“Yes, yes,” said Bruce impatiently. “What’s your plan?”
“You’ve got the people with you now,” the old man continued, “and we want to make sure you don’t lose ’em. This water-works charge of yours has been a mighty good move. But I’ve had my ear to the ground. I’ve had it to the ground for nigh on fifty years, and if there’s any kind of a political noise, you can bet I hear it. Now I’ve detected some sounds which tell me that your water-works talk is beginning to react against you.”
“You don’t say! I haven’t noticed it.”
“Of course not; if you had, there’d be no use for me to come here and tell you,” returned Blind Charlie blandly. “That’s where the value of my political ear comes in. Now in my time I’ve seen many a sensation react and swamp the man that started it. That’s what we’ve got to look out for and guard against.”
“U’m! And what do you think we ought to do?”
Bruce was being taken in a little easier than Blind Charlie had anticipated.
“If I were you,” the old man continued persuasively, “I’d pitch the tune of the whole business in a little lower key. Let up on the big noise you’re making—cut out some of the violent statements. I think you understand. Take my word for it, quieter tactics will be a lot more effective at this stage of the game. You’ve got the people—you don’t want to scare them away.”
Bruce stared thoughtfully, and without suspicion, at the loose-skinned, smiling, old face.
“U’m!” he said. “U’m!”
Blind Charlie waited patiently for two or three minutes.