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He and Blackford Singleton sort o' divided things up in this section. Jerry Bassett corralled the coin; Blackford rolled up a couple of hundred thousand and capped it with a United States senatorship. Mort's not forty yet; married only child of Blackford F. Singleton Jerry made the match, I guess; it was the only way he could get Blackford's money. Mort prepared for college, but didn't go.
Such moments were fleeting, however; much of the time his mind was a blank, and it was only by a mechanical effort that he fought off unconsciousness. He had vague memories of many beatings at Mort's hands, of the slippery clean-swept ice of a stream over which he limply skidded, of being carried into a tent where a candle flickered and a stove roared.
The newcomers began to laugh loudly and Cantwell joined them. It was the first time he had laughed for weeks. He realized the fact with a start, then recollected also his sleeping partner, and said: "Sh-h! Mort's inside, asleep!" During the night everything had changed for Johnny Cantwell; his mental attitude, his hatred, his whole reasonless insanity.
I guess no man swings more influence in a state convention but he's peculiar. You'll find him different from these yahoos you've been writin' up. I know 'em all." "A man of influence and power leading citizen in every sense " Dan murmured as he scribbled a few notes. "Yep. Mort's considered rich.
It wasn't so easy pulling through House Bill Ninety-five; it was the hardest job of Mort's life; but he had to do it or take the count. And Lord! he certainly lost his head in defeating those appropriation bills; he let his spite toward the governor get the better of him. It wasn't the Republican governor he put in the hole; it was his own party."
I kept awake, in spite of that ancient dame who hashed up the Civil War, just to see what the next course would be!" His evenings of solitaire and music were awfully nice, but "Brown and Hastings are in college," he told his wife; "and Mort's on a job at his father's mills. I miss 'em like the devil."
You've been with him long enough by this time to know that we have some interests together." Dan, with his fingers interlocked behind his head, nodded carelessly. He had grown increasingly resentful of Thatcher's tone and manner, and was anxious to be rid of him. "Mort's a good deal closer-mouthed than I am. Mort likes to hide his tracks better than that, by George, Mort doesn't make any tracks!
The sight of his partner's rage had set Mort to shaking with a furious desire to fly at his throat, but fortunately, he retained a spark of sanity. "Then shut up, and quit chewing the rag. You talk too much." Mort's eyes were bloodshot; they fell upon the carbine under the sled lashings, and lingered there, then wavered.
Cantwell spoke harshly, leaning upon the handle-bars: "Well! What's the idea?" It was the longest sentence of the day. "I've hurt myself." Mort's voice was thin and strange; he raised himself to a sitting posture, and reached beneath his parka, then lay back weakly. He writhed, his face was twisted with pain. He continued to lie there, doubled into a knot of suffering.
Come inside and tell him the news." "Sure thing." "Well, well!" Martin said. "So you and Mort are still partners, eh?" "Still partners?" Johnny took up the pail of water. "Well, rather! We'll always be partners." His voice was young and full and hearty as he continued: "Why, Mort's the best fellow in the world. I'd lay down my life for him."
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