n on it and improved it. It's worth easily twenty an acre now. But
I can't take advantage of that rise in value so long as you won't sell,
so long as I don't own it. You're blocking me."

"But, according to you, the railroad can't take advantage of the rise in
any case. According to you, you can sell for twenty dollars, but we can
only get two and a half."

"Who made it worth twenty?" cried Annixter. "I've improved it up to
that figure. Genslinger seems to have that idea in his nut, too. Do you
people think you can hold that land, untaxed, for speculative purposes
until it goes up to thirty dollars and then sell out to some one
else--sell it over our heads? You and Genslinger weren't in office when
those contracts were drawn. You ask your boss, you ask S. Behrman, he
knows. The General Office is pledged to sell to us in preference to any
one else, for two and a half."

"Well," observed Ruggles decidedly, tapping the end of his pencil on his
desk and leaning forward to emphasise his words, "we're not selling NOW.
That's said and signed, Mr. Annixter."

"Why not? Come, spit it out. What's the bunco game this time?"

"Because we're not ready. Here's your check."

"You won't take it?"

"No."

"I'll make it a cash payment, money down--the whole of it--payable to
Cyrus Blakelee Ruggles, for the P. and S. W."

"No."

"Third and last time."

"No."

"Oh, go to the devil!"

"I don't like your tone, Mr. Annixter," returned Ruggles, flushing
angrily. "I don't give a curse whether you like it or not," retorted
Annixter, rising and thrusting the check into his pocket, "but never you
mind, Mr. Ruggles, you and S. Behrman and Genslinger and Shelgrim and
the whole gang of thieves of you--you'll wake this State of California
up some of these days by going just one little bit too far, and there'll
be an election of Railroad Commissioners of, by, and for the people,
that'll get a twist of you, my bunco-steering friend--you and your
backers and cappers and swindlers and thimble-riggers, and smash you,
lock, stock, and barrel. That's my tip to you and be damned to you, Mr.
Cyrus Blackleg Ruggles."

Annixter stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him, and
Ruggles, trembling with anger, turned to his desk and to the blotting
pad written all over with the words LANDS, TWENTY DOLLARS, TWO AND A
HALF, OPTION, and, over and over again, with great swelling curves and
flourishes, RAILROAD, RAILROAD, RAILROAD.

But as