Horace smiled a little, and then stretched out his limbs in a comprehensive yawn. “I can’t sleep on the cars as well as I used to,” he said, in explanation. “I almost wish now I’d gone to bed when I got home. I don’t want to be sleepy _this_ afternoon, of all times.” The General had returned to his paper. “I see there’s a story afloat that you chaps mean to bring in French Canadian workmen, when the other fellows are locked out. I thought there was a contract labor law against that.” Horace yawned again, and then, rising, poured out a little glassful of spirits from a bottle on the mantel, and tossed it off. “No,” he said, “it’s easy enough to get around that. Wendover is up to all those dodges. Besides, I think they are already domiciled in Massachusetts.” “Vane” Boyce laid down the paper and took off his eye-glasses. “I hope these fellows haven’t got you into a scrape,” he remarked, eyeing his son. “I don’t more than half like this whole business.” “Don’t you worry,” was Horace’s easy response. “I’ll take good care of myself. If it comes to ‘dog eat dog,’ they’ll find my teeth are filed down to a point quite as sharp as theirs are.” “Maybe so,” said the father, doubtfully. “But that Tenney--he’s got eyes in the back of his head.” “My dear fellow,” said Horace, with a pleasant air of patronage, “he’s a mere child compared with Wendover. But I’m not afraid of them both. I’m going to play a card this afternoon that will take the wind out of both their sails. When that is done, I’ll be in a position to lay down the law to them, and read the riot act too, if necessary.” The General looked inquiry, and Horace went on: “I want you to call for me at the office at three, and then we’ll go together to the Minsters. I wouldn’t smoke after luncheon, if I were you. I’m not going down until afternoon. I’ll explain to you what my idea is as we walk out there. You’ve got some ‘heavy father’ business to do.”