The Doctor [122]
silence.
"Just as you say, 'Mexico,'" said one of the men, "but I see the finish of our game in these parts. The doctor's got the boys a- goin' and you know he ain't the kind that quits."
"You're right an' you're wrong. The Doc ain't the whole Government of this country yet. His game's the winnin' game. Any fool can see that. But we hold most of the trumps just now. So for the present we stay."
As the meeting broke up, "Mexico's" friends warned him against "Peachy."
"Pshaw! 'Peachy'!" said "Mexico" contemptuously. "He couldn't hold his gun steady at me."
"He's all right behind a tree, though, an' there's lots of 'em round."
But "Mexico "only spat out his contempt for anything that "Peachy" could do, and went calmly on his way, "keeping the boys in line." But he began to be painfully conscious of an undercurrent of feeling over which he could exercise no control. Not that there was any lack of readiness on the part of the boys to "line up" at the word, but there was no corresponding readiness in pledging their support to the "same old party." There was, on the contrary, a very marked reserve on the part of the men who formerly, especially after the lining up process had been several times repeated, had been distinguished for unlimited enthusiasm for all "Mexico" represented. They "lined up" still, but beyond this they did not go.
The editor of The Pioneer, too, became conscious of this change in the attitude of the men he had always counted upon to do his bidding at the polls. "It's that cursed doctor!" he exclaimed to McKenty, the Member for the district. "He's been working a deep game. Of course, his brother's putting up all kinds of a fight, but we expect that and we know how to handle him. But this fellow is different. I tell you I'm afraid of him."
"Pshaw! He hasn't got any backing," said McKenty.
"How?"
"Well, he hasn't got any grease, and you can't make anything go without grease." McKenty spoke out of considerable experience.
"That's all right as an ordinary thing, but the doctor has grease of another kind. This library and clubroom business is catching the boys all round."
"I've heard about it," said McKenty. "I guess the Government could take a hand in libraries and institutes and that sort of thing, too."
"That's all right," replied the editor. "Might do some good. But you can't beat him at that game. It isn't his libraries and his clubs altogether or chiefly, it's himself and his work. He's a number one doctor, and night and day he's on the road. By Jove! he's everywhere. He's got no end of stay, confound him! I tell you he's a winner. He can get a thousand men in a week to back him for anything he says."
McKenty thought deeply for some moments. "Well," he said, finally, "something has got to be done. We can't afford, you and I, at this stage to get out of the game. What about 'Mexico'?"
"'Mexico'!" exclaimed the editor, breaking out into profanity. "There's the weakest spot in the whole combination, just where it used to be strongest. The doctor's got him, body and soul. Why, 'Mexico' 'd be after him with a gun if he stayed anywhere else when he visits town. The best in 'Mexico's' saloon isn't quite good enough for the doctor. No, sir! He's got a line on 'Mexico,' all right."
"Can't you shake him loose? There are the usual ways, you know, of loosening up people."
"But, my dear sir, I'm just telling you that the usual ways won't work here. This combination is something quite unusual. I believe there's some religion in it."
McKenty laughed loud. It was a good joke.
"I tell you I mean it," said the editor, testily. "The doctor's got it hard. Talk about conversion! You weren't at that meeting last spring--I was--when he got up and preached us a sermon that would make your hair curl." And the editor proceeded to give a graphic account of the meeting in question.
"Well," said McKenty, "I guess we can't touch the doctor. But 'Mexico,' pshaw! we can keep 'Mexico' solid. We've got to. He knows too much. You've simply
"Just as you say, 'Mexico,'" said one of the men, "but I see the finish of our game in these parts. The doctor's got the boys a- goin' and you know he ain't the kind that quits."
"You're right an' you're wrong. The Doc ain't the whole Government of this country yet. His game's the winnin' game. Any fool can see that. But we hold most of the trumps just now. So for the present we stay."
As the meeting broke up, "Mexico's" friends warned him against "Peachy."
"Pshaw! 'Peachy'!" said "Mexico" contemptuously. "He couldn't hold his gun steady at me."
"He's all right behind a tree, though, an' there's lots of 'em round."
But "Mexico "only spat out his contempt for anything that "Peachy" could do, and went calmly on his way, "keeping the boys in line." But he began to be painfully conscious of an undercurrent of feeling over which he could exercise no control. Not that there was any lack of readiness on the part of the boys to "line up" at the word, but there was no corresponding readiness in pledging their support to the "same old party." There was, on the contrary, a very marked reserve on the part of the men who formerly, especially after the lining up process had been several times repeated, had been distinguished for unlimited enthusiasm for all "Mexico" represented. They "lined up" still, but beyond this they did not go.
The editor of The Pioneer, too, became conscious of this change in the attitude of the men he had always counted upon to do his bidding at the polls. "It's that cursed doctor!" he exclaimed to McKenty, the Member for the district. "He's been working a deep game. Of course, his brother's putting up all kinds of a fight, but we expect that and we know how to handle him. But this fellow is different. I tell you I'm afraid of him."
"Pshaw! He hasn't got any backing," said McKenty.
"How?"
"Well, he hasn't got any grease, and you can't make anything go without grease." McKenty spoke out of considerable experience.
"That's all right as an ordinary thing, but the doctor has grease of another kind. This library and clubroom business is catching the boys all round."
"I've heard about it," said McKenty. "I guess the Government could take a hand in libraries and institutes and that sort of thing, too."
"That's all right," replied the editor. "Might do some good. But you can't beat him at that game. It isn't his libraries and his clubs altogether or chiefly, it's himself and his work. He's a number one doctor, and night and day he's on the road. By Jove! he's everywhere. He's got no end of stay, confound him! I tell you he's a winner. He can get a thousand men in a week to back him for anything he says."
McKenty thought deeply for some moments. "Well," he said, finally, "something has got to be done. We can't afford, you and I, at this stage to get out of the game. What about 'Mexico'?"
"'Mexico'!" exclaimed the editor, breaking out into profanity. "There's the weakest spot in the whole combination, just where it used to be strongest. The doctor's got him, body and soul. Why, 'Mexico' 'd be after him with a gun if he stayed anywhere else when he visits town. The best in 'Mexico's' saloon isn't quite good enough for the doctor. No, sir! He's got a line on 'Mexico,' all right."
"Can't you shake him loose? There are the usual ways, you know, of loosening up people."
"But, my dear sir, I'm just telling you that the usual ways won't work here. This combination is something quite unusual. I believe there's some religion in it."
McKenty laughed loud. It was a good joke.
"I tell you I mean it," said the editor, testily. "The doctor's got it hard. Talk about conversion! You weren't at that meeting last spring--I was--when he got up and preached us a sermon that would make your hair curl." And the editor proceeded to give a graphic account of the meeting in question.
"Well," said McKenty, "I guess we can't touch the doctor. But 'Mexico,' pshaw! we can keep 'Mexico' solid. We've got to. He knows too much. You've simply