To his surprise Spinney's rooms were practically deserted. The candidate
was there, perched on the edge of a table, nursing his knee in his
clasped hands and talking vigorously to a few of his intimates. The
defection was not bothering him, apparently. Harlan promptly understood
why. As he stood for a moment, making sure that neither Linton nor
Wadsworth was there, he heard the mellow blare of distant band music.
Spinney jumped off the table.
"The boys are coming!" cried one of his friends, and stepped out through
the window upon a balcony. "Wait till after I call for the cheers,
Arba!" he called back. "Step out when they strike up _Hail to the
Chief_."
"This will make the Everett bunch sit up and take notice," said a man at
Harlan's elbow. "There'll be a thousand men in line behind that band
when she swings into the square, here! And a Spinney badge on every one
of 'em!"
He was challenged promptly. The corridor was full of Everett men.
"Ten dollars to a drink that your man Spinney pays for the band! And
when a band starts up street you can get every yag, vag, and jag in the
city to trail it! You can't fool doubtful delegates that way, Seth! Go
hang your badges on a hickory limb.
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