He nodded encouragement to Jowett to go on.
"It's because Marchand hates you, Chief. The bump he got when you
dropped him on the ground that day at Carillon hurts still. It's a
chronic inflammation. Closing them railway offices at Manitou, and
dislodging the officials give him his first good chance. The feud
between the towns is worse now than it's ever been. Make no mistake.
There's a whole lot of toughs in Manitou. Then there's religion, and
there's race, and there's a want-to-stand-still and leave-me-alone-
feeling. They don't want to get on. They don't want progress. They
want to throw the slops out of the top windows into the street; they want
their cesspools at the front door; they think that everybody's got to
have smallpox some time or another, and the sooner they have it the
better; they want to be bribed; and they think that if a vote's worth
having it's worth paying for--and yet there's a bridge between these two
towns! A bridge--why, they're as far apart as the Yukon and Patagonia."
"What'd buy Felix Marchand?" Ingolby asked meditatively. "What's his
price?"
Jowett shifted with impatience. "Say, Chief, I don't know what you're
thinking about.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25