“Dalton, I was down last night to see that lease of Heyburn’s on the twelfth level of the Taurus. The Consolidated will tap our workings about noon to-day, just below us. I want you to turn on them the air-drill pipe as soon as they break through. Have a lot of loose rock there mixed with a barrel of lime. Let loose the air pressure full on the pile, and give it to their men straight. Follow them up to the end of their own tunnel when they retreat, and hold it against them. Get control of the levels above and below, too. Throw as many men as you can into their workings, and gut them till there is no ore left.”
Dalton had the fighting edge. “You’ll stand by me, no matter what happens?”
“Nothing will happen. They’re not expecting trouble. But if anything does, I’ll see you through. Eaton is your witness that I ordered it.”
“Then it’s as good as done, Mr. Ridgway,” said Dalton, turning away.
“There may be bloodshed,” suggested Eaton dubiously, in a low voice.
Ridgway’s laugh had a touch of affectionate contempt. “Don’t cross bridges till you get to them, Steve. Haven’t you discovered, man, that the bold course is always the safe one? It’s the quitter that loses out every time. The strong man gets there; the weak one falls down. It’s as invariable as the law of gravity.” He got up and stretched his broad shoulders in a deep breath. “Now for Mr. Harley. Send him in, Eaton.”
That morning Simon Harley had done two things for many years foreign to his experience: He had gone to meet another man instead of making the man come to him, and he had waited the other man’s pleasure in an outer office. That he had done so implied a strong motive.
Ridgway waved Harley to a chair without rising to meet him. The eyes of the two men fastened, wary and unwavering. They might have been jungle beasts of prey crouching for the attack, so tense was their attention. The man from Broadway was the first to speak.
“I have called, Mr. Ridgway, to arrange, if possible, a compromise. I need hardly say this is not my usual method, but the circumstances are extremely unusual. I rest under so great a personal obligation to you that I am willing to overlook a certain amount of youthful presumption.” His teeth glittered behind a lip smile, intended to give the right accent to the paternal reproof. “My personal obligation—”
“What obligation? I left you to die in the snow.’,