“Certainly,” replied David.

“Of course, I’m not a practical railroad man,” said the Doctor, as he folded the paper and slipped it in his memorandum book, “but I don’t see why the N. M. & Q. shouldn’t have the asbestos tonnage. Do you?”

“No, I don’t;—that is, if the directors are made alive to the fact that the stockholders know what they want and intend to have it.”

“That’s it. I won’t promise anything, but you might drop a line to your partner and tell him to sit tight till he hears from you. Now you’ve had enough business for a month. Take a drive this evening and keep away from downtown till you hear from me. I’m going to produce this paper at the next meeting and get my name in print as a practical railroad man, which isn’t so, but I’m not averse to a little advertising.”

“I didn’t know men of your—your profession did that kind of advertising,” said David.

“My son, if you knew some of the stunts physicians do to keep themselves before the public, you’d—well, you might smile and then again, you might not.”

Dr. Leighton drew on his gloves, settled his coat-collar with a shrug of his corpulent shoulders, and departed.

CHAPTER XIX—PIRACY

Not until nearing the middle of September did the intense heat wavering over the hoof-marked asphalt of the streets give way to the refreshing coolness of the light breezes that preceded the infrequent and gentle rains of early autumn.

David chafed at his monotonous routine of morning walks, afternoon drives, and “Evening Transcripts.” The tang of the air, coming briskly round a corner, set his pulses throbbing with a desire “to pack his kit and trek,” anywhere, so long as it would take him away from the tunnel-like walls of brick and brownstone and the geometrical accuracy of grass-plot, curb, and sidewalk. At times this desire to flee from the questionable “advantages” of civilization to the unquestionable sanity and freedom of the forest became unendurable, especially when October’s crisp, invigorating mornings wakened him to gaze across the clustered chimney-pots to where the river rippled, bronze-cold, in the early sun.