“And, would you b’lieve it, at that meetin’ no less’n six confirmed members of the billiard-room gang was voted into the men’s club.  ’Twas a hallelujah gatherin’.  I couldn’t help thinkin’ how glad and proud Gabe and Mr. Fisher would have been to see their dreams comin’ true.  But Bassett and Ellis looked more worried than glad, and when the votin’ took place I understood the reason.  Them new members had divided even, and the ballots stood Bassett thirteen and Ellis thirteen.  The tie was still on and the election was put off for another week.

“In that week, surprisin’ as it may seem, two more billiard-roomers seen a light and jined with us.  However, one was for Bassett and t’other for Ellis, so the deadlock wa’n’t broken.  Jotham had only a couple of his reg’lars left, and I swan to man if they didn’t catch the disease inside of the follerin’ fortni’t and hand in their names.  The ’Billiard, Pool, and Sipio Saloon,’ from bein’ the liveliest place in town, was now the deadest.  Through the window you could see poor Jotham mopin’ lonesome among his peanuts and cigars.  The sayin’ concernin’ the hardness of the transgressor’s sleddin’ was workin’ out for him, all right.  But the conversions had come so sudden that I couldn’t understand it, though I did have some suspicions.

“‘Look here, Dan,’ says I to Bassett, ‘are you goin’ to keep this up till judgment?  There ain’t but thirty votin’ names in this place—­except the chaps off fishin’, and they won’t be back till fall.  Fifteen is for you and fifteen for Gaius.  Most astonishin’ agreement of difference ever I see.  We’ll never have a president, at this rate.’

“He winked.  ‘Won’t, hey?’ he says.  ’Sure you’ve counted right?  I make it thirty-one.’

“‘I don’t see how,’ says I, puzzled.  ’Nobody’s left outside the club but Jotham himself, and he—­’

“‘That’s all right,’ he interrupts, winkin’ again.  ’You be on hand next Tuesday night.  You can’t always tell, maybe somethin’ll happen.’

“I was on hand, all right, and somethin’ did happen, two somethin’s, in fact.  We hadn’t much more’n got in our seats afore the door opened, and in walked Gaius Ellis, arm in arm with a man; and the man was the Honorable Stingy Gabe Atkinson Holway.

“‘Gentlemen,’ sings out Gaius, bubblin’ over with joy, ’I propose three cheers for our founder, who has returned to us after his long absence.’

“We give the cheers—­that is, some of the folks did.  Bassett and our gang wa’n’t cheerin’ much; they looked as if somebody had passed ’em a counterfeit note.  You see, Gabe Holway was one of the hide-boundest Progressives afloat, and a blind man could see who’d got him back again and which way he’d vote.  It sartinly looked bad for Bassett now.

“Gaius proposes that, out of compliment, as founder of the club, Mr. Holway be asked to preside.  So he was asked, though the Conservatives wa’n’t very enthusiastic.  Gabe took the chair, preached a little sermon about bein’ glad to see his native home once more, and raps for order.