sort of thing." The Honorable Richard tastefully rearranged his shirt-front so that a seven-carat diamond stuck out more obtrusively.

"Yet you must have at least a thousand voters on your pay-roll," he purred. "If they was organized right they'd give you a pull. As it is, there ain't more than six hundred of 'em who vote right."

"I don't happen to know their politics," remarked Mr. Smith.

"Well, I do," declared The Boss emphatically, "and them who are voting wrong ought to be handled. Now look here, Smith, you vote our ticket. You ought to bring some influence to bear to get 'em in line. Every week you ought to drop a dozen or so who don't vote right. It would wake the others up."

"You'll see it that way after you study it a bit," he said. "But I just mentioned that casually. It ain't really what I came to see you about."

"Ah, indeed?" remarked Mr. Smith.

"Now, Jim, you have an annual million-dollar contract to furnish this State its military supplies," explained The Boss, and his voice was lowered cautiously. "You've had it two years and have made a bunch of money out of it. I know you're too good a business man to give 'em real guns and real ammunition, and I bet them tents you sold 'em are tissuepaper, eh, Jim?"

The Honorable Richard Fraker wheezed out a laugh and gayly poked Mr. Jim Heckler Smith in the ribs. Mr. Smith smiled pleasantly.

"I gave you that contract," added The Boss.

He leaned back comfortably to watch the effect of the words. Mr. Smith smiled with polite incredulity. "The contract was awarded to me because mine was the lowest bid," he said.

The Honorable Richard wheezed another laugh, and for a fraction of an instant a heavy eyelid obscured one pale blue optic.

"But your bid wasn't the lowest," he said. "The Weston Arms Company bid thirty-seven thousand dollars less'n you. But I gave the contract to you."

The smile left Mr. Smith's face; he was frankly surprised.

"If Weston's bid was below mine," he inquired at last, "why didn't Weston get the contract?"

"Because he don't vote right," explained The Boss naively.

"But," exclaimed Mr. Smith suddenly, "he knew what my bid was! Why didn't he make a fight? Why didn't he take it into court?"

"He don't vote right," repeated The Boss. "He ain't got any standing in court."

"Do you mean to say," he demanded, "that you say who and what shall be heard in the courts of this State?"

The Honorable Richard dismissed the question with a deprecatory wave of his fat hand.

"I stand by the friends of the party," he said.

Mr. Smith suddenly became calm, and sat down again.

"You ain't got any kick coming, anyhow," continued The Boss, "because you've got the contract. In two years we'll say you've made-say half a million out of it. You've got a thousand men working nine hours a day. That's the point I'm coming to-nine hours a day."

Mr. Smith waited for elucidation.

"Next week an eight-hour bill will be introduced in the legislature because the labor men want it. If it passes, after present contracts run out, the State will have to have all its supplies made in factories where they work only eight hours."

"You don't want this here eight-hour law," resumed the Honorable Richard, "and there's a way it can be beat in the legislature. It wouldn't take much money -only half a million."

"Only half a million !" mused Mr. Smith. His brows were drawn together in deep thought.

"A lobby against the bill is what I mean," The Boss went on. His brows, too, were drawn down; he was studying his man. "Four other concerns hold State contracts and work their men nine hours. They are against this bill, and each one of them has contributed one hundred thousand dollars for a lobby. Another hundred thousand would complete the half million. This legislature goes on for two months more and then

goes out of existence. There is an election in the fall, and I might I say I might be able to arrange it so the eight-hour bill won't come up again for three

years.

Mr. Smith arose and paced back and forth across the room several times. He was evidently making up his mind.

"Pardon me just a moment," interrupted Mr. Smith. He left the room, was gone for half a minute, then returned.

"It's a good scheme," said Mr. Smith. "I've made up my mind on it. But don't you think it would be better-cheaper at any rate-to block the bill before it is introduced?"

"That ain't politics," remarked the Honorable Richard from the height of his superior knowledge. "We've got to introduce it and make a fight to keep the labor vote in line."

"Oh, I see," said Mr. Smith, and he laughed. "Sort of coax 'em along, eh? Of course, I don't understand these things and you're a past master. I'll give you

a check now."

"No, no, no!" expostulated the Honorable Richard in sudden fright. "No check. One of my men will fix that up with you later."

And for ten minutes they chatted on like friends of youth. It was Jim this and Dick that, and half a dozen funny stories, after which the Honorable Richard arose to go.

"Oh, by the way, Dick," remarked Mr. Smith, “you never have seen my factory. Step out this way into the shipping room a minute. It'll surprise you."

With radiant good humor beaming from his fat face, the Honorable Richard followed Mr. Smith through the offices and along a hall. Mr. Smith threw open a door, and the Honorable Richard walked out upon a small platform which overlooked a huge shippingroom. Then he stopped suddenly.

Packed in the room, elbow to elbow, were one thousand men-workmen with grimy faces, and in overalls. The Honorable Richard turned back precipitately.

"It won't do for all them voters to see me here," he blurted in sudden dismay.

Mr. Smith closed the door to retreat and smiled pleasantly; after which he stepped to the front of the platform.

"Gentlemen," he said, "permit me to introduce to you the Honorable Richard Fraker, the peerless leader of our party in this State. I shall lead in the cheering."

There came a roaring response. The Honorable Richard recovered himself with a jerk, and blushed and bowed in embarrassment. His sacred figure had never before been placed on public exhibition. The roar continued until Mr. Smith, still smiling, raised one hand.

"I take particular pleasure in introducing the Honorable Richard Fraker to you in this informal manner," he continued, "because I know his natural modesty would have prevented a more formal meeting-a modesty, gentlemen," and Mr. Smith's voice dropped a little, "which had made him almost unknown by sight to those thousands of voters of the great party which he so wisely directs."

The modest one tried the door behind him; it was fastened.

"In him you see labor's greatest friend," Mr. Smith went on, "a perfect embodiment of our governmental progression; the mast-head of political purity in our grand old State. In him you see the incomparable man whose word you accept as the final one; in him you see one whose leadership has placed labor in its exalted position of to-day. And, gentlemen, in him you see the dirty, sordid scoundrel who has just urged me to discharge those of my men who don't 'vote right;' the thief who wants one hundred thousand dollars from me as his pay to defeat an eight-hour law which you men want. There he stands. Look at him!"

There was one of those tense silences which follows violence. The Honorable Richard didn't say anything; he merely gurgled, and a hideous, new-born hatred glowed in his purple face. Mr. Smith paused as if waiting for him to speak; but he didn't speak. Mr. Smith continued:

"I don't know your politics, gentlemen. I have

never tried to say whom you shall vote for, but now I am going to say that if any man in my employ ever votes for a person who has the sanction and approval of the Honorable Richard Fraker, I shall dismiss himfire him-kick him out! Meanwhile now, to-day, this minute, an eight-hour work-day goes into effect in this factory. Wages will remain the same."

There was another pause. A ripple of applause was started, then died away as Mr. Smith, with clenched fist, tickled the pudgy nose of the Honorable Richard Fraker.

"That is my answer to you!" exclaimed Mr. Smith. "Now get out of here!"

Mr. Jim Heckler Smith took a full day to digest the occurrence, then he sent for a lawyer-one Palmerton Guy, a wise, dispassionate, long-faced young man of thirty-five, who had, on divers occasions, achieved the impossible for him. Mr. Guy entered quietly and took a seat. Mr. Smith was pacing back and forth across the room. Finally he turned to the lawyer.

"Who is the Honorable Richard Fraker, anyway?" he burst out.

"The political boss of this State," replied the lawyer tersely.

"Well, what is he, then? Who is he? Where did he come from?”

"He came from the same place all political bosses come from-nowhere. No one knows who he is beyond the fact that, years ago, his father was a streetsweeper with companions of the gutter. As to what Fraker is, you can best judge by the fact that he served one year in prison for shooting at a man. That was when he was a boy-seventeen or so."

"Well, by George!" And Mr. Smith sat down. He was learning something of politics. "It's perfectly incomprehensible how a big, mud-brained, vulgar hog, who's so fat he hasn't seen his feet in fifteen years, can rule a State peopled by human beings."

At great length, broken frequently by expletives, Mr. Smith detailed to his attorney the happenings of the previous day. Then he was surprised because Mr. Guy wasn't surprised.