The ensuing days were filled with work demanding close attention and
concentration of thought, but often in the long, cool twilight, while
Darrell rested from his day's work before entering upon the night's
study, he recalled his visit to The Pines with a degree of pleasure
hitherto unknown. He had found Kate Underwood far different from his
anticipations, though just what his anticipations had been he did not
stop to define. There was at times a womanly grace and dignity in her
bearing which he would have expected from her portrait and which he
admired, but what especially attracted him was her utter lack of
affectation or self-consciousness. She was as unconscious as a child;
her sympathy towards himself and her pleasant familiarity with him were
those of a warm-hearted, winsome child.
He liked best to recall her as she looked that evening seated by the
fireside: the childish pose, the graceful outlines of her form
silhouetted against the light; the dreamy eyes, with their long golden
lashes curling upward; the lips parted in a half smile, and the gleam of
the firelight on her hair. But it was always as a child that he recalled
her, and the thought that to himself, or to any other, she could be
aught else never occurred to him. Of young Whitcomb's love for her, of
course, he had no recollection, nor had it ever been mentioned in his
hearing since his illness.
Day by day the work at the camp increased, and there also began to be
indications of an approaching outbreak among the men. The union
boarding-house was nearing completion; it was rumored that it would be
ready for occupancy within a week or ten days; the walking delegates
from the union could be frequently seen loitering about the camp,
especially when the changes in shifts were made, waiting to get word
with the men, and it was nothing uncommon to see occasional groups of
the men engaged in argument, which suddenly broke off at the appearance
of Darrell, or of Hathaway, the superintendent.
So engrossed was Mr. Underwood with the arrangement of details for the
inauguration of the new firm of Underwood & Walcott that he was unable
to be at the camp that week. On Saturday afternoon Darrell, having
learned that Hathaway was to be gone over Sunday, and believing it best
under existing circumstances not to leave the camp, sent Mr. Underwood a
message to that effect, and also informing him of the status of affairs
there.
Early the following week Mr. Underwood made his appearance at the camp,
and if the union bosses had entertained any hope of effecting a
compromise with the owner of Camp Bird, as it was known, such hope must
have been blasted upon mere sight of that gentleman's face upon his
arrival. Darrell himself could scarcely restrain a smile of amusement as
they met. Mr. Underwood fairly bristled with defiance, and, after the
briefest kind of a greeting, started to make his usual rounds of the
camp. He stopped abruptly, fumbled in his pocket for an instant, then,
handing a dainty envelope to Darrell, hastened on without a word.
Darrell saw smiles exchanged among the men, but he preserved the utmost
gravity until, having reached his desk, he opened and read the little
note. It contained merely a few pleasant lines from Kate, expressing
disappointment at his failure to come to The Pines on the preceding
Saturday, and reminding him of his promise concerning the violin; but
the postscript, which in true feminine style comprised the real gist of
the note, made him smile audibly. It ran:
"Papa has donned his paint and feathers this morning and is
evidently starting out on the war-path. I haven't an idea whose
scalps he intends taking, but hope you will at least preserve your
own intact."
At dinner Mr. Underwood maintained an ominous silence, replying in
monosyllables to any question or remark addressed to him. He soon left
the table, and Darrell did not see him again till late in the afternoon,
when he entered the laboratory. A glance at the set lines of his face
told Darrell as plainly as words that his line of action was fully
determined upon, and that it would be as fixed and unalterable as the
laws of the Medes and Persians.
"I am going home now," he announced briefly, in reply to Darrell's
somewhat questioning look; "I'll be back here the last of the week."
"What do you think of the outlook, Mr. Underwood?" Darrell inquired.
"It is about what I expected. I have seen all the men. They are, as I
supposed, under the thumb of the union bosses. A few of them realize
that the whole proposition is unreasonable and absurd, and they don't
want to go out, but they don't dare say so above their breath, and they
don't dare disobey orders, because they are owned, body and soul, by the
union."
"Have any of the leaders tried to make terms?"
"I met one of their 'walking delegates' this morning," said Mr.
Underwood, with scornful emphasis; "I told him to 'walk' himself out of
the camp or I'd boot him out; and he walked!"
Darrell laughed. Mr. Underwood continued: "The boarding-house opens on
Thursday; on next Monday every man not enrolled in that institution will
be ordered out."
"It's to be a strike then, sure thing, is it?" Darrell asked.
"Yes, there'll be a strike," Mr. Underwood answered, grimly, while a
quick gleam shot across his face; "but remember one thing," he added, as
he turned to leave the room, "no man ever yet got the drop or the first
blow on me!"
Matters continued about the same at the camp. On Friday favorable
reports concerning the new boarding-house began to be circulated,
brought the preceding evening by miners from another camp. Some of the
men looked sullen and defiant, others only painfully self-conscious, in
the presence of Darrell and the superintendent, but it was evident that
the crisis was approaching.
Late Friday night a horseman dismounted silently before the door of the
office building and Mr. Underwood walked quietly into Darrell's room.
"How's the new hotel? Overrun with boarders?" he asked, as he seated
himself, paying little attention to Darrell's exclamation of surprise.
"Chapman's men--about fifty in all--are the only ones there at present."
"Chapman!" ejaculated Mr. Underwood; "what is Chapman doing? He agreed
to stand in with the rest of us on this thing!"
"He told Hathaway this morning he was only doing it for experiment. The
boarding-house is located near his claims, you know, and he has
comparatively few men. So he said he didn't mind trying it for a month
or so."
"Confound him! I'll make it the dearest experiment ever he tried," said
Mr. Underwood, wrathfully; "he was in our office the other day trying to
negotiate a loan for twenty-five thousand dollars that he said he had
got to have within ten days or go to the wall. I'll see that he doesn't
get it anywhere about here unless he stands by his word with us."
After further conversation Mr. Underwood went out, saying he had a
little business about the camp to attend to. He returned in the course
of an hour, and Darrell heard him holding a long consultation with
Hathaway before he retired for the night.
The following morning the mill men of the camp, on going to their work,
were astonished to find the mill closed and silent, while fastened on
the great doors was a large placard which read as follows: