Mr. Colbrith was in despair.  A good many of his investments were palpably bad; and they could be recouped only by the backing of the combination.  And the combination obstinately refused to combine unless the Little Alicia could be gathered in.  At the end of the ends Mr. Colbrith appealed to his nephew.

“You know where Ford is,” he began accusingly.  “You needn’t deny it.  I was in hopes we wouldn’t have to ask him to sell us more than one share of his stock, which he couldn’t decently refuse to do if we let him set his own price.  But since we can’t trace that block that Grigsby let go, we must have nearly all of Ford’s.  Find him:  get his stock if you have to pay twice par for it.  If you don’t, I—­I shall be the heaviest loser in this camp, Charles Edward.”  It was gall and wormwood to the old man, but it had to be swallowed.

“So you are coming around to ask a favor of Ford?” said the young man unfeelingly.  “He won’t help you out.  You mustn’t forget that you kicked him out of the family; or rather you kicked him to prevent his getting into it.”

“But think of the profit to him!” protested the president.  “He paid only twenty cents for his half of the Alicia; he told me so himself.  At two hundred he’d clear ninety thousand; a magnificent amount for so young a man!”

“Ford doesn’t care anything about money.  You can’t move him that way.”

“Well, then, find him for me and I’ll—­I’ll apologize,” said Mr. Colbrith, pressed now to the last extremity.

“He doesn’t want your apologies, Uncle Sidney.  Your little tiff was between man and man, and he’d never think of holding you accountable for anything you were foolish enough to say.”

“Then what in heaven’s name does he want?”—­irascibly.

“Oh, a lot of things:  reinstatement; your order to investigate the Denver management; a chance to build his railroad unmolested; and, as a side issue, a chance to whitewash your administration of Pacific Southwestern by conducting the house-cleaning in your name—­this last because he thinks something of the family honor.  He doesn’t have to consider us, you know.  At the next annual meeting he can elect Brewster president over your head:  then you will have to stand for all the grafting and deviltry that will be unearthed.”

The ground for this duel between President Colbrith and the determined young pace-setter was the lobby of the tar-paper-covered hotel, cleared now of the impromptu mining-stock exchange, which had moved into permanent quarters.  The old man rose stiffly and stood grasping the chair-back.

“The same reckless charges against Mr. North and his subordinates—­and now you are making them!” he rasped.  “They are groundless; groundless, I tell you!”

Adair looked at his watch, listened a moment as for some expected sound from out-of-doors, and motioned toward the vacated chair.