horns. The great struggle had begun to invest the combatants with
interest. Daily, almost hourly, Dyke was in touch with the ranchers,
the wheat-growers. He heard their denunciations, their growls of
exasperation and defiance. Here was the other side--this placid, fat
man, with a stiff straw hat and linen vest, who never lost his
temper, who smiled affably upon his enemies, giving them good advice,
commiserating with them in one defeat after another, never ruffled,
never excited, sure of his power, conscious that back of him was the
Machine, the colossal force, the inexhaustible coffers of a mighty
organisation, vomiting millions to the League's thousands.

The League was clamorous, ubiquitous, its objects known to every urchin
on the streets, but the Trust was silent, its ways inscrutable, the
public saw only results. It worked on in the dark, calm, disciplined,
irresistible. Abruptly Dyke received the impression of the multitudinous
ramifications of the colossus. Under his feet the ground seemed mined;
down there below him in the dark the huge tentacles went silently
twisting and advancing, spreading out in every direction, sapping the
strength of all opposition, quiet, gradual, biding the time to reach up
and out and grip with a sudden unleashing of gigantic strength.

"I'll be wanting some cars of you people before the summer is out,"
observed Dyke to the clerk as he folded up and put away the order that
the other had handed him. He remembered perfectly well that he had
arranged the matter of transporting his crop some months before, but
his role of proprietor amused him and he liked to busy himself again and
again with the details of his undertaking.

"I suppose," he added, "you'll be able to give 'em to me. There'll be
a big wheat crop to move this year and I don't want to be caught in any
car famine."

"Oh, you'll get your cars," murmured the other.

"I'll be the means of bringing business your way," Dyke went on; "I've
done so well with my hops that there are a lot of others going into
the business next season. Suppose," he continued, struck with an
idea, "suppose we went into some sort of pool, a sort of shippers'
organisation, could you give us special rates, cheaper rates--say a cent
and a half?"

The other looked up.

"A cent and a half! Say FOUR cents and a half and maybe I'll talk
business with you."

"Four cents and a half," returned Dyke, "I don't see it. Why, the
regular rate is only two cents