“I whistled again.  ‘What answer did he make?’ I asked.

“’Oh, he wa’n’t enthusiastic.  Seemed to cal’late I’d better shut up my head and my shop along with it, afore he knocked off one and his club knocked out t’other.’

“I pitied the old rascal; I couldn’t help it.

“‘Jotham,’ says I, ’I ain’t the wust friend you’ve got in South Orham, even if I don’t play pool much.  If I was you I’d clear out of here and start somewheres else.  You can’t fight all the best folks in town.’

“He didn’t make no answer.  Just kept on a-puffin’.  I got up to go.  Then he laid his hand on my sleeve.

“‘Bailey,’ says he, ‘when Betsy Mayo was ailin’, her sister’s tribe was all for the Faith Cure and her husband’s relations was high for patent medicine.  When the Faith Curists got to workin’, in would come some of the patent mediciners and give ’em the bounce.  And when they went home for the night, the Faithers would smash all the bottles.  Finally they got so busy fightin’ ‘mong themselves that Betsy see she was gettin’ no better fast, and sent for the reg’lar doctor.  He done the curin’, and got the pay.’

“‘Well,’ says I, ‘what of it?’

“‘Nothin’,’ says he.  ‘Only I’ve been practisin’ a considerable spell.  So long.  Come in again some time when it’s dark and the respectable element can’t see you.’

“I went away thinkin’ hard.  And next mornin’ I hunted up Gabe, and says I: 

“‘Mr. Holway,’ I says, ‘what puzzles me is how you’re goin’ to elect the officers for the new club.  Put up a Conservative and the Progressives resign.  H’ist the Progressive ensign and the Conservatives’ll mutiny.  As for the billiard-roomers—­providin’ any jine—­they’ve never been known to vote for anybody but themselves.  I can’t see no light yet—­nothin’ but fog.’

“He winks, sly and profound.  ‘That’s all right,’ says he.  ’Fisher and I have planned that.  You watch!’

“Sure enough, they had.  The minister was mighty popular, so, when ’twas out that he was candidate to be fust president of the club, all hands was satisfied.  Two vice presidents was named—­one bein’ Bassett and t’other Ellis.  Secretary was a leadin’ Conservative; treasurer a head Progressive.  Officers and crew was happy and mutiny sunk ten fathoms.  Only none of the billiard-room gang had jined, and they was the fish we was really tryin’ for.

“’Twas next March afore one of ’em did come into the net, though we’d have on all kinds of bait—­suppers and free ice cream Saturday nights, and the like of that.  And meantime things had been happenin’.

“The fust thing of importance was Gabe’s leavin’ town.  Our Cape winter weather was what fixed him.  He stood the no’theasters and Scotch drizzles till January, and then he heads for Key West and comfort.  Said his heart still beat warm for his native village, but his feet was froze—­or words similar.  He cal’lated to be back in the spring.  Then the Reverend Fisher got a call to somewheres in York State, and felt he couldn’t afford not to hear it.  Nobody blamed him; the salary paid a minister in South Orham is enough to make any feller buy patent ear drums.  But that left our men’s club without either skipper or pilot, as you might say.