"Suppose you tell it to my secretary now," insists Old Hickory, glarin' menacin' at him.
"Do so, Bixby," says Marcus T.
"Why—er—you see," says Bixby, turnin' to me, "as I understand the case, the only outlet you have to deep water is over our tracks to—— "
"What about them docks at Three Harbors?" I cuts in.
"Three Harbors?" repeats Bixby, starin' vague.
"Precisely," says Marcus T. "As the young man suggests, there is plenty of unemployed dockage at that point. But your ore tracks do not connect with that port."
"They would if we laid forty miles of rails, branchin' off at Tamarack Junction, " says I. "That spur has all been surveyed and the right of way cleared."
"Ah!" exclaims Bixby, comin' to life again. "I remember now. Tamarack Junction. We hold a charter for a railroad from there to Three Harbors."
"You mean you did hold it," says I.
"I beg pardon?" says Bixby, gawpin'.