SAM TURNER ACQUIRES A BUSINESS PARTNER
They followed the stream down to the road, at every step gaging with
the eye the height of the lake and judging the altered scenic view from
the level of the water. There would be room for dozens and dozens of
boats upon that surface without interference. Sam calculated that from
the upper spring there would be headway enough to run a small fountain
in the center, surrounded by a pond-lily bed which would be kept in
place by a stone curbing. In the hill to the right there was a deep
indenture. Back in there would go the bathing pavilions. They even
went up to look at it, and were delighted to find a natural, shallow
bowl. By cementing the floor of that bowl they could have a splendid
swimming-pool for timid bathers, where they could not go beyond their
depth; and it was entirely surrounded by a thick screen of shrubbery.
Oh, it was delightful; it was perfect! At the road they looked back up
over the valley again. It was no longer a valley. It was a lake.
They could see the water there. Sam drew from his pocket a pencil and
an envelope.
"The hotel will have to be long and tall," he observed, "for there will
not be much room on that ledge, from front to back. The building will
stretch out quite a ways. Three or four hundred feet long it will be,
and about five stories in height," and taking a letter from the
envelope, he sat down upon a fallen log and began rapidly to sketch.
He drew the hotel with wide-spreading Spanish roofs and balconies, and
a wide porch with rippling water in front of it, and rowboats and
people in them; and behind the hotel rose the broken sky-line of the
hills and the trees, with an indication of fleecy clouds above. It was
just a light sketch, a sort of shorthand picture, as it were, and yet
it seemed full of sunlight and of atmosphere.
"I hadn't any idea you could draw like that," she exclaimed in
admiration.
"I do a little of everything, I think, but nothing perfectly," he
admitted with some regret.
"It seems to me you do everything excellently," she objected quite
seriously; and she was, in fact, deeply impressed.
He walked over to the stream, a trifle confused, but not displeased, by
any means, by the earnestness of her compliment.
"I must have the water analyzed to see if it has any medicinal virtue,"
he said. "The spring out of which we drank has a sweetish-like taste,
but the water here--" and he caught up some of it in his hand and
tasted it, "seems to be slightly salt."
He had left her sitting on the log with the sketch in her lap. Now the
sketch fluttered to the ground and the letter turned over, right side
up. It was a letter which Sam had written to his brother Jack and had
not mailed because he had suddenly decided to come down to the scene of
action. As she stooped over to pick it up her eyes caught the
sentence: "I love her, Jack, more than I can tell you, more than I can
tell anybody, more than I can tell myself. It's the most important,
the most stupendous thing--" She hastily turned that letter over and
was very careful to have it lying upon her lap, back upward, exactly as
he had left it there, and when he came back she was very, very careful
indeed to hand it nonchalantly over to him, with the sketch uppermost.
"Of course," he said, looking around him comprehensively, "this is only
a day-dream, so far. It may be impossible to realize it."
"Why?" she asked, instantly concerned. "This project _must_ be carried
through! It is already as good as completed. It just must be done. I
never before had a hand, even in a remote way, in planning a big thing,
and I couldn't bear not to see this done. What is to prevent it?"
"I may not be able to get the land," returned Sam soberly. "It is
probably owned by half a dozen people, and one or more of them is
certain to want exorbitant prices for it."
"It certainly can't be very valuable," she protested. "It isn't fit
for anything, is it?"
"For nothing but the building of Lake Jo," he agreed. "Right now it is
worthless, but the minute anybody found out I wanted it it would become
extremely valuable. The only way to do would be to see everybody at
once and close the options before they could get to talking it over
among themselves."
"What time is it?" she demanded.
He looked at his watch.
"Ten-thirty," he said.
"Then let's go and see all these people right away," she urged, jumping
to her feet.
He smiled at her enthusiasm, but he was none loath to accept her
suggestion.
"All right," he agreed. "I wish they had telephones here in the woods.
We'll simply have to walk over to Meadow Brook and get an auto."
"Come on," she said energetically, and they started out on the road.
They had not gone far, however, when young Tilloughby, with Miss
Westlake, overtook them in a trap. He reined up, and Miss Westlake
greeted the pedestrians with frigid courtesy. Jack Turner had
accidentally dropped her a hint. Now that she had begun to appreciate
Mr. Tilloughby--Bob--at his true value, she wondered what she had ever
seen in Sam Turner--and she never had liked Josephine Stevens!
"Gug-gug-gug-glorious day, isn't it?" observed Tilloughby, his face
glowing with joy.
"Fine," agreed Sam with enthusiasm. "There never was a more glorious
day in all the world. You've just come along in time to save our
lives, Tilloughby. Which way are you bound?"
"Wuw-wuw-wuw-we had intended to go around Bald Hill."
"Well, postpone that for a few minutes, won't you, Tilloughby, like a
good fellow? Trot back to Meadow Brook and send an auto out here for
us. Get Henry, by all means, to drive it."
"Wuw-wuw-wuw-with pleasure," replied Tilloughby, wondering at this
strange whim, but restraining his curiosity like a thoroughbred.
"Huh-huh-huh-Henry shall be back here for you in a jiffy," and he drove
off in a cloud of dust.
Miss Stevens surveyed the retiring trap in satisfaction.
"Good," she exclaimed. "I already feel as though we were doing
something to save Lake Jo."
They walked back quite contentedly to the valley and surveyed it anew,
there resting now on both of them a sense of almost prideful
possession. They discovered a high point on which a rustic observatory
could be built; they planned paths and trails; they found where the
water-line came just under an overhanging rock which would make a cave
large enough for three or four boats to scurry under out of the rain.
They found delightful surprises all along the bank of the future lake,
and Miss Stevens declared that when the dam was built and the lake
began to fill, she never intended to leave it except for meals, until
it was up to the level at which they would permit the overflow to be
opened.
Henry, returning with the automobile, found them far up in the valley
discussing a floating band pavilion, but they came down quickly enough
when they saw him, and scrambled into the tonneau with the haste of
small children. Henry watched them take their places with smiling
affection. He had not only had good tips but pleasant words from Sam,
and Miss Stevens was her own incentive to good wishes and good will.
"Henry," said Sam, "we want to drive around to see the people who own
this land."
"Oh, shucks," said Henry, disappointed. "I can't drive you there. The
man that owns all this land lives in New York."
"In New York!" repeated Sam in dismay. "What would anybody in New York
want with this?"
"The fellow that bought it got it about ten years ago," Henry informed
them. "He was going to build a big country house, back up there in the
hills, I understand, and raise deer to shoot at, and things like that;
got an architect to make him plans for house and stables and all
costing hundreds of thousands of dollars; but before he could break
ground on it him and his wife had a spat and got a divorce. He tried
to sell the land back again to the people he bought it from, but they
wouldn't take it at any price. They were glad to be shut of it and
none of his rich friends wanted to buy it after that, because, they
said, there were so many of those cheap summer resorts around here."
"I see," said Sam musingly. "You don't happen to know the man's name,
do you?"
"Dickson, I think it was. Henry Dickson. I remember his first name
because it was the same as mine."
"Great!" exclaimed Sam, overjoyed. "Why, I know Henry Dickson like a
book. I've engineered several deals for him. He's a mighty good
friend of mine too. That simplifies matters. Drive us right over to
Hollis Creek."
"To Hollis Creek!" she objected. "I should think you'd drive to Meadow
Brook instead and dress for the trip. Aren't you going to catch that
afternoon train and go right up there?"
"By no means. This is Saturday, and by the time I'd get to New York he
couldn't be found anywhere; and anyhow, I wouldn't have time to deliver
you at Hollis Creek and make this next train."
"Don't mind about me," she urged. "I could go to the train with you
and Henry could take me back to Hollis Creek."
"That's fine of you," returned Sam gratefully; "but it isn't the
program at all. I happen to know that Dickson stays in his office
until one o'clock on Saturdays. I'll get him by long distance."
They were quite silent in calculation on the way to Hollis Creek, and
Miss Josephine found herself pushing forward to help make the machine
go faster. Breathlessly she followed Sam into the house, and he
obligingly left the door of the telephone booth ajar, so that she could
hear his conversation with Dickson.
"Hello, Dickson," said Sam, when he got his connection. "This is Sam
Turner. . . . Oh yes, fine. Never better in my life. . . . Up here
in Hamster County, taking a little vacation. Say, Dickson, I
understand you own a thousand acres down here. Do you want to sell it?
. . . How much?" As he received the answer to that question he turned
to Miss Josephine and winked, while an expression of profound joy,
albeit materialized into a grin, overspread his features. "I won't
dicker with you on that price," he said into the telephone. "But will
you take my note for it at six per cent.?"
He laughed aloud at the next reply.
"No, I don't want it to run that long. The interest in a hundred years
would amount to too much; but I'll make it five years. . . . All
right, Dickson, instruct your lawyer chap to make out the papers and
I'll be up Monday to close with you."
He hung up the receiver and turned to meet her glistening eyes fixed
upon him in ecstasy. "It's better than all right," he assured her. He
was more enthusiastic about this than he had ever been about any
business deal in his life, that is, more openly enthusiastic, for Miss
Josephine's enthusiasm was contagion itself. He took her arm with a
swing, and they hurried into the writing-room, which was deserted for
the time being on account of the mail having just come in. Sam placed
a chair for her and they sat down at the table.
"I want to figure a minute," said he. "Now that I have actual
possession of the property, in place of a mere option, I can go at the
thing differently. First of all, when I go up Monday I'll see my
engineer, and on Tuesday morning I'll bring him down here with me.
Then I shall secure permission from the county to alter that road and
we'll build the dam. That will cost very little in comparison to the
whole improvement. Then, and not till then, I'll get out my stock
prospectus, and I'll drive prospective investors down here to look at
Lake Jo. I'll be almost in position to dictate terms."
"Isn't that fine!" she exclaimed. "And then I suppose you can
secure--control," she ventured anxiously.
"Yes, I think I can if I want it," he assured her.
"I'm so glad," she said gravely. "I'm so very glad."
"Really, though, I have a big notion to see if I can't finance the
entire project myself. I'm quite sure I can get Dickson to give me a
clear deed to that land merely on my unsupported note. If I can do
that I can erect all the buildings on progressive mortgages. Roadways
and engineering work of course I'll have to pay for, and then I can
finance a subsidiary operating company to rent the plant from the
original company, and can retain stock in both of them. I'll figure
that out both ways."
It was all Greek to her, this talk, but she knitted her brows in an
earnest effort to understand, and crowded close to him to look over the
figures he was putting down. The touch of her arm against his own
threw out his calculations entirely. He could not add a row of figures
to save his life.
"I'll go over the financial end of this later on," he said, but he did
not put away the paper. He kept it there for them both to look at,
touching arms.
"All right," she agreed, "but you must let me see you do it. Of course
I can't understand, but I do want to feel as if I were helping when it
is done."
"I won't take a step in it without consulting you or having you along,"
he promised.
At that moment the bugle sounded the first call for luncheon.
"You'll stay for luncheon," she invited.
"Certainly," he assured her. "You couldn't drive me away."
"Very well, right after luncheon let's go out and look at the place
again. It will look different now that it is--" She caught herself.
She had almost said "now that it is ours." "Now that it is secured,"
she finished.
After luncheon they drove back to the site of Lake Jo, and spent a
delirious while planning the things which were to be done to make that
spot an earthly Paradise. Never was a couple so prolific of ideas as
they were that afternoon. With 'Ennery waiting down in the road they
tramped all over the hills again, standing first on one spot and then
another to survey the alluring prospect, and to plan wonderful new and
attractive features of which no previous summer resort builder had ever
even dared to dream.
During the afternoon not one word passed between them which might be
construed to be of an intimately personal nature, but as they drove to
Hollis Creek, tired but happy, Sam somehow or other felt that he had
made quite a bit of progress, and was correspondingly elated. Leaving
Miss Stevens on the porch he hurried home to dress for dinner, for it
was growing late, but immediately after dinner he drove over again.
When he arrived Miss Josephine was in the seldom used parlor with her
father.
"I haven't seen you since breakfast," Mr. Stevens had said, pinching
her cheek, "Hollis and Billy Westlake have been looking for you
everywhere."
"Oh, they," she returned with kindly contempt. "I'm glad I didn't see
them. They're nice boys enough, but father, I don't believe that
either one of them will ever become clever business men!"
"No?" he replied, highly amused. "Well, I don't think they will
either. Business is a shade too big a game for them. But where have
you been?"
"Out on business with S-s-s--with Mr. Turner," she replied demurely.
"I came in late for lunch, and you had already finished and gone. Then
we went right back out again. Father, we have found the dearest, the
most delightful, the most charming business opportunity you ever saw.
You must go out with us to-morrow and look at it. Sam's going to build
a lake and call it Lake Jo. You know where that little stream is
between here and Meadow Brook? Well, that's the place. We found out
this morning what a delightful spot it would make for a lake and a big
summer resort hotel, and at noon Sam bought the property, and we have
been planning it all afternoon. He's bought it outright and he's going
to capitalize it for a quarter of a million dollars. How much stock
are you going to take in it?"
"How much what?"
"How many shares of stock are you going to take in it? You must speak
up quickly, because it's going to be a favor to you for us to let you
in."
"Well, I don't know," said Mr. Stevens, resisting a sudden desire to
guffaw. "I'd have to look it over first before I decide to invest.
Sounds like a sort of wild-eyed scheme to me. Besides that, I already
have a good big block of stock in one of Sam Turner's enterprises."
"Oh, yes," she said, puckering her brows. "Are you going to vote your
pulp stock with his?"
Mr. Stevens' eyes twinkled, but his tone was conservative gravity
itself.
"Well, since it's a purely business deal it would not be a very wise
thing to do; and though Sam Turner is a mighty fine boy, I don't think
I shall."
"But you will!" she vigorously protested. "Why, father, you wouldn't
for a minute vote against your own son-in-law!"
"No, I wouldn't!" declared Mr. Stevens emphatically, and suddenly drew
her to him and kissed her; and she clung about his neck half laughing
and half crying.
Do you suppose there is anything in telepathy? It would seem so, for
it was at this moment that Sam stepped up on the porch. They in the
parlor heard his voice, and Mr. Stevens immediately slipped out the
back way in order not to be _de trop_ a second time. Now Sam could not
possibly have known what had been said in the parlor, and yet when he
found his way in there, he and Miss Josephine, without any palaver
about it, without exchanging a solitary word, or scarcely even a look,
just naturally fell into each other's arms. Neither one of them made
the first move. It just somehow happened, and they stood there and
held and held and held that embrace; and whatever foolishness they said
and did in the next hour is none of your business nor of mine; but
later in the evening, when they were sitting quietly in the darkest
corner of the porch, and Sam had his hand on the arm of her chair with
her elbows resting upon his fingers--it didn't matter, you know, where
he touched her, just so he did--she turned to him with thoughtful
earnestness in her voice.
"Sam," she said, and this time she used his first name quite
consciously and was glad it was dark so that he could not see her trace
of shyness, "I wish you would explain to me just what you mean by
control in a stock company."
Sam Turner moved his fingers from under her elbow and caught her hand,
which he firmly clasped before he began.
"Well, Jo, it's just this way," he said, and then, quite comfortably,
he explained to her all about it.
THE END
End of Project Gutenberg's The Early Bird, by George Randolph Chester