It was at about this time that the sanguinary affray at Beaver Canon began to bear fruit.  One day a keen-faced, quiet stranger presented a card at Murray’s office, with the name: 

Henry T. Blaine.

Beneath was the address of the Heidlemann building in New York, but otherwise the card told nothing.  Something in Mr. Blaine’s bearing, however, led Murray to treat him with more than ordinary consideration.

“I should like to go over your work,” the stranger announced; and O’Neil himself acted as guide.  Together they inspected the huge concrete abutments, then were lowered into the heart of the giant caissons which protruded from the frozen stream.  The Salmon lay locked in its winter slumber now, the glaciers stood as silent and inactive as the snow-mantled mountains that hemmed them in.  Down into the very bowels of the river the men descended, while O’Neil described the nature of the bottom, the depth and character of his foundations, and the measure of his progress.  He explained the character of that bar which lay above the bridge site, and pointed out the heavy layers of railroad iron with which his cement work was reinforced.

“I spent nearly two seasons studying this spot before I began the bridge,” he continued.  “I had men here, night and day, observing the currents and the action of the ice.  Then I laid my piers accordingly.  They are armored and reinforced to withstand any shock.”

“The river is subject to quick rises, I believe?” suggested Blaine.

“Twenty feet in a few hours.”

“The volley of ice must be almost irresistible.”

“Almost,” Murray smiled.  “Not quite.  Our ice-breakers were especially designed by Parker to withstand any weight.  There’s nothing like them anywhere.  In fact, there will be nothing like this bridge when it’s completed.”  Blaine offered no comment, but his questions searched to the depths of the builder’s knowledge.  When they were back in camp he said: 

“Of course you know why I’m here?”

“Your card told me that, but I don’t need the Heidlemanns now.”

“We are prepared to reopen negotiations.”

“Why?”

“My people are human; they have feelings.  You read Gordon’s lies about us and about that fight at Beaver Canon?  Well, we’re used to abuse, and opposition of a kind we respect; but that man stirred public opinion to such a point that there’s no further use of heeding it.  We’re ready to proceed with our plans now, and the public can go to the devil till it understands us better.  We have several men in jail at Cortez, charged with murder:  it will cost us a fortune to free the poor fellows.  First the Heidlemanns were thieves and grafters and looters of the public domain; now they have become assassins!  If this route to the interior proves feasible, well and good; if not, we’ll resume work at Cortez next spring.  Kyak, of course, is out of the question.”