“Ah! it is of San Diego that you wish to speak to me? Then, truly, I fear I can do nothing for you,” the Governor said.
“But you can hear what we wish to say to you,” Mr. Holman interposed, with a sickly effort at smiling.
“Certainly. But really, gentlemen, you must excuse me for saying that I am very busy to-day, and can only give you a half hour.”
They all bowed.
Mr. Mechlin and Don Mariano looked at Mr. Holman, as it was understood that he would be spokesman. But Mr. Holman's heart was leaping with the indignation of a lion, and then shrinking with the discouragement of a mouse into such small contractions—all of which he in no way must reveal—that for a minute he could not speak.
“I suppose the San Diego people wish me to build them a railroad, isn't that it?” said the man of power, slowly arranging some papers on his desk.
“Or to let some one else build it,” said Mr. Holman.
The Governor colored slightly, in evident vexation.
“Tom Scott, for instance,” said he, sneeringly. “Take my advice, gentlemen, and don't you pin your faith on Tom Scott. He'll build no Texas Pacific, I assure you.”
“Then why don't you build it?” asked Mr. Mechlin.