"As far as the Hendrickton and Pas Alos Railroad Company goes, a two mile a minute gait not alone on a level track but through the Pas Alos Range is an immediate necessity. It's got to be done now, or our stock will be selling on the curb for about two cents a share." "You do not mean just that, do you, Mr. Bartholomew?" asked Tom Swift earnestly, and staring at the big-little man before the fire.
So Robin locked her precious "pretend" away in her heart not to be forgotten, but to be enjoyed, as a big-little girl enjoys taking out childish toys or dolls or fancies, dusting them carefully, caressing them tenderly, putting them back reverently and feeling tremendously grown-up! A silvery, shimmery young moon shone down upon two heads close together at a wide-open window.
Mr. Richard Bartholomew was just that a "big-little man." In the railroad world, both in construction and management, he had made an enviable name for himself. He had actually built up the Hendrickton and Pas Alos from a narrow-gauge, "jerkwater" road into a part of a great cross-continent system that tapped a wonderfully rich territory on both sides of the Pas Alos Range.
In stature Van Dyck was short, but of a very compact build. He carried the crown of his head high, his chin in, and his chest out. His name is another added to that list of big-little men who had personality plus, and whose presence filled a room. Cæsar, Napoleon, Lord Macaulay, Aaron Burr and that other little man with whom Burr's name is inseparably linked, belong to the same type.
Uncle Wiggily ran here, and there, and everywhere, and he jumped and leaped about so that the giant's little boy couldn't catch him, for the big-little fellow wasn't very spry on his feet. "Oh, I guess we had better not play that game any more," said the boy giant, as he accidentally nearly stepped on Uncle Wiggily's left ear. "I might hurt you. Let's play hide-and-go-seek."
These little men with such dynamic force that they can do the thinking for a race are those who have swerved the old world out of her ruts whether for good or ill is not the question here. When you find one of these big-little men, if he does not stalk through society a conquering Don Juan it is because we still live in an age of miracles.