The slender, mild-mannered young man to whom Symes was introduced in the
office of Mudge, the promoter, was not a person Symes himself would have
singled out as one entrusted with the handling and investment of the
funds of a great estate. He had a slight impediment of speech, he was
modest to diffidence, and modesty and money was a combination not easy
for Symes to conceive, but Mudge had said anxiously upon Symes's
arrival:
"I hope you make a good impression, Symes, and can put the proposition
up to him right, because if we can land him at all we may be able to
land him for the whole cheese, and it will take a load off me if we can.
It's gettin' harder all the time to place these bonds; money is tighter
and people seem leary of irrigation projects.
"I had no idea so many people had been pecked in the head until I began
to handle this proposition. They're damned suspicious I can tell you.
It's nearly as easy to sell mining stock and, compared to that, peddling
needles and pins from door to door is a snap. Talk it up big but don't
overdo it, for J. Collins Prescott is no yap."
"Leave him to me," Symes had replied confidently; "don't worry. If he
has got real money and is looking for a place to put it, I'll see that
he finds it." And Mudge, noting the warmth of his grasp, the heartiness
of his big voice, the steady frankness of the look which the westerner
sent into Prescott's eyes, felt that Symes was the man to do the trick
and congratulated himself upon his wisdom in sending for him.
"I--I've been looking through your prospectus, Mr. Symes," said J.
Collins Prescott after he had been duly presented with a cabana by that
gentleman, "and it is v-very attractive, I might say a-alluring."
Symes beamed benignly.
"You think so? I tell Mudge there's one fault I have to find with
it--it's too conservative."
"A good fault," commended Mr. Prescott.
"Yes, yes, of course, better that than overdrawn, and then it's always
an agreeable surprise to investors when they come out and look the
proposition over. If you are thinking seriously of this thing, Mr.
Prescott, I wish you could arrange to return with me. I invariably
advise it. Mr. Mudge tells me you have some idle money and I feel sure
that you could not place it where you'd get bigger returns."
"W-western irrigated lands have a-always interested me c-considerably,"
admitted Mr. Prescott, "but heretofore the estate which I represent has
confined itself chiefly to the acquirement of water-power sites and
their development. They--they're good investments in your opinion?"
"Undoubtedly," was Mr. Symes's emphatic reply. "Very; but they're
gettin' scarce, while the irrigating of arid lands is as yet in its
infancy."
"E-exactly. I feel that we should begin reaching out along those lines,
and although I am not greatly c-conversant with investments of this
nature, I can readily see their possibilities."
"No limit!" declared Symes. "Nothin' _but_! Takes capital of course, but
the returns are big and sure. That's what we are all looking for."
"I know little if anything of the actual construction of a ditch, but I
should presume that the personnel of the m-management would count for
much," ventured Mr. Prescott.
"Rather!" Symes replied abruptly, "and if I may say so--if you will
pardon me--the name of Symes is a valuable asset to any
enterprise--prestige, you know, and all that."
Prescott looked slightly mystified.
"The Symes of Maine--grandfather personal friend of Alexander
Hamilton's--father one-time Speaker of the House; naturally the name of
Symes stands for something."
Not a muscle of J. Collins Prescott's face moved, but Mudge, watching
him keenly, felt uncomfortable and a sudden annoyance at Symes's
childish boastings, for so they sounded in Prescott's presence. Symes
seemed unable to realize the importance of the unassuming young man who
listened so attentively but non-committally to all that he was saying,
and in the light of their relative positions Mudge felt that Symes was
making himself a trifle ridiculous.
"Ah, yes," Prescott replied courteously, "Symes is a notable name, but I
was considering the management from a business rather than a social
point of view. You have a w-wide experience in this line? You c-can, I
presume, furnish credentials as to past successes, Mr. Symes?"
Symes's natural impulse was to reply, "Certainly, to be sure, years of
experience, delighted to furnish anything you like," but something, the
voice of caution or Mudge's warning look, induced him to say instead:
"I can't say a _wide_ experience, Mr. Prescott, not truthfully a _wide_
one, but some, of course, in fact considerable. Experience isn't really
necessary; horse-sense is the thing, horse-sense, executive ability and
large-mindedness--these qualifications I think I may conscientiously say
I possess."
"I--I see."
Mudge pulled nervously at his mustache.
"As a matter of fact," continued Mr. Symes, "I never permit myself to be
identified with failures. When I see that things are shootin' the chutes
I pull out." Mr. Symes laughed heartily. "I get from under."
"V-very wise." For an instant, the infinitessimal part of a second,
there was a glint of amusement in Prescott's mild eyes and, as he added,
Mudge once more felt that uncomfortable warmth under his collar, "Symes
and success are synonymous terms, I infer."
Symes laughed modestly.
"But to get down to business,"--there was a suggestion of weariness in
Prescott's tone--"the water supply is ample?"
"Oceans! Worlds of it, I might say."
"The water rights perfect--stand the severest legal scrutiny?"
"Absolutely!"
"Only engineers of recognized ability consulted and employed upon a
project of such magnitude, I infer?"
Mr. Symes's hesitation was so slight as to be scarcely perceptible.
"The best obtainable."
"And approximately 200,000 acres of segregated land can be reclaimed
under your project?"
"Every foot of it."
"At an expense of $250,000, according to the figures in your
prospectus?"
"That's our estimate and the amount of our bond issue."
"You believe you will have no difficulty in disposing of this land at
$50 an acre?"
"Dispose of it? They'll fight for it! Why," declared Mr. Symes, striking
at the air with a gesture of conviction, "the whole country is land
hungry."
"It's a liberal return upon the investment," murmured Prescott.
"It's a big thing! And think of the Russian Jews."
"Pardon me?"
"Colonization, you know, hundreds of Russian Jews out there raising
sugar-beets for the sugar-beet factory, happy as larks."
"To be sure--I had forgotten." Mr. Prescott reached for a prospectus
upon the table at his elbow and looked at the picture of a factory with
smoke pouring from myriad chimneys and covering nothing short of an
acre.
"The soil is deep then--strong enough to stand sugar-beets?"
"Rotation of crops--scientific farming," explained Symes, "gives it a
chance to recover."
Prescott nodded.
"I see. The length of the ditch is----"
"Thirty-five miles and a fraction."
"What is the normal width and what amount of water does it carry?"
"Sixty-five feet and it carries six feet of water."
"What is the slope?"
"Two and a half feet per mile."
"How much water to the acre is applied in your State?"
Symes was showing some surprise. For a man who was not familiar with
irrigation projects Prescott was asking decidedly pertinent questions,
but Symes answered glibly--
"A cubic foot per second to each seventy acres."
"And the yardage? What are your engineer's figures on the yardage?"
Symes cleared his throat--a habit which manifested itself when he was
nervous--
"It can be moved for ten to fifteen cents a cubic yard."
"C-cheap enough." Prescott looked at him with interested intentness.
"And the loose rock?"
"Twenty-five to thirty." Symes stirred uneasily in his chair.
"And the cuts? the solid rock?"
"Fifty to sixty cents," Symes replied after an instant's hesitation.
"Ah, soft rock. These are your engineer's figures, of course?"
"Of course," Symes answered curtly, and added: "I should say that you
had a good deal of practical knowledge of such matters, Mr. Prescott."