BATTLESBURG SMELLS MONEY AND PLUNGES INTO A MAD ORGIE OF SPECULATION
Billy Ricks, shambling after dandelion greens, stepped out of the road
to let a great, olive-green touring car go tearing by and bounce over
the railroad track. A second or so later he breathlessly dashed into the
near-by office of the wagon works and grabbed for the telephone.
"That millionaire that went through here in his private car a couple o'
weeks ago has come back to town in his automobile," he told Clint
Richards.
"I know it," was the answer. "He's just stopped in front of the Palace
Hotel," and with a sigh Billy Ricks hung up the telephone receiver,
eying that instrument in huge disfavor.
In the mean time, Main Street, which had relapsed into slumber for two
weeks, was once more wide awake. Hope and J. Rufus Wallingford had come
back to town. There was no avenue of trade that did not feel the
quickening influence within an hour. Even his appearance, as he stepped
from the touring car, clad richly to the last detail of the part,
conveyed a golden promise. Mrs. Wallingford, mostly fluttering veil, was
another promise, and even the sedate G. W. Battles so far forgot his
dignity as to come across from the bank in his bare head and shake hands
with the great magnate. Quick as he was, however, Judge Lampton was
there before him. His half of the option money left behind by Mr.
Wallingford had wrought a tremendous change in the Judge, for now the
beard that he had worn straggling for so long was cut Vandyke and kept
carefully trimmed--and instead of a stogie he was smoking a cigar.
Warmed by their enthusiastic reception, the Wallingfords amiably forgot
the purely private and personal quarrel between Mrs. Wallingford and
Mrs. Daw, which had disrupted the happy quartette and nipped in the bud
an itinerary that had been planned through to San Francisco, and they
plunged into a new life with great zest. For years J. Rufus had been
content to make a few thousand dollars and spend them, but his last haul
of a hundred and fifty thousand that he had received from the perfectly
legitimate sale of another man's patent for which the inventor got
nothing, had stirred in him the desire not merely to live like a
multi-millionaire, but to be one. As the first step in his upward and
onward progress he transferred his hundred odd thousand dollars from an
Eastern depository to the Battles County Bank. Next he took ninety-day
options upon all the unoccupied property in Battlesburg, including
several acres of ground beyond the Battles & Battles Pure Food Creamery
and Cheese Concern. He was not so improvident as to pay cash for these
options, however; instead, he gave ninety-day notes, writing across the
face of each one: "Not negotiable until after maturity." The first of
these notes Judge Lampton took to the Honorable G. W. Battles
inquiringly. The autocrat of Battles County merely smiled.
"I'll lend you face value on it, Tommy, any time you want it," he
observed; and that was the last notch in establishing the local credit
of J. Rufus Wallingford, for Judge Lampton was in his way as persistent
a disseminator as Billy Ricks himself.
But Battlesburg alone was not a large enough field for Wallingford.
Having tied up about half the town, he left "for a little pleasure
jaunt;" but before he went away he bought the Star Boarding House and
gave Judge Lampton _carte blanche_ to fit up that magnificent ten-room
structure as a private residence, according to certain general plans and
requirements laid down by the purchaser. When Mr. and Mrs. Wallingford
came back two weeks later, that palatial dwelling was perfect in all its
arrangements and appointments, even to the stocking of its cellars and
the hiring of Letty Kirby as cook and Bessie Walker as maid, and of
Billy Ricks as gardener and man-of-all-work. The vast sensation that
might have been created by the hiring of three servants, and by the
other lusciously extravagant expenditures faithfully chronicled in the
daily issues of the Battlesburg _Blade_, was, however, swallowed up in a
still greater sensation; for during the absence of the noted financier
Mr. Wallingford had become a vast throbbing mystery to the town of his
adoption. He had been gone only two days, when, in the _Blade_, there
appeared the heading:
OUR MILLIONAIRE
Favors Paris with Crumbs of the Good Fortune Falling from
Battlesburg's Table
The article that followed was a clipping from the Paris _Times_, and
from this it seemed that Colonel J. Rufus Wallingford, the famous
multi-millionaire, late of Boston and New York but now of their neighbor
and county seat, Battlesburg, had been purchasing property liberally
along the main street of Paris, giving in exchange his promissory notes
for ninety days, which notes, upon the telephonic advice of the
Honorable G. W. Battles, of Battlesburg, were as good as gold. Similar
reports were reprinted later on from the London _News_, the Dublin
_Banner_, the Berlin _Clarion_, the Rome _Vindicator_, and from the
papers of other towns still farther away. It was Clint Richards who
became the Sherlock Holmes of Battlesburg and found the solution to this
mystery, being led thereto by the fact that the only towns where Mr.
Wallingford was purchasing this property were along the direct east and
west highway, which, running through Battlesburg, paralleled the P. D.
S. Railroad from Lewisville to Elliston. These two towns were not only
the terminals of the P. D. S. Railroad, but were also the respective
outposts of the great Midland Valley traction system and the vast Golden
West traction system. The conclusion was obvious that either Colonel
Wallingford intended to finance a traction road connecting those two
great terminal points, or that he had absolute knowledge that such a
line was to be built; _and Colonel Wallingford had chosen Battlesburg
for his headquarters_!
It was exhilarating to see how Battlesburg arose to the vast
possibilities of this conjecture. Men who but a brief two weeks before
had slouched to their work in the morning as to a mere daily grind, now
stepped forward briskly with smiles upon their faces and high courage in
their hearts. Every man who had a dollar lying idle looked upon that
dollar now not as so much rusting metal, but as being a raft which might
float him high upon the shore of golden prosperity. Only Pete Parsons,
of all that town, croaked a note of discord. He never for one moment
forgot that J. Rufus Wallingford, upon the day he first registered at
the Palace Hotel, had no baggage with him!
The return of Mr. Wallingford after the _Blade's_ revelation was the
occasion of a tremendous ovation. Clint Richards had fairly to paw his
way through the crowd that surrounded him on the steps of the bank,
where he had stopped to draw a mere five hundred or so for his pocket
money; but, once inside the closely packed circle, Clint pinned Colonel
Wallingford down to an admission of his plans. Yes, the Lewisville,
Battlesburg and Elliston Traction Line was a thing of the near future.
All that remained was to secure rights of way. Battlesburg would, in all
probability, be headquarters, and the L., B. & E. might even build its
car shops here if the citizens of Battlesburg were willing to do their
share. Mr. Richards reached out impulsively to grasp the hand of Colonel
Wallingford, but it was already in possession of Judge Lampton, who,
thrilled with emotion, guaranteed Colonel Wallingford that the city of
Battlesburg would not only be glad, but would be proud, to perform her
part in this great work. He might have said more, but that the Honorable
G. W. Battles, who had emerged upon the steps of the bank just above and
behind Colonel Wallingford, publicly thanked that gentleman, on behalf
of his fellow citizens, for this vast boon. Appreciating the opportunity
thus thrown upon his very doorstep, Mr. Battles, by merely beginning to
speak, quickly packed the street to the opposite curb with his admiring
fellow townsmen, and gave them a half hour of such eloquence as only a
Battles could summon upon the spur of the moment; and Colonel
Wallingford, looming beside him as big and as impressive as the Panama
bond issue, looked his part, every inch!
No open-air political meeting, no Fourth of July speechmaking, no
dedication or grand opening had ever given rise to such tumultuous
fervor as this. There were cheers and tigers galore for Colonel
Wallingford, for the Honorable G. W. Battles, for Judge Lampton, for the
Battlesburg _Blade_, for the L., B. & E. Traction line, for the city of
Battlesburg, for everything and everybody, until the ecstatic throng was
too hoarse to cheer any more; and then, at Colonel Wallingford's cordial
solicitation, the entire town moved down to the mansion which, by the
magic of his money, this great benefactor had built within and without
the shell of the one-time Star Boarding House. They filled his yard,
they trampled his grass, they invaded the newly carpeted house, and the
male portion of them passed in earnest review before his sideboard.
Cakes and sandwiches were on the way in hot haste from Andy Wolf's
bake-shop, boxes of cigars stood open upon the porch, ice cream appeared
for the ladies. Suddenly there arose sweet strains of music upon the
air, and down the street at a quick march, accompanied by happy Billy
Ricks, came the Battlesburg brass band. Never before was Battlesburg so
spontaneously aroused. Amid that happy throng, Colonel Wallingford,
laughing from the sheer joy of feeding people into allegiance, moved
like a prince in the midst of his devoted subjects; and while he
smilingly accepted their homage, came copies of the Battlesburg _Blade_,
wet from the press, an extra special edition. Great piles of these were
kept replenished upon the porch throughout the evening, so that every
inhabitant of the city of promise should know all the golden future that
lay before him--and learn to subscribe. Battlesburg was at last to
become the New Metropolis of the West; her citizens were to be in the
very vortex of a vast whirlpool of wealth, and not one of them but
should wax rich. From the East and from the West, from villages and
farms, trade would rush in an endless stream aboard the trolley cars of
the L., B. & E. traction line; Main Street of Battlesburg should become
a Mecca where countless pilgrims would leave their stream of bright and
shining dollars; as business increased, property values would rise; with
the first singing of the trolleys a hundred-dollar lot would be worth a
thousand. And all this through the advent of that master magician of the
modern commercial world, Colonel J. Rufus Wallingford!
Marked copies of that issue of the _Blade_ were sent to Paris, to
London, to Dublin, to Berlin, to Rome and to all the other towns between
Lewisville and Elliston, and all the papers on the route of the proposed
new traction line caught up the information eagerly. Within three days a
boom had leaped along every foot of what had been before but a lazy,
dusty hundred miles of country road. It was a magnificent effect. Even
Mrs. Wallingford read the accounts of this stupendous movement, which
her husband had inaugurated, with wonder and amazement, and laid down
the first _eight-page issue_ of the _Blade_ with sparkling eyes.
"Jim," she exclaimed, "I'm proud of you! It is worth something to have
started thousands of people into new activity, new hope, new life; to
have, by your own unaided efforts, doubled and tripled and quadrupled
within just a few days the value of hundreds of thousands of dollars'
worth of property!"
Mr. Wallingford at that moment was pouring himself out a glass of
champagne, and now he laughed.
"It is a big stunt, Fannie," he agreed; "especially when you come to
think that outside of our traveling expenses it was all done at an
expense of two-fifty cash, the amount I paid Lampton when I bought
those first options."
It was almost unbelievable, but it was true, that all these huge
impulses had been set in motion by mere commercial hypnotism. The
public, however, saw in them only the power of unlimited money. Money!
At last its magic presence hovered over Battlesburg, a vast beneficent
spirit that quivered in the very air and rendered the mere act of
breathing an intoxication. Its glitter enhanced the glory of the very
sunlight, and to its clinking music the staid inhabitants of the town
that had slumbered for half a century quickened their pace as if
inspired by the strains of a martial air. The same quickening that
applied to individuals applied also to the town as a whole. Civic pride
and ambition were aroused. The day after Wallingford returned, the
Chamber of Commerce convened in special session, and a committee,
composed of Henry Quig and Max Geldenstein, escorted Colonel Wallingford
before that august board, where the Honorable G. W. Battles, as
president, asked of the eminent capitalist a pregnant question.
Battlesburg wanted the shops of the L., B. & E. traction line. What did
the L., B. & E. want?
His requirements were modest, Colonel Wallingford assured them. He
demanded no cash bonus whatever. If they would merely provide him the
ground to build the shops, and a lot conveniently placed in the center
of the city for a freight, baggage and passenger station, and would use
their influence with the city council to secure him a franchise, he
would be content. He had secured options upon the very pieces of
property that would be ideal for the purposes of the L., B. & E., but
upon these he would ask no profit whatever, notwithstanding their
enhanced value and his right to share in the wealth he had created. If
the Chamber of Commerce would merely take up his options, repaying him
the amounts he had paid to secure them, he would ask no more, and,
further than that, he would take the option money, would add to it a
like sum--or more--and with the total amount would purchase a fountain
for Courthouse Square as an earnest of his sincere regard for
Battlesburg and its enterprising and gentlemanly citizens.
The enthusiasm that greeted this announcement was distinctly audible for
two blocks each way on Main Street, and in the midst of it the Honorable
G. W. Battles arose to once more make the speech of his life. He could
assure Colonel Wallingford that there would be no trouble in
influencing the City Council to grant him a franchise, for the Chamber
of Commerce had means of coercing the City Council; which was a splendid
joke, for every member of the City Council was also a member of the
Chamber of Commerce, and they were all present. Such a quantity of
mutual good will and esteem was never before uncorked in so limited a
space as the social room of Odd Fellows' Hall, and Clint Richards was
quite lost to find new adjectives for the front page of the next day's
issue of the _Blade_. The glorious news, together with some striking
illustrations of the healthy advance of Battlesburg real estate, was
copied in the papers of Paris, London, Dublin, Berlin and Rome. In those
towns, too, the same civic activity was exhibited, the same golden hopes
were aroused, the same era of prosperity set in; and the papers of those
villages vied with each other in chronicling the evidences of increased
wealth that had come upon them. Franchises, therefore, were to be had by
the munificent Colonel Wallingford without the asking. Before he could
even appeal to them, village councils had given him the exclusive use of
their only desirable streets for fifty years without money and without
price. Ground for stations was donated everywhere, and when Wallingford
started out to secure a right of way from the regenerated farmers, who
in these days kept themselves posted by telephone and rural free
delivery, his triumphant progress would have sickened with envy the
promoters of legitimate traction lines.
Discarding the big touring car, he secured a horse and buckboard, and
donning yellow leather boots with straps and buckles at the calf,
appeared upon the road the very apotheosis of a constructive engineering
contractor; and when he stepped to the ground, big and hearty, and head
and shoulders above nearly every man he went to see, when he gave them
that cordial handclasp and laughed down upon them in that jovial way,
every battle was half won. The thorough democracy of the man--that was
what caught them! Moreover, the value of every foot of ground along the
traction line was to be enhanced; at every farmhouse was to be an
official stopping point with a platform; cars were to be run at least
every hour; it would be possible to go to town in either direction,
perform an errand and get back quickly, at infinitesimal cost and
without sparing a horse from the field; sidings were to be made
everywhere, and wheat cars, whenever required, would be loaded directly
from the fields, the cost of transportation being guaranteed to remain
less than one half that charged by the railroad; express cars were to be
inaugurated, and upon these, milk, butter, eggs, produce of all kinds,
could be shipped at trifling expense.
[Illustration: NEVER IN ALL HER MARRIED LIFE HAD SHE ENJOYED ANY
POSITION APPROACHING THIS]
While Wallingford was enjoying this new _role_ he had created, his wife
had also her taste of an entirely new life. She had no more than settled
down in her new house than Mrs. G. W. Battles called upon her. Following
her lead came Mrs. Geldenstein and Mrs. Quig and Mrs. Dorsett and the
other acknowledged social leaders of the town. True, they criticised her
house, her gowns, her manner of speech, her way of doing up her hair,
but, this solemn duty performed, they unanimously agreed that she was a
distinct acquisition to the polite life of the place. Never in all her
married existence had she enjoyed any position approaching this. They
had been nomads always, but now she had actual calls to make, actual,
sober, formal friendships to cement, all these made possible by her
husband's vast importance in the community; and upon Wallingford's
triumphant return from his campaign for the right of way he was
surprised to find her grown so young and care-free.
"I like this place, Jim," she told him in explanation. "Let's fix it to
stay here always."
He gazed down at her and laughed.
"What have you been doing?" he inquired. "Giving pink teas? Getting full
credit for your diamonds and those Paris dresses and hats?"
She laughed with him in sheer lightness of spirit.
"It's more than that," she said. "It is because I'm a human being at
last. I have a chance to be a real woman like other women, and it is
nice to have everybody looking up to you as the biggest man in town, not
even excepting Mr. Battles. Why, you could go to the Legislature from
here! You could be elected to any office they have! You could even be
governor, I think."
He laughed again and shook his head.
"There isn't enough in it," he assured her. "I'd rather promote a
traction line. This is the best ever. Why, Fanny, the entire population,
on both sides of the road for a solid hundred miles, is laying awake
nights and turning handsprings by day, all just to make money for yours
truly."
"They owe it to you," she insisted. "Look how much money you're making
for them. The only thing I don't like about it is that you're away so
much. You must manage, though, to be home the twenty-first. I'm going to
give a lawn reception."
"Fine!" he exclaimed. "Every little bit helps. It's a good business
move," and he walked away, laughing.