ABE LEE RESIGNS.
In obedience to its master passion--Good Business--the race now began
pouring its life into the barren wastes of The King's Basin Desert.
In the city by the sea at the end of the Southwestern and Continental
there was a suite of offices with real gold letters on the ground-glass
doors richly spelling "The King's Basin Land and Irrigation Company."
Behind these doors there was real mahogany furniture, solid,
substantial and rich; a high safe; many attractive maps; and a
gentleman who--never having traveled west of Buffalo before--could
answer with authority every conceivable question relating to the
reclamation of the arid lands of the great West. When there were no
more questions to ask he could still tell you many things of the
wonderland of wealth that was being opened to the public by the
Company, demonstrating thus beyond the possibility of a doubt how many
times a dollar could be multiplied.
From this office went forth to the advertising departments of the
magazines and papers, skillfully prepared copy, which in turn was
followed by pamphlets, circulars and letters innumerable. In one room a
company of clerks and book-keepers and accountants pored over their
tasks at desks and counters. In another a squad of stenographers filled
the air with the sound of their type-writers. Through the doors of the
different rooms passed an endless procession; men from the front with
the marks of the desert sun on their faces--engineers, superintendents,
bosses, messengers, agents--servants of the Company; laborers of every
sort and nationality came in answer to the cry: "Men wanted!"; special
salesmen from foundry, factory and shop drawn by prospective large
sales of machinery, implements and supplies; land-hungry men from
everywhere seeking information and opportunity for investment.
At Deep Well (which is no well at all) on the rim of the Basin,
trainloads of supplies, implements, machinery, lumber and construction
material, horses, mules and men were daily side-tracked and unloaded on
the desert sands. Overland travelers gazed in startled wonder at the
scene of stirring activity that burst so suddenly upon them in the
midst of the barren land through which they had ridden for hours
without sight of a human habitation or sign of man. The great mountain
of goods, piled on the dun plain; the bands of horses and mules; the
camp-fires; the blankets spread on the bare ground; the men moving here
and there in seemingly hopeless confusion; all looked so ridiculously
out of place and so pitifully helpless.
Every hour companies of men with teams and vehicles set out from the
camp to be swallowed up in the silent distance. Night and day the huge
mountain of goods was attacked by the freighters who, with their big
wagons drawn by six, eight, twelve, or more, mules, appeared
mysteriously out of the weird landscape as if they were spirits
materialized by some mighty unknown genii of the desert. Their heavy
wagons loaded, their water barrels filled, they turned again to the
unseen realm from which they had been summoned. The sound of the loud
voices of the drivers, the creaking of the wagons, the jingle of
harness, the shot-like reports of long whips died quickly away; while,
to the vision, the outfits passed slowly--fading, dissolving in their
great clouds of dust, into the land of mystery.
In Rubio City Jefferson Worth continued on his machine-like way at the
Pioneer Bank, apparently paying no heed to the movement that offered
such opportunities for profitable investment. Barbara rarely spoke now
of the work that had been so dear to her, nor did she ever ride to the
foot of the hill on the Mesa to look over the Desert. The Seer was in
the northern railroad work again, but Abe Lee, with Tex and Pat and
Pablo Garcia, had gone with the beginning of the stream of life that
was pouring into the new country.
True to the far-reaching plans of the Company, at the largest and most
central of the supply camps, located in the very heart of The King's
Basin, the townsite of Kingston was laid out, and even in the days when
every drop of water was hauled from three to ten miles town lots were
offered for sale and sold to eager speculators.
A year from the beginning of the work at the intake at the river, water
was turned into the canals. With the coming of the water, Kingston
changed, almost between suns, from a rude supply camp to an established
town with post-office, stores, hotel, blacksmith shop, livery stables,
all in buildings more or less substantial. Most substantial of all was
the building owned and occupied by the offices of the Company.
With the coming of the water also, the stream of human life that flowed
into the Basin was swollen by hundreds of settlers driven by the master
passion--Good Business--to toil and traffic, to build the city, to
subdue and cultivate the land and thus to realize the Seer's dream,
while the engineer himself was banished from the work to which he had
given his life. Every sunrise saw new tent-houses springing up on the
claims of the settlers around the Company town and new buildings
beginning in the center of it all--Kingston. Every sunset saw miles of
new ditches ready to receive the water from the canal and acres of new
land cleared and graded for irrigation.
Thus it was that afternoon when, from his office window, Mr. Burk, the
General Manager of The King's Basin Land and Irrigation Company,
watched a freighter with a twelve-mule load of goods stop his team
directly across the street in front of the largest and most important
general store in the Basin.
Deck Jordan, the merchant, came out and the Manager easily heard the
driver's loud voice: "Jim'll be along in 'bout another hour, I reckon.
We aim to get the rest in two more trips."
"Six twelve-mule loads in that shipment," thought the Company's
manager; "and that fellow set up business with a two-horse load of
stuff!"
An empty wagon was driven up to the store and the General Manager
recognized in the driver one of the Company's men from a grading camp
six miles away; while another wagon--a Company wagon also--nearly
filled with supplies moved away toward the open desert.
Deck's business was assuming quite respectable proportions thought Mr.
Burk. And Deck's business was mostly with employes of the Company.
Taking a cigar from a box on his desk, Mr. Burk scratched a match on
the heel of his shoe and, leaning back in his office chair, continued
thinking. The Manager of The King's Basin Land and Irrigation Company
was paid to think. The Company hired Mr. Burk's peculiar talent even as
they hired the physical strength of their laborers or the professional
skill of their engineers.
As he meditated, the Manager still watched from the window the
activities of the street. Soon from the open desert, beyond the last
new building down the street, he saw a horseman approaching. At an easy
swinging lope the rider came straight toward the Company's headquarters
and, as he drew near, the Manager recognized the chief engineer.
Greeting the man at the open window as he passed, Willard Holmes
dismounted at the entrance of the building and, going first to the
water tank, soon appeared in the doorway of the Manager's room. The
engineer's clothes from boots to Stetson were covered with dust and his
face was deeply bronzed by the months in the open air.
Turning from the window Mr. Burk held out the box of cigars.
"No thanks," said the Chief with a smile. "I'm hot as a lime kiln now.
Wait until after supper."
Throwing his hat and gloves on the floor, he dropped into a chair with
a sigh of relief at the grateful coolness of the room after hours of
riding in the dazzling light of the desert sun.
The other, returning the box to its place, tipped back in his chair and
elevated his well-dressed feet to his desk and, with his cigar in one
corner of his mouth and his head cocked suggestively to one side,
looked his companion over with a critical smile. "I say, Holmes, how
would you like to be in little old New York this evening?"
At the question and the manner of the speaker the engineer held up his
hands with a motion of protest as he commanded, in tragic voice: "Get
thee behind me, Satan!" Then, at the Manager's laugh, he added
seriously: "New York is all right, Burk, but I guess I can manage to
stick it out here a while longer."
Burk looked at the engineer with the same thoughtful expression that
had marked his face when he watched the wagon-load of supplies before
the store across the street. "I have noticed that you show symptoms of
slowly developing an interest in your job," he murmured. "You were at
the river yesterday."
"No; I was at Number Five Heading. Abe Lee will be in from the intake
this afternoon. I was there day before yesterday."
"How is the little old Colorado behaving herself?"
"All right so far. Our work is all a guess though. There is not a scrap
of data to go on, you know." There was a hint of anxiety in the chief
engineer's answer.
"I suppose you find the talkative Abe cheerfully optimistic about the
future of our structures as usual?"
Holmes did not smile at the jesting tone of the Manager. "Lee is
certainly doing all he can to make things safe. He is a fiend for
thoroughness, and between you and me, Burk, the Company _ought_ to
spend more money on that intake at least. A few more thousands would
make it what it should be."
The man who was paid to think held out a hand protestingly. "My dear
boy, how many times have we gone over that? The Company will spend just
what they must spend to get this scheme going and not a cent more.
Later, when the business justifies, they will improve the system. Don't
get yourself sidetracked by the notion that this whole project is for
the benefit of the dear people and that the Company is made up of
benevolent old gentlemen, who have nothing to do with their wealth but
promote philanthropic enterprises. You should know your Uncle Jim
better. Dividends, my boy, dividends; that's what we're all here for,
and you can't afford to forget it. By the way, did you have any dinner
to-day?"
"I struck Camp Seven on the Alamitos at noon."
"Hum-m. Sour bread, sow-belly, frijoles? Or was it canned corn? I say,
old man, do you remember some of the places where we used to dine at
home--flowers and music, and table linen, and real dishes, and waiters
with real food, and women--God bless 'em!--real women? What would you
give to-night, Holmes, for something to eat that had never been
preserved, embalmed, cured, dried or tinned? It's not a dream of
fairyland, my boy; there are such places in the world and there are
such things to eat. Come, what do you say? Where shall we dine tonight
and what will you have?"
"You fiend!" growled Holmes. "You know I'd sell my soul this minute for
one good red apple."
Lowering his feet to the floor and rising, the Manager of The King's
Basin Land and Irrigation Company crossed the room stealthily and
carefully closed the door. Then taking a bunch of keys from his pocket,
with an air of great secrecy he unlocked a drawer in his desk, pulled
it open and took out--_an apple_.
The Company's chief engineer fell on the Manager with an exclamation of
amazement and delight.
"Really," said Burk as he watched the fruit disappear, "your child-like
pleasure almost justifies my crime. I even feel repaid for my
self-denial. There were only three in the basket."
"How did you do it?" asked Holmes between bites, gazing at the apple in
his hand as though to devour the treat with his eyes also, thereby
doubling the pleasure.
"It was one of our dearly beloved prospective settlers," the thoughtful
Manager explained with an air of conscious merit. "He came in from
somewhere yesterday to spy out the land and, being a prudent and
thrifty farmer, he possesses, or is possessed by, a prudent and thrifty
wife. Said wife fitted out said farmer for his journey into this far
country with a market basket of provisions. Home-made provisions,
Willard, my son; _home made!_ A whole basket full! He had one feed left
and was finishing it out there on the sidewalk when I returned from
what we of this benighted land call dinner. How could I help looking. I
watched him devour the leg of a chicken. I watched him eat real bread
with jelly on it. Then I caught sight of three apples--_three!_ Holmes,
such wealth is criminal. I considered--I became an anarchist. He was a
big husky and I dared not assault him, so I talked--Lord forgive
me!--how I talked. I offered confidential advice, I conjured up visions
of wealth untold. I laid him under a spell and gently led him and his
basket into the office even as he finished the pie. I showed him maps;
I gave him a cigar; I urged him to leave his basket and satchel here in
my private office for safe-keeping while he looked around. Gladly he
accepted my invitation. His confidence was pathetic. How could the
poor, trusting farmer know that I was ready, if necessary, to murder
him for his fortune? When he had gone I locked the door and I--I--I
only took two, Holmes; I dared not take them all, for he was big and
rough, as I say. But I could not believe that a man with such wealth
could miss a part of it."
"But you said you ate two," said the engineer severely, taking another
long, lingering bite.
"I did," returned the Manager, with awful solemnity. "When that
trusting but husky farmer returned later for his possessions he thanked
me many times for my kindness while I trembled with the consciousness
of my guilt, assuring him that it was no trouble at all--no trouble at
all. And then--just as I felt sure that he was going and was beginning
to breathe easier--he stopped and fumbled around in his basket. My
heart stood still. 'Hannah put some fine apples in my dinner,' he
muttered. 'I thought maybe you might like some. Reckon I must a-et 'em
after all. I thought there was--no, by jocks! here she is.' Holmes, as
I live he handed me that other apple. It was positively uncanny. I was
speechless. Not until he was gone did I realize that it was prophetic.
In like manner shall the settlers, the farmers, save this land and us
from destruction."
"It's Good Business," returned Holmes. "It exactly illustrates your
methods of dealing with the confiding public."
"Humph!" grunted the other. "I observe that you do not hesitate to
enjoy the fruits of my financiering."
A knock at the door prevented the engineer's reply.
"Come in!" called Burk.
The door opened and Abe Lee stood on the threshold. The two men greeted
the surveyor cordially but with that subtle touch in their voices that
hinted at consciousness of superior position and authority.
Abe addressed himself directly to his Chief, saying: "We finished at
the intake last night, sir, and moved to Dry River Heading this morning
as you directed."
"You left everything at the river in good shape, of course?"
The surveyor did not answer. The tobacco and paper that, in his long
fingers, were assuming the form of a cigarette seemed to demand his
undivided attention. Burk was thoughtfully watching the two men. At the
critical moment he handed Abe a match. From the cloud of smoke Abe
spoke again. "The outfit will be ready to begin work at the Heading
to-morrow morning."
Before Holmes could speak the Manager said: "You evidently still think,
Lee, that the work at the river is not satisfactory. Are you still
predicting that our intake will go out with the next high water?"
"I don't know whether the next high water will do it or not. The Rio
Colorado alone won't hurt us, but when the Gila and the Little Colorado
go on the war-path and come down on top of a high Colorado flood you'll
catch hell. It may be this season; it may be next. It depends on the
snowfall in the upper countries and the weather in the spring, but it
_has_ come and it will come again."
"How do you know? There have been no records kept and no surveys. We
have no data."
"There's data enough. The Colorado leaves her own record. I know the
country; I know what the river has done and I know what the Indians
have told me."
At the surveyor's words his Chief stirred impatiently and the Manager
answered: "But we can't spend twenty or thirty thousand dollars on a
mere guess at what _may_ happen, Lee. When the country is fairly well
settled and business justifies, we will put in a new intake. In the
meantime those structures will have to do. The K. B. L. and I. is not
in business for glory, you know." Abe spoke softly from a cloud of
smoke. "And are you explaining this situation to the people who are
coming here by the hundreds to settle? Do they understand the chances
they are taking when they buy water rights and go ahead to develop
their ranches?"
"Certainly not. If we talked risks no one would come in. The Company
must protect its interests."
"Who protects the settlers' interests?"
The Manager stiffened. "I don't recognize your right to criticise the
Company's policy, Lee. Mr. Holmes is our chief engineer and he assures
me that our structures are as good as they can be made with the money
at our disposal. We can only carry out the policies of the Company and
we are responsible to them for the money we spend. You have no
responsibility in the matter whatever."
"Oh, hell, Burk," drawled Abe, though his eyes contradicted flatly his
soft tone. "There's no occasion for you to climb so high up that
ladder. You've been a corporation mouthpiece so long you have no more
soul than the Company." He turned to his Chief. "I left Andy in charge
at camp. He understands that I will not be back. I dropped my
resignation in your box in the office as I came in. Adios."
Leaving the office, Abe walked slowly down the street through the heart
of the Company's little town. On every hand he saw the work that was
being wrought in the Desert. There were business blocks and houses in
every stage of building from the new-laid foundation to the moving-in
of the tenants. The air rang with sound of hammer and saw. Teams and
wagons from the ranches lined the street. The very faces of the people
he met glowed with enthusiasm, while determination and purpose were
expressed in their very movements as they hurried by.
A mile west of town the surveyor stopped on the bridge that spanned the
main canal. He paused to look around. He saw the country already dotted
with the white tent-houses of the settlers, and even as he looked three
new wagons, loaded with supplies and implements, passed, bound for the
claims of the owners. Under his feet the water from the distant river
ran strongly. To the west was a grading camp on the line of a Company
ditch; to the south was another. Far to the north and east, along the
rim of the Basin, he knew the railroad was bringing other pioneers by
the hundreds. He drew a deep breath and, taking off his sombrero, drank
in the scene. How he loved it all! It was the Seer's dream, but the
Seer could have no part in it. It was Barbara's Desert, but Barbara was
shut out--exiled. It was his work, but he was powerless to do it. The
Seer had told him to stay for his work's sake. He smiled grimly,
remembering the Manager's words. Barbara had told him to stay, but the
girl knew nothing of conditions--how could she know? Jefferson Worth
had told him to stay. Why? Barbara, in her letters, never spoke of the
work. The Seer seldom wrote; Jefferson Worth, never. Every month the
situation had grown more unbearable. Burk might insist that he had no
responsibility and Holmes might argue that they could only do their
best with what funds the Company would supply. Abe was not of their
school. Well, he was out of it now for good. He was not the kind of a
man the Company wanted.
Returning to town he had supper at the little shack restaurant and,
going to the tent house owned by himself and two brother-surveyors that
they might have a place to sleep when in town, he gathered his few
possessions together in readiness for departure in the morning.
When the brief task was finished and he had written a note to his two
friends, who were away, he went out again on the main street, because
there was nothing else to do. It was evening now and the usual crowd
was gathered in front of the post-office to watch the arrival of the
stage, the one event of never-failing interest to these hardy pioneers.
In the throng there were teamsters, laborers, ranchers, mechanics,
real-estate agents, speculators, surveyors--gathered from camp and
field and town. Some were expecting letters from the home folks in the
world outside; a few were looking for friends among the passengers.
Many were there, as was Abe, because it was the point of interest. All
were roughly clad, marked by the semi-tropical desert wind and sun.
It was among such men as these that Abe Lee's life had been spent. Such
scenes as these were home scenes to him. In a peculiar way, through the
Seer and Barbara, the work that these men were doing was dear to him.
He felt that he was being cast out of his own place. As he passed
through the throng Abe heard always the same topic of conversation: the
work--the work--the work. News to these men meant more miles of canal
finished, new ditches dug, more land leveled and graded, new settlers
located. The surveyor thought of the future of these people, given
wholly into the hands of the Company; of the men in the East, who knew
nothing of their hardships but who would force them to pay royal
tribute out of the fruits of their toil; of how, even then, they were
increasing the value of the Company property.
"Here she comes!" cried someone, and all eyes were turned to see the
stage swinging down the street. Abe drew back a little--to the thin
edge of the crowd; he was expecting neither letters nor friends. The
six broncos were brought to a stand in the midst of the crowd, the mail
bag was tossed to the post-master and the passengers began climbing
down from their seats.
As the last man rose from his place he stood for a moment in a stooped
position, gripping with each hand one of the standards that supported
the canvas top of the vehicle. Looking out thus over the crowd he
seemed to be gathering data for an estimate of the population before he
felt cautiously with his foot for the step.
Abe Lee started forward with an exclamation.
It was Jefferson Worth!