“But say!––you and Brenchfield don’t seem to love each other exactly. What is it, Phil?”
“Oh!––we don’t pull together, that’s all.”
“Anybody can see that. Did you ever meet him before coming here?”
“Yes!” answered Phil shortly.
“Well, old chum, it isn’t any of my business, but the Mayor’s an oily-tongued rotter and well worth the watching. I’m lying in wait for him myself. He doesn’t love me any more than he seems to love you, so if I can help you out any time, let me know.
“He’s got the nerve of the devil. He is setting up to little Eileen Pederstone too, the hound. I hope to God a fine woman like she is doesn’t have such putrid luck as to marry such a miserable son-of-a-gun. But it is generally that way though, and that coyote nearly always gets what he goes after. He seems to be making money hand over fist. His stock is the largest and best in the Valley. They say he owns half a dozen mines up north and more ranch land in the Okanagan than he can ever use.
“Eileen Pederstone has gone after her dad campaigning, and I heard up at the Court House this morning that Brenchfield is going off in a day or so, invited by the Party to join Royce Pederstone and help along his election with his influence and his glib tongue.
“If Pederstone gets in––as he is sure to do––the next thing we will be hearing will be the Mayor’s engagement with Eileen.
“Honest to goodness!––I think I would plug him full of bullet holes on a dark night if that happened.”