Mr. Pilkinton no longer hesitated.

“The polls is open,” he said.

The fifty-two, ballots ready in their hands, started for the box, but Town-marshal Pease, awakened from his astonishment, lifted his voice.

“I got to stop that hoss race.  Stop the votin’ till I git back.  That hoss race has got to be stopped.”

“Seems to me like votes was more important than hoss races,” said Scattergood.

“The town marshal will stay right where he is, and guard the ballot box,” said the chairman.

The voters moved to the front, and as they deposited their ballots, sounds from without, indicating excitement and delight, were carried through the windows to their ears.  The fifty-two voted and returned to their seats.

“If everybody present and desirin’ to vote has done so,” said Scattergood, “I move you them polls be closed.”

Mr. Pilkinton put the motion, and it was carried with enthusiasm.

“Tellers,” suggested Scattergood.

As was the custom, the votes were counted immediately.  The result stood, Marvin Towne:  fifty-three votes; Jim Allen, two votes; Pazzy Cox, four votes.

“I declare Marvin Towne elected our representative to the legislature,” said Chairman Pilkinton, weakly, and sat down, mopping his brow.

“That bein’ the final business of this meetin’,” said Scattergood, “I move we adjourn.”

The story swept the state.  Twenty-four hours later Lafe Siggins visited Coldriver and was driven to Scattergood Baines’s hardware store.  Scattergood sat on the piazza, and as soon as the visitor was identified the male inhabitants of the village began to gather.

“Kin we talk in private?” said Mr. Siggins.

“Hain’t got no need for privacy.  Folks is welcome to listen to all I got to say.”

Mr. Siggins frowned, but, being a politician and partially estimating the quality of his man, he did not protest.

“You beat us clever,” said he.

“Calculated to,” said Scattergood.

“In politics for good?”

“Calculate to be.”

“What you aim to do?”

“Kind of look after the politics in Coldriver.”

“Be you fur me or ag’in’ me?”

“I’m fur you till my mind changes.”

“How about this here Prohibition party?”

“Don’t figger it’s necessary after this.”

“Guess we kin agree,” said Siggins.  “You can figger the party machinery’s behind you.  So fur’s we’re concerned, you’re Coldriver.”

“Calc’lated to be,” said Scattergood.

“Some day,” said Siggins, in not willing admiration, “you’re goin’ to run the state.”

“Calc’late to,” said Scattergood, and thereby rather took Mr. Siggins’s breath.  “Figger on makin’ politics kind of a side issue to the hardware business.  Find it mighty stimilatin’.  Politics took in moderation, follerin’ a meal of business, makes an all-fired tasty dessert....  G’-by, Siggins, g’-by.”