“I suppose you would. Everybody in Mesa seems to have taken sides either with Mr. Ridgway or the Consolidated. Still, you have an option. Is he what his friends proclaim him—the generous-hearted independent fighting against trust domination? Or is he merely an audacious ore-thief, as his enemies say? The truth must be somewhere.” “It seems to lie mostly in point of view here the angle of observation being determined by interest,” he answered. “And from your angle of observation?” “He is the most unusual man I ever saw, the most resourceful and the most competent. He never knows when he is beaten. I suppose that’s the reason he never is beaten finally. We have driven him to the wall a score of times. My experience with him is that he’s most dangerous when one thinks he must be about hammered out. He always hits back then in the most daring and unexpected way.” “With a coupling-pin,” she suggested with a little reminiscent laugh. “Metaphorically speaking. He reaches for the first effective weapon to his hand.” “You haven’t quite answered my question yet,” she reminded him. “Is he what his friends or what his enemies think him?” “If you ask me I can only say that I’m one of his enemies.” “But a fair-minded man,” she replied quickly. “Thank you. Then I’ll say that perhaps he is neither just what his friends or his foes think him. One must make allowances for his training and temperament, and for that quality of bigness in him. ‘Mediocre men go soberly on the highroads, but saints and scoundrels meet in the jails,’” he smilingly quoted. “He would make a queer sort of saint,” she laughed. “A typical twentieth century one of a money-mad age.” She liked it in him that he would not use the opportunity she had made to sneer at his adversary, none the less because she knew that Ridgway might not have been so scrupulous in his place. That Lyndon Hobart’s fastidious instincts for fair play had stood in the way of his success in the fight to down Ridgway she had repeatedly heard. Of late, rumors had persisted in reporting dissatisfaction with his management of the Consolidated at the great financial center on Broadway which controlled the big copper company. Simon Harley, the dominating factor in the octopus whose tentacles reached out in every direction to monopolize the avenues of wealth, demanded of his subordinates results. Methods were no concern of his, and failure could not be explained to him. He wanted Ridgway crushed, and the pulse of the copper production regulated lay the Consolidated. Instead, he had seen Ridgway rise steadily to power and wealth despite his efforts to wipe him off the slate. Hobart was perfectly aware that his head was likely to fall when Harley heard of Purcell’s decision in regard to the Never Say Die.