“Why, Jim,” said the colonel, “you aren’t getting short of breath are you? Do I see frost on your boots? I thought you good for the mile, and you aren’t turning out a quarter horse, are you? I don’t know what all it is you want to do, but I don’t, believe you can do it in nine months, can you?”
“Not in nine years!” replied Jim.
“Well, then, let’s plan for ten years,” said the colonel. “I ain’t going to become a reformer at my time of life as a temporary job. Will you stick if we can swing the thing for you?”
“I will,” said Jim, in the manner of a person taking the vows in some solemn initiation.
“All right,” said the colonel. “We’ll keep quiet and see how many votes we can muster up at the election. How many can you speak for?”
Jim gave himself for a few minutes to thought. It was a new thing to him, this matter of mustering votes—and a thing which he had always looked upon as rather reprehensible. The citizen should go forth with no coercion, no persuasion, no suggestion, and vote his sentiments.
“How many can you round up?” persisted the colonel.
“I think,” said Jim, “that I can speak for myself and Old Man Simms!”
The colonel laughed.
“Fine politician!” he repeated. “Fine politician! Well, Jim, we may get beaten in this, but if we are, let’s not have them going away picking their noses and saying they’ve had no fight. You round up yourself and Old Man Simms and I’ll see what I can do—I’ll see what I can do!”