"We should not be expected to supply them," Truett explained. "The road which ours will feed will be glad to supply them, as all roads do for short spurs on which anything is to be handled. It would be idiotic to buy rolling stock for a road which at first won't have enough business to justify one train a day. When there's anything to do, the old company will send down a short train from the nearest siding; the run wouldn't require fifteen minutes. You Eastern people who are accustomed to a thickly populated country, with many through trains daily, don't know anything about the business methods of the sparsely settled portions of the West, especially on spurs of a railway line."
"He's right about rolling stock," said Caleb. "Ten years ago the railroad company, over yonder, told Jethro an' a committee that went from here to see 'em that if we'd build the spur, they'd do the rest. But they stood out for a solid road-bed, as good as their own, an' for heavy steel rails, like their own, for they said their rollin' stock was very heavy, and they wa'n't goin' to take the risk of accidents. The price of the rails knocked us."
"Naturally," said Truett, "for steel rails were four or six times as costly then as they are now."
"You've made me too excited to eat," said Philip, leaving the table, "and I'm afraid that the trouble will continue until this road is moved from the air to the ground. The main offices of the old company are only about a hundred miles away; suppose, Truett, that you and the most truly representative merchant of Claybanks—I mean Caleb—run up there? I'll look after the men at work on the store. Tell the president, or whoever is in authority, that we think of building a spur at once from here to their main track, see what they'll do, and persuade them to say it in black and white. If they talk favorably, we'll hold a public meeting, and try to do something. Mrs. Wright, we owe you an apology. I assure you that business talk is not the rule at our breakfast table."
"I wish it were!" said Mary, who, with Grace, had listened excitedly until both women were radiant with enthusiasm. "I wish railways could be planned at breakfast every day—if my brother were to be the builder."
"Now, Mary," said Caleb, "perhaps you begin to understand the Western fever of which I've told you something from time to time."
"Understand it?" said Mary, dashing impulsively at her husband. "I already have it—madly! I'm willing to bid you good-by at once for your trip, though I haven't been married a week. My husband a possible railway director—and yours also, Grace! How do you feel?"
"Prouder than ever," Grace replied. "Just as you will feel, week by week, as the wife of a clever husband."
