The three men started, and Berkely grinned.
"I may add that in addition to Mr. Clinton (who at ten o'clock this morning had not yet retired from the presidency of your road), the train also carries other officers of your company as well as stockholders of mine. A lunch has been provided at the northern terminus of the road, and a spirit of harmony dominates the occasion—one which I'm sure you'll admit is noteworthy in every particular."
General Bent's brow twitched ominously. "I hope, Mr. Berkely, you'll come to the point without delay," he said.
"Willingly. The Saguache Short Line has fulfilled its part of the contract. The present officers of your company are willing to carry out theirs. The object of our visit was merely to reassure ourselves of your friendly disposition—the friendly disposition of the newly elected officers of your road—and to arrange with all proper haste a practical schedule for the operation of the line."
Larry paused and sank back in his chair with a smile. General Bent had risen and was leaning forward over the table toward Berkely, his face a thunder-cloud.
"You want a schedule, do you?" he growled, his voice deepening. "Well, I'll give you one—I'll give it to you now, and it won't take a great while, either. As long as I'm in control of the Denver and California Railroad Company not a wheel shall turn on your little jerk-water line within a mile of Pueblo. That's my answer to your proposition. Our yard limit marks your terminus—do you understand? Get your ore there if you can find any," he finished brutally.
But Berkely refused to lose his temper.
"You're aware, of course," he said coolly, "that such a policy is likely to prove expensive?"
"You'll have to show that."
"I think we will. But I can't believe that you repudiate this contract," said Larry, tapping a paper with his forefinger.