CHAPTER XXIV

THE CHEESE RIND THAT NEEDED SHARP TEETH

"So, mister, please excuse us, but you open up that sluice,

Or Gawd have mercy on ye, if I turn these gents here loose!"

--The Rapogenus Ball.

Rodburd Ide, fresh-arrived from Castonia in hot haste, saw well to it

that he and Dwight Wade were safe from interruption in the wangan camp.

He even drove a sliver from the wood-box over the latch of the door.

Wade, summoned down from the chopping by a breathless cookee to meet his

partner, gazed upon these nervous, eager precautions in some alarm.

"Now, brace your feet, and get hold of something and hang on hard,"

advised the "Mayor of Castonia."

"Good Heavens, Mr. Ide, what has happened to her?" gasped the young man.

His trembling hands clutched at the edge of the splint table, hallowed

by Elva Barrett's smiles of love across it.

"Her!" snorted the little man, in indignant astonishment. "You don't

think I've whaled up here hell-ti-larrup on a jumper to sit down and

talk about women, do you?"

"But Miss Barrett--" gulped Wade.

"Miss Barrett--" Ide checked himself, discreet even in his impatience.

"Miss Barrett is all right, and the girl is all right, and--say,

look-a-here, my boy, don't you think of a girl, don't you look at a

girl, don't you even dream of a girl, for the next two months!" He drove

his hard little fist upon the sacred table.

He leaned forward, and his very beard bristled at the young man. "Forget

your mother, forget your grandmother, forget that there is anything to

you except grit and muscle. For if ever two men had a man's work cut out

for 'em we're the ones. If ever two men found themselves on the outside

of a ripe cheese and needed teeth to gnaw in, we're the men. Money! I

can't see anything but dollar bills hangin' from those spruce-trees. But

you've got to put on brad-boots and climb to get them. You've got to

walk over men to get 'em!" He was striding about the little room. "I

reckon I seem a little excited," he added, with a catch in his voice.

"But by the priest that hammered the tail for the golden calf, I've got

reasons to be excited. I've smelt it comin' for two years, son! I 'ain't

said anything. I didn't say anything to you when I took you into

partnership; I didn't dare to. But I smelt it all the time. I 'ain't

watched the comin's and goin's of certain men at Castonia for nothin'!

Let 'em bring guns and fishin'-poles! They can't fool me. I smelt it

comin'. And now, by ----, it's come!" Again he banged his fist on the

table and glared down on his partner.

The partner stared back at him with so much dismay and reproachful

inquiry that Ide blew off his superfluous excitement in one vigorous

"Poof!" and sat down.

"The sum and substance of it is, those old Hullin' Machine falls ain't

goin' to bellow away all them thousands of hoss-power in empty noise any

longer. But they've made a noise big enough to reach the crowd that's

organized to fight the paper trust. See now?"

Wade's eyes gleamed in swift comprehension.

"The independents are goin' to develop that power. They're goin' to

build the biggest paper-mill in the world there. They're goin' to extend

the railroad up to Castonia. They're goin' to do it all on an old

charter that every one had forgotten except the lobby clique that put it

through and has been holdin' it for speculation. And why I know it all

and no one else knows it on the outside yet, my boy, is because they've

had to come to _me_! They've _had_ to come to _me_!"

And he promptly answered the eager though mute inquiry in the young

man's eyes.

"Every dollar that I could save, rake, and borrow for years I've been

putting into shore rights and timber. What timber country I couldn't buy

I've leased stumpage on. I've smelt it all comin'. And now they've had

to come to me, Wade. They've bonded the shore rights for a purchase, and

it's all settled."

"With all my heart I'm glad for you, Mr. Ide!" cried the young man, with

a sincerity that put a quiver into his voice. And both hands seized the

hands of the magnate of Castonia in a grip that brought gratified tears

to the other's eyes.

"I know it has always been a surprise to you, Wade, that I was so ready

and anxious to give you a lay on the timber end," the little man went

on. "But I knew it was time to operate on these cuttin's this season.

There are things you can't hire done with plain money. I wanted courage,

grit, and honesty. Most of all, I needed absolute loyalty. There's been

too much buyin' up of men in these woods. The old gang is a hard one to

fight. I reckon I've got you with me."

"Heart, soul, and body, now as from the first, Mr. Ide."

"And the lay I've given you is the best investment I could have made,"

declared the partner. "I want you to feel that it is straight business.

It was no gift. You're earnin' it. But the big bunch is ahead of you,

boy!" His tone was serious.

"Your make will come out of the timber lay. I've said I smelt this

comin'. If it hadn't come this year we should have sent our logs 'way

down-river along with the rest, and done the best we could to steal a

profit after Pulaski Britt and his gang had charged us all the tolls and

fees they could think of, and made us accept their selling-scale. But

now! But now!" His voice became tense, and he leaned forward and patted

the young man's arm. "The Great Independent--and that's the name of the

new organization, and it's a name that's goin' to roar like the Hullin'

Machine in the ears of the trust--wants every log we can hand over to

'em this season. What they don't use in construction work and in their

new saw-mill they'll pile to grind into pulp next year.

"I've got their contract, Wade. Every log to be scaled for 'em on

our landings! And I reckon that will be the first time a square

selling-scale was ever made on this river. No Pirate Britt and his

gang of boom-scale thieves for us this time! Every honest dollar we

make will come to us. And there'll be a lot of 'em, son."

Wade, even though Rodburd Ide had so brusquely commanded him to forget

his love, felt that love stirring in the thrill that animated him now.

Did not success mean Elva Barrett? Did not fair return from honest toil

mean that he could face John Barrett, bulwarked by his millions? Forget

his love? Ide couldn't understand. His love was a spur whose every

thrust was delicious pain. But now that the great secret was out,

Rodburd Ide's tide of enthusiasm seemed to be in somewhat ominous and

depressing reflux.

He spread upon the splint table a lumberman's map, and his hands

trembled as he did so.

"You've done as I told you, and only yarded at the ends of the

twitch-roads, and haven't hauled to landings?" he inquired.

Wade nodded.

"I was waitin', I was waitin'," explained the other, nervously scrubbing

his hand over the map. "If nothin' had happened at Umcolcus Hullin'

Machine this year we'd have landed our logs on Enchanted Stream and run

'em down into Jerusalem, and taken our chances along with Britt's logs.

'Twas a hard outlook, Wade. The last time I dared to operate here I did

that, and you'll find jill-pokes with my mark stranded all along the

stream. The old pirate took my drive because he claimed control of the

dams, charged me full fees, and left behind twenty-five per cent. of my

logs, claiming that the water dropped on him. But I noticed he got all

of his out. It's what we're up against, my son. If I'd tried to fight

him with an independent drive he would have had me hornswoggled all the

way to the down-river sortin'-boom, and then would have had my heart out

on the scale. It's what we're up against!" he repeated, despondently.

"There isn't any law to it. It's the hard fist that makes the right up

this way. I'm tellin' you this so you can understand. You've got to

understand, my boy. I wish it was different. I wish it was all square. I

hate to do dirty things myself. I hate to ask others to do 'em."

It was not entirely a gaze of reassurance that the young man turned on

him. Ide avoided it, and with stubby finger began to mark the map to

illustrate his words. Wade leaned close. He realized that a new and

grave aspect of the situation was to be revealed to him. Getting the

timber down off the stumps had absorbed his attention utterly. As to

getting it to market, he had been awaiting the word of his partner and

mentor.

"Here it is!" growled Ide. "It's a picture of it! And if it ain't a good

picture of the damnable reason why no one else but Pulaski Britt and his

crowd can make a dollar on these waters, then I'm no judge. Here we are

on Enchanted--mountain here and pond here! The dam at our pond will give

us water enough to get us down to Britt's dam on Enchanted dead-water.

Then we've got to deal with Britt. Law may be with us, but in dealin'

with Britt up here in this section law is like a woodpecker tryin' to

pull the teeth out of a cross-cut saw. Britt has got the foot of

Enchanted Stream, and he controls Jerusalem Stream that gobbles

Enchanted. That's our outlook to the east of us. Now to the west, and

only two miles from our operation here, is Blunder Stream. Runs into

Umcolcus main river, you see, like Jerusalem Stream away over here to

the east. Straightaway run. Fed by Blunder Lake, up here ten miles to

the north--that is, it ought to be fed! And it ought to be the stream to

take our logs. But more than thirty years ago, without law or justice,

Britt closed in the rightful western outlet of Blunder Lake with a big

dam, and dug a canal from the eastern end to Jerusalem Stream, and every

spring since then he's used the water for the Jerusalem drive. A half a

dozen small operators have been to the legislature from time to time to

get rights. Did they get 'em? Why, they didn't even get a decent look!

Old King Spruce doesn't go to law or the legislature askin' for things.

King Spruce takes them. Then the laborin' oar is with the chaps who try

to take 'em away. Even if a thing is unrighteous, Wade, it doesn't stir

much of a scandal in politics to keep it just as it is. It's what we're

up against, I say!"

He held down the map, his finger on Enchanted, as though typifying the

power that held them and their interests helpless. Wade gazed upon the

finger-end. He felt it pressing upon his hopes. His brows wrinkled, but

he said nothing.

"The Great Independents will make that name heard by the next

legislature, I've no doubt," Ide went on, "but that's a year from now.

In the mean time we've got five millions or so of timber here at this

end, and its market and the money waitin' at the other end, which is

Castonia. And there's another thing, Wade, and it's the biggest of all:

we've got to hold our timber above the Hullin' Machine. Nature has fixed

the place for us. There's the dead-water behind Hay Island. With Britt

drivin' our logs, he'd ram 'em hell-whoopin' through the Hullin'

Machine, and find an excuse for it, and then buy 'em in down-river at

his own price. If we undertook to follow him down Enchanted and

Jerusalem, he wouldn't leave enough water to drown a cat in. I'm taking

the time to show you this thing as it stands, son. You've got to see all

sides of it."

Ide's little gray eyes were gleaming at him, and the expression of his

face showed that he was narrowing possibilities to one prospect, and was

wondering whether his partner had grasped the full import of that

prospect.

"I think I see all sides of it, Mr. Ide," he said, at last. Then he put

his fingers on the thin thread that marked the course of Blunder Stream.

"And the only side that doesn't hurt the eyes seems to be this side,

west of Enchanted Mountain."

"Well, even then it depends on what kind of specs you've got on,"

returned Ide.

"Suppose we forget that dam at the west end of Blunder and Britt's canal

to the east for just a moment, Mr. Ide. If we got our logs down the side

of Enchanted Mountain and landed them on Blunder Stream we'd stand our

only show of heading Britt's drive at the Hulling Machine, wouldn't we?"

"You was reckonin' on havin' water under 'em, wasn't you?" inquired the

little man, with good-natured satire. "Wasn't plannin' on havin' 'em

walk like a caterpillar, nor fly down, nor anything of the sort?"

"I was reckoning on water," returned the young man, flushing slightly,

"but I was not discussing Blunder Lake. I asked you to leave that out

for a moment."

"Leave out Blunder Lake, and you haven't got a brook that will float

chips," said Ide. Then he jumped up and shot his fists above his head.

"But with a drivin'-pitch in Blunder Stream we can have the head of our

drive down into Umcolcus River and to Castonia logan while Pulaski Britt

is still swearin' and warpin' with head-works across Jerusalem

dead-water. We'd have our head there before he had a log down the last

five miles of lower Jerusalem into the main river. We'll have our sheer

booms set and our sortin'-gap, and we'll hold our logs and let his

through--his and the corporation drive that he's master of, and has been

master of for thirty years. He's been the river tyrant, Wade; but with

our head first at Castonia, and our booms set, and we willin' to sort

free of expense to them followin', I'd like to see the man that would

dare to interfere with our common river rights. The old Umcolcus was

rollin' its waters for the use of the tax-payin', law-abidin' citizens

of this State before old Pulaski Britt and his log-drivin' association

gang of pirates was ever heard of. They've usurped, Wade! They've

usurped until they've made possession seem like ownership. I've picked

you as a man that can handle the men that's under him, and isn't afraid

of Pulaski Britt. And it's got to be a case of reach and take what

belongs to you. If they've got any law with 'em in this thing, it's law

they've stolen like they've stolen the timber lands."

"I've never intended to break law in my dealings with men," said Wade,

with a cadence of mournfulness in his tones. "Law up in the big woods

doesn't seem to be quite as clear-cut as it is in men's relations

outside. But can there be honest law, Mr. Ide, that will allow men like

Pulaski Britt to step in and deprive a man of rightful profits earned

by his own hard labor--to deprive him of--" He was thinking then,

despite of himself, of Elva Barrett, but choked and added, wistfully,

"When it's only an even show a man asks, a fair chance to travel his own

course, it seems hard that there are men who go out of their path to

trip him." It was not lament. He had the air of one who displayed his

convictions to have them indorsed.

"It's Britt's way," retorted the other, curtly. "He's made money by

doin' it, and expects to make a lot more by bossin' the river."

"I want to see Mr. Britt," said Wade, quietly.

"See Britt! You don't think for a minute you're goin' to induce him to

take our drive or do the square thing on the water question, do you?"

"But I want to see him for a reason of my own, Mr. Ide. I'm frank to say

I don't expect any justice from Britt, after my experience with him; but

there is such a thing as justification for myself. I see you don't

understand." He noted the little man's wrinkling brows. "I don't know

that I'm exactly sure of my own mind. But I can't seem to bring myself

to fight this thing according to the code of the woods. I'm going into

it with every ounce of strength and hope that's in me, and there's just

one preliminary that I want for my peace of soul. I want to see Pulaski

Britt."

"If I was gettin' ready to fight the devil," remonstrated Ide, "I reckon

I'd keep away from his brimstone-pot. He's at his Jerusalem camp," he

added, grudgingly. "He went through two days ago."

"Then that's where I'll go to find him," said Wade, decisively.

Rodburd Ide fingered his nose and gazed on his partner with frank

scepticism. "Whatever you want with Britt, you're wastin' your time

on him"--his tone was sullen--"and the wind-up will be another

peckin'-match with that long-legged rooster, MacLeod. I say, save

time and strength for our own business, Wade."

"And I say I've got business with Pulaski Britt, and propose to go to

him like a man," declared Wade. "You and I can't afford to have any

misunderstanding about this, Mr. Ide. You have said you picked me to

handle this end. I've got to handle it in my own way, so far as dealings

with men go. I'll take your advice--I'll _ask_ your advice on details of

the work, because I don't know. As to my business with Mr. Britt, there

is no doubt in my mind. I want you to go with me."

And in the end Mr. Ide went, nipping his thin lips, not wholly convinced

as to the logic of the step, but with his opinion of Dwight Wade's

courage and self-reliance decidedly heightened, and he reflected with

comfort that those were the qualities he had sought in his partnership.

King Spruce, A Novel · 第 24 / 30 章