"Probably it is all right," admitted the lawyer reluctantly, "but that isn't the whole story by any manner of means. If it's known that you're picking up the stock, every fellow that has any will soak you good and hard before he parts with it. Now, there are the bondholders—"
"Well, what can the bondholders do?" demanded Porter.
"Oh, get a receiver and have a lot of fun. You may expect that at any time, too. Those Eastern fellows are slow sometimes, but they generally know what they're about."
"Yes, but if they weren't Eastern fellows—"
"Oh, a bondholder's rights are as good one place as another. Those suits are usually brought in the name of the trustee in their behalf."
"Now, do you know what I'm going to do?" demanded Porter, settling back in his chair and placing his feet on Fenton's table. "I'm going to turn up at the next annual meeting and clean this thing out. You don't think it's any good; I've got faith in the company and in the town; I believe it's going to be a good thing. This little gang here that's been running it has got to go. I've dug up some stock here that everybody thought was lost. At the last meeting only eight hundred out of five thousand shares were voted."
Fenton frowned and continued to punish himself with the ruler.
"You beat me! You haven't the slightest idea who the other shareholders are; the company is thoroughly rotten in all its past history, and here you go plunging into it up to your eyes. And they say you're the most conservative banker on the river."
"I guess you don't have to get me out of many scrapes," said Porter, doggedly.
"When's the annual meeting?" asked Fenton, suddenly.