"What a marvellous country! Why, Grace, one of our firm, at the old
store, boasted of having a chimney breast of that same brick, as if it
were something quite rare and costly."
"Why don't you build the new store of it, Phil?" Grace asked.
"That's a happy thought!" said Truett. "Now, Somerton, what do you say
to my brickyard plan? Put up the first solid building in Claybanks--set
the fashion. Think of how 'twould advertise your business and make your
competitors look small by comparison."
"Very well. See how quickly it can be done, if at all, and then we will
talk business. We must have the warehouse clear by the beginning of the
pork-packing season, less than four months distant." Then he smiled
provokingly, and continued, "Perhaps, however, it will be better to
build the new store of wood, as already planned, so you can give most
of your time to building a railroad, so that we may get our golden
bricks, and other goods, to market."
"There's sense in that," said Truett, taking the remark seriously.
"As to the road, you may rest assured that my figures are within the
extreme cost."
"My dear boy," said Philip, "far be it from me to dispute an engineer's
estimates; but for some years in New York I was clerk and correspondent
for a firm of private bankers who dabbled in railways, and I assure you
that they never found any that cost but ten thousand dollars per mile."
"Perhaps not, for most railways are built on credit--generally on
speculation, and largely for the special benefit of the builders, but
our road--"
"What are these men talking about?" Mary asked of Grace.
"A railway from Claybanks to the nearest station we now have," said
Philip. "Women love imaginative creations, Truett, so tell them all
about it."
"There is no imagination in this," Truett retorted, "but perhaps they
will condescend to listen to facts. Most companies are obliged to
average the cost of their lines over a great stretch of territory.
They have bridges and trestles to build, cuts to make, low ground to
fill, and they must pay high prices, at portions of their line, for
right of way, and they stock and bond their companies at ruinous rates
to get the necessary money. As I've already said, none of the routes I
have selected requires a single bridge, trestle, or filling, and the
right of way, at the highest prices of farm land in this county, won't
exceed a thousand dollars per mile."
"'Twon't cost a cent a mile," said Caleb. "Any farmer in these parts
will give a railroad free right of way through his land, and say 'Thank
you' for the privilege of doing it. If his house or barn is in the way,
he will move it; he'll even let the line run over his well, and dig
himself a new one, for the sake of having railroad trains for him and
his family to stare at, for the trains kind o' bring farmers in touch
with the big world of which they never see anything. If everything else
can be arranged, you may safely count on me to coax right of way for
the entire line."
"Score one for Truett!" said Philip; "proceed, Mr. Engineer."
"Thank you, and thanks to Caleb. The items of cost will be only
road-bed, ties, and metal. A single track, with heavy rails, can be
metalled out here for less than three thousand dollars per mile: that
means nine thousand dollars for the three miles, and that should be the
total cash outlay, for the road-bed and ties can be provided, by local
enterprise, without money."
"Pardon my thick head," said Philip, "but how?"
"By organizing a stock company with shares so small that any farmer can
subscribe, his subscription being payable in ties, which he can cut
from his own woodland, or in labor with pick, shovel, horses, plough,
scraper--whatever he and we can best use. Fix a valuation on ties,
and on each class of labor, and pay in stock. 'Tis simply applying
our drainage-ditch plan to a larger operation, though not very much
larger, and one that will be attractive to a far greater number of men.
Do this, and you merchants and other men of money supply the cash to
buy the metal, and I'll guarantee to have that road completed in time
to haul to market your wheat, pork, corn, and other produce on any
day of the coming winter, regardless of the weather. Caleb tells me
that you merchants have often lost good chances of the market because
the roads between here and the station were so soft or so rough that
a loaded wagon couldn't get over them. There are tens of thousands of
cords of firewood still standing here, on land that ought to be under
cultivation, but the farmers have no incentive to cut it, for there is
no market but this little town. The railroad would get it to market,
and at good cash prices, and thus doubly benefit the farmers. I'm told
that the water-power of the creek has been holding up the Claybanks
heart for years; and I know that there are enough varieties of
commercial timber here to occupy several mills a long time, but no one
is going to haul machinery in, and his output away, over three miles of
mud or frozen clods."
"True as Gospel--every word of it," said Caleb. "I've heard Jethro, an'
Doc Taggess, an' ev'ry other level-headed man in town say the same
thing for years."
"I fully agree with them," said Philip, "but let's go back to figures a
moment. I've heard nothing yet about the cost of locomotives, and other
rolling stock--mere trifles, of course,--yet necessary."
"We should not be expected to supply them," Truett explained. "The road
which ours will feed will be glad to supply them, as all roads do for
short spurs on which anything is to be handled. It would be idiotic to
buy rolling stock for a road which at first won't have enough business
to justify one train a day. When there's anything to do, the old
company will send down a short train from the nearest siding; the run
wouldn't require fifteen minutes. You Eastern people who are accustomed
to a thickly populated country, with many through trains daily, don't
know anything about the business methods of the sparsely settled
portions of the West, especially on spurs of a railway line."
"He's right about rolling stock," said Caleb. "Ten years ago the
railroad company, over yonder, told Jethro an' a committee that went
from here to see 'em that if we'd build the spur, they'd do the rest.
But they stood out for a solid road-bed, as good as their own, an' for
heavy steel rails, like their own, for they said their rollin' stock
was very heavy, and they wa'n't goin' to take the risk of accidents.
The price of the rails knocked us."
"Naturally," said Truett, "for steel rails were four or six times as
costly then as they are now."
"You've made me too excited to eat," said Philip, leaving the table,
"and I'm afraid that the trouble will continue until this road is moved
from the air to the ground. The main offices of the old company are
only about a hundred miles away; suppose, Truett, that you and the most
truly representative merchant of Claybanks--I mean Caleb--run up there?
I'll look after the men at work on the store. Tell the president, or
whoever is in authority, that we think of building a spur at once from
here to their main track, see what they'll do, and persuade them to say
it in black and white. If they talk favorably, we'll hold a public
meeting, and try to do something. Mrs. Wright, we owe you an apology. I
assure you that business talk is not the rule at our breakfast table."
"I wish it were!" said Mary, who, with Grace, had listened excitedly
until both women were radiant with enthusiasm. "I wish railways could
be planned at breakfast every day--if my brother were to be the
builder."
"Now, Mary," said Caleb, "perhaps you begin to understand the Western
fever of which I've told you something from time to time."
"Understand it?" said Mary, dashing impulsively at her husband. "I
already have it--madly! I'm willing to bid you good-by at once for
your trip, though I haven't been married a week. My husband a possible
railway director--and yours also, Grace! How do you feel?"
"Prouder than ever," Grace replied. "Just as you will feel, week by
week, as the wife of a clever husband."