Dan murmured a reply which Bassett did not heed.

“Your visit to my home and the article in the ‘Courier’ first suggested this to me.  It struck me that you understood me pretty well.  I read all the other sketches in that series and the different tone in which you wrote of me gave me the idea that you had tried to please me, and that you knew how to do it.  How does the proposition strike you?”

“It couldn’t be otherwise than gratifying, Mr. Bassett.  It’s taken my breath away.  It widens all my horizons.  I have been questioning my destiny lately; the law as a goal had been drawing further away.  And this mark of confidence—­”

“Oh, that point, the confidence will have to be mutual.  I am a close-mouthed person and have no confidants, but of necessity you will learn my affairs pretty thoroughly if you accept my offer.  You have heard a good deal of talk about me—­most of it unflattering.  You have heard that I drive hard bargains.  At every session of the legislature I am charged with the grossest corruption.  There are men in my own party who are bent on breaking me down and getting rid of me.  I’m going to give them the best fight I can put up.  I can’t see through the back of my head:  I want you to do that for me.”

“I don’t know much about the practical side of politics; it’s full of traps I’ve never seen sprung, but I know they’re planted.”

“To be perfectly frank, it’s because you’re inexperienced that I want you.  I wouldn’t trust anybody who had political ambitions of his own, or who had mixed up in any of these local squabbles.  And, besides, you’re a gentleman and an educated man, and that counts for something.”

“You are very kind and generous.  I appreciate this more than I can tell you.  And I’d like—­”

“Don’t decide about it now.  I’d rather you didn’t.  Take a week to it, then drop me a line to Fraserville, or come up if you want to talk further.”

“Thank you; I shan’t want so much time.  In any event I appreciate your kindness.  It’s the most cheering thing that ever happened to me.”

Bassett glanced at his watch.  He had said all he had to say in the matter and closed the subject characteristically.

“Here’s a little thing I picked up to-day,—­a copy of Darlington’s ’Narrative,’—­he was with St. Clair, you know; and practically all the copies of the book were burned in a Philadelphia printing-office before they were bound; you will notice that some of the pages are slightly singed.  As you saw at my house, I’m interested in getting hold of books relating to the achievements of the Western pioneers.  Some of these bald, unvarnished tales give a capital idea of the men who conquered the wilderness.  They had the real stuff in them, those fellows!”

He took the battered volume—­a pamphlet clumsily encased in boards, and drew his hand across its rough sides caressingly.

“Another of my jokes on the State Library.  The librarian told me I’d never find a copy, and this was on top of a pile of trash in a second-hand shop right here in this town.  It cost me just fifty cents.”