Next day he was back in his usual Haunts, with an immaculate Bow Tie and a prop Smile, shaking hands with all who had so recently harpooned him. As a Come-Back he was certainly the resilient Kid.
Those who had marveled at his sole-leather Organ of Speech, now had to admire his sheet metal Sensibilities, nor could they deny that he possessed all the attributes of a sound and durable Candidate.
He had learned his Primer lesson in Politics. As soon as he saw that he could not throw the Combination, he joined it.
He came into the Corral and lay down in the Dust and allowed them to brand him as a Regular.
Sylvester became the White Slave of the Central Committee, knowing that eventually true Patriotism would have to be recognized and recompensed. When he came to bat the second time he had the Permanent Chairman and the Tellers and all the Rough-Necks plugging for him, consequently it was a Pipe.
But it was a case of Reverse English on Election Day, for the venal
Opposition rode into power on a Tidal Wave.
After the Tide had receded, Sylvester was found asleep among the Clams and Sea-Weed, apparently so far gone that a Pulmotor would be no help.
Three days later, however, he was on hand, with chaste Neckwear and a jaunty Front, to make a Presentation Speech to the Chief of the Fire Department.
Talk about your Rubber Cores! The harder they run him down the higher he bounced back.
Those who had been marked by Fate to be his Constits began to see that
Sylvester was something invincible and not to be denied.