"Why not?"
"I've promised to help M-Master."
"Oh, well, now, look here—you and I ought to be friends," said Migley. "We ought to stand by each other. You look out for me and I'll look out for you."
As he offered his alliance, Migley tenderly pressed the shoulder of Silas Strong. Then he put his index-finger on that square of latitude and longitude which indicated the region of his heart, and added, impressively, "I have the reputation of being true to my friends—ask anybody."
The hunter sat filling his pipe in silence.
"With what's pledged to us, if we get this town we can win easy."
Strong began to puff at his pipe thoughtfully. Here sat a man who could make or break him. His face reddened a little. He shook his head.
Mr. Migley had caught the eye of a man he knew—Joe Socket—postmaster and politician of Moon Lake. He rose, tapped the shoulder of Strong, and said, "Think it over." Then he hurried down the aisle of the car.
He leaned over and whispered into the ear of Socket, "What kind of a man is Strong?"
"Square," said the other, promptly. "A little cranky in some ways, but you can depend upon him. He'll do What he says—the devil couldn't turn him."