SCOTT MAKES A TRIP TO WASHINGTON
Scott leaned wearily on the picket fence for a long time after the old
white horse had carried Foster out of sight up the mountain road. He did
not bear any trace of the fight on his face, but his body was sore and
he was very nearly exhausted. He could not but smile as he stood there
with heaving chest to think how far he had departed from the policy of
strict neutrality which he had laid down for himself. But from the
remarks which Hopwood had dropped that morning he doubted whether it
would make very much difference to the Waits.
Well, it was done now, anyway, no matter what the Waits might think. He
had shown them that he had no intention of running away, and he felt
that he could now go about his own business without running the risk of
being called a coward. As he turned toward the hotel he saw Hopwood
leaning on the corner of the fence.
“Well, Hopwood, did you see the big fight?” he asked smilingly.
“That was a good job,” Hopwood replied soberly.
“Shall I have to fight all of the rest of the Waits now, Hopwood?” Scott
asked a little anxiously. He did not want to waste any more time waiting
for these people or fighting them.
Hopwood shook his head. “Sewall told him he would get his ears boxed
again. They will be glad of it.”
“Listen, Hopwood. Is Sewall going to try to take the contract?” Scott
asked earnestly.
“No,” Hopwood replied emphatically. “How could he? There is not that
much money in the whole country.”
“I did not think there was myself but I wanted to make sure of it. Could
you deliver a message for me, Hopwood?”
Hopwood looked up eagerly. Collecting news and carrying messages were
things he liked best to do. He did not have to speak. Scott could see
that he was more than willing.
“I have some business I want to attend to, Hopwood,” Scott continued,
“and I’ll have to go away for a couple of days. If I go now it will look
as though I have thrashed Foster and then run away. I want you to tell
Foster Wait, or maybe it would be better to tell Sewall, if he is the
real head of the family, that I am going away for three days but will be
back here Saturday. You can tell the same thing to Jarred, too, so that
they will all know it. Do you think that you have it straight now?”
Hopwood nodded gravely. “I always get messages straight,” he replied
proudly. “You are sure you will be back Saturday?” He had taken a
strange liking to this man who had treated him like a rational being and
thrashed his surly uncle.
“Yes, Hopwood, I’ll certainly be here Saturday without fail, and,” he
added, for he could see how the friendship pleased Hopwood, “I would
like to see you again pretty soon after I get back.”
He might as well have saved himself the trouble, for Hopwood had gone to
deliver his precious message. Scott sighed when he saw that the man was
gone. He could not get used to his unexpected movements. He wasted no
more thoughts on it now. The dinner bell rang, on time for once, and the
station agent came in the gate.
“Hear you beat up Foster Wait,” he grinned.
“Yes,” Scott admitted. “He forced it on me but I was glad of the
opportunity. Who told you?”
“One of the Wait boys told me, but that would have been unnecessary
after I saw Foster.”
“I wonder what the Waits will think of it?” Scott asked. He was anxious
to have some one back up Hopwood’s opinion.
“They are as tickled as you are,” the agent answered confidently. “He is
always bragging, and none of them like him. He’ll probably have to quit
the country after this.”
Scott was glad to hear it. That would leave him free to carry out his
plans. He told the agent of the trip he was going to make, and spent the
afternoon busily working over a bunch of legal-looking papers. Four
o’clock found him on the afternoon train headed north, an impatient
traveler.
Scott had not told any one where he was going. If he had said that he
was going to Washington, they would have thought that he was running
away as the other fellows had done. But he was going to Washington, and
when he got there he lost no time in going to the Forest Service office
and to the chief of his division.
Mr. Johns seemed very much surprised to see him back so soon. “Well,
Burton,” he laughed, “I didn’t think that they could put the run on you,
not so soon, anyway.” He laughed, but at the same time it was plain that
he was disappointed.
“Well, they have,” Scott replied, “but I am going back.”
Mr Johns brightened at once. “That sounds better,” he said heartily.
“There are one or two things about that logging contract I want to make
sure of,” Scott said. “As I understand it, those logs have been sold and
we have contracted to have them delivered at a certain time.”
“That’s right,” Mr. Johns agreed. “It is rather an unusual thing to do,
but we were forced to it in this instance or we could not have bought
that piece of land for the forest at all.”
“And now,” Scott continued, “we are responsible for the delivery, and no
one will take the logging contract.”
Mr. Johns frowned. “I thought that man Reynolds told me that he had
arranged for the logging contract before he left.”
“Maybe he thought he had,” Scott replied bitterly, “but he hadn’t.”
“Don’t be bashful in saying what you think about him,” Mr. Johns urged.
“He was a man we took on temporarily, and we’ve let him out again.”
“It is a good thing,” Scott said. “I think I should have killed him
myself if he had stayed there. Do you know the situation down there, Mr.
Johns?”
“No,” Mr. Johns replied, “I am beginning to think that I do not. Two men
were sent there before you were. Both of them seemed to be getting along
fine according to their reports, but one suddenly resigned and the other
asked for a transfer. Neither of them gave a very satisfactory reason.”
Scott grinned. “I can tell you the reason. There is an A1 feud down
there. Those fellows tied up with one party, and the other one ran them
out of the country.”
Mr. Johns was intensely interested and insisted on knowing all the
details. “But why not ignore both factions and give the contract to an
outsider? That is altogether possible.”
“That’s what I thought,” Scott said, “but everybody knows of that feud,
and no one will touch the contract for fear of getting mixed up in it.”
Mr. Johns rubbed his forehead in perplexity. “And unless we can deliver
those logs on time we’ll lose our option on that piece of land. What are
you going to do about it?” He looked at Scott helplessly.
“Resign like the rest of them,” Scott grinned.
“Oh, come now, Burton,” Mr. Johns remonstrated. “I did not expect that
of you. You have the reputation of being resourceful and a fighter. You
are not going to resign and let yourself be run out of the country at
the first sign of trouble, are you?”
“Yes,” Scott replied firmly, “I’m going to resign but I’m not going to
be run out of the country. I want to resign and take that logging
contract myself.”
Mr. Johns looked at him a moment in open-mouthed astonishment. “Do you
mean that?” he asked eagerly.
Scott nodded. “If it will be all right with you. I am going to put in my
bid. I had some experience logging my own timber last winter, you know,
and I’d be willing to spend my last dollar to beat that feud down
there.”
His chief thought a moment. “It’s a bit irregular, and I’ll have to take
it up with the forester, but under the circumstances I believe it can be
done.”
The upshot of the matter was that Scott started back for North Carolina
the next day with the assurance that if no one else made a satisfactory
bid, his resignation would be accepted and he would be awarded the
contract.
Three days before he had been hoping for some one to bid on that same
contract; now he was praying with all his heart that no one would.