"We won't over-blame you, Mr.Grease." The sheriff rode away, Tom's smiling eyes following him.
"That touch about your having forty voters at your beck and call must have stuck in the honorable sheriff's crop, Dave," chuckled the cub chief engineer.
"I reckon it does," drawled Dave.

"A man like Grease can't understand that a man of my kind wouldn't ask any fellow working for him what ticket he voted for on election day.

You certainly hit the sheriff hard, Mr.Reade.

In the first place, six thousand a year is a lot more money than the sheriff gets himself.

Forty voters are fully as many as he can control, for which reason Grease, in his mind's eye, sees me winning his office away from him any day that I want to do so." Ere three days had passed Sheriff Grease had lost fully half of his own force, and some of his controlled voters as well, for many of his deputies flocked to serve under Dave Fulsbee.