“Phone him and tell him I’m here,” said Blount; and in due time the lumber magnate made his appearance.

It was not at all in keeping with Mr. Simon Peter Hathaway’s gifts and adroitness that he should begin by attempting a clumsy bit of acting.

“Well, I’ll be shot!” he exclaimed.  “So you’re the senator’s son, are you?  If I’d known that, that day on the train when you were trying to make me believe you were one of Uncle Sam’s men—­”

Blount’s smile was neither forgiving nor hostile.

“In a way, I had earned what was handed out to me afterward, Mr. Hathaway, and I’m not bearing malice,” he said briefly.  “I had no business to let you get away with the wrong impression, but you were so exceedingly anxious to identify me with the Forest Service that it seemed a pity to disappoint you.  Since your scoundrels didn’t kill me, we’ll set one incident against the other and forget both.  What can I do for you to-day?”

By this time the lumber lord was apparently recovering his breath and some measure of composure, though he had lost neither.

“Great Jehu!” he lamented.  “If you had given me half a hint that you were Dave Blount’s son—­but you didn’t, you know, and now I’m handicapped just when I oughtn’t to be.  I’ve come to talk business with you to-day, Mr. Blount, and here you’ve got me on the run the first crack out of the box!”

This time Blount’s smile was entirely conciliatory.

“Don’t let that little misfire in the Lost Mountain foot-hills embarrass you, Mr. Hathaway.  I assure you I’m not at all vindictive.”

“All right,” said the visitor, only too willing to dismiss the Jack Barto incident and the forced awkwardness of the pretended surprise.  “That being the case, I’ll jump in on the other matter.  But first I’d like to ask a sort of personal question:  I’ve been given to understand that you are handling the political business for the railroad company in this campaign.  Is that right?”

“It is and it isn’t,” was the prompt reply.  “The railroad company isn’t in politics in this campaign—­as a political factor, I mean.  What we are trying to do—­and all we are trying to do—­is to lay the entire matter plainly and fairly before the people of this State, with a frank appeal for the relief to which we are entitled.”

“Ha—­h’m—­I guess I get you, Mr. Blount.  That’s the way to talk it; in public, anyway.  But, just between us two—­I guess we needn’t beat the bushes in a little personal talk like this—­we both know there are certain things that have to be done in every campaign; things you wouldn’t want to publish in the newspapers.”

Blount sat back in his chair and the conciliatory smile disappeared.

“What kind of things?” he asked abruptly.

“Oh, of course, I don’t know all of ’em.  But there was one little arrangement that was made two years ago with us, and it helped out both ways.  I thought I’d come around and see if it couldn’t be worked again.”