Freeman agreed as to the strength of the Western teams.
“Now,” he asked, a bit flattered, “what’s your plan of work? Do you smoke?” He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a box of cigars.
“Thanks!” Robert selected one. “Well—my plan is a little vague.”
Freeman nodded sympathetically and offered him a light. Robert puffed meditatively for a moment.
“Of course, I’m supposed to map out a definite campaign. I understand you have been gathering data, getting up lists and so on, you know—” he waved his hand—“as a sort of basis for me to work on. Divide the city into districts, get Bogeys to work each one, then go to another city and so on. But—”
“Yes, we’ve got quite a lot of dope here! Pardon me, what were you going to say?”
“There are some things about the Tribe I wanted to ask you about. You know I’ve just been taken in.”
“Well, I’m pretty green myself. Only a month or so.”
Robert explained some of his perplexities, the questions over which he had puzzled on the train.
“Oh, I wouldn’t bother too much about that,” said Freeman. “The main object is to get members, find out what they’re interested in and sell them from that angle. That states’ rights stuff doesn’t mean anything. I wouldn’t mention it at all. It might go well in the South, but not here, except, perhaps, to some Democrats, only the trouble is that most of them are Catholics.”