DAN OAKLEY went to Chicago, intending to see Holloway and resign,
but he found that the Huckleberry's vice-president was in New York on
business, and no one in his office seemed to know when he would return,
so he sat down and wrote a letter, telling him of the condition of
affairs at Antioch, and explaining the utter futility, in view of what
had happened, of his trying to cope with the situation.
He waited five days for a reply, and, none coming, wired to learn if
his letter had been received. This produced results. Holloway wired
back that he had the letter under consideration, and requested Oakley to
remain in Chicago until he returned, but he did not say whether or not
his resignation would be accepted. Since there was nothing to be done
but await Holloway's pleasure in the matter, Dan employed his enforced
leisure in looking about for another position. He desired a connection
which would take him out of the country, for the farther away from
Antioch and Constance Emory he could get the better he would be
satisfied. He fancied he would like to go to South America. He was
willing to accept almost any kind of a post--salary was no longer a
consideration with him. What he required was a radical change, with
plenty of hard work.
It was not to be wondered at that his judgment of the case was an
extreme one, or that he told himself he must make a fresh start, as his
record was very much against him and his ability at a discount. While he
could not fairly be held responsible for the miscarriage of his plans at
Antioch, he felt their failure keenly, so keenly that could he have seen
the glimmer of a hope ahead he could have gone back and taken up the
struggle, but the killing of Ryder by his father made this impossible.
There was nothing he could do, and his mere presence outraged the
whole town. No understanding would ever be reached with the hands if he
continued in control, while a new man in his place would probably have
little or no difficulty in coming to an agreement with them. No doubt
they were quite as sick as he had been of the fight, and if he left they
would be content to count his going a victory, and waive the question of
wages. It was part of the irony of the condition that the new man would
find enough work contracted for to keep the shop open and running full
time for the next eight or ten months. But his successor was welcome to
the glory of it when he had hidden himself in some God-forsaken corner
of the globe along with the other waifs and strays--the men who have
left home because of their health or their accounts, and who hang around
dingy seaport towns and read month-old newspapers and try to believe
that the game has been worth the candle.
By far his greatest anxiety was his father. He watched the papers
closely, expecting each day to read that he had been captured and sent
back to Antioch, but the days slipped past, and there was no mention of
him. Holt, with whom he was in constant correspondence, reported that
interest in his capture had considerably abated, while the organized
pursuit had entirely ceased.
Dan had the feeling that he should never see him again, and the pathos
of his age and dependence tore his heart. In a manner, too, he blamed
himself for the tragedy. It might have been averted had he said less
about Ryder in his father's hearing. He should have known better than to
discuss the strike with him.
One morning, as he left Holloway's office, he chanced to meet an
acquaintance by the name of Curtice. They had been together in Denver
years before, and he had known him as a rather talkative young fellow,
with large hopes and a thrifty eye to the main chance. But he was
the one man he would have preferred to meet, for he had been in South
America and knew the field there. Apparently Curtice was equally glad to
see him. He insisted upon carrying him off to his club to lunch, where
it developed he was in a state of happy enthusiasm over his connection
with a road that had just gone into the hands of a receiver, and a new
baby, which he assured Oakley on the spur of the moment he was going to
name after him.
“You see, Oakley,” he explained, as they settled themselves, “I
was married after you left to a girl who had come to Denver with
a consumptive brother. They boarded at the same place I did.” His
companion was properly interested. “Look here, how long are you going to
be in the city? I want you to come and see us.”
Dan avoided committing himself by saying his stay in Chicago was most
uncertain. He might have to leave very soon.
“Well, then, you must drop in at my office. I wish you'd make it your
headquarters while you are here.”
“What about the road you are with?”
“Oh, the road! We are putting it in shape.”
Oakley smiled a trifle skeptically. He recalled that even as a very
young man filling a very subordinate position, Curtice had clung to the
“we.” Curtice saw the smile and remembered too.
“Now, see here, I'm giving it to you straight. I really am the whole
thing. I've got a greenhorn for a boss, whose ignorance of the business
is only equalled by his confidence in me. If you want to be nasty you
can say his ignorance is responsible for much of his confidence. I've
been told that before.”
“Then I'll wait. I may be able to think of something better.”
“There are times when I wonder if he really knows the difference between
an engine's head-light and a coupling-pin. He's giving me all the rope
I want, and we'll have a great passenger service when I get done. That's
what I am working on now.”
“But where are you going to get the funds for it? A good service costs
money,” said Dan.
“Oh, the road's always made money. That was the trouble.” Oakley looked
dense. He had heard of such things, but they had been outside of his own
experience.
“The directors were a superstitious lot; they didn't believe in paying
dividends, and as they had to get rid of the money somehow, they put
it all out in salaries. The president's idea of the value of his own
services would have been exorbitant if the road had been operating five
thousand miles of track instead of five hundred. I am told a directors'
meeting looked like a family reunion, and they had a most ungodly lot of
nephews--nephews were everywhere. The purchasing agent was a nephew, so
were two of the division superintendents. Why, the president even had a
third cousin of his wife's braking on a way freight. We've kept him as a
sort of curiosity, and because he was the only one in the bunch who was
earning his pay.”
“No wonder the stockholders went to law,” said Oakley, laughing.
“Of course, when the road was taken into court its affairs were seen to
be in such rotten shape that a receiver was appointed.”
Oakley's business instinct asserted itself. He had forgotten for the
time being that his services still belonged to Cornish. Now he said:
“See here, haven't you cars you intend to rebuild?”
'“We've precious few that don't need carpenter-work or paint or
upholstering.”
“Then send them to me at Antioch. I'll make you a price you can't get
inside of, I don't care where you go.”
Curtice meditated, then he asked: “How are you fixed to handle a big
contract? It 'll be mostly for paint and upholstery or woodwork. We have
been considering equipping works of our own, but I am afraid they are
not going to materialize.”
“We can handle anything,” and from sheer force of habit he was all
enthusiasm. He had pleasant visions of the shops running over-time,
and everybody satisfied and happy. It made no difference to him that he
would not be there to share in the general prosperity. With the start he
had given it, the future of the Huckleberry would be assured. He decided
he had better say nothing to Curtice about South America.
The upshot of this meeting was that he stuck to Curtice with a genial
devotion that made him wax in his hands. They spent two days together,
inspecting paintless and tattered day coaches, and on the third day
Dan strolled from his friend's office buttoning his coat on a contract
that would mean many thousands of dollars for Antioch. It was altogether
his most brilliant achievement. He felt that there only remained for him
to turn the Huckleberry over to Holloway and leave the country. He had
done well by it.
Dan had been in Chicago about three weeks, when at last Holloway
returned, and he proved as limp as Cornish had said he would be in a
crisis. He was inclined to be critical, too, and seemed astonished
that Oakley had been waiting in Chicago to see him. He experienced a
convenient lapse of memory when the latter mentioned his telegram.
“I can't accept your resignation,” he said, fussing nervously among
the papers on his desk. “I didn't put you at Antioch; that was General
Cornish's own idea, and I don't know what he'll think.”
“It has gotten past the point where I care what he thinks,” retorted
Dan, curtly. “You must send some one else there to take hold.”
“Why didn't you cable him instead of writing me?” fretfully. “I don't
know what he will want, only it's pretty certain to be the very thing I
sha'n't think of.”
“I would have cabled him if I had considered it necessary, but it never
occurred to me that my resignation would not be agreed to on the spot,
as my presence in Antioch only widens the breach and increases the
difficulty of a settlement with the men.”
“Whom did you leave in charge?” inquired Holloway.
“Holt.”
“Who's he?”
“He's Kerr's assistant,” Dan explained.
“Why didn't you leave Kerr in charge?” demanded the vice-president.
“I laid him off,” said Dan, in a tone of exasperation, and then he
added, to forestall more questions: “He was in sympathy with the men,
and he hadn't the sense to keep it to himself. I couldn't be bothered
with him, so I got rid of him.”
“Well, I must say you have made a frightful mess of the whole business,
Oakley, but I told General Cornish from the first that you hadn't the
training for the position.”
Dan turned very red in the face at this, but he let it pass.
“It's too bad,” murmured Holloway, still fingering the letters on the
desk.
“Since you are in doubt, why don't you cable General Cornish for
instructions, or, if there is a reason why you don't care to, it is not
too late for me to cable,” said Dan.
This proposal did not please Holloway at all, but he was unwilling
to admit that he feared Cornish's displeasure, which, where he was
concerned, usually took the form of present silence and a subsequent
sarcasm that dealt with the faulty quality of his judgment. The sarcasm
might come six months after it had been inspired, but it was certain
to come sooner or later, and to be followed by a bad half-hour, which
Cornish devoted to past mistakes. Indeed, Cornish's attitude towards him
had become, through long association, one of chronic criticism, and he
was certain to be unpleasantly affected both by what he did and by what
he left undone.
“Why don't you wait until the general returns from England? That's not
far off now. Under the circumstances he'll accept your resignation.”
“He will have to,” said Oakley, briefly.
“Don't worry; he'll probably demand it,” remarked the vice-president,
disagreeably.
“If you are so sure of this, why don't you accept it?” retorted Dan.
“I have no one to appoint in your place.”
“What's wrong with Holt? He'll do temporarily.”
“I couldn't feel positive of his being satisfactory to General Cornish.
He's a very young man, ain't he?”
“Yes, I suppose you'd call him a young man, but he has been with the
road for a long time, and has a pretty level head. I have found him very
trustworthy.”
“I would have much greater confidence in Kerr. He's quiet and
conservative, and he's had an excellent training with us.”
“Well, then, you can get him. He is doing nothing, and will be glad to
come.”
“But you have probably succeeded in antagonizing him.”
“I hope so,” with sudden cheerfulness. “It was a hardship not to be able
to give him a sound thrashing. That's what he deserved.”
Holloway looked shocked. The young man was displaying a recklessness of
temper which was most unseemly and entirely unexpected.
“I guess it will be well for you to think it over, Oakley, before you
conclude to break with General Cornish. To go now will be rather shabby
of you, and you owe him fair treatment. Just remember it was those
reforms of yours that started the strike, in the first place. I know--I
know. What you did you did with his approval The men are peaceable
enough, ain't they?” and he glared at Oakley with mingled disfavor and
weariness.
“Anybody can handle them but me.”
“It won't be long until they are begging you to open the shops. They
will be mighty sick of the trouble they've shouldered when their money
is all gone.”
“They will never come to me for that, Mr. Holloway,” said Dan. “I think
they would, one and all, rather starve than recognize my position.”
“They'll have to. We'll make them. We mustn't let them think we are
weakening.”
“You don't appreciate the feeling of intense hostility they have for
me.”
“Of course the murder of that man--what was his name?”
“Ryder, you mean.”
“Was unfortunate. I don't wonder you have some feeling about going
back.”
Dan smiled sadly.
The vice-president was wonderfully moderate in his choice of words. He
added: “But it is really best for the interest of those concerned that
you should go and do what you can to bring about a settlement.”
“It would be the sheerest idiocy for me to attempt it. The town may go
hungry from now till the end of its days, but it won't have me at any
price.”
“I always told Cornish he should sell the road the first opportunity he
got. He had the chance once and you talked him out of it. Now you don't
want to stand by the situation.”
“I do,” said Oakley, rising. “I want to see an understanding reached
with the men, and I am going to do what I can to help along. You will
please to consider that I have resigned. I don't for the life of me
see how you can expect me to show my face in Antioch,” and with that he
stalked from the place. He was thoroughly angry. He heard Holloway call
after him:
“I won't accept your resignation. You'll have to wait until you see
Cornish!”
Dan strode out into the street, not knowing what he would do. He was
disheartened and exasperated at the stand Holloway had taken.
Presently his anger moderated and his pace slackened. He had been quite
oblivious to what was passing about him, and now for the first time,
above the rattle of carts and trucks, he heard the newsboys shrilly
calling an extra. He caught the words, “All about the big forest fire!”
repeated over and over again.
He bought a paper and opened it idly, but a double-leaded head-line
arrested his attention. It was a brief special from Buckhom Junction.
He read it with feverish interest. Antioch was threatened with complete
destruction by the forest fires.
“I'll take the first train for Antioch. Have you seen this?” and he held
out the crumpled page he had just torn from his newspaper.
Holloway glanced up in astonishment at this unlooked-for change of
heart.
“I thought you'd conclude it was no way to treat General Cornish,” he
said.
“Hang Cornish! It's not on his account I'm going. The town is in a fair
way to be wiped off the map. Here, read.”
And he thrust the paper into Holloway's hands. “The woods to the north
and west of Antioch have been blazing for two days. They have sent
out call after call for help, and apparently nobody has responded yet.
That's why I am going back, and for no other reason.”