The Lash

The speaker paused for a moment to pass his handkerchief over his fevered brow. Up from the ugly, leering, little eyes swept the swabbing linen, traversing the smooth top of the round head and disappearing mysteriously at the rear. The reason for this was obvious. The teeth of time take kindly to the hirsute and the speaker was very bald. Only a narrow fringe of reddish hair divided the rear depression of his fevered brow from the nape of his fat red neck.

A plump and hairy fist smote the table and the glasses jingled. "Don't fool yourselves, you young fellows," advised the bald gentleman, in a curious gusty voice. "I've been all through it, clean to the retired list," with a wicked wink, "and I know, that's all. You've got to work harder this year than you did the first; you've got to a point where there ain't no layin' down for you if you want to keep on fodderin'. 'Cause why? 'Cause they're on, or think they are, and they're gettin' uneasy. You think everything's lovely, do you? Well, take a little advice from the old man that's now on the sideline, and aim to get busy from now on."

He again swabbed his illimitable brow, peering cunningly at them with wicked little eyes that gleamed unpleasantly on either side of a bulbous, crimsoned nose, while he chewed complacently at a black cigar. In common with the rest of the small company he was in his shirt-sleeves, for it was very hot. A mere ghost of a breeze stole in through the window screen, against which foiled moths, attracted by the light within, bumped in vain. A white-aproned waiter, summoned by an electric bell, entered, removed the empty glasses and received a fresh order. With his departure the bald gentleman was again heard from.

"Well," he snorted aggressively, "what's eatin' you? Don't you believe me?"

"Why," drawled a lank, middle-aged gentleman with a generally unsophisticated look that increased the efficiency of his talents for the peculiar use to which he devoted them; "I suppose it's safe to be on the safe side, but there's no use in borrowin' trouble any more than you have to. Everything looks smooth to me."

"Pals," remarked the bald gentleman impressively, "remember this. The only way to stave off the foreclosure is to keep borrowin', and it's the smoothest whisky that gives you the rockiest head the next morning. 'Cause why? 'Cause you get enthused and hit it up too hard. Now that's where our danger flag's out. We've found this an easy town, we've worked it for all it's worth, puttin' it in plain English; the reformers ain't never woke up and you're takin' the attitude that they never will. Boys, it's a mistake. They do, sometimes. You don't want to plan on no sleepy campaign, if you'll take it from a sideliner that's 'retired' but wishes you well."

"That's all very well, Alderman." said a plump, moon-faced fellow across the table, "but we've had these scares before and they've been for nothing. Two years ago Fusion thought it had us beat and we was afraid it was going to turn the trick. Remember the vote? Why, we got the laugh from our own men. We needn't have hustled ourselves. It was a dead open-and-shut."