"Better than my father's?" Cortland couldn't restrain a gasp of admiration. "Why, Wray, your property isn't worth what it was."
"Why not?" savagely.
"Well, for one thing," said Cortland coolly, "your railroad connections are not what they might be. I might add to that, there's no assurance they're going to be improved."
"Not unless I give it to you. Trains are scheduled to run on the Saguache Short Line on the twenty-fifth of May."
"They're not going to run, Wray." Jeff turned on him quickly, but Cortland's eyes met his eagerly. "That's true," he added. "Believe it or not, as you choose."
Jeff's sharp glance blurred quickly. Then he smiled and looked out of the window with his childish stare.
"Oh, well," he said quietly, "we'll do the best we can."
"You'd better take my advice and come in with, us now. We'll meet you in a fair spirit——"
"Why?" asked Jeff suddenly. "Why should you meet me in any kind of spirit. You've got things all your own way—at the upper end of the Valley—now you say you've coppered my outlet at Pueblo."
"Yes, that's true. But there are other reasons why we prefer to go no farther without an effort to come to terms. We're frank in admitting that when we can accomplish anything by compromise we prefer to do it. This fight has been expensive. It promises to be more expensive. But, no matter what your reasons, ours are greater, and no matter what move you make, the Amalgamated can check you. The Amalgamated will win in the end. It always has. It always will. You've only to look at its history——"