being crossed by Amos?”
Chase said: “But don’t fool yourself, Wint. Don’t imagine this is going to be easy. Caretall is powerful.”
Wint said with a slow energy: “I’ve done some thinking, dad. Amos is powerful. But—I don’t know just how to say it, but what I mean is this. I think I’ve been a good Mayor. I’ve tried to be a good one, anyway. And if a fellow tries to do the right thing, it seems to me the world has a habit of turning his way. I’ve done my share, straight out and out. And I’m going to the voters on that record. If there’s anything in—democracy—then I can beat Amos. He’s cleverer; he’s better at tricks and contraptions. But he can’t beat the right thing, dad. And—I’ve a hunch that the right is on my side, on our side, in this.”
“Right or wrong,” Chase declared, “we’ll lick him if there’s any way in the world it can be done.” His eyes lighted. “I believe I can get Kite to line up with you.”
Wint shook his head. “No.”
“I think I can,” Chase urged. “He hates Amos.”
“I don’t want him,” said Wint. “This is a clean fight.”
“You want all the help you can get.”
“All the decent help. There are enough decent folk in town to put this thing through.”
“You can’t be too squeamish, Wint.”