brand-new leaf and meet the people of this State
half-way on a proposition of fair play for everybody."
"There isn't any half-way point in a fight for life, David. You know
that as well, or better, than I do. But let that go. We'll give your son
the place you want him to have, and do it gladly."
The man who had once been his own foreman of round-ups straightened
himself in his chair and smote the table with his fist.
"No, by God, you won't--not in a thousand years, McVickar! Maybe you
could buy me--maybe you _have_ bought me in times past--but you can't
buy that boy! Listen, and I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I
telegraphed the boy this afternoon, telling him to throw up his job in
Boston and come out here. If he comes within a reasonable time he will
be legally a citizen of the State before election. You said we didn't
have anybody but Rankin to run for attorney-general. By Heavens,
Hardwick, I'll show you if we haven't!"
Mr. Hardwick McVickar was not of those who fight as one beating the air.
While the deft waiter was clearing the table and serving the small
coffees he kept silence. But when the time was fully ripe he said what
there was to be said.
"You've got us by the nape of the neck, as usual, Blount. Name your
terms."
"I have named them. Get in line with the new public opinion and we'll do
what we can for you."
During the long pause following this curt ultimatum the masterful
dictator of railroad policies deliberated thoughtfully upon many things.
With the ex-senator as the all-powerful head of the machine in this
State of many costly battle-fields, it would have been a weakness
inexcusable on the part of so astute a commander as McVickar if David
Blount's history, political and personal, had not been known to him in
all its details. As a contingency to be met sooner or later, the
vice-president had anticipated the thing which had now come to pass.
That Blount should wish to push the fortunes of his son was perfectly
natural; and it was no less natural that he should push them by making
the railroad company's pay-roll furnish the motive-power. The magnate
smiled inwardly when he remembered that he had given Gantry, the
division traffic manager of the Transcontinental, a quiet hint to look
up one Evan Blount, a young lawyer, on his next visit to Boston. By all
odds it would be better to wait for Gantry's report before taking any
irrevocable steps in the bargaining with Evan Blount's father; bu
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