"Rot! How did we get the Royal Commission except by those letters and meetings? That put the Manitoba Grain Act on the statutes, didn't it? Mean to say we're no farther ahead? We've got the whole grain trade under control and supervision----" "Like ducks you have!" The former rancher threw back his head and laughed. "We've got the privilege of loading our wheat direct on cars through the flat warehouses or any other way we like----" "What's the good o' that if a man can't get a car when he wants it?" demanded McNair impatiently. "The elevator gang 've organized to grab everything in sight. I know it. You know it. Everybody knows it, by heaven! So what's the use o' talkin'?" "We've got to be fair, though. The elevator people have put a lot of money--Say, why can't we organize, too?" suggested Motherwell with a flash of inspiration. "We haven't tried that yet. That's constitutional. That's what the livestock breeders have done," he said eagerly. McNair shook his head. "I tell you, Bill, it's too late for that sort o' thing," he objected. "Unless you mean organizin' to fight--" "Exactly." "With guns, if necessary?" "It won't be necessary." "Possibly not to shoot anybody. The showin' mebbe'll turn the trick. Now, look here. My idea is that if a bunch of us fellows got together on the quiet some night an' seized a few elevators--Say, wouldn't it bring things to a head so quick we'd get action? The law's there, but these fellows are deliberately breakin' it an' we got to show 'em----" "The action you'd get would be the wrong kind, Mac," protested W. R. Motherwell emphatically. "You'd land in jail!" "Don't see it that way," persisted McNair. "Wouldn't give a continental if I did so long's it woke a few people up." "I tell you you're on the wrong trail unless you want to get it where the chicken got the axe!" "Doggone it, man! Ain't that where we're gettin' it _now_?" "Whereas with the right kind of organization----" "Don't believe it," grunted McNair, starting to climb back to his horse. "The time for any more o' these here granny tea-parties is past to my way o' thinkin' an' if we can't agree on it, we'd better shut up before we get mad." He vaulted easily into the saddle. "But I'll tell you one thing, W. R.--there's the sweetest little flare-up you ever saw on its way. I was talkin' the other day to Ed. Partridge, the Railton boys, Al. Quigley, Billy Bonner and some more----" "And I'll bet they gave you a lot of sound advice, Mac!" laughed Motherwell confidently. "That's alright," resented McNair, the tan of his cheek deepening a trifle. "They're a pretty sore bunch an' a fellow from down Turtle Mountain way in Manitoba told me----" "That the mud-turtle and the jack-rabbit finally agreed that slow and steady----" "Bah! You're sure hopeless," grinned the owner of the Two-Bar, giving his horse the rein.