“Very well, then; I want to name three of the charter members of your board and the conditions under which that body shall begin its work.”
“I think I can promise that.”
“Well, talk it over with your associates, and let me have your answer in black and white as soon as possible,” said the gentleman.
The answer came next day and was all that we desired, and McCarthy began a piece of work which deserves to be lifted out of the limbo of forgotten things, for it was the first big battle with Satan at the State capital. He saw the leading men in both branches of the legislature. He showed them the plans of the great bridge, and explained its purpose and made its value clear. They agreed with him. There seemed to be nothing in our way. But suddenly there came a change: the air was charged with opposition, and we knew that Joe and Sam and Ed and Jim, and other birds of their feather, had been at work.
“All right,” said the gentleman; “we're in no hurry. They'll get hungry, and come to see us one of these days.”
We had not long to wait. One evening, within a week, who should call at our room in the Delevan but Joe—the handsome, smiling, good-natured, witty captain of our enemies. He was in full dress, and his white hair and imperial were not the least of his assets.
“Thane of Glamis and Cawdor,” said he, with a smile and a polite bow, “you are soon to be king, and we must all know you!”
“I had not suspected that you were a weird sister,” said McCarthy.
“I am weird as the devil, but harmless,” our caller laughed, as he took the chair that my friend offered. “Could I see you alone for five minutes?”
“Certainly, if you wish,” said McCarthy. “But first I want to talk with you about that bridge project of mine. I'd thought of you in connection with the board of management. Perhaps you'd like to be a charter member.”