supreme drawback of this country. These people drift and blow on every
breeze, like the sands of the Sahara. With more and better help I could
work wonders here."
Unexpected as these salutations had been, O'Neil's greatest surprise
came a moment later as he passed the first of the company buildings.
There he heard his name pronounced in a voice which halted him, and in
an open doorway he beheld a huge, loose-hung man of tremendous girth,
with a war-bag in his hand and a wide black hat thrust back from a
shiny forehead.
"Why, Tom!" he exclaimed. "Tom Slater!"
Gordon groaned and went on with the women, saying: "Come up to the
house when you escape, Mr. O'Neil. I shall have dinner served."
Mr. Slater came forward slowly, dragging his clothes-bag with him. The
two shook hands.
"What in the world are you doing here, Tom?"
"Nothing!" said Slater. He had a melancholy cast of feature, utterly
out of keeping with his rotund form. In his eye was the somber glow of
a soul at war with the flesh.
"Nothing?"
"I had a good job, putting in a power plant for his nibs"--he indicated
the retreating Gordon with a disrespectful jerk of the thumb--"but I
quit."
"Not enough pay?"
"Best wages I ever got. He pays well."
"Poor grub?"
"Grub's fine."
"What made you quit?"
"I haven't exactly quit, but I'm going to. When I saw you coming up the
dock I said: 'There's the chief! Now he'll want me.' So I began to
pack." The speaker dangled his partly filled war-bag as evidence. In an
even sourer tone he murmured:
"Ain't that just me? I ain't had a day's luck since Lincoln was shot.
The minute I get a good job along you come and spoil it."
"I don't want you," laughed O'Neil.
But Slater was not convinced. He shook his head.
"Oh yes, you do. You've got something on or you wouldn't be here. I've
been drawing pay from you now for over five minutes."
O'Neil made a gesture of impatience.
"No! No! In the first place, I have nothing for you to do; in the
second place, I probably couldn't afford the wages Gordon is paying
you."
"That's the hell of it!" gloomily agreed "Happy Tom." "Where are your
grips? I'll begin by carrying them."
"I haven't any. I've been shipwrecked. Seriously, Tom, I have no place
for you."
The repetition of this statement made not the smallest impression upon
the hearer.
"You'll have one soon enough," he replied. Then with a touch of spirit,
"Do you think I'd work for this four-flusher if you were in the
country?"
"Hush!" O'Neil cast a glance over his shoulder. "By the way, how do you
happen to be here? I thought you were in Dawson."
"I finished that job. I was working back toward ma and the children. I
haven't seen them for two years."
"You think Gordon is a false alarm?"
"Happy Tom" spat with unerring accuracy at a crack, then said:
"He's talking railroads! Railroads! Why, I've got a boy back in the
state of Maine, fourteen years old--"
"Willie?"
"Yes. My son Willie could skin Curtis Gordon at railroad-building--and
Willie is the sickly one of the outfit. But I'll hand it to Gordon for
one thing; he's a money-getter and a money-spender. He knows where the
loose stone in the hearth is laid, and he knows just which lilac bush
the family savings are buried under. Those penurious Pilgrim Fathers in
my part of the country come up and drop their bankbooks through the
slot in his door every morning. He's the first easy money I ever had;
I'd get rich off of him, but"--Slater sighed--"of course you had to
come along and wrench me away from the till."
"Don't quit on my account," urged his former chief. "I'm up here on
coal matters. I can't take time to explain now, but I'll see you later."
"Suit yourself, only don't keep me loafing on full time. I'm an
expensive man. I'll be packed and waiting for you."
O'Neil went on his way, somewhat amused, yet undeniably pleased at
finding his boss packer here instead of far inland, for Slater's
presence might, after all, fit well enough into his plans.
"The Irish Prince" had gained something of a reputation for
extravagance, but he acknowledged himself completely outshone by the
luxury with which Curtis Gordon had surrounded himself at Hope. The
promoter had spoken of his modest living-quarters--in reality they
consisted of a handsome twenty-room house, furnished with the elegance
of a Newport cottage. The rugs were thick and richly colored; the
furniture was of cathedral oak and mahogany. In the library were deep
leather chairs and bookcases, filled mainly with the works of French
and German authors of decadent type. The man's taste in art was
revealed by certain pictures, undeniably clever, but a little too
daring. He was undoubtedly a sybarite, yet he evidently possessed rare
energy and executive force. It was an unusual combination.
The dinner was notable mainly for its lavish disregard of expense.
There were strawberries from Seattle, fresh cream and butter from
Gordon's imported cows, cheese prepared expressly for him in France,
and a champagne the date of which he took pains to make known.
On the whole he played the part of host agreeably enough and his
constant flow of talk was really entertaining. His anecdotes embraced
three continents; his wit, though Teutonic, was genial and
mirth-provoking. When Mrs. Gerard took time from her worshipful regard
of her daughter to enter the conversation, she spoke with easy charm
and spontaneity. As for Natalie, she was intoxicated with delight; she
chattered, she laughed, she interrupted with the joyful exuberance of
youth.
Under such circumstances the meal should have proved enjoyable, yet the
guest of honor had never been more ill at ease. Precisely what
accounted for the feeling he could not quite determine. Somewhere back
in his mind was a suspicion that things were not as they should be,
here in this house of books and pictures and incongruities. He told
himself that he should not be so narrow-minded as to resent Gloria
Gerard's presence here, particularly since she herself had told him
that her friendship for Gordon dated back many years. Nevertheless, the
impression remained to disturb him.
"You wonder, perhaps, why I have been so extravagant with my
living-quarters," said Gordon, as they walked into the library, "but it
is not alone for myself. You see I have people associated with me who
are accustomed to every comfort and luxury and I built this house for
them. Mrs. Gerard has been kind enough to grace the establishment with
her presence, and I expect others of my stock-holders to do likewise.
You see, I work in the light, Mr. O'Neil; I insist upon the broadest
publicity in all my operations, and to that end I strive to bring my
clients into contact with the undertaking itself. For instance, I am
bringing a party of my stockholders all the way from New York, at my
own expense, just to show them how their interests are being
administered. I have chartered a special train and a ship for them, and
of course they must be properly entertained while here."
"Quite a scheme," said O'Neil.
"I wanted to show them this marvelous country, God's wonderland of
opportunity. They will return impressed by the solidity and permanence
of their investment."
Certainly the man knew how to play his game. No more effective means of
advertising, no more profitable stock-jobbing scheme could be devised
than a free trip of that sort and a tour of Alaska under the watchful
guidance of Curtis Gordon. If any member of the party returned
unimpressed it would not be the fault of the promoter; if any one of
them did not voluntarily go out among his personal friends as a
missionary it would be because Gordon's magnetism had lost its power.
O'Neil felt a touch of unwilling admiration.
"I judge, from what you say, that the mine gives encouragement," he
ventured, eying his host curiously through a cloud of tobacco smoke.
"'Encouragement' is not the word. Before many years 'Hope Consolidated'
will be listed on the exchanges of the world along with 'Amalgamated'
and the other great producers. We have here, Mr. O'Neil, a tremendous
mountain of ore, located at tide water, on one of the world's finest
harbors. The climate is superb; we have coal near at hand for our own
smelter. The mine only requires systematic development under competent
hands."
"I was in Cortez when Lars Anderson made his first discovery here, and
I had an option on all this property. I believe the price was twelve
hundred dollars; at any rate, it was I who drove those tunnels you
found when you bought him out."
Gordon's eyes wavered briefly, then he laughed.
"My dear sir, you have my sincere sympathy. Your poison, my meat--as it
were, eh? You became discouraged too soon. Another hundred feet of work
and you would have been justified in paying twelve hundred thousand
dollars. This 'Eldorado' which the Copper Trust has bought has a
greater surface showing than 'Hope,' I grant; but--it lies two hundred
miles inland, and there is the all-important question of transportation
to be solved. The ore will have to be hauled, or smelted on the ground,
while we have the Kyak coal-fields at our door. The Heidlemanns are
building a railroad to it which will parallel mine in places, but the
very nature of their enterprise foredooms it to failure."
"Indeed? How so?"
"My route is the better. By a rigid economy of expenditure, by a
careful supervision of detail, I can effect a tremendous saving over
their initial cost. I hope to convince them of the fact, and thus
induce them to withdraw from the field or take over my road at--a
reasonable figure. Negotiations are under way."
At this talk of economy from Curtis Gordon O'Neil refrained from
smiling with difficulty. He felt certain that the man's entire
operations were as unsound as his statement that he could bring the
Trust to terms. Yet Gordon seemed thoroughly in earnest. Either he
expected to fool his present hearer, or else he had become hypnotized
by the spell of his own magnificent twaddle--O'Neil could not tell
which.
"Who laid out your right-of-way?" he asked with some interest.
"A very able young engineer, Dan Appleton. An excellent man,
but--unreliable in certain things. I had to let him go, this very
afternoon, in fact, for insubordination. But I discharged him more for
the sake of discipline than anything else. He'll be anxious to return
in a few days. Now tell me"--Gordon fixed his visitor with a bland
stare which failed to mask his gnawing curiosity--"what brings you to
King Phillip Sound? Are we to be rivals in the railroad field?"
"No. There are enough projects of that sort in the neighborhood for the
present."
"Five, all told, but only one destined to succeed."
"I'm bound for the Kyak coal-fields to perfect and amend my surveys
under the new ruling."
"Ah! I've heard about that ruling."
"Heard about it?" exclaimed O'Neil. "Good Lord! Haven't you complied
with it?"
"Not yet."
"You surely intend to do so?"
"Oh yes--I suppose so."
"If you don't you'll lose--"
"I'm not sure we can ever win."
"Nonsense!"
"I'm not sure that it's wise to put more good money into those coal
claims," said Gordon. "This ruling will doubtless be reversed as the
others have been. One never knows what the Land Office policy will be
two days at a time."
"You know your own business," O'Neil remarked after a pause, "but
unless you have inside information, or a bigger pull in Washington than
the rest of us, I'd advise you to get busy. I'll be on my way to Kyak
in the morning with a gang of men." Gordon's attitude puzzled him, for
he could not bring himself to believe that such indifference was
genuine.
"We have been treated unfairly by the Government."
"Granted!"
"We have been fooled, cheated, hounded as if we were a crowd of
undesirable aliens, and I'm heartily sick of the injustice. I prefer to
work along lines of least resistance. I feel tempted to let Uncle Sam
have my coal claims, since he has lied to me and gone back on his
promise, and devote myself to other enterprises which offer a certainty
of greater profits. But"--Gordon smiled deprecatingly--"I dare say I
shall hold on, as you are doing, until that fossilized bureau at
Washington imposes some new condition which will ruin us all."
Remembering Natalie's statement that her own and her mother's fortunes
were tied up in the mines, O'Neil felt inclined to go over Gordon's
head and tell the older woman plainly the danger of delay in complying
with the law, but he thought better of the impulse. Her confidence in
this man was supreme and it seemed incredible that Gordon should
jeopardize her holdings and his own. More likely his attitude was just
a part of his pose, designed to show the bigness of his views and to
shed a greater luster upon his railroad project.
It was difficult to escape from the hospitality of Hope, and O'Neil
succeeded in doing so only after an argument with Natalie and her
mother. They let him go at last only upon his promise to return on his
way back from the coal-fields, and they insisted upon accompanying him
down to the dock, whither Gordon had preceded them in order to have his
motor-boat in readiness.
As they neared the landing they overheard the latter in spirited debate
with "Happy Tom" Slater.
"But my dear fellow," he was saying, "I can't lose you and Appleton on
the same day."
"You can't? Why, you've done it!" the fat man retorted, gruffly.
"I refuse to be left in the lurch this way. You must give more notice."
Slater shrugged, and without a word tossed his bulging war bag into the
motor-boat which lay moored beneath him. His employer's face was purple
with rage as he turned to Murray and the ladies, but he calmed himself
sufficiently to say:
"This man is in charge of important work for me, yet he tells me you
have hired him away."
"Tom!" exclaimed O'Neil.
"I never said that," protested Slater. "I only told you I was working
for Murray."
"Well?"
"I hired myself. He didn't have anything to say about it. I do all the
hiring, firing, and boosting in my department."
"I appeal to you, O'Neil. I'm short-handed," Gordon cried.
"I tell you he don't have a word to say about it," Slater declared with
heat.
Natalie gave a little tinkling laugh. She recognized in this man the
melancholy hero of more than one tale "The Irish Prince" had told her.
Murray did his best, but knowing "Happy Tom's" calm obstinacy of old,
he had no real hope of persuading him.
"You see how it is," he said, finally. "He's been with me for years and
he refuses to work for any one else while I'm around. If I don't take
him with me he'll follow."
Mr. Slater nodded vigorously, then imparted these tidings:
"It's getting late, and my feet hurt." He bowed to the women, then
lowered himself ponderously yet carefully over the edge of the dock and
into the leather cushions of the launch. Once safely aboard, he took a
package of wintergreen chewing-gum from his pocket and began to chew,
staring out across the sound with that placid, speculative enjoyment
which reposes in the eyes of a cow at sunset.
Curtis Gordon's face was red and angry as he shook hands stiffly with
his guest and voiced the formal hope that they would meet again.
"I'm glad to be gone," Slater observed as the speed-boat rushed across
the bay. "I'm a family man, and--I've got principles. Gordon's got
neither."
"It was outrageous for you to walk out so suddenly. It embarrassed me."
"Oh, he'd let me go without notice if he felt like it. He fired Dan
Appleton this afternoon just for telling the truth about the mine.
That's what I'd have got if I'd stayed on much longer. I was filling up
with words and my skin was getting tight. I'd have busted, sure, inside
of a week."
"Isn't the mine any good?"
"It ain't a mine at all. It's nothing but an excavation filled with
damn fools and owned by idiots; still, I s'pose it serves Gordon's
purpose." After a pause he continued: "They tell me that snakes eat
their own young! Gordon ought to call that mine the Anaconda, for it'll
swallow its own dividends and all the money those Eastern people can
raise."
"I'm sorry for Mrs. Gerard."
Slater emitted a sound like the moist exhalation of a porpoise as it
rises to the surface.
"What do you mean by that snort?" asked Murray.
"It's funny how much some people are like animals. Now the ostrich
thinks that when his head is hid his whole running-gear is out of
sight. Gordon's an ostrich. As for you--you remind me of a mud turtle.
A turtle don't show nothing but his head, and when it's necessary he
can yank that under cover. Gordon don't seem to realize that he sticks
up above the underbrush--either that or else he don't care who sees
him. He and that woman--"
"Never mind her," exclaimed O'Neil, quickly. "I'm sure you're mistaken."
Mr. Slater grunted once more, then chewed his gum silently, staring
mournfully into the twilight. After a moment he inquired:
"Why don't you show these people how to build a railroad, Murray?"
"No, thank you! I know the country back of here. It's not feasible."
"The Copper Trust is doing it."
"All the more reason why I shouldn't. There are five projects under way
now, and there won't be more than enough traffic for one."
Slater nodded. "Every man who has two dollars, a clean shirt, and a
friend at Washington has got a railroad scheme up his sleeve."
"It will cost thirty million dollars to build across those three
divides and into the copper country. When the road is done it will be
one of heavy grades, and--"
"No wonder you didn't get the contract from the Heidlemanns--if your
estimate was thirty million."
"I didn't put in a figure."
Tom looked surprised. "Why didn't you? You know them."
"I was like the little boy who didn't go to the party--I wasn't asked."
The speaker's expression showed that his pride had been hurt and
discouraged further questioning. "We'll hire our men and our boats
to-night," he announced. "I've arranged for that freighter to drop us
off at Omar on her way out. We'll have to row from there to Kyak. I
expected to land my horses at the coast and pack in from Kyak Bay, but
that shipwreck changed my plans. Poor brutes! After my experience I'll
never swim horses in this water again."
An eleven-o'clock twilight enveloped Cortez when the two men landed,
but the town was awake. The recent railway and mining activity in the
neighborhood had brought a considerable influx of people to King
Phillip Sound, and the strains of music from dance-hall doors, the
click of checks and roulette balls from the saloons, gave evidence of
an unusual prosperity.
O'Neil had no difficulty in securing men. Once he was recognized, the
scenes at Hope were re-enacted, and there was a general scramble to
enlist upon his pay-roll. Within an hour, therefore, his arrangements
were made, and he and Tom repaired to Callahan's Hotel for a few hours'
sleep.
A stud game was going on in the barroom when they entered, and O'Neil
paused to watch it while Slater spoke to one of the players, a
clean-cut, blond youth of whimsical countenance. When the two friends
finally faced the bar for their "nightcap" Tom explained:
"That's Appleton, the fellow Gordon fired to-day. I told him I'd left
the old man flat."
"Is he a friend of yours?"
"Sure. Nice boy--good engineer, too."
"Umph! That game is crooked."
"No?" "Happy Tom" displayed a flash of interest.
"Yes, Cortez is fast becoming a metropolis, I see. The man in the derby
hat is performing a little feat that once cost me four thousand dollars
to learn."
"I'd better split Dan away," said Tom, hastily.
"Wait! Education is a good thing, even if it is expensive at times. I
fancy your friend is bright enough to take care of himself. Let's wait
a bit."
"Ain't that just my blamed luck?" lamented Slater. "Now if they were
playing faro I could make a killing. I'd 'copper' Appleton's bets and
'open' the ones he coppered!"
O'Neil smiled, for "Happy Tom's" caution in money matters was
notorious. "You know you don't believe in gambling," he said.
"It's not a belief, it's a disease," declared the fat man. "I was born
to be a gambler, but the business is too uncertain. Now that I'm
getting so old and feeble I can't work any more, I'd take it up, only I
broke three fingers and when I try to deal I drop the cards. What are
we going to do?"
"Just wait," said O'Neil.
VI
THE DREAMER
Unobserved the two friends watched the poker game, which for a time
proceeded quietly. But suddenly they saw Appleton lean over the table
and address the man with the derby hat; then, thrusting back his chair,
he rose, declaring, in a louder tone:
"I tell you I saw it. I thought I was mistaken at first." His face was
white, and he disregarded the efforts of his right-hand neighbor to
quiet him.
"Don't squeal," smiled the dealer. "I'll leave it to the boys if I did
anything wrong."
"You pulled that king from the bottom. It may not be wrong, but it's
damned peculiar."
"Forget it!" one of the others exclaimed. "Denny wouldn't double-cross
you."
"Hardly!" agreed Mr. Denny, evenly. "You're 'in' a hundred and eighty
dollars, but if you're sore you can have it back."
Appleton flung his cards into the middle of the table and turned away
disgustedly. "It's a hard thing to prove, and I'm not absolutely sure I
saw straight, or--I'd take it back, fast enough."
Denny shrugged and gathered in the discarded hand. "You've been
drinking too much, that's all. Your eyesight is scattered."
Appleton's face flushed as he beheld the gaze of the company upon him
and heard the laughter which greeted this remark. He turned to leave
when O'Neil, who had continued to watch the proceedings with interest,
crossed to the group and touched Denny on the shoulder, saying, quietly:
"Give him his money."
"Eh?" The smile faded from the fellow's face; he looked up with
startled inquiry. "What?"
"Give him his money."
In the momentary hush which followed, "Happy Tom" Slater, who had
frequently seen his employer in action and understood storm signals,
sighed deeply and reached for the nearest chair. With a wrench of his
powerful hands he loosened a leg. Although Mr. Slater abhorred trouble,
he was accustomed to meet it philosophically. A lifetime spent in
construction camps had taught him that, of all weapons, the one best
suited to his use was a pick-handle; second to that he had come to
value the hardwood leg of a chair. But in the present case his
precaution proved needless, for the dispute was over before he had
fairly prepared himself.
Without waiting for O'Neil to put his accusation into words Denny had
risen swiftly, and in doing so he had either purposely or by accident
made a movement which produced a prompt and instinctive reaction.
Murray's fist met him as he rose, met him so squarely and with such
force that he lost all interest in what followed. The other
card-players silently gathered Mr. Denny in their arms and stretched
him upon a disused roulette table; the bartender appeared with a wet
towel and began to bathe his temples.
Appleton, dazed by the suddenness of it all, found a stack of gold
pieces in his hand and heard O'Neil saying in an every-day tone:
"Come to my room, please. I'd like to talk to you." Something
commanding in the speaker's face made the engineer follow against his
will. He longed to loiter here until Denny had regained his senses--but
O'Neil had him by the arm and a moment later he was being led down the
hall away from the lobby and the barroom. As Slater, who had followed,
closed the door behind them, Dan burst forth:
"By Jove! Why didn't you tell me? I knew he was crooked--but I couldn't
believe--"
"Sit down!" said O'Neil. "He won't pull himself together for a while,
and I want to get to bed. Are you looking for a job?"
The engineer's eyes opened wide.
"Yes."
"Do you know the Kyak country?"
"Pretty well."
"I need a surveyor. Your wages will be the same that Gordon paid and
they begin now, if it's agreeable."
"It certainly is!"
"Good! We'll leave at six o'clock, sharp. Bring your bedding and
instruments."
"Thanks! I--This is a bit of a surprise. Who are you?"
"I'm O'Neil."
"Oh!" Mr. Appleton's expression changed quickly. "You're Murray--" He
stammered an instant. "It was very good of you to take my part, after
I'd been fool enough to--"
"Well--I didn't want to see you make a total idiot of yourself."
The young man flushed slightly, then in a quieter voice, he asked:
"How did you know I was out of work?"
"Mr. Gordon told me. He recommended you highly."
"He did?"