“Almost,” Joe smiled, faintly.

“Almost,” echoed Happy, shaking his head seriously.  “I tell ye, Joe, ef I was you—­” he began slowly, then paused and shook his head again.  He seemed on the point of delivering some advice, but evidently perceiving the snobbishness of such a proceeding, or else convinced by his own experience of the futility of it, he swerved to cheerfulness: 

“I hear the boys is all goin’ to work hard fer the primaries.  Mike says ye got some chances ye don’t know about; he swears ye’ll be the next Mayor of Canaan.”

“Nonsense!  Folly and nonsense, Happy!  That’s the kind of thing I used to think when I was a boy.  But now—­pshaw!” Joe broke off with a tired laugh.  “Tell them not to waste their time.  Are you going out to the Beach this afternoon?”

The little man lowered his eyes moodily.  “I’ll be near there,” he said, scraping his patched shoe up and down the curbstone.  “That feller’s in town agin.”

“What fellow?”

“`Nashville’ they call him; Ed’s the name he give the hospital:  Cory—­him that I soaked the night you come back to Canaan.  He’s after Claudine to git his evens with me.  He’s made a raise somewheres, and plays the spender.  And her—­well, I reckon she’s tired waitin’ table at the National House; tired o’ me, too.  I got a hint that they’re goin’ out to the Beach together this afternoon.”

Joe passed his hand wearily over his aching forehead.  “I understand,” he said, “and you’d better try to.  Cory’s laying for you, of course.  You say he’s after your wife?  He must have set about it pretty openly if they’re going to the Beach to-day, for there is always a crowd there on Sundays.  Is it hard for you to see why he’s doing it?  It’s because he wants to make you jealous.  What for?  So that you’ll tackle him again.  And why does he want that?  Because he’s ready for you!”

The other’s eyes suddenly became bloodshot, his nostrils expanding incredibly.  “Ready, is he?  He better be ready.  I—­”

“That’s enough!” Joe interrupted, swiftly.  “We’ll have no talk like that.  I’ll settle this for you, myself.  You send word to Claudine that I want to see her at my office to-morrow morning, and you—­you stay away from the Beach to-day.  Give me your word.”

Mr. Fear’s expression softened.  “All right, Joe,” he said.  “I’ll do whatever you tell me to.  Any of us ’ll do that; we sure know who’s our friend.”

“Keep out of trouble, Happy.”  Joe turned to go and they shook hands.  “Good day, and—­keep out of trouble!”

When he had gone, Mr. Fear’s countenance again gloomed ominously, and, shaking his head, he ruminatively entered an adjacent bar through the alley door.

The Main Street bridge was an old-fashioned, wooden, covered one, dust-colored and very narrow, squarely framing the fair, open country beyond; for the town had never crossed the river.  Joe found the cool shadow in the bridge gracious to his hot brow, and through the slender chinks of the worn flooring he caught bright glimpses of running water.  When he came out of the other end he felt enough refreshed to light a cigar.