“And the deal was as good as made. But before the vote was taken another chap came to the great man and said: 'Look here! I want to get an appropriation of, say, fifty thousand dollars, to deepen and improve a river down in my State'—a Southern State we'll say. 'I've been to the chairman of the pork bill committee, and he says it's impossible. The bill simply can't be loaded any further. But I find that you have an item in there for deepening and improving a harbor back in your own district. Why don't you cut that item out—shove it over until next year? You can easily find a satisfactory explanation for your constituents. AND you want to remember this: the improvement of this river means that the—the—well, a certain sugar-growing company—can get their stuff to market at a figure which will send its stock up and up. And you are said to own a considerable amount of that stock. So why not drop the harbor item and substitute my river slice? Then—' Well, I guess that's the end of the tale.”
He paused and relit his cigar. Captain Cy thoughtfully marked with his fork on the tablecloth.
“Hum!” he grunted. “That's a very interestin' yarn. Yes, yes! don't know's I ever heard a more interestin' one. I presume likely there ain't a mite of proof that it's true?”
“Not an atom. I told you it was a fairy tale. And I mustn't be quoted in the matter. Honestly, the most of it is guess work, at that. But perhaps a 'committee of one,' dropping a hint at home, might at least arouse some uncomfortable questioning of a certain great man. That's about all, though. Proof is quite another thing.”
The captain pondered. He was fully aware that the unpopularity of the “committee” would nullify whatever good its hinting might do.
“Humph!” he grunted again. “It's one thing to smell a rat and another to nail its tail to the floor. But I'm mighty obliged to you, all the same. And I'll think it over hard. Say! I can see one thing—you don't take a very big shine to Heman yourself.”
“Not too big—no. Do you?”
“Well, I don't wake up nights and cry for him.”
Everdean laughed.
“That's characteristic,” he said. “You have your own way of putting things, Captain, and it's hard to be improved on. Atkins has never done anything to me. I just—I just don't like him, that's all. Father never liked him, either, in the old days; and yet—and it's odd, too—he was the means of the old gentleman's making the most of his money.”