Tom and Harry mounted to the platform of the car, following Mr. Ellsworth down the carpeted aisle of a very comfortable private Pullman car. The general manager pointed to seats, threw himself into another, and then said:
“Now, tell me all about the row that you've started with the town.”
Harry's lips closed tightly, but Tom launched at once into a plain, truthful account of the affair, bringing it down to the noonday meal of the present day.
“It's not clear to me just why you should feel called upon to interfere so forcefully,” said the general manager, a little fretfully. “The workmen are all twenty-one years of age and upwards. Couldn't they protect themselves if they wanted protection?”
“Yes, sir, certainly,” Tom admitted. “However, letting that fellow Duff put up his tents right on the railroad property would almost make it look as though the road shared, or at least approved, his enterprise.”
“Oh, doubtless you were right to order the fellow off the railroad property,” assented Mr. Ellsworth. “But why did you go to such trouble to get the men to start new bank accounts and thus send most of their money out of town?”
“May I answer that question, sir, by asking another?” asked Reade respectfully. “Did you wish the men to spend it in Paloma?”
“I don't care a hang what they do with it,” retorted the general manager half peevishly. “It's their own money.”
“It was you, Mr. Ellsworth, whom I wired yesterday morning, asking that you send down a representative of a savings bank who could open accounts with such of the men as desired.”
“Yes, and I sent you a couple of bank men. I didn't have any idea, however, that you'd get the whole town of Paloma by the ears.”