"But I'm the head o' the ticket," stammered the squire, his red face deepening to purple.
The booming of the town clock in the court-house tower startled the ring, and the county officials glanced at their big silver watches. They were already half an hour late for their dinners.
"And my wife told me to fetch home some meat," said Bassett, forgetting all else as he seized his hat.
And so the conference broke up. Saturday night came, they had no solution, and, like those that do business in great waters, were at their wits' end.
Sunday morning a report spread through the town that caused the ring to take heart of grace. It was a report of serious defections in Halliday's ranks. Jerry Sullivan, Scotty Gordon, old man Garwood, Rice Murrell and even Hank Defrees had been going about town all Saturday afternoon and evening, and everywhere they went they told people it was no use—Halliday couldn't be elected. He might have been two weeks ago, if he had acted differently, but now—they shook their heads. They couldn't stand for him any more—he needn't look to them for support—he hadn't treated them right—they had been fools to expect anything from such
