dered unprofitable, so thinly
populated was the territory they served, and so short the distance from
the business heart. Later, however, as the territory filled up, they
did better; only then the long waits at the bridges occurred. The
management, feeling that the lines were likely to be poorly patronized,
had put down poor, little, light-weight rails, and run slimpsy cars
which were as cold as ice in winter and as hot as stove-ovens in
summer. No attempt had been made to extend the down-town terminus of
the several lines into the business center--they stopped just over the
river which bordered it at the north. (On the South Side Mr. Schryhart
had done much better for his patrons. He had already installed a loop
for his cable about Merrill's store.) As on the West Side, straw was
strewn in the bottom of all the cars in winter to keep the feet of the
passengers warm, and but few open cars were used in summer. The
directors were averse to introducing them because of the expense. So
they had gone on and on, adding lines only where they were sure they
would make a good profit from the start, putting down the same style of
cheap rail that had been used in the beginning, and employing the same
antique type of car which rattled and trembled as it ran, until the
patrons were enraged to the point of anarchy. Only recently, because of
various suits and complaints inaugurated, the company had been greatly
annoyed, but they scarcely knew what to do, how to meet the onslaught.
Though there was here and there a man of sense--such as Terrence
Mulgannon, the general superintendent; Edwin Kaffrath, a director;
William Johnson, the constructing engineer of the company--yet such
other men as Onias C. Skinner, the president, and Walter Parker, the
vice-president, were reactionaries of an elderly character,
conservative, meditative, stingy, and, worst of all, fearful or without
courage for great adventure. It is a sad commentary that age almost
invariably takes away the incentive to new achievement and makes "Let
well enough alone" the most appealing motto.

Mindful of this, Cowperwood, with a now splendid scheme in his mind,
one day invited John J. McKenty over to his house to dinner on a social
pretext. When the latter, accompanied by his wife, had arrived, and
Aileen had smiled on them both sweetly, and was doing her best to be
nice to Mrs. McKenty, Cowperwood remarked:

"McKenty, do you know anything about these two tunnels t