The road in question leads from the city to the artesian well a few miles
away. Jim turned his horses and went back through the town and out toward
the country. He found Blaney just inside the city limits, sitting on a
curb and overseeing two bosses and a gang of laborers, who were tearing up
the macadam with the destructive enthusiasm of the hired sewer digger.

"How are you, Blaney?" called Jim, pulling up.

Blaney nodded sourly. He was a man of bullying rather than of tactful
propensities and he could not conceal his distaste for an interview with
Jim Weeks at this particular moment. To tell the truth, he had begun to
fear the results of the agreement with McNally which rested in his coat
pocket. Weeks was a hard man to fight, and wasted no words on disloyalty.
However, Blaney knew that dissimulation would profit him nothing, for to
keep the changed vote a secret would be impossible; so he squared himself
for a row. Jim tied his horses to a sapling and sat beside him,
remarking,--

"I want to have a talk with you."

"Haven't got much time," replied Blaney, making a show of looking at his
watch.

Jim smiled meaningly.

"You've got all the time I need. I want to know what you're up to with our
stock."

Blaney gazed at the laborers.