“The state convention is only three weeks off and I had pretty carefully mapped it out before the ‘Courier’ dropped that shot across Thatcher’s bows.  I’ve arranged for you to go as delegate to the state convention from this county and to have a place on the committee on resolutions.  This will give you an introduction to the party that will be of value.  They will say you are my man—­but they’ve said that of other men who have lived it down.  I want Thatcher to have his way in that convention, naming the ticket as far as he pleases, and appearing to give me a drubbing.  The party’s going to be defeated in November—­there’s no ducking that.  We’ll let Thatcher get the odium of that defeat.  About the next time we’ll go in and win and there won’t be any more Thatcher nonsense.  This is politics, you understand.”

Harwood nodded; but Bassett had not finished; it clearly was not his purpose to stand the young man in a corner and demand a choice from him.  Bassett pursued negotiations after a fashion of his own.

“Thatcher thinks he has scored heavily on me by sneaking into Fraserville and kidnaping old Ike Pettit.  That fellow has always been a nuisance to me; I carried a mortgage on his newspaper for ten years, but Thatcher has mercifully taken that burden off my shoulders by paying it.  Thatcher can print anything he wants to about me in my own town; but it will cost him some money; those people up there don’t think I’m so wicked, and the ‘Fraser County Democrat’ won’t have any advertisements for a while but fake medical ads.  But Ike will have more room for the exploitation of his own peculiar brand of homely Hoosier humor.”

Bassett smiled, and Harwood was relieved to be able to laugh aloud.  He was enjoying this glimpse of the inner mysteries of the great game.  His disdain of Thatcher’s clumsy attempts to circumvent Bassett was complete; in any view Bassett was preferable to Thatcher.  As the senator from Fraser had said, there was really nothing worse than Thatcher, with his breweries and racing-stable, his sordidness and vulgarity.  Thatcher’s efforts to practice Bassett’s methods with Bassett’s own tools was a subject for laughter.  It seemed for the moment that Harwood’s decision might be struck on this note of mirth.  Dan wondered whether, in permitting Bassett thus to disclose his plans and purposes, he had not already nailed his flag to the Bassett masthead.

“I don’t want these fellows who are old-timers in state conventions—­particularly those known to be my old friends—­to figure much,” Bassett continued.  “I’m asking your aid because you’re new and clean-handed.  The meanest thing they can say against you is that you’re in my camp.  They tell me you’re an effective speaker, a number of county chairmen have said your speeches in the last campaign made a good impression.  I shall want you to prepare a speech about four minutes long, clean-cut and vigorous,—­we’ll decide later what that speech shall be about.  I’ve got it in mind to spring something in that convention just to show Thatcher that there are turns of the game he doesn’t know yet.  I’m going to give you a part that will make ’em remember you for some time, Dan.”