That afternoon, in coming from a lawyer's office, Saunders saw Tom
Drake standing in the crowd which was always gathered at the
intersection of Whitehall and Marietta streets. Falling back unobserved
into a tobacconist's shop on the corner, the young man looked out and
watched the mountaineer. With hands in his pockets, Drake stood eying
the jostling human current, a disconsolate droop to his lank form, a
far-off stare in his weary eyes.
"He has tried and given up already," Saunders reflected. "Dolly knows
him better than he knows himself. This is no place for a man like him.
He is homesick, poor chap! He counts himself the most unfortunate man
on earth, and yet he is the most blessed, for he is her father. How can
he look at her, hear her voice, and not burn with triumphant pride? Her
father! If I only dared, I'd treat him as I'd treat my own father, but
she would resent it. It would hurt her feelings. I have to consider
her. She didn't quite like what I did for George; but, no matter, I'm
going to speak to him."
Therewith Saunders skirted the thickest part of the surging mass and
suddenly came upon Drake, who, in order to be out of the way of
pedestrians with more purpose than himself, had stepped back against
the wall of the building. Their eyes met. Drake's wavered sheepishly,
but he took the hand cordially extended, and made an effort to appear
at ease.
"I saw Dolly this morning," Saunders began. "She told me you came down
with her."
"Yes, I thought--I thought I might as well." Drake's lips quivered. "I
reckon she told you that I am sorter strikin' out on a new line?"
"She said something about it." Saunders felt that the topic was a
delicate one. "I hope you are finding an--an opening to your liking."
Drake was chewing tobacco, and he spat awkwardly down at his side.
There was a certain timidity in the man for one so bold as he had been
in his own field of life among rough men of crude acts and habits.
"I've looked about some," he said, a flush creeping into his tanned
cheeks. "I've been to the machine-shops and to two or three contractin'
carpenters. They all said they was full up with hands--men waitin' on
their lists for times to improve. Buildin' is slow right now, an'
expert hands already on the spot get the pick of the jobs. Machinery is
stealin' the bread out of the workin'-man's mouth. A machine takes the
place of twenty men in many cases."
"I see, I see," Saunders said. "The country, after all, is the best
place for a man brought up on a farm."
Drake, thrown off his guard, sighed openly. "I reckon you are right,"
he agreed. "To tell you the truth, Saunders, I don't think I'm goin' to
land anything on this trip, and it makes a feller feel sorter sneakin'
to go back empty-handed. I put my judgment up against all the rest.
George, Dolly, and her mother, an' even John Webb, tried to get me to
listen to their advice, but not me! Oh no, I was runnin' it! I reckon
I'm bull-headed. Le'me tell you some'n'. I'd go back an' hire out to
George as a day-laborer if I didn't have more pride than brains. He
needs hands. He told me so. You are makin' a man out o' him, Saunders,
an' I want to thank you."
"What have you got to do just now?" Saunders asked. "Couldn't you go to
the bank with me?"
Drake hesitated. His color deepened. He avoided Saunders's tentative
gaze. "I reckon I won't, to-day, anyway," he faltered. "I never was
much of a hand to hang about big places o' business."
"Then suppose we step into the lobby of the Kimball House; it is close
by," Saunders suggested. "There are some seats there, and we could sit
down for a few minutes. The truth is, I want to ask your advice about
my plantation. You are better posted up there than I can be, staying
here as much as I do."
"Oh, that's different!"
A look of relief swept over the rugged face. "I only wish I could help
you some, no matter how little. You did me the biggest favor once that
ever one man did another. When you jerked me back from the train that
night and forced me to behave myself you saved me from no end o' shame
an' trouble. La, me! I've thought of that a thousand times."
"Don't mention it." Saunders was touched by the deep surge of gratitude
in the despondent voice. "If I had not been a great friend of yours and
of your family, I would not have dared to act as I did. But that is
past and gone."
"Not with me--a thing like that never passes with me," Drake answered,
as they crossed the street and entered at the side door of the hotel.
They found some unoccupied chairs in a quiet part of the big office.
The clerks behind the counter were busy assigning rooms to a throng of
passengers from an incoming train. A dozen negro porters and bell-boys
were rushing to and fro. The elevators were busy. The tiled floor
resounded with the scurrying of active feet. Saunders saw the
mountaineer watching the scene with the lack-luster stare he had caught
in his eyes a few minutes before.
"You said you wanted to ask me something about your place," Drake
suddenly bethought himself to say.
"Yes, it is like this. You know my manager, Hobson, of course?"
"Yes, pretty well," Drake made reply, slowly. "That is, as well as any
of us mountain men do. He never has been much of a chap to mix with
other folks. To tell you the truth, most of us think he is stuck up.
Well, I reckon he has a right to be. He gets darn good wages. Nobody
knows exactly what he makes, but it is reported that you give 'im
fifteen hundred a year. He has saved most of it, and has turned his
pile over till there isn't any telling how much the feller is worth."
"Yes, I am paying him fifteen hundred," Saunders said, lowering his
voice into one of confidential disclosure. "I want to talk to you about
him, and I know you will help me if you can. He has, as you say, laid
up money, and he has recently established a warehouse business at
Ridgeville. For the last month he has scarcely been at my plantation
half a dozen times."
"I noticed that," Drake said, "but he told me that he had it fixed so
that he could be at both places often enough to keep things in shape.
He is a good business man, and I reckon he will do what he contracts."
"But I am not at all satisfied as it is," Saunders answered. "I am
thinking of disposing of my bank interest and settling down up there
for good, and I'd like to have a manager with whom I can be in touch
every day. I am interested in farming myself, and I don't want my
manager to have too many irons in the fire. The trouble with Hobson is
that he is now giving his best thought and energy to his own business."
"I see," Drake said. "Well, that's accordin' to human nature, I reckon.
They say Hobson speculates in grain an' cotton, an' when a feller gets
to playin' a game as excitin' as that it is hard for 'im to get down to
humdrum matters."
Saunders linked his hands across his knee, and looked down at the floor
for a moment in silence. He seemed to be trying to formulate something
more difficult to express than what he had already touched upon.
"The truth is," he plunged, suddenly--"just between you and me, in
confidence, I was compelled to speak to him about the matter the other
day; and, to my surprise, he told me bluntly that as he was now placed
he would not care to give full time to the management of my affairs. He
has his sights pretty high. He is making money rapidly, and he feels
independent."
"Good Lord! You don't mean that he would throw up the job?" Drake
exclaimed, in astonishment. "He's a fool, a stark, starin' fool. Why, I
never heard o' the like! It is by all odds the best berth in our
county."
"He is to quit on the first of next month," Saunders said, "and that is
what I want to see you about. The truth is that--well, I've had _you_
in mind for some time, and I was rather disappointed when I heard you
were thinking of getting work down here. You are the very man I want
for the place, if you will do me the favor of accepting it."
The stare of astonishment in the eyes of the mountaineer became a fixed
glare of almost childlike incredulity. So profound was his surprise
that he was unable to utter a word. His hand, suddenly quivering as
with palsy, went to his tobacco-stained lips and stayed there for a
moment. Then his imprisoned voice broke loose.
"You can't mean that, Jarvis--you can't, surely you can't!"
"Yes, I do," Saunders responded, drawn into the other's emotional
current. "I want a man who is popular with the people, and you have
hundreds of friends. If--if you accept I'd like for you to remain here
in Atlanta for a week at least, to help me buy some implements and
supplies."
"_If_ I accept--_if!_" Drake laughed at the sheer absurdity of the
word. "Do I look like a fool? Just now I was ready to go back home,
ashamed to look my family in the face because I couldn't find work at a
dollar a day, and my board to pay out of it, and now--now--" The voice
faltered and broke.
"Well, it is settled, then," Saunders said, in relief.
"As far as I am concerned, it is." Drake cleared his husky throat. "I
know the sort of work you want done up there, and I can do it. I can
get as much out of hands as anybody else, and you sha'n't lose by it;
by God, you sha'n't!"
"Well, come to see me at the bank in the morning." Saunders rose.
"You've taken a load off my shoulders. I was worried about it."