the speculator.

As he boarded the train he noticed that Clark's private car was at the
end, and inside saw Riggs, Wimperley and the rest. They were talking
very earnestly, oblivious to anything that went on outside. Manson,
watching them from under the brim of his hat, felt a surge of
satisfaction. He guessed the momentous news which brought them, and,
late that night, as the train plunged through the wilderness, lay awake
in his berth thinking of many things, while the occupants of the
private car talked till they were weary and leaden-eyed of that which
they must do at St. Marys. They were caught up, all of them, in
something greater than they. Forces had been set in motion by the
amazing brain of Clark which they might modulate, but could not, in any
way, entirely control. The moving finger was writing, and they could,
like him, only follow its mysterious command.

The private car swung along over the clicking rail joints and the
directors glanced without interest at the country they traversed. The
latter part of their journey was through a wilderness, wild and
unpromising. At Sudbury they saw evidence of what science and energy
could do in what was not long ago unbroken forest, and what wealth lay
beneath the tangled roots of spruce and tamarac, but the scene did not
impress them. It was a single undertaking with a single object and
vitally different from their own ramified efforts, and the desolation
of the country in which it flourished only accentuated their own
misgivings. They were tired before the train drew in to St. Marys and
decided to discuss nothing that evening. At the works station Clark
met them. He was cheerful and debonair.

"Hullo, Wimperley, glad to see you. Had a good trip? You and
Stoughton are coming to the blockhouse with me. The others are at the
hotel. Sorry I can't put you all up."

Birch put down his bag and held out a clammy hand. "What about it?"
He shot a quick glance at Wimperley.

The president of the Consolidated shook his head. "No, no, we're not
going to put you out, and besides I can't trust these fellows alone.
We'll all go to the hotel. See you first thing in the morning. Matter
of fact, Birch talked business all the time and we're dog tired."

Clark's lips pressed a shade tighter, then his eyes twinkled. Riggs,
observing him closely, wondered whether he had interpreted the
expression which all four were stolidly endeavoring to mask. But so
cheerful