“Yes, sir.” He held out a hand. “I only wanted to make sure.”
Simeon handed him the letter. “The C., B. and L. is a big road,” he said. “They ’ve got smart men, but they can’t run the ’R. and Q.’--not yet.” He pointed to the words scrawled in the corner. “You write what I’ve marked there. Don’t let it go downstairs.”
Simeon wrote with level brows, scowling at the paper before him. By-and-by he looked up. The boy, bending over his desk, had a troubled look. The president of the road watched him a few minutes in silence. He pushed back his papers. “Oh, John--?”
“Don’t you worry about that. It gives them a chance to cut. But they’ve been doing it all along on the side. I have pretty clear proof they carried Thornton & Birdwell last year for six--five and three-quarters, part of the time, and a rebate besides.”
“But this means open fight,” said the boy. He was looking down at the note.
“And it ’s what I want,” said Simeon quickly. “They’ve had their spies on me long enough. Let ’em come out and fight for what they get.”
The boy was still looking at the paper, a question in his eyes. “You don’t think they will connect with the Bridgewater terminus?” he said.
Simeon’s eyes were on him shrewdly. “I think they ’ll _try_ to.”
“If they do, they ’ll find they can’t--not this year, nor next.”
Simeon nodded. “You remember telling me last year that the Bardwell farm would block their road and that you thought it could be got?”
“I knew they needed money,” said John. “They took a fair price,” said the old man drily.
The boy’s face lighted slowly--“They can’t put through their road!”
“Not without a lot of trouble. They can compel us to sell--maybe. But it will take time--and it will take a lot of money,” he said grimly.
The boy’s face answered the look in his. “You going to fight ’em?”
The man nodded slowly. “I ’m going to fight ’em.” He touched the letter with his hand. “Do you know what that rate would mean for the road?”
“It has paid pretty well for two years,” said the boy thoughtfully.
“And it would pay again,” said the man. He looked at the boy. “It would pay three years--perhaps four--for the road. But it would n’t pay the country.”
The boy looked at him, a little puzzled light in his face.