A CRISIS
It was late at night when Andrew entered Watson's office at the mine
with the letters he had brought. Though a bitter wind blew the snow
about it, the little wooden building was hot and filled with the smell
of pine boarding. A stove, glowing a dull red, stood at one end, and a
kerosene lamp hanging from a beam threw a bright light on the faces of
the men. They were eager and expectant, but Andrew's bore the stamp of
fatigue, for the journey up-river had tried his strength. Moreover, he
shrank from learning what the smelting company's report might reveal.
Drawing a chair to the table, he sat for a few moments lost in
troubled thought.
When he first reached the mine he had found a keen and scarcely
expected pleasure in his work. Its difficulties seized his interest,
and for a while he enjoyed the grapple with them. Then misgivings
crept in; he felt that there was something wrong. Watson displayed no
enthusiasm about the Company's prospects, and Carnally let fall
disturbing hints. Andrew, however, steadily occupied himself with his
task, which gained a stronger hold on him, until he realized that all
his mind was bent upon its successful accomplishment. Now he must put
his half-formed plans and surmises to a searching test. Bracing
himself, he opened a large sealed envelope with a steady hand.
As he took out the first of its contents he made an abrupt movement,
but he read on through several sheets while his face hardened; and
then he sat very still, with the papers scattered about the table.
"Well?" said Watson, in harsh inquiry.
Gathering up the papers, Andrew passed them to him without a word,
while Carnally waited as if he knew what to expect. When he in turn
took the report from Watson, there was an oppressive silence in the
shack. Andrew could hear the billets snap in the stove and the murmur
of the river among the ice.
"It seems to me that this report leaves us no room for doubt," he
said, when Carnally had finished reading the papers. "We can't keep
the mine working on such returns as these. But I want your honest
opinion."
Watson made a sign of agreement.
"Well," he said frankly, "you have got to have the truth, though I
guess it will cost me my job. Rain Bluff will never pay its
shareholders."
"You knew this some time ago?"
"I was afraid of it; but it wasn't my business. I was sent here to get
out as much ore as I could, and I've done so."
"Have you any suggestion to make?"
"If you wrote down your capital, got rid of Mappin, and did your
transport work yourselves, you might keep going. The ore's there,
though its hard to get at and not worth much."
Andrew turned to Carnally.
"You suspected how matters stood from the beginning. I see now that
you meant to warn me."
"I guessed. I couldn't speak plainly without proof."
"Oh," said Andrew in a strained voice, "you knew; so did Watson, and
no doubt every man who works for us. I and the unfortunate people who
found the money were the only ones deceived." He turned to the manager
sharply. "What did you mean when you said the mine would never pay its
shareholders? Do you imply that somebody else may make a profit out of
it?"
"You've hit it. Mappin's making his pile, and I guess there's a man
with money backing him; but that's no concern of mine. I'm sorry for
you, Mr. Allinson, but I suppose I must hand you my notice and tell
the boys to quit?"
"No," said Andrew; "not yet. Let them go on as usual, until I speak to
you again."
"I'm not anxious to leave your service--you're square," Watson replied
with an air of relief. "Now, if you don't want me any more, I'll go to
bed."
He left them and Andrew quietly filled his pipe, while Carnally
watched him with interest. Andrew had had a shock, but he had borne it
well. Instead of unnerving, it had braced him to grapple with a
difficult situation. He had courage and determination; but there was
something else he must be told.
"Jake," Andrew said at length, "this has been a blow. I put a good
deal of money into the Company and will lose it, but that's only half
the trouble--the rest will hardly bear thinking of. My firm put its
stamp on this venture, backed it with its name; and it was rotten from
the first!" His face suddenly darkened with suspicion. "How Leonard
came to take it up I can't imagine."
"If he's the man who fixed things in Montreal, I guess he'd tell you
it was a fair business risk; but you don't quite understand the matter
yet. It's clear that Mappin has the support of Mr. Hathersage; he
finds him the money, gives him the job at prices higher than you need
pay, and no doubt takes a share of the profit."
Andrew started.
"It's hard to admit, but I believe you're right!" Then his mind leaped
to a wider conclusion. "I dare say the Company was started solely for
Hathersage's benefit!"
"I guess there's some foundation for that," Carnally said pointedly.
Neither spoke for the next few moments; and then Andrew looked up with
a grim smile.
"I'm beginning to understand your attitude toward me when I first
came. You thought I was in the ring--one of the people who, knowing
how bad it was, led investors into this rotten scheme!"
"I allow I did think something of the kind."
"And afterward? My guess isn't flattering, but I can't blame you,
Jake. You believed I was what you call a sucker, sent here because I
was too big a fool to find things out."
Carnally looked embarrassed.
"I figured it out like this," he said: "the people who sent you
expected you'd spend your time hunting and fishing, without taking
much interest in the mine. Then, if trouble came, they'd leave you to
face it. Being on the spot, it would be your fault for not learning
what was wrong."
"A clever plan. After all, it's possible they took too much for
granted."
"They did," Carnally declared. "You have shown a grip of things they
didn't look for. In my opinion they picked the wrong man for the part:
but you're in a pretty tight place. You can't make this mine pay."
"No," said Andrew; "I don't mean to try. If I can get his consent, I'm
going to look for Graham's lode."
Carnally started.
"It's a great plan! Will you want me?"
"Of course! I'd be helpless without you."
"No," Carnally corrected him with a smile. "So far, I've given you
hints about things you couldn't be expected to know; but I've taught
you all I can, and you take your right place now. You're boss in this
new proposition, and I'll be glad to be your second."
"Thank you," said Andrew. "We'll start for the Landing to-morrow and
see Graham."
They left the mine at daybreak, and on reaching the town Andrew had
first of all an interview with Graham's employer. The president of the
lumber company sat at a desk in his office at the mill and listened
attentively while Andrew explained the object of his visit. He was an
elderly man with a keen but good-humored expression, and once or twice
he glanced at Andrew as if surprised. When the latter had finished,
the mill-owner took a box from a shelf.
"Have a cigar," he said.
Andrew lighted one and looked round the room. It was dusty and dingy,
with a rough board floor; and a cloud of steam from a neighboring
stack obscured the light that entered the windows. A rusty stove stood
at one end, with a desk near it which Graham had occupied for twenty
years.
"So the mine has not turned out all you expected?" commented the
lumber-man.
"Far from it," Andrew acknowledged.
"And you feel it a duty to do something to protect the interests of
the shareholders?"
"Yes," said Andrew, and added with a direct glance: "Are you
surprised?"
A smile crept into his companion's eyes.
"I guess we can let that go. You have done the square thing in coming
to me before you spoke to Graham. He's a man we value and he has
served us well, but I've now and then felt sorry for him. It's
possible he hasn't found it easy to spend the best part of his life
here, keeping our accounts on a very moderate salary, though we pay
him more than we could get another man for."
"It's strange he didn't break loose from it long ago."
"I guess it cost him something to stay. We're an optimistic people,
Mr. Allinson, with a hankering after adventure; but Graham could never
put by money enough to make the plunge. He had his children to bring
up and he spared nothing to give them a fair start. I suppose this
isn't quite the line you thought I would take?"
Andrew admitted it with some embarrassment, and the lumber-man looked
amused.
"There are plenty of big mills run entirely on the laws of supply and
demand, where men are scrapped as freely as obsolete plant, and the
one thing looked for is the maximum output. Still, you see, our
isolated position gives us a monopoly, and we're small enough to take
a personal interest in our older hands. As a matter of fact, we find
it pays; but that is not the point. You are willing to guarantee
Graham against any loss if your search is unsuccessful?"
"Yes," Andrew promised; "he shall not suffer."
"Then we'll do our share in keeping his place open as long as may be
needful. As it happens, things are slack just now; and to make this
journey will set his mind at rest. He'll be content with the old
routine when he comes back."
"Then you count on his coming back to the mill?"
The lumber-man looked sympathetic.
"I don't wish to discourage you, but if Graham finds that lode I shall
be surprised."
Andrew thanked him and returned to his hotel, where he wrote some
letters and afterward decided to visit Frobisher, who was staying at
the Island of Pines for a week or two. Graham was away on business
down the line and would not return until the next day, and Andrew,
being in a restless mood, felt that a talk with Frobisher or his
daughter might soothe him. They were intelligent and sympathetic
people; and he had thought a good deal about Geraldine of late.
Fine snow was driving before a stinging breeze when he walked out upon
the frozen lake. Here and there its surface had been swept clear by
the wind, leaving stretches of smooth ice, but, for the most part, its
white covering offered good foothold. It was dark and bitterly cold;
Andrew's hands grew stiff in his thick mittens and he shivered as he
faced the stronger gusts, guiding himself by the loom of the rocks and
trees that now and then showed faintly through the snow. The walk was
far from pleasant, and he realized that things would be much worse
when he went up into the trackless spaces of the frozen North.
Reaching the house without misadventure, he was received by Geraldine.
Mrs. Denton, she explained, was invalided by a cold caught on the
train, and her father had driven across to the Landing for his mail,
but would be back soon. She led Andrew into a room which looked
delightfully bright and comfortable after the shack at the mine, and
made him sit down by the hearth, on which a pine-log fire burned
gaily.
"You are thinner than you were when we last saw you, and you don't
look so cheerful," she said, taking a low chair opposite him.
"I think both things are explainable," Andrew replied with a rueful
smile.
Geraldine quietly studied him. He was troubled and could not hide it,
and he interested her. The man was honest and forceful in an untrained
way. She could imagine his grappling with unaccustomed difficulties,
clumsily, perhaps, but resolutely. Though several years his junior,
she knew that she had the keener intelligence; but this did not make
her attitude contemptuous. He had shown signs of qualities which
sometimes carried one farther than superficial smartness.
"I suppose you have had some trouble at the mine?"
"Yes," he said, though he could not account for his candor; "I've had
an experience that has rudely shaken me. After all, it's possible that
one needs something of the kind now and then; and until lately I've
escaped it."
"I wonder whether that's unfortunate?"
"It is, beyond a doubt. I've taken life easily, generally getting what
I wanted without much trouble, and now, when I've no experience to
fall back on, I'm landed in a maze of difficulties. But all this is
too personal; forgive me for boring you."
"But I'm interested," she declared. She felt that he would find a way
out, though it might not be the easiest one. "As you came over to
Canada, I suppose you must have found the smooth life you led grow
monotonous."
"Not exactly. I liked it; but I'd a feeling now and then that it might
be more bracing to do something useful; make things, for instance, or
even go into business."
Geraldine laughed, and it struck Andrew that she was very pretty as
she looked at him with sparkling eyes.
"You're delightfully matter-of-fact. You might have hinted at a
longing for high adventure or something romantic."
"The worst of adventure is that you often get a good deal more than
you bargain for," said Andrew soberly.
"You learned that in the North?"
"Yes," he answered with a moody air; "that and other things. For
example, I learned how money's sometimes made, and it was a shock."
"Ah! The money was yours?"
"That's where the trouble lies. So far, I've been content with
spending it."
"And you now feel that your responsibility doesn't end there? But if
you wished to go into business, why didn't you do so?"
"That is rather more than I can tell. Still, whenever I hinted at it,
I was quietly discouraged. I suppose it wasn't expected of me, and the
general opinion was that I was incapable."
Geraldine thought that his friends were mistaken in this conclusion,
but she could imagine his yielding to the representations of cleverer
people, without questioning the accuracy of their views about him. He
had, however, obviously broken loose from his tutelage, and now stood
firm, ignorant perhaps of much that men who worked for their living
knew, confronting with undisciplined courage troubles new to him. She
had no doubt that he had courage and strong sincerity.
"I'm afraid I'm not very entertaining," he apologized with a smile.
"It's a compliment that you're natural," Geraldine said graciously.
"One doesn't always expect to be amused. But you have Carnally to help
you at the mine. What do you think of him?"
"I have a high opinion of Jake."
"I believe you're right; he's a favorite of mine. What he undertakes
he carries out. You feel that he can be relied on; that he would do
the square thing, however difficult it is. After all, one couldn't say
much more of any man."
"No," Andrew responded gravely. "The trouble often is to see how the
square thing should be done."
There were footsteps in the hall, and Frobisher came in and greeted
Andrew cordially.
"I heard you were at the Landing, and I'm not sorry you'll have to
stay all night," he said. "It's snowing so hard that I had some
difficulty in getting home with the team."