"He sent my little boy to the Children's Hospital in the city," another informed the thrilling multitude; "an' now he can run like a deer—it was hip-disease."
"He sat up two nights hand-runnin' with Jake Foley when he had ammonia in both lungs," imparted one of the lustiest of David's former workmen, "an' the next day they found ten dollars in a sugar jug; an' when they axed him if he done it he said they wanted to insult him—said it was the same as axin' a man if he'd been tastin'. But we ain't all fools," concluded the witness, his indignant eulogy cheered to the echo.
After a valiant struggle the chairman secured order, Mr. Craig looking on with the expression that children wear when they see their tiny craft being borne out to sea. The noble electors demanded a vote; which, duly taken, voiced the overwhelming desire that David should be their man. Whereupon Mr. Craig, not slow to remark the signs of the times, possessed himself of a very imposing hat and made as if to leave the platform, the crowd suddenly subsiding as it became evident he had a word to say before retiring.
"I'm done with municipal life from this time on," he declared hotly, as quiet was restored. "I'm not going to enter the lists with a man that has proved—that hasn't proved—with David Borland," he concluded, floundering. "If the town can do without me, I guess I can do without the town."
"You'd better go and travel abroad in them foreign parts, an' mebbe——" a voice from the audience began to advise.
"That's mean," David cried above the returning din; "that's mean—sit down, Mr. Craig," turning with a grace even those who knew him best would hardly have thought he could command.
"I withdraw," Mr. Craig shouted hotly.
"But don't go yet," David pleaded in the most unconventional voice. "I don't like to see a man withdrawin' that way." Somewhat mollified, Mr. Craig resumed his seat.
Loud demands for a speech finally brought David to his feet again. "Well, friends," he began, "I'm all used up. I never expected nothin' like this—an' I don't hardly know what to say. But I can't—I jest can't refuse now," he said, his words lost in a mighty cheer. "I didn't know you all felt that way—so much. An' I believe I'm gladder for—for two people that ain't here to-night," he said in a low, earnest voice, "than for any other reason in the world. An' I'll—I'll take it—if Mr. Craig here'll help me," suddenly turning towards his rival of a moment before. "He knows lots more about them things than me," moving over to where he sat, "an' if he'll promise to help, we'll—we'll run the show together."
There being now no other candidate, the returning-officer declared Mr. Borland the first mayor; and the vanquished, yielding to the great soul that challenged him, took the other's hand in his.