Such was the man who was the real power behind the Southern and
Transcontinental Railroad. More than anyone else Ryder had been
aroused by the present legal action, not so much for the money
interest at stake as that any one should dare to thwart his will.
It had been a pet scheme of his, this purchase for a song, when
the land was cheap, of some thousand acres along the line, and it
is true that at the time of the purchase there had been some idea
of laying the land out as a park. But real estate values had
increased in astonishing fashion, the road could no longer afford
to carry out the original scheme, and had attempted to dispose of
the property for building purposes, including a right of way for a
branch road. The news, made public in the newspapers, had raised a
storm of protest. The people in the vicinity claimed that the
railroad secured the land on the express condition of a park being
laid out, and in order to make a legal test they had secured an
injunction, which had been sustained by Judge Rossmore of the
United States Circuit Court.

These details were hastily told and re-told by one clerk to
another as the babel of voices in the inner room grew louder, and
more directors kept arriving from the ever-busy elevators. The
meeting was called for three o'clock. Another five minutes and the
chairman would rap for order. A tall, strongly built man with
white moustache and kindly smile emerged from the directors room
and, addressing one of the clerks, asked:

"Has Mr. Ryder arrived yet?"

The alacrity with which the employe hastened forward to reply