THE COLONEL'S LAST CAMPAIGN
All day long Colonel Talbott sat in his leather
chair in the lobby of the Grand, twiddling his
cane, smoking his cigar, and talking politics. Under
the broad brim of his black slouch hat his hair fell
in silver wisps almost to his shoulders, and the long
mustache, drooping like a Georgian's at the corners
of his mouth, was as white as his hair, save at the
spot where his cigar had tinged it yellow.
There was not a politician of either party between Dunleith and Cairo who was not proud to bend over the old fellow's chair, take his thin hand and say: "Hello, Colonel, what's new in politics?" The colonel had one invariable reply: "I'm out of politics, and don't know anything. What do you hear?" Sometimes, if the passing politician happened to be of the old day, the colonel would take him by the
