9156
T [148] was on an October morning that Vance started for Waterville. A
light frost the night before had made the air sharp and crisp. The frost
disappeared, however, before the genial warmth of the rising sun, while
the russet leaves grew brownerer and as the wind stirred them, sang
brokenly of old age.
October is the scenic month in the mountains. You seem to stand in
Nature’s picture gallery. The box-alder leaves are as changeable in
color as a blushing maiden. From the low foothills on up the sides of
the mountains to the timber line, the elms, the box-alders, and poplars
grow in profusion. The leaves vary in color from the deepest green to
the brightest scarlet, the most golden yellow, or the somberest brown.
The colors are intermingled in this gorgeous panoramic scene with a
charm and beauty that baffles the most skilled artist’s touch to
reproduce on canvas.
Vance was seated beside Steve Gibbons on the top of the stage coach, as
they whirled along in meditative silence. The evening before Louise
had sung for him. It was music fit for the gods—so rich, so deep, so
plaintively low, so fascinating. He could see her even now, standing
on the wide old porch as she bade him good-bye. [149] The mild October
breeze that stirred the ringlets of her golden hair seemed laden with
worshipers of hope for Vance, the lover, and he interpreted her every
word and smile as a token reciprocal of his own deep love.
Presently Vance was brought back from his day dreams to the present by
Steve Gibbons remarking:
“Things ain’t so powerful brisk down at Waterville jes’ now.”
“Why, how is that?’ asked Vance.
“Oh, I dunno,” replied Gibbons, as he waked up his leaders with a
spirited crack of his whip, “can’t say jes’ what is the matter.
But I can tell ye one thing, pardner,” he went on, “I’m mighty
glad I’m not in the real estate business. In my opinion, them real
estate agents down thar will be jumpin’ sideways for a sandwich before
the winter’s over.”
Vance was noticeably depressed by Gibbons’ remarks. He was going
to Waterville for the express purpose of disposing of his New York
friends’ property, in which they had invested on his recommendation.
He cared very little about his own investment. He was willing to wait,
or even to lose it all, if he could only prevent them from sustaining
loss on their purchase.
It was late that night when they reached Waterville. Vance was delighted
to find that Homer Winthrop was registered at the hotel. They met the
following morning at the breakfast table. The conduct of the usually
polite and entertaining Winthrop was changed to a sternness for which
Vance was at a loss to account. As they arose from the table, Vance
went out with Winthrop and asked him how he was progressing in the lot
selling business.
“How am I progressing?” repeated Winthrop, as he [150] turned and
looked coldly at Vance. “I am through. I have left Butte City for
good.”
“Why, how is that?” asked Vance in some surprise. Winthrop was
silent for a moment, and then replied: “It is rather strange, Mr.
Gilder, for you to ask such a question after writing the article you
did for that New York paper. The Inter Mountain Blade and the Butte
City Miner both copied the letter. It is hardly necessary for me to
observe,” he went on, “that it rendered it impossible for me to sell
another lot in Butte City. Those who had purchased became so infuriated
that I deemed it best for personal safety to leave the town.”
Saying this, Winthrop turned abruptly and left Vance, who was for a
moment unable to make a reply. Homer Winthrop’s words both astonished
and chilled him.
A little later he visited the Town Company’s office, where he found
Marcus Donald, the resident director, and Homer Winthrop in deep
consultation. Donald was a man of commanding presence. His associates
often remarked that Marcus Donald’s face was worth $10,000 in
an important trade of any kind. He was dignified and commanding in
appearance, and when one talked with him, the most skeptical fell
into the habit of believing every word that fell from his lips. Vance
discovered that he was not wanted, but he determined to vindicate
himself, and said:
“Gentlemen, pardon me for interrupting, but I must ask your indulgence
for a few moments. I wish you would read this article. I am humiliated
enough without any further complications or misunderstandings.”
He handed [151] Marcus Donald a copy of the Banner. Donald adjusted his
gold-rimmed spectacles and read aloud the entire article, “Two Western
Towns.” When he had concluded, Vance turned toward Winthrop.
“Is that the letter you referred to?”
0159
“Why, yes,” said Winthrop, “but how is this?” said he, picking
up the paper. “The Butte City papers published only that part of the
article referring to Waterville; but how came you to write such a letter
at all, Mr. Gilder? You certainly know there is not a syllable of truth
in it from beginning to finish.”
Vance looked first at Winthrop and then at Donald, [152] and replied,
“I did not write it.” He then proceeded to give them a history of
his dismissal.
“This was written,” tapping the paper with the back of his hand,
“evidently to counteract the influence and effect of what I had
written the week before.”
“Of course that puts it in a different light,” said Donald, rising
and extending his hand to Vance. “I could not believe it possible that
you, Mr. Gilder, could be guilty of writing such a libelous article as
this is.”
Winthrop also accepted the explanation as eminently satisfactory, and
sympathized with Vance in the loss of his position on the great New York
daily.
“It has completely killed the lot selling business for me in Butte
City,” said he, “but fortunately for us, we have made some very
excellent sales during the past few weeks, and the Town Company’ has
sufficient money in the treasury to pay all its debts, and the last
obligation will be paid off before twelve o’clock to-day.”
“Yes,” said Marcus Donald, “they will all be paid off, but it will
leave the treasury in a depleted condition; but the future, I
believe, is all right. I hope you will not lose faith, Mr. Gilder, in
Waterville’s prospects.”
“No,” said Vance, “I have unbounded faith in Waterville, but I
would like very much to have the Town Company, if possible, return the
$2,500 which I invested for my New York friends. It would save me much
embarrassment if I could return them their money’. They doubtless know
I have been dismissed from the force, and have read this last article,
which puts an entirely’ different coloring on this western country’
from what I represented.”
[153] “You must know,” said Winthrop, “that what you seek is next to
impossible. The money has been paid into the treasury, and no difference
how friendly I personally feel toward you, or how much the resident
director, Mr. Donald, may wish to return the money, it cannot possibly
be done without an action of the directors.”
At this juncture, Marcus Donald invited Vance to take a scat by his
desk, and he would explain to him carefully and fully the situation, and
believed he could prove to him conclusively why he was acting for his
New York friends’ best interests in leaving the investment as it was.
8161
Donald produced a great many maps and carefully spread them out on the
table, adjusted his spectacles carefully, and with his $10,000 face
looked squarely into Vance’s, and proceeded to go over the old, old
story of the unlimited natural resources of the valley. He discussed at
length, and in a very entertaining and convincing manner, the number
of acres of land already in cultivation, the probable annual increase
acreage of farm land; figured out results that amounted to millions of
dollars. He then carried Vance from one side of the map to the other,
up to the top, then down to the bottom and back again to the point where
they had first started; indeed, he quite enthused Vance in regard to the
future prospects and final outcome of Waterville.
He also confirmed Winthrop’s statement in regard to their inability
to take any money out of the treasury for [154] the purpose suggested
without first having an action of the directors.
“I advise you to write to your New York friends,” continued Donald,
“and tell them their investment is all right, if—mark, I say
if—they have the nerve to stay with it a year or such a matter. Of
course this article in the Banner hurts us immensely. It is simply
a highhanded piece of boycotting; but the west has received similar
injustice at the hands of the great New York dailies times without
number in years gone by.”
Acting on Marcus Donald’s advice, Vance wrote a letter that day to
his New York friends, and afterwards felt better for having done so. He
determined to remain a week or two at Waterville, and see if there was
any demand for real estate. Before many days, he began to understand the
wonderful, far-reaching effects of the late article in the Banner. Rival
surrounding towns copied it, and with double-leaded editorials called
attention to a town that had over-reached itself. They denounced the
various members of the Waterville Town Company as villainous sharks, and
predicted that the boom had been pricked with a needle that would let
all the wind out of it.
The transient class of real estate agents and hangers-on, who had been
doing a rather thriving business, said, “Boys, this ends it,” as
they blew the foam from their glasses of beer, “we might as well go
somewhere else as wait and see the dog-fennel grow in the streets of
Waterville.”
One day Vance called on J. Arthur Boast at his office. He found him
as elegantly dressed as ever, and engaged in tying up bundles of legal
papers, deeds, contracts, etc. [155] “Are you getting ready to move away
from Waterville?” asked Vance.
“No, I am not going away; that is, not permanently,” replied Boast,
as he stooped to brush a speck of dust from his highly polished shoes,
“but I do not presume we will have any use for deeds or contracts for
some time to come, and I am therefore putting them away out of the dust
until the boom opens up again.”
“You talk a little discouragingly,” said Vance.
“Discouragingly!” said Boast, as he seated himself on the table in
front of Vance. “Discouragingly! Why, didn’t I tell you the Town
Company would ruin Waterville? I was away only two weeks visiting, as
you know, at Gold Bluff, but while I was gone they inflated prices of
property; made promises right and left that were quite impossible for
them to fulfill. The newspapers all over the country are denouncing
them, and the result of it is that Waterville is dead! I say dead, and I
mean dead, and all on account of the Town Company.”
“Do you suppose,” asked Vance, “that you could possibly’ sell my
twenty-five lots?”
Boast looked absently’ out of the window and said, “I might sell
them in time by putting them on my special bargain list.”
“At what price?” Vance ventured to ask.
“Let me see,” said Boast, “you paid $2,500 for them, did you
not?”
“Yes,” replied Vance.
“Oh, well,” said Boast, “I might be able to get $500 for them, but
it would be a pretty green sort of a tenderfoot that I could load them
on at even that price. But what’s the use,” said he, facing around
toward Vance [156] and still sitting on the table, “what’s the use
of losing your nerve? Within one or two years Waterville will be all
right. She can’t be kept down. She has natural resources; the richest
farm lands in the world; the greatest water power of any inland city in
the United States; marvelous veins of coal; inexhaustible quarries
of rock; unsurpassed forests of timber; and abundance of water for
irrigating purposes.
8164
Why, dang it, old fellow,” said he, slapping Vance on the shoulder,
“Waterville s all right. All you’ve got to do is to hold on to your
nerve and your lots, and you will come out on top.”
“That’s all very well,” replied Vance, “but the ray of hope you
hold out is too far away to be very satisfactory at the present time.”
“Every tenderfoot,” replied Boast, “needs a certain amount of
experience in order to acclimate him to this western country. Your
experience is just now beginning. After a little Colonel Bonifield
will strike it rich on Gray Rocks, Waterville will also come out of the
kinks, and there you are, a rich man. By the way, the Colonel must be
pretty well along toward the 400 foot level, Waterville will also come
out of the kinks, and there you are, a rich man. By the way, the Colonel
must be pretty well along toward the 400 foot level, is he not:”
“I believe he is making very satisfactory progress,” replied Vance.
“If the old man should strike it rich,” said Boast, “I would not
mind connecting myself with his family. Of course, I am not so hard to
please as you New York fellows.” He looked archly at Vance and smiled
wickedly as he made this remark.
Vance was indignant at the cold-blooded insinuation of Boast, and
replied: [157] “While you may have no objections, I don’t doubt you
will meet some pretty knotty ones before you succeed in winning Miss
Bonifield.”
“Possibly,” replied Boast, coolly. “Nevertheless, if the old
Colonel strikes it in Gray Rocks, it’s worth a trial, anyway; but
come, there’s no use in quarreling over something that hasn’t
happened, or being down-hearted about a busted boom, so long as a fellow
has a bottle of red liquor.”
Vance did not wait for him to go through the ordeal of condemning
himself as a drunken profligate, but let him to finish tying up his
papers and drink the contents of his bottle alone.