"I tell you, Thelismer, you'll never get across with this! It's too
devilish rank!"
Elder Dudley marched past, leading the last stragglers of his following
from the hall. His face was flushed with passion, but he had neither
word nor look for the Duke. Even Niles was silent, bringing up the rear
of the retreat, pumped dry of invective.
"You'll be up against Dudley, there, at the polls, running on an
independent ticket. He's sure to do it!" went on Presson, watching them
out of sight.
"You don't know the district," said Thornton, serenely. "And what's more
important, I've got almost three months to meet that possibility in. I
had only three hours to-day. You needn't worry about the election,
Luke."
With his eyes still on the seething smoke vomiting up from the Jo Quacca
hills he lighted a fresh cigar.
"There's something up there that's worrying me more. Cobb has got fire
enough to break up a State convention."
Certain columns of smoke shot up, bearing knobs like hideous mushrooms.
The knobs were black with cinders and spangled with sparks.
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