“Yes, I see,” Montague replied.
“Is there a trust company by any chance back of this railroad you are talking of?”
“There is,” said Montague; and the Major shrugged his shoulders.
“There you have it,” he said. “By and by they will find their first bond issue inadequate to meet the cost of the proposed improvements. The estimates of the engineers will be found too low, and there will be another issue of bonds, and your president's company will get another contract. And then the first thing you know, your president will organise a manufacturing enterprise along the line of his road, and the road will give him secret rebates, and practically carry his goods free; or else he'll organise a private-car line, and make the road pay for the privilege of hauling his cars. Or perhaps he's already got some industrial concern, and is simply building the road as a side issue.”
The Major stopped. He saw that Montague was staring at him with an expression of perplexity.
“What's the matter?” he asked.
“Good heavens, Major!” exclaimed the other. “Do you know what road I've been talking about?”
And the Major sank back in his chair and went into a fit of laughter. He laughed until he was purple in the face, and he could hardly find breath to speak.
“I really thought you did!” Montague protested. “It's exactly the situation.”
“Oh, dear me!” said the Major, fishing for his pocket handkerchief to wipe the tears from his eyes. “Dear me! It makes me think of our district attorney's lemon story. Did you ever hear it?”