"Can you get permission to cross it?" asked Blake.
"He! he!" chuckled Farrington; "can I get it? I'll take it!"
"Well, that is your own matter," spoke Blake. "All we want is a bond guarantee for five years, that you will run enough freight over the spur to equal a ten per cent. annual investment."
"Isn't my word good enough for that?" demanded Farrington arrogantly.
"The Great Northern takes no man's word where a contract is concerned," was the definite answer.
"All right, close the matter up as soon as you like," said Farrington. "Here's where you control the switches, eh?" he continued, leaving the plat and taking a curious glance about the tower.
"Yes."
"I should say it took a clear head and lots of experience to avoid mistakes."
"It does, and lots of muscle, too--eh, Fairbanks?" spoke the master mechanic.
Ralph nodded. He aimed to escape recognition at the hands of Farrington, who, in another minute, would have left the place. He knew, however, that he was discovered, as the magnate uttered a short, sharp grunt.