“My dear sir, let us talk it over,” said the Senator, bringing forth a pair of spectacles and setting the bow upon his nose.
The engineer’s visage failed to relax at this pacific proposal.
“I gave them their chance and they declined; they’ll have no other,” he stated. “Those men have browbeaten the company long enough. They refused, and as I anticipated that refusal I made preparations accordingly; a hundred and fifty white workmen arrived at Bowenville from Denver this morning and a hundred and fifty more will come to-morrow. They will do the work.”
The Senator’s lips quivered and the upper one lifted in a movement like a snarl, showing tobacco-stained teeth.
“The matter isn’t closed, understand that,” he snapped out. “We have the directors’ promise no outside labor shall be brought in here for this job, and the promise shall be kept.”
“The new men go to work in the morning,” Weir said.
“You’ll repent of this action, young man, you’ll repent of it.” The Senator seized the whisky bottle and 22 angrily poured himself a second drink. “You’ll repent of it as sure as your name is––is––whatever it is.”
The engineer took a step nearer the older man. His face now was as hard as granite.
“Weir is my name,” he said. “Did you ever hear it before?”
“Weir––Weir?” came in a questioning mutter.