"I would have run in before this, Varden, but somehow I got the
impression from you and the boy that you were fully capable of operating
things yourself. But with election only three weeks off I'm getting
ready to change my mind. What are you going to do with that steer
team--no, mule team--that's better?"
"Meaning?"
"Meaning Luke Presson and the members of the State Committee. I'm a
politician, Varden. I'm out of a job just now. Both crowds of you seem
to think you can get along all right without me. Probably you can. Luke
knows _he_ can, so he says. He doesn't seem to like my management or my
advice--not after that convention! But I can't help being a politician.
I can't sit on that hotel piazza any longer and see this mess scorch.
I'm too good a cook to stand it." He hitched forward in his chair and
spoke low. "Varden, it sounds like the devil making a presentation copy
of the Ten Commandments on asbestos, but I can't help that! I'm giving
it to you straight. We've got body-snatchers for a State Committee.
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