The Japanese cook pottered softly about in the square stone basement of
the blockhouse, while, up above, his master sat at a table with his
eyes fixed on a small mountain of blackish-gray rock. He had given
orders to admit none. Fingering the pointed fragments he experienced
more emotion than ever before in his kaleidoscopic life. He sat in
profound contemplation of that which prehistoric and elemental fires
had laid down for his use. There was in his mind no question of
strangeness that it should be himself who had decided that the thing
was there and must be unearthed. It was the turning of another page in
the book of his own history, the beginning of that chapter which would
be the most fascinating of all.
Methodically he searched his retentive brain for data about iron ore.
It existed in Pennsylvania and Alabama and New York, and, nearer still,
there was the great field of Northern Michigan. But in Canada there
were only the distant mines of Nova Scotia. He unrolled a great
geological map and pored over it, finding here, as always, the greatest
fascination. Within two miles of St. Marys there was an inexhaustible
supply of limestone. He stared at the map with a queer but quite
inflexible consciousness that this moment was the one he had awaited
for years and his faith had not betrayed him. He got up with sudden
restlessness and stood at the window. The rapids sounded clearly, but
his mind was not on them. Looking to the west he saw the sky stabbed
with the red streaks of flame from converters that were yet to be, and
ranks of black steel stacks and the rounded shoulders of great furnaces
silhouetted against the horizon. He heard the rumble of a mill that
rolled out steel rails and, over it all, perceived a canopy of smoke
that drifted far out on the clear, cold waters of the lake. He
remembered with a smile that his directors would shortly arrive, and
worked out for their visit a program totally unlike that they had
mapped out for themselves. Last of all he went to the piano and played
to himself. At any rate, he reflected, he would be known as the man
who created the iron and steel industry in the district of Algoma. And
that was satisfying to Clark.
Still feeling strangely restless, he moved again to the window, and
just then Elsie and Belding walked slowly past the blockhouse toward
the tiny Hudson Bay lock. Involuntarily he tapped on the pane. They
both looked up and he beckoned. When they mounted to the living room,
he met them with a smile.
Elsie glanced about with intense interest. She had been there once
before, but with a group of visitors. This occasion seemed more
intimate. She surveyed Clark a little breathlessly and with an
overwhelming sensation that here was the nerve center of this whole
gigantic enterprise. Belding felt a shade awkward as he caught the
glance of the gray eyes.
"Sit down and have some coffee." Clark clapped his hands softly and
the Japanese cook emerged from below. Presently their host began to
talk with a certain comfortable ease that gave the girl a new glimpse
of what the man might really be.
"The directors are coming up this week--that means more work for you,
Belding."
The engineer nodded. Then the other man went on with the fluent
confidence of one who knows the world. Persia, India, Russia,--he had
been everywhere.
"But what brought you here, Mr. Clark?" put in the girl presently. Her
eyes were very bright.