He came back up presently, hat in hand, and approached Ed. “Give up, Ed,” he invited. “A penny, a nickel, any little thing.”
Ed looked in the hat. He saw a button, a burnt match, a pebble, and a slice of tobacco. He grunted and puffed at his pipe. “Set down, Jim,” he invited. “Heat’s touched your head.”
Jim explained, in a hurt tone: “No, Ed, not a bit. Only—some of the boys thought we’d take up a collection and send downstairs for a tombstone for Hollow.”
Ed swung his head slowly and looked at Jim; and a slow grin broke across his countenance. “I declare,” he commented, “you’re a real joker, Jim.” Then he laughed a cackling laugh, wagged his head, and fell into silence again.
The second precinct was the most important in Hardiston. Its voters numbered half as many again as its next rival. And so the candidates gave it more than its share of attention that day. Chase came early and often. Each time he disseminated cigars and amiability. This was his day of glory; and he ate it with a relish, visibly smacking his lips.
Caretall and Gergue came together about eight o’clock in the morning. Amos had very little to say. He glanced at the voting lists, nodded to Ed Howe, called a greeting to Jim Thomas and departed. Peter Gergue remained for a time, scratching the back of his head and talking with those who came to vote.
Amos came back at noon, and as it happened, he met V. R. Kite at the voting place. Kite voted in this precinct, and he had just deposited his ballot when Amos arrived. The two men greeted each other amiably. Amos said: “Morning, Mr. Kite.”
“Good morning, Congressman.”
“Just voting?”