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Rh turkey slung over his shoulder. They sat together a half hour later on the baggage truck on the station platform, waiting for the down-bound train.

"It's good," said Harris, rolling his cigar with satisfaction, "to have somebody I can talk to without doing a lot of rattling around and side-stepping. I can help you, Rowe, and I'd sure welcome some other substantial interests to this country."

"I think they're on their way," said his companion.

Harris nodded emphatically.

"I think so, too. I hope so—And I'll work to realize that hope. Anyhow, we've got a common interest. I've been a good servant for Pontiac Power and they've given me my chance with a big piece of this development proposition, but, damn it all, they expect me to do all their dirty work up here without any backing. I've protected their interests all right and I've made some money for myself, but I want to make a lot of money, Rowe—a lot of it. I need roads and schools to build up that project; I'm going to have 'em, too—an' when she sees her tax bill—that's going to help you! She won't be able to stand the racket—she won't be able to get her breath when I get through with her."

He laughed good naturedly.

"And she's alone? She hasn't any backing?"

"Not any that's worth a damn except—" He turned his head to look up First Street to where a light showed above the office of the Banner; he flicked the ash from his cigar and cleared his throat. "Just one old anarchist, Hump Bryant."

"The senator?"

"Yup," sourly. "Course he and I ain't clashed yet,