“I haven’t said that I did.”
“Well, I want to know!”
“What if I decline to answer?”
Ben changed his tone.
“It will make trouble for me, if you run. If you keep out of it I’ve got the thing cinched—they can’t beat me, for I will pull the cowboy vote. You might split that vote. I don’t say I think you could be elected, for I don’t; but it would make me a lot of trouble, and would kick up bad feeling all round.”
“In what way?” said Justin, speaking coldly. He was studying Ben closely; he had never seen his face so white nor his eyes so unnaturally bright.
“Well, with father, for one thing. He wouldn’t like it; he wants me to be elected, and has already spent a lot of money.”
“Ben,” said Justin, speaking slowly, “you have yourself to blame largely for this stirring up of the farmers. You have made them hate you. They will put up some one against you, whether I run or not.”
“They can’t beat me, unless they run some fellow who can swing the cowboy vote, and they know it. That’s why they came to you.”
“Yes; they said it was.”