THE BEST MAN WINS!

  ANDERSON CROW MEETS HIS WATERLOO AND HIS MARNE

  For sixteen consecutive years Anderson Crow had been the Marshal ofTinkletown. A hiatus of two years separated this period of service fromanother which, according to persons of apparently infallible memory, ranthrough an unbroken stretch of twenty-two years. Uncle Gid Luce stoutlymaintained--and with some authority--that anybody who said twenty-twoyears was either mistaken or lying. He knew for a positive fact that itwas only twenty-one for the simple reason that at the beginning of theCrow dynasty a full year elapsed before Anderson could be convinced thathe actually had been victorious at the polls over his venerablepredecessor, ex-marshal Bunker, who had served uninterruptedly forsomething like thirty years before him.

  It took the wisest men in town nearly a year to persuade the incredulousMr. Bunker that he had been defeated, and also to prove to Mr. Crow thathe had been elected. Neither one of 'em would believe it.

  It was the consensus of opinion, however, that Anderson Crow hadserved, all told, thirty-eight years, the aforesaid hiatus being theresult of a decision on his part to permanently abandon public life inorder to carry on his work as a private detective. Mr. Ed. Higgins heldthe office for two years and then retired, claiming that there wasn'tany sense in Tinkletown having _two_ marshals and only paying for one.And, as the salary and perquisites were too meagre to warrant adivision, and the duties of office barely sufficient to keep _one_ manawake, he arrived at the only conclusion possible: it was only fair thathe should split even with Anderson.

  After thinking it over for some time, he decided that about the best wayto solve the problem was for him to take the pay and allow Anderson todo the work,--an arrangement that was eminently satisfactory to theentire population of Tinkletown.

  Elections were held biennially. Every two years, in the spring, asprovided by statute, the voters of Tinkletown--unless otherwiseengaged--ambled up to the polling place in the rear of Hawkins'sUndertaking Emporium and voted not only for Anderson Crow, but for atown clerk, a justice of the peace, and three selectmen. No one everthought of voting for any one except Mr. Crow. Once, and only once, wasthere an opposition candidate for the office of Town Marshal. It is onrecord that he did not receive a solitary vote.

  Republicans and Democrats voted for Anderson with persistent fidelity,and while there were notable contests for the other offices at nearlyevery election, no one bothered himself about the marshal-ship.

  The regular election was drawing near. Marshal Crow was mildlyconcerned,--not about himself, but on account of the tremendous battlethat was to be waged for the office of town clerk. Henry Wimpelmeyer,the proprietor of the tanyard, had come out for the office, and wasspending money freely. The incumbent, Ezra Pounder, had had a good dealof sickness in his family during the winter, and was in no position tobe bountiful.

  Moreover, Ezra was further handicapped by the fact that nearly everyvoter in Tinkletown owed money to Henry Wimpelmeyer. Inasmuch as it wasjust the other way round with Ezra, it may be seen that his adversarypossessed a sickening advantage. Mr. Wimpelmeyer could afford to slapevery one on the back and jingle his pocketful of change in the mostreckless fashion. He did not have to dodge any one on the street, nothe.

  Anderson Crow was a strong Pounder man. He was worried. HenryWimpelmeyer had openly stated that if he were elected he would bepleased to show his gratitude to his friends by cancelling everyobligation due him!

  He was planning to run on what was to be called the People's ticket.Ezra was an Anderson Crow republican. Tinkletown itself was largelyrepublican. The democrats never had a chance to hold office except whenthere was a democratic president at Washington. Then one of them got thepost-office, and almost immediately began to show signs of turningrepublican so that he could be reasonably certain of reappointment atthe end of his four years.

  Anderson Crow lay awake nights trying to evolve a plan by which HenryWimpelmeyer's astonishing methods could be overcome. That frank andunchallenged promise to cancel all debts was absolutely certain todefeat Ezra. So far as the marshal knew, no one owed Henry more thanfive dollars--in most cases it was even less--but when you sat down andfigured up just how much Henry would ever realize in hard cash on theseaccounts, even if he waited a hundred years, it was easy to see that theelection wasn't going to cost him a dollar.

  For example, Alf Reesling had owed him a dollar and thirty-five centsfor nearly seven years. Alf admitted that the obligation worried him agreat deal, and it was pretty nearly certain that he would jump at thechance to be relieved. Other items: Henry Plumb, two dollars and aquarter; Harvey Shortfork, ninety cents; Ben Pickett, adollar-seventy-five; Rush Applegate, three-twenty; Lum Gillespie,one-fifteen,--and so on, including Ezra Pounder himself, who owed thestaggering sum of eleven dollars and eighty-two cents. There was, afterall, some consolation in the thought that Ezra would be benefited tothat extent by his own defeat.

  Naturally, Mr. Crow gave no thought to his own candidacy. No one wasrunning against him, and apparently no one ever would. Therefore, Mr.Crow was in a position to devote his apprehensions exclusively to therest of the ticket, and to Ezra Pounder in particular.

  He could think of but one way to forestall Mr. Wimpelmeyer, and that wasby digging down into his own pocket and paying in cash every single centthat the electorate of Tinkletown owed "the dad-burned Shylark!" He evenwent so far as to ascertain--almost to a dollar--just how much it wouldtake to save the honour of Tinkletown, finding, after an investigation,that $276.82 would square up everything, and leave Henry high and drywith nothing but the German vote to depend upon. There were exactlytwenty-two eligible voters in town with German names, and seven of themprofessed to be Swiss the instant the United States went into the war.

  Mr. Crow was making profound calculation on the back of an envelope whenAlf Reesling, the town drunkard, came scuttling excitedly around thecorner from the _Banner_ office.

  "Gee whiz!" gasped Alf, "I been lookin' all over fer you, Anderson."

  "Say, can't you see I'm busy? Now, I got to begin all over ag'in. Moveon, now--"

  "Have you heard the latest?" gulped Alf, grabbing him by the arm.

  "What ails you, Alf? Wait a minute! No, by gosh, it's more like onions.For a second I thought you'd--"

  "I'm as sober as ever," interrupted Alf hotly.

  "That's what you been sayin' fer twenty years," said Anderson.

  "Well, ain't I?"

  "I don't know what you do when I'm not watchin' you."

  "Well, all I got to say is I never felt more like takin' a drink. An'you'll feel like it, too, when you hear the latest. Maybe you'll dropdead er somethin'. Serve you right, too, by jiminy, the way you keepinsinyating about--"

  "Go on an' tell me. Don't talk all day. Just _tell_ me. That's allyou're called on to do."

  "Well," sputtered Alf. "Some one's come out ag'in you fer marshal. Iseen the item they're printin' over at the _Banner_ office. Seen thename an' everything."

  Anderson blinked two or three times, reached for his whiskers and missedthem, and then roared:

  "You must be crazy, Alf! By thunder, I hate to do it, but I'll have toput you in a safe--"

  "You just wait an' see if I'm--"

  "--safe place where you can't harm nobody. You oughtn't to be runnin'round at large like this. Here! Leggo my arm! What the dickens are youtryin' to--"

  "Come on! I'll _show_ you!" exclaimed Alf. "I'll take you right aroundto the _Banner_ office an'--say, didn't you know the People's Partynominated a full ticket las' night over at Odd Fellers' Hall?"

  Anderson submitted himself to be led--or rather dragged--around thecorner into Sickle Street.

  Several business men aroused from mid-morning lassitude allowed theirchairs to come down with a thump upon divers mercantile porches, andfell in behind the two principal citizens of Tinkletown. Somethingterrible must have happened or Marshal Crow wouldn't be summoned in anysuch imperative manner as this.

  _Something terrible must hav
e happened or Marshal Crowwouldn't be summoned in any such imperative manner as this_]

  "What's up, Anderson?" called out Mort Fryback, the hardware dealer,wavering on one leg while he reached frantically behind him for hiscrutch. Mort was always looking for excitement. He hadn't had any tospeak of since the day he created the greatest furor the town hadexperienced in years by losing one of his legs under an extremely heavykitchen stove.

  "Is there a fire?" shouted Mr. Brubaker, the druggist, half a blockaway.

  * * * * *

  Mr. Jones, proprietor of the _Banner_ Job Printing office, obliginglyproduced the "galley-proof" of the account of the People's Convention,prepared by his "city editor," Harry Squires, for the ensuing issue ofthe weekly. Mr. Squires himself emerged from the press-room, andsarcastically offered his condolences to Anderson Crow.

  "Well, here's a pretty howdy-do, Anderson," he said, elevating hiseye-shade to a position that established a green halo over a perfectlypink pate.

  "Howdy-do," responded Anderson, with unaccustomed politeness. He wasstaring hard at the dirty strip of paper which he held to the light.

  "Didn't I _tell_ you?" exclaimed Alf Reesling triumphantly. "There sheis, right before your eyes."

  Mr. Reesling employed the proper gender in making this assertion. "She"was right before the eyes of every one who cared to look. Andersonslowly read off the "ticket." His voice cracked deplorably as hepronounced the last of the six names that smote him where he had neverbeen smitten before.

  Clerk--Henry Wimpelmeyer

  Justice of the Peace--William Kiser

  Selectman, First District--Otto Schultz

  Selectman, Second District--Conrad Blank

  Selectman, Third District--Christopher Columbus Callahan

  Marshal--Minnie Stitzenberg.

  A long silence followed the last syllable in Minnie's name, broken atlast by Marshal Crow, who turned upon Harry Squires and demanded:

  "What do you mean, Harry Squires, by belittlin' a woman's name in yourpaper like this? She c'n sue for libel. You got no right to make fun ofa respectable, hard-workin' woman, even though she did make a dernedfool of herself gittin' up that pertition to have me removed fromoffice."

  "Well, that's what she's still trying to do," said Harry.

  "What say?"

  "I say she's still trying to remove you from office. She's going to getyour hide, Anderson, for arresting her when she tried to make thatSuffrage speech in front of the town hall last fall."

  "I had a right to arrest her. She was obstructin' the publicthoroughfare."

  "That's all right, but she said she had as much right to block thestreet as you had. You made speeches all over the place."

  "Yes, but I made 'em in good American English, an' she spoke half thetime in German. How in thunder was I to know what she was sayin'? Shemight 'a' been sayin' somethin' ag'in the United States Government, ferall I knew."

  "Well, anyhow, she's going to get your scalp for it, if it's in woman'spower to do it."

  "I'm ag'in any female citizen of this here town that subscribes to aGerman paper printed in New York City an' refuses to read the _Banner_,"declared Anderson loudly--and with all the astuteness of the experiencedpolitician. "An' what's more," pursued Anderson scornfully, "I'm ag'inthat whole ticket. There's only one American on it, an' he was aDemocrat up to las' Sunday. Besides, it's ag'in the law to nominateMinnie Stitzenberg."

  "Why?" demanded Harry Squires.

  "Ain't she a woman?"

  "Certainly she is."

  "Well, ain't _that_ ag'in the law? A woman ain't got no right to run fornothin'," said Anderson. "She ain't--"

  "She ain't, eh? Didn't you walk up to the polls last fall and vote togive her the right?" demanded Harry. "Didn't every dog-goned man in thistown except Bill Wynkoop vote for suffrage? Well, then, what are youkicking about? She's got as much right to run for marshal as you have,old Sport, and if what she says is true, every blessed woman inTinkletown is going to vote for her."

  Marshal Crow sat down, a queer, dazed look in his eyes.

  "By gosh, I--I never thought they'd act like this," he murmured.

  Every man in the group was asking the same question in the back of hisstartled brain: "Has _my_ wife gone an' got mixed up in this scheme ofMinnie's without sayin' anything to me?" Visions of feminine supremacyfilled the mental eye of a suddenly perturbed constituency. Therealization flashed through every mind that if the women of Tinkletownstuck solidly together, there wasn't the ghost of a chance for the sexthat had been in the saddle since the world began. An unwitting, orperhaps a designing, Providence had populated Tinkletown with at leasttwenty more women than men!

  * * * * *

  Alf Reesling was the first to speak. He addressed the complacent Mr.Squires:

  "I know one woman that ain't goin' to vote for Minnie Stitzenberg," saidhe, somewhat fiercely.

  "What are you going to do?" inquired Harry mildly. "Kill her?"

  "Nothin' as triflin' as that," said Alf. "I'm goin' to tell my wife ifshe votes for Minnie I'll pack up and leave her."

  "Minnie's sure of _one_ vote, all right," was Harry's comment.

  Fully ten minutes were required to convince the marshal that MinnieStitzenberg was a bona fide candidate.

  Anderson finally arose, drew himself to his full height, lifted hischin, and faced the group with something truly martial in his eye.

  "Feller citizens," he began solemnly, "the time has come for us men tostand together. We got to pertect our rights. We got to let the womenknow that they can't come between us. For the last million years we havebeen supportin' an' pertectin' and puttin' up with all sorts of women,an' we got to give 'em to understand that this is no time for them togit it into their heads they can support and pertect us. Everybody,includin' the women, knows there's a great war goin' on over in Europe.Us men are fightin' that war. We're bleedin' an' dyin' an' bein'captured by the orneriest villains outside o' hell--as the feller says.I'm not sayin' the women ain't doin' their part, mind you. They're doin'noble, an' you couldn't git me to say a thing ag'in women _as_ women.They're a derned sight better'n we are. That's jest the point. We got to_keep_ 'em better'n we are, an' what's more to the point, we don't want'em to find out they're better'n we are. Just as soon as they git to beas overbearin' an' as incontrollable as we are, then there's goin' to bethunder to pay. I'm willin' to work, an' fight, an' die fer my wife an'my daughters, but I'm derned if I like the idee of them workin' an'fightin' ag'in _me_. I'm willin' the women should vote. But theyoughtn't to run out an' vote ag'in the men the first chance they git.When this war's over an' there ain't no able-bodied men left to runthings, then you bet the women will be derned glad we fixed things so's_they_ won't never have to worry about goin' to war with theding-blasted ravishers over in Germany. If the time ever comes--an' itmay, if they keep killin' us off over there--when the women have to runthis here government, they'll find it's a man-sized job, an' that wetook care of it mighty well up to the time we got all shot to piecespreservin' humanity, an' civilization, an' all the women an' childrenthe Germans didn't git a chance to butcher because we wouldn't let 'em.Now, I'm ready any time to knuckle under to a man that's better'n I am.But I'm dog-goned if I'm willin' to admit that Minnie Stitzenberg's thatman! Yes, sir, gentlemen, we men have got to stand together!"

  "'Sh!" hissed Mort Fryback, jerking his head in the direction of MainStreet. With one accord the men on the porch turned to look.

  Miss Minnie Stitzenberg had come into view on the opposite side of thestreet, and was striding manfully in their direction. The Higgins dogtrotted proudly, confidently, a few feet ahead of her. She waved afriendly hand and called out, in a genial but ludicrous effort to mimicthe lordly Mr. Crow:

  "Move on there, now. Don't loiter."

  A little later, the agitated town marshal, flanked by the town drunkardand the one-legged Mr. Fryback, viewed with no little dismay a group ofwomen congregated in front of
Parr's drygoods store. In the centre ofthis group was the new candidate for town marshal. Alf Reesling stoppedshort and said something under his breath. His wife was one of MissStitzenberg's most attentive listeners.

  _In the centre of this group was the new candidate fortown marshal_]

  Marshal Crow was not disheartened. He knew that Minnie Stitzenberg couldnot defeat him at the polls. The thing that rankled was the fact that awoman had been selected to run against him. It was an offence to hisdignity. The leaders of the People's Party made it quite plain that theydid not consider him of sufficient importance to justify anything sodignified as masculine opposition!

  On the day of the Republican Convention, which was to be held in thetown hall in the evening, Anderson went in despair and humility to HarrySquires, the reporter.

  "Harry," he said, "I been thinkin' it over. I can't run ag'in a woman.It goes ag'in the grain. If I beat her, I'd never be able to lookanybody in the face, an' if she beats me--why, by gosh, I couldn't evenlook myself in the face. So I'm goin' to decline the nominationtonight."

  He was rather pathetic, and Harry Squires was touched. He had a greatfondness for the old marshal, notwithstanding his habit of poking fun athim and ridiculing him in the _Banner_. He laid his hand on the oldman's arm and there was genuine warmth in his voice as he spoke to him.

  "Anderson, we can't allow you to withdraw. It would be the vilest thingthe people of this town could do if they turned you out of office afterall these years of faithful service. We--"

  "Can't be helped, Harry," said Anderson firmly. "I won't run ag'in awoman, so that's the end of it."

  Harry looked cautiously around, and then, leaning a little closer, said:

  "I know something that would put Minnie in the soup, clean over herhead. All I've got to do is to tell what I know about--"

  "Hold on, Harry," broke in the marshal sternly. "Is it somethin' ag'inher character?"

  "It's something that would prevent every man, woman and child inTinkletown from voting for her," said Harry.

  "Somethin' scand'lous?" demanded Anderson, perking up instantly.

  "Decidedly. A word from me and--"

  "Wait a second. Is--is there a man in the case?"

  "A _man_?" cried Harry. "Bless your soul, Anderson, there are fifty menin it."

  Anderson fell back a step or two. For a moment or two he was speechless.

  "Sakes alive! _Fifty?_ For goodness' sake, Harry, are you sure?"

  "Not exactly. It may be sixty," amended Harry. "We could easily find outjust how many--"

  "Never mind! Never mind!" cried Anderson, recovering himself. "If it'sas bad as all that, we just got to keep still about it. I wouldn't allowyou to throw mud at her if she's been carryin' on with only _one_ man,but if there's fifty or--But, gosh a' mighty, Harry, it ain't possible.A woman as homely as Minnie--why, dog-gone it, a woman as homely as sheis simply couldn't be bad no matter how much she wanted to. It ain'thuman nature. She--"

  "Hold your horses, Anderson," broke in Harry, after a perplexed stare."I guess you're jumping at conclusions. I didn't say--"

  "There ain't going to be no scandal in this campaign. If MinnieStitzenberg--German or no German--has been--"

  "It isn't the kind of scandal you think it is," protested Harry. "WhatI'm trying to tell you is that it was Minnie Stitzenberg who got thatguy up here from New York two years ago to sell stock in the Salt WaterGold Company, and stung fifty or sixty of our wisest citizens to theextent of thirty dollars apiece. I happen to know that Minnie got fivedollars for every sucker that was landed. That guy was her cousin andshe gave him a list of the easiest marks in town. If I remembercorrectly, you were one of them, Anderson. She got something like twohundred dollars for giving him the proper steer, and that's what I meantwhen I said there were fifty or sixty men in the case."

  "Well, I'll be ding-blasted!"

  "And do you know what she did with her ill-gotten gains?"

  Anderson could only shake his head.

  "She went up to Boggs City and took singing lessons. Now you know theworst."

  The marshal found his voice. "An' it went on for nearly six months,too--people had to keep their windows shut so's they couldn't hear heryellin' as if somebody was tryin' to murder her. An' when I went to heran' respectfully requested her to quit disturbin' the peace, she--do youknow what she said to me?"

  "I've got a sneaking idea."

  "Well, you're wrong. She said I was a finicky old jackass." The memoryof it brought an apoplectic red to his face.

  "And being a gentleman, you couldn't deny it," said Harry soberly.

  "What's that?"

  "I mean, you couldn't call her a liar. What did you say?"

  "I looked her right in the eyes an' I said I'd been neutral up to thatminute, but from then on I'd be derned if I'd try any longer. By gosh, Iguess she knowed what I meant all right."

  "Well, as I was saying, all you've got to do is to tell the voters ofthis town that she helped put up that job on them, and--"

  Anderson held up his hand and shook his head resolutely.

  "Nope! I'm through. I'm not goin' to run. I mean to withdraw my nametonight."

  Considering the matter closed, he sauntered to the middle of the streetwhere he held up his hand and stopped a lame and venerable Forddriven--or as Mr. Squires was in the habit of saying, urged--by DeaconRank.

  "What's your speedo-_meter_ say, Deacon?" inquired the marshal blandly.

  "It don't say anything," snapped the deacon.

  Anderson saw fit to indulge in sarcasm. "Well, by gum, I'd 'a' sworeyour old machine was movin'. Is it possible my eyes deceived me?"

  "Course it was movin'--movin' strictly accordin' to law, too. Six milesan hour. What you holdin' me up for?"

  "So's I could get in and take a little joy ride with you," said Mr. Crowaffably. "Drop me at the post office, will you?" He stepped up besidethe deacon and calmly seated himself.

  The deacon grumbled. "'Tain't more'n a hundred yards to the postoffice," he said. "Stoppin' me like this an'--an' makin' me get out andcrank the car besides. An' I'm in a hurry, too. Couldn't you--"

  "Well, I ain't in no hurry. If I was, don't you suppose I'd 'a' walked?"

  That evening the town hall was filled with discouraged, apprehensiveRepublicans. A half-dozen newly enfranchised women occupied front seats.Ed. Higgins confided to those nearest him that he felt as though he wasin church, and Alf Reesling loudly advised the convention to becareful, as there were ladies present.

  Mr. Hud Lamson, as usual, was the chairman of the "Convention." No oneelse ever had a chance to be chairman for the reason that Hud did notinsist upon having the honour thrust upon him. He simply _took_ it.

  Following the usual resolutions condemning the Democratic Party toperdition and at the same time eulogizing the Democratic Administrationat Washington, Mr. Ezra Pounder was nominated by acclamation for theresponsible post of town clerk. In swift succession, Ed. Higgins, AbnerPickerell and Situate M. Jones were chosen for selectmen. Justice Robbwas unanimously chosen to succeed himself.

  Then ensued a strange, significant silence--a silence fraught withexceeding gravity and the portentous suggestion of something devastatingabout to overtake the assemblage. Some one in the back of the hallcleared his throat, and instantly, with one accord, every eye was turnedin his direction. It was as if he were clearing the way for action.

  Harry Squires, the perennial secretary of all conventions held by allparties in Tinkletown, by virtue of his skill with the pencil, arosefrom his seat--and stepped to the front of the platform.

  _Harry Squires stepped to the front of the platform_]

  "Order!" called out Marshal Crow, in his most authoritative voice,sweeping the convention with an accusing eye.

  "Mr. Chairman, fellow Republicans and voters of the opposite sex," beganHarry, in a distinctly lugubrious tone, "we have now come to the mostcritical moment in the history of Tinkletown. It is with ineffablesorrow and dismay that I stand before you this eve
ning, the bearer ofsad tidings. On the other hand, I expect to derive great joy inoffsetting this sad news later on in my humble speech. I am now,gentlemen--and ladies--speaking of our most noted and most cherishedcitizen, Mr. Anderson Crow, known to you all, I believe, withoutexception. I--"

  At this juncture, up jumped Alf Reesling and shouted:

  "Three cheers for Anderson Crow!"

  And three cheers were given with a vim. Uncle Dad Simms, a patriot oflong-standing but of exceedingly short memory, took the convention bystorm by crying out in a cracked but penetrating voice:

  "Three cheers for the President of the United States! I don't keer if heis a Democrat! Come on, now, men! Three cheers for President Cleveland!"

  A roar of laughter went up and Uncle Dad, being quite deaf, followed itwith two squeaky cheers, all by himself, and then looked about intriumph. Alf Reesling proposed three cheers for President Wilson, andagain the welkin rang. Having established a success as a promoter ofenthusiasm, Alf mounted a chair and roared:

  "Now, let's give three cheers for General Pershing an' the boys over inFrance, includin' the four noble young men from Tinkletown who are withhim in the trenches, killin' the botches! Now, hip--hip--"

  And once more the air shivered under the impact of vocal enthusiasm.

  Mr. Squires held up his hands and checked what might have become a habitby thanking the convention for the timely and admirable interruption,explaining that the digression had given him an opportunity to regaincommand of his emotions.

  "It is, however, with pain that I am authorized to announce, not only tothe glorious Republican Party, but to the City of Tinkletown, that--Holdon, Alf! We can get along without three cheers for Tinkletown! Toannounce that the name of Anderson Crow is hereby withdrawn from theconsideration of this convention for the--er--the nomination for TownMarshal. Mr. Crow positively declines to make the race. It is notnecessary for me to dilate upon the manifold virtues and accomplishmentsof our distinguished marshal. His fame extends to the uttermost cornersof the earth. For nearly half a century he has kept this town joggingalong in a straight and narrow path, and I for one--and I feel that Ivoice the sentiment of every citizen here and elsewhere--I for one donot resent the frequent reproaches and occasional arrests he has heapedupon me in the discharge of his duty. It was all for the good of thecommunity, and I am proud to say that I have been arrested by MarshalCrow more times than I have fingers and toes. And, I am further proud toadd, that on not a single occasion did Marshal Crow hesitate to admitthat he was mistaken. Gentlemen, it takes a pretty big man to admit thathe is mistaken. But, if you will read the next issue of the _Banner_,you will see that I can write about him much more eloquently than I canspeak. He has positively decided not to be a candidate for re-election.While we are thereby plunged into grief of the darkest hue, I am here totell you that our grief is mitigated by the most gorgeous ray of lightthat ever beamed upon the human race. It is my pleasure, gentlemen ofthe Republican Party--and ladies of the same sect--to present foryour--"

  Alf Reesling's voice was heard in plaintive protest. He spoke to hiselbow neighbour, but in a tone audible to every one, far and near.

  "I'll be dog-goned if I'll stand for that. It's an insult to every manhere to say they are of the same sex. We give 'em the vote and, by gosh,they claim our sex. I--"

  "Order!" commanded Marshal Crow.

  The orator resumed. "It is my privilege to present for yourconsideration the name of one of our most illustrious citizens for thehonourable office of Town Marshal. A name that is a household word,second only to that of the present incumbent. Circumstances over whichwe have no control--although we did have it up to a short time ago--makeit possible for me to present to you a name that will go down in historyas one of the grandest since the bonny days of good Queen Bess.Gentlemen--and at the same time, ladies--I have the honour to put innomination for Town Marshal our distinguished fellow voter, Mrs.Anderson Crow!"

  A silence even more potential than the one preceding Mr. Squire'speroration ensued. It was broken this time by Uncle Dad Simms, whoproceeded to further glorify his deafness by squeaking:

  "And he'll be elected, too, you bet your boots. We don't want nogosh-blamed woman fer--eh? What say, Alf?" And Alf, making a cup of hishands, repeated with great vigour an inch or so from Uncle Dad's ear thetimely remark that had caused the ancient to hesitate. It is notnecessary to quote Alf, but Uncle Dad's rejoinder is important.

  "Well, _Jee_-hosaphat!" he gasped.

  "Is there a second to the nomination?" inquired the chairman.

  Marshal Crow arose. "I second the nomination," he said, taking a suddentug at his whiskers. "Before we take a ballot, Mr. Chairman, I want tosay right here an' now that Mrs. Crow will have my full an' undividedsupport, just as she has always had. I have allus maintained that awoman's place is in the home. Therefore, when it comes time fer Mrs.Crow to assume the responsibilities of this here office, I am goin' tosee to it that she _stays_ home an' tends to her household duties. I amgoin' to be deputy marshal durin' her term of office, without pay,ladies an' gentlemen, an' I am goin' to lift every bit o' the work off'nher shoulders. I believe in equal sufferin'. If she'll do the woman'sshare o' the work, I'll do the man's, an' nothin' could be fairer thanthat. Between us we'll give the city o' Tinkletown the bestadministration the office of marshal has ever had. My wife ain't heretonight to accept the honour you are goin' to heap on her, but I think Ican safely promise she'll consent to make the race. She may kick like abay steer at first, but when she sees it's her _duty_ to run, you betshe'll do it! It's a case of woman ag'in woman, feller Republicans, an'man ag'in man. All I got to say is that the best woman's bound to win. Ialmost forgot to say that if the voters o' Tinkletown don't jump at thechance to git a marshal an' a experienced deputy for the price o' onesalary, it's because there's more derned fools in the town than Ithought there was."

  Mr. Ed Higgins sprang to his feet.

  "I move, Mr. Chairman, that we make the nomination unanimous without adissenting vote," he cried out. "We got a chance to get the best deputymarshal in the United States of America without it costin' us a redcent, an' besides that, we get the best cook in all Tinkletown formarshal. If there's anybody here, male or female, who c'n deny that Mrs.Crow is the best cook alive I'd like to hear him say so. I've eat ahundred meals in her house an' I know what I'm talkin' about. I defyanybody--"

  "I call for a vote!" cried out one of the women, bridling a little. "AndI want to say to you, Ed Higgins, that while I think Mrs. Crow will makethe best marshal we've ever had, I wouldn't go so far as to say she'sthe best cook in Tinkletown. You haven't been invited to eat in _every_house in this town, don't forget that."

  "All in favour of making the nomination of Mrs. Crow unanimous signifyby holding up their hands," said the chairman.

  Every hand went up. Then a rousing cheer was given for the "next Marshalof Tinkletown," followed by the customary mumbling of "The Star SpangledBanner."

  Three full days were devoted by Anderson and the leaders of theRepublican Party to the task of inducing Mrs. Crow to make the raceagainst Minnie Stitzenberg. At first she refused point-blank. Shedidn't intend to neglect her household duties for all the offices inTinkletown!

  "But, consarn it, Eva!" Anderson protested for the hundredth time,"nobody's askin' you to neglect your household duties. Ain't I agreein'to handle the job for you?"

  "Well, I posi-_tive_-ly refuse to wear a star--or carry a pistol."

  "You don't have to. I'll wear the star."

  "And if you think I'll traipse the streets of Tinkletown from morningtill night, you're very much--"

  "That ain't any respectable woman's job," said her husband stiffly."You're not expected to do it as long as you got a deputy."

  "And as for snooping around putting my nose into other people'sbusiness,--why--"

  "Now, don't let that worry you, Eva. That's part o' my job."

  "Who's going to tend jail when there's anybody locked up in it?"

  "I
am, o' course."

  "And who's going to be street commissioner, truant officer, chief of thefire depart--"

  "You are, Eva,--but I'm going to look after _everything_, mind you. Allyou got to do is to see that I git somethin' to eat whenever I need it,an' a bed to sleep in at night, an' I'll--"

  "A bed to sleep in, you ninny!" she cried. "You're going to sleep inthe same bed you've been sleeping in for forty years. What are youtalking about? Ain't you going to sleep with me if I appoint you deputymarshal?"

  "Certainly," Anderson made haste to assure her. "Unofficially, o'course," he went on, with profound regard for the ethics involved.

  "Well, I'll think it over," she said wearily. "Don't bother me now, youtwo; can't you see I'm making apple butter?"

  "I hope you will consent to run, Mrs. Crow," put in the wily Mr.Squires, "if only for the sake of showing Minnie Stitzenberg that itwon't do her any good to be saying things about--well, about anybody inparticular." He concluded very lamely.

  "Has that woman been saying things about me?" demanded Mrs. Crow.

  "I ought to have sense enough to keep my mouth shut," said Harry,scowling darkly. Catching the astonished look on Anderson's face, hehastily suggested that they "beat it."

  Out in the front yard Anderson halted him. "Has Minnie been sayinganything about my wife, Harry Squires?"

  Harry first looked over his shoulder and then winked. "Not that I knowof," he said, chuckling. "But I guess it's safe to go ahead and printthe ticket with Mrs. Crow's name on it."

  Never in all its sedentary existence had Tinkletown experienced alivelier campaign.

  "If you vote for Minnie Stitzenberg, I'll never speak to you again," wasthe common argument of the Crowites, and "Don't you ever try to look mein the face again if you vote for that old Mrs. Crow," was the slogan ofthe opposition.

  Mrs. Crow conducted her own campaign.

  Anderson discovered to his great dismay that his meals were not onlyirregular in the matter of time, but frequently did not materialize atall. His wife and daughters neglected him completely. On three separateoccasions after waiting until nearly eight o'clock for his supper, hestrolled disconsolately over to the equally abandoned home of AlfReesling.

  "I'm a mighty poor cook," confessed Alf on the first occasion, a hungry,harassed look in his eyes. "But anything's better'n starvin', ain't it?"

  "It shore is," said Anderson with feeling.

  "I ain't seen a petticoat around my house since half-past nine thismornin'," lamented Alf, upsetting a pan of milk while trying to get aplate of cold ham out of the icebox. "It's terrible."

  "Lemme take your knife, Alf. I'll peel the pertatoes--if you'll tell mewhere they are."

  "I don't know where anything is," said Alf, leaning dejectedly againstthe kitchen sink.

  "Well," said Anderson, "let's look."

  "If the election was a week further off, I'd give up an' go to drinkin'again," said Alf on another occasion. "I'd sooner drink myself to deaththan starve. Starvation is a terrible end, Anderson. Worse than hangin',they say."

  "Only four days more," sighed Anderson, clipping off a hunk of bologna."My wife says if I'll hold out till after election, she won't neverleave the kitchen ag'in long as she lives."

  "That's what mine says. Sherman was only half right. War may be hell formen, but, by gosh, women are hell for war. An' that's what it is--war,Anderson, war to the hilt. Every woman in town's got her knife out an',my God, how they're slashin' each other! There won't be a whole womanleft."

  "Well, I'd be satisfied with half a one," mused Anderson, a faraway lookin his eyes.

  The day before the election, Mrs. Crow played her trump card. She hadtreasured an open boast made years before by the disappointed old maidwho now opposed her. Minnie, before attaining years of discretion andstill smarting under the failures of youth, had spitefully announcedthat she was a spinster from choice. With great scorn she had stated,while sitting on Mrs. Crow's porch, that she would die an old maid ahundred times over sooner than marry any one in Tinkletown. And, sheadded, the best proof that she meant what she said was the fact thatnearly every man in town had asked her to marry him before he asked anyone else!

  The news spread like wildfire the instant Mrs. Crow released it. Mrs.Crow's veracity was not a thing to be questioned.

  When the returns were all in, Mrs. Crow was found to have received 573votes (women included), out of a total of 601 cast. Miss Stitzenbergheld the German vote solid, including seven from her own sex who couldafford to disregard the slander because they had been safely married inGermany long before coming to Tinkletown.

  * * * * *

  The day after the new marshal's induction into office Anderson appearedwith his star glittering so brightly that it dazzled the eye. His shoeswere polished, his clothes brushed and--shocking to relate--his trouserscreased. In all his career as marshal he had never gone to such extremesas this. He was, however, not in a happy frame of mind. His customaryaplomb was missing.

  "Well, of all the--" began Alf Reesling. Then, before Anderson could putin a word of warning, he shouted to the group in front of Lamson'sstore: "Hey! Look at the dude!"

  Anderson, very red in the face, declined a seat on a soap box.

  "If I'd knowed she was goin' to act like this, I'd a voted ag'in hermyself," he said rather wanly. "She started in bossin' me the veryminute she got my place as marshal. She's laid down the law to me, an',by crickety, she says if I'm goin' to be her deputy I've got to looklike this every day. Look at them shoes! And these pants! No, I can'tset down. I don't dare risk sp'ilin' the creases my daughter Susie putin 'em 'fore I was up this mornin'."