it might be well if he were here.''

Clay was sitting with his chin on his breast, and he did not look
up, nor did the young man turn to him for any prompting. ``I'm
not down here as my father's son,'' he said, ``I am an employee
of Mr. Clay's. He represents the company. Good-night, sir.''

``You think, then,'' said Clay, ``that if your friends were given
an opportunity to subscribe to the stock they would feel less
resentful toward us? They would think it was fairer to all?''

``I know it,'' said Mendoza; ``why should the stock go out of the
country when those living here are able to buy it?''

``Exactly,'' said Clay, ``of course. Can you tell me this,
General? Are the gentlemen who want to buy stock in the mine the
same men who are in the Senate? The men who are objecting to the
terms of our concession?''

``With a few exceptions they are the same men.''

Clay looked out over the harbor at the lights of the town, and
the General twirled his hat around his knee and gazed with
appreciation at the stars above him.

``Because if they are,'' Clay continued, ``and they succeed in
getting our share cut down from ninety per cent to fifty per
cent, they must see that the stock would be worth just forty per
cent less than it is now.''