THE COLONEL'S LAST

CAMPAIGN

All day long Colonel Talbott sat in his leather chair in the lobby of the Grand, twiddling his cane, smoking his cigar, and talking politics. Under the broad brim of his black slouch hat his hair fell in silver wisps almost to his shoulders, and the long mustache, drooping like a Georgian's at the corners of his mouth, was as white as his hair, save at the spot where his cigar had tinged it yellow.

There was not a politician of either party between Dunleith and Cairo who was not proud to bend over the old fellow's chair, take his thin hand and say: "Hello, Colonel, what's new in politics?" The colonel had one invariable reply: "I'm out of politics, and don't know anything. What do you hear?" Sometimes, if the passing politician happened to be of the old day, the colonel would take him by the