“You don’t want much, do you?” he said, cheerfully. “But I don’t see how you can use the tunnels. However, that’s no reason why I shouldn’t take care of them for you, if you think that’s important.” “It’s this way,” said Cowperwood, thoughtfully. “I’ll make you a preferred partner in all the ventures that I control if you do as I suggest. The street-railways, as they stand now, will have to be taken up lock, stock, and barrel, and thrown into the scrap heap within eight or nine years at the latest. You see what the South Side company is beginning to do now. When it comes to the West and North Side companies they won’t find it so easy. They aren’t earning as much as the South Side, and besides they have those bridges to cross. That means a severe inconvenience to a cable line. In the first place, the bridges will have to be rebuilt to stand the extra weight and strain. Now the question arises at once—at whose expense? The city’s?” “That depends on who’s asking for it,” replied Mr. McKenty, amiably. “Quite so,” assented Cowperwood. “In the next place, this river traffic is becoming impossible from the point of view of a decent street-car service. There are waits now of from eight to fifteen minutes while these tows and vessels get through. Chicago has five hundred thousand population to-day. How much will it have in 1890? In 1900? How will it be when it has eight hundred thousand or a million?” “You’re quite right,” interpolated McKenty. “It will be pretty bad.” “Exactly. But what is worse, the cable lines will carry trailers, or single cars, from feeder lines. There won’t be single cars waiting at these draws—there will be trains, crowded trains. It won’t be advisable to delay a cable-train from eight to fifteen minutes while boats are making their way through a draw. The public won’t stand for that very long, will it, do you think?” “Not without making a row, probably,” replied McKenty. “Well, that means what, then?” asked Cowperwood. “Is the traffic going to get any lighter? Is the river going to dry up?” Mr. McKenty stared. Suddenly his face lighted. “Oh, I see,” he said, shrewdly. “It’s those tunnels you’re thinking about. Are they in any shape to be used?” “They can be made over cheaper than new ones can be built.” “True for you,” replied McKenty, “and if they’re in any sort of repair they’d be just what you’d want.” He was emphatic, almost triumphant. “They belong to the city. They cost pretty near a million apiece, those things.” “I know it,” said Cowperwood. “Now, do you see what I’m driving at?” “Do I see!” smiled McKenty. “That’s a real idea you have, Cowperwood. I take off my hat to you. Say what you want.” “Well, then, in the first place,” replied Cowperwood, genially, “it is agreed that the city won’t part with those two tunnels under any circumstances until we can see what can be done about this other matter?” “It will not.”