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Updated: July 21, 2025
It was three weeks and more after Governor Marston's call summoning the Assembly for an investigative session. Kent had fought his way triumphantly through the special election to a seat in the House, aided and abetted manfully by Ormsby, Hildreth, and the entire Trans-Western influence and vote.
Doesn't it occur to you that he is in just about as good a fix to secure those affidavits in Gaston as we are here, David?" "Good Lord! Do you mean that we have to send to Boston for our ammunition?" "Haven't we? Don't you see how nicely the thing is timed? Ten days later our Trans-Western reorganization would be complete, and we could swear our own officers on the spot.
Add to this the supplanting of competent executive officers by a staff of political trenchermen, ignorant alike of the science of railroading, and the equally important sub-science of industrial manhandling, and you have the kindling for the fire of insurrection which had been slowly smoldering in the Trans-Western service since the day when Major Guilford had issued his general order Number One.
Well, Guilford is going to lease the Trans-Western to its competitor for a term of ninety-nine years. That's your death sentence." Kent sprang to his feet, and what he said is unrecordable. He was not a profane man, but the sanguine temperament would assert itself explosively in moments of sudden stress.
So it came about that Major Guilford's relief measure was timed to a nicety, and the blanket cut in rates opened a veritable flood-gate for business in Trans-Western territory. From the day of its announcement the traffic of the road increased by leaps and bounds.
Kent's rejoinder was a mute signal to the effect that he was attending. "Some little time ago you came to me as the legal representative of the stock-holders of the Trans-Western Railway Company, and I did not find it possible at that time to meet your wishes in the matter of a quo warranto information questioning Judge MacFarlane's election and status.
You've done a big thing for me for the Argus; and all I have to hand you in return is a death sentence. MacFarlane is back." "Here? In town?" "Yes. And that isn't the worst of it. The governor sent for him." "Have you any idea what is in the wind?" asked Kent, dry-lipped. "I am afraid I have. My young men have been nosing around in the Trans-Western affair, and several things have developed.
"You've said it," said Kent, subsiding among the pillows. "Now will you go?" It took the general manager a wakeful twenty-four hours to untangle the industrial snarl which was the receiver's legacy to his successor; and David Kent slept through the major part of that interval, rising only in time to dress for dinner on the day following the retrieval of the Trans-Western.
Again Kent acquiesced, making no mention of sundry journeys he had made for the sole purpose of enlisting other editors, or of the open house Miss Van Brock was keeping for out-of-town newspaper men visiting the capital. "Moreover, we've served your turn in the Trans-Western affair," Hildreth went on. "Public interest is on the qui vive for new developments in that.
It was well on in the summer, when the two divisions, east and west, were strewn with wreckage and the pit tracks in the shops and shop yard were filled to overflowing with crippled engines, that the insurrectionaries began to gather in their respective labor groups to discuss the growing hazards of railroading on the Trans-Western.
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