know, of course, the regulations," answered S. Behrman.
"Freight of this kind coming from the Eastern points into the State must
go first to one of our common points and be reshipped from there."

Harran did remember now, but never before had the matter so struck
home. He leaned back in his seat in dumb amazement for the instant.
Even Magnus had turned a little pale. Then, abruptly, Harran broke out
violent and raging.

"What next? My God, why don't you break into our houses at night? Why
don't you steal the watch out of my pocket, steal the horses out of the
harness, hold us up with a shot-gun; yes, 'stand and deliver; your money
or your life.' Here we bring our ploughs from the East over your lines,
but you're not content with your long-haul rate between Eastern points
and Bonneville. You want to get us under your ruinous short-haul rate
between Bonneville and San Francisco, AND RETURN. Think of it! Here's a
load of stuff for Bonneville that can't stop at Bonneville, where it
is consigned, but has got to go up to San Francisco first BY WAY OF
Bonneville, at forty cents per ton and then be reshipped from San
Francisco back to Bonneville again at FIFTY-ONE cents per ton, the
short-haul rate. And we have to pay it all or go without. Here are the
ploughs right here, in sight of the land they have got to be used
on, the season just ready for them, and we can't touch them. Oh," he
exclaimed in deep disgust, "isn't it a pretty mess! Isn't it a farce!
the whole dirty business!"

S. Behrman listened to him unmoved, his little eyes blinking under his
fat forehead, the gold chain of hollow links clicking against the pearl
buttons of his waistcoat as he breathed.

"It don't do any good to let loose like that, Harran," he said at
length. "I am willing to do what I can for you. I'll hurry the ploughs
through, but I can't change the freight regulation of the road."

"What's your blackmail for this?" vociferated Harran. "How much do you
want to let us go? How much have we got to pay you to be ALLOWED to use
our own ploughs--what's your figure? Come, spit it out."

"I see you are trying to make me angry, Harran," returned S. Behrman,
"but you won't succeed. Better give up trying, my boy. As I said, the
best way is to have the railroad and the farmer get along amicably. It
is the only way we can do business. Well, s'long, Governor, I must trot
along. S'long, Harran." He took himself off.

But before leaving Guadalajara Magnus d