And do it
quickly, old man. The time is growing fearfully short, and my patience
isn't what it used to be."
"My Lord! anybody would think you owned the Transcontinental Company,
lock, stock, and barrel! Where under heaven did you get your nerve,
Evan? Blest if I don't believe you could out-bluff the old--er--your
father, himself, if you once got the fool notion into your head that it
was your duty to try!"
"You are side-stepping again, Dick, and that won't go any longer. You've
got to fish or cut bait, and do one or the other pretty soon."
"I'd cut the bait all right, if I were Mr. McVickar, Evan. I'd fire you
so blamed far that you wouldn't be able to find your way back in a month
of Sundays."
Blount tapped his pocket. "As long as I have these documents, Mr.
McVickar doesn't dare to fire me. And if you and he don't come down
within the next few days--yes, it's a matter of days, now--I'll fire
myself and go over every foot of the ground again, telling what I know."
Gantry's eyes darkened. He had graduated with honors from the particular
department in railroading in which patience is more than a virtue. Yet
there are limits.
"You seem to have entirely forgotten that little talk we had in my
office the night you were going to Angora," he said.
"No; I haven't forgotten it--not for a single waking minute.
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