_Winnowed Chaff_
Hartwell had a rule of conduct. It was a Procrustean bed which rarely
fitted its subject. Unlike the originator of the famous couch, Hartwell
never troubled himself to stretch the one nor to trim the other. If his
subjects did not fit, they were cast aside. This was decision. The
greater the number of the too longs or the too shorts the greater his
complacence in the contemplation of his labours. There was one other
weakness that was strongly rooted within him. If perchance one worthless
stick fitted his arbitrary conditions it was from then on advanced to
the rank of deity.
Hartwell was strongly prejudiced against Firmstone, but was wholly
without malice. He suspected that Firmstone was at least
self-interested, if not self-seeking; therefore he assumed him to be
unscrupulous. Firmstone's words and actions were either counted not at
all, or balanced against him.
In approaching others, if words were spoken in his favour, they were
discounted or discarded altogether. Only the facts that made against him
were treasured, all but enshrined. Even in his cynical beliefs Hartwell
was not consistent. He failed utterly to take into account that it might
suit the purpose of his advisers to break down the subject of his
inquiry.
For these reasons the interview with Pierre, even with its mortifying
termination, left a firm conviction in his mind that Firmstone was
dishonest, practically a would-be thief, and this on the sole word of a
professional gambler, a rumshop proprietor, a man with no heritage, no
traditions, and no associations to hold him from the extremities of
crime.
Not one of the men whom Hartwell had interviewed, not even Pierre
himself, would for an instant have considered as probable what Hartwell
was holding as an obvious truth. This, however, did not prevent
Hartwell's actions from hastening to the point of precipitation the very
crisis he was blindly trying to avert. He had not discredited Firmstone
among the men, he had only nullified his power to manage them. Hartwell
had succeeded in completing the operation of informing himself
generally. Having reached this point, he felt that the only thing
remaining to be done was to align his information, crush Firmstone
beneath the weight of his accumulated evidence, and from his dismembered
fragments build up a superintendent who would henceforth walk and act in
the fear of demonstrated omniscient justice. He even grew warmly
benevolent in the contemplation of the gratefully reconstructed man who
was to be fashioned after his own image.
Firmstone coincided with one of Hartwell's conclusions, but from a
wholly different standpoint. Affairs had reached a state that no longer
was endurable. Among the men there was no doubt whatever but that it was
a question of time only when Firmstone, to put it in the graphic phrase
of the mine, "would be shot in the ear with a time check." Firmstone had
no benevolent designs as to the reconstruction of Hartwell, but he had
decided ones as to the reconstruction of the company's affairs. The
meeting thus mutually decided upon as necessary was soon brought about.
Firmstone came into the office from a visit to the mine. It had been
neither a pleasant nor a profitable one. The contemptuous disregard of
his orders, the coarse insolence of the men, and especially of the
foremen and shift bosses, organised into the union by Morrison, had
stung Firmstone to the quick. To combat the disorders under present
conditions would only expose him to insult, without any compensation
whatever. Paying no attention to words or actions, he beat a dignified,
unprotesting retreat. He would, if possible, bring Hartwell to his
senses; if not, he would insist upon presenting his case to the company.
If they failed to support him he would break his contract. He disliked
the latter alternative, for it meant the discrediting of himself or the
manager. He felt that it would be a fight to the death. He found
Hartwell in the office.
"Well," Hartwell looked up abruptly; "how are things going?"
"Hot foot to the devil."
"Your recognition of the fact does you credit, even if the perception is
a little tardy. I think you will further recognise the fact that I take
a hand none too soon." The mask on Hartwell's face grew denser.
"I recognise the fact very clearly that, until you came, the fork of the
trail was before me. Now it is behind and--we are on the wrong split."
"Precisely. I have come to that conclusion myself. In order to act
wisely, I assume that it will be best to get a clear idea of conditions,
and then we can select a remedy for those that are making against us. Do
you agree?"
"I withhold assent until I know just what I am expected to assent to."
Hartwell looked annoyed. "Shall I go on?" he asked, impatiently.
"Perhaps your caution will allow that."
Firmstone nodded. He did not care to trust himself to words.
"Before we made our contract with you to assume charge of our properties
out here I told you very plainly the difficulties under which we had
hitherto laboured, and that I trusted that you would find means to
remedy them. After six months' trial, in which we have allowed you a
perfectly free hand, can you conscientiously say that you have bettered
our prospects?"
Hartwell paused; but Firmstone kept silence.
"Have you nothing to say to this?" Hartwell finally burst out.
"At present, no." Firmstone spoke with decision.
"When will you have?" Hartwell asked.
"When you are through with your side."
Hartwell felt annoyed at what he considered Firmstone's obstinacy.
"Well," he said; "then I shall have to go my own gait. You can't
complain if it doesn't suit you. In your reports to the company you have
complained of the complete disorganisation which you found here. That
this disorganisation resulted in inefficiency of labour, that the mine
was run down, the mill a wreck, and, worst of all, that there was
stealing going on which prevented the richest ore reaching the mill, and
that even the products of the mill were stolen. You laid the stealing to
the door of the Blue Goose. You stated for fact things which you
acknowledged you could not prove. That the proprietor of the Blue Goose
was striving to stir up revolt among the men, to organise them into a
union in order that through this organised union the Blue Goose might
practically control the mine and rob the company right and left. You
pointed out that in your opinion many of the men, even in the
organisation, were honest; that it was only a scheme on the part of
Morrison and Pierre to dupe the men, to blind their eyes so that,
believing themselves imposed on and robbed by the company, they would
innocently furnish the opportunity for the Blue Goose to carry on its
system of plundering."
Firmstone's steady gaze never flinched, as Hartwell swept on with his
arraignment.
"In all your reports, you have without exception laid the blame upon
your predecessors, upon others outside the company. Never in a single
instance have you expressed a doubt as to your own conduct of affairs.
The assumed robbery of the stage I will pass by. Other points I shall
dwell upon. You trust no one. You have demonstrated that to the men. You
give orders at the mine, and instead of trusting your foremen to see
that they are carried out you almost daily insist upon inspecting their
work and interfering with it. The same thing I find to be true at the
mill. Day and night you pounce in upon them. Now let me ask you this. If
you understand men, if you know your business thoroughly, ought you not
to judge whether the men are rendering an equivalent for their pay,
without subjecting them to the humiliation of constant espionage?" He
looked fixedly at Firmstone, as he ended his arraignment.
Firmstone waited, if perchance Hartwell had not finished.
"Is your case all in?" he finally asked.
"For the present, yes." Hartwell snapped his jaws together decidedly.
"Then I'll start."
"Wait a moment, right there," Hartwell interrupted.
"No. I will not wait. I am going right on. You've been informing
yourself generally. Now I'm going to inform you particularly. In the
first place, how did you find out that I had been subjecting the men to
this humiliating espionage, as you call it?" Firmstone waited for a
reply.
"I don't know that I am under obligations to answer that question,"
Hartwell replied, stiffly.
"Then I'll answer it for you. You've been to my foremen, my shift
bosses, my workmen; you've been, above all other places, to the Blue
Goose. You've been to anyone and everyone whose interest it is to weaken
my authority and to render me powerless to combat the very evils of
which you complain."
Hartwell started to interrupt; but Firmstone waved him to silence.
"This is a vital point. One thing more: instead of acquiring information
as to the conditions that confront me and about my method of handling
them, you go to my enemies, get their opinions and, what is worse, act
upon them as your own."
"Wait a minute right there." Hartwell spoke imperiously. "You speak of
'my foremen' and 'my shift bosses.' They are not your men; they are
ours. We pay them, and we are going to see to it that we get an
equivalent return, in any way we think advisable." Hartwell ignored
Firmstone's last words.
"That may be your position. If it is it is not a wise one, and, what is
more, it is not tenable. You put me out here to manage your business,
and you hold me responsible for results. I ask from you the same
consideration I give to my foremen. I do not hire a single man at the
mine or mill; my foremen attend to that. I give my orders direct to my
foremen, and hold them strictly responsible. The men are responsible to
my foremen, my foremen are responsible to me, and I in turn am wholly
responsible to you. If in one single point you interfere with my
organisation I not only decline to assume any responsibility whatever,
but, farther, I shall tender my resignation at once."
Hartwell listened impatiently, but nevertheless Firmstone's words were
not without effect. They appealed to his judgment as being justified;
but to accept them and act upon them meant a repudiation of his own
course. For this he was not ready. In addition to his vanity, Hartwell
had an abiding faith in his own shrewdness. He was casting about in his
mind for a plausible delay which would afford him time to retreat from
his position without a confession of defeat. He could find none.
Firmstone had presented a clean-cut ultimatum. He was in an unpleasant
predicament. Some one would have to be sacrificed. He was wholly
determined that it should not be himself. Perhaps after all it would be
better to arrange as best he might with Firmstone, rather than have it
go farther.
"It seems to me, Firmstone, as if you were going altogether too fast.
There's no use jumping. Why not talk this over sensibly?"
"There is only one thing to be considered. If you are going to manage
this place I am going to put it beyond your power even to make me appear
responsible."
"You forget your contract with us," Hartwell interposed.
"I do not forget it. If you discharge me, or force me to resign, I still
demand a hearing."
Hartwell was disturbed, and his manner showed it. Firmstone presented
two alternatives. Forcing a choice of either of them would bring
unpleasant consequences upon himself. Was it necessary to force the
choice?
"Suppose I do neither?" he asked.
"That will not avert the consequences of what you have already done."
"Are you determined to resign?" Hartwell asked, uneasily.
"That is not what I meant."
"What did you mean, then?"
"This. Before you came out, I had things well in hand. In another month
I would have had control of the men, and the property would have been
paying a good dividend. As it is now----" Firmstone waved his hand, as
if to dismiss a useless subject.
"Well, what now?" Hartwell asked, after a pause.
"It has to be done all over again, only under greater difficulties, the
outcome of which I cannot foresee."
"To what difficulties do you refer?" Firmstone's manner disturbed
Hartwell.
"The men were getting settled. Now you have played into the hands of two
of the most unscrupulous rascals in Colorado. Between you, you've got
the men stirred up to a point where a strike is inevitable." For a time,
Hartwell was apparently crushed by Firmstone's unanswerable logic, as
well as by his portentous forecasts. He could not but confess to himself
that his course of action looked very different under Firmstone's
analysis than from his own standpoint alone. He drummed his fingers
listlessly on the desk before him. He was all but convinced that he
might have been wrong in his judgment of Firmstone, after all. Then
Pierre's suggestions came to him like a flash.
"You are aware, of course, that I shall have to make a full report of
the accident to the stage to our directors?"
"I made a report of all the facts in the case, at the time. Of course,
if you have discovered other facts, they will have to be given in
addition."
Hartwell continued, paying no attention to Firmstone.
"That in the report which I shall make, I may feel compelled to arrange
my data in such a manner that they will point to a conclusion somewhat
at variance with yours?"
"In which case," interrupted Firmstone; "I shall claim the right to
another and counter statement."
Hartwell looked even more intently at Firmstone.
"In your report you stated positively that there were three thousand,
one hundred and twenty-five ounces of bullion in your shipment; that
this amount was lost in the wreck of the stage."
"Exactly."
Hartwell leaned forward, his eyes still fixed on Firmstone's eyes. Then,
after a moment's pause, he asked, explosively,--
"Was there that amount?"
Firmstone's face had a puzzled look.
"There certainly was, unless I made a mistake in weighing up." His brows
contracted for a moment, then cleared decisively. "That is not possible.
The total checked with my weekly statements."
Hartwell settled back in his chair. There was a look of satisfied
cunning on his face. He had gained his point. He had attacked Firmstone
in an unexpected quarter, and he had flinched. He had no further doubts.
This, however, was not enough. He would press the brimming cup of
evidence to his victim's lips and compel him to drink it to the last
drop.
"Who saw you put the bullion in the safe?"
"No one."
"Then, if the safe is never recovered, we have only your word that the
bullion was put in there, as you stated?"
Firmstone was slowly realising Hartwell's drift. Slowly, because the
idea suggested appeared too monstrous to be tenable. The purple veins on
his forehead were hard and swollen.
"That is all," he said, from between compressed lips.
"Under the circumstances, don't you think it is of the utmost importance
that the safe be recovered?"
"Under any circumstances. I have already taken all the steps possible in
that direction." Firmstone breathed easier. He saw, as he thought, the
error of his other half-formed suspicion. Hartwell was about to suggest
that Zephyr should not be alone in guarding the river.
Hartwell again leaned forward. He spoke meditatively, but his eyes were
piercing in their intensity.
"Yes. If in the event of the unexpected," he emphasised the word with a
suggestive pause, "recovery of the safe, it should be found not to
contain that amount, in fact, nothing at all, what would you have to
say?"
Every fibre of Firmstone's body crystallised into hard lines. Slowly he
rose to his feet. Pale to the lips, he towered over the general manager.
Slowly his words fell from set lips.
"What have I to say?" he repeated. "This. That, if I stooped to answer
such a question, I should put myself on the level of the brutal idiot
who asked it."