GORDON MAKES HIS BID FOR FORTUNE
Gordon's new address was Buffalo Point, and, entering upon his duties,
he felt like some Napoleon of finance about to embark upon a
market-breaking scheme in which the brilliancy of his manipulations
were to shine forth for the illumination of the pages of history, yet
to be written.
That was how he felt. Those were the feelings of the moment. Later
the burden of his responsibilities obscured the Napoleonic image, and
raised up in his mind a thought as to the wisdom of butting one's head
against a brick wall.
However, for the time at least the joy of responsibility was
considerable, and the greater joy of the companionship and trust of his
new friends was something which inspired him to great efforts.
He studied the affairs of Buffalo Point with a care for detail and an
assiduity which quickly became the surprise and delight of Silas
Mallinsbee. He went over every foot of the new township as laid out by
a well-known firm of town planners from New York under Mallinsbee's
orders and under State supervision. He spent one entire day in
studying the drawn plans, and, finally, having committed all the
details to memory, he felt himself equipped to devote his whole
attention to the cajoling of the railroad which was the sum and
substance of their combined efforts.
In the first week of his occupation he learned many things which had
been obscure. He took the story of Mallinsbee's operations and
examined it closely, discovering in the process that he possessed a
faculty for clear reasoning altogether surprising. Furthermore, he
discovered that Mallinsbee, though possibly unpracticed in the work of
a big financial undertaking, yet possessed all, and more, of the
shrewdness he had vaguely suspected.
One of the first efforts of the old man had been to secure the interest
of many of the chief traders in the old township of Snake's Fall. Also
that of the Bude and Sideley Coal Company. This had been done very
simply but effectively. After having marked off the town sites he
required for himself he had then offered, and sold, to pretty well
every landowner in Snake's Fall a certain allotment of sites at a
merely nominal fee. This, as the man himself declared in the course of
his story, left Snake's Fall pretty well "not carin' a whoop which way
the old cat jumped." The "cat" in this instance being the railroad.
In this way direct and active opposition from the landholders of
Snake's Fall was minimized. As he explained, it was "graft," but he
felt that it was justifiable. This left him with the good will of the
citizens and free to act on broader lines. Then he began to pull all
the wires he could command with the coal people, who regarded him in
the friendliest spirit. However, there was difficulty here, though the
difficulty was not insurmountable. Their engineers were at work
already on the plans to be put into almost immediate operation for the
construction of a private track to link up the coalfields with Snake's
Fall. With them it was a question of time. They could not afford
delay, and the exploitation of the new township would mean delay for
them, although they admitted they would be relieved of a great expense
from its proximity to their workings.
Mallinsbee, after stupendous efforts, and careful negotiations of the
right kind, finally effected a compromise. He was given three months,
of which already one week had elapsed, in which to obtain the definite
assurance that the railroad would accept Buffalo Point as the new city.
In the meantime the coal people's construction would be held up, and
they would assist him with all the influence they could command in
persuading the railroad. This concession was not unaided by
considerable graft, and the graft took the form of an agreement that
Mallinsbee, out of his own pocket, would construct them a coal depot
and yards in conjunction with the railroad, and hand them the titles of
the land necessary for it.
He had just returned from the east, where he had been in consultation
with the Bude and Sideley people, and with whom he had ratified this
agreement, and, at the same time, the railroad had been induced to move
in the matter. All along he had triumphed through the agency of graft,
and the crowning point of his triumph had been demonstrated in the
arrival at Snake's Fall of Mr. David Slosson.
Gordon's first impressions of all these things was that Silas
Mallinsbee had contrived with considerable skill, and that all was more
or less plain sailing. All that remained was to go on, with the
grafting hand thrust ready into the pocket for all eventualities, and
he found himself smiling at the thought of his father, and how surely
his own theories of financial undertakings were working out.
That was his first impression. But it only lasted until he became
aware of those subtleties of human nature lying behind human effort and
intention. He had reckoned without David Slosson, and, more than all,
he had reckoned without Silas Mallinsbee himself.
During that first week of his new work David Slosson had called at the
office twice. Once he had encountered only Gordon, and Hazel had
arrived during the visit. The second time he had had another interview
with Silas Mallinsbee. It was immediately after that interview that
Gordon gained some appreciation of the point where human psychology
stepped into the arena of commercial competition.
The revelation came in Silas Mallinsbee's own statement of the result
of that interview.
"Gordon, my boy," he said. He had quickly abandoned the use of
Gordon's formal address. "If that feller gets around here too frequent
with his blackmail, I'm going to kill him."
Then he thrust the patch over his left eye high up on to his forehead,
and Gordon realized the angry light shining in the man's eyes. With
one eye covered his face had almost been expressionless. His evident
surprise at this realization did not fail to attract the rancher's
attention.
His angry eyes softened to a smile of amusement.
"You're wonderin' 'bout that patch?" he went on. "Wal, when I get up
against a feller who's brighter than I am in a deal, I don't figure to
take chances. Ever played 'draw' with a one-eyed man? No? Wal, I
did--once. An' I ain't recovered from all he taught me yet. He taught
me that two eyes can just about give away double as much as one.
Which, in financial dealings, is quite a piece. I guess that patch has
saved me quite a few dollars in its time. An' it makes me kind of sore
to think I didn't meet that one-eyed 'sharp' earlier in life."
Gordon nodded as he folded up the plan of the town lying on his desk.
"You were using it on--Mr. David Slosson. Say, is he smart, or is he
just a--crook?"
Mallinsbee rose from his chair and moved cumbersomely over to the
doorway, and stood with his back turned, gazing out.
"I ain't fixed him that way--yet. He's sure a crook, anyway. That's a
cinch. 'Bout the other we'll know later. Say, I'm open to graft
anybody on this thing--reasonably. It's part of the game. It's more.
It's the game itself. But I don't submit to blackmail."
"There doesn't seem much difference," said Gordon, drawing some
letter-paper towards him, and preparing to write.
The other remained where he was, moodily gazing out at the hills where
his beloved ranch lay.
"You'd think not--but there is," Mallinsbee went on. "You graft an
organization when you're needin' something from them which they ain't
under obligation to themselves to do. That's buying and selling, and,
as things go, there ain't much kick coming. But when you've done that,
and their favor's fixed right, it's blackmail if their servants come
along and refuse to carry out their work if you don't pay _their_
price. This feller Slosson is a servant of the railroad. I'm ready to
graft all they need. He's out for blackmail. That feller wants to be
paid something for nothing. He don't do a thing for us. He's got to
do the work I'm paying the railroad for. See? Say, Gordon, boy,
happen what likes I won't do it. That feller don't make one cent out
of me. I'm on the buck, an' I don't care a curse."
Mallinsbee had turned about to deliver his irrevocable decision, and,
as Gordon met the man's serious, obstinate expression, he realized
something of the psychology lying behind a big financial transaction.
If Slosson had been a man of reasonable grafting disposition, if he had
been a pleasant, amiable personality, if he had been a--man, if Silas
Mallinsbee had been used to affairs such as his father dealt
in--well--. But it was useless to speculate further. He only saw a
troublous situation growing up for him to contend with.
"We've got to get him playing our game," he hazarded.
"That we'll never do. We're playing a straight bid for a win. He
couldn't play a straight bid for anything."
"No." There was a great cordiality in Gordon's negative.
"It's us who've got to play him--someways."
"It's some proposition," mused Gordon.
"It surely is. There's ways." Mallinsbee laughed shortly. "Maybe
I'll hand him over to Hazel." Then he gave another short laugh.
"Guess the ranch 'll interest him some--too."
Gordon's eyes lit apprehensively.
"I wouldn't do that," he said almost sharply.
Mallinsbee faced about.
"Why not? Hazel's a bright girl. She's as wise as any two men. A
crook don't worry her a thing."
"I guess all that's right enough. But--she's a girl, and--I don't seem
to feel it's fair to her."
Mallinsbee remained silent for some moments. Gordon watched the broad
back of the great, lolling figure in the doorway with an alarm he would
not have displayed had he been facing him. Then the sound of
clattering hoofs outside broke up the silence and the old man turned.
"Here she is," he cried, with a shadowy smile. "Guess she can speak
for herself."
Gordon could have cursed the luck that had brought the girl there at
that moment. He understood the depth of her devotion to her father and
his enterprise. Nothing could have been less opportune.
But, in a moment, his annoyance became lost in his delight at the sound
of her cheery greeting.
"Hello, Daddy," he heard her call out.
Gordon remained where he was, waiting to feast his eyes upon the fresh
beauty of this girl, who occupied so large a portion of his thoughts.
Her father stood aside to allow her to pass in, and Gordon had his
reward in her radiant smile.
"How's our junior partner?" she cried gayly.
"Feeling just about ready to turn the office into a twelve-foot ring
and--hurt somebody," the junior partner retorted quickly.
Hazel pulled a long face.
"Is it that way?" she demanded, and turned back to her father. Then
she added playfully: "What's ruffled the atmosphere of our--dovecote?"
The old man began to chuckle.
"Dovecote?" he said. "Guess armed fortress comes nearer describing
this lay out. Anyway the temper of its occupants," he added, his
twinkling eyes on the determined features of his protege. "Guess I'll
get goin' out to the ranch while you two scrap things out. Seems to me
I need to get the cobwebs of David Slosson out of my head."
He took his departure without haste, but with the obvious intention of
avoiding any further discussion of David Slosson for the present. And
Gordon was not sorry for his going. He felt that at all costs his
suggestion that Hazel should take her place in the ring with this man
Slosson was not to be thought of.
But he was reckoning without Hazel herself. He was calculating with
all a man's--a young man's--assurance that this girl would regard his
opinions in the light he regarded them himself.
Hazel sat herself upon the edge of his desk, and flicked the rawhide
quirt against the leg of her top boot. Her prairie hat was thrust back
from her forehead, and her pretty tanned face was turned in a smiling
inquiry upon Gordon.
"What is it?" she asked, with that new alertness the man had come to
regard as a part of her nature, second only to her delightful
camaraderie.
He smiled back into her merry eyes.
"I'm wondering why two men bent on a joint purpose can't see the same
thing in the same light."
"Which means you and my daddy have already started an argument which
I'll have to settle."
Gordon laughed.
"Guess you'll settle it, though--there's no need."
"Why not? If you can't agree?"
"We do agree."
"Then where's the argument?"
"There isn't one."
Hazel began to laugh.
"Why did you say there was?"
"I didn't. It was you who said that."
Hazel's smile had died away.
"It's Slosson, of course," she said decidedly. And Gordon began to
wish she were not so clearsighted, nor so direct in her challenges.
"Oh, he's a constant thorn," he said evasively.
"Has he been here to-day?"
Gordon nodded.
"And the result?"
"Your father is--obdurate. Says he won't submit to blackmail."
"Has Slosson abated his terms?"
"I don't think so."
Hazel rose quickly from her seat on the desk. She walked slowly across
the room and propped herself in the doorway, in precisely the same
position as her father had occupied. Gordon's eyes watched her every
movement. He knew she was considering deeply, and intuition warned him
that the result of her consideration might easily conflict with that
which he had in his mind. But he was not prepared for the announcement
which came a moment later.
She came back to the desk quickly, and took up her old place on it.
Her pretty lips were firmly set, and she gazed soberly and
unflinchingly down into Gordon's apprehensive blue eyes.
"I shall have to deal with David Slosson," she said quietly. Then,
with a light, expressive shrug: "It won't be pleasant--not by quite a
lot. But--it's got to be done, and done quickly. Father won't give
way, so--he must."
But, in a moment, Gordon's protest came with all the enthusiasm of his
impulsive nature. To think of this beautiful child having to defile
herself by cajoling a creature like this Slosson moved him to a pitch
of distraction. Whatever else he did not know, he knew the meaning of
expression when men gaze at women. And he had not forgotten his first
morning in Snake's Fall.
"Miss Mallinsbee," he cried, his big body leaning forward in his
earnestness, and all his feelings displayed in his ingenuous face, "I'd
rather let this thing go plumb smash than that you should be brought
into contact with that filthy scum again. Say, you're too young, and
good, to understand such creatures. I know----"
Hazel was smiling whimsically down into his anxious eyes.
"And you're so old and wise you can see plumb through him," she cried.
Then with an exact reproduction of his manner, she leaned forward so
that their faces were within a foot of each other. "You two Solomons
can't deal with him worth two cents. My daddy's too obstinate, and
you--are too prejudiced. He's got to be dealt with, and I'm going to
do it. In a case like this a girl's wiser than any two men."
"That's--just how your father argued," cried Gordon, in exasperation.
And the next moment he could have bitten off his tongue.
Hazel clapped her hands.
"So that was the argument," she cried delightedly. "My daddy in his
wisdom thought of me, and you--you being just a big, big chivalrous boy
with notions, couldn't see the same way."
Then she sat up, and her eyes grew very serious. That which lay behind
them was completely hidden from her companion, as she intended it to be.
Had it been possible for him to have read her approval of himself in
her attitude, he now made it beyond question by the sudden wave of heat
which swept through his heart.
"I tell you, you've no right to sacrifice yourself," he cried hotly.
"Nor has your father----"
"No right? Sacrifice?" Hazel's eyes opened wide, and in their
beautiful depths a sparkle of resentment shone. "Who says that?" she
demanded. Then in a moment her merry thought banished the clouds of
her displeasure. She began to tease. "Why shouldn't I do this? Say,
you've roused my curiosity. What's the danger? I--I just love danger.
What is the danger I'm running?"
But Gordon's sense of humor was unequal to her teasing on such a
subject. He remained sulkily silent.
"I'm waiting," Hazel urged slyly.
Gordon cleared his throat. He glanced up at her a little helplessly.
Their eyes met, and somehow he caught the infection of her lurking
smile.
He was forced to laugh in spite of himself.
"If--if you don't know, it's not for me to say," he cried at last, with
a shrug. "But I tell you, right here, if you were my sister you
wouldn't go near Slosson, if I had to--to chain you up."
"But I'm not your sister," retorted Hazel, with her dazzling smile.
"And, if I were, I shouldn't be a sister of yours if I didn't." Then
she laughed at herself. "Say, isn't that real bright?" Then with a
great pretense at severity she flourished an admonitory finger at him.
"Gordon Van Henslaer," she said solemnly, "you're just as obstinate as
my daddy, but you haven't got his wisdom." Her pretense passed and she
became suddenly very earnest. "This thing is just all the world to my
daddy," she said, "and I can help him. Wouldn't you help him if you
had such a dear, quaint old daddy as I have? I'm sure you would. What
does it matter to me what I may have to put up with if I can help him
out? True, it doesn't matter a thing. Insults? Why, I'll just deal
with them as they come along." Then her mood lightened. "Say, we're
just two real good friends, Mr. Van Henslaer, aren't we? Friends.
It's got a bully sound. That's just how my daddy and I've been ever
since my poor momma died years and years ago. Heigho!" she sighed.
"And now I've got another friend, and that's you. Say, we're always
going to be friends, too, because you're going to understand that
this--this thing is business, and business isn't play. My daddy wants
to make good, and I'm going to do all I know. And," she added slyly,
"that's quite a lot. Do you know, in this thing I'm dead honest when
I'm dealing with honest folk, and I'm a 'sharp' when I'm dealing with
'sharps'? By that I just mean I'm not scared of a thing. Certainly of
nothing Mr. David Slosson can do. My daddy can trust me, and he's
known me all my life. You've only known me a week, but you can trust
me too. I'm out to help things along, so just let's forget this--this
talk."
Gordon's admiration for the girl was so obvious that no words of his
were necessary to illuminate it, but he shook his head seriously as she
finished speaking.
"I just can't help it, Miss Mallinsbee," he said, a little desperately.
"If anything happened to you I'd never forgive myself. What do you
mean to do?"
Hazel smiled at his manner. Her smile was confident, but it was also
an expression of her regard for him. She had no intention of modifying
her decision, but she liked him for his dogged protest.
"You just leave that to me," she cried buoyantly. "I haven't an idea
in my silly head--yet. All I can say is, David Slosson is to be
encouraged. He's to be flattered. I'm going to make him smile real
prettily with that mealy face of his. Guess I'll have to take him out
rides--but I'll promise you it won't be my fault if he don't break his
wicked neck."
Gordon was forced to join in the girl's infectious laugh, but it was
without enjoyment. To think of this man riding at Hazel's side,
basking in her smiles, enjoying her company just when and where he
pleased. The thought was maddening. And it set his fingers tingling
and itching to possess themselves of his throat and squeeze the life
out of him.
"And how long's this to go on for?" he asked sulkily, in spite of his
laugh.
Hazel's eyes opened wide.
"Why--until he weakens, and we get things fixed."
"And if he beats your game?"
"He'll hate himself first, and then we'll have to reorganize our plans."
"Then I guess I'll get busy on the other plans."
"I shall be beaten?"
Gordon glanced away towards the window. His eyes had become reflective.
"It's the only thing I can see," he said slowly. "He'll finish by
insulting you. I know his kind. He'll insult you, sure. And I--well,
I shall just as surely pretty near kill him. And then we'll need
other--plans."