STORMONT DISOWNS A DEBT
The general store was empty, and Drummond, leaning on the counter,
frowned as he glanced at the clock. It was a few minutes after the time
for closing and he had been busily occupied all day. Besides, he had an
engagement at the pool-room and thought he would be late. If so, a man
whom he knew he could beat would probably begin a game with somebody
else, and he would miss an opportunity of winning two or three dollars.
This was annoying, because Drummond needed the money, but he had other
grounds for feeling dissatisfied.
Keeping store was monotonous and rather humiliating work that left one
very little time for amusement. He could drive a fast horse as well as
other young men he met up town, play a clever card game, and beat his
friends at pool. His talents were obviously wasted in measuring
dry-goods and weighing flour. Moreover, since meeting Stormont he had
been extravagant and got into debt. There was no need to be economical
when he had been promised a share in a rich mining claim.
Then he wondered with misgivings what the farmer who had gone into the
back office was talking about, and hearing angry voices, felt sorry he
had made some alterations in the man's order. Certain stale goods
carried a commission if the salesman could work them off, but the thing
needed tact and a knowledge of the customer's temper. Drummond feared he
had been imprudent.
In the meantime, he looked about the store with a feeling of disgust.
The long room, with its cracked, board walls and dusty floor, was
uncomfortably warm, and smelt of hot iron, dry-goods, and old cheese.
Drummond had neglected to regulate the draught when he filled the rusty
stove, and now felt that one could not expect a spirited young man to
spend his days in such a place. Anyhow, it was after closing time, and
sitting on the counter he lighted a cigarette, letting it stick to his
under lip. This was the latest fashion and gave one a sporting look.
Soon after he began to smoke, the farmer came out of the office.
"You can send for the truck when you like; I've no use for goods like
that," he said. "Next time you pack me a dud lot I'll cut out your
account. If you and the sporting guy who's sitting on your counter
thought me a sucker, I guess I've put you wise!"
He went down the steps into the street, and the lean, hard-faced
storekeeper turned to Drummond with an ominous frown.
"Get off that counter! You make me tired to look at you, with your dude
clothes and a cigar-root hanging out of your mouth. Throw the blamed
thing away and put up the canned stuff you left about."
Drummond felt tempted to refuse, but his employer's eye was on him and
he obeyed sullenly.
"When you've finished, you can clean up that row of shelves," the other
resumed. "Then stack the flour and sugar bags where they're kept. Guess
you reckoned to leave the truck all night where the transfer man dumped
it. If you can't serve a customer, I'll see you keep the store
straight!"
Drummond imagined the work would occupy him for an hour and might spoil
his clothes. Besides, if he gave way, his employer might make fresh
encroachments on his evenings, and he thought the fellow wanted to goad
him to revolt.
"No, sir," he said. "It's closing time. I'm going to quit."
"If you quit now, you quit for good! Don't know why I've kept you,
anyway!"
"I know," said Drummond, who resolved to be firm. If his employer really
meant to get rid of him, he risked nothing, but if not, he might win
some advantage. "You couldn't get another clerk to take my job for the
wages you pay."
"Well," said the other grimly, "I'm willing to try. It's a sure thing I
couldn't get a man who'd muss up the store like you. Come to me for your
money and light out when you like."
He went out, banging the door, and Drummond sat down, rather limply, on
a dry-goods bale. After all, it was something of a shock to find himself
dismissed, but in a few minutes he gathered confidence. Stormont had
given him fifty dollars and promised him a share in the silver mine, and
although he had soon spent the money, he would go to Winnipeg, ask for
another payment, and see what progress the fellow was making. If the
vein had not yet been located, Stormont would, no doubt, find him a job.
In fact, the only trouble was that when he had bought his ticket he
would not have enough money left to pay his bill at the boarding-house.
Four days later, he left the town, and reaching Winnipeg one afternoon,
began to inquire about Stormont in the great, domed, marble-paved
waiting-room. To his surprise, the officials he questioned knew nothing
about the man, and when one sent him to the inquiry office, the
fashionably dressed lady clerk was ignorant. She, however, threw a
directory on the counter and told him haughtily that he could look for
the address.
Drummond found it, and walking along Main Street, turned up Portage
Avenue. There was a block of traffic at the corner where the broad roads
cross, and close by a crowd had gathered to read the bulletins on the
front of a newspaper office. Stopping for a few minutes, Drummond
studied the row of tall buildings, but saw that the number he wanted was
farther on. There was, however, an imposing block some distance ahead,
but this turned out to be a huge department store, and afterwards the
buildings got smaller and plainer. It began to look as if Stormont was
not as important a man as he had thought, and he was conscious of some
disappointment as he went on until he stopped where private houses,
workshops, and shabby stores ran out towards Deer Park. Then he found
the number and entered a narrow, dingy building.
It was obvious that Stormont had studied economy when he chose his
office, and Drummond stopped and hesitated on a landing opposite a door
that badly needed painting. He began to think he had been rash in
leaving his post in the Ontario town, but nerving himself with the
reflection that he had a share in a silver vein, knocked at the door.
Somebody told him to come in, and he walked into a small room.
The dirty walls were hung with plans of building lots and surveys of the
forest belt in Eastern Manitoba. A glass partition ran up the middle and
on one side Watson sat in front of a typewriter. He looked at Drummond
with surprise, but did not get up.
"Well," he said, "why have you come to town? Have you got a week off, or
have you got fired?"
"You ought to know what I've come about, but I want to see the boss,"
Drummond rejoined.
"That's easy, anyhow," said Watson, with a grin Drummond did not like,
and indicated a door in the partition.
Drummond opened the door and saw Stormont sitting at a table covered
with papers. He looked up and nodded coolly.
"Hallo!" he said. "Mr. Drummond, isn't it? Sit down for a few minutes."
Then picking up a letter, he knitted his brows. He did not think
Drummond could give him much trouble, but he might become something of a
nuisance unless he was dealt with firmly. Stormont had not long since
come back from the North, feeling disappointed and savage, for he had
spent a good deal of money on the expedition. Besides, things had gone
wrong at the office while he was away and he had lost some profitable
business.
"What can I do for you?" he asked by and by.
"I've left the store," said Drummond. "Thought I'd locate in Winnipeg.
One has better chances in the big cities, and I reckoned you could find
me a job. Anyhow, I'll need some money."
"That's a sure thing. But why did you come to me for it?"
"You gave me fifty dollars--"
"When did I give you fifty dollars?" Stormont interrupted with a look of
surprise.
"The evening Watson took me to your room at the Dufferin House. Besides,
you promised me a share in the mine."
Stormont smiled. "That accounts for the thing! I'm afraid you were
drunker than I thought."
"You did give me the money," Drummond insisted. "Are you trying to go
back on your promise?"
"Oh, well," said Stormont with an indulgent smile, "in order to satisfy
you, we'll ask Watson." He knocked on the partition and turned to the
clerk as the latter came in. "Mr. Drummond states that I gave him fifty
dollars on the evening you brought him to the Dufferin House. Do you
remember anything about it?"
"Certainly not," said Watson. "You gave him a cigar and some liquor,
though I thought he'd had enough. He fell down the stairs afterwards and
made trouble for me when I saw him home." Watson paused and resumed with
a meaning smile: "It's pretty hard to remember what happens when you've
got on a big jag!"
Drummond colored angrily, but pulled himself together. "I remember I got
the money and told Mr. Stormont about the ore."
"Now I come to think of it, you did tell me a curious story about a
mysterious silver lode," Stormont agreed. "Somewhere in the North,
wasn't it? Anyhow, I didn't give the thing much attention. You can hear
tales of that kind in any miners' saloon."
"That's so," Watson supported him. "Sometimes we hear them in this
office when a crank prospector comes along. All the same, they're not
business propositions."
"You promised me a share in the mine," Drummond declared, and added with
dark suspicion: "I guess you found the ore."
Stormont laughed ironically. "Cut it out, Mr. Drummond! It's a sure
thing I haven't found a silver lode."
"If you're going to turn me down, I'll try somebody else."
"I can't object. In fact, I dare say Watson will give you the addresses
of some people who speculate on mining claims. But you mustn't be
disappointed if they fire you out."
Drummond's face got red and he clenched his fist, for he had already
told his tale to people who heard it with amused incredulity.
"You promised you would make me rich and I've thrown up my job! I've got
about five dollars and don't know what to do!"
"Well," said Stormont coolly, "there's an employment agent a few blocks
up the street and as trade's pretty good it's possible he can find you a
post. That's about the only thing I can think of and I'm occupied just
now--"
Drummond stopped him with a savage gesture and walked out of the room.
"We have fixed him; I guess he won't bother us again," Stormont
remarked.
After leaving the office, Drummond wandered moodily along the avenue and
presently came to a square, past which rows of pretty wooden houses
surrounded by poplars, ran towards the river bank. The snow had gone,
the afternoon was warm, and finding a bench in the sun, he sat down to
think. His character was complex and his thoughts involved, for he had
inherited something from ancestors of different type. A touch of Indian
vanity and French expansiveness was balanced by his father's Scottish
caution and the Indian's stolid calm. Sometimes he was rash and
impulsive, and sometimes strangely patient, but he seldom forgot an
injury.
It was obvious that he had been cheated and in the meantime could get no
satisfaction for the wrong he had been done. What he knew about the
silver ore was worth something while he alone had the secret, but now he
had told somebody else its value had disappeared. It was, however, a
comfort to reflect that he had not been altogether frank with Stormont;
he had kept something back that would be a useful guide when one looked
for the creek. His recollection of this was hazy, but he would think
about it later.
On the whole, Drummond thought Stormont had not found the ore. A hint of
anger in his ironical amusement implied that he had come back
disappointed; and if he imagined he had got on the right track, he
would, no doubt, have been willing to pay another fifty dollars. For all
that, Watson and Stormont had plotted to win his confidence, make him
drunk, and find out all he knew, and this indicated that the fellow
thought the vein worth looking for. When Stormont got over his
disappointment he would try again.
Drummond saw that he could embarrass Stormont by selling the secret he
had been cheated of to somebody else. It was amusing to think of two
parties looking for the vein; the difficulty was that he did not know
anybody likely to be a buyer. But he could wait, since it looked as if
he had put Stormont off the track, and by and by he might find a
speculator willing to believe his tale. Sooner than let Stormont locate
the vein he would give, for nothing, any antagonist of the latter's all
the help he could.
Then he remembered that he had only a few dollars and must find some
work soon. Supper would not be served at the cheap hotels for an hour
yet and he set off to look for an employment agent. The man charged a
dollar and gave him a card with an address, remarking that Drummond
ought to get a job, as business was good. Drummond went back up the
avenue, and presenting the card at a big store, was engaged for a week
and promised a post afterwards if the department boss was satisfied.