"I like a fight, if only it's in the open."
"So do I!" exclaimed the President.
The conversation was desultory until the door opened, admitting the Secretary of State. He gave Enoch a glance and greeted the chief executive, then bowed formally to Enoch, and stood waiting.
"Sit down, Fowler! Try one of those cigars! They haven't killed
Huntingdon yet."
"I beg your pardon, Mr. President," stiffly, "it is quite impossible for me to make any pretense of friendship for the present Secretary of the Interior."
The President raised his eyebrows. "What's the trouble, Fowler?"
"You may have heard," Fowler's voice was sardonic, "that your Secretary of the Interior swung around the circle on a speech-making trip this fall!"
"I heard of it," replied the chief executive, "probably before you did, because I asked Mr. Huntingdon to make the trip."
"And may I ask, Mr. President, why you asked this gentleman to interfere with my prerogatives?"
"Come! Come, Fowler! You are too clever a man to attempt the hoity-toity manner with me! You undoubtedly read all of Huntingdon's speeches with care, and you observed that his entire plea was for the states to allow the Federal Government to proceed in its normal function of developing the water power and oil resources of this country; that a few American business men should not be permitted to hog the water power of the state for private gain, nor to embroil us in war with Mexico because of private oil holdings there. You will recall that whatever information he used, he procured himself and, before using, laid it in your hands. You laughed at it. You will recall that I asked you, a month before Huntingdon went out, if you would not swing round the circle, and you begged to be excused."