An hour later, having bathed and changed his linen, he was whizzing toward lower Broadway, with the roar of the Subway in his ears.  New York looked very good to O’Neil, for this time he came not as a suppliant, but as a conqueror, and a deep contentment rested in his heart.  More than once during the last two years he had made this flying trip across an ocean and a continent, but heretofore he had been burdened with worries and responsibilities.  Always he had needed to gather his wits for some supreme effort; always there had been the urgent necessity of raising money.  As the S. R. & N. had grown his obligations had increased; and, while he had never returned empty-handed, no one but he knew at what cost of time and strength he had succeeded in financing his venture.  Invariably he had left New York mentally and physically exhausted, and his days in the open had barely served to replenish his store of nervous energy for the next campaign.

As he looked back upon it all he was amazed at his daring in attempting to finance a railroad out of his own pocket.  But he had won, and the Trust had met with a sharp reverse in attempting to beat him at his own game.  He held the winning card, and he looked out upon the world through eyes which were strained and weary, but complacent.

Mr. Herman Heidlemann was expecting him.

“You have the most confident way of arranging appointments from the other side of the world,” he began, as O’Neil entered his office.  “Steamships and railroads appear to be your obedient servants.”

“Not always.  I find railroads very troublesome at times.”

“Well, you’re on time to the minute,” said Heidlemann.  “Now tell me about Kyak.  Trevor cables that you were there during the storm which ruined us.”  The head of the copper syndicate did not look like a man facing ruin; in fact, he seemed more curious to hear of the physical phenomena of that hurricane than of its effect upon his fortunes.

“Kyak was a great mistake,” he admitted, when O’Neil had given him the particulars he asked for.  “We’re all agreed on that point.  Some of our associates feel that the whole Alaskan enterprise has been a mistake—­mines and all.”

“Your mines are as good as they ever were, but Kyak is a long way from Wall Street, and you relied too much upon other people’s judgment.”

“We have to rely upon our experts.”

“Of course.  But that country must have a railroad.”

“Must?” Heidlemann lifted his brows.  “It has done very well without one so far.  Our friends call us crazy for trying to build one, and our enemies call us thieves.”

“You can’t afford to give up.”

“No.  There’s an element of pride in the matter, and I really believe the country does need transportation.”

“You can’t understand how badly it needs it.”

“Yet it’s a heavy load to carry,” said Heidlemann, with conviction, “for a road will lose money for many years.  We were willing to wait until the agriculture and the mining developed, even though the profit came only to our children; but—­we have been misunderstood, abused by the press and the public.  Even Congress is down on us.  However, I suppose you came to tell me once more that Omar is the gateway and that we need it.”