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Harran
nodded
,
his
eyes
flashing
,
his
face
growing
suddenly
scarlet
.
“
Ulsteen
gave
his
decision
yesterday
,
”
he
continued
,
reading
from
his
father
’
s
letter
.
“
He
holds
,
Ulsteen
does
,
that
’
grain
rates
as
low
as
the
new
figure
would
amount
to
confiscation
of
property
,
and
that
,
on
such
a
basis
,
the
railroad
could
not
be
operated
at
a
legitimate
profit
.
As
he
is
powerless
to
legislate
in
the
matter
,
he
can
only
put
the
rates
back
at
what
they
originally
were
before
the
commissioners
made
the
cut
,
and
it
is
so
ordered
.
’
That
’
s
our
friend
S
.
Behrman
again
,
”
added
Harran
,
grinding
his
teeth
.
“
He
was
up
in
the
city
the
whole
of
the
time
the
new
schedule
was
being
drawn
,
and
he
and
Ulsteen
and
the
Railroad
Commission
were
as
thick
as
thieves
.
He
has
been
up
there
all
this
last
week
,
too
,
doing
the
railroad
’
s
dirty
work
,
and
backing
Ulsteen
up
.
’
Legitimate
profit
,
legitimate
profit
,
’
”
he
broke
out
.
“
Can
we
raise
wheat
at
a
legitimate
profit
with
a
tariff
of
four
dollars
a
ton
for
moving
it
two
hundred
miles
to
tide
-
water
,
with
wheat
at
eighty
-
seven
cents
?
Why
not
hold
us
up
with
a
gun
in
our
faces
,
and
say
,
’
hands
up
,
’
and
be
done
with
it
?
”
He
dug
his
boot
-
heel
into
the
ground
and
turned
away
to
the
house
abruptly
,
cursing
beneath
his
breath
.
“
By
the
way
,
”
Presley
called
after
him
,
“
Hooven
wants
to
see
you
.
He
asked
me
about
this
idea
of
the
Governor
’
s
of
getting
along
without
the
tenants
this
year
.
Hooven
wants
to
stay
to
tend
the
ditch
and
look
after
the
stock
.
I
told
him
to
see
you
.
”
Harran
,
his
mind
full
of
other
things
,
nodded
to
say
he
understood
.
Presley
only
waited
till
he
had
disappeared
indoors
,
so
that
he
might
not
seem
too
indifferent
to
his
trouble
;
then
,
remounting
,
struck
at
once
into
a
brisk
pace
,
and
,
turning
out
from
the
carriage
gate
,
held
on
swiftly
down
the
Lower
Road
,
going
in
the
direction
of
Guadalajara
.
These
matters
,
these
eternal
fierce
bickerings
between
the
farmers
of
the
San
Joaquin
and
the
Pacific
and
Southwestern
Railroad
irritated
him
and
wearied
him
.
He
cared
for
none
of
these
things
.
They
did
not
belong
to
his
world
.
In
the
picture
of
that
huge
romantic
West
that
he
saw
in
his
imagination
,
these
dissensions
made
the
one
note
of
harsh
colour
that
refused
to
enter
into
the
great
scheme
of
harmony
.
It
was
material
,
sordid
,
deadly
commonplace
.
But
,
however
he
strove
to
shut
his
eyes
to
it
or
his
ears
to
it
,
the
thing
persisted
and
persisted
.
The
romance
seemed
complete
up
to
that
point
.
There
it
broke
,
there
it
failed
,
there
it
became
realism
,
grim
,
unlovely
,
unyielding
.
To
be
true
—
and
it
was
the
first
article
of
his
creed
to
be
unflinchingly
true
—
he
could
not
ignore
it
.
All
the
noble
poetry
of
the
ranch
—
the
valley
—
seemed
in
his
mind
to
be
marred
and
disfigured
by
the
presence
of
certain
immovable
facts
.
Just
what
he
wanted
,
Presley
hardly
knew
.
On
one
hand
,
it
was
his
ambition
to
portray
life
as
he
saw
it
—
directly
,
frankly
,
and
through
no
medium
of
personality
or
temperament
.
But
,
on
the
other
hand
,
as
well
,
he
wished
to
see
everything
through
a
rose
-
coloured
mist
—
a
mist
that
dulled
all
harsh
outlines
,
all
crude
and
violent
colours
.
He
told
himself
that
,
as
a
part
of
the
people
,
he
loved
the
people
and
sympathised
with
their
hopes
and
fears
,
and
joys
and
griefs
;
and
yet
Hooven
,
grimy
and
perspiring
,
with
his
perpetual
grievance
and
his
contracted
horizon
,
only
revolted
him
.
He
had
set
himself
the
task
of
giving
true
,
absolutely
true
,
poetical
expression
to
the
life
of
the
ranch
,
and
yet
,
again
and
again
,
he
brought
up
against
the
railroad
,
that
stubborn
iron
barrier
against
which
his
romance
shattered
itself
to
froth
and
disintegrated
,
flying
spume
.
His
heart
went
out
to
the
people
,
and
his
groping
hand
met
that
of
a
slovenly
little
Dutchman
,
whom
it
was
impossible
to
consider
seriously
.
He
searched
for
the
True
Romance
,
and
,
in
the
end
,
found
grain
rates
and
unjust
freight
tariffs
.
“
But
the
stuff
is
HERE
,
”
he
muttered
,
as
he
sent
his
wheel
rumbling
across
the
bridge
over
Broderson
Creek
.
“
The
romance
,
the
real
romance
,
is
here
somewhere
.
I
’
ll
get
hold
of
it
yet
.
”
He
shot
a
glance
about
him
as
if
in
search
of
the
inspiration
.
By
now
he
was
not
quite
half
way
across
the
northern
and
narrowest
corner
of
Los
Muertos
,
at
this
point
some
eight
miles
wide
.
He
was
still
on
the
Home
ranch
.
A
few
miles
to
the
south
he
could
just
make
out
the
line
of
wire
fence
that
separated
it
from
the
third
division
;
and
to
the
north
,
seen
faint
and
blue
through
the
haze
and
shimmer
of
the
noon
sun
,
a
long
file
of
telegraph
poles
showed
the
line
of
the
railroad
and
marked
Derrick
’
s
northeast
boundary
.
The
road
over
which
Presley
was
travelling
ran
almost
diametrically
straight
.
In
front
of
him
,
but
at
a
great
distance
,
he
could
make
out
the
giant
live
-
oak
and
the
red
roof
of
Hooven
’
s
barn
that
stood
near
it
.
