They both laughed. It was seldom he talked like this, and never had he talked to such a listener before. “The merging of the three railways was a good scheme, and I was the schemer,” he continued. “It might mean monopoly, but it won’t work out that way. It will simply concentrate energy and: save elbow-grease. It will set free capital and capacity for other things.”
“They say there will be fewer men at work, not only in the offices but on the whole railway system, and they don’t like that in Manitou—ah, no, they don’t!” she urged.
“They’re right in a sense,” he answered. “But the men will be employed at other things, which won’t represent waste and capital overlapping. Overlapping capital hits everybody in the end. But who says all that? Who raises the cry of ‘wolf’ in Manitou?”
“A good many people say it now,” she answered, “but I think Felix Marchand said it first. He is against you, and he is dangerous.”
He shrugged a shoulder. “Oh, if any fool said it, it would be the same!” he answered. “That’s a fire easily lighted; though it sometimes burns long and hard.” He frowned, and a fighting look came into his face.
“Then you know all that is working against you in Manitou—working harder than ever before?”
“I think I do, but I probably don’t know all. Have you any special news about it?”
“Felix Marchand is spending money among the men. They are going on strike on your railways and in the mills.”
“What mills—in Manitou?” he asked abruptly. “In both towns.”
He laughed harshly. “That’s a tall order,” he said sharply. “Both towns—I don’t think so, not yet.”