The feeling I had was that he had found out by letter from home or
somehow what kind of a trick I had cut up. Those glaring eyes hinted at
unutterable things. He must be in such a fury, I thought, that words had
failed him. He was waiting until he stepped foot in Levant to go at me
in proper style. Naturally, he would not start anything on a railroad
train. I sat there while those, thoughts flamed up in me like fire in a
brush-heap, and for a long time I found no handy extinguisher for those
thoughts.
However, there was a rather comforting packet in the breast pocket of my
frock-coat; I got out those contracts and went over them carefully.
I did have some visible emblems of success to stick up in front of his
sour face when it came to a showdown. But if Zebulon Kingsley was not
willing to start anything in public on a train, neither was I. I studied
my contracts, added figures, and tried to keep my mind off the big
trouble ahead. But who has ever sat near a bomb with a sputtering fuse
and felt in a mood for philosophy? I couldn’t even add figures!
The train bumped on and on. It was a long ride.
When we arrived at Levant Corners, I followed Kingsley so closely that
we almost walked in a lock-step. I had a sort of crazy notion that if he
started to bawl me out on the platform and expose me to the populace I’d
choke him and drag him off somewhere for an explanation, for I truly did
have a face to save in Levant.
I trod behind him on the station platform. Far up the platform was
waiting a man who wore a constable’s badge. I itched all over as we
approached that man; I fully expected that the judge would whirl and
point me out and call for my arrest. But the constable touched his hat
respectfully and the judge marched on. I almost bumped into him when he
stopped at hail of a citizen. I was forced to go on, then. The citizen
had buttonholed the judge on some matter of business, but by the few
words I heard I knew it was no affair of mine. I ran my eye over the
array of hitches waiting in the station yard, expecting to see Celene
Kingsley. But she was not there. Her absence hinted to me that her
father was not expected. Then he would ride on the stage! I resolved
to walk on and to hail it when it overtook me. I proposed to be on the
scene when Judge Kingsley got first peep at what had been his wood-lot.
I kept looking behind and noted that he walked past the stage-coach and
had started to foot it on my trail. Therefore he was not expected at
home, and for reasons of his own had decided to walk.
When I saw that the stage had come on without him and had observed that
he shook protesting hand at persons who stopped and offered a lift, I
walked on more briskly. He wanted to be left alone, then! His expression
had already hinted to me that he had no use for companionship at that
time.
At last I could hear my ax-men. Their blades were biting wood in lively
chorus, though the dusk was gathering. I realized that the spirit of
rivalry was in them and that they were not watching the clock on that
job. When I came in sight of the wood-lot I saw that a big expanse had
been cleared, down to the bushes; the bared land was thickly dotted with
wood which was tiered in cord lots. I hardly recognized the place.
The notion struck me that this was the proper strategic point to await
the battle. In the first place, I would not be obliged to waste any
breath in telling Zebulon Kingsley that his wood-lot was being cleared;
his eyes would inform him on that point. I could devote all my language
and energy to the job of enlightening him regarding my activities in
the matter, my hopes and his prospects of getting some money. Secondly,
considering strategy, my appearance before my men, accompanied by
Judge Kingsley, after I got him under control, would put the stamp
of authority on the whole affair; I believed I could control him. He
certainly would have to take the situation as he found it; he couldn’t
stick those trees back into the ground again.
Therefore I settled my plug-hat well on my head, pulled out my bunch of
contracts, and waited for him to come around the bend in the road.
I reflected that he had looked to me like a man who had a great deal of
trouble on his mind. In my young days, when old dog Bonny was dreadfully
afflicted with fleas I tied a tin can to his tail to take his mind off
his troubles. I believe fully that changing the current of his thoughts
for a time proved really restful to him.
It was certain that Judge Kingsley would have the current of his
thoughts changed in a very few minutes. He would have something entirely
fresh to think about, and I hoped it would do him good, even though I
received no thanks.
He seemed pretty much cast down when he shambled into sight, his
shoulders bowed, staring at the road ahead of him. But all at once he
straightened, threw back his head, and seemed to sniff the air.
“Charge!” I said to myself. And he set his elbows akimbo under his cape
and came at a trot.
He tried to rush past me on his way to the fence, but I stepped in front
of him and threw up my hands.
“Just a moment, Judge Kingsley! This is my business--”
“Your business be damned!” he stuttered.
Strong talk for a Sunday-school teacher, but it made him seem more human
and my courage rose a bit. I had not known how to tackle that frozen
figure he looked to be in the railroad train.
“But I’ll explain!”
“I’m going to find out what this set of infernal thieves--”
He wouldn’t wait any longer, though I was trying to head him off with my
arms outstretched. He drove past me and wrenched a post out of the fence
and started to climb into the wood-lot. There was only one thing to
do--I must get the upper hand of the infuriated old man before we
attracted the attention of my busy workers; the dusk was helping me in
that respect.
I pulled the stake from him, held him by his arms, and set my face close
to his; he was a scrawny old chap and he hadn’t any muscle left.
“Judge Kingsley, forgive me--but you must listen. It’s best for all
concerned. I have bought this lot from you and I am operating on it.”
I thought he would choke to death before he got the words wrenched out
of him.
“You haven’t bought it. You couldn’t buy it! There is no money passed.
There’s no deed. You’re a thief!”
I had dropped the bunch of contracts when I grabbed him. I released my
clutch on one arm and picked up the packet.
“Here’s something to show I am not a thief, sir. You’ve got to look at
’em. And the middle of the road is no place for our business.”
Furthermore, I noticed all at once that the choppers were giving up work
and starting for the highway.
Probably the most sensible way was for me to go along to his house,
exhorting him to keep his mouth shut till he understood the matter. But
a row with him in his own house would be exposing myself to Celene.
I held his arm and hurried him across the road and into the woods
opposite. He protested angrily, but I kept him on the move until we were
in a little clearing which the red western skies still lighted enough
for my purpose.
I flapped the contracts under his nose. “You advertised the land--you
gave me a price, Judge Kingsley. I know I have been irregular. I cannot
stop now to explain why, but I have sold all the wood. Here are the
contracts. Hunt up the men and make sure, if you don’t believe writing
and signatures. I’ll let you go and collect your two thousand dollars
before a dollar comes to me.” I shoved the papers into his hands and he
pawed them over without seeming to understand very well. “Contracts?”
“Yes, sir! Contracts with responsible concerns.”
“I’ll have you arrested,” he insisted, but his anger was dying out
and he sort of whined, “It’s my land; you haven’t any right to make
contracts.”
All at once his legs bent under him and he sat down on the ground. There
was plainly something special the matter with Zebulon Kingsley!
“Oh, my God!” he mourned. “Are all the blatherskites, thieves, and
swindlers in this world on my track?”
“Don’t tie any of those kind of tags on to me, Judge Kingsley. It isn’t
fair!”
“You have robbed me!”
“Confound it! Look at the contracts!” He did not seem to be taking any
interest in the papers; he merely waggled the packet about like a child
waving a rattle.
“First one, and then the other! They have robbed me. I am ruined!”
I squatted down in front of him and made him look at me. I was in the
mood for any kind of self-sacrifice. I wanted to beat it into his old
head that there was one man who was trying to help him.
“Judge Kingsley, listen to me! You are sure of getting your two thousand
dollars for your wood-lot. I say again, go yourself and collect the
money. If my estimates are in any way near right--and I reckon I am
inside the truth--there’s around a thousand dollars profit in this deal,
profit I was intending to take for myself. But, seeing that you feel as
you do about my actions, I’ll hand the whole thing over to you. Take
it all! Come to me in the morning when you’re feeling better and I’ll
explain my trade with Henshaw Hook and the choppers.”
He looked at me and never said a word.
“I don’t even ask any pay for the time I have put in,” I said, trying
to make myself as much of an angel as I could, now that I was started
on the savior trail. “You understand, don’t you? All you’ve got to do
is keep my promises to the men and pull down around three thousand in
cash!”
In a story-book that would have been his cue to get up and clasp me to
his breast. He simply blinked at me. I began to get a little warm in the
region of my neckband.
“If that’s the way you feel about it, Judge Kingsley,” I said,
straightening up, “I’ll bid you good evening. After you have tucked
your three thousand in your jeans, send me a bill for damages and I’ll
settle.”
He called me back before I had taken many steps.
“My head isn’t right,” he mumbled. “I have been having much trouble.
What have you been telling me?”
I went over the thing again, very patiently, for I saw I was dealing
with a case which was more serious than I thought. The night was on us
by that time. I tore strips of birch bark from a tree, lighted them one
by one, and made a torch so that he could examine one of the contracts.
Again I insisted that he must cake the whole thing over profits and all.
“I had no right to start in on your property as I did, Judge Kingsley.
So I’ll fine myself a thousand!”
“I think I ought to call you honest, young man,” he said, after a time.
“I have hard work to believe that any man is honest in this world just
now, but what you say sounds honest. I’ll meet you half-way in your
honesty.”
He asked me to hold more torches. He found a sheet of letter-paper in
his wallet, bearing his name printed at the top. He wrote a receipt for
two thousand dollars, using the long wallet for his desk.
“I have dated it four days back. Now that I have met you half-way in one
matter, young man, I ask you to meet me half-way in another. When you
get that, money in hand, pay it to my wife. Do not tell anybody that
you did not pay it to me.” He hesitated a moment. “As to the land--the
deed--”
“I have no use for the land, Judge Kingsley. So there’s no call for a
deed.”
“I think you are honest, young man. I believe I can trust you to give
the money to my wife--and say nothing about it outside!”
“But I can give it to you, sir, in a few days!”
“I expect to be away on business for some time,” he said, curtly. “Now
understand! Whatever questions are asked by anybody you must insist
that you paid that money to me. Your own interest requires it! Show the
receipt.”
“Forgive me for keeping you here so long in the dark and the cold, sir,”
I pleaded, realizing the situation all at once. “If you’ll let me call
on you to-morrow I’ll have something further to say about the matter of
the profits--but I won’t bother you any more to-night.”
“That’s right! Don’t bother me to-night.”