th unnecessary frequency.

"Mr. Broderson, my son, Lyman, my eldest son. Mr. Annixter, my son,
Lyman."

The Governor introduced him to the ranchers, proud of Lyman's good
looks, his correct dress, his ease of manner. Lyman shook hands all
around, keeping up a flow of small talk, finding a new phrase for each
member, complimenting Osterman, whom he already knew, upon his talent
for organisation, recalling a mutual acquaintance to the mind of old
Broderson. At length, however, he sat down at the end of the table,
opposite his brother. There was a silence.

Magnus rose to recapitulate the reasons for the extra session of the
Committee, stating again that the Board of Railway Commissioners which
they--the ranchers--had succeeded in seating had at length issued the
new schedule of reduced rates, and that Mr. Derrick had been obliging
enough to offer to come down to Los Muertos in person to acquaint the
wheat-growers of the San Joaquin with the new rates for the carriage of
their grain.

But Lyman very politely protested, addressing his father punctiliously
as "Mr. Chairman," and the other ranchers as "Gentlemen of the Executive
Committee of the League." He had no wish, he said, to disarrange the
regular proceedings of the Committee. Would it not be preferable to
defer the reading of his report till "new business" was called for?
In the meanwhile, let the Committee proceed with its usual work. He
understood the necessarily delicate nature of this work, and would be
pleased to withdraw till the proper time arrived for him to speak.

"Good deal of backing and filling about the reading of a column of
figures," muttered Annixter to the man at his elbow.

Lyman "awaited the Committee's decision." He sat down, touching the ends
of his mustache.

"Oh, play ball," growled Annixter.

Gethings rose to say that as the meeting had been called solely for the
purpose of hearing and considering the new grain tariff, he was of the
opinion that routine business could be dispensed with and the schedule
read at once. It was so ordered.

Lyman rose and made a long speech. Voluble as Osterman himself, he,
nevertheless, had at his command a vast number of ready-made phrases,
the staples of a political speaker, the stock in trade of the commercial
lawyer, which rolled off his tongue with the most persuasive fluency.
By degrees, in the course of his speech, he began to insinuate the idea
that the wheat-growers had never expected to settle