Humor those that are _for_ you."
"_For_ me?" snarled "the Duke," over his shoulder, and then he turned on
Presson. "That bunch of mangy pups out there for _me?_ Why, Luke, that's
opposition. And it's nasty, sneering, insulting opposition. I ought to
go out there and blow them full of buckshot."
He shook his fists at the gun-rack beside the moose head which flung
its wide antlers above the fireplace.
"Where's the crowd that's backing you--your own boys?"
"Luke, I swear I don't know. I knew there was some growling in this
district--there always is in a district. A man like Ivus Niles would
growl about John the Baptist, if he came back to earth and went in for
politics. But this thing, here, gets me!" He turned to the window once
more. "There's men out there I thought I could reckon on like I'd tie to
my own grandson, and they're standing with their mouths open, whooping
on that old blatherskite."
Chairman Presson went and stood with him at the window, hands in
trousers pockets, chinking loose silver and staring gloomily through the
dusty panes.
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