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Updated: June 28, 2025
Shelby told his whereabouts, and requested the prompt services of Jasper Hinchey and three or four kindred spirits, ringing off after certain mysterious, though concise, directions regarding a concert hall in the Flats, which he meant shortly to utilize. He had barely hung up the receiver when a telegraph messenger from town brought a despatch for Kiska.
The men had quitted work and scattered to their homes, and Kiska was to be discovered neither in nor around the little office. However, the Polish lad in temporary charge, Kiska's own son, was not slow to recognize the original of the campaign lithograph which in his home enjoyed honors second only to a highly-colored Madonna, and went flying in search of his father.
I don't understand it very well, but the stone has to be shipped before the canal freezes on account of something freight rates " "Never mind that. What did he say to Kiska about voting that the men should be ready at such and such a time?" "No, no; I know about that. Before anything happened it was arranged that the men should vote about four o'clock.
One of the workmen understood, chattered excitedly with his fellows, and held up one soiled finger. "Ein," he said. "Kiska, he vork here." Shelby's shovel grated on the cylinder of the buried drill. From underneath its tripod protruded the booted leg of a man. "Go easy, boys," he cautioned. With his own hands he skilfully uncovered the victim's head and trunk.
The voting promises to be heavy toward the close, and I don't care to have my friends inconvenienced. By the way, Kiska," he broke off carelessly "there's a telegram for you over there. It came not ten minutes ago." By dint of facial contortion Kiska puzzled out the meaning, and handed the message to Shelby, who gave it grave perusal. "Ah," said he. "You see he's anxious about it, too.
It was perhaps appreciation of this aphorism's significance, perhaps sheer abundance of the milk of human kindness, perhaps a harmonious blending of both, which inspired Shelby's warm welcome to Kiska as he was about to leave his office to join Ruth Temple. "You shouldn't have come out so soon, Kiska," he protested, urging the big Pole to a chair, and bringing him a glass of water.
"And you chose " The shabby figure she had seen descend from Shelby's office visualized itself sharply. "Yes poor devil I chose Kiska." Her mood veered, and she whirled impulsively toward him, all womanliness and contrition. "Forgive me. How could I know? I thought I thought " "That it was some heeler with a vote to sell?" Her face betrayed her. "Forgive me," she repeated.
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