“I call to mind the times ’fore Zaanan got his office first,” piped up a toothless octogenarian. “Diversity and Hell was first cousins. Sich things as I’ve seen! Wa-al, Zaanan he turned to, and ’twa’n’t long ’fore there wa’n’t a quieter, better-behaved town in the timber. He’s deserved a heap of this town.”
“He’s gone too far. Kind of figgers he’s king, or somethin’ like that. We hain’t goin’ to stand for it no more.”
“Go ahead,” squeaked the old man; “whatever you git is comin’ to you. ’Twon’t be a year ’fore you’re on your knees prayin’ for Zaanan Frame to come back, and it’ll be too late, ’cause this Moran’ll have the power and nobody’ll git it away from him.”
“Zaanan’s beat,” repeated the first speaker.
“Looks so,” admitted the old man; “but money done it. Votes has been bought, lies has been told. He hain’t beat fair.”
Jim was interested in spite of himself. Here was a fight, one more fight for him to get into. He, clearer than these men, saw what it would mean to the town and county for Moran to become its dictator. He welcomed another task; it would coax his mind away from Marie. If the new task was also a high duty of citizenship it was so much the more welcome. He sat erect in his seat; again he was Sudden Jim. He addressed the men within hearing.
“Zaanan Frame isn’t beaten,” he said. “Maybe he won’t fight for himself, but there are folks who will fight for him, and I’m one of them. The time’s short, but, you men who are against him, take this thought away with you: If you’ve taken money for your votes or influence, begin to worry. If there has been crookedness you may carry word from me to the man who is to blame for it that he shall answer for his crookedness. The time’s short, as I said, but a lot of fighting can be done in a short time. It isn’t too late.”
“And you’re some fighter, Mr. Ashe,” grinned a little Irishman. “When you come into the car I says to my friend, says I, ‘There’s an illigant lad wid knuckles to his fists.’”
“Thanks, O’Toole. Tell the boys I’m against the man who robs his woodsmen in the wanigans. Tell them I’m against the man who would steal away their chance to get justice. Tell them I know Zaanan Frame is their best friend, and beg them to vote for him.”
“Have no worries about the b’ys wid corked boots,” said O’Toole. “Think ye we don’t know Mike Moran?”