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 attorney-general spoke angrily, and with a puffed face that flushed an unhealthy red, and then added, stretching forth his hand and laying it on Jennings' knee, "You're my friend, ain't you?"

"Sure," said the secretary of state carelessly, and then knitted his brows again. After a few minutes he said:

"Say, Bill, you and the governor used to be friends, and he hain't a bad feller, no-way. He got you your nomination, you know—why don't you go to him—"

"Go to the governor?" cried Grigsby; "and tell him—tell him!"

"Bill," said the secretary of state, "you don't know the governor. He hain't my kind, ner I his'n, but I'll tell you one thing—he hain't the man to take advantage of a feller. You'd be as safe in his hands as you would in mine—safer, maybe," Jennings concluded, with a good-humored chuckle.

Grigsby emphatically, doggedly, shook his head.

"It never would do in this world," he said, "never."

"Why, you could get him to hold off till you could take care of it. You and him used to be such friends*