The dinner for three in the back-office dining-room followed in due course, and Tregarvon, who brought a working-man’s appetite to the table, let the other two do most of the talking. Carfax proved to be at his captivating best; solicitous for the guest’s entertainment, ingenuous, eager to be informed. Wouldn’t Mr. Hartridge have some more of the--er--rabbit, he thought it must be? And was it really a fact that the entire Cumberland region was underlaid by a vast sheet of bituminous coal? Tregarvon ate and listened, and presently became aware of two things: that Carfax was persistently threshing the talk around to the coal-measures, and that the professor seemed equally determined to escape from them. A little later, he observed that in this verbal ball-passing Carfax was proving himself the better player. Hartridge was coerced inch by inch; first into talking about the Southern coal-fields in the abstract, and finally into relating the ancient history of the Ocoee; which was the purpose for which Carfax had baited and set the dinner trap. “I suspect Mr. Tregarvon can tell you more about the history of the Ocoee than I can,” Hartridge demurred modestly, after Carfax had fairly pushed him over the brink; and upon Tregarvon’s monosyllabic disclaimer, he went on reflectively: “Let me see; I believe it was about ten years ago that the first company was formed--to the sound of the cornet, flute, harp, sackbut, psaltery, and dulcimer, as you might say.” “A promoter’s scheme?” queried Carfax, alertly inquisitive now. “Yes. A man from New York--Parker was his name--launched the enterprise; bought a little land, obtained free-will donations of a great deal more, and, as a favor to the benighted natives who had contributed the land, consented to part with about forty-five per cent of the stock of his company at half-price, payable in money.” “Dear, dear; what a world this is!” sighed Carfax gently. “Sold them their own land back again, did he? And then what?” Hartridge’s smile was genially cynical. “I think it took the able Mr. Parker all of four months, or possibly a little longer, to squeeze the local stockholders--the only investors who had contributed any real values--out of his scheme; after which he sold the reorganized Ocoee to a New England syndicate. The Yankees--pardon me; the word is no longer a term of reproach with us--the Yankees meant honestly by the Ocoee; though, of course, they were under no obligation to recognize the frozen-out natives. They spent money liberally in development and on a costly equipment. But it proved to be a bad investment for them--as it had for the natives.”