"A trust is its weakest point," said Jeff Peters.  
"That," said I, "sounds like one of those remarks such as, 'Why is a policeman?'"
 
"It is not," said Jeff. "There are no relations between a trust and a policeman. My remark was an epitogram—an axis—a kind of mulct'em in parvo. What it means is that a trust is like an egg, and it is not like an egg. If you want to break an egg you have to do it from the outside. The only way to break up a trust is from the inside. Keep sitting on it until it hatches. Look at the brood of young colleges and libraries that's and peeping all over the country. Yes, sir, every trust bears in its own the seeds of its destruction like a rooster that crows near a Georgia colored Methodist camp meeting, or a Republican announcing himself a candidate for governor of Texas."
 
I asked Jeff, jestingly, if he had ever, during his , plaided, mottled, pied and dappled career, conducted an enterprise of the class to which the word "trust" had been . Somewhat to my surprise he acknowledged the corner.
 
"Once," said he. "And the state seal of New never bit into a charter that opened up a solider and safer piece of octopusing. We had everything in our favor—wind, water, police, nerve, and a clean monopoly of an article indispensable to the public. There wasn't a trust buster on the globe that could have found a weak spot in our scheme. It made Rockefeller's little look like a bucket shop. But we lost out."
 
"Some unforeseen came up, I suppose," I said.
 
"No, sir, it was just as I said. We were self-curbed. It was a case of auto-suppression. There was a within the loot, as Albert Tennyson says.
 
"You remember I told you that me and Andy Tucker was partners for some years. That man was the most talented at I ever saw. Whenever he saw a dollar in another man's hands he took it as a personal , if he couldn't take it any other way. Andy was educated, too, besides having a lot of useful information. He had acquired a big amount of experience out of books, and could talk for hours on any subject connected with ideas and . He had been in every line of from lecturing on Palestine with a lot of magic lantern pictures of the annual Custom-made Clothiers' Association convention at Atlantic City to flooding Connecticut with bogus wood alcohol from nutmegs.
 
"One Spring me and Andy had been over in Mexico on a flying trip during which a Philadelphia capitalist had paid us $2,500 for a half interest in a silver mine in Chihuahua. Oh, yes, the mine was all right. The other half interest must have been worth two or three thousand. I often wondered who owned that mine.
 
"In coming back to the United States me and Andy stubbed our toes against a little town in Texas on the bank of the Rio Grande. The name of it was Bird City; but it wasn't. The town had about 2,000 inhabitants, mostly men. I figured out that their principal means of existence was in living close to tall chaparral. Some of 'em were stockmen and some gamblers and some horse peculators and plenty were in the line. Me and Andy put up at a hotel that was built like something between a roof-garden and a sectional bookcase. It began to rain the day we got there. As the saying is, Juniper Aquarius was sure turning on the water plugs on Mount Amphibious.
 
"Now, there were three saloons in Bird City, though neither Andy nor me drank. But we could see the townspeople making a procession from one to another all day and half the night. Everybody seemed to know what to do with as much money as they had.
 
"The third day of the rain it slacked up awhile in the afternoon, so me and Andy walked out to the edge of town to view the mudscape. Bird City was built between the Rio Grande and a deep wide that used to be the old bed of the river. The bank between the stream and its old bed was cracking and giving away, when we saw it, on account of the high water caused by the rain. Andy looks at it a long time. That man's intellects was never idle. And then he unfolds to me a instantaneous idea that has occurred to him. Right there was organized a trust; and we walked back into town and put it on the market.
 
"First we went to the main saloon in Bird City, called the Blue Snake, and bought it. It cost us $1,200. And then we dropped in, casual, at Mexican Joe's place, referred to the rain, and bought him out for $500. The other one came easy at $400.
 
"The next morning Bird City woke up and found itself an island. The river had through its old channel, and the town was surrounded by roaring . The rain was still raining, and there was heavy clouds in the northwest that about six more mean annual rainfalls during the next two weeks. But the worst was yet to come.
 
"Bird City out of its nest, waggled its pin feathers and strolled out for its matutinal toot. Lo! Mexican Joe's place was closed and likewise the other little 'dobe life saving station. So, naturally the body emits thirsty ejaculations of surprise and ports hellum for the Blue Snake. And what does it find there?
 
"Behind one end of the bar sits Jefferson Peters, , with a sixshooter on each side of him, ready to make change or as the case may be. There are three bartenders; and on the wall is a ten foot sign reading: 'All Drinks One Dollar.' Andy sits on the safe in his neat blue suit and gold-banded cigar, on the for emergencies. The town marshal is there with two deputies to keep order, having been promised free drinks by the trust.
 
"Well, sir, it took Bird City just ten minutes to realize that it was in a cage. We expected trouble; but there wasn't any. The citizens saw that we had 'em. The nearest railroad was thirty miles away; and it would be two weeks at least before the river would be fordable. So they began to cuss, , and throw down dollars on the bar till it sounded like a selection on the xylophone.
 
"There was about 1,500 grown-up adults in Bird City that had arrived at years of indiscretion; and the majority of 'em required from three to twenty drinks a day to make life endurable. The Blue Snake was the only place where they could get 'em till the flood . It was beautiful and simple as all truly great swindles are.
 
"About ten o'clock the silver dollars dropping on the bar slowed down to playing two-steps and marches instead of . But I looked out the window and saw a hundred or two of our customers in line at Bird City and Loan Co., and I knew they were borrowing more money to be sucked in by the clammy tendrils of the octopus.
 
"At the fashionable hour of noon everybody went home to dinner. We told the bartenders to take advantage of the , and do the same. Then me and Andy counted the receipts. We had taken in $1,300. We calculated that if Bird City would only remain an island for two weeks the trust would be able to endow the Chicago University with a new dormitory of padded cells for the , and present every poor man in Texas with a farm, provided he furnished the site for it.
 
"Andy was especial inroaded by self-esteem at our success, the of the scheme having originated in his own and premonitions. He got off the safe and lit the biggest cigar in the house.
 
"'Jeff,' says he, 'I don't suppose that anywhere in the world you could find three with brighter ideas about down-treading the proletariat than the firm of Peters, Satan and Tucker, incorporated. We have sure handed the small consumer a giant blow in the sole region. No?'
 
"'Well,' says I, 'it does look as if we would have to take up gastritis and golf or be measured for kilts in spite of ourselves. This little turn in juice is, verily, all to the Skibo. And I can stand it,' says I, 'I'd rather batten than bant any day.'
 
"Andy pours himself out four fingers of our best rye and does with it as was so intended. It was the first drink I had ever known him to take.
 
"'By way of liberation,' says he, 'to the gods.'
 
"And then after thus doing to the heathen he drinks another to our success. And then he begins to toast the trade, beginning with Raisuli and the Northern Pacific, and on down the line to the little ones like the school book combine and the oleomargarine and the Lehigh Valley and Great Scott Coal .
 
"'It's all right, Andy,' says I, 'to drink the health of our brother monopolists, but don't the wassail. You know our most and multi-corruptionists live on weak tea and dog biscuits.'
 
"Andy went in the back room awhile and came out dressed in his best clothes. There was a kind of murderous and soulful look of gentle in his eye that I didn't like. I watched him to see what turn the whiskey was going to take in him. There are two times when you never can tell what is going to happen. One is when a man takes his first drink; and the other is when a woman takes her latest.
 
"In less than an hour Andy's skate had turned to an ice yacht. He was outwardly decent and managed to preserve his , but inside he was and full of unexpectedness.
 
"'Jeff,' says he, 'do you know that I'm a —a living crater?'
 
"'That's a self-evident hypothesis,' says I. 'But you're not Irish. Why don't you say 'creature,' according to the rules and syntax of America?'
 
"'I'm the crater of a volcano,' says he. 'I'm all aflame and inside with an of words and phrases that have got to have an . I can feel millions of and parts of speech rising in me,' says he, 'and I've got to make a speech of some sort. Drink,' says Andy, 'always drives me to .'
 
"'It could do no worse,' says I.
 
"'From my earliest recollections,' says he, 'alcohol seemed to my sense of recitation and . Why, in Bryan's second campaign,' says Andy, 'they used to give me three gin rickeys and I'd speak two hours longer than Billy himself could on the silver question. Finally, they persuaded me to take the gold cure.'
 
"'If you've got to get rid of your excess verbiage,' says I, 'why not go out on the river bank and speak a piece? It seems to me there was an old spell-binder named Cantharides that used to go and disincorporate himself of his windy numbers along the seashore.'
 
"'No,' says Andy, 'I must have an audience. I feel like if I once turned loose people would begin to call Senator Beveridge the Grand Young Sphinx of the Wabash. I've got to get an audience together, Jeff, and get this oral or it may turn in on me and I'd go about feeling like a deckle-edge edition de luxe of Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth.'
 
"'On what special subject of the theorems and topics does your desire for seem to be connected with?' I asks.
 
"'I ain't particular,' says Andy. 'I am equally good and varicose on all subjects. I can take up the matter of Russian immigration, or the poetry of John W. Keats, or the , or Kabyle literature, or drainage, and make my audience weep, cry, and shed tears by turns.'
 
"'Well, Andy,' says I, 'if you are bound to get rid of this accumulation of suppose you go out in town and work it on some indulgent citizen. Me and the boys will take care of the business. Everybody will be through dinner pretty soon, and salt pork and beans makes a man pretty thirsty. We ought to take in $1,500 more by midnight.'
 
"So Andy goes out of the Blue Snake, and I see him stopping men on the street and talking to 'em. By and by he has half a dozen in a bunch listening to him; and pretty soon I see him waving his arms and elocuting at a good-sized crowd on a corner. When he walks away they string out after him, talking all the time; and he leads 'em down the main street of Bird City with more men joining the procession as they go. It reminded me of the old that I'd read in books about the Pied Piper of Heidsieck charming the children away from the town.
 
"One o'clock came; and then two; and three got under the wire for place; and not a Bird citizen came in for a drink. The streets were except for some ducks and ladies going to the stores. There was only a light falling then.
 
"A lonesome man came along and stopped in front of the Blue Snake to scrape the mud off his boots.
 
"'Pardner,' says I, 'what has happened? This morning there was gaiety afoot; and now it seems more like one of them ruined cities of Tyre and Siphon where the crawls on the walls of the main port-cullis.'
 
"'The whole town,' says the muddy man, 'is up in Sperry's wool listening to your side-kicker make a speech. He is some on delivering himself of audible sounds relating to matters and conclusions,' says the man.
 
"'Well, I hope he'll , sine qua non, pretty soon,' says I, 'for trade .'
 
"Not a customer did we have that afternoon. At six o'clock two Mexicans brought Andy to the saloon lying across the back of a burro. We put him in bed while he still muttered and gesticulated with his hands and feet.
 
"Then I locked up the cash and went out to see what had happened. I met a man who told me all about it. Andy had made the finest two hour speech that had ever been heard in Texas, he said, or anywhere else in the world.
 
"'What was it about?' I asked.
 
"'Temperance,' says he. 'And when he got through, every man in Bird City signed the pledge for a year.'"