Hull grunted rather contemptuously. He himself was a man of considerable wealth. He was an old timer and cherished the old timer's contempt for the tenderfoot.
“All right,” said Daggett, “you may sniff. I've watched him and I've discovered this, that what he wants to do he does. He's an old poker player. He has cleaned out 'Mexico' half a dozen times. He has quit poker now, they say, and he's got 'Mexico' going queer.”
“What's his game?”
“Can't make it out quite. He has turned religious, they say. Spoke here at a big meeting last spring, quite dramatic, I believe. I wasn't there. Offered to pay back his ungodly winnings. Of course, no man would listen to that, so he's putting libraries into the camps and establishing clubrooms.”
“By Jove! it's a good game. But what do the boys, what does 'Mexico' think of it?”
“Why, that's the strangest part of it. He's got them going his way. He's a doctor, you know, has nursed a lot of them, and they swear by him. He's a sign, I tell you. So is 'Mexico.'”
“What about 'Mexico'?”
“Well, you know 'Mexico' has been the head centre of the saloon outfit, divides the spoil and collects the 'rents.' But I say he's acting queer.”
Hull was at once on the alert. “That's interesting. You are sure of your facts? It might be all right to corral those chaps. The virtue campaign is bound to come. A little premature yet, but that doctor fellow is to be considered.”
But the virtue campaign did not immediately begin. The whole political machinery of both parties was too completely under the control of the saloon and “red light” influence to be easily emancipated. The business interests of the little towns along the line were so largely dependent upon the support of the saloon and the patronage of vice that few had the courage to openly espouse and seriously champion a campaign for reform. And while many, perhaps the majority, of the men employed in the railroad and in the lumber camps, though they were subject to periodic lapses from the path of sobriety and virtue, were really opposed to the saloon and its allies, yet they lacked leadership and were, therefore, unreliable. It was at this point that the machine in each party began to cherish a nervous apprehension in regard to the influence of Dr. Boyle. Bitter enemies though they were, they united their forces in an endeavour to have the doctor removed. The wires ordinarily effective were pulled with considerable success, when the manipulators met with an unexpected obstacle in General Manager Fahey. Upon him the full force of the combined influences available was turned, but to no purpose. He was too good a railway manager to be willing to lose the services of a man “who knew his work and did it right, a man who couldn't be bullied or blocked, and a man, bedad, who could play a good game of poker.”