DOUBLE TROUBLE
The next two weeks of Wiley Holman's life were packed so full of trouble
that there were those who almost pitied him, though the word had been
passed around to lay off. It was Samuel J. Blount who was making the
trouble, and who notified the rest to keep out, and so great was his
influence in all the desert country that no one dared to interfere. What
he did was all legal and according to business ethics, but it gloved the
iron hand. Blount was reaching for the mine and he intended to get it,
if he had to crush his man. The attachments and suits were but the
shadow boxing of the bout; the rough stuff was held in reserve. And
somehow Wiley sensed this, for he sat tight at the mine and hired a
lawyer to meet the suits. His job was mining ore and he shoveled it out
by the ton.
The distressing accidents had suddenly ceased since he began to board
his own men at the mine and, while his lawyer stalled and haggled to
fight off an injunction, he rushed his ore to the railroad. It was too
precious to ship loose, for at eighty-four dollars a unit it was worth
over four dollars a pound; he sent it out sacked, with an armed guard on
each truck to see that it was delivered and receipted for. As the checks
came back he paid off all his debts, thus depriving Blount of his
favorite club; and then, while Blount was casting about for new weapons,
he began to lay aside his profits.
They rolled up monstrously, for each five-ton truck load added several
thousand dollars to his bank account, but the time was getting short.
Less than three weeks remained before the bond and lease expired, and
still Wiley was playing to win. He crammed his mine with men, snatching
the ore from the stopes as the bonanza leasers had done at Tonopah, and
doubling the miner's pay with bonuses. Every truck driver received his
bonus, and night and day the great motors went thundering across the
desert. The ore came up from below and was dumped on a jig, where it was
sorted and hastily sacked; and after that there was nothing to do but
sent it under guard to the railroad. There was no milling, no smelting,
no tedious process of reduction; but the raw picked ore was rushed to
the East and the checks came promptly back.
Blount was fully informed now of the terms of his contract and of the
source of his sudden wealth, but there was no way of reaching the buyer.
A great war was on, every minute was precious--and every ounce of the
tungsten was needed. The munitions makers could not pause for a single
day in their mad rush to fill their contracts. The only ray of hope that
Blount could see was that the price had broken to sixty dollars a unit.
Wiley's contract called for eighty-four, throughout the full year--but
suppose he should lose his mine. And suppose Blount should win it. He
could offer better terms, provided always that the buyer would
accommodate him now. Suppose, for instance, that the fat daily checks
should cease coming during the life of the lease. That could easily be
explained--it might be an error in book-keeping--but it would make quite
a difference to Wiley. And in return for some such favor Blount could
afford to sell the tungsten for, say, fifty-five dollars a unit.
Blount was a careful man. He did not trust his message to the wires, nor
did he put it on paper to convict him; he simply disappeared--but when
he came back Wiley's lawyer was waiting with a check. It was for twenty
thousand dollars, and in return for this payment the lawyer demanded all
of Blount's stock. Four hundred thousand shares, worth five dollars
apiece if the bond and lease should lapse, and called for under the
option at five cents! In those few short days, while Blount had been
speeding East, Wiley had piled up this profit and more--and now he was
demanding his stock!
"No!" said Blount, "that option is invalid because it was obtained by
deception and fraud, and therefore I refuse to recognize it."
"Very well," replied the lawyer, who made his living out of
controversies, and, summoning witnesses to his offer, he placed the
money in the hands of the court and plunged into furious litigation. It
was furious, in a way, and yet not so furious as the next day and the
next passed by; for the lawyer was a business man and dependent upon the
good will of Blount. It was a civil suit and, since Wiley could not
appear to state his case in Court, it was postponed by mutual consent.
It had come over Wiley that, as long as he stood guard, no accident
would happen at the mine; but he was equally convinced that, the moment
he left it, the unexpected would happen. So, since Blount had elected to
fight his suit, he let the fate of his option wait while he piled up
money for his _coup_. As an individual, Blount might resist the
sale of his stock; but as President of the Company he and his Board of
Directors had given Wiley a valid bond and lease and, acting under its
terms, Wiley still had an opportunity to gain a clear title to the mine.
What happened to the stock could be thrashed out later, but with the
Paymaster in his possession he could laugh his enemies to scorn--and he
did not intend to be jumped! For who could tell, among these men who
swarmed about him, which ones might be hired emissaries of Blount; and,
once he was out of sight, they might seize the mine and hold it against
all comers.
It was a thing which had been done before, and was likely to be done
again; and as the days slipped by, bringing him closer to the end, he
looked about for some agent. Had he a man that he could trust to hold
the mine, while he went into town to gain title to it? He looked them
all over but, knowing Blount as he did, and the weakness of human
nature, he hesitated and decided against it. No, it was better by far
that _he_ should hold the mine--for possession, in mining, is
everything--and send someone to pay over the money. That would be
perfectly legal, and anyone could do it, but here again he hesitated.
The zeal of his lawyer was failing of late--could he trust him to make
the payment, in a town that was owned by Blount? Would he offer it
legally and demand a legal surrender, and come out and put the deed in
his hand? He might, but Wiley doubted it.
There was something going on regarding the payments for his shipments
which he was unable to straighten out over the 'phone, and his lawyer
was neglecting even that. And yet, if those checks were held up much
longer it might seriously interfere with his payment. He had wired
repeatedly, but either the messages were not delivered or his buyer was
trying to welch on his contract. What he wanted was an agent, to go
directly to the buyer and get the matter adjusted. Wiley thought the
matter over, then he 'phoned his lawyer to forget it and wrote direct to
an express company, enclosing his bills of lading and authorizing them
to collect the account. When it came to collecting bills you could trust
the express company--and you could trust Uncle Sam with your mail--but
as to the people in Vegas, and especially the telephone girl, he had his
well-established doubts. His telegraphic messages went out over the
'phone and were not a matter of record and if she happened to be eating
a box of Blount's candy she might forget to relay them. It was borne in
upon him, in fact, more strongly every day, that there are very few
people you can trust. With a suitcase, yes--but with a mine worth
millions? That calls for something more than common honesty.
The fight for the Paymaster, and Wiley's race against time, was now on
every tongue, and as the value of the property went up there was a
sudden flurry in the stock. Men who had hoarded it secretly for eight
and ten years, men who had moved to the ends of the world, all heard of
the fabulous wealth of the new Paymaster and wrote in to offer their
stock. Not to offer it, exactly, but to place it on record; and others
began as quietly to buy. It was known that the royalties had piled up an
accruing dividend of at least twenty cents a share; and with the sale of
it imminent--and a greater rise coming in case there was no sale--there
would be a further increase in value. It was good, in fact, for thirty
cents cash, with a gambling chance up to five dollars; and the wise ones
began to buy. Men he had not seen for years dropped in on Wiley to ask
his advice about their stock; and one evening in his office, he looked
up from his work to see the familiar face of Death Valley Charley.
"Hello there, Charley," he said, still working. "Awful busy. What is it
you want?"
"Virginia wants her stock," answered Charley simply and blinked as he
stood waiting the answer. There was a war on now between the Huffs and
Holmans into which Wiley's father had been drawn; and since Honest John
had repudiated his son's acts and disclaimed all interest in his deal,
Charley knew that Wiley was bitter. He had cut off the Widow from her
one source of revenue but, when she had accused him of doing it for his
father, Wiley had forgotten the last of his chivalry. Not only did he
board all his men himself but he promised to fire any man he had who was
seen taking a meal at the Widow's. It was war to the knife, and Charley
knew it, but he blinked his eyes and stood firm.
"What stock?" demanded Wiley, and then he closed his lips and his eyes
turned fighting gray. "You tell her," he said, "if she wants her stock,
to come and get it herself."
"But she sent me to get it!" objected Charley obstinately.
"Yes, and I send you back," answered Wiley. "I gave her that stock
twice, and I made it what it is, and if she wants it she can come and
ask for it."
"And will you give it to her?" asked Charley, but Wiley only grunted and
went ahead with his writing.
It was apparent to him what was in the wind. The Widow had written to
demand of his father some return for the damage to her business; and
Honest John had replied, and sent Wiley a copy, that he was in no ways
responsible for his acts. This letter to Wiley had been followed by
another in which his father had rebuked him for persecuting Mrs. Huff,
and Wiley had replied with five pages, closely written, reciting his
side of the case. At this John Holman had declared himself neutral and,
beyond repeating his offer to buy the Widow's stock, had disclaimed all
interest in her affairs. But now, with her stock still in Blount's hands
and this last source of revenue closed to her, the Widow was left no
alternative but to appeal indirectly to Wiley. What other way then was
open, if she was ever to win back her stock, but to get back Virginia's
shares and sell them to raise the eight hundred dollars? Wiley grumbled
to himself as Death Valley Charley turned away and went on writing his
letter.
It had been a surprise, after his break with Virginia, to discover that
it left him almost glad. It had removed a burden that had weighed him
down for months, and it left him free to act. He could protect his
property now as it should be protected, without thought of her or
anybody; and he could board his own men and keep the gospel of hate from
being constantly dinned into their ears. They were honest, simple
miners, easily swayed by a woman's distress, but equally susceptible to
the lure of gold; and now with a bonus after the minimum of work they
were tearing out the ore like Titans. They were loyal and satisfied,
greeting his coming with a friendly smile; but if Virginia got hold of
them, or her venomous mother, where then would be his discipline?
He was deep in his work when a shadow fell upon his desk and he looked
up to see--Virginia.