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Updated: June 22, 2025
"But well but," hazarded Broderson, "but there's the Interstate Commerce Commission. At least on long-haul rates they " "Hoh, yes, the Interstate Commerce Commission," shouted Annixter, scornfully, "that's great, ain't it? The greatest Punch and Judy; show on earth. It's almost as good as the Railroad Commission.
His heart went out to the people, and his groping hand met that of a slovenly little Dutchman, whom it was impossible to consider seriously. He searched for the True Romance, and, in the end, found grain rates and unjust freight tariffs. "But the stuff is HERE," he muttered, as he sent his wheel rumbling across the bridge over Broderson Creek. "The romance, the real romance, is here somewhere.
The envelope contained other sealed envelopes, some eight or ten of them, addressed to Magnus Derrick, Osterman, Broderson, Garnett, Keast, Gethings, Chattern, Dabney, and to Annixter himself. Still puzzled, Annixter distributed the envelopes, muttering to himself: "What's up now?" The incident had attracted attention.
Farther off to the west on the Osterman ranch other columns came and went, and, once, from the crest of the highest swell on his division, Vanamee caught a distant glimpse of the Broderson ranch. There, too, moving specks indicated that the ploughing was under way.
Would Magnus and Harran get down and have a drink? There was whiskey somewhere about. Magnus, however, declined. He stated his errand, asking Annixter to come over to Los Muertos that evening for seven o'clock dinner. Osterman and Broderson would be there.
His stomach revolted. It was all one with him. He was satisfied, contented. He was astonishing the people. "Once I swallowed a tree toad." he told old Broderson, "by mistake. I was eating grapes, and the beggar lived in me three weeks. In rainy weather he would sing. You don't believe that," he vociferated. "Haven't I got the toad at home now in a bottle of alcohol."
The doctor, bareheaded and in his shirt sleeves, squinting in the sunlight, attended them, repeating at every step: "Slow, slow, take it easy, gentlemen." Old Broderson was unconscious. His face was not pale, no bandages could be seen.
The others agreed unanimously and promptly; and old Broderson, tugging uneasily at his long beard, added: "No no no violence, no UNNECESSARY violence, that is. I should hate to have innocent blood on my hands that is, if it IS innocent. I don't know, that S. Behrman ah, he is a a surely he had innocent blood on HIS head.
There was no denying the fact that for Osterman, Broderson, Annixter and Derrick, S. Behrman was the railroad. "Mr. Derrick, good-morning," he cried as he came up. "Good-morning, Harran. Glad to see you back, Mr. Derrick." He held out a thick hand. Magnus, head and shoulders above the other, tall, thin, erect, looked down upon S. Behrman, inclining his head, failing to see his extended hand.
Just after passing Caraher's saloon, on the County Road that ran south from Bonneville, and that divided the Broderson ranch from that of Los Muertos, Presley was suddenly aware of the faint and prolonged blowing of a steam whistle that he knew must come from the railroad shops near the depot at Bonneville.
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