he cried out of his bitterness of spirit, "but I'd ruther
be Valentine Simmons!"

"Have you got the options?" Entriken demanded
-- "all them that Pompey had and you bought?"

Gordon vanished into the house, and reappeared
with the original contracts in his grasp.

"Here they are," he exclaimed; "I paid eighty-nine
thousand dollars to get them, and they're worth
-- that," he flung them with a quick gesture into the
air, and the rising wind scattered them fluttering
over the sere grass. "Scrabble for them in the dirt."

"You c'n throw them away now the railroad's left
you."

"And before," Gordon Makimmon demanded,
"do you think I couldn't have gutted you if I'd had
a mind to?, do you think anybody couldn't gut you?
Why, you've been the mutton of every little storekeeper
that let you off with a pound of coffee, of any
note shaver that could write. The _Bugle_ says I let
out money to cover up the railway deal, but that'd be
no better than giving it to stop the sight of the blind.
God A'mighty!, this transportation business you're
only whining about now was laid out five years ago,
the company's agents have driven in and out twenty
times..."

"Let him have it!"

"Spite yourselves!" Gordon Makimmon cried;
"it's all that's left for you."

[[346]]

p345 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p346w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p347

v?