"Yes, but if they weren't Eastern fellows--" "Oh, a bondholder's rights are as good one place as another. Those suits are usually brought in the name of the trustee in their behalf." "Now, do you know what I'm going to do?" demanded Porter, settling back in his chair and placing his feet on Fenton's table. "I'm going to turn up at the next annual meeting and clean this thing out. You don't think it's any good; I've got faith in the company and in the town; I believe it's going to be a good thing. This little gang here that's been running it has got to go. I've dug up some stock here that everybody thought was lost. At the last meeting only eight hundred out of five thousand shares were voted." Fenton frowned and continued to punish himself with the ruler. "You beat me! You haven't the slightest idea who the other shareholders are; the company is thoroughly rotten in all its past history, and here you go plunging into it up to your eyes. And they say you're the most conservative banker on the river." "I guess you don't have to get me out of many scrapes," said Porter, doggedly. "When's the annual meeting?" asked Fenton, suddenly. "It's day after to-morrow--a close call, but I'll make it all right." Fenton threw down his ruler impatiently. "Mr. Porter, I want you to remember that I haven't given you any advice at all in this matter. It's an extra hazardous thing that you're doing. Now, I don't know anything definitely about it, but--I've got the impression that Margrave's paralleling your lines in this business." Porter brought his feet down with a crash. "Where'd you get that?" "It's this way," said Fenton, in his quietest tones. "A Baltimore lawyer that I know wrote me a letter,--I just got it this morning,--asking me about Margrave's responsibility. It seems that my friend has a client who owns some of these shares. A good deal of that stock went to Baltimore and Philadelphia, you may remember. I assume that Margrave is after it." "Wire your friend right away not to sell,--" shouted Porter, pounding the table with his fist. "I did that this morning, and here's his answer. I got it just before you came in. Margrave evidently got anxious and wired them to send certificates with draft through the Drovers' National. They're probably on the way now." He passed the telegram across to Porter, who put on his glasses and read it. "Now," continued Fenton, "I don't know just what this means, but it looks to me as if Margrave was hot on the track of the trolley company himself; and Tim Margrave isn't a particularly pleasant fellow to go into business with, is he?" "But the bondholders would still have their chance, wouldn't they, even if he got a majority of the stock?" "Well, you haven't any bonds, have you? First thing I know you'll be telling me that you've got a few barrels of them," he added, jokingly. He could not help laughing at Porter.