It was the following Friday that Jim’s attention was called to the scant
stock of logs on the skids. He knew that the mill had been eating up
more timber than before, and of course was pleased, for that meant an
increased production. He knew, too, that the Diversity Hardwood Company
had missed sending down a train of logs once or twice when they should
have been sent; but other matters had filled his attention to the
exclusion of this.
John Beam saw Jim staring at the logs and stepped over to his side.
“I was comin’ up to see you about this to-day,” he said. “Them folks is
givin’ us the worst of it, plenty. Look at the logs they’re sendin’
down. Mostly beech, and dozy at that. For a week we’ve been short of
maple for veneer. And they’ve been holdin’ back on us. We’re usin’ twice
what they’re sendin’ down. I asked the boss of their train crew what was
the matter, and he just grinned at me so’s I wanted to land him one, and
says we was lucky to be alive.”
“Do you think they’re trying to tie us up?”
“I don’t _think_ it,” said John.
Jim turned on his heel and strode back to the office. He called the
Diversity Company on the telephone.
“We’re running short of logs,” he said. “You’ve been cutting down on
shipments. When can we have another train-load?”
“Things aren’t going just right in the woods,” said a voice. “I don’t
believe we can get you more than a small train-load before Tuesday or
Wednesday.”
“We’ll be shut down Saturday if we don’t get logs.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Ashe, but we’re doing our best.”
“Is Mr. Moran there?”
“He’ll be in on the afternoon train.”
Jim hung up the receiver. He had been feeling too fine; he had grown
cocky at his recent successes; now he had a taste of the opposite
emotion. His mill was running better—but what good did it do if the log
supply failed? He had been able to borrow money to pay bills and to
operate—but that only made matters worse if he were unable to get out
his product. He had an option on Le Bar’s timber. This might or might
not be a profitable matter, but it was of no present help. He must have
logs.
That afternoon he was at the depot as the train pulled in. Moran
alighted and Jim fastened upon him instantly. “Mr. Moran,” he said,
“your men are not getting logs to us.”
“Um! What seems to be wrong?” Moran’s voice was irritating. Jim fancied
it was deliberately irritating.
“I’m not here to tell you what’s wrong. That’s your lookout,” Jim said.
“Your business is to supply us with logs according to our contract—and
if anything interferes it’s your job to see it doesn’t interfere.”
Moran’s eyes glinted.
“You’ll get logs as we’re able to ship them. Our first business is to
supply our own mill. You’re a side issue.”
“That’s your attitude, is it? The obligation of contract means very
little to you.”
“That contract was none of my making, Ashe. And if you don’t like the
way we carry it out, you have your redress. Go to the courts.”
“I guess I’ve smoked out the reason we aren’t getting what we’re
entitled to,” said Jim, his voice rising with his anger. “Its name is
Moran—a pretty unsavory reason, from all I gather.”
Moran glared.
“You can’t talk to me like that, young man. You can’t bulldoze me.” He
started to move away. Jim reached out swiftly, caught the man by the
shoulder, and slammed him against the side of the depot.
“I’m not through talking with you,” he said, evenly, his eyes beginning
to glow. “When I want to talk to a man I don’t consider it good manners
for him to walk off. Now, Mister Man, you stay put till I’ve mentioned a
few things to you. If you budge I’ll fetch you back again.”
Moran struggled, cursed, and struck at Jim.
“I don’t want to thrash you, Moran,” said Jim, “but I can—and I may
have to. It depends on you. Stand still!”
Moran turned his savage eyes on the young man’s face. What he saw made
him hesitate. He ceased to struggle; stood glaring venomously.
“Now listen,” said Jim, unconscious of the knot of Diversity’s citizens
who had gathered about. “You’ve been needing to hear a few facts and
opinions, and to-day’s the date of delivery. You and your railroad have
been a blight on this county. You’re trying to turn the Diversity
Company into another blight. So far as I can learn you haven’t a decent
hair on your head. You’re never guilty of a fair and decent act if hard
work will show you a crooked way out of it. You’ve gouged citizens and
shippers with your railroad; you’ve robbed your laborers in the woods.
If you have any associates I expect you’ve cheated them.
“Now you’re trying to grab all Diversity and run it as you run your
business. You’re trying to steal a well-governed, honest town, and turn
it into the sort of thing you admire. You came to me and asked me to
help you. You want to make this county a little principality, with you
as the autocrat. It would be a sad day for Diversity. If the people of
this town have the sense the Almighty gave doodle-bugs they’ll see what
you’re up to. You want the courts. You want the machinery of the law, so
you can sack the place. Not a man here, not a man in your woods, would
be safe in life or property. You could wrong without fear of redress. So
far you’ve been able to get away with it, but I’m thinking the folks
here will wake up in time. If you’ve been a crook with men you’ve been a
miserable brute with women.”
Moran cursed again, but Jim quelled his struggle promptly.
“It’s astonishing,” he went on, “that some woman’s brother or father
hasn’t seen to it you got what you deserve. Some day one of them will.”
Jim was surprised into a moment’s silence by the sudden grayness that
shaded Moran’s face, by the expression of furtiveness, of fear, that
crept into his eyes.
“Oh, you’re a bit afraid of that, eh? You ought to be. Now for personal
matters. You think the Ashe Clothespin Company would be a fine property
to add to your holdings, so you mixed up with Welliver and his gang to
break me. You hired the Kowterskis to spike my logs and to tamper with
my machinery, and you saw what happened to one Kowterski. You’ve tried
to hold back cars so I couldn’t ship; now you’re planning to cut me off
on timber. Well, you aren’t going to do it.” He thought of Marie
Ducharme. “And there’s another matter, which we won’t discuss publicly.
If you think hard perhaps you’ll guess. That’s what made me despise you
first. I don’t suppose it matters to you how many decent folks despise
you, Moran, but it gives me some satisfaction to tell you there are a
lot of them. I guess that’s about all, except that I’ve got to have
logs—and I’m going to have them.” He loosened his hold. Moran moved his
head in his released collar, drew a long breath.
“Through, are you? Well, Ashe, see if you’re man enough to listen to me
without using the strong arm. You’ve made your talk. Maybe you think you
can talk that way to Michael Moran and get away with it. I’ve a few
things to settle with you, and this isn’t the least.” His partially
restrained passion burst its bonds in fury. “I’ll get you!” he shouted.
“I’ll bust you if it takes every dollar I own. Logs! See how many logs
you get. Where’ll you be by the time the courts give you damages—and by
that time the courts will belong to me. You’ve started in to crowd me,
too, you infernal fool. What good do you think that Le Bar option is
going to do you? Do you think I’ll buy from you? Don’t you suppose I can
stop a sale to anybody else? You just lose your thousand, that’s all.
And that last thing that you didn’t describe. I know what it is, Ashe,
and take a warning from me. Change your boarding-house and get out of my
way.” He turned, pushed his way violently through the little crowd, and
almost ran down the street.
As Jim followed more slowly he heard a man say: “Gosh! I wouldn’t be him
for consid’able. Wait till Moran gits at him.”
Jim rather longed for that moment. He went at once to Grierson’s desk.
“Where’s our log contract?” he asked. Grierson got it from the safe. Jim
jerked it open, read it quickly. His eyes lighted, his teeth clicked.
“Listen to this,” he said. “Does it mean what it says—legally? ‘If for
any reason the said Diversity Hardwood Company shall fail to deliver to
the said Ashe Clothespin Company logs according to the terms of this
contract in sufficient number to fill the requirements of the said Ashe
Clothespin Company, then the said Clothespin Company shall have the
right to go upon the lands of the Hardwood Company at the most
convenient place to them, and to cut timber, take logs from skidways,
make use of all tools and appliances belonging to the Hardwood Company
which shall be necessary to such logging operations, and this shall
include the use of camps, railroads, teams, tools, and any equipment
which is available. The cost of such operations shall be faithfully
noted and shall be deducted from the contract price of the timber taken
in such manner.’”
Grierson peered at Jim through his glasses. “It’s a usual clause in such
contracts,” he said, “and I guess it’s legal. But that’s as strong a
clause as I ever saw. I don’t know as I ever heard of one that was
enforced.”
“This one is going to be,” said Jim, shortly. “Go out to the log-yard,”
he said to Grierson’s assistant, “and send Tim Bennett here.”
“Tim,” said Jim, when the cant-dog man appeared, “there was a time when
lumberjacks would fight for their boss.”
“Who says I won’t?” Tim demanded, belligerently.
“Just wanted to find out,” said Jim, with a smile that Tim answered
broadly. “Know where there are any more like you?”
“Lumberjacks—real ones—is leavin’ this county as fast as they kin go.
But there’s some left. Shouldn’t be s’prised if I could dig up a couple
of dozen.”
“I want clean men—no boozers—on duty. I want men to depend on in a
pinch, who will keep their mouths shut. And I’d just as soon they
wouldn’t be friends of Michael Moran.”
“Mike Moran, is it?” Tim asked, his eyes gleaming. “Are you goin’ after
him? ’Tis a glad day for Tim Bennett. Friends of Mike’s—there hain’t no
sich animal, Mr. Ashe.”
“Find all you can. Don’t tell ’em what’s up—because you don’t know,”
Jim said, with a twinkle. “Don’t get ’em together in a gang, but have
’em meet to-morrow night in that bunch of cedar this side the red
bridge. If they happen to have peavey handles they might bring them
along.”
“To use for canes where the walkin’s bad,” grinned Tim. “I’ll have them
there.”
Jim was not satisfied. He wired a friend in the old home town:
Go down Patsy’s have him send twenty good boys. Ten on
afternoon, ten on morning train to-morrow. With peavey handles.
He knew this would be enough; that Patsy Garrity would send him the men
he needed.
Jim wanted advice, but hesitated to ask it. He knew Zaanan Frame was his
friend, but the old man was on the side of law and order. He might frown
on Jim’s intention, for, lawful as it was, it might, probably would,
turn out to be anything but orderly or peaceful. Still, he decided to
go.
Zaanan listened to him quietly, let him finish without comment.
“Blood’s young,” he said at the end, and wagged his head. “But this time
I calc’late there hain’t no other way. Moran hain’t got no use for law,
but he’ll go rushin’ off for a temp’rary injunction. That’ll tie you up
till he kin collect his army. If I was doin’ this I calc’late I’d git
there first. Eh? See young Bob Allen that’s runnin’ for prosecutor.
He’ll draw the bill for you. You’re startin’ in on a real job, Jim.
Better be reasonable sure you’re ready to finish it ’fore you start in.
G’-by, Jim.”
Jim went to Bob Allen. The young lawyer’s eyes shone as he listened.
“It’s coming to him,” he said. “Moran’s been needing somebody to handle
him without tongs. Mr. Ashe, if I get to be prosecutor, and you’ll back
me, I’ll chase him round in circles. I’ll do it whether you back me or
not. We want to handle this right. When do you plan to land your
invasion?”
“About midnight to-morrow.”
“Then Judge Scudder’s due to have his rest broken. I’ll be at his house
at midnight with the papers—and a deputy. He’ll issue the injunction,
all right. By that time you’ll be in full blossom. The deputy will slide
off to serve the restraining order. Gosh! I’d like to be along with
you.”
“I’d like to have you,” said Jim, heartily. “We’ve never had time to get
acquainted, but I guess we’re going to. Eh?”
“You bet you!” said Allen. “This place has been drifting along to the
graveyard. It’s a godsend to have somebody come along that’s sudden.
From what I hear you’re sudden enough to suit anybody—judging from your
little love-feast with Moran this afternoon.”
“I suppose the citizens are holding a funeral over me.”
“Yes. But they’re thinking, too. You mentioned a few things that gave
them something to think about. I don’t figure you did Peleg Goodwin’s
campaign a heap of good. It’s going to be a fight, though. Moran’s
spending money.”
“The next prosecutor ought to have legal evidence of it,” said Jim.
“By Jove!” Allen exclaimed, “that’s something I overlooked. If evidence
is to be had I’ll get it.”
Jim went back to the office to study a map of the section and to lay the
plans for his campaign.