“I have, Mr. Oglesby, and I shall go down to Springfield on the _Warrior_, which will start in a short time.” “Good. When you have anything to do you attend to it at once. That is a trait I like. I wonder what the colonel would say if he knew that two of his passengers were about to become his rivals for traffic on the lake?” “But you have a perfect right to enter into this undertaking, Judge Oglesby. The people are clamoring for it. It is needed. Millville has been owned body and soul too long by two men, neither of whom has shown any disposition to do the right thing.” “Brave for you, Dean Mercer!” cried the rich man, clasping the hand of his youthful visitor with a hearty grip. “That’s the kind of spirit I want to see. It is the kind that hews its way through the most dense obstruction. Only there is one thing I want you never to say again. Don’t say ‘you,’ but say ‘we.’ It is true I am furnishing the money, but there are fools that might do that. You are furnishing the power to develop this work. So we make a partnership, and it is _we_ that are doing this.” If Dean had made a bold assertion when he had said that Millville was owned body and soul by two men, there were not many in the town who would have denied its truth. With all its natural features of advantage, its beautiful scenery, its fortunate location, the dream of its founders that it might become a prosperous and powerful centre of population and business had not been realized. This was due mainly to two men. One of these was Squire David Littleton, who owned and operated the line of stages running between Millville and Springfield, the metropolis of that section of country. The other man was Colonel Ebenezer Darringford, who owned and operated the line of packets that plied up and down the lake, getting a share of the public patronage. These lines were, in a way, rivals, and each operator hated and did all he could against his competitor. Still this rivalry did not, as is sometimes the case, improve the situation. If the squire’s coaches were miserable affairs, unfit to carry passengers, the colonel’s boats were no better. Both had grown rich out of their business, and the town had grown poor and helpless. Mr. Montague had spoken of this to Dean before the latter had left him: “The people may grumble at the old shaky coaches and the leaky, slow-moving packets, but they gain nothing by their clamor, simply because this couple of old-timers have got them by the throat. “They have talked of railroads and better steamers upon the lake, and now that Judge Oglesby has moved here with his money and political influence this talk is revived. I do not see that the town is likely to profit by it. He has only complicated the fight; given the community another leech to suck its very life blood, without the inclination or ability to improve its condition.