"I'll drop in after election," he decided, and laid his hand to the day's work.
It proved a long, hard pull, made up of details petty enough in themselves, but considerable in their relation to the whole scheme of his defence. However, he reached its end cheery in the belief that the sun of Tuesday would light no Waterloo.
"I'll win," he said to Bowers. "By no walkover, I admit; but I'll win."
"M-yes; I guess, but by the narrowest margin the Demijohn ever gave.
The slightest flurry might snow us under."
"I'd stake my head on it."
"Some who have betted less than that have hedged."
"Who?" exclaimed the candidate, quickly.
"Tuscarora House sports—I won't mention names—but poker friends of yours."
"Sandy lot, they are," broke out Shelby, contemptuously. "I hope you counteracted the effect."
"I instructed some of our people to cover everything they would put up," Bowers answered dryly. "You know I don't bet myself."