d be dragged. It doesn't give you a
straight flush; but your hand will beat North's if it comes to a
show-down between you. Just the same, I shouldn't quarrel with North, if
I were you. Uncle Sidney thinks the sun rises and sets in him."

Ford nodded, and while he was reading hastily through the sheaf of
pencilings a boy brought him a telegram. When he opened the envelope,
Kenneth had turned away. But Adair was looking on, and he did not fail
to remark the startling effect of the few typewritten words upon the
engineer.

"Whereabouts does it hit us this time?" he inquired, lighting a fresh
cigarette.

"In the neck," said Ford curtly. "The possibility occurred to me
yesterday--Pacific Southwestern stock being so badly scattered among
small holders. I wired a broker, a good friend of mine, to pick up a few
shares on my account. Here is what he says: 'Market bone dry. No
offerings of P. S-W. at any price.'"

Adair whistled softly. "That's getting next to us with a vengeance!" he
commented. "And it can be done, too. Half a dozen of the small
stock-holders have been to me since the fire was lighted, trying to get
me to take their stock at market."

"How much do we control--that we are sure of?" Ford asked.

"I don't know--in figures. Not more than two-fifths, I should say. At
the last board meeting I proposed that we make a safe majority pool
among ourselves, but Uncle Sidney sat on me. Said his own personal
constituency among the little people was big enough amply to secure us."

Ford swore pathetically.

"The one single instance when his caution might have steered him
straight--and it went to sleep!" he raged.

"Exactly," laughed Adair. "And now the Transcontinental moguls are
buying up a majority of their own, meaning to capture the main-line dog
and leaving us to wag the extension tail which we have just acquired.
Say, Ford; doesn't that appeal to your sense of humor?"

"No, it doesn't," said Ford savagely. To see one's air-castles crumbling
at the very moment when they were to be transmuted into solid realities
is apt to provoke a reversion to type; and Ford's type was Gothic.

"That's a pity," said Adair, absently rolling his cigarette between his
thumb and finger. "Also, it's another pity that I am such a hopeless
quitter. I believe I could pull this thing out yet, if I could only get
up sufficient steam."

"For heaven's sake, tell me what you burn, and I'll furnish the fuel,"
said Ford desperately.