he said in mild reproach. "If you don't know that my father is still the
head of the machine, and that the machine has always been for you in the
past, I imagine you're the only man in the Sage-Brush State who needs
enlightening. No, Gantry; you've got only one man to fight; but you
mustn't forget that his name, also, is Blount. Go to it and send me
word, and let the first word be that you have scotched the head of this
lumber-company snake. That's all for to-day. Good-by."
Notwithstanding the fact that his day's work was still ahead of him, the
traffic manager did not attack it when he was left alone. An able man in
his calling, and one who had fought his way rapidly by sheer merit and
hard work from a clerkship to an official desk, Richard Gantry was still
lacking, in a character admirable and most lovable in many ways, the
iron that refuses to bend, and--though perhaps in lesser measure--the
courage of his ultimate convictions. In addition to these basic
weaknesses he owned another--the weakness of the cog which is
constrained to turn with the great wheel of which it is a part.
In his heart of hearts Richard Gantry knew that Blount was right; knew
that the forlorn-hope fight into which his friend and college classmate
had plunged was a struggle to call out all that was best and finest in
friendly loyalty. But when he sprang from his chair and began to walk
the floor of his private office with his head down and his hands deeply
buried in his pockets, he was once more the true corporation liegeman,
loyal to his salt, and anxious only to contrive means to an end.
"Confound his picture!" he muttered, "why the devil can't he see that
he's got everything to lose and nothing to gain? It's a thousand pities
that such a royal good fellow has to turn himself into a wild-eyed,
impossible crank! The Lord knows, I'd do anything in reason for him; but
I can't let him turn anarchist and blow us all to kingdom come. He's got
to be muzzled in some way, and I'll be hanged if I know how it's going
to be done."
The pacing monologue paused when the traffic manager stopped at the
window and stood looking with unseeing eyes upon the morning bustle of
Sierra Avenue. Then he broke out again.
"It's a beautiful tangle--damn' beautiful! Evan says I know that we've
got the machine with us; I wish to heaven I did know it, and could be
sure of it. That would simplify matters a whole lot. But the
vice-president won't say, and he's the one who has been doing all the
dickering with the Honorable David. They quarrelled at first; I'd bet
every dollar I've got on that. But I more than half-believe they've
patched it up now, and I believe it was Mr. McVickar's quick swiping of
Evan--jerking him out from under his father's thumb the way he did--that
brought on the peace negotiations."
He turned away from the window and resumed the floor-pacing, still
wrestling with the deductions.
"By George! I believe I've got hold of the end of the thread at last!
The senator _is_ with us, working in the dark, as he always does. And
that Hathaway business: that was one of his smooth little
side-moves--his or Mrs. Honoria's. He didn't want Evan to get in too
deep in the righteousness puddle, and he took that way of letting him
get a peek at the real thing. It was overdone, though; horribly
overdone. Confound it all! I wish Mr. McVickar would loosen up a little
more with me! If he'd tell me a few of the things I ought to know--"
The interruption was the entrance of the boy from the train-despatcher's
office with a verbal message. The vice-president, moving westward, had
changed his plans and cut out some of his stop-overs. Car "008" would be
in on the noon train and would proceed westward, running special, at one
o'clock. The despatcher had thought that Mr. Gantry might want to know.
The traffic manager did want to know, and when the boy had ducked out,
the knowledge was promptly utilized. A touch of a desk-button brought
the stenographer, and Gantry dictated a message. "'Important that I
should have conference with you on arrival. Will meet you at train at
twelve-three.' Send that to Mr. McVickar over the despatcher's wire, and
ask Gilkey to rush it," he directed, and the shorthand man went to do
it.
"Now, Mr. Evan Anarchist Blount!" said Gantry, apostrophizing the late
disturber of his peace, "now we'll find out just where we're at and how
big a rope it's going to take to snub you down," and thereupon the desk
buzzer rattled again, and Mr. Richard Gantry squared himself for his
forenoon's work.
At the moment of his apostrophizing Blount was opening his mail in the
Temple Court office, and lamenting, as a loyal friend might, the
necessity for the recent clubbing into line of so fine a fellow as Dick
Gantry. But the mail-opening plunged him once more into the political
actualities. There were letters from all over the State, and among them
three invitations from widely separated cities, all based upon the
newspaper reports of his Ophir speech. It seemed to be plainly evident
that the "campaign-of-education" idea was striking a popular chord, and
the proponent of the idea saw what a miraculous opportunity was offering
for the railroad if only the "powers" that Gantry had refused to name
were broad enough and high-minded enough to seize it.
After a day and an evening well filled with detail, Blount went to the
station to take the nine-thirty west-bound, since the first of the three
speaking engagements--all of which had been promptly accepted by
wire--lay in that direction. On the platform, whither he went to
consult the bulletin-board, he found Gantry.
"Your train is half an hour late," said the traffic man, with a glance
for the travelling-bag in Blount's hand. "Didn't they know enough at the
hotel to tell you about it?"
"They told me it was on time," said the putative traveller, and he was
far enough from suspecting that Gantry himself had arranged to have the
inaccurate information given across the counter at the Inter-Mountain,
so that he might be sure of an uninterrupted half-hour with Blount
before he should leave the city.
"Ump!" said the traffic manager, "I've got to wait for it, too. One of
my men is coming in on it. Let's go up to the office. It's pleasanter
there."
Together they climbed the stair to the second floor of the station
building, and Gantry unlocked the door of his private room and turned on
the lights.
"Feeling any more humane than you did this morning?" he inquired
genially, after he had opened his desk and found a box of cigars.
"I haven't been feeling otherwise since--well, let's say since midnight
last night," countered Blount laughing.
"Why midnight?"
"That was about the time when I made up my mind definitely to stay in
the fight."
"Then you are still meaning to go ahead on the lines you laid down this
morning?"
"If I wasn't, I shouldn't be here to take the train for the rally at
Angora to-morrow night."
Gantry smoked in silence for a little time. Then he said: "You can't do
it, Evan. It's fine and glorious and heart-breaking, and all that; but
you can't do it."
"I can, and I will!"
"I say you can't. I know a good bit more now than I knew this morning!"
"Catalogue it," said Blount tersely.
"Mr. McVickar came in on the noon train to-day, and I had an interview
with him."
"That doesn't tell me anything."
Again the traffic manager took time to smoke and to reflect.
"You made some pretty savage threats this morning, Evan; about shoving
this thing to the point where the grand juries, Federal and State, could
take hold of it. As a lawyer, you know even better than I do what that
would mean."
"I told you what it would mean. In the present state of public sentiment
it would mean prison sentences for every man of you caught with the
goods."
"Yes, for every man of us," said Gantry slowly; "for the railroad man
who has given, and for the other man who has taken. Evan, the jails of
this State wouldn't be big enough to hold us all."
"I can readily believe you. That is the full weight of the stick with
which I am going to club you fellows into decency."
"And you'll let the club fall wherever it may?"
"I've got to do that, Dick; I can't do any less."
For the third time Gantry paused. The train-waiting interval was half
gone, and he had been feeling purposefully for the climaxing moment
without finding it. But now he decided that it had come.
"In the talk this morning there was some reference made to your father
and his attitude in this fight, Evan. Do you remember what was said?"
"Perfectly."
"Well, suppose I should tell you that I know now--what I didn't know
certainly then--that when you hit out at us you hit him?"
"You mean that he is with you in this scheme to hoodwink the people?"
"Ask yourself," was the low-toned reply.
"I have asked myself a hundred times, Dick; I've been hoping against
hope. I'll be utterly frank with you, as man to man. We've kept pretty
obstinately out of the political field, both of us, father and I, since
the first day when I told him my views on machine-made government. But
from a few little things he has said, I've gathered that he isn't with
you; that there has been a quarrel of some kind between him and Mr.
McVickar--"
"There was a set-to--a battle royal," Gantry put in. "The last act of it
was played to a finish that evening when Mr. McVickar took you down to
his car and hired you. But there has been a meeting since. Ask yourself
again, Evan. Haven't you had good and sufficient reasons for believing
that you are bucking, not only the railroad company, but your own flesh
and blood?"
This time it was Blount who took time for reflection. The shot had gone
home. He told himself that there were only too many reasons for
believing that Gantry was stating the simple fact. None the less, he
made a final effort to break down the conclusion that Gantry was
relentlessly thrusting upon him.
"In all our talks, Dick--there haven't been very many of them--my father
has taken, or seemed to take, a different line. I don't recall anything
specific just now, but he has given me the impression that he hasn't
much in common with Mr. McVickar and his methods. To hear him talk--"
Gantry smiled. "You know your father very superficially, Evan, if you'll
permit me to say so. What the Honorable David Blount says in talk with
you or me or anybody outside of the inner circle is a mighty poor
foundation upon which to build any idea of what's going on in the back
of his head. No--hold on; don't get mad. What I'm trying to tell you is
what everybody in the sage-brush hills--save and excepting
yourself--knows like a book, and that is that the big boss's moves are
all made strictly in the dark. He doesn't let his own right hand know
what the left is doing. That's the secret of his absolutely Czarish
power, I think."
The shriek of a distant locomotive whistle floated in through the open
window at Blount's back and he got up stiffly.
"That's my train coming," he said. And then: "Tell me plainly, Dick:
you brought me up here to throw a final brick--a bigger one than you
have yet thrown--and I know it. What did Mr. McVickar tell you to-day
that will make my job harder than I am already finding it?"
Gantry turned his head, refusing to meet the straightforward gaze of the
questioner.
"You intimated this morning that you would go at it lawyer-fashion,
Evan," he said; "which means, I suppose, that you would get the evidence
on us. You can do it; the Lord knows, there's plenty of it to be had.
But when you pull out one set of props the whole thing will come down.
We haven't any of us been careful enough about what we put in
writing--_not even your father_."
Blount staggered as if the words had been a blow.
"You're trying to tell me that my father would be involved in the
disclosures you fellows might drive me to make?" he demanded, and his
voice was husky.
Gantry was still looking away. "There always has to be an
intermediary--you know that. We can't do business direct with
these--with the people who have something to sell. You can draw your own
inferences, Evan. I didn't send Hathaway to you; I sent him to your
father."
The train was thundering into the station and Blount picked up his
hand-bag and went out, stumbling blindly in the unlighted passage at the
stair-head. And in the private office behind him the traffic manager
was crushing his dead cigar in his clenched hand and staring fixedly at
the square of darkness framed by the open window.
XIV
BARRIERS INVISIBLE
During the three weeks following the night journey to Angora, a journey
on which he once more fought the hard battle to a still sharper
conclusion, Evan Blount scarcely saw his office in Temple Court for more
than a brief hour or two at a time. One speaking appointment followed
another in such rapid succession that he was constantly going or
returning; and since there was everywhere a repetition of the welcome
accorded him by the miners of the Carnadine district, there was no
reason save physical weariness to make him wish to limit his
opportunity.
It was not until he was deep into the fourth week of the hurryings to
and fro that he began to admit a suspicion which grew like a juggler's
rose once he had given it place. Could it be possible that these
numerous invitations, coming now from all parts of the State, were
purely spontaneous? If not, if they were so many subtle moves in the
great game, he could see no possible end to be subserved by them save
one: they were effectually keeping him away from the capital, which was
naturally the nucleus and centre of the campaign activities. Was there
something going on at headquarters that "the powers" did not wish him
to find out? Of one thing he was well assured. Gantry was dodging him,
was apparently keeping an accurate record of his movements; for whenever
the hurryings permitted a flying return to the capital the traffic
manager was always out of town.
These were small matters, but vital in their way. Failing to keep in
touch with Gantry, Blount could never be sure that the policy of the
railroad company had been reformed or changed in any respect. Moreover,
his journeyings, which brought him in direct contact with the voters
themselves, seemed to have the effect of isolating him curiously in the
actual battle-field. That a hot political campaign was raging throughout
the length and breadth of the State was not to be doubted; the
newspapers were full of it, and in many districts the fight had become
acrimonious and bitter. But although he was supposed to be in the thick
of the fight, he knew that he was not; that some mysterious influence
was shutting him out and holding him at arm's length.
Everywhere he went the cordial reception, the attentive and hospitable
committeemen, the packed house, and the generous applause were always
awaiting him. It was as if his progress had been carefully prearranged,
like a sort of triumphal procession. None the less, the invisible
barrier--the barrier which was excluding him from a hand-to-hand grapple
with the inner workings of the campaign--was always there, and he could
neither surmount it nor push it aside.
Notwithstanding the hard work and hard travelling, he did not allow the
missionary effort and its curious isolation to obscure in any sense the
sturdier purpose. By every means he could devise he was holding his
principals up to the mirror of a vigilant watchfulness. Arguing that the
opposition newspapers would be quick to seize upon any charge of
corruption involving the railroad company, he read them faithfully. As
yet there had been only innuendoes and a raking over of past misdeeds,
though by this time many of the editors were openly claiming that the
old alliance between the railroad and the machine had never been broken,
and warning their readers accordingly.
Blount winced when he read such editorials as these. Though he was going
about, striving to do his part manfully, and even with enthusiasm, the
burden of the cruel responsibility he had voluntarily shouldered was
never less than crushing. His only hope lay in success. If he could make
Gantry and his superiors come clean-handed to the election, there need
be no exposure, no cataclysm involving both the railroad officials and
his father.
So ran the saving hope; and not content with mere watchfulness, Blount
tried to get his finger upon the pulse of occasions whenever he could.
On his brief stop-overs in the capital he kept his eyes and ears open
for the earliest hint of any charge of chicanery, and though he was
unable to get hold of Gantry personally, he kept up a steady fire of
letters and telegrams, all pointing to the same end--absolute and utter
good faith, and the upholding of his hands in the public plea for a
square deal. To these the traffic manager always replied guardedly and
optimistically. Everybody was delighted with the good work done, and
doing, by the railroad company's field manager; public opinion was
slowly but surely changing; let the good work go on--and much more to
the same effect.
Blount did let the good work go on; but as the critical pre-election
weeks approached, he began to arm himself, reluctantly but resolutely. A
little quiet investigation, which was made to dovetail cleverly with his
speech-making journeys, revealed--as Gantry had confessed it
would--convincing evidence of past corruption and present law-breaking.
Hathaway had told the truth when he had asserted that his own
involvement was only one of many similar bargains. Blount called upon
the president of the Irrigation Alliance at Romero, in the heart of the
agricultural district, upon the managers of several of the
electric-power companies, and upon a number of influential mining
men--all shippers, and all large employers of labor. It was the same
story everywhere. Preferential freight rates had been given in return
for votes controlled, and the rates were still in effect.
The investigator turned sick at heart when these men talked quite freely
to him, thus showing conclusively that they were cynically discounting
his public utterances. McDarragh, owner and manager of the "Wire-Gold"
properties in the Moscow district, winked slyly when Blount cautiously
inserted the probe.
"You're on, Mr. Blount. I sat up there in the Op'ry-house last night
listening to your game, and says I to myself, 'Thim railroad
shift-bosses know their trade.' 'Twas a gr-reat talk you gave us, and
it'll make the swinging of the har-rd-rock vote as easy as twice two. Of
course, we have a thin paring on the ore rate; you'll be knowing that as
well as annybody in the game, I'm thinking. 'Tis well that we fellows at
the top know how to make one hand wash the other. Come again, Mr.
Blount, and give my regards to the sinator when ye see him. And ye might
whisper in his ear that it's a waste of good wor-rk for him to be
sinding his gum-shoe wire-pullers to be laboring with our min. We're
safe as the clock up here in the Moscow."
This was not the first hint that Blount had been given pointing to the
underground work of the machine. That this work was being directed
toward the subversion of the popular will, he made no doubt; and there
were times when he was strongly tempted to carry the war boldly into the
wider field of graft and bossism. That he postponed the bigger battle
was due quite as much to the singleness of purpose which was his best
gift as to the desire to spare his father. Telling himself resolutely
that the reformation of the railroad company's political methods was his
chief object, and the only one which warranted him in retaining his
place on the Company's payrolls, he held aloof when his father's name
was mentioned and bent himself to the task of providing the means for
the subjugation of Gantry--and of Gantry's and his own superiors, if
need be.
The securing of evidence of the kind which would really give him the
whip-hand promised to be a delicate undertaking. Men like McDarragh
talked openly enough about the illegal special freight rates, but talk
was not evidence. Curiously enough, while he was trying to devise some
way of obtaining the tangible proof without using his semiofficial
position in the company's service as a lever, the thing itself was
thrown at him. From some mysterious source a rumor went out that the
special rates were in jeopardy; and the very men with whom he had talked
began to write him importunate letters begging him to deny the rumor.
With a sheaf of these letters in his pocket, each one inculpating both
parties to the illegal "deals," Blount grew gayly exultant. The natural
inference was that Gantry and "the powers" had been finally forced to
yield--that he had won his victory. But if he had not yet won it,
chance, or something better, had placed in his hands the weapon with
which he could compel a return to fair dealing and honesty.
It was on a second speech-making visit to Ophir that Blount had his
first face-to-face chance at Gantry. A meeting of the Mine-Owners'
Association, moving for a readjustment of the classification on copper
matte and bullion at a time when the railroad company might be supposed
to be on the giving hand, brought Gantry to the gold camp in the
Carnadine Hills, and the first man he met at the hotel was the stubborn
dictator of new policies for the Transcontinental Company.
"Hello, Dick! made a mistake, didn't you--coming while I was here?" said
the reformer, with a very lifelike replica of his father's grim smile.
"I suppose you have an immediate engagement to go somewhere else, or to
do something that will give you a chance to dodge?"
"No; I wish to the Lord I had!" was the hearty admission. "You're a
fright, Evan; you are getting to be a perfect nightmare, with your
letters and telegrams. You've got me so I'm afraid to open my desk."
Blount nodded gravely. "I'm glad the letters and telegrams have had
their effect at last," he rejoined.
"Had their effect? Yes, they've had the effect of turning my hair gray,
if that's what you mean."
"I think you know what I mean, Dick."
"I'll be hanged if I do. What are you driving at?"
"At the fact that you have finally concluded to cancel the crooked deals
with--wait, and I'll give you the names of the co-respondents"--and he
drew a packet of neatly docketed letters from his pocket.
"Hold on a minute," protested the traffic manager; "you're getting in
rather too deep for me. Will you let me see those letters?"
Blount put the letters back into his pocket and mechanically buttoned
his light top-coat over them for additional safety.
"Do you mean to say that you haven't passed the word to Hathaway and
McDarragh and a dozen others I could name?" he asked.
"Of course I haven't. You call yourself a lawyer, and yet you ask us to
set aside promises that are, or ought to be, as binding as so many
written contracts with penalties attached. You're crazy, Evan; it can't
be done, and that's all there is to it."
Blount was frowning thoughtfully. "'Can't' goes out of the window when
'must' comes in at the door, Dick. You remember what I told you--that
I'd get evidence, lawyer-fashion. I've got it; evidence of the sort that
would turn the people of this State into a howling mob to tear up your
tracks if I should publish it."
"But I tell you we _can't_ withdraw the specials, you wild-eyed
fanatic!"
"All right; then level down the public's rates to fit them. And do it
quickly, old man. The time is growing fearfully short, and my patience
isn't what it used to be."
"My Lord! anybody would think you owned the Transcontinental Company,
lock, stock, and barrel! Where under heaven did you get your nerve,
Evan? Blest if I don't believe you could out-bluff the old--er--your
father, himself, if you once got the fool notion into your head that it
was your duty to try!"
"You are side-stepping again, Dick, and that won't go any longer. You've
got to fish or cut bait, and do one or the other pretty soon."
"I'd cut the bait all right, if I were Mr. McVickar, Evan. I'd fire you
so blamed far that you wouldn't be able to find your way back in a month
of Sundays."
Blount tapped his pocket. "As long as I have these documents, Mr.
McVickar doesn't dare to fire me. And if you and he don't come down
within the next few days--yes, it's a matter of days, now--I'll fire
myself and go over every foot of the ground again, telling what I know."