“If it were true, if Commodore Durfee does own the line, what effect would it have on my work here?” “Not a bit! Not a d--n bit!” Tiffany’s big hand came down on his knee with a bang. “This line belongs to Daniel De Reamer, and Old Durfee’s thievery and low tricks and kept judges don’t go at Sherman, or here neither. It’s jugglery, the whole business; there ain’t anything honest about it.” Carhart looked away, and again restrained a smile; he was thinking of where the money came from. “And I’ll tell you this,” Tiffany concluded, “if anybody comes into my office and tries to take possession for Old Durfee, I’ll say, ‘Hold on, my friend, who signed that paper you’ve got there?’ And if I find it ain’t signed by five judges--_five_, mind!--of the Supreme Court of the United States sittin’ in Washington, I’ll say, ‘Get out of here!’ And if they won’t get out, I’ll kick ’em out. And there’s five hundred men in Sherman, a thousand men, who’ll help me to do it. If it’s court business, I guess our judges are as good as theirs. And if it comes to shooting, by God we’ll shoot!” “I agree with you, on the whole,” said Carhart. “Mr. De Reamer and Mr. Chambers have put me here to beat the H. D. & W. to Red Hills, and I’m going to do it. But--” “That’s the talk, man!” “But let’s get back to Peet. He could help us a little if he felt like it. You told me last month, Tiffany, that Peet had given you a list of the numbers of all my supply cars, with an understanding that they wouldn’t be used for anything else. Have you got that list with you?” “No; it’s in my desk, at Sherman.” “All right. I’ll call for it day after to-morrow.” “At Sherman?” “Yes. Peet isn’t sending those cars out here, and I’m going to find out where he is sending them.” “There’s one thing, Carhart,” said Tiffany, as they rose, “I’m sure Peet don’t know how bad off you were for water. He was holding up the trains for material.” “He ought to understand, Tiffany. I wired him to send the water anyway.” “I know. But that would be wholesale murder. He didn’t realize--” “I’m going to undertake the job of making him realize, Tiffany.” The whistle of the vice-president’s special engine was tooting as they started back. On the one hand, as far as human beings could be distinguished with the naked eye, the groups and the long lines of laborers were shuffling to and from their work on the grade; the picked men of the iron squad, muscular, deep chested, were working side by side with the Mexicans and the negroes, as also were the spikers and strappers and the men of the tie squad. On the other hand, the ladies of the vice-president’s party were picking their way daintily back toward Mr. Chambers’s private car, where savory odors and a white-clad chef awaited them.