“President in?” asked Scattergood.

The boy looked at him severely, and replied, shortly, that the president was busy.

“Havin’ only five hours to do all his work,” said Scattergood, “I calc’lated he would be some took up.  Tell him Scattergood Baines wants to have a talk to him, sonny.”

“Have an appointment?”

“No, sonny,” said Scattergood, “but if you don’t scamper into his room fairly spry, the seat of your pants is goin’ to have an appointment with my hand.”  He leaned over the railing as he said it, and the boy, regarding Scattergood’s face a moment, arose and whisked into the next room.

Shortly there appeared a youngish man, constructed by nature to adorn wearing apparel.

“Be you Mr. Castle?” asked Scattergood.

“I’m his secretary.  What do you want?”

“Young man, I’m disapp’inted.  When I see you I figgered you must be president of the railroad or the Queen of Sheeby.  I want to see Mr. Castle.”

“What is your business with him?”

“’Tain’t fit for young ears to listen to,” said Scattergood.

“If you have any business with Mr. Castle, state it to me.”

“Um!...  I come quite consid’able of a distance to see him—­which I calc’late to do.”  He reached over, with astonishing suddenness in one so bulky, and twirled the secretary about with his ham of a hand.  At the same time he leaned against the gate, which was not fastened to restrain such a weight.  “Now, forrard march, young feller.  Lead the way.  I’m follerin’ you.”  And thus Scattergood entered the presence.

He saw behind a huge, flat desk a very thin man, who leaned forward, clutching his temples as though to restrain within bounds the machinery of the brain inside.  It was President Castle’s habitual posture when working.  The temples and dome of the head seemed to bulge, as if there was too much inside for the strength of the restraining walls.  The president looked up and fastened eyes that themselves bulged from hollowed sockets.  It was the face of a man who ran his mental dynamo at top speed in defiance of nature’s laws against speeding.

“Well?” he snapped. “Well—­well?”

“Name’s Scattergood Baines.  Figger to build a railroad.  Want to see you about it,” said Scattergood, succinctly.

“Not interested.  Busy.  Get out,” said Castle.

Scattergood dropped the secretary, and lumbered up to the president’s desk.  He leaned over it heavily.  “I’ve come to see you about this here thing,” he said, quietly.  “Either you’ll talk to me about it now, or I’ll have to sort of arrange so that you’ll come to me, askin’ to talk about it, later.  Now you kin save both our time.”

Castle regarded Scattergood with eyes that seemed to burn with unnatural nervous energy—­it was a brief scrutiny.  “Clear out,” he said to his secretary.  “Sit down,” to Scattergood.