beyond Argentine. For seventeen of the twenty miles the two lines were
scarcely more than a stone's throw apart, and when Biggin joined him
at the junction above Carbonate he had his note-book well filled with
the necessary data.

"Make it, all right?" inquired the friendly bailiff.

"Yes, thanks. Have another cigar?"

"Don't care if I do. Say, that old fire-eater back yonder in the
private car has got a mighty pretty gal, ain't he?"

"The young lady is his niece," said Winton, wishing that Mr. Biggin
would find other food for comment.

"I don't care; she's pretty as a Jersey two-year-old."

"It's a fine day," observed Winton; and then, to background Miss
Carteret effectually as a topic: "How do the people of Argentine feel
about the opposition to our line?"

"They're red-hot; you can put your money on that. The C. G. R.'s a
sure-enough tail-twister where there ain't no competition. Your
road'll get every pound of ore in the camp if it ever gets through."

Winton made a mental note of this up-cast of public opinion, and set
it over against the friendly attitude of the official Mr. Biggin. It
was very evident that the town-marshal was serving the Rajah's purpose
only because he had to.