Hal's eyes came back to the Coal King's son, and he discovered that Percy was white with anger. “I assure you, Hal, there's no use going on with this. I have no intention of letting myself be bulldozed.”
Percy's gaze shifted with sudden purpose to the camp-marshal. “Cotton, what do you say about this? Is Mr. Warner correct in his idea of the situation?”
“You know what such a man would say, Percy!” broke in Hal.
“I don't,” was the reply. “I wish to know. What is it, Cotton?”
“He's mistaken, Mr. Harrigan.” The marshal's voice was sharp and defiant.
“In what way?”
“The company's doing everything to get the mine open, and has been from the beginning.”
“Oh!” And there was triumph in Percy's voice. “What is the cause of the delay?”
“The fan was broken, and we had to send for a new one. It's a job to set it up—such things can't be done in an hour.”
Percy turned to Hal. “You see! There are two opinions, at least!”