"Go ahead, I'm following you." "The long and the short of it is that we've had enough." "Of me?" The voice was very quiet. "Yes, damn it, of you; that is, in your present position of general manager. You can have one or two of the subsidiary companies but not the whole darn thing, and--" "The point is," cut in Wimperley, "that we're afraid of you. We've not paid a dividend and, as things go, there's not any likelihood that we ever will. It's not easy to talk like this, and don't think we under-estimate what you've done. No other man I know of could have done it, but there's a limit to the money available in the State of Pennsylvania for this business--and we've reached it--that's all." "And if you want to know what's upset the apple-cart," chirped Riggs with a little shiver--for they were all taking turns by now--"it's that fool proposal to build a railway through this ungodly wilderness." The little man glanced about him with visible abhorrence. "And a blast furnace without any ore," concluded Stoughton heavily. Clark's eyes wandered round the group while through his whole body ran a divine thrill. He had very swiftly interpreted the purpose of this official visit. The directors wanted to get rid of him but funked the job, and now he experienced a certain contempt for their helplessness. He had a vivid sense of the dramatic and this tramp had been carefully thought out. The opportunity was made and it was for them to use it. He drew a long breath, conscious that here was the moment which comes but seldom in the lives of men. It was only five years ago that, practically penniless, he had overheard a conversation in a train. "Ore?" he said coolly without changing a muscle. "Why, you're sitting on five million tons of the best ore I ever saw." A blue jay lit on a branch over his head and looked impudently down. No one spoke. Presently Wimperley scratched at the moss with his heel, bared a strip of rock and stared at it as though he had hurt it. Stoughton rolled over and shot side glances at Clark, whose eyes were fixed on the jagged horizon. "What?" whispered Riggs. "The discovery was made some days ago by one of our own prospectors, but I could not speak definitely until the various analyses were completed. It is excellent ore and will smelt well. There is limestone within two miles of the works. The coke, of course, will have to be brought up.'" "I'll be damned!" murmured Stoughton in a voice husky with reverence. The others spoke not at all, but peered blinkingly at Clark as though his recumbent body were hiding more wonders from them. Presently Wimperley, who knew something of ore, bent stiffly forward, picked up a fragment of rock and, after a long scrutiny, nodded slowly. "This exposure is about half a mile long," said the quiet voice. "It crops out there and there," he pointed to neighboring ridges, "and there's more beyond that, if you'd care to walk over."