You can bet we all caught the one-o’clock train, and we enjoyed the ride
to the city, for all that we were going on such important business, and
for all of the fact that none of us had the least idea in the world what
we were going to do but Mark. He knew. You could tell by the way he
acted that he knew exactly, and was going to do it or bust. There was
just one surprise, and that was that Amassa P. Wiggamore got on the same
train. He didn’t see us, because he rode in the parlor-car and we rode
in the regular coach. Mark said he judged we’d see more of him before we
got back home again. We did.
When we got to the city we went to the hotel we knew about and got two
rooms, and then we had supper and walked around a little, looking in
windows and at folks on the street, and had a bully time. Mark set a
record for eating peanuts. He got away with three bags between seven
o’clock and nine, when we went to bed, and they were good big bags, too.
Each of us ate a bag, but he said it was his duty to eat just as much as
we did, so he had to have one for each of us.
He woke us up in the morning, and saw to it that when we dressed we
fixed up special and neat, because he let on that when you were going to
see big business men it made a heap of difference how you looked and
whether they got a good impression of you right off. He made me tie my
tie three times, and Binney had to comb his hair over, and Tallow had to
shine up his shoes. I got kind of scared on account of making such
preparations as that. I tell you things are pretty serious when a fellow
has to be as fussy as Mark seemed to be.
Anyhow, he got us dressed to suit him, and then we had breakfast, and
then we started out to an address that Mark had found out before he left
Wicksville. We walked, and it was quite a ways, but we knew there wasn’t
any use getting there too early. Our experience with the railroad men
proved that. We figured we would get there about nine o’clock, which we
did. But that was too early, so we went for another walk and got back at
ten.
Then we went up in the elevator to the tenth floor and got off, and Mark
led us along till we came to a door that said Middle-West Power Company
on it, and he turned the knob and walked right in as bold as brass. I
went right behind him, though I didn’t want to much, for I sort of
figured we’d get thrown out faster than we went in. But we didn’t.
There was a young lady at a desk and Mark asked her if the president was
in.
“President James is in a meeting of the board of directors,” she said,
as courteous as could be. “He’ll be busy some time. Can I do anything?”
“Board of directors of the P-Power Company?”
“Yes.”
“Better l-luck than I expected,” says Mark. “We want to see all of that
b-board of directors. How kin we m-manage it?”
“Why,” says she, “I’m afraid you can’t manage it! They’re pretty busy,
you know.”
“This is important—to t-t-them,” says Mark. “It’s about their dam and
p-p-power-plant to Wicksville. We own the dam and there’s other things
we’re mixed up in. We just _got_ to get to see them.”
“I wouldn’t dare let you in,” says she.
“Suppose you just l-l-look the other way, and we’ll walk in, anyhow,”
says Mark.
“I couldn’t do that,” she says.
“No,” says Mark, “I s’pose it wouldn’t be right.”
And just then in walks Wiggamore!
He gave one look at us and scowled. Then he marched right over to us and
says, as savage as a mean watch-dog, “Git out of here!”
“Not to-day,” says Mark. “We’re here on business.”
“Git out before I throw you out,” says Wiggamore. He raised his voice so
it was pretty loud, and Mark spoke back to him just a little louder, and
afterward I found out he did it on purpose. He wanted to be heard,
because he figured that was about the only way he would get into the
board meeting.
“I’m here on b-b-business with President James,” he said, “and I’m going
to stay. You won’t t-throw us out, Mr. Wiggamore, and you hadn’t better
try. You looked for trouble, and we’re here with it, and we’re goin’ to
see President James and don’t you forget it.” He lifted his voice a
little louder and almost hollered, “President James is the m-man we got
to see, and if he knew about the p-papers I got in my pocket he’d see us
mighty quick.”
“Hush!” says Wiggamore. “Don’t yell so in here.”
Just then a door opened and a great big man with shoulders as broad as a
house, and with white hair and a white mustache, and a face that looked
like it was carved out of a rock, but that you kind of took a liking to
right off, looked out. He looked cross. When I say you took a liking to
him, I don’t mean that exactly. I mean you felt a kind of a respect for
him. That’s the way he looked.
“Here, here!” says he. “What’s all this disturbance?”
“These boys,” says Wiggamore. “I can’t get rid of them.”
“So it seems, Wiggamore. What ails ’em?”
“They want to see you, sir,” said the young woman. “The noise really
wasn’t their fault.”
“It wasn’t, eh? Did you tell them I was in a board meeting?”
“Yes, and then they wanted to see the whole board. They come from
Wicksville.”
At that President James shot a kind of a look at us and stepped a little
closer.
“What about Wicksville?” says he.
Wiggamore interrupted. “These kids,” says he, “have been making a pest
of themselves there. I don’t know why they came here, but I’ll ’tend to
them. I’ll see they don’t disturb you any more.”
“Um!... Four boys don’t come ’way to the city from Wicksville and try to
break into a board meeting without there’s something back of it. We’ve
been talking about that Wicksville situation this morning, and if these
boys can clear it up any I’d like to talk to them. As for me, I don’t
understand it.”
“We kin clear it up a l-l-lot,” says Mark. “Just take us into that
meeting and l-l-let us tell you.”
“It’s nonsense,” says Wiggamore. “It’s some kind of a kid practical
joke.”
“Kids don’t joke like this,” says President James. “Come in, all of you.
If there’s nothing to it we won’t waste a great deal of time finding it
out.”
So in we went, and there were six men sitting around a table, looking
sour and impatient, and every one of them gave us a scowl as we came in.
Wiggamore came along.
“Gentlemen,” says President James, “here are four boys from
Wicksville—and Mr. Wiggamore. Maybe between them we can get some
satisfactory idea of what is happening there.”
“What have a crowd of kids to do with it?” said a fat man.
“I’m sure I don’t know. Best way to find out is to ask ’em,” says
President James. “What are you here for, boys?”
“To fight,” says Mark, just like that.
“Fight, eh? What for?”
“First for the p-p-principle of the thing, and then for our rights,”
says Mark.
“What principle, son?”
“Decent b-b-business,” says Mark.
“Um!... Decent business! What’s your name, young man? And why do you
mention a principle ahead of your rights?”
“My name’s Mark Tidd—Marcus Aurelius Fortunatus Tidd, and these
f-f-fellers are Tallow Martin, Plunk Smalley, and Binney Jenks. We put
p-p-principle first because it looks to us like it was consid’able more
important to see everything in the world done square than just to see
one little thing that concerns us done square.”
The men around the table kind of leaned forward and looked at Mark close
and interested.
“Go ahead,” says President James.
“I protest,” says Wiggamore. “These boys have got in my way, and they’re
here with lying stories about me. I protest against wasting our time
with a lot of kids.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t do that,” says President James. “It looks like they had
something to say, and I’m for listening to them. This Mark Tidd made an
interesting start.”
“Let ’em go ahead,” says the fat director, and he nodded to Mark.
“Well,” says Mark, slow and careful and sort of hand-picking every word
to get a good sound one without wormholes in it, “well, we got it into
our heads that the Middle-West Power Company must have honest men
runnin’ it, and that they wouldn’t be likely to stand for cheatin’ and
underhand work. We b-believed that business couldn’t go on if that
wasn’t so, and we come to find out. If it was so, we wanted to show you
how things goes on that you don’t understand about—that gits b-b-blamed
onto you and makes some f-folks think all business men is crooked.
That’s why we came.”
“Go ahead,” says President James. “Tell it to us.”
“We own the dam and mill in Wicksville,” says Mark, “and we and Silas
Doolittle Bugg have been runnin’ it.”
“Mark’s been the boss,” says I.
“That don’t m-matter. Well, we was r-runnin’ this mill to get Silas
Doolittle out of a hole. He didn’t know anythin’ about b-business, so we
took holt, and things was goin’ perty good till Mr. Wiggamore come to
town and wanted to git our dam. He come into the mill and wanted we
should give it to him. That was about it. And when we wouldn’t do that,
he started in to threaten us and to tell us he would t-t-take the dam
away from us anyhow.... That’s what he’s been t-t-tryin’ to do. Here’s a
few of the things he’s done, that we kin p-p-prove. He hired a man to
damage our m-machinery. He t-t-tried to buy up some debts of ours to use
’em to s-shut down the mill. He’s hired our men away so we couldn’t run.
He’s managed to get the f-f-factory inspector to close us down when
there wasn’t right or reason to it, and he’s found a couple of chattel
m-mortgages on machinery that Silas Doolittle forgot to tell us about,
and deputy sheriffs are in the mill now. That’s only a p-part. He
wouldn’t make us a f-f-fair offer, and he wouldn’t talk business. He
wanted to gouge us out of our mill. That’s the whole thing, and we kin
p-p-prove it.”
“Um!” says President James.
“It isn’t true,” says Wiggamore. “I’ve done none of those things. These
boys wanted the earth for their broken-down dam, and I couldn’t stand
for it. I knew you gentlemen wanted this thing done cheaply and quickly,
and I’ve been doing my best. They wanted some silly sum of money, and I
wouldn’t listen to them.”
“So you told us. What did you want, young men?”
“Here’s our p-p-pickle,” says Mark. “We own that m-m-mill and dam. The
mill hain’t worth a cent with the dam gone. We said Mr. Wiggamore ought
to buy the m-mill, too, at a reasonable price, and he wouldn’t l-listen.
I guess he’d _rather_ do things crooked than straight.”
“Wiggamore hasn’t done anything,” the fat man whispered to the man next
him. “That dam is vital and the site for the power-house below it is
vital. He hasn’t got results either place.”
“So,” says Mark, “we come here to f-f-fight. We know what we’re entitled
to and we’re goin’ to git it.”
“In ten days, gentlemen,” says Wiggamore, “I can promise you the dam at
a cost of only a few hundred dollars.”
“You can _not_,” says Mark.
“The mill is bankrupt. It is closed down now never to open again.”
“You did that,” says Mark, “but it will open again, and it will s-s-stay
open, and you won’t n-never git our dam till we say so. We’re here to
l-listen to any fair offer. But we’re in a p-p-position to m-make
demands, and if we’re f-forced, why, we’ll make ’em!”
[Illustration: “YOU WON’T NEVER GET OUR DAM TILL WE SAY SO”]
“Say, Wiggamore, you tell us we can have the dam in ten days, but how
about the site for the power-house?”
“That is owned by a deaf old maid and her brother that is a fugitive
from justice for stealing a hog. She won’t talk business without him,
and he can’t be found. I’ve had men looking for him, but we can’t locate
him. That is a trifling matter, and will be straightened up the minute
George Piggins is found.”
“Um!...” The fat man turned to Mark and says: “You say you are in a
position to force us to your terms if you want to. That sounds like
talking pretty big, for a kid. What do you mean by it?”
“I mean just this, sir, that if I’m wrong about you men, and you aren’t
b-big and square and honest like I think, why, I’m g-goin’ to git all I
kin out of you, and I’ve got a way to do it!”
President James looked at Mark mighty interested, and sort of smiled to
himself, and says: “Mark Tidd, for the minute make believe we are a pack
of dirty business men. What can you do to us?”
“Bust up your whole p-p-power development on that river or m-make you
pay what I ask.”
“How?”
“Why,” says Mark, “I’ve f-found George Piggins, and I’ve got a l-legal
option to your p-power site signed by him and his sister. You can go
ahead with b-bustin’ our mill, and you kin t-take our dam, but we got
your power site. That’s how I’ll do what I said.”
Every man there turned like their heads was all connected, to look at
Wiggamore, and Wiggamore looked at Mark like he was seeing a ghost.
“I don’t believe it,” says he.
“I don’t ask you to,” says Mark.
“Have you that option with you, Mark?” says President James.
“Yes, sir.”
“Will you let me see it? Can you trust me that much?”
“Certainly, sir. I haven’t had any doubt from the m-m-minute I saw you.”
“Thank you,” says President James, and Mark handed him the option. He
read it careful and passed it along to the others. Then he turned to
Wiggamore, and his face was set and stern.
“So this is the way you’ve been working?” says he. “We hire you to do a
job, and you go out and create a situation like this. You stoop to
trickery and meanness, and let a whole community get the idea that you
have our support and countenance in such ways. I have suspected it. I’ve
suspected it in other cases—but I shall never have to worry about you
again. You are through with us, Mr. Wiggamore. The Middle-West Power
Company employs decent men only. I’m ashamed to have been associated
with you. I’m ashamed of what people must think of me, of what you have
made people think of me.... It doesn’t pay, Mr. Wiggamore. Here you have
been tricky and crooked, and you have been beaten, and beaten badly by a
boy. He has _done_ you. Besides being a trickster and a disgrace to
decent business, you are incompetent. Your connection with this company
is severed from this instant. Good day, sir.”
“He means you’re fired, Wiggamore,” said the fat man, “and with the
approval of the whole board. Now get. You’re lucky to get off as easy as
you are. If I had my way—”
But Wiggamore was gone. He turned and almost ran out of the room, and
that was the last we ever saw of him.