I won't try to account for Byng's impression that I, though far away,
was flogging him along to achievement. Such influence is more common
than might be supposed, so common, in fact, that the wonder is that it
is not labeled and tagged by everyone, instead of remaining a part of
the equipment of first-class secret-service men, and accomplished
scoundrels.
Criminologists understand it. It is the libertine's long suit. Power
to obsess through concentrated thought. Now that is as substantial as
railroad spikes and can nail its victims to the flooring of the
bottomless pits, or carry them safely, chastely through a life well
spent.
Aaron Burr was a most notable disciple of thought transference. He
prepared his victim's mind at safe distance, so that the finish was a
mere matter of his own convenience, and it is written he never failed.
Women of all classes, well-meaning and virtuous, are unable to
understand this phenomena, until too late, in many cases. Early
training and intuition are the safe-guards. But good influences are
more powerful and account for more wonderful occurrences. Power of
analysis, derived from education and experience, enable men, and
especially women, to overcome their impulses; to keep their minds open
and cautious, thus enabling them to unconsciously shield themselves
against auto-suggestion from cunning rascals. I would not offer this
if it did not have a great deal to do with the life of Howard Byng.
When I awakened next morning I could have imagined myself in a
first-class hotel. The room furnishings were of the best, with a
generous bath and every convenience. But I had only to look out of the
cabin window at the river and the great cut-over land beyond, with
its blackened stumps grinning above the stunted growth, like numerous
outpost sentinels of the infernal regions, to readjust myself to my
exact location. I was surprised to see a small private yacht anchored,
amid-stream, just off the mill.
What Byng called his guest cabin was a good-sized bungalow, on higher
ground some distance below the plant along the river. It had the open
hall of the Southern type and a veranda all around, every room being
private, with entrance from either hall or veranda. While the old
darkey prepared breakfast I looked out over the one-story concrete
mill and the smoking plant below, still in full blast, running
twenty-four hours a day, as all paper mills must. Farther back were
comfortable cabins for the negro help.
Byng soon came up and was thoroughly elated. He took me by the arm and
led me to the other side of the cabin and pointed out the yacht in the
river. "I'm mighty glad he has come while you are here," he said.
"Somehow I feel safe now. That yacht belongs to a Mr. Purdue. Did you
ever hear of the Purdues of New York?" he paused to inquire anxiously.
I thought I could recall a Purdue, once a prominent railroad man.
"That's him, that's what he wrote. He's got twenty thousand acres of
stump land, mostly pine, a little gum and chestnut, joinin' mine on
the north and up the river, and wants to sell out to me. It's a big
deal and I want your advice. We've been dickering by mail for some
time and finally he promised to run down, but I never expected he
would. His boat isn't very big, but she's deep and I don't see how he
ever got up the river. Must have caught the ebb and had luck," he went
on, still excited. "He seems to have his family, too. I saw two or
three wimmen moving about," he added, as if that was an added
responsibility, or an important event. Outside of negroes, women were
seldom seen in that desolate country.
"You see," continued Byng, as we sat down to breakfast, "I've got to
be careful. As near as I can figure, I am the only one who knows how
to make enough out of my turpentine and rosin from pine stumps so that
my paper product is all velvet. They know I do it and are trying their
heads off to find out my method. But they never will. I'll tell you
and that's all. Just as you said, years ago, the soil goes clear down
and'll never stop raisin' cotton. I'm going to take you out to-day and
show you the class of cotton I'm raisin' where I pulled the stumps
out. I've got a lot of stump land, that'll last a long time the way
I'm going now, but I'd like to have enough to last all my life, and
this old codger has got it joinin' me, and it ain't worth a damn cent
to anyone else. Now do you see why I'm a little excited?" he asked,
with a broad, cordial smile, "and do you see the fight me and this
feller is goin' to have if he really wants to get rid of payin'
non-resident taxes? Of course, he's a business man and sharp, much
sharper than me. That's why I am so glad you're here to sort of watch
over me in the deal, and see when I'm going wrong. What do you think
I'd better do?"
"Well, I don't know; if you have written----"
"No, I ain't. I got bit once writin' letters. And once is enough for
me," he interrupted sharply.
"Then the only way is to let things take a natural course. Let him
raise the trade question. Invite them ashore, for they have probably
been cruising for some time and are tired of their cramped quarters in
the small yacht. Let them occupy this bungalow all to themselves. You
can find some other place for----"
"Find another place for you!" he interrupted, dropping his knife and
fork. "Hell's Bells! Me find another place for you! Not if he had all
of Southern Georgia to sell for a penny. You are in my best guest
chamber and you're goin' to stay there, suh. You can stay on the rest
of your life and have Uncle George do nuthin' but wait on you all the
time. That's my orders," he added, with perfect sincerity, and with
such grace as only a Southern man knows how to extend to a trusted
friend. "Besides, unless he's got a big family, there's room to
spare."
"Well, you get the idea. Be nice to him, but wait for him to talk
trade. You know how much more chesty and louder a rooster crows when
he is in his own barnyard and among his own hens?"
"Yes--yes, I've seen 'em at it, they're right laughable," he replied,
quite able to see the application.
"Well, you are on your own ground, in your own plant, and while you
needn't crow so loud, you can keep your chest away out."
"Do you think I have done so much? It has come so slow, mighty hard,
so much plannin'. Machinery is hard to learn, but I got it down fine
now--engines, dynamos, and all."
"Yes--you have astonished me, Howard; your all-around progress is
amazing, and in another five years you will be the most prominent man
in Southern Georgia."
"You can't ever know what it means to me to hear you say that,
for"--he hesitated again to control himself--"for I would still be a
Georgia Cracker if it wasn't for you," and unashamed he looked at me
squarely with moistened eyes.
"An'--an'"--he halted again, contemplating as anyone might the one
thing apparently unattainable. His lips quivered as he looked out past
the plant and cabins to the growing cotton, the stump land and swamp
which his genius had converted into a garden of usefulness and beauty.
Then, with even voice under control, he went on, "I ain't much more'n
a Cracker yit. I talk Cracker an' I think Cracker, that's why I ain't
no match for Purdue even when it comes to tradin'. I ain't got time to
go to college. What can I do? There's no livin' being I'd take advice
of that kind from 'cept you. My dad and mam, I suppose, did the best
they could, but they didn't give me much but life and an appetite for
moonshine. We come from good English stock, but it's run down. I'm
asking you what I can do for myself, 'cause I know you kin tell me,
can't yer?"
"Howard," I began, delighted that he could see himself, and that he
was ready and willing to struggle for better things. "Are you making
money now?"
"Yes, I'm making money. Every roll of paper that drops off that
machine is clear profit, worth around fifty dollars, and you know they
come off pretty fast, but, shuckins!--ye soon find money don't git ye
much. It's more fun to see the black stumps turn into white paper and
the cotton grow where they cum from!"
"You are better off now than most college graduates," I replied, "but
you do need better English. It will help you to think better. Write to
a northern college to send you a sort of tutor secretary, give him
some work about the office, watch him, and learn to talk as he does.
Insist that he corrects you every time you make a mistake. Get the
best dictionary, learn how to use it, and keep it handy all the time.
Also an encyclopedia, and an atlas. It strikes me that you are
already long on arithmetic." He laughed at this thought.
"An' I'll git rid of my Cracker talk, will I?" he asked, his face
brightening in delightful anticipation.
"Yes, in a year."
"I knew there was a way, an' you could tell me," said he. Then he
linked his arm in mine and dragged me out in the open for a little
look around the place.