"Ain't she a woman?"
"Certainly she is."
"Well, ain't that ag'in the law? A woman ain't got no right to run for nothin'," said Anderson. "She ain't—"
"She ain't, eh? Didn't you walk up to the polls last fall and vote to give her the right?" demanded Harry. "Didn't every dog-goned man in this town except Bill Wynkoop vote for suffrage? Well, then, what are you kicking about? She's got as much right to run for marshal as you have, old Sport, and if what she says is true, every blessed woman in Tinkletown is going to vote for her."
Marshal Crow sat down, a queer, dazed look in his eyes.
"By gosh, I—I never thought they'd act like this," he murmured.
Every man in the group was asking the same question in the back of his startled brain: "Has my wife gone an' got mixed up in this scheme of Minnie's without sayin' anything to me?" Visions of feminine supremacy filled the mental eye of a suddenly perturbed constituency. The realization flashed through every mind that if the women of Tinkletown stuck solidly together, there wasn't the ghost of a chance for the sex that had been in the saddle since the world began. An unwitting, or perhaps a designing, Providence had populated Tinkletown with at least twenty more women than men!
Alf Reesling was the first to speak. He addressed the complacent Mr. Squires:
"I know one woman that ain't goin' to vote for Minnie Stitzenberg," said he, somewhat fiercely.