The Latisans had "gone bump"; the word went up and down the Tomah.
"Well, go ahead and say it!" suggested Rufus Craig when he had set himself in the path of Ward Latisan, who was coming away from a last, and profitless, interview with the obstinate heir.
Craig calculatingly chose the moment for this meeting, desiring to carry on with the policy which he had adopted. By his system the Comas had maneuvered after the python method--it crushed, it smeared, it swallowed.
The Latisans had been crushed--Craig quieted his conscience with the arguments of business necessity; he had a big salary to safeguard; he had promised boldly to deliver the goods in the north country. Though his conscience was dormant, his fears were awake. He was not relishing Latisan's manner. The repression worried him. The grandson had plenty of old John in his nature, and Craig knew it!
"Latisan, I'll give you a position with the Comas, and a good one."
"That you'll turn over your operating equipment to us at a fair price and sign a ten-year contract."
"I knew you'd name those conditions. I refuse."
"You're making a fool of yourself--and what for?"
"For a principle! I've explained it to you."
"And I've explained how our consolidated plan butts against your old-fashioned principle. Do you think for one minute you can stop the Comas development?"
"I'm still with the independents. We'll see what can be done."
"There's still good fighting ground over in the Noda Valley--and some fighters are left there."
Craig squinted irefully at the presumptuous rebel.
Latisan hid much behind a smile. "You see, Mr. Craig, I'm just as frank as I was when I said I was going to New York. You may find me in the Noda when you get there with your consolidation plans."
"Perhaps! I'll hunt around and see what I can find in the way of a sling and pebble."
A summons sent forth by Echford Flagg, the last of the giants among the independent operators on the Noda waters, had made that day in early April a sort of gala affair in the village of Adonia.
Men by the hundred were crowded into the one street, which stretched along the river bank in front of the tavern and the stores. The narrow-gauge train from downcountry had brought many. Others had come from the woods in sledges; there was still plenty of snow in the woods; but in the village the runner irons squalled over the bare spots. Men came trudging from the mouths of trails and tote roads, their duffel in meal bags slung from their shoulders.