SCOTT RECEIVES “AID” FROM HIS BOSS
Mr. Roberts went back to his office soon after Hopwood’s visit, and was
evidently glad of the opportunity to get away. He had spoken derisively
of those who thought that Hopwood was a spirit, but he had looked behind
him nervously till he was well away from the house.
Scott scarcely noticed that he had gone. He sat with his chin dropped
dejectedly on his chest, and stared across the table with unseeing eyes.
If what Hopwood had said was true, his troubles there would be greatly
increased even if his plans were not completely ruined. It seemed as
though some evil genius had brought him to this place, and if he had he
certainly must be laughing at the pickle his victim was in.
Scott was so disappointed that he felt almost ready to cry. With
considerable difficulty, and the help of old man Sanders and the station
agent, he had succeeded in posting himself fairly well on the ins and
outs of this feud. After carefully considering the possibility of an
alliance with one side or the other he had come to the conclusion that
the only safe thing to do was to remain absolutely neutral. He felt
confident that if he could keep away from any entangling alliance with
either side, he could successfully carry on his work in spite of the
feud and might even be able to get these old enemies to patch up their
differences. He had still considered that a possibility even though
every one said that the feud would never be dropped as long as old
Jarred Morgan lived.
And now his superior officer had taken sides with the Waits and spoiled
everything.
Scott determined to find Hopwood, learn where Mr. Reynolds was, and know
the worst as soon as possible. One of them was right and the other
wrong. They must at least get together and agree on a common policy.
So Scott started out in search of Hopwood. He felt sure that he could
tell him where to find Mr. Reynolds. The iron hat was nowhere in sight,
but Scott felt that he could not be very far away. Surely he would not
have come to make such a statement as that and then disappear without
waiting to give any explanation of it. Possibly he had gone to one of
the stores.
He had started down the village street to investigate when he noticed a
motionless figure sitting back of a pile of cordwood a little way back
from the street. He instantly recognized Hopwood. Was he hiding from him
and would he run away? Scott approached him rather cautiously, but
Hopwood watched him calmly and showed no sign of retreating. He rather
appeared to be waiting for him.
“Thanks for the warning you gave me,” Scott said as soon as he was near
enough to him.
“I thought that you would be looking for me,” Hopwood replied with his
usual disregard of preliminaries.
“What made you think that I would find you in this out-of-the-way
place?” Scott laughed. “Why didn’t you stay at the hotel? I would have
been glad to have had a visit from you.”
“The more people see me with you the less I’ll hear,” Hopwood answered
cunningly.
Scott started at the flash of wisdom from a half-wit. “I guess you are
right,” he replied earnestly. “Do you think we are safe here?”
“Oh, yes,” Hopwood replied confidently. “No one can see us here except
from that one place, and no one else will go along that street for half
an hour.”
Scott did not waste any time trying to find out how Hopwood knew that.
There was something else that he was anxious to know. “Then maybe you
can tell me, Hopwood, what makes you think Mr. Reynolds has joined the
Waits?”
“He’s been up at the Waits’ nearly all day, and has just about promised
them that you will give them the logging contract.”
“How do you know he did?” Scott asked incredulously. “You were with me
part of the morning, and went up the other mountain when you left me,”
he protested.
Hopwood only smiled.
“Where is he now?” Scott continued. He could not believe that Hopwood
knew what he was talking about. Maybe he was mistaken. He hoped so.
“He is on his way down the mountain with Foster Wait,” Hopwood replied
promptly. “He’ll be down here at the store in less than half an hour,”
he added, as though he had noticed the doubt in Scott’s face.
“Then I guess I’ll wait here till he comes,” Scott said. “I don’t want
to be seen now traipsing around the country with Foster Wait.
“He’ll have some job to make me give a logging contract to either of
those gangs,” Scott muttered defiantly. Then, after a minute’s silence,
“Do you think that either the Morgans or the Waits could carry out a
logging contract if they did get it, Hopwood? Have they the money to do
it?”
But there was no answer. Hopwood had disappeared again in his usual
silent and mysterious fashion. Scott knew better now than to waste his
time looking for him. He fell to brooding over this phase of the
problem, and when he looked at his watch it was already ten minutes
after the time which Hopwood had predicted for Mr. Reynolds’ arrival.
Scott jumped to his feet and hurried out into the open. He was delighted
to see Mr. Reynolds coming up the street alone and walked down to meet
him.
Mr. Reynolds was a rather effeminate-looking man, over neatly dressed in
the very latest cut of riding suit. He affected a rather bored manner.
He waved an indolent greeting to Scott.
“Hello, there, Burton! I sure am glad to see you. I thought I was going
to have to eat another meal in this beastly hole. Now I can probably
finish up with you in time to catch the afternoon train.”
Scott wished that he had caught the train the day before but he did not
dare to say so. Instead he said, “Think how long I shall have to eat
here. Better stay awhile. Misery loves company, you know.”
“Well, I hope you get all the company you want, but it sure will not be
mine if I can help it.”
“By the way,” Scott asked suddenly, “where did you get that cigarette?”
“Pardon me,” Mr. Reynolds exclaimed, as he fumbled apologetically in his
pocket for the package, “but I was under the impression that you never
smoked.”
“I don’t,” Scott replied. “I was only wondering where you bought them.”
“Oh, here at the store. They carry them, but they are a pretty bum
brand.”
“Which store?” Scott insisted.
“The one on the left there. Hadn’t noticed there were two. What’s the
big idea? You rooting for one of them?”
Scott knew that it would be useless to argue with this man. He evidently
had no conception of the situation in the village and Scott did not
think it worth while to try to explain. “No,” he replied, “I was just
wondering which one I ought to deal with,” which was true enough.
“Well, if everything they sell is as rotten as their cigarettes you’d
better try the other one. But come on up to the hotel so that I can go
over things with you in time to catch that train. I think that I have
things lined up here for you in pretty good shape.”
“How is that?” Scott asked. In spite of the harm this man had done him
he could not help smiling at his unbounded conceit.
“Oh, I had a long talk with Foster Wait this afternoon, and fixed it up
with him so that the Waits will take over the logging contract. There is
a big family of them and the labor problem will be settled. No use in
scouring the country the way those other fellows did when it can be
handled so easily locally.”
“Didn’t sign them up, did you?” Scott asked the question as carelessly
as he could, but he really waited breathlessly for the answer.
“No,” Mr. Reynolds answered pompously, “I could not very well go into
all those details because I did not have the necessary forms with me. I
only smoothed the way for you a little. Now that I have talked to them
it will be no trick at all for you to get them to sign up and arrange
all the details.”
“And,” Scott thought, “the details would have to include the hiring of
an undertaker to sweep up the remains.” But to Mr. Reynolds he said
nothing. The more he let this man talk the more certain he would be of
getting rid of him on the afternoon train, and that was Scott’s one
ambition now—to get rid of this man at the earliest possible moment.
They walked on up to the hotel and when they came out two hours later
Scott was more than ever anxious to see him go. If this man had had
anything to do with the business when the two previous supervisors had
been run out of the country he could understand perfectly well how it
happened. Scott had listened attentively and talked hardly at all.
As they approached the stores Scott saw a good-sized delegation
assembled on the porch of each. The Waits looked smilingly elated. The
Morgans glared angrily from across the way.
“Come on up and I’ll introduce you to these people now if I have the
time.”
Scott was determined to avoid this but he did now know how to do it. If
he refused, Mr. Reynolds would undoubtedly start an argument which the
spectators could not help but understand. Fortunately the train was on
time, something which rarely happened, and it whistled just in the nick
of time.
As the train pulled out of the station, Scott watched it with a feeling
of profound relief, but at the same time he half wished that he was on
it. He was rid of Mr. Reynolds, but would he ever be able to get out of
the mess into which this man had drawn him?