“Hand ’em any jolt that’s coming to ’em in the name of Breed City and its mayor.” His Honor clapped his hand on my shoulder.
I trudged back to the hotel in a fairly comfortable frame of mind. It’s a lucky general who can choose his own battle-field, get to it well ahead of the enemy, throw up earthworks and set a big gun or two in position. So, I said to myself, “Let ’em come!”
XXI—THE SKIRMISH-LINE
I WAS a bit embarrassed next morning and wondered if I hadn’t overdone the thing.
I was waited on by a delegation in the crowded office of the Pride of the Prairie. Mayor David Ware headed the delegation and he introduced the half-dozen amiable gentlemen as leading members of the Breed City Chamber of Commerce. Then the mayor pulled me aside.
“You understand that I haven’t whispered a word of what you and I talked about last night. That’s to be buried between you and me, but there’s nothing like getting in sneck with the big boys of this town. It’ll be easier for me when I have to back you up—if it comes to that. I’ve explained that you’re a friend of mine who is West looking for prospects.”
“I’m glad to be called a friend of yours—and you told the truth about my business here, Mr Mayor. We start on a square basis.”
With the mayor, followed by the delegation, I was escorted through the main street of Breed City It seemed to afford the gentlemen honest gratification to follow along behind that plug-hat which I had freshly slicked that morning to the best of my ability. I was lunched at the Chamber of Commerce—a half-finished board structure; I was dined by the mayor at his own home; and I returned to the hotel in the evening to find the judge marooned in the office.