The windows of the division head-quarters of the Pacific Southwestern at Copah looknorthward over bald, brown mesas, and across the Pannikin to the eroded cliffs of theUintah Hills. The prospect, lacking vegetation, artistic atmosphere, and color, is crude andrather harshly aggressive; and to Lidgerwood, glooming thoughtfully out upon it throughthe weather-worn panes scratched and bedimmed by many desert sandstorms, it waspeculiarly depressing."No, Ford; I hate to disappoint you, but I'm not the man you are looking for," he said, turning back to things present and in suspense, and speaking as one who would add areason to unqualified refusal. "I've been looking over the ground while you were coming onfrom New York. It isn't in me to flog the Red Butte Western into a well-behaved division ofthe P. S-W."The grave-eyed man who had borrowed Superintendent Leckhard's pivot-chair noddedintelligence."That is what you have been saying, with variations, for the last half-hour. Why?""Because the job asks for gifts that I don't possess. At the present moment the Red ButteWestern is the most hopelessly demoralized three hundred miles of railroad west of theRockies. There is no system, no discipline, no respect for authority. The men run the roadas if it were a huge joke. Add to these conditions the fact that the Red Desert is a countrywhere the large-calibred revolver is--""Yes, I know all that," interrupted the man in the chair. "The road and the region needcivilizing-need it badly. That is one of the reasons why I am trying to persuade you to takehold. You are long on civilization, Howard.""Not on the kind which has to be inculcated by main strength and a cheerful disregard forconsequences. I'm no scrapper.
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