“First-class campaign. You figure you’ve got a chance?”
Chase’s confidence returned. “I’m going to win, Amos. Nothing can stop me. I’ll be the next Mayor of Hardiston—sure.”
Amos looked thoughtful. “I ain’t in touch—myself.” He puffed at his pipe. “Gergue says you’ll win—barring an accident.”
“There will be no accident.”
“Eh?”
“I intend to see to it that there is no accident.”
Amos nodded. “Well,” he commented, “that’s your privilege.”
Chase leaned forward. “Congressman,” he said seriously, “it’s a bad plan to stay away from home so long. You get out of touch with affairs here. You ought to—you need some ally here to watch over your interests.”
Amos looked up quickly. “Now, I never thought of that,” he declared.
Chase clapped his hand on his knee. “It’s right. You can’t tell what the people are thinking unless you live among them—as I do, sir.”