“I guess it is!”
“Shake on it, Sim.”
They shook hands, exalted with triumph.
“This'll do the work,” giggled Peck. “It's about two-thousand per cent. better than the story we started to git. Why, Dave Beasley'll be in a padded cell in a month! It'll be all over town to-morrow, and he'll have as much chance fer governor as that nigger in there!” In his ecstasy he smote Dowden deliriously in the ribs. “What do you think of your candidate NOW?”
“Wait,” said Dowden. “Who came in the hacks that Grist saw?”
This staggered Mr. Peck. He rubbed his mitten over his woollen cap as if scratching his head. “Why,” he said, slowly—“who in Halifax DID come in them hacks?”
“The Hunchbergs,” said I.
“Who's the Hunchbergs? Where—”
“Listen,” said Dowden.
“FIRST couple, FACE out!” shouted Beasley, facing out with an invisible lady on his akimboed arm, while old Bob sawed madly at A New Coon in Town.