I've only done what every successful
politician has done--played the game. But you're right. Now go ahead and
clean the State.'"
"You don't mean to say you'd do that?" demanded Presson, looking his old
friend over pityingly.
"Luke, _I mean_ that--but I don't intend to _do_ it, not by a blame
sight! I don't believe you ever realized that I was really honest deep
down. I have told you something from the bottom of my heart. But"--he
held out his big hands and closed and unclosed them--"if I should ever
let them loose that way they'd be picked up before they'd gone forty
feet by some other fellow that might be hollering reform and not be half
as honest as I am."
He shoved his hands in his pockets and squinted shrewdly, and spoke with
his satiric drawl.
"There was old Lem Ferguson. Lem got to reading books about soul
transmigration or something of the kind, and turned to and let all his
critters loose. Said that one living being didn't have any right to
enslave another living being. Told them to go and be free.
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