"Oh, course," assented Garwood, petulant from the heat and the situation, "they won't all be elected. That's why he'll work like hell to carry Cook. He lies when he says he doesn't give a damn how she goes to-morrow."
"He always does that," said the colonel, from his bed.
Carroll, to whom political calculations savored always of the mystery of higher mathematics, said:
"Seems to me you could figure it better than that."
"Well, you try it," said Garwood, dropping his pencil and tilting back in his chair.
There was not much hope, and the soberness deepened. After a while there was a knock on the door, and a shaven head was thrust in.
"Them lit'ry guys is out here," said the shaven head. "Any figur's to give out?"
"Figur's?" cried Mosely. "We've got th' official vote!"
And Garwood, taking his papers from the table, went out and said to the reporters:
"Conventions have been held in all the senatorial districts down the state, and sixty-nine candidates are already nominated. Of these sixty-nine, we
