“I will promise,” said Montague.  “What is it?”

“You must not even let on that you know,” added the other.  “Price would know that I told you.”

“Oh, it’s Price!” said Montague.  “I’ll promise to protect you.  What is it?”

“He called up Davenant yesterday afternoon, and told him that you were not to be elected president of the road.”

Montague gazed at him in dismay.

“He says you are to be dropped entirely,” said the other.  “Haskins is to be president.  Davenant had to tell me, because I am one of the directors.”

“So that’s it,” Montague whispered to himself.

“Do you know what’s the matter?” asked Curtiss.

“Yes, I do,” said Montague.

“What is it?”

“It’s a long story—­just some graft that I wouldn’t stand for.”

“Oh!” cried Curtiss, with sudden light.  “Is it the Hill Manufacturing Company?”

“It is,” said Montague.

It was Curtiss’s turn to stare in amazement.  “My God!” he gasped.  “Do you mean that you have thrown up the sponge for that?”

“I haven’t thrown up the sponge, by any means,” was the answer.  “But that’s why Price wants to get rid of me.”

“But, man!” cried the other.  “How perfectly absurd!”

Montague fixed his glance upon him.

“Would you advise me to stand for it?” he asked.

“But, my dear fellow!” said Curtiss.  “I’ve got some stock in that company myself.”

Montague sat in silence—­he could think of nothing to say after that.

“What in the world do you suppose you have gone into?” protested the other.  “A charity enterprise?” Then he stopped, seeing the look of pain upon his friend’s face.

He put a hand upon his arm.  “See here, old, man,” he said, “this is too bad, honestly.  I understand how you feel, and it’s a great credit to you; but you are living in the world, and you have got to be practical.  You can’t expect to take a railroad and run it as if it were an orphan asylum.  You can’t expect to do business, if you’re going to have notions like that.  It’s really a shame, to give up a work like this for such a reason.”

Montague stiffened.  “I assure you I haven’t given up yet,” he replied grimly.

“But what are you going to do?” protested the other.

“I am going to fight,” said he.

“Fight?” echoed Curtiss.  “But, man, you are perfectly helpless!  Price and Ryder own the road, and they will do as they please with it.”

“You are one of the directors of the road,” said Montague.  “And you know the situation.  You know the pledges upon which the election of the new board was secured.  Will you vote for Haskins as president?”

“My God, Montague!” protested the other.  “What a thing to ask of me!  You know perfectly well that I have no power in the road.  All the stock I own, Price gave me, and what can I do?  Why, my whole career would be ruined if I were to oppose him.”