So far the two had never seriously clashed, but sooner or later the capitalist must learn the truth; and when he did, when that iron-jawed, iron-willed autocrat once discovered that this youth whom he had taken into his home with so little thought of possible harm had actually dared to oppose him, his indignation would pass all bounds.
And then, for the first time, Emerson realized the impropriety of his own present position. He was here under false pretences; they had bared to him secrets not rightly his, with which he might arm himself. When this, too, became known to the financier, he would regard him not only as a presumptuous enemy, but as a traitor. Boyd knew the old tyrant too well to doubt his course of action; thenceforth there would be war to the hilt.
The enterprise which an hour ago had seemed so certain of success, the enterprise which he had fathered at such cost of labor and suffering, now seemed entirely hopeless. The futility of trying to oppose these men, equipped as they were with limitless means and experience, struck him with such force as to make him almost physically faint and sick. Even had his canning plant been open and running, he knew that they would never take him in; Wayne Wayland's consistent attitude toward him showed that plainly enough. And with nothing more tangible to offer than a half-born dream, they would laugh him to scorn. Furthermore, they had proclaimed their determination to choke all rivalry.
A sort of panic seized Boyd. If his present scheme fell through, what else could he do? Whither could he turn, even for his own livelihood, except back to the hateful isolation of a miner's life? That would mean other years as black as those just ended. There had been a time when he could boldly have taken the bit in his teeth and forced Mr. Wayland to reckon with him, but since his return Mildred herself had withdrawn her consent to a marriage that would mean immediate separation from the life that she loved. That course, therefore, was closed to him. If ever he was to win her, he must play this game of desperate chances to the end.
The announcement of dinner interrupted his dismayed reflections, and he walked out in company with Mr. Wayland, who linked arms with him as if to afford Willis Marsh every advantage, fleeting though it might prove.
"He is a wonderful fellow," the old gentleman observed, sotto voce, indicating Marsh—"one of the keenest business men I ever met."
"Yes?"
"Indeed, he is. He is a money-maker, too; his associates swear by him.
If I were you, my boy, I would study him; he is a good man to imitate."
At the dinner-table the talk at first was general, and of a character appropriate for the hour, but Miss Wayland, oddly enough, seemed bent upon leading the discussion back into its former course, and displayed such an unusual thirst for information regarding the North American Packers' Association that her father was moved to remark upon it.
"What in the world has come over you, Mildred?" he said. "You never cared to hear about my doings before."